 
The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings,

Justin Vaquera

Copyright 2012 by Justin Vaquera

Published at Smashwords

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For my family and friends; thanks for putting up with me.

Pronunciation Guide:

Characters:

Aegis: A-giss

Asylann: Uh-seal-in

Balin: B-al-inn

Blaide: Blay-d

Blaine: Blay-n

Bryn: Br-inn

Cancer: Can-sir

Chester: Chess-turr

Cleave Rend: Clee-v R-in-d

Cuke Barleybeard: K-you-k Bar-lee-beer-d

Dirringyr: Deer-in-jurr

Dradewen: Draid-win

Drell: J-rail

Dren: Jr-in

Dunawar: Done-uh-wahr

Durgen: Der-jin

Ebony: Eh-buh-knee

Ellen: El-in

Garren: G-air-in

Garth: Garr-th

Graham: G-ram

Grim: Gr-imm

Griphon: Griff-in

Heller: Hell-er

Heller Grindstone: Hell-er Gr-eye-nd-stow-n

Horsey: H-or-see

Ivory: Eye-vor-ee

Jeanette: Jin-et

Jerr: J-air

Jiff: J-if

Krew: Kr-oo

Mateo: Muh-tay-oh

Merlon: M-air-lawn

Natalia: Nuh-tally-uh

Neirk Kingfeller: Near-k Key-ng-fell-ur

Norsd: N-or-st

Outsider: Out-sigh-derr

Peter: Pee-tur

Reginald Quadrillionus: Rej-i-nuld Kwuh-drill-e-in-us

Reiin: Rain

Robaine: Row-bane

Rodge: Raw-j

Saleane: Suh-lean

Scorn: Sk-or-n

Shogul: Show-gull

Siln: Sill-n

Tagvik: Tag-vick

Tenn: T-in

Thom/Thomulus: Tawm/Tawm-yuh-luss

Thomein: Tawm-ine

Toric: Tore-ick

Ulgvhen: Olg-v-inn

Ulvet: Ol-vet

Uvrikh: Oov-rick

Valhus: V-al-huss

Welter: Well-ter

Locations:

Briggand Sails: Brig-end S-ails

Cain Sander: K-ane San-dur

Delvin: D-ail-vin

Drezzenbaijan: J-rez-in-by-jon

Dweanther: D-we-an-thur

Gilded Lily: Gill-did Lil-lee

Journ: J-or-n

Pilgrimage Pass: Pill-grim-i-j Pass

Ridge Country: R-ij Cun-tree

Rusk: Ruh-sk

Shadowverse: Sh-a-dow-vur-s

Tempest Bowl: Tim-p-is-t Bow-l

Verillex: V-air-ill-ex

Vexus: V-ex-us

Noteworthy Items:

Axion: (a long metal staff with an axe head on each end) Ax-e-in

Cince: (a golden and silver currency) S-in-ts

Darkbane: (enchanted dagger) D-arc B-ain

Dirge: (a Shadowverse troll) Dur-j

Gurl: (carnivorous, amphibious birds) G-ear-l

Mordose: (a dog-like, quadrupedal reptile) More-doe-s

Skyrn: (a reptilian, bipedal creature) S-kur-n

Prologue:

Merlon walked down the street quickly, wishing to escape the bitter cold that had settled in the small trading town of Journ. He stepped inside the small pub he had gone to for decades and shook the chill from his bones near the fire. The keeper recognized his most loyal customer and brought him over a pint of warm ale.

"On the house," he said as he set the mug on the polished oak table with a clink. "This winter's goin' to be a rough 'un."

Merlon threw him a grateful glance as he gulped down the invigorating brew. Instantly he could feel the warmth returning to his limbs. The pint was empty before he set it down with a satisfied sigh. "Thank ye' for the pint, Garth. Twas exactly what I be needin'."

Garth shrugged nonchalantly to accept the praise in his usual stoic way. The old dwarf had no need for compliments to know his secret recipe was great; he'd had three human lifetimes to perfect it. He carried the depleted glass past his counter to the keg while Merlon wiped the foam from his thick, salt and pepper beard.

It was then that the door opened and unleashed the outside's torrent of winter. The fireplace flared to life as new air filled the room, throwing a homey glow across the tavern and its inhabitants. Merlon looked up from his hands to see the newcomer but saw no one enter even as the door closed. He turned in his chair and scanned the crowd for a face he didn't recognize but found none in the dimly lit room as the fire settled back to its leisurely smolder.

Something in the back of Merlon's mind didn't sit right with him, but Garth returned before he could give it too much thought.

"A fresh new pint for ye' just beggin' to be drank." Merlon nodded his thanks and made his mind to savor this glass but found it drained in a single tilting again.

"Either ye' need to be gettin' some bigger mugs, or I need to be bringin' me own barrel." Merlon laughed and slapped his belly which shook happily. "So how's business been, me ol' friend? The Rusty Axe looks a bit emptier than usual."

Garth nodded slowly and took a sip of his own ale. "'Fraid so. Journ just isn't the necessary trade stop it used to be. Most travelers skip us completely in favor of taking the trails to Rusk instead of the hills here." He paused to take another gulp and sucked in a breath between his whiskers. "Can't say I blame 'em. The area's gettin' dangerous as of late. Have you heard of the recent string of disappearances?"

Merlon shook his head and leaned forward, elbows on the table, intrigued. He noted the cautious look in Garth's eyes as he looked around the room before continuing.

"All 'round Journ, people have been vanishing. First it was the occasional visitor; no one paid it much heed. Most folks just pass through anyways. Then a few tendays ago, Lorn, the owner of the inn across the street was gone. I came by his place to give 'em a batch of my new brew when I see's his door is open wide in the middle of the night. So—"He cut off as someone walked past the table and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Excccccecelent ales as is always, er, uh, Garth. See ya' tomorra'." The man slurred and smiled warmly with blank eyes.

"Sober I hope, eh, Rodge?" He asked the drunken man. Rodge waved and left, letting in the cold as he stumbled out of the room laughing. Garth shook his head and took another swig.

"As I was saying, so I go inside after his door's open, and I find the place empty. Just completely wiped down and not a single speck o' dust to show someone had ever been 'ere."

Merlon realized his mouth was slightly ajar and blinked several times. "That musta' been quite the scare."

"Ye' bet the Mountain Father's beard it was! I start feelin' somethin' creepin' up on me, so I turns around real quicklike and find there's nothin' there 'cept a pair of footprints leadin' outta' town. If I'd had a few pints in me I'd of gone after 'em, but lookin' back on it I think it's better I didn't."

They sat in silence for a moment, letting their minds wander and fill in their own line of what transpired. Garth broke the silence a few minutes later as he realized the mood of the entire room had changed.

"I think we have ourselves a few eavesdroppers." He muttered to Merlon under his breath. "I think it best we be changin' the subject."

The younger dwarf nodded and looked about the room. "I should be gettin' back anyway. Don't want the missus to get to worryin'."

Garth raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Ye' aint married, ye ol' fool. Ye' sure yer tolerance for the firedrink aint lessened with ol' age?" Merlon chuckled in response and pushed his chair back. Standing, he shook Garth's rough hand and pushed his chair in.

"I was talkin' 'bout me mule, Jessi." He laughed as he walked his friend to the bar and laid down a shilling at Garth's protest. "I know, I know, but times are tough all 'round. Ye' need the money and I need the drink. We'll keep each other in business." He waved and with a deep breath of the smoky air, walked out into the frigid world of Journ's winter.

With the howling winds roaring around him in gusts of snow, he kept his head low, trusting his beard to keep his face warm but not wanting his eyes to get burned. As such, he soon noticed that his coin purse was missing. He cursed as he realized he had left it on Garth's counter.

"Thank the heavens he's my oldest friend or I'd be poor as a blind orc trying to mine silver." He turned back, no more than half a block from the pub, and grimaced as he walked against the wind instead of with it. Frost clung to his beard until it looked white with age and his boots were heavy with compacted snow. He walked beneath the balcony, shook the snow from his tunic and kicked the porch's corner to break free of the ice that clung to his feet. Satisfied, he reached out for the doorknob and found the door already ajar. Merlon stepped inside and felt his stomach drop as his eyes roamed the room.

The room he had visited for decades.

The room he had just left not fifteen minutes earlier.

The room now completely devoid of anything not part of the structure.

The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings
Chapter One: "Allow me to introduce myself"

Rusk's marketplace was booming with business that morning. The weather was fair and the chill at bay, allowing the people of the quickly expanding trading town a reprieve in which to gather supplies for the fast approaching winter months. So far north as they were, the cold season lasted twice as long as the warm and twice as harsh. It was not uncommon for people to die during the blizzards or move away just before and after they hit. However, those used to it, such as the Northern Dwarves and Bear Tribe of Warriors, made the most of the time to prepare and survive the grueling months to come.

In fact, they relished it. To them, it was a matter of pride and natural selection. Those who remained and had been there the longest proved themselves strong and worthy of business, and as such, the Nordic men and dwarves with the most ancient lines and homes held the power within the town.

Divided into two main factions, Rusk was ran by the dwarf-backed Froststone Clan; with control of the mines and smithing, meanwhile the Warrior-fueled Heavywinter Clan maintained a steady lumberjacking operation so that the town always had enough wood to keep their homes and business running, without depleting their forests, and the general goods stores ran from their human cousins to the west who brought them supplies in bulk for a discounted price. Under their combined control Rusk ran smoothly and efficiently with only the occasional hiccup when one group considered a new business setup by the other to overstep their boundaries. Luckily, the arguments never lead to anything more severe, with the last brawl having been over a generation ago and ending in a draw.

Those not within the factions were able to live comfortably under their influence without having to commit to anything more than non-member prices. However, this did lead to the occasional raising of prices meant to force them into joining. Yet there were those who resisted and found other ways of getting by..

"Stop, thief!" the burly shop owner roared over the bustle of the crowd. He couldn't leave his stall alone, especially on such a busy day, and cursed as he watched the hobbit disappear into the crowd, easily evading the guard. "That damn, man-child had better hope he never crosses paths with me again! That was my most prized possession." he told the guard who was investigating the report.

"And what exactly was it he took?"

The shop owner stared into his eyes with a look of hate. "The dagger they used to kill the last dark elf in this town a hundred years ago."

***

The hobbit raced past the sea of legs, ducking under crates being carried and weapons slung on belts, as he ditched the guards pursuing him. His large feet padded noiselessly on the cobblestone among the roar of the crowd, his breathing still steady and grip firm on his latest treasure. He couldn't believe his luck.

"Who would've thought that, Thomulus, a meager pickpocket, would find such a wonder?" He laughed aloud as he turned suddenly into an alley and ducked inside a small apothecary on a street parallel to the one he had just come from, the alley connecting the two like the middle of an H. Thomulus stood against the door and watched from the window for any guards to pass by.

"Can I help you?" A woman asked from behind the counter. Thomulus jumped in surprise and darted out the door before she could get a good look at him, bumping into someone he didn't even glance at before taking off again. This time he heard footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder.

A single guard was fast approaching with his sword drawn, the steel glinting in the early morning light. The hobbit knew he couldn't outrun him for long, and his nimble mind began to search for a way out. Up ahead was another street that curved around in a bend that lead back to the first street that ended with the marketplace he had robbed.

He couldn't go back that way.

"Just give it up, thief! You're found out!" the guard cried from behind, closer now. Thomulus began to panic. He couldn't go to prison again. Too many people would be able to find him there. Those he had wronged in the past that could add on charges or just pay his bail to kill him themselves. He shuddered at the thought. He spun around the curve and began to swerve in and out of groups of people, gaining ground away from the full sized man giving chase.

At last he broke line of sight and dove headfirst into a hay bale, praying the guard wouldn't notice his left foot poking out. Luck was on the halfling's side yet again however and he remained unnoticed for several minutes until he deemed the area safe. He cautiously slipped out and brushed away the strands of hay and dust from his clothes.

"Ah, Thom, you old genius. You've done it again!" he applauded himself as he strode through town with a bounce in his step; a bounce that was quickly cut short as he saw the detail of guards on post at every alleyway entrance and conjoining streets. The thief's mind quickly sought an alternate route to his fence. He turned on his heel and hurried through the crowds until the part of town still under construction surrounded him. He clambered up the wooden boards that made up the frame of a soon-to-be house until he was even with the shop beside it, and leaped onto it. His thick feet absorbed the impact and caught great traction on the thatched rooftops as he made his way from building to building.

His fence's hideout was in sight; a small hut constructed between three chimneys that were less than a man's height apart in the shape of a triangle, often hidden by smoke, when a voice called out his name from behind.

He turned slowly and faced a hooded figure who wore such a cloak as to conceal his face and whether or not he was armed. But by the man's steady gait as he leaped from house to house with ease and without a sound convinced Thomulus that he was no man to be trifled with regardless of weapon.

"I'm here for you, Thomulus of Cain Sander, son of Thomein, on charges of larceny, burglary, grand theft, minor assault, and trespassing. Will you come quietly?" the confident voice announced smoothly. He was well versed and obviously had done this before. Thomulus tried to get a look at his face but only saw darkness with the sun at his back. He eyed the man's clothing instead, noting the studded leather armor and leggings tanned a dark gray like smoke. Even the stranger's cloak was like night and seemed to absorb the light around him, concealing his form in shadow.

"How did you find me?" the hobbit asked as he tried to gain the advantage of knowing his enemy.

"You ran into me outside the apothecary shop in your haste." the man said with a touch of humor. "I didn't even get an apology."

Thomulus noted the man was constantly edging closer, step by step, now on the same rooftop. Thom drew his small blade and waved it about threateningly. "Stay back, stranger, unless you'd like a new mouth where your throat is!" The concealed man continued his approach without hesitation.

"Put that away before you get hurt." the voice said, a hard edge grown into it.

This is a cold man, the thief realized. No more than twenty feet separated them now, and Thomulus was running out of ideas. This man was something new. He had dealt with guards, angry shop keeps, and irate husbands, but this foe was something new.

"Who are you stranger? And why are you after me?"

The man stopped and with a flourish, bowed low. "Allow me to introduce myself." He stood straight again. "The name is Outsider, and I am here to bring you in to the law of Cain Sander to receive my reward for your imprisonment."

"You're a bounty hunter!"

The man nodded once. "Indeed, and I aim to claim that bounty one way or the other. You should keep in mind; the price on your head is the same with or without the aforementioned head."

Cornered, and out of options, the small thief turned and took a single step when he was thrown off his feet and down below. His scream only lasted a second before he hit.
Chapter Two: Going South

Hay was still stuck in Thomulus' hair when he was strapped onto the back of Outsider's horse. His hands were tied behind his back and his middle lashed onto the saddle just like the bags, in case he should fall.

"Comfortable back there, Thom?" Outsider asked as he walked the gelding to the gate of the stables.

Thomulus rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, it's just fantastic back here! I get a free ride on a horse, the offer of free shelter and food for a number of years, oh, and let's not forget the joy of being tossed off a roof into a bale of hay." He spat off the side of the horse. "Best day of my life."

Outsider smiled beneath his hood and mounted. "Well, I'm glad. Ol' Jiff here has been aching for some company." he said scratching the gray horse between the ears. Jiff knickered in pleasure and began his trot as his rider's heels pressed in his sides lightly. "You two play nice now."

They turned for the main gate to leave the bustling town of Rusk.

"Hey, wait a minute! Aren't you going to return that dagger I stole?"

Outsider turned around in his saddle and stared from the darkness of his cloak into his prisoner's eyes. "Now why would I want to go and do something like that?"

"Because it's stolen! And you're supposed to return it! That's the right thing to do, eh?" In actuality, Thom just wanted to bide time to escape before getting too close to those who knew of him and his actions. Not to mention the thought of his captor getting such a fine blade from him made bile rise in his throat.

"See, now, right there is your problem. I'm no guard nor have I sworn any oaths. I take what I can by my own means. I haven't stolen anything. You have. I merely confiscated it from a criminal and in the rush of apprehending you, out of the goodness of my heart mind you, forgot to return it to the shop owner, which I would've had to neglect protecting the helpless and the innocent just to identify. So by not returning this fine blade, I did a service to the good people of Rusk and made the town a more wholesome and safe place for all to live and raise their children without fear." He looked up to the town behind them and did a small dip of his head. "No thanks are necessary. You are welcome." He turned back in the saddle without a word and suppressed a chuckle at the incredulous look Thom was unable to repress from his face.

After that, the ride was a long quiet one in which Outsider took shifts from riding to walking in two hour intervals as to avoid tiring Jiff. With this plan, they were able to ride well into the night until the east began to turn purple with the morning sun just beyond the horizon. Outsider slid from the saddle, loosened the girth strap on Jiff and rubbed him down with a reward of an apple before letting a drowsy Thom down.

"What time is it?" he croaked. Outsider pulled his head back and poured a mouthful of water down his throat. Thom nodded his thanks and wiped his chin on his shoulder as his hands were still bound.

"Almost seven. The sun has nearly risen."

Thom blinked a few times and looked back the way they had come. Nothing but mountains and the hilly plains of the wild north stared back at him. They had come farther than he had anticipated in such a short amount of time.

I've got to get away from him. A chill wind blew past and he shivered. And away from here.

"How'd you manage to ride through the night? Most would never risk breaking a horse's ankle or coming upon something." he asked as he stretched out his stubby legs.

Outsider shrugged as he prepared their camp by laying out bedrolls and placing a tarp of rough cloth between two spindly trees that formed the back wall of their little site. A few small shrubs acted as a screen to the opposite side so that their camp was hidden from view in a valley that kept them low.

"And why do you wear your hood at all times? Ya' ugly under there or just bald and shy?" the hobbit pressed in an attempt to goad him into action: the perfect opportunity for him to slip the knife from his boot.

"Do you want to keep asking questions? Or do you want to eat? Cause either way I'm not going to fall for your pathetic excuses at provoking me." He struck a small rock against a shard of steel, casting sparks into a small pile of tinder he pulled from one of his bags, and blew until the embers caught the kindling. "Besides, that knife in your boot is already gone." Then he held up the metal piece he started the fire with in his hand.

"Damn you, hunter! Who are you to interfere in the affairs of others that do not concern you? You think yourself a protector of man who shields the weak and helpless from the likes of me? Do not be a fool; no one is innocent." Thom spat and rose to his feet.

He kicked sodden soil at his captor and bellowed as he was grabbed from behind before the dirt even hit the ground. "Now why would you want to get me dirty? If you like being filthy so much that you want to share it," He lifted the little man off his feet. "Then don't let me hinder you." And with that, he tossed Thom on his face in the dirt, hands still bound behind his back.

He leaned down close, his mouth near the hobbit's ear, and whispered as quietly as the wind. "If I were you, I would watch my tongue. For I am not you. And I am not the protector of man. I am the taker."

The little thief made no move to get up and instead slept exactly where he fell. His only movement was when Outsider bound his feet and attached the rope to the saddle with threat of being dragged to death at a single command. Afterwards, the bounty hunter enjoyed a small meal of venison rations and cheese before laying down on his bedroll against a tree with his cloak about him.

The sun rose soon afterward and continued its climb as they rested. The shadows slowly grew longer and longer until they elongated into larger than life phantoms of themselves. Together, the pair missed the stunning view of the sun's scintillating glow across the vast waves of rolling hills in the frozen tundra. Even the Mountain Fang emanated a magnificent aura of power that soaked those who watched its splendor with a fulfilling sense of energy.

Invigorated by this, the roaming band of orcs decided to press on into the day rather than retire at morning as was their custom. They followed their leader, an orc Elder who stood over a head taller than the largest in his band, which looked more dirge than anything, and carried a battleaxe renowned for its impregnable edge that was impossible to dull. Whoever wielded the legendary weapon assumed its persona and shared its feared name of Cleave Rend.

As such, Cleave Rend was the first to notice the scent in the air. He held up a gray fist the size of a hobbit's head and the troop came to a stop. His gruff voice soon graveled out a few words. "Tagvik, scout out the area ahead. I smell woodsmoke."

As soon as his name was mentioned, a small goblin wearing the lightest of armor with green skin stepped forward and took off full sprint. They watched him go for several minutes before he descended down the side of a valley and disappeared from view. Cleave Rend turned to his second in command, a large orc who stood shorter than most but as broad as his leader. His muscles were tensed in anticipation of what was to come. He too thought he could smell smoke, but without the heightened senses of such a weapon as his commander, he couldn't be sure.

"Ulgvhen, I expect we shall soon be spilling blood." Cleave Rend said excitedly, his beady black eyes glinting like flint. His jaw clenched so tight his yellow fangs that stood up above his lips actually framed the sides of his nose. "I thirst for it."

Ulgvhen was uncertain as to whether he was referring to the axe or not. He had found over the last few years since his brother had 'inherited' the axe by slitting their father's throat in his sleep, the weapon had a personality of its own that often melded with its wielder's. This led to sudden and extreme mood swings that left him oblivious to most of his brother's decisions until they were made.

I remember when your name was Uvrikh, he thought as he listened to Cleave Rend paint a picture of slaughter and the shades of blood different races spilled.

"Dwarf blood is darker than human, with hobbits' a bright scarlet. The elves have the most options, from the wood elves' rich rose color to the dark elves' almost purple red. Ooh, I can't wait. Tagvik had best hurry if he wishes to see the light of tomorrow."

Half an hour passed as Cleave Rend grew more and more impatient. A cry from one of the band caught his attention immediately. "Alas. He returns. And not a moment too soon." he said as he greedily rubbed the blade of his black axe. "Everyone gather 'round. We shall soon march into battle and I don't want any of you to scare 'em off before I get my blood!" They converged on his position and waited obediently and silent until Tagvik returned.

"Speak." Cleave Rend ordered the goblin. Despite being severely out of breath with lungs that felt on fire, he responded at once as clear as possible.

"Just two of them, master. A man. And a hobbit. They have one horse between them." he said staring at the ground, not daring to meet his leader's eyes.

The giant orc turned from the scout and rubbed his chin deep in thought. He silently debated with himself before coming to a decision.

"I need the red. I shall go with Ulgvhen so that he can witness my triumph in the name of our family, four more of you to dress the horse and carry the meat back, and our newest addition so that he may prove his mettle." he growled, eyeing a young orc in the back of the group with wide black eyes and a bent mace. "We move out at once! The rest of you march back home to prepare for the feast. This horse will be the perfect addition to the flock of sheep we culled."

The two groups split apart, one headed south to the camp, the other west to their caves. As they walked, Cleave Rend clapped the young orc on the shoulder and pulled him under his arm.

"Do well, boy, and kill the hobbit. The man is mine. Otherwise it is you who shall give me my red and be left behind." The young orc paled under his leader's grip and swallowed hard at the thought of facing the orc and the axe that are Cleave Rend.
Chapter Three: Faceoff

Outsider sensed the approach in his rest and without stirring, opened his eyes. Slowly, adjusting to the bright light of day, his eyes found the small goblin watching them from the crest of the valley. He tensed, knowing no goblin was foolish enough to attack a group, even of only two, on its own. Which could only mean there was a larger force somewhere nearby.

A scout.

As soon as the goblin had vanished over the peak of the hill atop the valley, Outsider bounded to his feet and lifted the hobbit onto Jiff, who was already standing and ready to go as soon as his master was. Thom stirred and looked around quickly, fear obvious in his eyes.

"We're leaving already?" he said with difficulty. His nose was curved to the side, probably broken, and his lips had busted between his teeth and the cold, solid ground. "It can't be past nine!"

Outsider tightened the girth strap on Jiff so the saddle wouldn't slide and knelt beside the fire for a few moments before jumping up and mounting the gelding and taking off at a fast trot.

"What's going on, Outsider? I've had my fair share of dealings to know when something is wrong."

Outsider decided to tell him in the hopes it would make him more cooperative. "We've been spotted. A goblin scout found our camp, so I can only assume it's a nomadic group of goblins or orcs. Possibly both." He looked behind them and decided to keep to the slick grass rather than the dirt. It was slower going as the horse had to work to maintain traction but would leave a more difficult trail to follow.

"So why aren't we fleeing at top speed then? Let's get out of here!" Thom tried to reason. But Outsider simply shook his head.

"If they hunt out here in the plains they'll need horses. Meaning they could follow us if we leave a dust trail from a full gallop. Too risky. This way we have time to get far enough away to leave direct sight, without giving them a way after."

Thom couldn't argue with the bounty hunter's logic and had to admit he lacked the knowledge and experience his captor had in such a circumstance. He himself had only been in towns and cities, always paying a carriage or merchant caravan to take him through the roads and wilderness as fast as possible. He wasn't cut out for such a life out here. Sleeping on the ground, eating over a fire made by wood that hasn't been cleansed, going days without washing. It was barbaric and filthy and he would prefer prison to this he soon thought as the stiffness in his muscles from sleeping was replaced with a sore ache from riding.

They rode on for a half hour or so when Outsider decided it would be about time to witness. "Watch and see." he said when Thom asked why they were sitting still.

***

Cleave Rend, Ulgvhen, the young orc named Toric, and four of the hardiest orcs rode up to the base of the hill that preceded the valley that held the campsite, and dismounted. They crouched low and drew their weapons, a myriad of axes, maces and a single spear, as they ascended the rise. When the war party reached the peak, they looked down at the little site and could see the glow of the fire on the opposite side of the tarp that hid the actual camp itself.

The group descended the slope and spread out around the tarp in two groups, Cleave Rend on his own in the center, and as they ran around the sides, he tore through the tarp and straight into the middle of a bedroll. They stabbed into the empty rolls and quickly looked all about the small valley before deciding they were gone. The giant orc threw his axe into one of the small trees that held the tarp aloft and completely split it with a resounding crack.

"Where are they!" he roared and turned on his men, the axe back in his hand. "How did they know we were coming!?" His wild eyes tore into each orc around him, causing them to flinch when he stepped toward them, only to brush them aside and walk toward the little source of heat. "What's this?"

He stared down at a small pouch that sat beside the fire, so close it was cinged and picked it up. As he did, the contents, a black dust, poured out through a small hole cut in the bottom corner facing the fire. It hit the flames, and with a sizzling noise like melting fat off a steak, the fire travelled up the dust and into the pouch that Cleave Rend held where it exploded into a massive fireball that engulfed the entire campsite.

***

"What the devil was that!?" Thom bellowed from the ground after falling off Jiff in surprise. "It was like Hell itself had been unleashed."

Outsider heaved the hobbit back onto the horse and sped off into a gallop. "A special concoction I made that as you saw is extremely volatile."

Thom's eyebrow raised in an arc. "What's in it?"

Outsider laughed and shook his head. "You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to tell you. You would use the knowledge to blow your way out of prison."

The thief laughed in spite of himself and smiled deviously. "Well. Maybe a little."

Outsider sped Jiff on to separate themselves from the destruction before anyone came to inspect what had transpired. After all, it was still in view from Rusk's highest towers. And though he was sure the fires would be extinguished by the weather and much of the ground was too wet to burn, the smoke was already rather high now and coiled off into the sky like a titanic black serpent.

They left the scene quickly; content the orcs were dealt with, but ready to move on. It was only a day's ride to Journ where he could stock up on supplies before heading out for a tenday to Cain Sander, keen to receive his pay and be rid of the thief before the little one could wile some way out of capture. He had been a bounty hunter long enough to know better than underestimating someone. Especially by size.

This one is going to give me trouble. I just know it.

***

The sheer force of the eruption threw Ulgvhen off his feet and away from the roiling flames that decimated the four meant to carry the meat. Through the pain of what he knew was a broken arm and leg, he opened his eyes and tried to stand. Over the roaring drone of the flames that had spread up the trees and grass he could hear a wailing, the likes of which that gripped his heart. He looked down with his blurred vision and saw Toric, crawling away from the campsite on all four, completely ablaze. He screamed and writhed about in agony in an attempt at extinguishing the flames, but the muscles in his arms and legs were already melting away and he could no longer move. Instead he lay still and cried out until that too was taken away from him.

So badly Ulgvhen wanted to jump to his feet and save his young comrade, but his arm and leg wouldn't obey him and the shock of it made his good arm and leg shivering limbs with a mind of their own. He hollered over the whooshing of the flames and the crackling of his men's corpses for Toric, but no reply came from the charred black form across from him. He cried out again and after a moment of silence came an answer.

"DEATH AND DESTRUCTION IS MY NAME, AND I SHALL BRING THEM TO THOSE RESPONSIBLE! FOR I AM UNLEASHED! AWAKENED AM I, AND RIGHTLY SO! FOR REVENGE SHALL BE MINE!"

Swallowed in fire and disfigured beyond recognition, face missing with a blackened skull where it once was, gripping his axe which glowed orange from the heat, Cleave Rend stepped out of the inferno.
Chapter Four: A Stop along the Way

Riding the powerful northern winds, the eagle soared overhead in a majestic sweep of its wings. Staring down at the two riding along below it, the eagle found its interest piqued. Who were these two land-walkers to think they could ever outpace one such as her? For none had claws as shined or feathers as superbly colored. She would show those foolish two-legs that wings were far superior.

Diving down with a screech, the bird of prey hurtled straight at them at an alarming speed. She shrieked a piercing cry of challenge and fully extended her razor sharp talons, imagining the feeling of stabbing them into their o so fragile eyeballs.

The wind couldn't carry her fast enough.

The ringing call from above gave the bounty hunter below plenty of time to prepare for the inevitable incursion. Reaching into his cloak, he felt for the mahogany handle that gave him a self assured sense of relief and gripped it tightly with his long, gloved fingers. With a deep breath sucked in between his lips, he slowed the beat of his heart until it was well below average.

Thom turned his head, as his body was still strapped to the saddle, and looked down from the great shadow looming over them then up to its owner.

"We've got a visitor!" he cried and struggled to free himself in vain. He looked back from the eagle, now close enough to identify, and back to the motionless form of the man beside him. "Outsider!" He screamed in anxiety, eyes wide with fear.

Faster than the hobbit's eye could follow, Outsider's hand shot out of his cloak with knife in hand. He spun it around on his palm and caught the tip of the blade between his thumb and forefinger before sending it spinning blade over hilt into the sky. He watched it go until it was nearly lost in the light of day, when the eagle descended straight into its path and went limp.

It dropped like a stone for several seconds then hit the ground with a crack. The mysterious rider turned his horse about and rode over to the feathered form crumpled in the grass. He leapt down from the saddle and turned the bird over to retrieve his knife. "Such a waste. I hate to kill when it isn't necessary.

Thom marveled at the beast's size. The eagle's wingspan was over three times his height and nearly as long as a man from beak to tail. "That's the biggest eagle I've ever seen. Could I have a feather from its wing? I do so enjoy writing with a good quill in my down time."

Outsider shrugged and slid the blade back into the concealed sheath on his side just below his shoulder. "Well you'll sure have plenty of that down time you're so fond of." Stooping down low he plucked a single mottled color feather and handed it to the little waiting hand behind him. "Well let's be off. We're nearly to Journ now and I'd like to be there before nightfall."

Pressing Jiff on to full gallop, they thundered across the hills for several leagues, oblivious to the passage of time until the sun had set. Thom laughed and nudged Outsider with his elbow. "Well, looks like we'll have to settle in for the night eh? Wouldn't want to push Jiff on through both the day and night." His mind began to forge a plan immediately. If he could get away before reaching a town it would leave fewer witnesses with his appearance to sell him out to any who may be searching for him. All this was cut short at his captor's next words.

"No need. Journ lies just there between those two thickets of forest. We'll arrive within the hour just in time for supper." He rubbed his chin in thought. "Though it is strange there are no lights.."

In a foul mood, Thom spat and tried to wriggle out of the ropes for the nth time that day. "Who gives a fig about the lights!" Beneath his hood, Outsider smiled at the remark and tried to imagine how his little 'guest' must feel.

"Surely riding into a town separated from the one your highest bounty hangs in by several hundred leagues hasn't put you in such an unruly temper?"

"What do you mean 'highest' bounty?"

"Well you must know you have several bounties on your head in varying towns and cities? I simply picked the one with the highest price: Cain Sander."

Thom smiled smugly, a crease rising up his cheek. "That popular am I? Must be getting famous."

Perhaps all this will be worth it in the end. I escape, feign my death, and word will spread that the infamous Thomulus, son of Thomein, had finally met his end. I could start all over without risk of men such as this Outsider. He rubbed his stubby fingers together greedily and imagined the gold coins and gems they would soon be counting.

These happy thoughts carried him the next hour in silence until they had passed under the awning of Journ and entered the little town. The sixth sense that had kept him alive for so long was aflame now, something telling him to leave before whatever was here found him, buzzing in the back of Outsider's mind until he could hardly focus. He blinked several times, gradually clearing his vision until all that rang in his ears was the echo of the howling wind.

Where are the lights? The fires to show someone is home?

His eyes easily found the inn's sign in the dim moonlight that shone through the trees in brilliant rays of silver against a midnight backdrop. The forest swayed around the desolate town on either side with the wind and seemed to press in on them, surrounding the buildings to guard any escape. Thom shook beside him, whether from the cold or fear he didn't ask.

"Something's wrong. Stay here. Jiff will know if anything approaches long before you will so I wouldn't try to take off if I were you." He swung out of the saddle and whispered into the near-invisible gelding's ear before disappearing into the night. Instantly the bound thief clumsily pulled the feather from his pocket and stuck the bone of it between the ropes around his wrists in a back-and-forth motion. He grinned as the threads began to split.

"To the Nine Hells with you, Outsider. I'll be long gone with your horse to leave you with your ghost town. Keep the dagger." he whispered under his breath. Jiff whinnied as if to tell him:

I heard that.

***

A rider? Who would come this way anymore? Everyone goes out of their way to avoid this accursed place. Up to no good I wager. Well let them try and harm me already abandoned home. I'll show 'em just how terrible this place really is.

A figure crept from the bushes nearby and made its way to the pub, setting down the water bucket it carried. It slipped through the door quickly and having memorized the room's arrangement since making it their home, was outside again within ten seconds. A small axe appeared in its hand now as it eyed the prone man atop the horse.

That damn steed will hear me coming long fore I can get there.

Crouching low, the figure moved around the side of the building and as swiftly as it could go with one free hand, scaled the ladder propped up against it. It stealthed across the low roof, going extra slow to choose its footing carefully, and tested the balance of the axe for throwing.

"Beautiful." it whispered and prepared to throw. Something pressed into its back, a slight pinprick, just between its ribs.

"It is a nice spot isn't it?" a smooth voice whispered from behind. The figure stiffened and began to turn. "I really wouldn't." Outsider said and pressed a bit firmer. "Drop the axe and you'll get to see the sun rise."

The axe clattered and slowly slid down the sloped roof with a metallic scrape. Suddenly the figure leapt forward off the roof, hit the ground feet first, and caught its axe.

Jiff saw the movement and bucked backwards away from it, sending Thom to the ground. The fall knocked the wind out of him and he lay there stunned trying to regain his breath. He searched the darkness with his eyes but couldn't see his own hand in front of his face.

His hand!

He scrambled across the ground until he found the feather, snapped into three pieces. "Curse it all! he gasped and threw them into the air. "Stupid horse, there's nothing there!"

"Oh I wouldn't be so certain!" a rough voice bellowed from a few feet away. "So there're two of ye'. Twice the pleasure then to kill ye' both!" The figure charged forward at the helpless hobbit and swung the axe down with all its force.

But the blow never connected. The figure was thrown off balance by a kick to the back of its right knee and thrown to the ground. It rolled to its feet in an instant and turned to face the attacker.

Outsider pressed forward, dagger drawn, and took stock of the situation.

Thom's fine, just thrown from Jiff who was only startled, and I'm facing a wild dwarf with a single handed axe. Simple enough. He ducked to the side, dodging a thrust of the axe's blunt head, and responded by grabbing the dwarf's thick wrist and punching its elbow upward. A loud pop resounded and the dwarf grunted.

"That all ye got?" he growled. "Me mother spanked us harder as children!"

"For your information, had you been human or elf, your arm would be broken." Outsider replied. "As it is, you now have a torn muscle, inhibiting your right arm's effectiveness."

The dwarf laughed and twirled the axe in his other hand. "Good thing I'm left handed then." A surprisingly fast swipe came next, just narrowly missing Outsider's hood, and followed it up with a flat-footed kick which caught his shin. He jumped at the man who had slipped to one knee and brought the blade of his axe down on his head.

Instead, the dwarf's own blood splattered across his face as the man rolled to the side and threw his knife into the dwarf's shoulder. He grunted again in pain, clenching his teeth, and growled angrily as he slid the knife from his shoulder and dropped it to the ground. "Now we're talkin'." He charged again, full tempo, and frenzied against the unarmed man.

Outsider dodged and ducked the furious attacks, arms in his cloak, then spun on his heel and brought his other foot into the flat of the berserker's face, cracking his nose. Then he dodged the blind swing that followed, grabbed the dwarf by the throat, and placing his foot behind the dwarf's, slammed him into the ground. A second knife flashed into his hand and appeared beneath the bushy beard.

"Remain still, dwarf, or I will end you. Make no mistake." he whispered in a manner so certain even a dwarf with an axe wouldn't push too far.

"Fine. Ye have me. Just be done with it, coward!" The furious warrior spit in the darkness of Outsider's hooded face and hit em over the head with his axe just as the hilt of a knife struck the dwarf on the temple. Both fighters lay still on the ground, semi-conscious.

Thom watched the whole ordeal from where he fell and remained so for several moments as he struggled to tear his eyes from the scene. When he did, they landed on the small glint nearby: Outsider's first knife. He exclaimed in glee and fumbling slightly, cut the ropes around his wrists.

As soon as they fell, he reached out for his captor and gripped his collar as surely as something gripped his mind. A fierce anger took hold of him and his vision flushed red.

"Take me in to prison will you? I think not." a whisper said alongside his voice. He raised the knife at his short arm's fully extended length and aimed in the darkness for the bounty hunter's chest. Outsider lay still and dazed as the knife was drawn. Just then the dwarf sat up with a loud gasp and screamed before falling back to the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

However, Jiff, at the sudden movement and loud cry took off full sprint away from the source, dragging Thom away by the rope around his ankles down the street and into the woods. The last sound in the town that night was the hobbit's screams as his flesh was torn away by the frozen ground.
Chapter Five: Other Plans

Ulgvhen couldn't look away from the remnants of his brother as it barreled along beside him on its terrified horse. The soot-colored leather and warped iron around its frame were a strange sight indeed, it was very obvious that they had been burned, but it was the black skull where the face should be that grabbed attention.

The heat had caused several hairline fractures along the cranium which revealed the gray matter within and the eye sockets were empty, with a pair of black abysses staring back. Roaring another war cry, the jaw bone lowered and unhinged on one side.

"The dust trail leads west, not to Rusk, so Journ is closest." the orc beta observed. "I've heard tale that the town is haunted."

Cleave Rend popped his jaw back in place with a loud pop. "Then we shall snare them in the dark and leave their souls among the wandering!"

The skull was incapable of showing emotion, but Ulgvhen would bet his right arm that at that moment he saw it smile.

***

The guard captain rubbed his temples with the hand that covered his eyes. Stress lines were beginning to develop on his young face above his bright green eyes. Leaning heavily on his desk, he sighed and looked back up at the shopkeep in his office. "One more time, the thief stole what exactly?"

The burly man stamped his foot in aggravation. "He stole my most prized possession he did!" he snarled. "The dagger they used to kill the last dark elf that dared set foot in this town over a hundred years ago! It's got a purple gem in the hilt and a black blade."

Captain Robaine jotted down notes on a roll of parchment quickly as the man recounted the incident. He'd heard a thousand stories like it in his ten years of service. He also knew that no one had ever managed to track down the elusive hobbit.

"So here's my advice. Enhance your security when running a stall, and save up for a store." Already he could see the man's face flushing with anger. "Meanwhile, I'll call in a few favors and ask around for any information." The captain stood and ushered the plaintiff to the door.

"No, captain, you don't understand! That blade it.." He stopped short and looked at war with himself. Robaine knew the look.

"If you know something that may help find it, I can always say it was anonymous."

That appeased the burly shopkeep. "Alright. The dagger. It's named Darkbane. And the black blade be enchanted to turn white around the disgusting creatures; let you know they're around."

"You're a racist." Robaine stated simply. "You know full well the dark elves have been formally introduced to society for over fifty years now with the Treaty of Broken Sky."

"I'm no racist; racism is against people, and they're only monsters. Plenty of people distrust them for we still remember their evil ways. Besides, even I did love them; it's a one-of-a-kind weapon and priceless." The man's tone implied he was still holding back.

"Then why was it in a stall in the first place? Surely a merchant's market is no place for such an invaluable item." the captain goaded. To his pleasure he saw the look of defeat in the man's eyes.

"Alright, captain. I may have..acquired the blade by let's just say questionable means."

"So you stole it."

The man nodded the affirmative.

"And that was enough to hold your tongue for so long at such a high cost? Who'd you steal it from? Drell himself?" Robaine jeered.

The man paled and sweat beaded his brow. His eyes were wide with fear and his teeth had begun to chatter. "No... the Heavywinter Clan."

At once the Captain of the Guard wished the man had stolen from the God of Death.

***

"So you are telling me, that some fat merchant, not only managed to steal Darkbane from our treasury but had it stolen from him in turn?" the Warrior bellowed. "How have you learned this? Speak quickly for my time is valuable."

The guard before him nodded and bumbled his way through an apology. "Of course, Chief Dunawar, of course. I heard it straight from the captain. He was talking to the man."

Dunawar jumped to his feet, his full seven feet of height towering over the informant. "You mean the thief. What is his name?"

"The captain? Roba—"

"No, you little fool! The thieving merchant!"

The guard backed away as he noticed the Warrior's features beginning to angle downward in a rage. The rage of the Warrior was legendary, but the Heavywinter Clan was renowned for their temper being excessive even by that standard. "I don't know, the captain didn't tell, said it was to be kept secret for his protection." He was heading for the door now; he knew it was just a few feet behind him.

"You bring me this news without the name of the perpetrator! How dare you be so bold?" The Warrior reached out, covering the room in two strides, and lifted the guard off his feet with a single hand. Eye to eye he stared him down until he was shaking.

"And so the ant was crushed before the mountain's wake."

And with that, the gargantuan chief spun on his heel, blond hair spinning around his broad shoulders, and hurled the man through the wall from the top story of his tower.

"Good riddance."

In the ensuing silence his son entered the room. Tall and powerfully built, Dradewen was the spitting image of his father with a strong jaw and broad face. However his raven hair and eyes differentiated him from the blond chief, and every other member of the clan for that matter.

It had been the bane of his existence.

"Father, we've found.." He trailed off as he noticed the hole in the wall then quickly recovered. The sight was nothing new. "We've found someone with news of the blade." He stepped aside and a frail woman wearing rags entered. The smell of poverty followed.

"Speak, wench, and only the truth or I will have your tongue." Dunawar growled, the vein in his neck still bulging. She eyed his immense size and bear-sized body of muscles fearfully.

"Yes, lord. I be beggin' that day as is usual an' came to the market for it was busy it was." Dradewen nodded encouragingly as she faltered. "An' I's is walkin' 'round when I hears some'un a screamin'. I follows it and sees this little fella' run off with a knife!"

Dunawar stepped forward eagerly and she instinctively flinched. But the chief was intrigued and tilted her face up from the floor with both hands gingerly. "Little fellow?" He asked with trepidation.

"A hobbit." she stammered beneath his light grip. "Dark hair and no taller than me waist."

Her eyes bulged as her skull was slowly crushed between his hands. Dradewen pulled him away from her but the damage was done. She collapsed lifelessly, twitching. Dradewen looked into his father's eyes but saw they were focused elsewhere.

"Father! Are you alright?" Concern, usually repressed and forgotten, filled his voice. Dunawar pushed his son's hands away then froze as he noticed the gore on his own. His eyes flicked from his crimson fingers to the crumpled form on the floor.

"What happened?" The young Warrior asked. "You just froze and squeezed her in a daze."

Dunawar shook his head and turned his back to the room, leaning on the table with hands far apart and remained stationary for a minute before slamming his fist down and sending both sides of the table up to meet in the shattered middle.

"Thomulus. His name is Thomulus."

***

"There's Journ." Ulgvhen pointed across the plains to the foreboding woods. "No more than a day's ride." He flashed his teeth in anticipation of avenging Toric and the others. The desire for revenge had been smoldering in him just as the young orc's corpse had done. And now, this close to those responsible, the embers within had caught flame in the mountain air.

"I will make them suffer for what they did."

A quick movement to his left and Ulgvhen was on the ground. His broken leg seared with pain as he landed, his arm tucked in close to save it. He eased his neck up from the flat of his belly and saw two black boots, metal rippled and warped like used candle wax. He was flipped over on his back and grunted at the throbbing that shot up his leg.

A black skull stared down at him emotionlessly.

"You will do no such thing, brother." Cleave Rend spat the last word like an insult. "I shall deliver our revenge with the utmost fury while you watch in awe at the power before you." The axe was lowered beside Ulgvhen's face so close he could see his reflection in the deep black of its blade. "Anything less will have undesirable side effects. You are a mighty warrior and I do not benefit from your death. Obey me now, and your future will be bright with the flames of our enemies' homes.

"Understood?"

Ulgvhen stared into his own eye a moment longer before replying. "What choice do I have...brother."

***

Captain Robaine shook the man's hand, slipping a small pouch of gold into it inconspicuously, and walked away quickly. His uniform, with the red raven against a black sun stitched upon them would be a dead giveaway in this part of town if he strayed too long. Head low and cape concealing the emblem on his chest he turned the corner into an alley and emerged on the opposite side near his office.

It was exactly this advantage of a prime location near his sources that made his decision to move his office away from the guard's tower permanent. He placed his key within the lock of his little structure's door and turned it. The lack of resistance alerted him that the tumblers were down and it was already unlocked.

He slipped his sword from its sheath and slowly eased it open. The inside was dark and cluttered, just the way he left it. Perhaps he had forgotten to lock the door. Sword back in its scabbard, he closed the door behind him and turned the bolt down.

A pair of hands the size of his head clasped his shoulders and lifted him off the ground, turning him about, and pressed him against the wall. He shouted in alarm and reached for his sword but an iron grip caught his wrist as well. He searched the darkness in vain for he had no windows but found it unnecessary.

"Only one kind of man could hold someone up with one hand and restrain them with the other."

A candle flashed to life passed its flame to a lantern. The immense outline of a Warrior appeared in front of him, another off to the right in the center of the room. He was lowered into a chair which was then slid to the table in the middle. The other turned about to face him, staring hard into his eyes with a tangible determination.

"Dunawar." Robaine addressed politely with an incline of his head. "Dradewen." The Warrior chief smiled, wrinkles framing his mouth and just under his eyes, revealing his age in the firelight. The captain eyed the gray roots in the hair of the man across from him. "I see age has been to see you since last we met."

The Warrior's deep throated chuckle shook the table. "And I see you still have the habit of forgetting your friends."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Robaine replied shaking his head.

"Oh come now!" Dunawar growled through grit teeth, all facades of pleasantries gone. "You've been to see one of your little contacts in the efforts of finding my dagger. Yet you neglected to share such information with me. I find this rude and ill thought out."

"I appreciate your concern and apologize for offending you. But this is an official matter of the guard. Which by the way." Robaine stared straight into the Warrior's stare. "I thought you might have been involved with the disappearance of one of my men. It might interest you to know that we found his body. As well as a dead beggar woman."

"You dare insult me with idle threats! You have nothing to associate me with such an act!"

"Oh really? Because both of them have handprints the exact same size upon their heads, and I'd bet my right eye that yours are the perfect fit."

The room was silent, the tension so thick it was hard to breathe. Robaine tensed as he felt Dradewen place his saucer-sized hands on his shoulders and gave them a squeeze. Without straining in the slightest, the guard's clavicles began to flex underhand.

"Dradewen?" The boy's father called. Instantly the pressure subsided. "I think that's enough." He leaned in close, so big that his upper half spanned the table until he was inches from the sweating Robaine's face. "Tell me what you know."

The captain complied and nodded hurriedly as his shoulders were pressed again.

"Okay, okay!" He sucked in a deep breath and shook his head. "The hobbit named Thomulus was last seen being taken away by a cloaked man, hands and feet bound."

This caught the Warrior unawares. "Another thief perhaps?"

"Or someone with a score to settle."

"Well which way did they go?"

Robaine stroked his hair back from his face. "Said they were going west. First town that direction would be Journ. But everyone says it's—"

"Haunted? Well we're going to find out when we go there and string up that thief and this cloaked man!" Dunawar boasted. "Boy, go fetch Havig and tell him to prepare the horses. You and I will travel with Gren and Idvaren to Journ tomorrow morning!"

The loyal son left immediately, leaving the captain and chief alone.

"I expect you to stay out of this." the bear of a man smirked, the pretense of friendship at the fore again. He slapped Robaine on the back as he walked past him to the door. "Or I'll burn you to the ground within this windowless prison.
Chapter Six: New Developments

Darkness. Sweet, sweet darkness. No harsh rays of light to dilate ones' eyes in such a painful fashion. To sit and relax, ease oneself into it, was mesmerizing. How warm it was! How utterly comfortable to lose who you are inside the writhing mass of darkness. A single mind, a hive of identities merging to defend themselves from the outside world, formed the outer umbra of the shadows. Within it, they're all the same invisible being who doesn't want to be seen.

It's when they leave the darkness, or as much of it as they can leave behind, that their worth is judged and their fate decided.

Outsider's eyes flicked open.

A searing pain shot through them and he grit his teeth as his left hand covered them reflexively while the right pulled the cowl of his hood low to his nose. Protected, he sat up slowly and instantly regretted it. An unsettling swaying began in his stomach and rose up his throat, threatening to choke him. He gulped in the cool air and scratched an itch on the side of his head. His fingers came away bloody.

One by one the memories of the night before flashed through his mind. Like paintings poorly illuminated by a single candle, they blurred and darkened in places as he struggled to view them and make sense of the situation. The last thing he saw was the knife in his hand fly free from his grip before darkness swallowed his vision and the candle was snuffed.

Steadying himself against the nearby wall of the inn, he stood shakily and sucked in a few more deep breaths before opening his eyes again.

A deep throated groan eased out a few feet to his left. "By Dirringyr's hammer, what time it be?"

Within the bounty hunter's cloak of shadows he was able to make out the prone form of the dwarf stirring and rubbing its hairy face. But everything else around it, covered in frost or dewy grass, was a bright blur that remained out of focus through the searing pain in his corneas. Unable to find his knives where they fell, he slipped the dagger he had taken from Thom from its sheath in his belt and beheld the snow-white blade.

His eyes filled with tears as the intense color stung his eyes like fire. It was like nothing he had felt since first seeing the sun. An insurmountable ache that tore at the back of his skull until he wanted to dig out his eyeballs and quench the flame behind them. He pressed his open palm to them until colors swam in the darkness and the smarting beneath his eyelids had lessened to that of a typical sunny day. He blinked several times to be rid of the blade's afterimage.

A thought struck him and he recoiled as if the burning in his eyes had transferred to flame in his right hand.

"Darkbane." he whispered, afraid anyone would hear him. The blade was legend among the dark elves and often used as a curse to those who would bear the dark people harm. Many stories had been passed down the generations of the mythical dagger who had claimed so many of their kin. Outsider however, with a renewed vigor, stared into its blade for so long he thought his eyes would bleed.

He memorized its every detail. Committed every facet of its ornate handle to memory, and imprinted the beautiful curves of the swept blade in his brain. It was indeed, the most stunning piece he had laid eyes on. A hilt carved from ebony grooved to fit within a hand with slight punctuations where the fingers were separated, adorned with a lavender gem on the pommel with a color so rich and vibrant the crystal was no longer opaque and looked delicate as a morning glory. The cross guard was like onyx and swept low over his fingers on the far end, with the high copying the shape in the opposite direction, going up along the blade; which in several ways caught his eye. Aside from the metal that was pure as ice and near the same color, its craftsmanship was breathtaking. Curved backward like a miniature scimitar with a single razor-sharp edge, blood groove and expertly engraved fuller, with runes lining its length on the dull side, beauty melded with application, turning a weapon into art.

He knew too of its enchantments, having feared them as a child. Around the dark elves, it would glow to its current fervor to hinder their brilliant eyesight and warn its wielder of their stealthy approach. Yet it also bore no markings of the countless battles it had survived, obviously indestructible, and seemed to have no weight save that of the gem.

What a wonder that you should fall into my hands.

He turned back to the dwarf who was now staring back at him, stunned, and crouched low defensively. Having stared into the blazingly bright blade of Darkbane for so long, Outsider found himself able to see everything around him in perfect clarity; the sun's light upon them meager by comparison.

"Well, stranger? Be on with it. Strike me down with your blade and be on your way!" the thick dwarf challenged. "Seems your friend's already left ye' for dead."

Outsider showed no sign of surprise but had actually forgotten all about the hobbit. He looked to the side, feigning boredom, and saw that he and Jiff were gone. Something else seemed to leap out at him however.

Drag marks.

The dwarf stepped forward, recovered fully with his race's toughness and hard heads to propel him. "So what'll it be, invader? Are ye' here to kill or here to die? By me father's beard I'll go down swingin'!"

Outsider eyed the little fighter, noticing the axe in his hand, then travelled to his face. It was pale, gray bags under his eyes like bruises and strained as if sick. His clothes were that of a merchant with some amount of wealth as well as old armor underneath, but obviously hadn't been cleaned in several days. The beard was thick and black, though graying, and unkempt. Blood caked the side of his face beneath his crooked nose and the side of his forehead above his eye.

"Relax, friend, I mean you no harm." Outsider answered in as soothing a tone he could manage. "Last night was a misunderstanding and I'm sure had we met on better terms we would have had business together with coin to be made."

The dwarf's bushy eyebrows mashed together in a frown as he chewed over the words for a while. He brushed back his wild hair with one hand and gripped his axe in the other. "Explain your business. Why come here of all places? Have ye' not heard tale o' the ghosts?"

Outsider shrugged and sheathed Darkbane within his cloak. "Admittedly, I had not." he said sheepishly. "Had I, I assure you I would have gone straight past down to Delvin."

"Why are you here in the first place?"

At this Outsider's mind began to weave together a story he hoped would pass as plausible. Under normal circumstances he would have gone with a standard series of events no one could argue. But this dwarf here was paranoid and had been through something so traumatic his mind had been harmed.

"My friend, I don't know if you saw the ropes on him, but he is sick and deranged; started attacking people and speaking in tongues. I was taking him to Delvin to receive medical attention when I noticed Journ nearby, having nearly missed it in its current dark state."

The dwarf's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What ailment he be sufferin'?"

"Our town healer couldn't diagnose it which is why I was bringing him." He could see the lingering doubts in the warrior's eyes and strived to relinquish their hold on him. "What's your name, son of the mountain? Surely a mighty fighter such as yourself has a befitting name for such?"

At this the dwarf shuffled his feet and hesitantly dropped his axe into the loop on his belt. "Merlon Axebringer of Journ, son of Neirk Kingfeller. And you?"

The name Neirk was known to Outsider, but the title of Kingfeller was not. He realized Merlon was waiting for an answer and quickly recovered. "Aegis, son of Garren" he lied smoothly.

"Where ye' from, Aegis? We dwarves have good vision in the dark after generations underground mining, but yours belittled mine." His finger scratched at the loop holding his axe close at hand. At the hesitation he saw, he stepped forward and pointed to the cloaked man. "Be true with me, stranger and I swear it upon me name to judge ye' with equal resolve."

Outsider nodded slowly and uncrossed his arms. "Fair enough." He held Merlon's gaze evenly as he threw back his hood and revealed his length of silvery hair and light gray skin with the subtlest of a blue tinge. Merlon tensed but made no move for his weapon. Instead he studied the features closely. The high cheekbones and sharp angular features, a high bridged, prominent nose and bright gray eyes that smoldered like coals. Last of all were the tall and pointed ears within the shaggy mane of hair that hung to his chin and blew in the wind.

He was tall for an elf; about six feet or just under and something seemed off about his color for he wasn't nearly as dark as most.

But the scars would forever linger in his mind just as they would the elf's face.

Long and thin, the wound stretched from his left eyebrow and across the nose to his right cheek. A trio of scars as if from an animal was along the side of his jaw as if reaching for his eye, and a third at an angle down his neck that curved in a crescent.

They were silent for a long while as they measured each other's strength. It had been years since Outsider had allowed his hood back in view of others or felt so naked. Even surrounded by enemies with nothing to defend himself save his hood, he felt more secure than he did now. The scrutinizing of his bare face made him cringe, but he revealed no discomfort, a mask of proud defiance staring back at Merlon.

"Dwarves have no love of elves. 'Specially dark elves." he said at long last. Outsider tensed in anticipation of an attack and regretted that he would have to kill such an honest dwarf. "But your eyes burn differently. I've fought many a dark elf in me time as a soldier two hundred years ago for me father. Together, our clan toppled the dark elves' hold on Temperith Wyat and cast 'em from our lands. But yer aura is odd. The same darkness within has a different light...yer not pure dark elf are ye?"

The words rang with truth and vibrated some other sense within Outsider with their power. "You have some magic within you, Merlon."

The dwarf waved his hand as if to knock the comment aside. "Ah, me mother was attuned to people. She always said you could see their auras if ye' just listened with an honest heart. Guess I listened to her as a pup."

"She sounds like a remarkable woman." Outsider pulled his hood back up thankfully.

Merlon smiled at this, his eyes crinkling slightly. "She was." He sucked in a shaky breath and laughed at himself. "Be gettin' sentimental in me ol' age."

"Regardless, Merlon, I thank you for being so straight forward with me. Very few have shown me such kindness or tolerance in my few years on the surface. Not even the dark elves as I am half surface elf and crossbreeding is deemed sacrilege. But for all intensive purposes 'dark elf' is the most common term I am called and accept." Outsider said and strode forward, hand outstretched. They shook briefly. "If your mother was anything like you I wish I could have met her. However, I did meet your father."

Merlon's jaw dropped into his beard. "When? How? Been missing for decades he has!"

"I'm afraid it was some time ago. Two years I believe."

"So he is alive." Merlon mused in deep thought. "I guess a part of me had given up hope."

"He is very much alive. He found me wounded after a vicious ambush by those who lack your racial acceptance. He brought me in and fed me, gave me treatment for my wounds. He told me his name but not his title."

"Kingfeller."

"Kingfeller." the elf echoed. "I assume it was the king of the dark elves in Temperith Wyat he slew?"

The fighter nodded. "Saw it meself. I had an arrow through me leg and was busy strangling the one responsible when the king comes forward and bears down on me with a magical staff. He waves it overhead and lightning spits from it with a boom like thunder." Merlon shuddered at the memory. "I never seen nothin' like it. Or felt. I was down, me whole body just frozen in pain, when me father tackled him to the ground and buried his axe in the king's chest.

"I suppose he was worried it would offend you to know he killed your king."

Outsider shook his head. "He was no king of mine. I was born here on the surface."

This intrigued Merlon to no end. "You are full of surprises, elf. I look forward to hearin' your stories some time. But for now, we should get."

The thought of having someone to talk to stirred something long dormant within Outsider but was quickly suppressed. "Yes. I'd best find Thom."

"Your sick friend?"

A pang of guilt lingered in the elf's chest. He hated to lie to one so honest, but discretion was one of his most prominent tools and pertinent to his job. "Exactly. I fear he may be dead, lost somewhere in the woods delirious with disease."

"No worries, my friend. We'll find 'em. I've been needin' an excuse to leave this place.." The dwarf ran into the inn and returned with a bag of supplies strapped to his back. "Been packed for weeks now. Come, Aegis, let us rescue your Thom!"
Chapter Seven: The Pack

The drag marks were easy enough to follow, but as to their cause they were unsure. Whatever had been strewn across the ground was obviously heavy, and here or there left small bits of cloth behind. Soon enough the cold ground was blotted with blood and it became clear to what had been drug along.

"It was him." Outsider announced, having figured it out. He turned to Merlon who was busying himself by inspecting a strip of cloth. "Thom was what made these marks. He must have fallen and been carried away when Jiff saw the fight."

Merlon grimaced. "By Dirringyr's hammer... Do you think he survived?"

Outsider crossed his arms. The bounty was the same alive or dead, so this way may be preferable. But if the body was found by wildlife and devoured, he'd be left with nothing to return to Cain Sander. He had to be sure.

"I really don't know. He's a hobbit and already sick."

"There's a chance however small."

"Alright. We'll keep searching." he agreed. "It would be so much easier if I could just call Jiff."

"Is that the horse?"

He nodded. "Bought him off a farmer a few months back. Not as trained as I'd like, but he understands me very well."

"Well why can't ye' call 'em?"

"If Thom is still connected to him he'll just be drug around again. If he is alive, I don't want to risk it."

The dwarf agreed and dropped the cloth. "We'd best hurry. These woods breed terrible wolves the size of bears."

Outsider peered around the thick foliage with narrowed eyes. "Fantastic."

They walked along at a jogging pace, ignoring the ominous beauty of the forest. Focused solely on the tracks, the world around them was a blur passing them by in a thousand shades of brown and green. Gradually the marks began to curve off the dirt path and into the grass at a slight incline. The emerald blades of flora were bent and crumbled along here, with several small bushes uprooted from the hobbit's failed attempts to hold on to them.

"Least he was still alive this far, eh?" Merlon offered in an attempt to lift morale. "And the grass'll be a smoother ride 'an before."

Outsider nodded curtly, not really listening, and quickened his jog to a run now that he had a more visible trail to follow. His eagerness rose as he knew he was closing in. Horses never ran for more than a few hundred yards when spooked unless chased. He barely noticed Merlon huffing and puffing along beside him. He had no doubt the dwarf was once in pristine shape and an even better fighter than the formidable opponent he was today, but his slow lifestyle had robbed him of his fighting physique.

As such, his brow was beaded in perspiration and his face flushed with exertion. His clothes stuck to him with sweat and his belly shook with each jarring step, but dwarves are hardy folk and used to tiresome work from mining most of their lives and he soon developed a pace he could keep all day.

They continued on for nearly half an hour when Outsider's keen senses picked up on something. He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but the culmination of his smell, sight, and sound multiplied by that sixth sense for danger warned him it was nearby.

Then he heard something else. A horse's whinny.

Instantly his eyes followed the sound and located Jiff, on the opposite side of a small clearing. The horse's eyes were wild with fear and he kicked about on his rear legs.

"Something's got 'em spooked." Merlon observed and drew his axe. "We should get—"

Out of the corner of his eye, Outsider saw movement to the far right, past Merlon who didn't see it coming. In a single twist, the bounty hunter leaped sideways until he was parallel to the ground and flicked the knife from its sheath on the underside of his wrist and into the beast's eye as its muzzle flashed open near the dwarf's neck.

He landed on one foot and propelled himself forward at the wolf, stabbing into it with another knife before retrieving the first, and sidestepping its wide swing as it collapsed with a whine. Merlon wasted no time after that and spun around to face the oncoming charge head on.

"Come on ye' little pups!" he challenged and bared his teeth. Another wolf accepted and growled at him. He sized it up at around six feet tall and at least ten long with paws the size of his torso and a mouth full of fangs longer than his arm. He stared it down and growled right back, hurtled between its front legs and hacked them out from beneath the great beast, rolling out of the way as it fell. He looked to the side and saw the elf leap around another while stabbing it between each landing, juggling the attention of two wolves with the same tactic. After a few passes, they both backed away from the cloaked elf with a dozen cuts.

The pack emerged now as a group and surrounded the two "prey". All were at least as large as the first two, with pelts varying in color from brown to gray, each with the same snarling expression. A single wolf stepped forward, larger than the rest by at least a Merlon, with jet-black fur with bright blue eyes. It howled a haunting tune that sent shivers through Outsider and made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The others joined in one by one until the myriad of voices created a harmony that thrummed in their chests with the force.

The Alpha, Outsider assumed, stared down at him with those cold cerulean eyes. He stared back with the intensity of his life. They stood there, feet apart, gauging one another and the threat he proposed. The others slowly pressed in on him, snarling and drooling with anticipation.

The titanic canine's breath was hot on his face and stank of raw meat and blood. The warm stench stung his eyes and perspired on his skin. He knew he was being tested and refused the option of failure. He knew it was rare for wolves to declare one as such a worthy opponent. His pride demanded victory and who was he to deny it?

A growl rippled through the Alpha's chest and he could sense the wolves behind him back away obediently. Seconds ticked by like hours as they watched. Merlon, in his battle-rage, had to use all his willpower not to heave his axe into the thick sinewy muscle of the gigantic black wolf as its neck craned forward to close in on 'Aegis'. The elf's white hair ruffled as a nose the size of his head sniffed it, and then lowered to his face. Outsider tensed as he always expected the worse, but held his composure.

Merlon wiped the sweat from his brow and onto his trousers so that his hand would be dry to hold his axe. He tested its weight once more for throwing, just in case, he told himself. He always had the spare across his back. It was much larger and wreaked immense damage, but was slow and heavy. He would prefer the speed of his small axe compared to his axion, but would make due if he must.

Fortunately, the Alpha was appeased and after nearly five minutes of a staring contest, he deemed the dark one dangerous and howled a sudden blast into the elf's face that made his heart skip a beat. The pack joined in one by one again until the crescendo reached a melody that Outsider swore he knew. He looked back and forth from the Alpha to the pack, and all eyes were on him. With a glance at Merlon, who was bewildered by the spectacle, he knew what to do.

He raised his head high and whistled the missing note.

The howling died away, echoing throughout the forest and seeming to change with each repetition, replaced by a soothing calm. Even the dwarf felt the change in atmosphere and at Aegis' beckoning, slid his axe through its loop. Each wolf then passed by Outsider and sniffed him before disappearing into the woods; the wounded ones more hesitant than the others. Utterly ignoring Merlon was no more than he could have asked for and he thanked the stone beneath his feet for receiving his wish.

Outsider however reveled in it. He despised being the center of attention, but these wolves were hunters like him, the black Alpha a kindred spirit. He could sense it, just as he had known they were there watching him. The leader was last to leave and eyed him poignantly before vanishing into the trees.

Outsider couldn't deny the sense of loss he felt at their departure. But it was quickly filed away for later. Without a word he swept across the clearing and up the slope to Jiff. The excited gelding leapt away whinnying and frenzied until he gripped the reins and called his name several times. Gradually Jiff calmed long enough for him to whisper in his ear and comfort him. The horse was covered in scratches and scared, but ultimately unharmed. Convinced his horse was okay, Outsider moved back around and found the rope tied to the saddle severed.

His sixth sense spiked again suddenly when a cry from behind made him jump. He turned, knife drawn, and found Thom sprawled across the ground, a knife in his hand, beneath Merlon. The dwarf's face was contorted in a rage again.

"Your friend here was sneakin' up on you with that knife he was! Just how sick is he, Aegis?" Concern evident in his voice, he pried the blade from the hobbit's hand and returned it to the elf. "He's pretty scraped up, and his back will need to be cleaned. But he seems alright."

He lifted Thom up and dusted him off. Thom, stunned and furious pushed him away. "Get off me! Who do you think you are?"

"He looks pretty shaken, Aegis. Well my name's Merlon, of Journ, son of—"

"I don't care! Who the devil is Aegis?"

"What's this? He's forgotten who you are!"

Outsider shook his head. "Yes, it would appear so. I'd best get him to a doctor immediately. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself." He struck Thom over the head, knocking him out cold. "Thank you so much for your help, Merlon." He shook the dwarf's hand and tossed Thom onto the horse then tied him down again. He threw the hobbit a furious glare none could see beneath his hood, and mounted Jiff.

"Farewell, good dwarf, and may you find fortune in your travels." He started to set off but Merlon ran in front of them.

"Wait! I'm goin' with ye' I am!" He raised his voice. "Me town is dead. Everyone up and disappeared, not a single thing left behind. I have to find out what's happened to 'em! And the north is no place for a lone rider. Please, Aegis."

"Who—?" Thom began groggily when he was thumped again. A slight snoring came from him then.

"He needs to rest." Outsider explained. He desperately needed to get the hobbit back to Cain Sander, but didn't want to dishonor the one person who had shown him any kindness in months. He wasn't a bad person and appreciated company religiously. However, when that person is overly trusting and gullible due to a shattered mindset, morals seem to shift.

A plan began to formulate in his mind.

"Alright. But you need a horse. Do you have any left?"

The dwarf shook his head crestfallen. "'Fraid not. They all disappeared too."

"Thom can't wait around much longer. He's deteriorating too quickly." Outsider reasoned. "I have to take him to Delvin immediately. So how about I take him, then while he's recuperating, I bring you a horse to come along with us?"

The dwarf smiled. His eyes though distant and obviously addled, brightened. "That be alright, Aegis. That be alright."

"Of course," the elf added, "I don't have the coin for such a thing. I suppose I could work it up for a few days.."

"No need!" Merlon thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a coin purse. He tossed it up to the elf who caught it with a deft hand. "Just get what you can! Preferably a pony. Fraid I might just slow ye' down if I'm constantly havin' to make sure I aint 'bout to fall."

Outsider nodded. "I shall bring you the most loyal pony I come across, dear friend. I shall return as soon as I can."

And with that he sped on Jiff, pocket jingling happily.
Chapter Eight: "No invitation?"

Jiff neighed happily as they left the woods of Journ and made their way through the desolate town. Munching on an apple, he clopped along past where he had dropped Thom, who was still unconscious and snoring, and left the town in favor of the open plains. He shook his mane in gratitude.

As the little hamlet disappeared from sight behind them Outsider could feel a great weight lifted from his shoulders. Only now, noticing the difference, did he register the presence that had been following them. Dark elves, after generations in the Shadowverse among demons and other summoned entities, had developed sensitivity to other-worldly beings and could sense when they were around.

There really is something back there.

He shook the eerie feeling that something had been watching all day and ignored the lump of guilt that settled in his throat and made it hard to swallow. It was times like these that he regretted making the decisions the life of a bounty hunter demanded. But repressive as he was, he buried such feelings deep where they couldn't hurt him.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He looked back and noticed that the frown Thom wore in his sleep had dissipated as well. His back was already scabbing over in the cold air and saved from much worse due to his thick coat. He turned back around when a glint of light whistled toward him, tearing him from his thoughts and into reality. He veered his course and pulled Jiff back, a spear thudding into the ground exactly where they would have been, and pulled the gray gelding around to face the oncoming threat.

A pair of riders rode toward him, one wielding an axe, the other a flail that swung overhead in an arc. With his acute elven vision, he saw the flail-wielder was an orc; large and a veteran in age and combat. The other appeared of similar build yet much taller with...he recoiled from it and had to blink a few times before looking again.

"What the hell?"

The skull-faced one took the lead of the two attackers and raised its wicked axe high with a battle cry that sounded like something from a nightmare. As it closed in, he could clearly see the empty eye sockets and bare boned head charred black.

As a learned bounty hunter, Outsider knew well that few things could make a fire hot enough to do such damage to bones as tough as an orc's. His concoction was one of them. He also knew that fewer things could empower one to live through such.

What had at first seemed a chance raid now appeared to be a strike at revenge.

"What? No invitation?" he called as the distance between them closed rapidly.

"Come taste the steel of Cleave Rend!" it bellowed and brought the axe down on him as it passed. Outsider saw his reflection in the midnight blade and recognized it as a sentient weapon by the aura it emanated. The fact that he could feel it troubled him. He ducked his head to the side and dodged the swipe, but was taken by surprise when the oncomer threw the axe from the end of its swing, which carried by its momentum, completed its pendulum back into its other hand; spinning from one hand and around its back to the other for a follow up strike.

The flat of the blade caught him in the shoulder and pulled him from the horse as Cleave Rend finished its pass. He hit the ground rolling and came up to his feet without harm. He whistled for Jiff and ran toward the gelding only to be cut off by the flail-wielder. He dodged a wide swing of the heavy weapon, amazed by the strength of the old orc, and flicked his knife at him.

But the orc was no rookie and had anticipated the retaliatory strike. As such he had a wooden shield already in place on his off hand into which the knife sunk. He pulled the knife free and threw it back.

He had no knowledge of how to correctly throw a blade however and the nimble elf easily caught it. He turned for another shot when Cleave Rend returned for a second charge and swung so low that he could have split the grass if only an inch lower. Despite the force of the blow backed by the speed of the horse, Outsider was able to throw a knife in the crease of its arm and jump up to kick it through the elbow before being knocked aside.

He rolled once more to his feet and realized they would juggle fighting to wear him down. If he wanted to survive he would have to even the playing field and take down the horse.

Outsider leapt aside as Ulgvhen assaulted with the flail once more and gave him a wide berth, then came back to the center of the field as Cleave Rend returned for a third pass. The elf slid across the frozen grass beneath the orc's horse, and retrieved the spear they had thrown. Then as he was about to be trampled, shoved it deep into the chest of the skull's horse. It gave a cry and collapsed forward onto the spear which dug into the ground, propelling the horse over its head until it landed on its back, crushing its rider.

At this, Ulgvhen charged from behind at the elf and brought down his flail in a mighty swing that tore the mace from its chain. The mace hurtled off several hundred yards but the chain found its mark and blew the elf off his feet. The orc dismounted and ran to his brother, pulling the horse off him with a groan, and found Cleave Rend's body bent double with his spine twisted and head lying against his shoulder.

The axe lay just out of reach.

"Brother?" he called as he laid him out flat on the ground. "Cleave Rend?" He turned his head and looked into where his eyes should be. "Uvrikh?"

Meanwhile, Outsider tried to catch his breath. He knew a few of his ribs were cracked and his shoulder had been popped out of place. Every time he tried to move it racked him with excruciating pains that left him sweating and shaking. Forcing himself to stand and biting his lip, he made it to his feet and drew another knife.

He was never one to lose an advantage even when hurt.

Using his good arm, he flicked it to his finger tips and threw it into Ulgvhen's back with enough force to sink the blade to the hilt. The orc roared and leapt up in a rage, with its chain clinking along behind it. Within its eyes, Outsider could see the fury. An orange menace burned in the blackness of the iris like a smoldering coal. With a burst of speed Ulgvhen leapt forward with the chain whistling past him already out. Outsider rolled from its reach and slipped Darkbane from its sheath. The blade pierced the darkness of the orc's eyes and shone in their reflection.

Then he covered the ground between them as quickly as possible to remove the chain's reach from the equation. But the orc was ready. The veteran warrior spun his wrist and the chain wound up his arm to the shoulder so tightly only the elbow was exposed. Darkbane came down on the chain with a cascade of sparks only to be shied away. The bounty hunter's cloak took a punch and pulled him down with its weight, but no bodily contact was made.

He hurriedly rolled onto the balls of his feet to evade a vicious stomp and sprang up with a roundhouse kick that caught the orc unaware, connecting with its jaw. It stunned Ulgvhen for only a second, but it was long enough. He clambered onto Ulgvhen's back and holding onto his shoulders for support, stomped the throwing knife previously stuck into his shoulder through the thick muscle until the blade was buried.

Ulgvhen was unable to raise his chain-laden arm to defend himself, but still he fought. His other arm grasped Outsider by the cloak and threw him in a circular fashion into the dirt.

The elf rolled, hitting his knees painfully as he tried to slow himself. His arm rolled back into socket with a sickening click and relief flowed through him. Then he was on his feet again as he was rushed. But he was the armed one this time. He loosed his grip on the dagger and allowed Ulgvhen to tackle him. But instead of being driven away he gripped onto the wounded shoulder with one hand, digging his fingers into the wound, and stabbing low with the other.

The orc dropped to his knees and snarled as the blood oozed down his back and from the corner of his mouth. Outsider looked down on him. "Finish me off, demon!" He stared at the ground. "Let me die with honor. Like a true orc warrior."

Ready to oblige, Outsider stepped forward with his dagger poised for a lethal strike. Then a chill crept down his spine as a specter passed by him. He backed away from the orc and his eyes raked the field for the shadow. Then they locked onto the axe near the dead horse and its fallen rider that was glowing maliciously. The grass around the ominous weapon withered and turned black as if scorched.

Even Ulgvhen stared it in surprise. "What's it doing?" He struggled to look back at Outsider who was deep in contemplation. "Answer me, murderer. I know the dark elves are versed in dark arts."

At that Outsider looked down at the wounded fighter with contempt and stomped his face into the ground with the heel of his boot.

"And I know orcs are too dumb to understand anyway." He turned from him and to the axe that was now shivering slightly as if cold. The body beside it convulsed. The black skull rose briefly. The elf watched in horror as the axe dragged itself through the grass to the grisly corpse and fitted itself within the gnarled fingers. Then in a flare of black flames, Cleave Rend was whole again and sat up, twisted his head back on correctly then one by one reset the broken bones.

For several moments only the popping of ligaments and cracking of ribs filled its mind. But it was quick to turn its attention to the one responsible.

"One such as yourself should be proud of what you have accomplished." the demon-voice cooed. "As such, it is with full knowledge of your feats that you shall leave this world." It stood and raised the axe high over head. Once again, Outsider was amazed at the once-orc's immense size. "But fret not, for yours will be a quick end. I respect you. And so your death will be."

"Is that right? Well I'm afraid I shall have to decline your offer. At least for the time being. You see, I have matters to attend to." His eyes passed over the towering monstrosity and searched for Jiff. "Sorry for disappointing you."

"I care not for your insignificant existence. Outside of the battlefield, you are nothing. So here you shall remain." The threat hung in the air like smoke, unanswered and intangible. "Let us begin."

The axe spun from his hand and split the air with a shrill shriek of steel as it was expertly deflected by Darkbane. But the sheer force of its whirling momentum knocked Outsider off his feet. With a spin of his lower torso in a windmill fashion he twirled onto his feet. He looked up and saw the axe was already back in its wielder's hand.

"Coming back from the dead...nice trick." Outsider mumbled under his breath. "My turn." His last throwing knife, the other within Ulgvhen's back, flicked into his hand with a backward grip and he stormed the resurrected monster with dual blades. He ducked low beneath a swing and stuck the dagger into its belly, rolled past another and slipped the knife between the plates of armor. Black blood sprayed from it and smeared across the blades, Darkbane's, seemingly repellent, dripped clean.

But Cleave Rend didn't seem to notice the wounds and shrugged them off as a mere inconvenience. It kicked at the elf and continued hewing away at his defenses. Hoping to tire out the little creature, it ignored any repercussions, and mindlessly pressed forward against him.

"You can't hurt me, you pest. You are but a flea upon a dragon; unable to chew through the scales." he jested and slammed the flat of the blade down in a parry, bending the knife.

Outsider looked at it and sighed.

"I am really running out of knives here." He rolled against Cleave Rend and stuck the knife into its leg, then snapped the bent blade off into it. Even ignoring the pain, the undead orc found its leg incapable of bearing weight and collapsed to one knee.

But the axe wasn't through yet. It continued swinging away and slowly making its way back toward its target.

Outsider was baffled. "I've seen some things in the Shadowverse that would make some men cry. But you," he pointed to the stubborn fighter, "You are something else entirely." And with that, he threw Darkbane into the skull where it broke clean through the cranium, leaving a gaping hole in one of the eye sockets. Cleave Rend keeled over and went motionless, having attained enough damage to need repairing.

The bounty hunter ran past it, not knowing what else to do, and retrieved Darkbane. He looked at the gore and brain matter spilling from the shattered skull and muttered thanks to the supernaturally clean blade as he slipped it back into its hidden sheath beneath his underarm.

He surveyed the little scene once more, watching as the axe began to glow, and reached out to pull it away from the corpse.

His sixth sense screamed at him.

"Perhaps not." He jerked his hand away and instead yanked free the spear from the horse, and drove it through the skull again, pinning it to the ground as deep as he could manage. Ulgvhen stirred nearby, and he paused to watch him falter and continue sleeping.

Turning around to call Jiff, he noticed the gelding was nowhere to be found. He whistled a high note that seemed to be culled by the fierce northern winds. Twice more he called and twice more he was met with nothing. His eyes narrowed within his cowl.

"Thom."

He turned to the fallen orc's horse that was grazing in the distance, accustomed to battle. He called to it, sensing it was hungry, and offered it a ripe apple that shone in the sun. The glint caught its eye.

That's right. Come on, boy.

Hesitantly it made its way to him, sniffed his hand, then the apple, then back to his hand, and crunched the apple out of his palm when it was satisfied no danger was present. It shook its mane as the stranger stroked it, than as if it had read its mind, scratched it behind the ear where it liked it.

"There you go, good boy." He patted the dark brown mustang reassuringly then swung into the saddle slowly, his ribs aching terribly. Soothing the new horse, he made his way west to catch the thief and reclaim not only Jiff, but his stake on the bounty.
Chapter Nine: Down to Business

Thom raced Jiff through the gates of Delvin without slowing in the slightest, screaming to the guards that a wild man was chasing him and claiming to be a bandit. The guards, having no reason to fear a hobbit, took up their swords and stood outside the gate and barred the door. No one would get past them.

One of the guards cupped his eyes to see in the setting sun's light. "There! On the horizon to the right, he is!" the man pointed. The other followed his line of sight and he too saw the distant figure. Then a second. "What do we do, Sarge?"

The sergeant scratched his head in thought. This job was usually so simple he thought to himself. "Well. I reckon we oughta' let 'em get in close enough to arrest eh?"

The other nodded in agreement, unsure of whether the idea was a good one.

So they waited as the figures drew in closer. Several minutes passed before they was near enough to examine in any detail. The first thing they noticed was that they were huge, beyond anything they had seen before in their little city. The second was the claymore and hammer upon their backs that dwarfed the swords in their own hands. They stood by resiliently however as he reined in his black stallion.

"Greetings, my name is Dradewen, and this is my father Dunawar. We are searching for a hobbit by the name o' Thomulus. Have any of you seen him?" he announced proudly as he noticed the intimidation their imposing size pressed upon them.

It took the sergeant nearly a minute to regain his voice and realize he was meant to reply according to procedure. He cleared his throat nervously. "What was that name again? Thomulus?" He looked to the guard beside him. "Ever heard of 'em?"

He shook his head. "Never. You said he was a hobbit?"

The Warrior nodded his helmed head. "Aye. No larger than a fat child."

"Well one of 'em did pass through not a half hour past. Said a wild man was after 'em he did."

Dradewen's eyebrows pushed together in a scowl. His dark eyes glinted hard beneath his raven hair. "Did he now?" The sight of the big man's anger sparked a new fear in the guards. "And do you believe him?"

They shook their heads in unison.

"Thought not. Well, I'll just be on my way inside then." He smiled exaggeratedly and made his way through the gate with a small wave.

The men looked at one another sheepishly then about for anyone who may have seen the incident. Content no one had been close enough to hear it recognize them personally, they turned from the gate and resumed their post just inside the walls.

They didn't see the shadow descend from the ramparts not ten feet away and disappear into the crowd.

***

Thom congratulated himself for his superb performance and decided he had earned a treat. A reward, he reasoned. He left Jiff hitched outside the little tavern and made his way inside.

Within was a small room with six tables and a bar adorned with empty mugs. The keeper looked up from his work wiping the oak down, and then continued polishing. The men at the tables paid him no heed and rambled on about their war stories and impossible feats of strength. Thom laughed inwardly at the inept boasting and knew he could easily dupe these rubes.

He ordered a pint of ale and sat himself in the center of the room where he could garner the most attention, completely assured that the guards had stopped the bounty hunter from entering.

With a deep gulp of liquid courage, he summoned his bravery and picked out the largest man in the room who told the most ridiculous stories and still kept the men at bay out of fear. Eyeing him, he caught the big man's attention.

"Ya' got a problem there, boy?" he growled. The man reeked of alcohol and had a surly look about his unshaven face. "Cause yer about to." He made no move to get up however and simply stared at the hobbit.

"Indeed, I do, sir. You see, I don't find your tales any more impressive than that of a child's."

The man gripped his mug so tightly that the glass shattered, spilling down his lap. He leapt in a rush of anger. "Look what ya did!" he roared and made his way toward Thom.

"Ah, relax. Here," He waved for the keeper and ordered him another mug. He needed him as drunk as possible. "All better eh?"

The man stared at him in disbelief. The little one's bravery unnerved him. He looked about at the others who were all waiting for the inevitable fight to break out. He contemplated it.

"Have a seat, and I shall tell you a real story of bravery and might!" Thom announced, and motioned for the man to sit. He did so hesitantly but saw no way it could harm him or his standing. If anything it left the hobbit within his reach. "There now. Where to begin? Ah, I know. The beginning.

"It was an ordinary day of running my shop a few towns down into Burleville, where I sell weapons and armor made by the dwarves. I had just set out my finest pieces, a mythril set of plate polished like the sun, when the shadow of a man appeared behind me. I turned and came face to face with the biggest Warrior I ever laid eyes on." Thom looked about and saw he had their undivided attention.

"He had arms bigger than my torso and stood over eight feet tall. I thought he was one of the giantfolk so I steps back and asks him what he wants with me. But he just looks at the armor and admires it, asking me the price. So I says to him that it's a small fortune and fit for a king. He tells me that's perfect as he is one, and will take them. Disbelieving him, I ask him his name and kingdom, and he tells me he that he is King Balin Heavyaxe of Dweanther to the south. Then he says he's never been beaten and won his title by challenge.

"So I asks him what kind of challenge. He says a test of strength, where two men grip a stave and wrestle to get one end to the ground and keep the other from getting theirs down. So I grab a heat-strengthened stave from my shop and challenge him for right of his royalty. This angers him and he growls acceptance." The men's eyes were wide as they listened, imagining the little one before them going toe-to-toe with a Warrior king. "We wrestled with it for over an hour, going back and forth. My height causing him to bend low, and his enormous hands giving me little room of my own, we were evenly matched. But he was getting on in years and I could see his tree trunk sized arms beginning to shake with strain. I pushed harder than ever, gritting my teeth so hard they're now flat, and drove my end to the ground.

"The king shouted in a rage and left without buying anything or giving me his crown. I accepted it without a grudge, for how could he have known of my strength? And I went back to work, knowing I was the rightful king to Burleville."

The men were dumbstruck with the story. Of course they didn't believe it one bit, but the alcohol clouded their judgment and multiplied the sureness of Thom's confidence.

But the big man across the table began to howl with laughter.

"You lie and you jest as poorly as a man without a brain or ears! I could crush you with one hand." The man jumped to his feet and swayed as the alcohol-soaked blood rose to his head. He sat back down to steady himself.

Thom smiled. "Then a test! Your one arm against.." He paused in a show of thought. "My one itsy bitsy teeny-tiny little finger!" and he raised his stubby index finger to the sky.

The men were leaning forward in their seats now, all of them riveted to the hobbit with gall that put them all to shame. Even the keeper who had heard thousands of tall tales throughout his life here was solely focused on the little thief. He took no stock of any who entered. Not even the man who had to duck his head to avoid hitting the ceiling's rafters.

"You've got a deal!" The man slammed his elbow onto the table and held his arm ready. Thom closed the man's fist and turned it with the back of the hairy hand facing him. Then with just his pointer finger, hooked it around the man's fist, and began to pull down.

The man's arm clenched tightly and muscle bulged as he fought the light tug. But unbeknownst to the men within the tavern, Thom had learned this trick years ago. The pendulum of the man's arm was at a poor fulcrum to pull against any weight for long. And less than a minute later, the man's knuckles were about to touch the table when Thom laughed.

"I am victorious." And he released the man's hand.

All the built up power of the man's pulling was suddenly uncontested by an opposing force and his fist slammed into his own face, blackening his eye and knocking him to the ground. The tavern erupted into a raucous of laughter as the men cried and slapped their knees at the sight.

Several complimentary ales were passed to Thom from those grateful for the laugh. He sipped it thankfully and shook many hands. "Thank you, gents, it's been a real pleasure." he dipped his head and toasted with his mug. "To the town of Delvin and its fine citizens!" All around they cheered and drank deeply.

Then the big man was up and grabbing at Thom with a ferocity only brought by drunk humility. His thick hand gripped the thief's shirt while the other reared back to strike him. Thom squeezed his eyes shut.

But the blow never came.

He opened them again and gasped. A hand that dwarfed the drunken man's swallowed it and snapped the wrist back with a loud crack. The man began to yell in pain when he was lifted off his feet by the other hand and choked.

"Silence, maggot. No one should have to endure the wailings of a poor loser." And with that, Dradewen slammed the man through the table which splintered beneath the weight and collapsed in pieces.

The room was dead silent, every man stunned with eyes wide and jaws dropped couldn't tear themselves away from the spectacle. The Warrior dusted off his hands and turned to Thom. "You are coming with me."

"Me? I'm thankful and all but I don't think I'll be needing any—"

"You have no choice in the matter, whelp. My father commands it."

Thom gulped nervously as he recognized Dradewen; having worked for his father several times in the past. "And he is?" he asked dumbly to waste time.

Dradewen stared down at the hobbit who was now quivering with fear. "Dunawar, Chief of the Bear Tribe and leader of the Heavywinter Clan. I believe you have something that belongs to him."

Thom waned and realized he had more people after his life than he could ever have anticipated. "I don't have it!" he squeaked.

"You lie." Dradewen gripped his collar and pulled him close. "Do not lie to me."

"I'm not, I swear, I'm not! The bounty hunter took it!"

The Warrior's face began to flush with his temper. He rubbed his temples slowly, calming himself. "Explain."

"He found me in Rusk and took me to Journ as well as the dagger. But I escaped and came here."

The enormous man shook his head slowly, raven hair brushing against his shoulders and sighed. "Where is he now?"

Thom wanted to scream in frustration but hid it carefully. "Should be at the gate or in the jail. I told the guards he was a wild bandit after me, I did." He tried to smile but was cowed to submission by the glare he received.

"This does not bode well for you if he is gone with it." Dradewen motioned for Thom to walk ahead of him, not bothering to tether him, and followed him to the door. "Do not try to run." he said simply but effectively.

The gigantic claymore upon his back was worth a thousand words.

Thom stepped through the door and waited obediently on the street a few feet away for an order of which direction to go. But when he turned around, he saw Dradewen crumple to the ground in a huge heap, his head bleeding just above the eye where a bruise was already swelling purple.

And as the Warrior fell, Outsider stepped out from behind him.
Chapter Ten: Reunions

Stepping through the crowd as easily as if the street was empty, Outsider led Thom through the throng of people with a knife to his back hidden by his cloak. He knew the Warrior wouldn't be out for long. All the while he muttered threats to the thief and assured him he would not escape. No one paid them any heed as they made their way through town until they reached the gate.

The guards recognized the hobbit and immediately noted the terrified look on his face. They stepped in front of the lowered drawbridge and unsheathed their weapons.

Outsider whispered into Thom's ear before letting him out of his grip. "If you run. I will kill you." He glanced at Jiff's reigns to ensure they were still strapped to Thom then stepped forward a ways and waited for the guards to speak.

Hesitant as always, the sergeant forgot protocol and waited for someone else to answer. The quick-minded bounty hunter noted the flustered look in his eye and took advantage.

"Are you in charge here?" he demanded of the man. The guard looked around then nodded. "It's about time someone showed up! My friend here was on his way to see me when some cut-rate bandit attacked him. What precautions are you taking for his safety?"

The tables suddenly turned, the sergeant shuffled his feet and looked to the others for help. Outsider interrupted before anything could be said.

"Nothing, that's what. So we're leaving to a place that will. You men should be ashamed of yourselves for allowing such insolence in your town. Come on, Rodge." He motioned for Thom to follow and together they walked past the sentries then through the gate.

He hurriedly untied Jiff from the hobbit and tossed him into the saddle. "I have had it with your hijinks, thief. Do not mistake my patience for acceptance or leniency. Remember, your price is equal dead or alive. Dead is easier even, but I hate to kill when unnecessary. However that does not mean I won't.

"You have tested me enough. To continue to do so will only leave me with failure in which my failing spells your death. So by seeing how far you can push me, you are actually pushing yourself off a cliff. Now, call me crazy, but that doesn't seem like the brightest thing to do. But hey, it's your call."

He swung into the saddle and pulled the gelding from the front gate. But as he turned away and into the open a multitude of things happened at once.

First, Dradewen appeared, beyond enraged and swinging about his claymore, meanwhile the guards, seeing him, decided to act against such 'wild men' and attempted to keep him from the rider. Then his father Dunawar, who had just ridden up and saw the commotion, quickly stormed the men to defend his son who had already felled three of the town's men without killing them. And last of all, but perhaps the most important, another rider crept in from the side, parallel to Outsider, and stared at him from beneath his hood; a mirror image.

"It can't be." Outsider whispered, barely a breath. The hooded rider pulled back its cloak and scowled so viciously that Thom actually flinched. A dark elf stared back at them, with angular features so sharp he looked like a black eagle turned humanoid. His eyes were a deep burgundy and his hair cropped short with a dusty, copper color like aged blood; skin as black as night.

"Oh, but it is." the dark elf replied and smiled a wicked grin as he pulled a long bladed dirk from his boot and watched its reflection. "You know why I've come, Outsider."

"Let me guess. Revenge for leaving Duskenbaijan and forsaking the ways of our people." he said, not really a question.

The dark elf laughed a high pitched keening sound like someone in pain. "Do not think yourself so worthy of such attention. While it is true you are a traitor guilty of treachery and I shall kill you for it, you did not betray me, for I never trusted you." His eyes narrowed as he smiled even wider. "No, I am here for the hobbit."

Outsider sighed and turned back to Thom. "Would you like to go with him? I promise you he isn't nearly as much fun as I am."

Thom recoiled from the thought. "Why the devil would I go anywhere with a bloody dark elf!" he exclaimed fearfully.

The dark elf laughed again and the rider imagined someone suffering. "It would seem he knows very little of you, old friend." he sneered. "Enlighten him would you, his choosing me over you could very well speed up this process."

Outsider drew back his hood and heard the air leave Thom's lungs as he fell backward off the horse with a thud. "You..you're..you're one of them!" He pointed with a stubby finger. "Stay back you demon worshipping monster!"

At that, the bounty hunters both frowned. But Outsider was quickest to react. He leapt from the saddle and scooped up the thief as a dirk buried itself in the wall behind him. He tossed Thom into the outer stables and locked the door with a deadbolt.

'If you want him, you go through me." he stated resolutely and held his arms out at his sides, cloak billowing in the wind. "And I assure you, Blaine, it is much harder than it sounds."

Blaine dropped from his horse and with a flourish, crouched low, spun on his heel, and then watched as two shuriken soared right at Outsider's chest. "Sure it is." he muttered low, confident it was already over.

Then faster than the eye could follow, two knives appeared in Outsider's hands and cast the shuriken aside harmlessly then were launched at Blaine who leapt to the side to dodge them. But as he landed with a roll, Outsider pulled the dirk from the wall and flicked it at him. He noticed it just in time to lean away and receive its bite in the leg instead of the stomach.

Blaine grimaced and removed his own weapon from his thigh. "You've gotten better since last we battled in the Shadowverse."

Outsider stepped forward, closing the gap, as emotionless as ever. His face was passive even in the heat of battle. "I have learned more than you will ever know. Especially if you continue to attack me, for I will kill you here and now before you ever get the chance."

Blaine's smile faltered for a second then quickly recovered. "And who would teach you up here in this world that hates us for those we were born to?"

"A kindred spirit who realized too, that it is more than who our ancestors are, but what they did, that marks us as evil. Their wicked ways." Outsider's eyes bore into his old rival. "Wicked ways you still follow."

Blaine stood then and ignored the blood that freely ran down into his boot. "Do not go all righteous on me, Outsider! I have seen your dark side. I remember when you slaughtered your own mentor and abandoned your home and family to die!"

"He betrayed my parents and had them killed when they left to the surface! You and your brood are no family of mine."

"That's right, Outsider, the half-breed monstrosity; for you are exactly that: alone, with no family."

The daggers were in his hands and against Blaine's throat before he even thought to draw them. Only his eyes burned with the intensity of what he felt. "My family is waiting for me in the afterlife."

Blaine's eyebrows rose in confusion

"They are the reason I can kill you as easily as a spider does a fly," The blades returned to their sheaths in the same movement he threw the dark elf to the ground. "And the reason I do not. Leave this place Blaine and pray you do not cross paths with me again." Then he stomped on the wound upon his leg.

Outsider turned from him, knowing full well they would meet again, and too soon.

Blaine's eyes were still blinded by Darkbane and his leg seared with a white hot pain. He lay still for several minutes, listening to the battle of the guards and Warriors, and gauged who was winning by the war cries to Valhus; their god of battle. As the pain receded and his eyes once again became capable of focusing, he stood up slowly. "You haven't heard the last of me, old friend." Blaine whispered and limped away to where he had left his horse, only to see Outsider riding away on it, Thom behind him on Jiff.

Dradewen and Dunawar continued fighting as they swapped their discoveries.

"The cloaked man has the dagger and attacked me from behind! He has taken the hobbit!"

Dunawar cursed their misfortune. "He will pay for interfering and striking my son. By Valhus, I swear it."

The Warriors, having repelled the force of guards, saw the wounded bounty hunter nearby and gave chase. The guards; too dumbstruck to realize why they had been fighting in the first place decided to retrieve their wounded and made their way inside before closing the gate behind them.

The hulking fighters descended upon the dark elf and threw him across the ground disdainfully. "Where is the rider, dark elf?" the chief spat. The hate in his eyes was all too obvious for Blaine, igniting his mutual feelings for the humans.

"Gone, and to be here long after your short-lived race has up and died!"

The axe struck out at the dark elf but never connected. Inksmoke dropped upon them, deeper than the darkest black, and Blaine vanished before they found their way out of it.

The Warriors backed away from the cloud of black and glared as it dissipated.

"Where to now, father?" Dradewen asked, wary of his father's temper. He laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "When we find them, we shall make them cry out to Valhus in their own tongue for mercy."

Dunawar's malicious grin was his only reply.

In the distance, another rider followed the hobbit and elf from afar, trying to gain on them.
Chapter Eleven: Pleasantries

Campfire crackling soundly within the barn, Outsider's spirits began to settle. He watched the flames dance about within the pit he had dug and lost himself within the trance he called sleep. The fire stretched out before him until it was all he could see, then escalated to pure white surrounded by the most serene midnight. This light had no effect on his eyes however.

They were the stars he wished to live under without fear. Fear of being different and discriminated against. The fear that he would never be allowed to live in peace with friend or family alike.

Blaine's words tormented him with the truth they rang with.

He shifted in his waking dreams and opened his eyes. Thom was sitting across from him, wide awake with his arms wrapped around his knees, chin resting on them. He watched the bounty hunter sit up and cringed.

"Something on your mind?" Outsider muttered as he took a swig of water from his wineskin. "Or do you always stare at other men as they sleep?"

The hobbit ignored the comment and shook his head. He had hardly spoken since Blaine's arrival and what little he did say was always curt and polite.

The elf eyed him a moment then got up and threw another log into the fire. The heat spread its toasty embrace with a plume of smoke and kept the night's chill at bay. Winter had quickly returned in the tenday since they had left Delvin and nearly caught them unaware.

They had to make a stop into a small village the day before and traded a freshly shot deer for several pounds of equipment and a set of fur-lined cloaks. Thom had even managed to swipe a small book of matches.

Outsider moved closer to the fire as the indefinite cold ran down his back and through his tunic. His cloak was hanging in the corner of the room so the noxious fumes from the black dye wouldn't reach their noses. Thom huddled deeper into his emerald cape and continued to watch the bounty hunter across from him.

Only the crisp fire's popping and the northern wind's howling filled in the silence.

"I miss home." the hobbit sighed.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you started stealing."

The thief's eyebrows furrowed angrily. "I didn't start by choice! It was necessity. I couldn't let my family starve. My sister was so sick...I didn't even think about it. I just grabbed the loaf and ran."

The pervading silence ensued again.

"I got her plenty of food each day by pickpocketing, stealing from the vendors, or even burglarizing. But it wasn't enough. She needed medicine. And on my way to get some, I was caught trying to pick the lock. They threw me in jail for a year. By the time I got out, she had passed. And my mother as well."

A hard line appeared in his soft, round features. "I never forgave them. I took whatever I needed and when I got good at that, whatever I wanted. She couldn't get what was necessary for basic survival, so I would live enough for the both of us. But word travels quickly, and hobbits aren't so common in these parts. Life got hard again.." he trailed off.

Outsider nodded in silence, agreeing with the hobbit and for the first time in the month since he had caught him, saw Thom as a person.

The large door to the barn opened ajar with a loud and droning creak of the frosted hinges. On reflex, Outsider poured his waterskin over the fire, and leapt away into the darkness. Thom just curled up in his cape and lay still.

A small figure entered slowly, axe drawn, and looked about the room. Outsider's dark vision caught him and recognized the bearded face.

I don't believe it.

"Merlon, you've found us at last!" He stepped from the shadows and rekindled the fire for a moment and breathed life into it. New flames shot up from the embers and illuminated the little room. "Please, sit with us for a spell and warm the chill from your bones."

Merlon's eyes narrowed and his axe was on the move. Outsider barely had time to duck his head to the side as the handle caught him. He fell from his seat on a log and lay there stunned, not expecting the timid dwarf to attack him so suddenly. Even Thom who had watched the whole thing couldn't understand it.

The last time he had seen the dwarf, he was helping Outsider fight off the wolves and save his life.

"Ye' lying scum! I'll gut ye' for stealing me money and makin' off without me!" he threatened and pulled the large axion from its sling on his back. He whirled it around with a whir and grinned beneath his bushy beard. "Let's see ye' make a fool o me now, elf!"

He throttled forward on his powerful, stubby legs and brought the axion down with his full might. It buried into the log Outsider kicked at him and split it clean in half. "Come on ye' twiggy, sneak! Take a swing at me and try yer chances."

Outsider's knives jumped to his hands and deflected several heavy handed blows, each time sending a jar up his arms that steadily numbed his fingers. He retaliated with a kick that caught the dwarf in the chest but succeeded in moving him less than a single step back.

"I thought we were friends, Merlon! You aided me against the wolves and to find my sick friend!" He held his hands up unthreateningly. "Don't you remember?"

"Oh I remember alright. Ye' aint got a sick friend. He be your prisoner he is! And ye' aint named Aegis either, are ye', Outsider?" His face sneered in victory. "So tell me then, bounty hunter, who are ye'? Or I'll bash and cut ye' into pieces too small for the animals to eat!"

The axion glinted in the firelight. Outsider had seen the large weapons before but had never fought against one. They were metal staffs with an axe head on each end facing opposite directions; similar to a Z. They were an issue for him as battling the heavy blades called for small retaliatory strikes between the slow swings, but the long handle that held the heavy heads created distance that was hard to cover between the tremendously powerful attacks.

"And they say chivalry is dead." Outsider laughed halfheartedly and sheathed his knives. "My name is Outsider, and I am a bounty hunter. This is Thom," He motioned to the halfling who was still hiding within the warm confines of his cape. "A thief with quite the price on his head in Cain Sander. Your money is here," He tossed Merlon the pouch. "And I did not cause any of the disappearances in your town."

The dwarf slipped the pouch onto his belt and nodded curtly. "That's fine an' all. But this aint good enough."

"You have exactly what you had before!"

"Nonsense! Not a single soul remains; me whole town is gone! And all the ale too."

"What and that is a fault of mine?"

"Nay, but ye will be helpin' me."

The confident grin on Merlon's face spoke of danger to the bounty hunter. Something he knew was apparently of dire enough importance to obligate his servitude.

"You know what's coming next." Outsider stated flatly.

The dwarf chuckled and tapped the side of his wide nose with a gloved finger. "Do we have an accord then?"

Outsider sighed and shook his hand. "Agreed. I suppose I have no choice." He turned away from the dwarf who grabbed himself a seat around the fire. "I fear I will never reach Cain Sander or feel the weight of gold in my pocket."

Merlon laughed and slapped his belly, axion at his side, then motioned for him to sit. "Just relax for tonight. Ye' be needin' it. A force be comin' tomorrow it is."

Outsider sat down just as Thom sat up. His voice wavered with each syllable. "What kind of force, eh?"

The dwarf's face turned somber and the firelight threw deep shadows across the lines and wrinkles on his face. His eyes seemed sullen and sunken in. "Saw a whole pack of orcs makin' their way past Journ not three days past I did. At least thirty. And on me way through Delvin, word was spreadin' like wildfire of a troop o Warriors searchin' for ye'. And one of 'em is the chief."

He looked about the little camp, leaning left and right on his log as the others mulled over what he said in silent thought. "Ye' got anythin' to eat? I been wanderin' 'round for two days tryin' to find and tell ye'. It seems the further from Journ I got, the clearer me mind became till I could remember everythin' that happened. Including you and your aura." He nodded at the elf.

Outsider was unaccustomed to being thought of in any sort of positive way and merely turned his head away embarrassed. "I can honestly say it didn't feel right taking your money. I'm no thief."

"Well shucks, I'll take it." Thom piped in. Merlon laughed and slapped the hobbit on the back, sending him to the ground. But the dwarf was too busy guffawing to notice.

"I like this 'un." he noted. Thom sat back up and wiped the hay from his cape. Merlon grinned as a small pot of stew was prepared. "Ah, nothin' like a hot meal on a cold night."

Outsider shot him a sideways glance as he stripped the beef and potatoes. "You are enjoying this entirely too much, Merlon. You sure your mind's recovered?"

The dwarf nodded slowly. "Aye, that town be cursed with somethin' evil. I know yer kind is learned on that type o thing so I knew I had to ask ye' for help. Me mind is just out of ideas...ye' think it could be demons? Or maybe ghosts like everyone says?"

"I don't remember being asked." Outsider said stoically as he slid the vegetables into the water with the meat. Slowly the succulent aroma of stew wafted to each of their noses, bubbling and simmering over the fire. "And I'm not sure. Too many options to try and guess."

"Well least this way is fair." Merlon reasoned as he stared at the pot.

Outsider merely grunted in reply, all too aware of the tactic. He himself had used it numerous times throughout the years to blackmail someone into some sort of assistance, whether it be an extra hand or an extra handful of gold.

"Listen, I'll help ye' deal with the vermin and get this 'un to Cain Sander if ye' keep yer word to help me find me people."

Outsider nodded, not one to miss when a deal was leaning one way or the other. The mystery force could be something terrible, and by what he had sensed back in Journ, it very well might be. But facing any large number of orcs alone was suicide.

"Well let's get everything sorted out while this cooks. When do you expect they'll arrive?"

Merlon's forehead creased with frown lines as he stroked his beard, contemplating the question and taking the numbers into account with the speed and distance. "I'd say no more 'an three days. They be cuttin' past the towns to stay out of sight and goin' straight through wood and hill alike. And them orcs can run when they need to. They know yer headin' west, so they aim to get there first and I'd bet me axe they'll try an' cut ye' off at the mountain pass. Any other way 'round will take months."

Outsider found another log to sit on as his had been cleaved in half, and sat near the fire. "Is there no way of outrunning them? With a force that size they have to be slower than the three of us."

Already the dwarf was shaking his head. "They'll just keep followin' ye'. All the way across the mountains. Orcs don't forget when they've been wronged, and ye' must've done somethin' pretty bad to get 'em all riled up like this."

Thom grimaced and wanted to scream. Already he could feel his stomach gnawing at him with anxiety. He was just a small town thief, meant to be around people with lives that don't involve war and murder.

"How did I get myself caught up in this mess?" he asked distressed and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair.

The elf bounty hunter caught his eye. "You started this mess you fool!" he exclaimed. "We wouldn't have been there for the orcs to find if I hadn't had to come apprehend you for stealing. And the Warriors just want their blade back."

"What blade that be?" the dwarf asked, intrigued. His eyes widened as his hands closed around the beautiful dagger. He drew it slowly; eyes closed, and listened to the steel ring as it slid free. "A masterfully made weapon. mythril blade, with a flawless sapphire aged within an air-tight mold for that clouded effect." He felt around it with his fingers, even sliding off his thick gloves. "Ebony handle, carved from an elder tree it is. And the runes be of an ancient tongue once sung in all the halls. It says:

"'May all dark elf who see this blade,

Shy away from the light,

So the final debt they are paid,

Be death this very night.'"

He handed it back to Outsider within its sheath. "That blade be worth a fortune it is. I can't deny I myself would question returnin' it. 'Specially to some Warrior. They throw their rages and fits and just bang up their weapons. No regard for them! They can fight sure, but that blade be needin' hands with a more...delicate touch." he laughed. "Whatever ye' choose, guard it well, elf. It be coveted by those who hate yer kind, and hated by those who covet yer kind.

"Either way, ye' won't be makin' any friends if someone recognizes it."

Outsider nodded his understanding and returned it to its hiding place beneath his underarm. Carefully concealed within his cloak, his hands lifted the pot's lid, which was actually a shoulder plate stomped flat, and they all relaxed as the sweet fragrance of beef stew filled their nostrils.

They ate in a ravenous manner, depleting the entire pot over conversation, ensuring that in the next few days when battle came they would be able to trust the man beside him.

"Who are you?" Thom asked suddenly, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. The questions had been burning within his mind for days. He had buried them as best he could but every morning he found them in a grave that grew more and more shallow. Merlon, too, watched Outsider with interest.

"Outsider, bounty hunter, at your service."

"Fine. Where are you from? What's your story?"

"I don't tell such information to contracts." he hissed. "Especially not those who try to kill me."

Thom shook his little head. "I didn't want to! Something just took over me like the cold drowns a fire! I can't explain it...but I am sorry. This life of stealing is never something I wanted."

The elf went silent then. His face was hidden beneath his hood as always, even revealing himself to those who knew of his race was so uncomfortable it bordered on unbearable. But the light in the hobbits eyes was an honest one. And he could not deny the thirst for knowledge as he had yet to quench it himself.

Not fully understanding why, perhaps it was the fact he hadn't tried to run or kill him after learning his race, he had found a new light of trust within Thom's young face and decided to test it. Merlon nodded politely to reinforce Outsider's new judgement.

He took a deep breath. "I'm from a small farming town I do not know the name of. All I can tell you of it is the grass there grew golden, and the sun was always shining. Yet the smell of honey in the air is what you would remember most." Outsider's vision was long gone now, his mind a world away.

Thom leaned forward slightly to hear him as his voice grew quiet.

"However, I grew up in Duskenbaijan, a dark elf city in an alternate dimension called the Shadowverse; many, many miles away from here. I was taken from my home just after my second birthday. They killed my mother, a forest elf...I know not her name...and took me back to my 'rightful home'." His voice mocked the supreme air that was soaked into the memory. "My father, a dark elf, who was forced to fight just as I was, refused to strike another living being and his mercy was quickly taken advantage of.

"Not long after, the cruel dark elf that killed him; a gladiator by the name of Dren was anointed my combat instructor. He was once a great fighter before he let the drink consume his life. He trained me in the ways of battle from the age of two to fifteen, forcing me into gladiator matches against beast and dark elf alike. And for all of those miserable years he let me know it was he who told the Baron of my father's betrayal in which he set free the forest elf slave who became his wife and my mother, and their flight to the surface. That it was he responsible for my mother's torture and execution."

Thom couldn't look Outsider in the eye as he revealed such despair, though his face hidden in the shadows as it was still betrayed no emotion. A statue.

"The night after I lost someone, I stole into his quarters as he drank. And I challenged his prowess; telling him I was done obeying him. He laughed and said I didn't have what it took to kill him. So I slit the drunk's throat and threw him from his window without a second thought.

"It took me nearly a year to find my way out. But I had spent my entire life at that point planning for my escape, and had narrowly managed to steal a few maps detailing different regions below the surface. As frightening as it was there in the dark wilderness, it was nothing compared to the city. Every day was a new sacrifice here or a string of political murders there...the crazed zealots."

He went quiet then, running over his complicated past to smooth sharp edges that could still hurt.

Thom was entranced. His mind filled with wondrous visions of blackened towns and cities bustling with the dark skinned people. "What happened when you got out?" he blurted out much louder than he meant to. His voice echoed in the near empty barn.

"I left."

"And?" The hobbit demanded exasperatedly.

Outsider frowned slightly, his memories of that time a blur. Even his most joyful day, the day he saw the moon again and breathed in fresh air, was all but lost to him.

"Well. I spent the first few months just getting used to the light again; travelling from town to town in the hopes of finding my home. But I never did. Instead I was met with hate and racism as expected. I separated myself from society. Always watching from just outside, I find my name is quite suitable.

"I did this for a few months until I chanced upon a fellow dark elf. We agreed not to share names, as our lives were dangerous enough as it was, and instead told only of our past and deeds. He had escaped from his dark city a lifetime earlier, and reveled in the light of good. He taught me that I wasn't evil just because our race was; that I could do whatever I wanted and would find those willing to help. He showed me the compassion and empathy that I had lost long ago. And he made me a warrior to be reckoned with." A hard light shone in his deep gray eyes.

"Did you ever learn his name?" Thom pondered.

"No, he was a very private individual. And I do not blame him in the slightest. But he taught me more than I would ever need. He made me something more than a monster. I had lived in the wilderness since my escape, and taken on such a life; one he knew plenty of as well. He passed on more than just techniques to kill."

"Where is he now?"

Outsider's eyes blinked several times as his mind returned to the present. He coughed and took another drink. "I know not. We adventured together for two years or so, and then we parted ways. I haven't heard nor seen from him since. But his title of Mentor, as I called him, will always remain. That and the fire that burned in his eyes like the wrath of the Nine Hells in battle or when someone was in need."

Embarrassed and feeling exposed, Outsider cleared his throat and hurriedly changed the subject.

"How did you learn my name and job anyway?" Outsider asked as he laid his empty bowl aside and rested against his log.

Merlon was on his third bowl and showed no sign of stopping. He slurped up another spoonful then tossed it aside and drank the rest straight. "Heard some cloaked fella' talkin' 'bout ye'." He answered between mouthfuls. "Even said what yer heritage is."

The gray eyes closed. Once again, something from his past had returned to fill him with regret and shame. "Blaine; another dark elf. He and I were of the same clan and grew up together."

"An ol' friend?"

"Not at all. More of rivals." He slipped back his cowl and pointed to the scar that lined his face. "He gave me this with the tip of a sword in a match between him and his brother, two on one."

The dwarf's frown returned. "Unfair odds that be."

Outsider smiled grimly. "For them. I slew his brother and took Blaine's right hand." His hand clenched and unclenched reflexively as he remembered the ringing strikes of steel on steel. The showers of sparks that illuminated the dark arena behind the manor. "He's had it healed now of course, but he always remembered that defeat and the hate that comes with it."

Thom snored peacefully nearby and shifted in his sleep. He rolled over and pulled his cape tighter about him. His little body rose and lowered as his slow breathing confirmed his deep slumber.

"The little one sleeps as if an innocent. Nothing to trouble his mind an' keep 'em awake." Merlon observed with envy. He hadn't slept in days, finding his dreams to be a gateway to the growing insanity that had corrupted him for nearly two months. "I don't think he's all bad, bounty hunter. He seems lost."

Outsider nodded. "I agree. He's only fifteen. Hardly a boy by virtually any race's standard."

"Aye, though I doubt yer over fifteen yerself; yer aura's too bright. They usually dim as age creeps in. But for Thom, I think it best to let time test 'em and his mettle I think."

"I don't know my birthday; the general estimate would put me around twenty, but living in the Shadowverse, I've fought and trained nearly my entire life. It ages you." He smirked. "You ought to know that by now old dwarf."

The dwarf yawned resignedly and laid himself out on a bedding of straw, waving away the remark then wrapping his arms together. "Well either way, this winter is goin' to be a tough 'un. I hope yer prepared." And with that he fell into a dreamless sleep as soon as his eyes closed, confident in his company's honor.

Just as he had predicted, the storm outside grew fierce, and before long they were all asleep around the fire which had been given plenty of wood to keep it going the night through. Even Outsider took this time for an extended trance to sharpen his mind and brave the coming forces. His eyes slowly opened as he became aware of the storm outside pounding against the barn.

"If the orcs and Warriors don't kill us, the weather will."

And he listened from inside his thoughts to the howling wind of the north; mourning the battle to come.
Chapter Twelve: Stormfront

Snow drifted in wildly in solid sheets of pressing wind, colliding into the orcs as they charged on through the night. The horses had fallen behind long ago and remained there, no more than snowy hillocks. No, this advance will be purely driven by the strength of their own two legs. Those too weak to keep up would be forgotten and left to freeze. And those who kept pace would be fierce, and capable of destroying any who got in their way of revenge.

Cleave Rend smiled at the thought inwardly, his skull incapable of expressing such emotion. He pressed on in a constant throttle unhindered by the roaring snow that had filled his empty eye sockets and frosted over the heatless bone. He looked side to side at the warriors beside and behind him.

Battling the weather, they carried the icy burden that weighed them down heavily and burned their flesh like fire. But not a single orc had dared fall behind. They had spent their whole lives in the north and survived the perilous winters for over two decades, some of them three.

And so they trudged on in the knee deep white, ignoring the stinging pains and ghostly numb that gradually pervaded their calloused hides, heads down from the icy gales.

"They're doing well!" Ulgvhen called over the storm. His wounds had frozen shut in coagulated stains and his nose had swollen purple between his black eyes. "We should make the pass in two days!"

Cleave Rend acknowledged the validity of the statement, but still held his brother responsible for letting their prey escape. He had held all the advantages against the cloaked one.

"If I wish to hear your opinion, I will ask."

Ulgvhen took the insult as some indication he had done wrong and slowed until he was several feet behind the automaton before him. Deep within his chest he felt guilt rooted in the fact that he had somehow let his brother down. That he should have somehow separated Uvrikh from their father's cursed axe.

He could clearly remember the terrified look in his brother's eyes the first time he held the legendary weapon. The memory screamed in his ears and burned his nostrils. The coarse hair that covered his arms stood on end then was flattened by the unstoppable flurries.

He shook his head and spat out the snow that accumulated in his mouth and not for the first time considered grinding down his boar fangs.

"Ulgvhen?" a coarse voice asked from his right. He followed it to the source; head still lowered, and made eye contact with the orc who called his name. "We've been talking." He looked up at the dark form of Cleave Rend reluctantly. "We're worried he's gone mad."

Ulgvhen realized the danger they were in discussing this, especially around so many ears. But he was their Elite, and was curious to know their thoughts.

"The storm is loud, Ulvet, speak your mind."

The orc nodded thankfully and cast his eyes about at the others who knew their conversation. Ulgvhen noted the grateful glances he was shot. "It's just the chief has us doing all this for one human. It's.." The orc struggled to find the word he was looking for.

"Excessive." Ulgvhen finished for him. He motioned to continue with a wave of his hand.

"We think he's lost his mind to that axe. And maybe you would--"

Ulgvhen cut him off. "You boys have been thinking of mutiny? What would you have me do then? Lop off my brother's head and take the axe for myself?"

Ulvet's eyes sought the ground and the others who had been listening avoided him as well. Ulgvhen was their best hope at getting somewhere in this tribe, and if he wasn't willing to help them then they would have to wait and see.

The orc beta looked about in the wild wind and saw the morale had dropped significantly. He knew their loads were heavy enough without such a burden as low spirits.

"I'll take it on my own shoulders." he grumbled as the responsibility once again fell to him. "Relax, boys." he called over the howling. "We'll be there before you know it and everything will work itself out!"

The others cast glances at one another and nodded.

Things were moving forward whether the elites knew it or not.

"Ulgvhen," the voice like Hell called. "A word."

He stepped forward, raising his legs nearly to his chest to plow through the snow that was waist high now. He shook away all nervousness, fully aware that if Cleave Rend had heard his conversation there was nothing he could do anyway. He came up beside him and reported in.

"Chief?"

The skull turned slowly, as if watching something walk by, to face him. It didn't slow its pace in the slightest.

"It has come to my attention that some of the men are unhappy."

The statement hung unopposed or claimed in the air. The orc stared back at the skull unwaveringly and waited for it to speak, for he would not break the silence. It was then he realized that he felt the 'chief' was no longer an orc and that he would protect his men from it if he must.

The men threw worried looks back and forth as the silence pressed on for several tense minutes, neither elite looking away nor blinking. At last the skull turned away slowly and looked straight ahead.

"Do whatever you think is necessary to keep them loyal." it graveled.

Ulgvhen nodded and continued his trudge alongside it, completely unaware that the skull was smiling.
Chapter Thirteen: White Night

Dradewen lingered by the window, watching the icy fingers of winter intertwine around the town of Delvin with an unbreakable grip. Icicles hung from the frame like bars reminding how much he felt like a prisoner stuck within the tower, unable to leave. His father didn't deal with the waiting as well and paced about in circles for so long he thought he would soon be walking on the bottom floor.

"When this storm let's up, I will thrash that little worm within an inch of his life and then make him watch as that dagger he stole is slowly slid into his gut!" Dunawar roared and banged his fist on the nearby table causing it to shudder and spill the mugs of ale upon it. "Welter, get in here and clean this up!"

Without a second's hesitation the servant appeared through the door with a rag and wiped it up then disappeared with the mugs a moment later.

"But how are we going to find him?" Dradewen still stared out the window, wiping away the fog from his breath every so often. "This blizzard will have obliterated any traces of his trail."

The Warrior chief shook his head angrily. "I am fully aware of this, Dradewen. You would do well not to question my intelligence. Especially on such obvious matters." his voice murmured, more dangerous than when he was yelling. "We will find him, have no doubt. Valhus will guide my axe straight to his heart."

Welter returned then and sat down a platter of freshly roasted mutton and buttered rolls alongside new mugs of ale. He vanished before either took notice of him.

The Warrior chief thrust his knife into the roast and skipped the plate altogether, stuffing the succulent beef into his maw. Chunks of gristle spilled down his chin as he spoke with his mouth full. "How far could he have gotten in such weather? Only a fool would have tried to set out far. He's probably slipped back into town or just outside in a village."

Dradewen merely shrugged. Honestly, he cared not to punish the man. Even with what little of the battle he was able to see between the two hooded men he could note the man's combat prowess. He wanted to meet the man, to speak to a great warrior from such a different life and test his mettle against such a foe.

"And if he isn't?"

Dunawar looked up confused, his mind occupied by the food. "Isn't wha'?"

"If he isn't nearby? Say he managed to find a traveler with a wagon pulled by steeds fast enough to get to the pass?" Dradewen prompted. "What then?"

"Then I will return home empty handed and be made a fool by a single man." He took another bite. "And you know I won't let that happen."

Dradewen went silent then as he watched the weather turn the sunless black gray until he was watching a white night glisten from the highest view in town. If anyone unfortunate enough to be outside at that moment had looked up at the guard tower they would have seen only a pair of dark eyes staring back through the snow drifting to the ground.

He remained stationary as the door creaked open behind him. Welter stepped inside, his eyes glued to the floor, arms behind his back. "Pardon the intrusion, Chief Dunawar, but your presence has been requested."

The chief looked up from his gorging. Food smeared his cheeks and chin and grease ran from his fingertips to his elbows. "Who?" he demanded. If there was one thing he hated more than being robbed, it was being interrupted.

"Apologies sir, I know not. He didn't say."

Dradewen stiffened as he could sense his father's temper beginning to rise. He could picture the blood rising in his face until he looked like a cherry ready to pop, his arms beginning to swell with veins and knuckles white with the strain in which they gripped whatever was in his hand.

The rattle of a bent fork clattered on the ground.

"And you had the audacity to bring such a matter to my attention? I care not for strangers too insignificant not to have a title or name worth announcing. Tell him to be gone before my axe welcomes him!" he roared and jumped up so fast his chair fell backwards.

Welter scrambled for the door, tripping on the way through. The room fell into an awkward hush as they listened to the little man stumble through the next room. The low murmur of voices dulled by stone walls reverberated deeply.

The young Warrior shut his eyes and laid his head against the ice cold glass. His mind ventured leagues away across the plains to a veranda of hills plastered white with scintillating frost. Deer ran free and darted away at his thunderous approach, hammer blasting apart tree and stone alike that stood in his wake until he came face to face with a mountain, its immense size towering into the skies so high he couldn't see the peaks. He roared to Valhus and brought his warhammer down against the base with a cry that shook leaves from trees, a shower or granite raining on him as the mountain shattered into millions of millions pieces in a soundless explosion of force.

He turned away resignedly as the door opened again.

"The name is Blaine of Duskenbaijan, bounty hunter." the voice cooed alluringly, a smooth tone that dripped with a sense of entitlement.

A voice that didn't belong to Welter.

Dradewen opened his eyes and felt them reach his forehead as a dark elf stood at the door, black leather armor beneath a purple cloak. The face seemed set in a permanent sneer with rat-like features and beady black eyes. He realized this was the one who disappeared into the blackness before and eyed his claymore across the room.

But the dark elf was watching the chief eat with such a ravenous manner he hadn't even looked up or noticed the different voice. Blaine crossed his arms and leaned against the wall patiently. He placed a finger to his lips with a pointed look at Dradewen and resumed waiting.

His façade of manners quickly faded.

"Has he always been like this? Or has he just gotten fat and daft with old age?"

Dunawar jumped at that and took an involuntary step backward when he saw the stranger before him.

"How dare you come here, fiend!" he bellowed and reached for his axe. A dirk whistled through the air and stuck in the mortar between the bricks, an inch from his outstretched fingers.

"Not a good idea, oaf." he spat. "Now back away from it lest you prefer a blade in your eye."

Dunawar remained where he was unflinchingly as Blaine stared at him. "You gonna stare at me all day or are you gonna speak you, evil little disgrace?"

The knife was spinning through the air not a second later and was caught in the Warrior's hand the next.

The two fighters remained still, both gauging the other's reaction.

"Listen, you--" Dradewen began.

"My business is not with you, boy. But your father." Blaine hissed. "You seek the hobbit and his captor do you not?"

The Warrior chief strode forward; chin raised high and chest thrust out. "Perhaps. What concern is it of yours?"

Blaine smiled wickedly. "I can help you find him. Word has reached me that a tribe of orcs, thirty strong, are making their way to the mountain pass as we speak."

The Warriors exchanged an incredulous look.

"But that storm. It's death raining from the sky. No orc would willingly go through such a trial."

"And to what end?" Dradewen chimed in.

Blaine smiled and pulled up a chair. Using his dagger he speared himself a slice of mutton and took small bites of it. "This is good." he mused. "Definitely high quality stuff."

Dunawar threw the dirk into the table with a thunk! "Enough games, sneak thief! What do you want? Speak quickly for my patience wears thin."

Blaine smiled and laughed. Dradewen imagined someone in pain at the wheezing sound. "Very well." He took one last bite and slid his chair back with a loud grating then leaned back with his feet on the table. His arms folded behind his head. "The man you seek. His name is Outsider, and he and I have a...strenuous. Relationship. You see, I have fought with him several times as we grew up and marked him my enemy with a scar across his face in exchange for him killing my brother."

At this Dradewen's eyes found his father's as big around as saucers.

"You grew up together?"

Blaine nodded.

"He is like you?"

"Well of course he is a bounty hunter, you knew that." he teased.

Dunawar's scowl lined his face with wrinkles. "He is a dark elf?"

Blaine put on a mask of mock confusion. "Oh, that's what you meant." He shook his head. "Silly me. Yes, he is a dark elf; well half to be exact...And one to be reckoned with. He has been trained for years in the art of combat.

"Nearly as long as you've been alive, boy." he added, looking into Dradewen's young face. "He is taking the little thief to Cain Sander, where a bounty of a thousand gold cents has been placed on his head."

Dunawar resumed his seat, axe in hand, and pushed his plate aside. "Welter, bring me some parchment and ink!"

Blain sucked air in between his teeth. "Oh, about that. It pains me terribly to tell you this, but he won't be serving you anymore. Or anyone for that matter." He picked a piece of mutton from his teeth with his knife absentmindedly.

"Dradewen, fetch it for me." Dunawar ordered with a wave of his hand.

He did as he was told and left the room to get the supplies. As soon as he left the room, Blaine set his feet down and strode across the room then shut the door.

"This matter is a private one I think you'll find." he smirked.

Dunawar stared at him resolutely and shrugged.

Dradewen returned and found the door locked. He knocked on it and his father replied for him to wait.

His first instinct was to bust it down with a single kick, but he steadied himself. Bursting in when he wasn't wanted was something he had been severely punished for too many times as a child to do again. He held his ear to the door but heard only silence; not even the murmur of voices as before. Then he noticed the door was warm to the touch.

"Fire?" He dropped to the floor flat on his belly; his thick arms of corded muscle lowering him down easily. But he saw no light from beneath the door.

In fact, he didn't see anything. It was pure darkness within the room; something he could think of no reason to justify. He leapt to his feet and sent the door clear off its hinges with a single kick.

Within the room sat his father and Blaine, across the table from one another, staring up at him with the same blank stare of surprise. The dark elf quickly composed himself, and rolled up a length of parchment then tucked it within his cloak. He pushed his chair out and stood.

"Glad we got that settled. A pleasure doing business with you."

And he strode out of the room after releasing his secrecy spell; a wicked smile growing across his face as he heard the hollering and commotion between the Warriors behind him.

***

As he made his way through the winding alleys of Delvin, Blaine pulled his cloak tighter about him and shivered. Snow fell from his shoulders as he turned an abrupt corner into the shadows.

Another figure stepped through the twist slowly then paused.

Blaine tackled the figure and slammed him against the wall, knife held to his throat. That usual sneer was etched on his face as he looked into the eyes of his associate, then faded as he realized they weren't wide with fear and stared back unflinchingly.

"You're getting slow." he hissed and slid the knife back into its sheath.

The man only smiled and looked down. Blaine followed his line of sight and stiffened as he found a knife pressed against his stomach. They backed away a pace and eyed each other with a newfound respect.

The man crossed his arms and leaned against the wall behind him. "I take it the meeting went according to plan?" he stated with a sense of authority that made Blaine frown.

"Perhaps." the dark elf replied, rubbing his thumb and index finger together. A heavy pouch of gold landed in his palm with a satisfying clinking. "That's more like it. Yes, it went off without a hitch. The Warrior chief and his son will follow me with their lieutenants to back up you and your men."

The man shook his head. "Oh, that's not the entire plan anymore. But that is exactly what I needed from you, Blaine. Your instructions are in the usual safe. You may go."

The bounty hunter turned away and began to leave when a murmur caught his ear. "What was that?" he hissed and spun around to face him.

The voice repeated it then. "I said you may go while I still allow it." And with that the man vanished in a clap of thunder, leaving Blaine standing alone in the freezing dark.
Chapter Fourteen: Daybreak

"No, I'm tellin' ye' it won't budge." Merlon grit his teeth and air snorted through his wide nostrils as he heaved with all his weight against the barn door. His entire body was nearly parallel to the floor as he pushed. "Come on now ye' little.." he wheezed as the door gave no ground. His feet slid in the dirt and he fell forward on his face, which as he rolled over, was bright red and covered in a sheen sweat from exertion.

He blew a wisp of air through his lips that ruffled his mustache. "Nope, it's stuck."

Thom cursed and kicked at the ground with his long and hairy feet. "What do we do now?" His little mind fumed. "We'll run outta' food if we're stuck here too long." His stomach growled almost in fear at the thought.

"What, ye' want to go to Cain Sander?" Merlon asked incredulously, still laying against the door in surrender.

Thom was quiet and shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Maybe, I just feel a little bad about it all."

"As ye' should, little one. Thievin' is no way to go about makin' a life." Merlon's frown lightened. "But ye' know that already don't ye, boy?"

Thom shrugged again and sat down on his log, stoking the fire with a long stick. His face was deep in contemplation, his soft cheeks grit in a determined line of his round jaw.

"Whelp." Merlon struggled to his feet. "Aint gettin' out this way no how." He dusted himself off and plopped down across the fire from the hobbit. He flipped his axe over in his hand and held it out to Thom, handle first. "Ye' know how to fight at all?"

Thom's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline and he shook his head. His little mouth was open in an O and he was unable to speak from surprise.

Merlon smiled and jumped to his feet, startling Thom. "By Dirringyr's hammer. Then I'll be teachin' ye I will!" He nodded to himself. "Good way to pass the time that be. Alright then, up ye' go." He came around the fire and lifted Thom to his feet. Merlon thrust the axe into his little hand and it stuck into the ground, the weight pulling his arm down with it.

"Well stand up now!" the dwarf cried incredulously. "Ye' can't be fightin' orcs an' such slouched over now can ye'?" His expectant face watched Thom but he answered his own question before the hobbit could reply. "'Course ye' can't. So ye' stand up straight, take the axe in both hands."

Thom gripped it firmly, the metal head heavier than he liked, and followed Merlon through the movements one by one; learning the basics of attacking, blocking, and how to change direction mid-swing.

"When ye' get comfortable with that, ye' can start combinin' the moves to parry and pull up straight into a swing ye' can." He laughed and his mind went back to fond memories of battles past. He shook his bearded head with a jingle of pockets. "Anyway, let's get ye' all set with the beginner moves eh?"

A few hours later and Thom was flat on the ground, panting and gasping for air, his stomach rising and falling rapidly. His arms felt like lead weights still molten; too heavy for him to move or lift and burning like fire. Every muscle in his little body ached miserably, several he didn't even know he had. He remained there on the floor, eyes shut and jaw lax to maximize air intake, and tried to ignore the one, giant sore muscle he had become.

Merlon sat a few feet away, sharpening the axe Thom had used to cut logs in varying ways, and laughing heartily at the hobbit before him. "Ye' did good, boy." he called.

Thom didn't hear him.

"Tomorrow will be even better."

He heard that.

Outsider strode over and sat down near the fire. His face was impassive but his hands clenched tightly until the veins were showing purple, popping his knuckles. He sighed and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Well the snow's piled too high for us to get anywhere. This barn's too thick to cut through and it'll probably be a few days before we can leave." He stated simply.

Merlon waited for him to continue as his tone hinted at having more to say.

"So I say we use this time to prepare. Those orcs would've gotten there first anyway. At least this way we can work on training Thom and hope their rations get low."

The dwarf nodded and scraped the whetstone one last time down the axe followed by his thumb, and approved as the leather glove split easily. "The little one is gettin' good. Might have a little bit o' dwarf in 'em."

Outsider grinned. "Is there even a difference?" Both Merlon and Thom stared at him hard. His grin only grew. "What?"

That night, he sat in deep thought by the campfire, sifting through past battles against orcs and tried to come up with a strategy to face them. He turned his head as sparks flew from the axe in Thom's hand as it banged off Merlon's axion. Outsider shook his head and delved back into his mind.

We're outnumbered. At least thirty to three; or two and a half more likely, Thom isn't a fighter. So they have that advantage, and they know we're coming. But they don't know when. Or how many of us there are.

His eyes opened and he trained them on the two sparring combatants. Merlon ducked a clumsy overhead swipe and responded with a slap of the flat-end of his axion that blew Thom off his feet and into a mound of hay.

Outsider sighed. "Definitely two and a half."

The morning found all three of them exchanging blows, Merlon's axion whistling through the air only to overcompensate and stumble as Outsider dodged the slow moving weapon; nodding approvingly as Thom took the advantage to strike Merlon low in the side. The dwarf spun around angrily and eyed the other two.

"Plottin' against me are ye'? Well come on then!" And he charged forward with his axion leading the way. Even with them using wooden replicas Merlon had made, they still hurt and could easily break bone. Luckily, he was no rookie and reserved his strength for the upcoming battle, only giving fractional amounts into his hits. Outsider did likewise though his knives were much smaller, and Thom was still learning to swing full strength without ruining his balance.

He spun about in a low chop that nearly clipped Merlon's knee, then rolled forward and struck out at Outsider who parried the blow and danced away as the axion came in behind it.

'Who's plotting against whom?" Outsider called and swept aside two attacks before responding in kind. Thom took a sharp rap across the knuckles and the dwarf narrowly blocked it with his handle.

The hobbit held the axe higher on the shaft, making it easier to swing, and brought it down against the upraised axion, knocking Merlon's aim off, and allowing a knife to pass through and tap the dwarf's shoulder, then he came around the side and placed the axe squarely between his shoulder blades. Merlon stiffened at the contact.

"Good swing, boy." He rolled his arms slowly as the sharp ache spread down his back. "I owe ye' for that 'un." He smiled and looked over to Outsider. "Why don't ye' let me go back to his private lessons? I think he's ready for level two." he suggested and turned back to Thom without an answer.

The elf obliged and stepped out of the clearing, then moved over to the door. He gave it a shove and dug the heels of his soft boots into the dirt, but to no avail.

He shrugged and sat by the fire, watching the sparring.

Thom was darting around the sides of Merlon, using his diminutive size to his advantage, and striking out quick, short-handed blows between the axion's wide swings. The dwarf blocked most of them with the elongated hilt and took the ones that did connect at such an angle that they deflected off of him with little impact. To the hobbit's credit, he didn't take a single hit until he tired out and attempted to block rather than dodge.

The flat of his own axe hit him in the forehead under the force and knocked him unconscious.

Merlon howled with laughter, wheezing and slapping his knees as tears glistened in his eyes. Outsider shook his head and slumped Thom over on a pile of hay and let him sleep. A large lump bruised purple and blue had already swelled above his right eye. The bounty hunter lifted the hobbit's eyelids and checked the dilation to the firelight then deemed him okay.

"Ye' worryin' 'bout 'em?" Merlon chirped from behind. Outsider turned to face him and he backed away a pace.

"He doesn't have a concussion. Just makin' sure he can ride, let alone fight."

The dwarf nodded, seeing the truth of the words but also reading more into the act. "Ye' know he ain't all bad don't ye'?" he pressed. Outsider looked from him back to Thom. Merlon continued. "I can see it in yer face. Plain as day it be."

Outsider shrugged. "Most of the men I capture are wanted for murder, pillaging or rape. Taking lives and security, not a few trinkets here and there." Thom stirred and rolled over then snored loudly. "I guess I don't see him taking a lifetime in prison as fair."

Merlon nodded slowly, watching him. "So what're you gonna' do?"

Outsider looked him in the eye. "I need the money." And he turned away, unable to keep the contact. He had stared down enemies twice his size and men who were slowly bleeding out on the end of his blade, but the accusing look in the dwarf's eyes was too much.

"What do you want from me, Merlon?" he challenged. "Thom is a thief."

Merlon lifted his chin defiantly. "But ye' know he doesn't deserve this. I've talked to 'em and he's a good boy. Ye' aint the type to let money guide yer hand neither."

"You don't know me." Outsider countered. "We met not a month ago. You have no idea what kind of person I am and what I've done." His eyes betrayed the expressionless mask he wore. They were smoldering with an internal fury barely in check.

Merlon glowered at him. "Aye, but ye' can't lie to me, elf. I can see yer aura and the color ye burn." His voice grew in intensity with every word. "And I know ye' aint the type to take someone to a doom of no second chances they aint deservin' when ye' yerself escaped such a fate!"

"I do whatever I need to survive!" Outsider retaliated. "You think I spent my years in Hell being nice to those who wronged me? Giving mercy to people who would just as easily turn around and stab me in the back? Do you honestly believe that I won't turn in a thief for the crimes he has committed just because he seems nice?" He paused and they held one another's gaze. "You don't know me."

They stared at each other, expecting the argument to escalate. Outsider's hands were flexed, fingers twitching in anticipation and Merlon's nostrils were flared; his breathing heavy. Then Thom rolled over and groaned.

"Who kicked me in the head over and over?" he croaked, voice dry and cracking. The tense moment was held until he sat up and opened his eyes. "We got any water?"

Outsider let Merlon break away first. "Yeah, we do." He brushed past the elf with a rough shoulder and scooped up a wineskin. "And it be yer own hand that hit ye'."

Thom drank deeply until the wineskin shriveled up completely empty then dropped it to the ground. He yawned and stretched before trying to stand up. "Legs feel like jelly." he murmured as he wobbled his way to the campfire and dropped onto a log. "Nothin' a bit o' grub won't fix."

He helped himself to a bowl of leftover stew and slurped it happily, oblivious to the glares shot between his two accomplices. Merlon sat beside him and struck up a conversation to lighten the mood, detailing the progress his training had made. Outsider turned away from them, wishing he could turn away from himself, and ignore the guilt that hung in his stomach like a rock.

He knew Merlon was right. It was impossible for him to refute something as certain as the color of his aura and what it represents. Yet he couldn't bring himself to admit it. To admit that he would condemn one such as Thom, who took up stealing to provide a living for his family, to a lifetime of imprisonment or a death penalty for some gold. To admit that he would sell someone else's life just as his had been.

He looked back and found Merlon already watching him as he and Thom spoke. Outsider lowered his eyes and nodded. Merlon's tense shoulders relaxed and he sat back on his log, smiling now as he and the hobbit laughed. Outsider sat just outside the fire's glow and listened to the playful banter.

The following morning they were back at it again, battling with Thom, who had received permission from Merlon to shorten the axe's handle for a higher fulcrum; giving him an easier swing, and they watched him make great strides forward in such a short amount of time. Before long they all bore a few bruises and had memorized the styles that would play together.

Merlon took the forefront of battles, swinging wildly to create room, with Outsider leaping in and out of the sides to score quick, lethal hits, while Thom fitted himself somewhere between; squeezing past to strike those distracted by the real threats. His small stature was perfect for remaining unnoticed in plain sight once the heat of battle ensued.

He rubbed his little hands together eagerly. "I'm ready to hack a few heads off." he growled. Merlon laughed in the affirmative while Outsider shook his head for perhaps the thousandth time that day.

"More like hacking a few kneecaps off."

Thom shrugged and smiled nonetheless. His mind was set to the task he knew would be asked of him, and if he didn't accept it now he knew he would never be able to face it. His first battle would be against orcs, with the numbers far in the enemy's favor; no easy thing to come into as inexperienced as he. But he gripped the shortened handle at his hip tighter and his jaw set determinedly.

Merlon clapped him on the shoulder and bore him to the ground again. "Ye'll do just fine, boy. And ye' got us to keep an eye on ye'."

The thief dusted himself off and stood tall, or as tall as his four foot height would allow. "Don't you worry about me. They're the ones who are gonna' need to keep an eye on me, eh?" he boasted.

Outsider gave the door a hard jolt, ramming it with his shoulder and found it moving forward with him. The melting snow parted beneath it and was no more than a thick slush. Outsider turned back to them. "Door's open. Let's get packed up and ready to go."

Thom's posture slumped visibly and his face blanched like that of paper.
Chapter Fifteen: First Blood

"By Dirringyr's hammer I hate ridin' horses!" Merlon complained as his legs grew stiff and saddle sore. "If dwarves were meant for ridin' we'd have been given softer feet and longer legs."

Outsider turned around in his saddle to look back at him. The dwarf was bouncing around, left and right, his hands clamped tightly on the reins and pulling the horses' head this way and that. Thom was jostling right along with him as he had decided to ride with his new friend.

"Lighten up on the reins, let her lead." Outsider called back. He could hear Merlon's grumbling and stifled a chuckle. Instead he turned to face the front again and focused on the horizon.

No more than half a day's ride to the west lay the mountain range they were to cross. The mountain trail, often called the Pilgrimage Pass, was the only way across the range within several tendays of riding and the easiest. The less favored trails were rightly so as the winding roads were full of treacherous storms and roaming bandits. Not to mention they all exited into the unforgiving marshes of Blackwater where passing through only meant passing through to the next life.

Meanwhile the Pilgrimage Pass had a steady flow of knights, warriors, and travelers alike to keep the price high for any who would attempt an attack or raid. Even a few guards were known to patrol it here and there during the busy trading seasons.

But winter was no such time. All the trading to be done was either already completed or a local affair now. Soon the entire pass and every plain between would become so overgrown with snow that the mountain range would double in size until the thaw. Winter is the north's true form and a state of being that shook the very bones of the land.

Outsider eyed the sky the nth time that morning and expected a mound of white to bury him. But the gray sky remained calm and placid. And while the wind still had a lip chapping chill and at least a foot of snow upon the ground, no more was falling.

"Yet." He muttered under his breath, just knowing life was going to throw another problem his way.

The hours dragged by lazily with a horrifyingly slow pace. Outsider felt he was going to lose his longevity and find himself dying of old age before he would ever get close to the pass. Thom slumped in the saddle, too uncomfortable to sleep and stressed the approaching bloodshed. Merlon paid him no heed as he continued to shift from side to side in an attempt of rekindling life into his numb buttocks.

"This is hopeless it is!" he cried and plopped out of the saddle. He picked himself up and rubbed his sore backside furiously. "This horse hates me. I'd be better off runnin' alongside it than stumblin' atop it." He crossed his arms and eyed the horse, its large round eye looking at him impassively. "Did ye' see the look it just gave me? I never seen such a scornful glare!"

Outsider spun Jiff about and paced over to him. "No offense meant, but dwarves aren't known for their speed. And we've quite the ways to go." He gestured off into the distance. "It would be much easier if you simply rode there."

But the stubborn dwarf was already shaking his head. "Nonsense. Me legs are fit as any horse's and twice as strong." he boasted. "Ye' just worry 'bout gettin' there yerself. I'll be fine."

Thom shrugged and slid forward in the saddle to take the reins. He patted the horse gently and prayed it wouldn't send him flying. "I'm no fan of riding, myself." Thom explained. "But I can manage."

"If you try to run—"Outsider began.

"I have nowhere to go out here," the hobbit interrupted. "Escape means nothing now anyway. My name's been branded for my actions now, eh?"

The elf noted the nod Merlon gave him and decided to trust in the dwarf's sense of people and their intentions, as well as the hobbit's new resolve.

He turned without another word and tenderly pressed his heels into Jiff's sides. They were off at a jogging pace the horses could keep all day if need be; less risk of tiring them out and easier for Merlon to keep up. Luckily, the dwarf had left his axion strapped onto the saddle and wasn't wearing plate armor as usual for such a fighter but leather bracers and greaves atop his typical attire.

His face soon grew red and sweaty and his breathing became fast and raspy, but the dwarves are tough as the stone they mine and his endurance was nowhere near peaked. His jaw set beneath his bushy beard and his eyes squinted in a wrinkled frown. Steadily his boots began to feel lighter, his footfalls not as loud, and his legs raised higher from the icy ground. His tempo increased to a run and before long he was ahead of Jiff.

The elf smiled beneath his hood at the stubborn fighter and couldn't help but admire the determination of Merlon's character. A complete stranger offering to help fight a suicidal battle in the hopes of saving his home and its people, with no guarantees of survival or even being capable of solving the mystery.

Outsider surprised himself then when envy coursed though his veins. He didn't understand it yet. What was he jealous of? The fact that Merlon could trust others so easily? His confidence in the face of uncertainty as to his home's fate? That he could have the chance to save his home as he hadn't? Or was it just having something to fight for?

That last thought rang true.

His gaze fell from Merlon to the knives sheathed on the underside of his wrists and then to Thom. What was he fighting for, that little hobbit?

His family, Outsider's mind answered in reply. His mother who raised and cared for him, and his ill sister who's ailment continued to deteriorate her health until it drove his hand to crime. To feed, shelter, and heal them. To care for them.

An honorable cause.

His gaze fell once more to his knives. The blades that had killed many and spilled the blood of even more. The blades that had saved his life on numerous occasions, more than he could recount, and gotten him out of more jobs gone wrong than he was willing to admit. The blades that earned him enough money to have whatever he needed in his meager existence of living in the wilderness.

But what were those blades fighting for? What was he using them to achieve? All the violence, death, and pain he had caused had been for what purpose? To sell life for gold? The currency exchange in which men went for the metal in your pocket until the weight of coin matched that of the bodies?

A metallic taste filled his mouth and he spat bile.

His childhood flashed before his eyes; of dark elves sneering at him and murmuring to one another as bets were placed on the outcome of the match. Of warm blood running down his arms while he held onto the first other elf he had been forced to kill as life flowed from its body. Of the coins passed from hand to hand before unceremoniously dragging the corpse away then burning it and locking him in his room.

The tug of gold in his pocket felt as if the entire universe was pulling on it, slowing him, unbalancing him, wanting him to crawl on his hands and knees. The weight grew and grew until he was swaying in the saddle. He locked his legs to hold himself upright but the load proved too much.

He collapsed from the saddle and sprawled out in the snow. He didn't feel the impact or the cold. Only the heavy presence of the blood money in his satchel. His fingers numbly scratched at the drawstring, feebly attempting to free himself from the weight.

From the burden.

Thom and Merlon were upon him then, rolling him over and calling out to him. But their voices were far away and dulled as if he were underwater. He realized he couldn't breathe. His lungs began to contract and squeeze, pulse quickening to a fever pitch. Lights and colors flashed before his eyes in a myriad of waves and a conglomerate of shapes.

But through the collage of nothing and everything was the color red. It poured across the visions and splashed across his eyes, dripping and spilling until he felt he would drown in it.

His fingers picked at the satchel again.

The pressure increased, the crimson took over his sight. He could feel it running down the back of his throat and filling his lungs. Air was a distant memory now.

His fingernail caught on the string and tugged it loose.

His sinuses filled with such an intensity he was sure he was screaming but couldn't hear anything over the rushing in his ears. The waterfall-like sound of the ever present red spilling over him, pushing him down, down, so deep the surface was black and forgotten. His ears popped and he knew the pressure would kill him if the suffocation didn't first.

His chest deflated and all the air was pressed from his lungs. His eyes rolled back into his head and the world went black, silent, like when he dreamed of his solace. The darkness that protected him. That made everything equal when appearance was but a figment of a long distant memory. Where everything was different and the same. Where no one could be judged by the color of their skin or their clothes, and only actions because a picture is worth a thousand words but all of them are painted black, so they must feel you and the changes you have made.

You must shake their reality within the darkness.

But there is no reality. So you just blend in with the rest of the nothing hidden within the everything until you're forgotten and everyone is together in being alone. That is when they can understand his pain, and he will know theirs, and they can all be equal.

The darkness peeled away like ashes in the breeze; dark patches lifted from his vision as if he were being dug up from a grave. When the last of it had gone, he saw only the sky. The omnipresent gray he shrouded himself in. The clouds were still thick and roiling as they brewed storms to come.

Then he saw the faces staring at him with concern. Not the selfish sense of it such as fearing him but of fearing for him.

That's new, he thought, or at least he thought he had thought it until Merlon laughed and nodded.

"I bet it is knowin' the kind of upbringin' ye' must've had." the dwarf growled and swung the small satchel of gold cents around on his finger. "This what ye' were tryin' to get off?"

Outsider attempted to nod but his head felt like it weighed a ton. "Yes." he managed to whisper. His lungs were steadily filling with air. Raw edges seared in his throat like salt water and he felt as if he had swallowed razors. He sat up slowly with help from the others and swooned before he had even found his feet.

"Not so fast, elf." Merlon warned. "Ye' might be sick. Yer skin's pale and yer eyes darker than usual." His face frowned and he scratched at his beard. "But yer aura seems brighter than ever. What the hell did ye' do?"

Outsider shook his head and closed his eyes. Waves of nausea were passing over him followed by motion sickness. He still felt as if he were in the water. Or the blood. Whatever it was that he had been drowning in.

Thom stared at him then the money. "I know how you feel, Outsider." He slapped the elf on the shoulder and grinned. "You may not have stolen that, but you don't feel like you earned it right? So it weighs on your conscience until it pulls on your very soul. Least it feels that way.

"So you try to fight it and rationalize what you did to get it, to make yourself believe it was right. But you can't lie to yourself and you get sick. Not sick of any disease but of yourself and what you've become."

Merlon eyed the pouch in his hand and held it away from his face, arm fully extended and nose pinched with his free hand. "Whadda' I do with it?" he spluttered nasally.

"Drop it." Outsider croaked.

Merlon looked about. "In the saddle bag or in the snow?"

"The snow. Just leave it."

The dwarf shrugged and the money sank to the ground. He dusted off his hands and muttered a few blessings to ward off any curses and knocked his knuckles against the wooden shaft of his throwing axe.

"Superstitious are we?" Thom noted.

"Better safe than sorry." the dwarf retorted and held his hand out to the elf who accepted it gratefully and stood. "Ye' feel up to ridin'?"

Outsider noticed the worry in his voice and wasn't sure if he should feel offended or thankful. "I'm fine, just need a drink." Thom handed him the wineskin full of melted snow and he drained it. He nodded his thanks and Thom smiled in reply.

"Feels good don't it?" the hobbit inquired. His eyebrow rose in an arch-a habit he had picked up from Merlon-and his little smile was smug. Outsider's shrug took the cockiness away but the smile remained.

"Feels lighter I'll tell you that." the elf conceded, unsure of how he truly felt about whatever had happened to him. "Like I've been carrying something on my shoulders for a while now and finally took it off."

"Well good, 'cause you're gonna be needin' that extra speed. Their fires are up." Merlon observed gravely. The others turned to see what he was watching. "They're ready an' waitin'."

A dozen campfires were strewn about the snow-laden plain in the distance. Just behind them stood the pass; mountains looming ominously over them in a seemingly random pattern of jigsaw like spikes protruding into the sky. Dark forms could be seen huddling around the fires, absorbing the heat and preparing for battle.

The light cast off the series of flames illuminated the field around the pass in a semicircle leaving no darkness to slip through. Fully lit in a curving wall of light, the battlefield was prepared and showed their force to be a daunting one to oppose.

"A few hours still until the sun has fully set." Outsider decided. "We push on till nightfall then wait nearby until daybreak."

"Then what?" Thom's voiced wavered.

"We watch them during the day; see their patterns, identify their leaders, and get them antsy. Then we move in slowly at dusk, when their depth perception will be unstable. I'll pick off as many as I can with my bow before they notice. Hopefully by then, the sun will have set and they'll have to set up fires with more wood. That's when we strike."

Merlon nodded and liked the logic. "Catch 'em with their pants down. I like the way ye' think, elf. But ye' sure ye' can fight? Ye' were out for nearly an hour."

Thom remained silent, knowing he had no mind for battle tactics and simply tried to memorize the plans. The hard knot in his stomach twisted and ached so he had to keep his mouth shut for fear of vomiting.

"I'm fine. Better than before actually." Outsider grinned wickedly. "Hopefully we can damage their numbers enough that we can slip through to the mountains where I can set more traps and fight them on my terms." Outsider mused. "Then I'll show them why surface dwellers should be afraid of the dark."
Chapter Sixteen: Divided

Night came and went without notice. The small group was too road weary to account for its passing. Instead they each spent that time sleeping among dreams of new battle and conquest, seeing those who had been gone for so long, and finding some hidden power within. Bodies resting and minds sharpened, the trio was preparing for the next night even unconsciously.

Not requiring actual sleep, Outsider was the first up. His extended six hours of waking dreams were more than enough to keep him alert and capable. Muscles tensed with every noise that passed the little campsite and eyes roamed the black vale. Only the dots of firelight shown in the northern winter night.

Outsider thanked whatever gods may be listening for the lack of fresh snowfall and sat himself on the crest of the hill the others were sleeping behind. He laid prone, heavy cloak wrapped about him, and watched the orcs' movements. His keen eyesight saw the guards posted about the perimeter of the light as they lacked night vision.

But he didn't.

Something inside still didn't feel right. That debilitating change the day before left him shaken and confused, unknowing where to go next. All his life he had been a pawn in someone else's plans, not really living, and forced to follow orders at the expense of pain or death. Now he had found himself sharing his prison with others by enforcing the same rules and cruelty he had suffered.

Sure, he hadn't actually killed or harmed anyone recklessly and only went after those with a bounty on their head. Yet those he had often had bounties so miniscule they weren't worth the punishment. He had hunted them down for crimes numerous others wouldn't consider a true offense or in need of such excessive castigation. But he had taken them in all the same and enacted his own vigilante vengeance upon those he deemed worthy; leaving the innocents unharmed physically but finding it impossible not to harm them emotionally. But what was innocence?

Everyone commits crimes, he told himself. No one is truly innocent, yet only those marked as criminals are hunted like an animal to be slaughtered or imprisoned within a cage.

Perhaps that is the point of it all. To punish those deemed unworthy, due to their acts, by stripping them of their humanity. To bring them down to such a point of insignificance that they're beneath us and any violent actions made in the name of 'justice' are inconsequential to the rest who retain rights.

He stared at the firelights amid his thinking and tried to consider the orcs as nothing but animals, hoping it would make it easier to vilify them; but finding nothing more than that same bitter taste in his mouth that reminded him of rusted metal.

"No." he steeled himself. "Now's not the time." He slipped his knives back into their sheaths along his wrists and waited patiently, chewing the inside of his lip. He remained motionless there for several hours, only moving to raise his cowl as the sun did likewise.

Merlon sat beside him. "Anythin' goin' on?" He yawned and stretched his thick arms, joints popping, and scratched his chest. The lines on his face seemed eased now that he had rested and his eyes were clear and bright.

"Nothing yet, best guess is they're expecting us to try and slip by them rather than fight."

Merlon tugged on his beard as he ran his fingers through its length to comb out the curls and knots. "Is that such a bad idea?" He looked almost apologetically at Outsider as he said it. "I'm not one to avoid a fight, don't get me wrong. But there be a lot more of 'em then there is of us. And we don't have to go...the boy's changed he has, I know you've seen it."

"Yes, but perhaps this trip is about more than just him." Outsider countered and crossed his arms. "Even if I decided not to take him in, those orcs are still out there waiting for us, ready to strike anyone who happens across them. That and I don't want to free Thom so quickly; it's a big decision and a lot of cents."

"Are we going so you can arrest him or free yourself?"

The elf couldn't refute that logic. He had wondered the same thing all night and ran multiple scenarios through his head. He looked at Merlon then down to Thom who was just beginning to stir, weighing his words heavily. "I understand your concern and share it.."

"But?" Merlon pressed.

"But, I see no way of getting all of us past them undetected without some sort of battle emerging." He changed the subject. "And I would prefer we initiate it on our own terms. I don't want to fight them and I don't want anyone to get hurt, but I most definitely don't want to fight them after spending days on the run. It just seems the most plausible option."

Merlon was silent and continued to comb through his beard with his thick fingers. His eyebrows bunched together for a second then smoothed out his forehead and he shrugged. "Well let's get some grub. Those orcs aint goin' anywhere and we can talk 'bout this all day if need be."

Hunger gnawing at him, Outsider obliged and followed him down the hill to where Thom was striking up a small fire. They sat heavily as the meat sizzled on sticks stuck in the dirt. Thom glanced over at the elf.

"Don't you ever sleep?" he asked with a perplexed expression. "I mean, you're always up. Could you teach me how you do it?"

Merlon chuckled as Outsider shrugged helplessly. "It's just an elven thing I suppose; we delve into our dreams to solve the mysteries of who we are and why. It helps keep us sane when we live so long an gives us time to heal."

"Oh, wow." Thom breathed in awe and his eyes roamed the stars as he imagined it. "That must be amazing."

"It's all I've ever known so I really can't say; however there are a rare few of my kind who can actually visit their ancestors within their dreams." He stared into the fire as he spoke and nodded. "Now that is a gift I wish I had."

Merlon and Thom watched him a moment then shared a glance. "Er, well, the food's ready." The dwarf said quickly and picked up his stick. "Let's eat."

***

Ulgvhen paced back and forth, arms crossed behind his back. His jaw jutted forward and revealed his large tusk-like teeth beneath his crooked nose and black eyes that scanned the horizon every few seconds. The others watched him as he went about with a wide berth given until the snow was replaced with his tracks. Testament to his stress, his wounds had been slow to heal and the thick scab upon his elbow; shattered from that accursed bounty hunter's blade, had cracked and bled in the night, leaving his arm nearly useless and sore.

He absentmindedly scratched at it with his nails as he walked in an elongated circle. The firelight was gone now, replaced by the sun, meaning another night had passed without incident. Another night for his brother to grow increasingly impatient. Already two orcs had lost their heads for questioning the choices of their irritable leader.

What was he to do? Ulgvhen knew he couldn't keep the others in line indefinitely and soon they would rebel against him and Cleave Rend. Being a Beta he was the second in command and would therefore be a high priority target. But the fact that he didn't know to whom his loyalty lie with just raised even more questions.

In such a turn of events, would he follow his brother, or more accurately, the demon now possessing his brother's corpse? Or would he side with those he had trained and grown up with for most of his relatively long life?

In his heart he knew the answer but couldn't bring himself to face it.

"Ulgvhen?" a voice called. It was Ulvet again, one of the older and more prominent in their community. Ulgvhen knew the others looked up to him and he shared their sentiment. Ulvet was a good warrior and trusted in the old ways and traditions.

However he could show no overt signs of any emotion right now. He had taken it upon himself to remain completely emotionless and neutral until the battle was over and their tribe could be settled.

"What?" Ulgvhen asked impassively, continuing to pace back and forth and not look at him.

Ulvet looked about and threw caution to the wind. "We're tired of waiting around, Beta." he said with mention of his honored rank. "We're hungry and food's short. This time would be better spent hunting and stocking up for the cold months."

Ulgvhen secretly agreed, but he wouldn't openly defy his brother. At least not yet. That and the seeds of revenge that had been planted in his brain had sewn many pleasant thoughts about ripping that bounty hunter apart limb from limb then dragging his torso behind a horse. He wanted to get him.

"I would keep ideas like that quiet, Ulvet. Less you want to get your head chopped off?"

The orc warrior shifted uncomfortably and rubbed his neck. "I know, but it's not just me. It's all of us."

That caught his attention. Ulgvhen stopped pacing and stared into Ulvet's beady eyes. "All of you?"

He nodded. "Everyone's agreed. Killing two people aint worth losing this much time." His courage began to grow at catching the Beta's notice. "In a day's time, if they aren't found and killed, we're leaving to hunt and return home."

Ulgvhen cursed and spun around as if struck. Things were going worse than he had anticipated. Or at least getting there faster. He realized he was out of time and would soon be called upon to make a choice.

"Listen." He leaned in close to Ulvet. "Keep your plans but make no word of them." Then he motioned for him to go. Ulgvhen plunged back into his thoughts, pacing back and forth, back and forth, just like his mind's indecision.

***

The day passed by in a slow motion blur. While every moment seemed to drag on for an eternity, they were far between and seemed to skip. Trying to remember what had transpired; Thom found several discrepancies and blank spots in his memory. When asked, Merlon and Outsider too, found it to be full of empty lengths of time. Merlon assured them it was just nerves.

So the hobbit busied himself making sure the fire was kept going, the horses didn't stray, not that Jiff ever did, and practicing with his axe. By the time the sun was beginning to dip behind the mountain pass he was full of adrenaline and nothing but ready.

Even the cold pit of fear within his stomach wasn't enough to quench the fire of his resolve. But the waiting anxiety still proved to be the worst part. Thom squirmed uncomfortably as the feeling of spiders crawling up his back caused shivers down his spine.

"When're we getting out of here?" he complained and fell back, kicking his feet. Merlon looked sidelong at him and laughed a short bark. "Since when've you been in such a hurry to fight? 'Specially orcs?"

"Since sitting here waiting just a couple hundred yards away has proven the worse." Nodding, the dwarf sat beside him and continued sharpening his axion. Thom eyed him helplessly. "What do you do to pass the time?" The dwarf motioned to the weapon in his hand and scraped the whetstone down its length whistling.

Thom watched him hone the already razor edge then pulled his own axe from his bag. The now-shortened oak handle was already rubbed smooth from years of use and the blade was darkened from age, however it was free of rust and responded phenomenally to being sharpened with the chunk of whetstone he was given. Before long, the keen edge was scintillating against the aged backdrop of the rest of the axe.

Merlon and Thom were both working away when Outsider descended the hill so quietly they didn't know he was there until he spoke. "It's time." The others jumped. "The sun's nearly set and already the shadows grow long. You two stay back from the light, close enough to see clearly, until I call you."

The dwarf jumped to his feet. "Ye' mean to keep all the fightin' to yerself ye' do!" he accused with a stubby finger pointed the elf's way. "I'm not one for sittin' by while me friends are in danger."

The elf laughed. "Danger? It's dusk, good dwarf, and night is the time my people are born into and live their entire lives within." His blades appeared in his hands suddenly then vanished just as quickly. "Keep your heads down and stay below the horizon line else your silhouettes will be visible. Just follow me."

Silently, a few minutes later, the group made their way across the dark plain slowly with only Outsider having to crouch to stay below the skyline. The shadows had grown long from the west; stretching from the mountains and past their campsite. They made their way forward at an angle to avoid coming into the center of the ring of firelight and instead opted to come at them from the right, where the smallest numbers of orcs were grouped.

The experienced sleuth motioned for the fighter and thief to remain where they were then continued ahead alone. He took a knee and reached into the pack he wore and removed three lengths of mahogany and a small pouch. The thickest strut was the handle to a bow, strong and solid in his grip. The other two were the limbs, supple and flexible which locked into place and were bolted in with the pouch of screws. Hooking the bow over his right ankle, angled between his legs, and bending it over his left leg, he strung the recurve bow and tested the pull experimentally.

Nodding at its weight and security, he pulled back the flap on his pack to keep it open, strapped it on even tighter, and reached into it. A black arrow with eagle fletching was clipped onto the string with a barely audible snap as the nock took hold.

"Let's see if I remember how to do this." he murmured and drew back steadily as he inhaled. His back muscles flexed under the sixty pound pull and his chest tightened.

He leaned his head to the side slightly, to see around the arrow, and shifted his vision into the dark spectrum. Four orcs were gathered around the fire and were happily munching on something between swapping stories. He eyed the length of the arrow shaft and aligned it with the orc farthest to the left of the group, hardly in the light at all.

He let loose.

The arrow flew with a twang and buried itself in the orc's neck. With a jolt the beast grasped at its throat, unable to speak and fell over. The nearest orc looked over just as a second arrow found its mark in its chest, puncturing a lung. The last two were in the middle of an argument and miraculously didn't notice their number being halved.

"It was this big I tells ya!" The closer of the two cried and held his green hand over his head. "Taller than me an you together!"

The other shook his ugly head and opened his mouth to speak when an arrow passed through his gullet and protruded from the back of his neck; all after passing through the first speaker's eye.

Outsider stopped, looked down at the bow in his hands, back to the two orcs dropped with a single arrow, and shrugged. "Damn."

"Damn." Thom and Merlon said in unison on the other side of the ring of fire. Merlon took heart at the fact it was hard to see, even with his own dark vision, and he would have missed it if he hadn't known what he was looking for.

The hobbit instead grimaced at the grisly sight and shuddered. "Glad he's on our side." Merlon nodded wholeheartedly. They squinted their eyes in an attempt to watch his movement to the next fire but soon lost him as the darkness deepened and his camouflage, both external and natural, blended into the background seamlessly.

Instead they simply watched the forms of orcs disappear from view as he made progress through the defended encampment. One by one they slipped from the firelight into the dark, striking a grim pose for their last instant within the lights as the arrows struck home. But before long one of the groups burst into action, calling out warnings and taking up their weapons with a roar.

"We got missing sentries! Anybody see 'em?" one of them hollered and lit up a torch. The others followed gathered around their fires to follow suit.

Outsider reached into his pack and impaled a small pouch tied tightly into a ball on the end of an arrow. He pulled it back as the orcs threw extra firewood on to maximize visibility. Others ran from their posts to defend the side they knew to be attacked. Then the rigged arrow flew into the enlarged fire casting up sparks.

Flames engulfed the mass of orcs and spread out in a cloud as it exploded violently. Bodies were tossed about like ragdolls and coated in writhing tendrils of pure heat. The sudden change in atmosphere was shocking as night became day and the air filled with acrid smoke.

The inferno quickly spread, casting an immense glow about the area and revealing Outsider's position to the enraged force he faced. But he was prepared and readily made the sacrifice of stealth. He hid his face from the intense light with his hood and barreled off behind the boulder he had spotted earlier, sliding into cover just as a spear bounced off the rock.

Thom looked to Merlon with his hand held up to shield his eyes. "Think that was the sign?"

Merlon shrugged and picked up his axion. "Sure."

And with that they stormed into the offside, striking the backs of the unaware orcs who were busy watching the elf's last location and throwing rocks. The dwarf's heavy axion cleaved its way through two of the beasts and Thom's axe a third before they realized they were being attacked.

The force turned upon the two little fighters and started to spread their forces out to surround them. But Merlon was no novice and backpedalled, dragging Thom along, to stand behind one of the fires. Then he tossed in one of the bundles he was given by the elf and took off running with the hobbit as it exploded just as the previous arrow.

The orcs who had been pursuing them were caught in the ensuing firestorm. Blasted apart and off their feet, their numbers were scattered and without command.

***

Ulgvhen snarled in rage and charged forward with his mace leading the way. He knocked his fighters aside as he plowed through to the forefront. Deep shadows were cast across his scarred and gnarled face from the trail of flames before him.

He looked to Cleave Rend who was approaching calmly from behind and motioned to the battle. "What do we do now? The field's ruined and our force gone wild!"

Cleave Rend laughed and swung the wicked axe in a circle about his palm. "He's here." his demonic voice graveled. "What we do now, my dear Ulgvhen, is capture the bounty hunter. And you watch in awe as I destroy him."

Ulgvhen watched the charred skull in the firelight and had the sudden desire to smash his mace into it. He knew the thing would survive, but also knew he could put more than enough impact behind it to disintegrate bone into splinter and dust.

"You are not my brother." he growled and stalked away from the impassive demon. Cleave Rend smiled inwardly again as Ulgvhen went.

Everything was on course.

The orc beta cursed and sprinted as fast as he could go through the patches of fire and frozen ground, fearing he would catch flame one second only to slip the next. His eyes widened in amazement at how quickly things had gone south for them.

Then they narrowed as he saw the dwarf and hobbit hacking they way through the burnt and wounded orcs. He slid the mace to the ground, retrieved a spear, then spun on his heel, and with a growl, sent the spear flying.

It soared through the air, head over aft, and found its mark.

***

Outsider dropped a second pouch on the ground which erupted into a smoke cloud between the boulder and the closest patch of darkness and he made his way through it. Passing from the light, he made his way around the ring of fire that had now spread widely, and circumvented the battle to attack from the side.

All the orcs' attention focused on escaping the flames or the fighters, they didn't notice the elf emptying his small quiver into them. Four arrows and dead orcs later, he was standing straight ahead with knives glistening.

The remaining orcs, fifteen of them, formed a line formation then as a powerful voice boomed out commands. Spears and axes were lowered in a fence of death. Outsider slowed and stopped before them.

The line parted as Ulgvhen made his way through. He held his chin high and eyed the bounty hunter. A face of pure contempt watched the elf's subtle movements. He swung the mace about lightly despite the fact it weighed over fifty pounds and grit his teeth.

"You have a lot of nerve coming in like this." he snarled. "You have killed far too many of my tribe to allow you to leave this place. Though I respect your skills I must end their use."

Outsider eyed him warily. This orc was nearing the realm of berserking, a natural Warrior, and would prove extremely dangerous. "I was attacked first. Am I not to defend myself?"

Ulgvhen snorted and waved his hand carelessly. "Defending yourself and setting a coward's trap are not the same."

"No more cowardly than sending a whole tribe after a single man." the elf countered. Ulgvhen went silent at that and Outsider knew he had hit a nerve. "So let us settle this on even ground. One on one in single combat."

The orc beta thrust out his chest and jutted out his boar-like tusks. "Agreed."

The line of orcs spread out into a circle to watch the fight. They chanted in their guttural language and banged their weapons on the ground. Outsider tried to find his friends but couldn't see through the ring of thick orc fighters. He hoped they were okay but found himself obligated to put them off.

He turned back to Ulgvhen, his bare chest covered in dozens of scars and rippling with powerful muscle. He noted the strained lines across the orc's flesh, signs of age, the lessening of muscle mass he knew. Then his eyes watched the pendulum motion of the mace attached to the chain as an immense flail.

"It is only right you should die by my hand!" the beta called. "I am the most veteran of our tribe, the elder; it is my duty to judge. And you are guilty."

They circled one another, keeping their backs away, and waited for the other to make the first move.

Outsider watched his body language. The slight sag of the right shoulder showed the weight of the flail, and his other arm was still wrapped in a bandage. His footfalls were uneven, suggesting a wounded knee, and his eyes flicked repeatedly to the elf's legs.

Outsider knew Ulgvhen would move first.

The orc came on suddenly in a rage, flail swinging into an uppercut that whistled past the elf's head as he dodged the slow swing and struck out with Darkbane, slicing a long, thin line across Ulgvhen's ribs. The orc ignored it and carried his momentum from the uppercut into a wide arc that forced the elf back.

Outsider came in low, catching a punch from the orc's off hand to the side of the head that sent him off balance. The orc caught him and lifted him into the air by the throat. His beady black eyes stared hard at him.

Then Ulgvhen slammed him into the ground so hard all the air was pressed from his lungs and Darkbane flew from his hand. Stunned, Outsider stared up at the sky then at the flail coming down at him.

He rolled to the side and jumped to his feet. While the orc lifted the flail from the small crater in the frozen ground, the elf charged forward and flicked his spare knife into the orc's arm, just above the bandage. The orc shrugged it off and hurled the flail about in a surge of adrenaline. The heavy mace collided with Outsider's cloak as he ran past and caught, carrying him with the swing until the thick fabric ripped and he was thrown to the ground.

He rolled with it and came up instantly. He eyed Darkbane, on the other side of Ulgvhen, its blade gleaming white.

Ulgvhen swung the flail over his head on its chain, a loud whirring drone filling the air over the chanting and roaring. Timing it, Outsider came in fast, ducked the swing, and slid between the orc's legs to scoop up Darkbane.

What he didn't expect was Ulgvhen to release the flail and turn on his heel to catch Outsider with his now-open hand. He dragged him back and cast him aside to premium range for the heavy mace. But the elf flicked out his knife and slid it down the orc's wrist as he was thrown.

By the pull of the razor sharp blade he knew he had severed muscle and possibly a vein. He turned about to face his opponent and judging by Ulgvhen's pained face he knew his guess was correct. Taking advantage of the wound, Outsider sprinted ahead with both daggers and leapt forward with a kick that caught the orc's chest, propelling himself off and into a backflip. But the orc didn't budge under the kick and swung out, the chain catching Outsider's legs and sweeping them from under him.

He landed hard on his shoulder and back but scrambled to his feet quickly as another heavy blow dented the ground with a loud thump. Sweat now ran down the elf's neck and his body ached. Ulgvhen too was covered in sheen perspiration and his wounds were bleeding freely.

Most noticeable however was the way his arm sagged; never lifting the flail off the ground except to swing.

"Getting tired, old one?" Outsider called. Ulgvhen laughed a deep, throaty chuckle and unwound the chain from his arm. The flail was set aside and replaced with only the length of metal links. He wrapped it about his fist in an oblong shape and punched his palm, testing the chain.

"Not yet." And he came forward deceptively quick without the weight of the mace holding him back. The chain-fist slammed into Outsider's stomach and blew him off his feet. Then followed through by kicking him in the ribs repeatedly until he rolled away.

Outsider clutched his side and gasped for air. He could feel the cracks in the bone with his precise fingers and cursed his cockiness. This was the second time they had been fractured by these orcs; if not for having enough time to heal between, he might be dead.

Fixing his grip on the daggers, he set his mind to finish the fight quickly.

Ulgvhen came in then, swinging precise jabs to conserve energy. Accurate and fast, they were a good plan to follow through with. But the elf was faster. He bobbed and weaved behind each blow and struck out in return between each with his blades, leaving small cuts and incisions that gradually stacked upon one another.

Blood oozed down the veteran warrior's chest and lined the tips of the bounty hunter's blades. The ring of orcs were at a fever pitch now as the fighting escalated and real blows were made.

Outsider took a heavy fist to the hip and was knocked flat, but he countered with a twist of his hips that brought him to his feet and into a wide arc that drew a line of blood from Ulgvhen's right shoulder to his left rib. Then he followed through with a stab from Darkbane that slid in several inches beneath his arm before he was batted away.

Ulgvhen felt that one. He winced as every breath brought a searing hot pain, blood bubbling out from the wound. He gazed at it then up to the one responsible. Outsider's face, hidden beneath his hood as always, was impassive. But his voice was strained.

"I just pricked your lung." He took a deep breath during the reprieve; his ribs aching. "If you stop now you might be able to have it stitched. Or," he motioned with his hands like a scale. "You can keep fighting. And it will tear. And you will die." He let the statement hang as cold, hard fact.

Ulgvhen looked around at the crowd that had grown silent. The faces of his men so battered and tired. Burns and cuts and raw areas from the bitter cold they had marched through. Theirs were looks of despair. He saw the pain in their eyes and knew it to be reflected in his own. He looked down at his bleeding body then to the several upon the ground.

He shook his head.

"All this for one man?" he whispered. He shook his head again. "All this for one man?" he said more forcefully. The ring around him were all watching him alone now. "All this for one man!?" he roared and the others echoed his question. "I will not lead myself and my tribe into such devastation over one man!"

The others cheered and cried out in approval at their beta's words. All along they had hoped for this, prayed he would save them from the murderous and detrimental ways of Cleave Rend who saw all of them as expendable. Finally they could return home and to their ways of hunting and raiding.

"Your tribe?" a bass filled voice inquired. "I thought this was my tribe?"

All faces turned slowly as Cleave Rend entered the ring. He turned from Outsider to Ulgvhen, giving each the same scornful look of contempt within those empty eye sockets.

"You are not fit to lead, Cleave Rend, and no longer an orc." the beta replied, gripping the chains wrapped about his hand. "I am taking control of the tribe as the eldest and brother to our last leader, Uvrikh."

Cleave Rend nodded his skull. "Is that right?" he murmured quietly. He turned his back to the orc then spun about, launching the black axe at him impossibly fast. It embedded itself deep within Ulgvhen's chest with a smack like slapping water.

Ulgvhen stumbled against the impact and dropped to one knee. Crimson drenched his trousers and poured down his front. He coughed and spat up yet more. His eyes seemed hollow and fading.

"You see, brother," the skull sneered the word. "You will not be taking control of the tribe. For I, Cleave Rend, am the only chief. The last chief." As he said it he pushed Ulgvhen over onto his back with his foot. "For I cannot die. I will not disappear as you will. I shall remain and propel this tribe into a power they are all too stupid to imagine."

Ulgvhen gripped the handle of the axe in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak but only blood came forth. His grayish-green skin was pale and the pool beneath him continued to grow. Instead he gestured to the skull then closed his hand into a fist.

Recognizing the sign, the ring of orcs closed in on Cleave Rend.
Chapter Seventeen: Escalation

Striking out in a rage with abandon, the orcs dismissed any order and rushed in to rip apart the traitor. Their axes and spears led the way, seeking out a nice patch of flesh, in a myriad of primitive weaponry. Yet their lack of organization worked against them.

Cleave Rend, no amateur and having survived centuries through thousands of battles, was no ordinary enemy. His hands spun out furiously with a glint that seemed to flare with life and batted away the clumsy attacks, shattering several spear shafts and bending the head of a battleaxe. Amid the sparks came a second sweep before they could back away.

Cleave Rend howled in glee as blood splashed across his face and spilled down his front. Several orcs collapsed and the others retreated several paces. They eyed the extraordinary fighter before them warily and shared nervous glances.

Cleave Rend nodded his skull and spun a puddle of deep red on his palm. "Now you understand; fools you would be to stand against me on the field of battle and not behind me." No reply came forth. "But I acknowledge your ignorance and stupidity for you cannot help it. The trait is bound to your orc blood. So I offer mercy.

"For a price."

The orcs stirred and shifted uncomfortably. A long pervading silence ensued, only the crackling fires and moaning of wounded filling the chilled night air. The demon popped his neck by turning his skull sharply to the side then jumped forward before the dimwitted orcs knew he had moved.

He cleared the distance of ten feet easily and gripped a pair of them by the throat without slowing and tossed them into the largest fires. They landed in a plume of smoke and sent up a hundred sparks that soared into the black sky, soon followed by their screams as their flesh charred and they scrambled to get up.

But before they could escape from the white hot logs the demon had already gripped two spears from the ground and sent them through the flaming orcs; pinning them to the coals.

He smiled inwardly as their cries and agonizing screams reached a fever pitch.

As such, he didn't notice Outsider slip away from the crowd and scour the corpse strewn field for his friends; praying all the while they wouldn't be among them. He passed a large fire that had collapsed and spread through the grass. He found them huddled behind it.

Thom was on his knees, working furiously over Merlon. His hands fluttered over the dwarf's torso, covered in blood. Outsider's shadow passed over him and he looked up fearfully, his face strained and lined. The pain in his eyes was obvious immediately.

Outsider rushed to them and slid on his knees to their side. His eyes widened as he saw the spear protruding from Merlong's stomach, slightly to the right. His shirt was soaked thoroughly and his face a pale gray. Outsider knew immediately the wound was a grievous one and he wouldn't likely survive.

But the surly dwarf stubbornly held on; fully conscious and shouting a stream of profanity and curses.

"Damned orc coward musta' been too scared of me and thrown it from afar. The son of a goblin loving, green skinned, foul smelling.." he rambled on completely oblivious that neither of them were listening.

Outsider inspected the wound more closely. "It's passed through his liver and," he rolled the dwarf over slowly and saw the spear head. "And exited through his back splitting some muscle."

Thom shook his head, not understanding the implications. "What does that mean?"

The elf took a deep breath. "It means that unless we can fully stop the internal bleeding, he is going to die. However, if we can, the liver of a dwarf will heal itself and he'll just have to slow down a bit."

Thom smiled hopefully. "Do you think you can do it?"

Outsider noticed the eagerness in the hobbit's voice and a pang of guilt struck him in the stomach.

"How ironic." he mumbled so low Thom couldn't hear. "Maybe. I've never done it before but I've seen it." He gauged Thom's reaction before he continued. "But first we have to remove the spear."

The hobbit waned nearly as much as Merlon.

"I know, I know." Outsider said gently and lowered Thom back down as he tried to stand. "Believe me; I fully understand the implications of doing this wrong. So much so that if I had my way I wouldn't be the one to do it at all; I would much rather bring him to a friend of mine."

"Who?" Thom's voice rose in pitch. Outsider shook his head and waved the thought away. "Please, Outsider, it might make the difference!" he begged, voice pleading with such sincerity even the elf with his usual indifferent attitude couldn't ignore it.

"He's a cleric, a priest of sorts that I met in my adventuring. He might be able to heal him." he explained. "But he lives several days away and I don't think Merlon has the time. Especially not at the speed we'll be going."

He looked back to Merlon and added more pressure around the wound. "Regardless, this spear has to go." He looked the hobbit hard in the eye with a steely gaze. "Thom, hold him down."

Instantly the thief shook his head and cried out in protest. "I can't, I can't, no way its possible! I'm..this..listen—"

Outsider cut him short. "If you don't, and he dies because of your ineptitude, I swear I will take you to Cain Sander in chains!" Thom seemed to shrink away from him, feeling even smaller than usual. "Now hold him down until I say stop."

The elf placed one long-fingered hand upon the dwarf's stomach and gripped the shaft just above the entry wound with the other. "It isn't barbed, so it should pull right out. But that exit wound is going to begin bleeding freely immediately. As soon as it's out, stuff this," he motioned to a small bundle of cloth laid out beside his knee. "Inside it and hold the pressure until I can bandage it. Alright?"

The hobbit seemed dazed and his eyes unfocused. Outsider slapped his across the face and saw his attention flicker. "You understand?" he reiterated.

The hobbit merely nodded and leaned forward with his arms pressed onto Merlon's torso. He squeezed shut his eyes and focused on breathing.

In and out.

Outsider gripped the spear firmly.

In and out.

Merlon screamed as the spear begin to slide free of him.

In and out in and out in and out.

Blood warmed his hands and spurted across his cheek.

In and out in and out in and out in and out in and out.

The spear came free with a sickening slurp and fell to the ground. Outsider promptly called for Thom to stuff the wound on either side, then wrapped the dwarf's bulky frame all the way around like an oversized belt. The bandage was thick but soon began to bleed through. Outsider looked to his already ribboned cloak and tore off several long strips.

Atop the bandage they appeared to hold the hemorrhaging at bay.

Thom opened his eyes which had remained shut during the entire stuffing process, perhaps making it worse as he realized Merlon's innards had felt similar to that of raw meat, and looked upon Merlon's pale face.

The only color remaining was in his salt-n-pepper beard, and even that seemed more tinged with gray and silver than he remembered. The lines creasing his forehead were less visible now as he relaxed and his cheeks sullen. His eyes swam beneath his eyelids and he could see the dwarf's pupils pressing against them as they looked about in his fever dream-like state.

Only then had his age truly seemed to have caught up with the stubborn dwarf who had battled elf, goblin, and orc for much of his life.

"Merlon?" Thom began but looked away as Outsider placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Let him rest. If he wakes, he runs more risk of going into shock upon realization of what's transpired. If that happens his heartrate will increase dramatically and he'll bleed faster." The elf shook his head. "I can't believe the dusty, old fool is still breathing. Only a dwarf could take so much and still hang on."

"Probably still wants to pick a fight, I'd wager." Thom added as he smiled at the thought.

The elf couldn't deny that. "True enough, but he won't be fighting any time soon. This will hold only temporarily. He needs medical attention or chances are he'll die of infection or blood loss."

"What're we going to do, eh?"

Outsider sighed and wiped his hands on his tattered cloak. "First, we need to get the hell out of here before these orcs find us again." He gave a shrill whistle with his fingers between his lips and motioned for Thom to follow him away from the light. He tentatively lifted Merlon and noted how the dwarf showed no awareness of it.

From their campsite, Jiff came running, hidden in the darkness with them and came to a halt at his master's side. He neighed appreciatively as his neck was rubbed to soothe his uneasiness of the flames nearby.

Outsider set Merlon upon Jiff's saddle and walked beside it with Thom following. "I'm going to gather our things and take the other horse. Go up the pass for two hours. After that, stop at the first twisted tree; there's a small inlet where you can hide." He lifted Thom and sat him atop the gelding. "I'll meet you there before morning."

Before the hobbit could respond he gave Jiff a slight push and they went off at a leisurely canter as to ease Merlon's jostling. Thom looked back in the darkness, his night vision hardly showing a sign of Outsider then losing him completely a blink later.

The bounty hunter ran through the darkness, not fearing he would be seen or heard and ignored the strange sight to his left.

***

The orcs were still gathered about Cleave Rend, but not in a defensive stance. Their posture indicated they were discussing something and had yet to come to an agreement.

"Ten gold each!" another called.

"No, twelve!"

"Why we want twelve?"

"It's more than ten!"

"No it aint!"

The skull watched them impassively, biding his time before he could break their will fully and commit them to his cause. He knew the orcs would follow him regardless of wanting pay and that he could force them to do so at any given moment. So profound was his confidence that he still stood unarmed.

But he wanted to be careful about it this time. To manipulate them so extensively they believe they actually want to go with him and desire victory in the name of Cleave Rend. So his aura slowly spread, a scentless gas like that of oil with a blackness that shone green, blending with the smoke of the dying fires perfectly.

Soon it would poison their minds and taint their hearts until they became absent of opinion and free will. Their thoughts would be his for the twisting until they had no choice other than to agree, but would believe that it was their choice. Just a few more minutes.

Everything was going according to plan.

Suddenly a battle cry tore him from his concentration and the mist dissipated. He turned abruptly and watched in stricken amazement as a score of Warriors charged into the field with weapons high and shouts to their gods.

While his hesitancy only lasted a second and he was on the move, the orcs were bewildered by the shocking turn of events this night and stood around dumbly looking to one another for an answer when the giant men collided into them.

A warhammer thudded off an orc chest; caving in its ribcage, and another hit an orc across the temple dazing it long enough for a killing blow to the head. In a frenzy, the wild men roared and struck out again and again.

But those two kills were more than enough to snap the orcs back to their senses. In the ensuing commotion, a shadow passed the fight and vanished into the darkness toward the mountains.

They hollered back and met them with equal ferocity, giving in to the primal urges both groups thrived on, hacking away at each other. The orcs had come with greater numbers but after the losses stood at thirteen strong to face the northmen of twenty. But Cleave Rend didn't take too kindly to being interrupted.

A young Warrior charged him with a great claymore over six feet long, its blade a sterling mirrored polish and the handle shaped from a great cat's fang. The blade came in low with a great whoosh that forced the demon back a step, then came around the Warrior's body to circle back and down at an angle. The blow caught Cleave Rend cleanly on the shoulder and split the warped armor he wore until the blade dug deeply and bit into his sternum.

But the skull merely laughed and gripped the sword, pulling his enemy in closer, then backhanded him so hard he flew away a dozen feet. It yanked the sword free and eyed it critically.

"This is a fine blade, boy," it graveled. "I think I shall keep it."

Dradewen stood and wiped the blood from his lip. "I think not!" he challenged. "The sword of my grandfather will not be found in the hand of a vile orc or whatever spawn you are!" He took up a pair of clubs from the dead and spun them about experimentally.

Cleave Rend nodded his approval. "I like this one. You are a brave one, boy. Foolish. But brave." He whipped the great claymore about. "Come taste the steel of your blade!"

They met with a great slam as the blade came in a cross-sweep that was knocked away with a club, then a spinning Dradewen came about with the other club and slammed it against the demon's back. Cleave Rend stumbled forward and marveled at the combination of strength and cunning in the young Warrior.

But it quickly fell to naught for he deemed this one unworthy and backpedalled with a series of wide swings that drew the young warrior into a defensive posture. Then he came high and dropped it low in a vertical chop that passed right through one of the clubs without resistance. Dradewen responded with a jab of the other that brought Cleave Rend's sword high, then hurled the shortened one which had been cut at an angle into its stomach where it impaled the demon.

The impact jarred Cleave Rend but he hardly noticed it, so great was his fury. All of his plans were coming to fruition. The meddling fool Ulgvhen had been struck down by his hand and garnered him the terror that surpassed fear; giving him the utmost respect of the tribal orcs. Even the bounty hunter had been within his reach. But he had wanted to make an example of him as he had ended up doing to Ulgvhen when the oaf had tried to kill his target.

And now the coward was surely gone and his own followers soon to be destroyed!

The anger welled up within him and he threw the sword at the young Warrior. It whistled at him with such tremendous force he was thrown clear off his feet and through the tallest fire that Cleave Rend had turned him toward until it was behind him.

Dunawar saw his son fall and roared as he had never before. He cometted into the demon and slammed his hammer into Cleave Rend's side until the monster hung over it, folded over on itself to the left. But in his blood rage Dunawar didn't notice the toll had exerted Cleave Rend's energies and left him temporarily dead as he repaired himself.

He lifted the broken body over his head, still upon the end of his warhammer, and spun on his heel repeatedly then released. The hammer, body leading, soared through the field to slam into the boulder Outsider had hidden behind prior. The body caved in, crushed, and hung from the boulder where it was impaled.

The fighting around Dunawar soon cleared as the Warriors, empowered by seeing their chief's immense display of power, and the orcs dismayed by the fall of theirs. The few beasts still breathing and capable of standing fled into the hills, several catching a spear in the back as they went.

The leader of the Warriors stood resolutely, unaware of the toll the battle had had on him and his men, and prayed to Valhus and Snowhelm. He closed his eyes and called out for them to spare his son and trade him places; life for life.

He didn't see or hear the large figure approach from behind, weapon drawn.
Chapter Eighteen: Aftermath

Outsider watched the battle in bewilderment as he made his way across the field atop the horse Merlon had oh so articulately named Horsey, camp supplies strapped across its back, and he stopped to watch a particularly amazing throw of a hammer. He shuddered at the grisly sight of the battlefield.

Among the fires, thrown in their light, were over two score of bodies; both orc and human alike. Broken and twisted the corpses were strewn about in patches of blood that had yet to soak through the frozen ground. Even the weapons had an ominous haze about them. The way they were dropped and forgotten; abandoned, and covered in gore; they reminded him of impromptu tombstones without a grave to call home.

He sped along then to avoid any interference of the Warriors for he believed them to be the very tribe searching for their legendary blade. The legendary blade strapped to the side of his chest.

He pondered how they had found the orcs. They had kept far from towns and pushed through weather that kept everyone else inside. Yet they had appeared exactly the night the battle was to be had.

Perhaps it wasn't the orcs they had been following.

He shook his head at the thought. They had been hidden for too long and too well to have been tracked. He had stood guard every night and scouted leagues out in the darkness to search for intruders.

Yet it seemed the most likely reasoning.

The image of Merlon's grave face brought him back to his senses and he sped Horsey on faster.

***

Dradewen slapped his father on the shoulder and embraced him tightly. Dunawar's eyes widened in shock and he leapt back, fearful it was a trick of the orcs. He inspected the tall, youth. The long dark hair was shorter in some places now from catching fire and he had several bruises and burns about him and his clothes. In his hand was his father's sword, Dradewen's grandfather, who had killed a saber cat alpha to craft. And those raven eyes that seemed to bore into his soul stared back at him. It was indeed his son.

"Ye've returned to me!" he cried and squeezed Dradewen in a tight hug, then pushed him away. "What in the nine hells happened? I saw you fall."

The young warrior laughed and looked pointedly at the claymore in his hand. "The sword struck only my club, but the throw was enough to send me with it. I rolled from the flames but found my wind gone." he shrugged. "What happened to it?"

Dunawar pointed to the boulder where the hammer holding the shattered remains stood fast. "Not sure if I'll ever get that hammer back." he roared and laughed, motioning for his son to follow him over to it.

Cracks like a spiderweb surrounded the hammer and its target, which resembled nothing like that of a body anymore, and only that of twisted metal holding some disfigured hunks of flesh and bone. The head of the hammer was completely out of sight and within the stone with several inches of the handle going into Cleave Rend's chest.

"You sent it straight through the beast!" Dradewen exclaimed. "Your hammer needs a name now."

Dunawar shook his head. "Naming a hammer? What're you some kind of girl?"

The young Warrior shrugged and decided to give the imbedded weapon a pull. His great muscles strained until his face and arms were flushed red but it budged not an inch. He shivered in the night as the winter winds blew down on him and frosted over the sheen sweat upon his brow and neck.

He turned from the hammer and aided those packing up the wounded and dead for travel. They were to leave tonight back for the town as to catch any who had escaped along the way home. He relished the thought and slid the claymore into its sling along his back, imagining it was an orc attempting to sneak up on him.

***

Horsey went up the slope of the pass slowly on the uneven ground. Rocks skidded beneath its hooves and tumbled down the climb. Though it wasn't steep, Outsider made no move to press their pace. He could sense the horse's uneasiness and didn't want to stress it and cause it to panic, bolt, or just break an ankle. He patted its neck gingerly and whispered to it reassuringly.

He leaned forward in the saddle to assist its balance by keeping himself aligned and low, and rested his head on the soft, wiry, mane. He watched the trees pass by as they ascended, their trunks growing thicker and their branches taller. They seemed to swell before his very eyes so sudden was the change. Even the air had become different.

It was definitely colder, more chilled and smelled fresh, as if the air here had never been breathed before. The heavy aroma of pine and earthy dirt filled his nostrils and brought a pleasant lull to his mind and body. Sitting there in the saddle among the quiet mountains he realized how busy he had been constantly without reprieve.

He closed his eyes and let the slight rise and fall of Horsey's gait set him adrift into the trancelike dreams he called sleep. The saddle beneath him fell away and he became weightless, floating up and up through the mountains to soar with the clouds.

Birds flew past with their brilliantly colored wings in a rainbow of alluring hues, illuminated in the scintillating rays of light that occasionally shone between clouds. He watched them go and stroked one lightly with the flat of his hand, then marveled at its smooth texture like a thousand strands of silk combined onto a single seam for every feather.

Then the sun emerged and stung his eyes like fire. The searing pain shot through his corneas and he swatted away the needles he was sure were stabbing him. Blinded and disoriented, he plummeted from his flight into a freefall. The cold air whipped past him with a shrill whistle that continued to grow and grow more intense.

Unable to see, he could only fear when the ground would rise up and he would be no more; splattering across it. So he listened intently as he tried to repair his devastated vision. The high pitched keen of his drop was at a climax now, so powerful it hurt his ears to the point they felt ready to burst. He realized it wasn't his falling making that noise but actually someone screaming. A woman screaming out for him.

For him?

To him.

His true name. The name he couldn't remember and now was washed out by the whirling patterns of the northern gales that assaulted him on his way down. How high had he been?

He covered his ears against the noise to hear her voice.

His mother's voice.

To learn his true name.

But the clamor exploded then into a cacophony of screaming and he heard now another voice paralleling it.

His father's.

Both called out to him with words he couldn't discern.

He struggled against the weights upon his eyelids, made all the more difficult by the stinging burn, but finally managed to open his eyes just in time to see he had fallen past the surface and into the darkness below.

Into the Shadowverse.

A thousand pair of dark eyes stared up at him just before he hit.

He jolted awake and to his relief opened his eyes. He was still atop Horsey, still making their way through the Pilgrimage Pass, and still alive. He startled himself to find Darkbane already in hand, blade illuminated like the purest ice.

Its light stung at his eyes in the darkness and reminded him of the overzealous sun in his dreams, so he sheathed it beneath his arm and made sure the folds of his cloak were tucked over it. He shook his head at the comparison and his illogical reaction.

It was then he realized how far he had come and that the twisted tree marking the small clearing he had found years prior would be coming up soon. He sat up straight in the saddle and stretched his arms with a groan. The hours sleeping upon a horse hadn't been the most comfortable.

But not the most uncomfortable either, he reflected.

He took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air and sought out the tree. All about the dirt path they now rode on were trees of all shapes and sizes; more species than even he, as a hunter, knew. He watched the conglomerate of foliage in its shades of green, red, orange, yellow, and everything in between as winter held on tight to the climate. Snow fell this high in small flurries that swirled on the wind and deposited on the ground in patches around the trees and upon their intertwining branches.

He at last spotted the twisted tree as he came around a bend in the path. It was a tall black oak, its entire length spiraled into a helix that leaned far to the right, sheltering the little inlet behind it as well as hiding it from view. He had long ago checked the security of the tree to assure it wouldn't become uprooted then collapse and found it was secure in its structure as well as very much alive. Even now he noticed several white buds that had yet to wilt and fall away on the breeze.

He descended from Horsey and stretched out his long legs with an audible pop. Sighing, he led the horse around the tree and into the clearing he had named the Hidden Grove.

It was a small area, no more than twenty feet across in roughly a circular perimeter. Trees surrounded it on all sides aside from two exits where the trees were wide enough to pass through with a steed, but too low if you tried to ride in. The grass was short and never seemed to grow due to the near-constant shade it was bathed in year round.

Thom was sitting there near the center, Merlon lying beside him still asleep. Jiff neighed in welcome and tugged at his reins that were strapped to a tree. Outsider patted the gelding then and placed Horsey beside him.

"What happened?" Thom asked as Outsider approached and crouched over the unconscious dwarf. "How did the battle end?"

The elf shrugged. "A group of Warriors appeared and decimated the orcs. Even the one with the skull; though I doubt it is truly dead."

The hobbit stared incredulously at him. "Warriors? From where?"

"I think I recognized your friend from the tavern."

"Fantastic." the hobbit replied sarcastically. "Why don't you just give them the dagger?" he said, his voice going up an octave. "Then they'll have no reason to come after us."

But Outsider was already shaking his head. "You stole from them. Not to mention it's a legendary weapon worth a fortune. Warriors are a traditional people with generations of culture to call upon. And thievery to them is punishable by death. They would just accept the blade then stab you with it."

Thom stared down at the ground and his troubled face showed his inner turmoil. Outsider looked down upon him and knew with morale so low they wouldn't last long.

"However I don't think they would follow us far from their town. It would be too much of a risk that they would lose their hold to the dwarves there."

That seemed to cheer up the thief a little. But his mood soon faltered as he looked upon Merlon. The dwarf's face remained a pale gray that seemed less of a color somehow, like the hues had simply vanished from his flesh, and deep bruising around his eyes shone a dull purple. His lips were chapped and resembled paper torn in several places.

Outsider inspected the wound and found the bandages to have held, but they would need changing soon. He cursed under his breath as he realized they were out of such medical supplies.

He stood up straight suddenly, eyes wide.

"What are you—"Thom began but the bounty hunter walked off without a word. The hobbit watched him as he leapt up a tree, and using only his arms, disappeared into its thick leafy boughs. A few moments later he dropped lightly upon the balls of his feet with a bag in hand.

He pulled the drawstring loose and reached inside, removing a length of aged bandage, a vial of ointment he had made from aloe leaves, rope, and a bundle of rations he wouldn't eat unless absolutely necessary.

"Where'd you get that?" The hobbit blurted unable to hide his curiosity. He feared he would be reprimanded for asking so many questions but the bounty hunter didn't seem bothered and shrugged as he began unwrapping Merlon's wound.

"I stashed it there years ago while hiding from a patrol. Guess I knew I'd need it eventually." He bit his lip as he peeled off the final layer. Coagulated blood stuck to it and even tugging it free as gingerly as he could caused fresh blood to ooze from the puncture. He opened the vial, sniffed it to ensure its quality, and poured the thick salve onto the wound before wrapping it up tight.

"What was that stuff you put on him? It smelled sort of minty."

"A paste of aloe leaves to ease pain and lower inflammation. It'll help keep the wound from infection." Outsider informed him. He eyed his handiwork a moment then decided it would suffice.

He wiped the blood from his hands on the grass then in a patch of snow until they were clean then wrapped his thickest blanket around Merlon. The dwarf's face seemed calmer now and perhaps he was minutely aware of the lessening of the sting. Thom stared at the dwarf a second longer then acknowledged it was all they could do for him.

"You think he's gonna make it?" he asked as monotone as he could to mask the eager hope in his voice.

They were silent a long while as Outsider considered the possibilities and their current situation. He knew the dwarf was a tough one, surely made from the rock he loved, and they had gotten to him quickly.

But he was getting on in years and they lacked the thorough knowledge on dealing with such grievous wounds he believed would be instrumental in saving him. Yet he couldn't deny the tiny fragment of optimism, a dangerous thing he usually avoided, present in his consciousness.

"Perhaps." he answered at last, deigning not to go on as Thom had expected of him. He leaned back against Jiff's side, who was lying beside him, and rested not his body this time but his mind; the horse's powerful heartbeat steadying him into a rhythm his mind followed to ease through ideas and options thoroughly without rushing to meet imaginary time constraints.

***

Just minutes after the battle had ended, the northmen departed to track down any surviving orcs and make their way home, and Dunawar stayed back with his son to try and retrieve his hammer one last time. He had had it for decades and wasn't about to leave it behind now. Spitting in his hands, he took hold of the handle smoothed by years of use and pulled with all his might, foot against the stone.

His mighty arms bulged and turned bright red. His face followed suit and beaded with perspiration as he grit his teeth and scowled. The lines of his aging face shown more clearly then and his chest shuddered beneath the exertion.

He released and slumped against the boulder and sucked in a deep, steadying breath. He shook his head and slapped the stone. "I'm getting old, Dradewen." he laughed self depreciatingly. "'Fore long I won't be able to even lift the durned thing."

"That is, if we ever get it back." the young Warrior added ruefully. He stepped up and slapped his hands together then wrapped them around the hammer's length. Dunawar stood passively beside him and watched his son.

Dradewen's arms swelled massively and his face soon looked like his father's. His neck was spiderwebbed with veins that stood in bright blues and greens beneath his jaw that was set determinedly in a square. He focused solely on the weapon before him and placed his footing accordingly to make up for the lack of fulcrum, then resumed pulling even harder; heaving back with his legs as if trying to walk away with it.

The hammer held fast as his chest began to rise and fall rapidly in shallow breaths and his arms began to quiver. But he remained steadfast and continued his test. For to him, this was a chance to prove his manhood and rise as something more to his father and to the tribe. Despite his aptitude in the art of battle and his feats of strength, he was still looked down upon for his mixed heritage and age; he was nearly upon his sixteenth winter; not yet a man, and seen only as the spoiled son of the chief who didn't fit in.

He would prove them wrong.

He would prove them all wrong!

With a shout to his gods, he gripped the hammer lower and with tremendous effort that dropped him to his knees, pulled the hammer free in a shower or rock and dust, leaving a crater in the boulder as a reminder of their power.

Dunawar clapped his hands together in surprise and stared at Dradewen, seeing him in a new light, just as his son had hoped. He lifted him to his feet and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You did it, boy!" he cried. "I knew you could do it! Now you're ready to become a true warrior. In our next campaign after the fools who stole our dagger, I want you to lead the expedition! I'm sure that dark elf can find them again and lead us to them no problem."

Dradewen's wide smile faltered. "Father, do you not think it to be a waste of time and resources? I mean, it is only one dagger, and surely they couldn't have escaped such a force unscathed."

The chief looked at him, at a loss for words, and gripped his shoulder tighter. "So wise ye be." He shook his head slightly. "Just like your mother."

He knew his father rarely brought her up since her death last winter and this must really mean something to him.

"Alright." Dunawar said after a pause. "We let them go, tell the whole city they fled their own home across the country in fear of our might just before we decimated the orc tribe!" He smiled and flexed slightly. "But if they come back..." He grinned all the more and let the threat fall there. Dradewen nodded in agreement and handed his father his mighty warhammer with a slight bow.

The chief accepted it and they shook hands.

A stirring behind them caught their attention. They turned about to watch the writhing form of the broken body, deformed beyond recognition and nigh destroyed, twist itself upright. Then in jarring, unnatural movements, pop its joints back into sockets and reset broken bones.

Last of all, the skull came upright from where it had touched its own back, and cried out a howl of glee. It rushed forward with inhuman and inorc speed and lifted both of them by their throats, squeezing the breath from their lungs

"How fortunate of you two to be the ones that would be here during my resurrection!" It smiled inwardly and laughed a cackling that sounded like bones crackling in a fire. "I applaud you, oh great chief, for your prowess. And you, young warrior, for your ability to survive. But your road ends here."

The two fighters struck out at the demon but soon the pressure on their throats became too much. Dunawar became light headed and dropped his hammer, the weight too much and his grip vanished. Dradewen had likewise been incapacitated and now colors swam before his eyes.

Faces purple they began to slip into the dark veil of unconsciousness, already exhausted from the strain of battle and removing the imbedded hammer. The two watched each other in a depressed acceptance.

Then they heard something whistle past and Cleave Rend screamed the most horrifying wail they had ever heard. An agonized cry wrought of terror to rival that of a banshee that sent shivers down their spines and rattled their organs. Its intensity grew as they were dropped to the ground. Dradewen was the first to open his eyes against the immense weight.

A gleaming black axe, darker than the night around them and glowing slightly with a sickening green similar to poison, protruded from the demon's back and clean through its chest. The vast majority of the head had passed through the hole in its armor left in Dunawar's wake, and sheared through the bone.

Its spine was snapped and stuck out in two pieces, replaced in the center by the razor edge of Cleave Rend's axe.

The skull cried out louder then went silent as its body began to decompose into ash, the very edges of its innards glowing like embers and dissolving. The charred head turned to regard its killer before it would disappear completely.

Ulgvhen, gaping chest wound gushing his lifeblood from where the axe had been, smiled until his last breath whispered through his lips: "Uvrikh."

Cleave Rend folded in on itself; hollow, and shuddered until the remnants of the warped armor fell to the ground in a cloud of dust. The axe lay within the remains, still glowing faintly.

The Warriors stared at each other in amazement.

***

"I have a plan." Outsider said after his nap, striding over to Thom and Merlon. He crouched low and checked the dwarf's faint heartbeat on the side of his neck. The hobbit stirred from his sleep and rolled over.

"What?" he yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm going to Briggand Sails to find my cleric friend and bring him back." the elf replied at once, sure, completely decided. "It'll be faster this way with only me on the road."

"And what are we to do?" Thom asked exasperated. "Am I to just sit here to twiddle my thumbs and hope no one finds us? And what if he takes a turn for the worse?" He looked to the prone form of Merlon. "I don't know how to help him at all!"

Outsider stared hard at him beneath his hood and the hobbit fell silent, instantly afraid. He remembered his place in the group as he was, and technically still is, a prisoner. He held his tongue and listened respectfully.

"Merlon isn't going to make it without his help. And I can't bring either of you because it would take far too long." He cleared away a patch of grass and drew a small diagram in the soil. "This is us, on the pass." He drew a long, by ratio at least, winding line from the square representing them that ended in a circle. "That's Cain Sander, and this," he drew another circle a little further away, "Is Briggand Sails.

"If you were to accompany me, it would take several tendays at the least. He would never survive that. It's perilous enough just to move him, let alone ride. And if he did, the pace would be a crawl."

Thom nodded as he saw the undeniable logic.

"I can be there and back within a single tenday, weather permitting." the elf finished and leaned back from the patch of dirt. Thom still watched him reluctantly. The hobbit opened his mouth to argue but Outsider cut him short. "You know, if you were to go. I could always just stop by Cain Sander on the way and turn you in for that bounty."

Thom shut his mouth, rolled over, and promptly went back to sleep.

***

The hooded figure leaned back in his chair and stroked his hands together. His scout had finally returned with news of the battle and he was anxious to hear of his plan's success or failure.

He had the utmost certainty it went off without a hitch, for Blaine himself had been his negotiator, and the dark elf wasn't one to banter words. And while he didn't trust the bounty hunter, he knew enough of his business style to afford a comfortable partnership that as long as they remained a mutual beneficiary, he would not betray him.

He rubbed his hands together again at the thought.

A knock on the door and a voice called for entry, awaiting his permission. He waited a few seconds to show his superiority then announced his okay. The scout came in slowly and saluted before standing on the opposite side of the desk between them.

"Sir, I've news of the battle."

The hooded figure nodded and motioned for him to continue.

"Chief Dunawar and his tribe were successful in destroying the orcs and with minimal casualties." he spoke quickly. "The orc chief was killed as well."

The hooded figure smiled and sat forward in his chair. "Did they retrieve the axe?"

The scout nodded the affirmative. "Yes sir, Dunawar himself struck down the beast and took the axe as trophy."

"Good." He rubbed his hands together absentmindedly. "When shall they return?"

"This very night they have set out for Rusk, sir. Though they have decided to hunt down any orc trails they may pass along the way."

A minor nuisance but nothing patience wouldn't absolve. He nodded and waved his hand at the scout for him to take his leave. The man saluted then executed an about face but halted at the command.

"One last thing." the hooded figure called. "How did the portal work?"

The scout shrugged nervously and stuttered over his words. "Well, it, the portal I mean, it uh, it worked." He smiled reassuringly but couldn't keep the fear from his eyes.

"Permission to speak freely." he ordered the scout more than suggested.

The man lowered his eyes and shifted uncomfortably. "Well. It, it got me here in an instant. But, I feel..sick. Unfocused and dizzy. I can't..think straight."

The hooded figure nodded and pointed to the door. Flustered, the scout left the room, leaving him to his thoughts.

"Everything's going according to plan." he remarked with a chuckle. He stared at the jade ring on his finger and couldn't help but grin as he regarded the intricately carved glyphs upon it that resembled a stone in their shape. A few moments later he heard a commotion downstairs as the scout dropped dead and the others rushed to his aid.

He could picture the scene and knew the cause to be his wondrous ring. It could replicate itself, sharing its wondrous ability to create portals in which one could travel simply by focusing on their desired destination. The copies even disappeared after a single use to afford him extra security.

Unfortunately for the scout, the false rings were powered by the wearer's life force, a substantial drain, which then transmitted into the original ring and empowered it so he could use it without harm. It didn't allow him much in the way of teamwork but kept him securely on top; a sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands together again. "Everything's going according to plan."
Chapter Nineteen: Departure

The following morning, Outsider set out at dawn. He had shown Thom how to bandage a wound and apply the remaining salve without opening the scab and assured him he could handle it.

"If he does wake up, get some food in him if you can. If not, make sure he drinks plenty of water." he had told the hobbit before leaving, a freshly shot deer field dressed and hanging from a tree. "There's more than enough there for the two of you to last while I'm gone and the fire's been hidden in a pit. So whatever you do, don't leave the clearing."

Thom nodded and put up a brave front which Outsider easily saw through. He appreciated the façade however and didn't let on he had realized what Thom was doing. Instead, they shook hands and he had left without a word.

Now he and Jiff were flying through the pass. Trees and boulders flashed by so quickly he only paid attention to the changing of colors as the mountain terrain became less wild. He had left the forest behind and was quickly moving into the valley that marked the halfway point of the Pilgrimage Pass. The flora seemed to shrink until nothing but shrubbery and cacti dotted the grassy landscape.

The flowers swayed in the rolling breeze that passed through the mountain peaks to sweep low into the gorge. He watched the mesmerizing waves flutter up and down in an endless tide. Up here between the summit and the base with the lack of mountain walls, the wind never ceased and howled between the rocks; hence, its name the Wailing Dale.

Outsider breathed deeply of the crisp air and pressed his heels into Jiff's side to go even faster. He had trained extensively in horseback riding and had found it to be one of his favorite experiences. They galloped through the dale on the curving trail, kicking up soft soil full of seed that muffled the fall of his hooves and eased the jarring that accompanied a full gallop.

As such, they made excellent time, traversing over a dozen leagues that morning alone.

His thoughts turned to what he knew of the area, reminding himself of the terrain and the climate changes through the mountains. The Pilgrimage Pass was renowned for its superb topography and numerous ecosystems located within one area.

By the time the sun had climbed into the sky they were making their descent along the Sidewinder Ridge named for its zigzagging down the mountain face itself. The dwarves had long ago carved the lane into the rock as a ramp that ran back and forth for miles until it reached the ground. While it took a few hours to make way down it, for a straight ramp would have been impossibly steep, it saved them a day's ride having to parallel the mountain's edge until they came to the climb that steadily sloped down to the flat land of the northwest; a region called Ridge Country.

Here the weather remained near constant all year long. It was far enough from the north to avoid the blizzards but still remained chilly enough to call for a similar lifestyle of spending the year preparing for winter. The cold season brought the only change in which sleet would fall in sheets for days on end. However the terrain here afforded them a luxury the north lacked.

The frozen lands back across the mountain range were known for their forests and hill covered plains, meanwhile this area was known for its flat stretches of grassland reaching further than the eye could see. Yet they weren't truly flat at all. The land broke and fell several feet every couple of leagues, creating the ridges that lined the region in a stair-like pattern.

Always resourceful, the first settlers here had been dwarves from the range nearby, who had carved houses into the ridges, giving them extra security against the weather and temperature drops. Their entire social structure had even built upon it; giving those with the most money and power the homes within the tallest folds of the earth and therefore the most resistant.

Already his keen elven eyes could see the many levels of the land and noticed several larger creases where great doors of heavy oak were visible. With a laugh he had even seen livestock penned around the little habitats within the shallow gullies between the ridges.

What a curious way of living, he thought for not the first time though he had only been here once before for any longer than a day. Living within a hole in the ground like an animal. Then he thought back to the viciousness he had seen in man and elf alike through his life and found it suiting. I guess we're all animals.

He liked that.

He had always thought of himself as someone who had once been prey, but had fought his way out and escaped; now leaving him a hunter not by destiny but of his own volition.

He smiled to himself beneath his hood, which was now pulled close and low, and slowed Jiff to a trot as they passed through the little town of earth homes named Multitier, for the multiple tiers of the land and their people. He found the name uncreative but undoubtedly fitting.

Many faces peeked out at him as he trotted past. Several doors slammed shut and deadbolts were slid home after he had come near. Stoically, he ignored it, knowing they couldn't tell his race and it was just the typical uneasiness of having a stranger in town. Yet he couldn't help but remain on guard.

Growing up as he did he was always prepared for action and kept the knives sheathed on his wrists slightly loosened to throw.

A large man stepped in front of Jiff and held up his hands to stop the newcomer short. His arms were thick with muscle from a lifetime of blacksmithing and his face weathered from years at the forge. His bright green eyes were clear and showed a light of wisdom uncommon in such parts.

"What brings ya' here stranguh?" he asked with an accent that turned his words up with thick consonants.

"Just passing through," Outsider replied, well versed in the art of seclusion.

The man nodded and crossed his arms but made no move. "Aye, I've heard that before. Where to is it yer going?"

Without missing a beat, the bounty hunter replied smoothly. "Got a job guarding a caravan in Cain Sander that starts in a few days. Trying to get settled there before the snows come."

The man nodded again. "Seems reasonable enough that. Just be on your way, stranguh, we don't want no trouble heyuh." His face remained serious as he stepped aside to watch him go. Outsider nodded and did just that.

The strange little town behind him, he hit the open range with the sun ahead, due west. He kept a steady gait for Jiff, getting off to walk then getting back on to ride in hour long intervals. They pushed on through the rest of the day and much of the night until he found an inlet where he and Jiff could camp.

The next morning found them hoofing it across the ridged plains with their destination in sight. A long rope bridge spanned the length of a canyon, swaying in the strong gusts of wind that assailed the crevice. Already Outsider was formulating his plan for getting Jiff across it again.

Before, on his way to Rusk to capture Thom, he had gone the long way around to where the canyon had closed. But now he didn't have the time. He could picture Merlon's pale face, his mortal peril as his chest heaved, gasping for breath.

He steeled his resolve when he came to the bridge.

"Alright boy," He stroked the gelding's neck, sensing his uneasiness. He gave it an apple and scratched it behind the ear where he liked it. He soothed Jiff for a few minutes, whispering praise and confidence to him.

Then he stepped out onto the bridge and ran across the entire thing, feeling for any weak boards beneath his soft soled boots. They creaked and flexed slightly beneath him but not a single one gave in too much to alarm him. Satisfied, he slowly led Jiff out and onto it.

Instantly the gelding reared back and pulled away. His dark eyes were wide and he whinnied in distress. Outsider gripped the sides of his snout and put his forehead to Jiff's, staring into his eyes and whispering.

Hesitantly, Jiff followed him along the bridge, being sure to keep the heavy horse's hooves on separate boards so the weight would be distributed. Together they began to cross just as the wind picked up. The rope bridge swayed back and forth in a rocking motion and the ropes strained audibly. Outsider leaned over the side to look at the drop, gauging whether or not they could survive it.

What he found did not bode well for it. A small river wound its way down the rocky ground, surrounded by sheer cliff faces. However in this time of the year the river was partially frozen and rainfall had been scarce. In the spring, he knew, the river would swell with all the melted snow and ice that would trickle into it. For now, he would just have to ensure they didn't fall.

Tugging on the reins and moving forward one step at a time, he led the reluctant gelding across who took off running as soon as they touched ground. Sharing the sentiment, Outsider sat beneath a tree and waited for him to come back of his own accord.

The next two days passed in a monotonous drone of hoofbeats. The landscape remained the same dreary mass of low grass and flat landscape. All distinction and details of the trip were lost to him as he focused solely on reaching Briggand Sails.

So detached was he that when Cain Sander appeared to his right he hardly noticed it. When he did he gave an exasperated sigh and instead steered to the path on the left of the great city to go around it. As much as he wanted to indulge in the little luxuries he could get such as a soft bed and warm food, he knew he didn't have the most important luxury of time.

So he passed its great wall, made of a bright white stone that reflected what little sun was showing, and soon left it behind. He couldn't help but feel a grimace within, as he typically kept emotions from his face, and acknowledged it was of no validity. He was avoiding such things for Merlon. For his friend.

His friend.

A peculiar emotion washed over him, one he didn't quite understand. Instantly his mind took him back to the incident that had brought him to the flat of his back. The incident in which he had realized his current life was nothing more than a repeat of his early non-life; unintentionally enacting the revenge he desired for his "family" on those society had deemed unworthy. The incident in which he had decided he would not be nothing more than a tool or a weapon for hire; a blade for someone else's will to be lived.

The incident in which some part of him had died.

He decided he would mull that over later and pushed those contemplative thoughts away. He had a present matter to attend to. He racked his brain for information to remember his friend's last known whereabouts and how he would convince him to come along for such an extensive travel.

Last I heard he was working on a new spell within the chapel of Briggand Sails, saying he had learned a new way of gaining favor in the eyes of his god, Reiin. Then he had gone off to do just that, leaving me to finish our quest of ridding the town of vampires with the eccentric Reginald Quadrillionus, the mage and tinkerer who has a tower there.

Incidentally they had used his focus ray invention to multiply the enhanced sunlight he made to destroy them and the houses they were hiding in. But now, nearly two years later, he knew the town had been rebuilt and found success as a place for the arcane and knowledge under the watchful eye of Reginald.

Hence the large chapel/library he now lived and studied in.

That's just like him. To hide away in his books and learn all he can in the hopes of achieving the power he craves. Thank the gods he's perhaps the most congenial spellcaster I've yet met; always one to avoid a struggle and having a severe aversion to conflict.

'Course he was always one to learn the oddest things and spend plenty of time telling of them. Such as the time he had learned a spell that could that would either allow him to heal someone or, if he miscalculated, finish them off if already wounded. Not to mention the fact he loved to cook yet rarely made anything worth eating.

Remembering the cleric's strange ways and unusual lifestyle, he was in more of a rush to find him than he would have preferred. But he couldn't deny he was the closest friend and ally he had ever had, having adventured with him for quite some time.

Suddenly he found himself feeling lighter, faster, as he bade Jiff into a gallop.

What better way to aid a friend than with a friend?
Chapter Twenty: "The littlest city of big knowledge"

"Oh not again!" he cried as his spell malfunctioned and sent shadow exploding into the room. He muttered under his breath and illuminated the room with a ball of light in his palm that he cast to the ceiling where it remained and deteriorated the enchanted darkness. He scratched his balding head with a fat finger. "Hmm, really thought I had it that time."

He turned back to his desk and the pile of books, scrolls, bits and pieces of numerous ingredients he had used over the years, for it had been the same number of years since he last cleaned his room, and artifacts of great power. At least, he thought they had great power.

They probably have great power. He had yet to find out.

The light and shadow contrast about his room hid most of it in a strange tone of gray and made it seem old, rustic. He liked the look and using a ladder, engraved a glyph on the ceiling to make the spells permanent. With a satisfied nod, he climbed down and looked about his little room; literally in a new light.

It was circular in shape and not by accident. Set into the floor were runes, glyphs, and spells to ensure his protection in summoning; the utmost security one would need when dealing with creatures of the Pit. Surrounding that was his bed, a wooden frame and short mattress laden with thick, cushy blankets. And how he loved that bed! Across from his beloved was a tall shelf packed to the brim with books and tomes in several languages he couldn't read and several he could, on topics ranging from the local flora and fauna to the many ways one could cook a meal so wonderful it could vanquish evil beings.

Amid this was his desk, buried beneath his numerous belongings, a large rectangular structure with a single large drawer on each side; enchanted to hold impossible volumes. This was his prized possession and his daily friend, positioned along the back wall so he could see the entirety of the room when sitting.

He skimmed over the tome one more time and laughed as he noticed his mistake.

"Ah! I added six times the amount of shadow I was supposed to and not nearly enough fire!" He guffawed loudly and laid out another blank scroll. "Silly me." Then he pulled back the sleeves of his robes and clapped his clammy hands together.

Just as he raised his hands to cast a spell there was a knock at his door. It was enchanted heavily to deny entry to any without permission, impenetrable to all but the most powerful of magics, and blocked all sound from his room to the outside unless he wanted to be heard.

"Yes?" he called. As soon as he did, his intent apparent, the door became transparent on his side only and allowed to him see his visitor without their knowing.

A tall, gangly boy he had seen numerous times the last two years and still didn't recognize was there, clothing showing his entry position in the chapel. His reedy voice was high and made everything sound like a question, quickly irritating the cleric.

Perhaps he would allow me to change his voice, he mused hopefully and slipped off into his thoughts as the boy spoke. Fully a minute later he realized the boy was still there and awaiting a response. Quick to be embarrassed, he hurriedly shouted yes and prayed it would suffice to the question.

Luck was on his side that day as the boy nodded and went off at once. The cleric nodded and turned away from the door, which had turned opaque once more, and smoothed out his blank parchment with the flat of his hands. He cleared his throat, froze, and then realized he had forgotten what he was attempting. A quick skim of the tome reminded him.

"Oh yes! That's right." Attention captured, he pulled back his sleeves and clapped his hands together in preparation. Focused solely on the experiment and caught up in the enticement it offered, he called for the power of his god, Reiin, the god of knowledge. With a powerful pulse of energy from his deity, he unleashed his spells onto the blank scroll.

If not for his door's enchantment all outside would have heard the ensuing explosion and his exasperated shouting.

Not a second later a knock came to his door. Unable to see through the second bout of shadow he had inadvertently unleashed, he couldn't see through the clear door, merely throwing it open with a gasp to clear the air in his room of the smoke and darkness.

His visitor groaned loudly at the sight and the cleric turned on him angrily.

"And who are you to complain, boy?" He grit his teeth and tried to wipe the soot from his face with even dirtier hands which only accomplished darkening his complexion further. "Like to see you attempt to perform such a complicated spell!"

"If I were to, I can verily promise you it would not backfire such as yours." the visitor responded immediately. "'Course magic was never really my forte so it probably wouldn't go off in the first place."

The strong voice of his visitor struck a note in his mind. A voice he had heard before. He scratched his head again and used his sleeve to wipe the grimy ash from his eyes and glasses. Blinking several times then squinting, he looked up at the tall form before him.

"Outsider!" he shouted and smiled a toothy grin that showed his pink gums even beneath his bushy brown beard. "How long's it been? About six months?"

Outsider shook his hand then wiped the soot on his cloak. "Try two years."

The cleric shrugged. "Ah well, age is just a number am I right? What've you been up to?"

"Perhaps for those like us with extended lifespans, good dwarf." Outsider replied. "I've been out and about to find my fortune in bounties. But I've come for your assistance."

The cleric eyed him through his filthy glasses and his thick eyebrows rose in an expression that sorely reminded him of Merlon. "What kind of assistance, elf? 'Cause I aint fightin' no more vampires and demented knights!" He bristled at the thought. "I still can't get the smell of burnt hair out of me nostrils."

Outsider assured him it was nothing of the sort. "Not at all, it's my friend, a dwarf like yourself. He's near death and needs immediate medical attention. I thought if anyone could heal him it would be you."

The cleric puffed out his chest slightly and smiled a cocky grin. Outsider knew a stroke of the ego would do the trick. "Well, my healing is renowned 'round these parts, if I do say so myself." the dwarf boasted. "Just gimme' a day or two to pack up my stuff and we'll head out, I've nearly finished my spell."

Outsider's incredulous glare was not lost on him. "Oh, I can tell." he stated with dripping sarcasm. "But we don't have a day or two. He took a spear through the liver and it's already been four days." He saw the reluctance in the dwarf's eyes. "I've rode day and night to get here so quickly; to save him.

"So you can save him."

Defeated, the dwarf cleric sighed and nodded his bearded head, bald spot glinting in the light of the floating chandeliers. "Alright, elf. We'll head out at once, just gimme' an hour to pack."

Outsider agreed and left his old friend to gather his various ingredients and items. He knew how many things spellcasters required and made his way outside from the chapel, pacing back and forth outside within the tall building's shade. The architecture was like that of the ancient dwarves with pillars and great doors as tall as a giant made out of bronze. Gargoyles and other statues were crafted out of the very stone of the roof and gave the chapel an ominous, gothic look.

In a way it reminded him of the dark elven houses below and he shuddered, thankful he was in the open. An impatient hour that seemed to crawl by on hands and knees passed and a moment later the cleric emerged through the heavy doors, an enormous pack as big as he was on his back with smaller packs dangling off of it. He strode forward with a wide smile and a terrible racket.

"'Bout time I got outside I suppose; been gettin' a little soft 'round the edges if you catch my meaning." He laughed and shifted his eyes. Outsider stared at him unblinkingly and gradually he gave in. "Alright, fine! The elders...heavily suggested I leave and not come back until my spell is finished! Satisfied?"

The elf ignored the remark and changed the subject. "But why do you have such a large pack? Don't you clerics have those enchanted capacity bags or whatever they're called?"

He shook his head and shrugged then nodded. "Well, we do. But. Last time I tried the spell it didn't.." He scratched his head and shuffled his feet. "I don't do it anymore."

Outsider wisely contained a laugh and stroked his chin. "Fair enough, but do you really need so much stuff?"

The dwarf looked offended as if he had just been slapped and spat on. "Of course I do! This is the littlest city of big knowledge my friend. I have learned much since last we met and this," he motioned to the heavy pack on his back. "Is only some of the requirements for such. Just wait, Outsider, once you see it you'll realize it's a small price to pay."

"Sure." Outsider looked about as he called Jiff with a shrill whistle. Briggand Sails looked much the same as before, with all the shops and houses built into a single, long line that paralleled the dirt path before it. The only discernible difference was the lack of black paint that reflected no light upon all the buildings. Now they came in a rainbow of blues, greens, and yellows, with some of the houses their natural wood tone.

Still celebrating the fact the vampires are long gone I suppose.

As the gelding approached, Outsider looked to his friend who still stood passively. "Where's your horse? You don't plan to walk all the way there do you?"

The cleric smiled smugly and shook his head. "You don't plan to ride all the way there do you?" The blank expression on the elf's face was all the answer he needed. "You said this was an urgent matter with no time to spare. So, I took the liberty of making this."

He rummaged around in his deep pocket and removed a small, unremarkable stone. Its surface was rough and porous with a faint green color. Outsider looked at it with a hint of worry.

"And that is?"

The cleric laughed and tossed the stone in the air before catching it. "This, my friend, is a dweomer stone. It allows me to boost the range of my tree transfer."

Outsider faintly remembered something by that name. He looked back to their past career together when it struck him. "You mean that thing where you walk into—"

"The very same! Now, follow me." he instructed and set off immediately past the chapel. Outsider pulled Jiff along behind and followed the dwarf to a large tree placed to the side of a small hillock. "Take my hand and don't let go of your horse whatever you do." He closed his eyes in concentration.

"What happens if I do?"

The cleric shrugged with his eyes still shut as he prepared for the spell. "Just messy." And with that, he tugged them along as he stepped under the tree, into its shadow. There was a sudden lurch, then they stepped out from a different tree.

The one hiding the clearing where Thom and Merlon were camped.

"Still regret letting me into your little hidey hole those years back?" the cleric jested and led the way into the dale. Outsider came in right behind him after checking Jiff was unharmed and looked to Thom who was sitting near the unconscious form of Merlon. The hobbit looked up suddenly at the sound of their approach, or more accurately, the dwarf's approach.

"How did you get here so fast?" he asked breathlessly and jumped to his feet. He stared at the cleric a moment when Outsider didn't reply.

"Oh, a simple spell really. One I learned in my younger days from an old wizard by the name of.." He scratched his balding head. "By Griphon's beard, what was his name? Perhaps it was.." he rambled off to himself in deep thought.

The bounty hunter looked at the confused hobbit and he sympathized the feeling. "How is he?"

Thom stared at Merlon as he spoke. "He woke up a few hours ago." He went quiet for a while before continuing. "He told me, that if he does pass on, he wants us to find his people without him." His voice wavered as he spoke and he sucked in a shaky breath. "And not to worry about burying him; he's meant for the earth either way." Outsider pointedly looked away and pretended not to notice the puffy, pinkness of his little friend's round eyes.

Instead he tapped the cleric, who was still talking, and pointed to Merlon.

"Oh, yes! Righto then, just give me a few moments to find my potions." He set his pack down with a grunt and began rummaging around, his entire upper half within it.

"Potions? What potions?" Outsider demanded as the strange clinking sounds emanated from within the folds of the bag. Already he could picture the terrifying implications of potions made by this particular dwarven cleric.

"Relax." he replied, muffled from within the sack. "I didn't make them."

That alone was enough to ease the elf's apprehension. A moment later the cleric popped out of the pack with a handful of small vials. "These two will boost his strength temporarily, for after. This one will replenish what he has lost. And this one will help me."

"What's it do?" Thom asked, intrigued, and leaned forward as he craned his neck for a closer look.

The cleric laughed and downed the bottle no larger than his thumb in several long gulps. "Liquid courage!" he announced with a loud belch and bustled over to Merlon. The distinct odor of alcohol wafted past Outsider's nose which crinkled immediately.

The cleric crouched beside his patient and squeezed shut his eyes as he prayed to Reiin to grant him the power to heal this good dwarf, a dear friend of his most trusted companion. Thom and Outsider watched him from a few feet away, silent and anxious. A few minutes passed by in silence as the somber group waited for something to happen.

Then he clapped his hands together with a snap and felt the telltale tingling in his fingertips and warmth in his palms. Flexing his fingers and popping his knuckles he placed his hands flat against Merlon's chest. The dwarf stirred beneath his touch.

An hour passed as such; Outsider rubbing down Jiff and getting him fed while Thom tended the fire. He wanted food to be prepared when Merlon awoke despite the cleric assuring him the potions would more than suffice when he was at last finished. He stood and stretched out his legs which were sore from squatting so long.

"I'm getting too old for this." he muttered though he was no older than Outsider and could easily live to three hundred. He looked to the others and smiled. "His heart was beating strong beneath my hands. The wound healed completely inside and out, though there is a nasty looking scar if one of you wants to check it out."

Outsider shook his hand gratefully and grinned. "How long before he wakes?"

"Ohh, I'd say a couple of hours. It's a tough thing to recover from such a—" Merlon rolled to his feet in a sudden frenzy and spun around the camp, growling and roaring with spittle flying. "Or perhaps just a few minutes." the cleric finished in astonishment.

The old dwarf regained his senses then and steadied himself against a tree. His face was struck with bewilderment and his eyes looked to each of them eagerly. They were pleased to see him up and appearing healthy. Even the color had returned to his beard, though the flecks of silver that had already been there still remained.

"What happened? What's goin' on? Where am I?" he blurted. He backed away as Thom reached out to calm him. "Last thing I remember is the battle. The orcs.."

"They got you good with a spear through the liver, so your friends took you here on the pass and I healed you." the cleric answered as he noticed his companions were too surprised to do so. "And I must say you've done a miraculous job of taking to it! Why, I would say you're the fastest recovering patient I've ever had or seen. Even my old mentor—"

Merlon roared over him. "I can accept all that. I've taken me fair share of battle scars. And my liver's proven its mettle for years." He cocked his head to the side and pointed to the other dwarf. "But I'm curious as to who the devil you are."

"Of course, of course." the cleric laughed and straightened formally. With a flourish, he bowed low, and announced grandly with much splendor, "I am Cuke Barleybeard, Cleric of Reiin, Seeker of Knowledge, and long time friend of Outsider!"

There was a moment's silence that seemed to last an hour, then Merlon's face screwed up at the title and he looked to his friends. "Well that's a stupid name now aint it?"

Chapter Twenty One: The Tipping Scale

The following week was spent waiting for Merlon to recover, recounting what had transpired during his "absence", and telling stories of the adventures Cuke and Outsider had had in their early days of travelling the land in search of quests and treasure. Thom hung on to their every word and asked questions at every pause, finding his insatiable curiosity peaking from tale to tale. Merlon laughed at the funny parts and paid attention for while he could, but it didn't take long for him to refuse to wait around any longer.

"I feel fine ye' whiny bunch o' goblin-brained pansies!" he had roared as he gathered his supplies and strapped them to Horsey. Cuke opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by his next sentence. "And if I hear one more time that I'm still too weak to travel, I'll shove me boot so deep up—"

"We get it, Merlon; we shant tarry any longer." Outsider acquiesced and followed his lead. "But we need to find more steeds for us to make any reasonable time."

And so Cuke had tree transferred back to Briggand Sails then returned a few minutes later with two shaggy haired ponies, one black and one white. "Their names are Ebony and Ivory." he told the group happily. "Finest horses the chapel has and they lent them to me!" he beamed. "In fact, they insisted I take them to continue my travels for as long as I need. Quite generous of them eh?"

The others noticed the nod Outsider gave them and made no comment; allowing the cleric his moment of pride, then geared up and hit the road. Only then had they realized they didn't know where they were going. The caravan paused and looked to Outsider for direction.

Inside he waged a war.

If he took in Thom, he would gain a fortune that would afford him possibilities far beyond his grasp such as a true house, legendary magical armors and weapons, or potions that could affect a multitude of things. It could very well transform his entire life.

On the other hand, he had grown to like the little thief, respecting him even. He told himself Thom wasn't a bad kid and had just been dealt a bad hand. He knew he could have very well ended up the same way; becoming a vicious murderer like those who had raised him.

He shook his head and cursed himself for even considering it after all that had happened between them. He looked to the dwarves who were conversing in their natural language, then to Thom who sat on the other side of the group watching him.

Outsider led his eyes to each of them as he spoke. "They say as good things happen, so too, will bad, to even our lives." he stated ominously. Cuke and Merlon went silent then and stared at him intently. He noted the hard look in the old fighter's eye. "But I will not be that bad occurrence."

Outsider held his hand out to Thom, who looked at it as he might a snake rearing to strike, and then hesitantly gripped it. He smiled as they shook. "I'm not taking you to Cain Sander. By my eyes, you've more than earned your freedom." He released the hobbit's hand. "You're free to go as you wish."

"Not to mention you've had probably a thousand chances to leave already!" Merlon laughed heartily and nodded at the elf. "'Course yer always welcome to stay, boy."

"Wouldn't want you to miss all the fun." Cuke added with a wide grin that nearly closed his eyes.

Thom looked over his shoulder at the road. He couldn't deny the calling he felt to go home, to lay in his soft bed and eat hot food. To see women, real women!

Then as he pictured it, he realized he didn't have a home anymore. This particular bounty hunter had forgiven him, but the countless others hadn't. Not to mention the Heavywinter Warriors who knew he had stolen a treasure from them and ran half the town he had lived in.

Looking ahead then at those around him, Thom couldn't deny the calling he felt for adventure either. A fire burned in his stomach and made him queasy with excitement.

"What're we waiting for?" he cheered and accepted the claps on the shoulder until he was knocked from his horse by Merlon's.

"Oops, sorry boy." the old dwarf mumbled and picked him up by the scruff of his cape and plopped him down on Ivory.

Cuke turned their attention back to the elf then. "So where are we going, Outsider? I know of a few places we might find some interesting artifacts said to contain ancient and mysterious recipes for the most delicious—"

"We have a prior engagement, my friend." he replied. "Merlon's home of Journ has been taken by a spirit I believe and completely abandoned over night without a single footprint."

The cleric shuddered and pulled his robes about him tighter, covering his chainmail so that the steel wouldn't chill him even more. "Sounds like the type of thing you would get me pulled into." he said dryly and arched an eyebrow.

Merlon laughed at the facial expression he commonly employed. "Maybe it be a dwarven thing."

"Can you tree travel us back to Journ?" Outsider asked of Cuke, but the cleric shook his head at once.

"Too many of us even without the horses, and I've never been there; could wind up in pieces or on the wrong continent." He scratched his head as was his custom and leaned back in the saddle. "So I guess we'd best get going?"

Agreed, the group had set out back the way they came, away from Cain Sander and down the Pilgrimage Pass toward the northern plains. This time they went at a leisurely pace, taking time to enjoy the scenic views and listen as Outsider pointed out the variety of plants and flowers one could eat and those too poisonous to even touch, while Cuke and Merlon had a debate over whether or not their race was meant for magic which quickly fell into their rough and heavy consonant language. Outsider understood it perfectly well but ignored it as he had no compunction to argue.

Instead he and Thom swapped stories of their time in the cities spread across the northern tundra and compared who had the best, with Thom's harrowing tale of the time he was caught with the Jarl's daughter swimming nude in a bathtub filled with jewels and gold taking the prize.

"I swear, it may seem like a fine idea at first glance, but once you're actually in there you realize just how cold gold coins can be!" The hobbit wheezed as his lungs contracted from laughing too hard. Outsider, likewise, found himself shaking in the saddle.

Jiff whinnied and shook his head as if to say, you guys are ridiculous.

The elf leaned back and stared at the sky as the sun began to set. They were more than halfway back to the plains now and he was anxious to see the remnants of the battlefield to learn who had been victorious overall. Yet, he didn't want to rush there.

Now, in the pass, with his friends, he found himself at ease; as if the troubles of the world that rejected him no longer mattered. In the past two weeks, he had realized he was here surrounded by those who would risk their life for him, and not a single one of his race. True companionship and a mutual level of trust embellished with respect kept them safe; a brotherhood of sorts. Never before had he trusted anyone aside from Cuke to watch his back without fear of betrayal, for indeed that exact thing had happened several times in the past.

Outsider found himself confused by the entire ordeal and unable to understand why this group who he had only known only a few months, aside from the cleric, would side with him so. It truly boggled his mind and shook the entire infrastructure of the reality he had lived in all his life.

Even content as he was, he longed to know why, to comprehend their motivations and better realize what had evaded him for so long.

Slowly it began to dawn on him that fear was not a driving factor. Their reasons were not a point of contention for him to decide if he was at risk, but to know if what he felt was in sync. To judge whether he was a friend to them.

This, he realized, is what I've been waiting for. The opportunity to test who I am against my kind not in battle or on my prowess of killing, but of the person I have become.

That thought eased him into a comfortable lull. He listened politely to the others and commented when necessary, but ultimately found his solace in just hearing their tales and learning more about them and how they turned out the way they did. He never underestimated one's upbringing and the repercussions it could have on their entire life, whether they accepted or rebelled against it.

And he found himself pleased by what he heard.

"So what's the Shadowverse like?" Thom asked suddenly and Outsider stared ahead a long while. "I mean, what is it? It's underground right? Complete darkness?"

The elf lingered in silence for a moment then decided his little friend had earned such information from him. "Yes and no. The Shadowverse is indeed underground but not in the way you'd think. It's not just some series of caves and tunnels, but a mirrored image of the world above; warped and upside down within an alternate plane. Our ground is your ground but we're on opposite sides of it...does that make sense?"

Thom shrugged. "I think I get it; kinda like a shadow of one another?"

"Exactly; a reflection. The people and cities are different of course, but the similarities are always there. They say the two are connected by fate, that even the buildings resembled one another. Some of the elders would say our opposites were on the surface."

"Opposites?" Thom asked perplexed.

"Someone exactly alike yet different. Such as if you were to come across some sort of Shadowverse-dwelling halfling who was a thief but did such in an evil manner." Outsider mused. "But they were just a legend; rumors really. Legends say dark elves came to existence to balance the light of the elves on the surface, just as the light cannot exist without creating shadows. But none know for sure; they're far too occupied with pleasing the Nine of Night. And as for the darkness, that was true for the most part. It is always night below and the sky dead. Try to imagine an empty black void above that absorbs light rather than gives it."

"That's almost as hard to picture as the mirrored world." Thom laughed. "So what happened when you made your way out to the surface?"

Outsider paused to remember exactly. "Honestly it's a bit hazy as I hadn't eaten in a few days, but I was in the tunnels for months and months; gradually winding my way higher and higher with the pressure popping my ears every hour or so. You see, only the deepest shadows can open the planes; both natural and magical. I kept going until I remember seeing this waterfall at the end of the tunnel falling the wrong way. So I walk over to it and look up to watch it go when gravity just flipped. I fell, or flew, depending on how you look at it, and came up in the bottom of this pond."

Thom screwed up his face as he imagined it and gave a sort of snort. "Wow, you've had a strange life, Outsider."

The elf nodded and couldn't help but agree with his little friend. He had surprised himself by being able to talk about such a dark place; figuratively and literally, and remain in such a good mood.

So relaxed was he, that the dirk caught him fully in the chest before the Inksmoke ever fell. The pain sliced through him as surely as the steel and he doubled over, slipping from Jiff to the ground with a grunt where he crouched low in the artificial night.

A cruel, sneering voice that had followed him from the Shadowverse snickered and called out to him. "I like that little speech you said back there; the one about not being the bad that would offset the good? It's very dramatic...in fact, I liked it so much, I decided I would take it to heart and be that bad occurrence just so I could save you from whatever else may come your way.

"I will be the tipping of the scale."

Outsider couldn't have replied if he wanted to; the dirk, while not very deep, had impacted his cracked ribs and stolen his wind. Instead he futilely raked the darkness with his natural vision for Blaine, knives drawn.

A moment later he pulled his cowl lower to shield his sensitive eyes as Cuke loosed a handful of light that disintegrated the dark with a loud crackling similar to fire. The cleric held the spell until he could see clearly.

As soon as the inky blackness peeled away in black tendrils like wispy smoke, his face sought out Outsider's who looked back at him with equal bewilderment. They shared a shrug and looked over to the dwarf who cursed and spat beside his frenzied pony.

Merlon picked himself up from the ground where he had fallen, looked to the two of them, then in a full circle. He swung his head about and ducked below his pony to scan the ground, then walked the perimeter. Slowing from his search that had escalated to a run, his eyes locked with the elf's. His heart felt as if it had dropped into his stomach and made it hard to speak.

At least he managed to choke out, "Where's Thom?"
Chapter Twenty Two: Secret Hand

Dradewen walked through the gates of Delvin and sighed deeply. "How I hate this city." he remarked to his father who just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "When can we leave?"

The chief shrugged and scratched at the thick beard that now covered his neck and cheeks. "Soon as the weather permits and the Guard know of our deeds. Surely there is a reward to be had!" He smiled broadly at the thought of spare cents to reinforce his purse during the hard winter.

Dradewen merely shook his head in disappointment and followed him down the street with his eyes cast down, not seeing any of the buildings or people until they entered the Guard's quarters.

Instantly the smell of meat took hold of his attention.

"Ah, gentlemen, you've finally arrived." Captain Robaine announced and shook hands with the chief. "I pray your trip was fruitful."

Dunawar laughed and sat at the table before them. Upon it was the most succulent pig he had laid eyes on in decades, surrounded by sides and sauces among breads and other local delicacies. He nodded and helped himself to a large platter worth.

"I dunno about the 'gentlemen' part, but the rest is true. Those orcs didn't stand a chance, did they boy?" he called between mouthfuls. Grease dribbled down his chin as he sucked the gristle from his fingers. "Caught them in the middle of another fight then hit 'em with their pants down! What brings you here by the way?"

Dradewen sat at the end of the table as his father spoke. Already he was tired of this conversation.

"Oh, just your typical matters of sharing information on criminals who have hit more than one town. Nothing compared to a tale such as yours." Captain Robaine sat across from Dunawar and listened intently to the story and placed the traditional oohs and ahhs at the precise moments he knew the Warrior would want it; nodding along and leaning forward in his seat.

"—So I threw my hammer and sent it straight through the foul beast! Broken and utterly vanquished, it slammed through a dozen of orcs at least and then pinned it to the rock! Next thing I know, the battle's ours and my boy here," pointing down the table to Dradewen, "has pulled the hammer out with the strength of Griphon himself!"

Captain Robaine faltered then for a moment, his eyes whisking down to the young warrior and back. "What became of the thing?"

"Oh the hammer? It's right he—"

"No!" he shouted. Faces turned toward him curiously, the Warrior chief surprised yet still sipping his ale. The captain smiled and shook his head. "Forgive me. Apparently I have been too enticed by your tale and find myself enthralled. Do continue."

Dunawar did with a dip of his head and after refilling his mug. "Then with a shriek the likes of which would chill your bones and make your skin crawl as surely as a worm; the thing grips me and my boy by the throat with a power unseen. Just as I figured a way out, another orc I had thought dead threw an axe through it. Then with a fiery explosion like a thousand suns, the beast exploded into flames and we narrowly avoided certain death. Didn't we, boy?"

"Oh definitely." Dradewen replied with a roll of his eyes.

"So we packed up and left, caught a few orcs along the way, and here we are!" Dunawar concluded with a flourish, spilling ale across the tabletop. He wiped the foam from his beard and continued ravishing his plate with one hand and gulping the warm mead with the other.

The captain nodded and placed his hands together to cover his nose and mouth, elbows on the table; thinking. He leaned back in his chair and waved his hand absentmindedly. "So what kind of axe was it?" he asked casually. "The one that managed to kill the thing?"

Dunawar shrugged as he ate. "Dunno, just took it with us and gave it to my brother, Durgen. He always liked axes, and this one was a beauty. Gleaming black it was, and without a scratch on her." He paused at the memory then cleaned the meat from his porkchop with a smile.

Robaine nodded and rubbed his temples with his forefinger and thumb. "I see, and did Durgen come with you to town?" A small shred of hope rose in his voice which was quickly snuffed.

"Nah, he decided to stay back with the others outside the walls. He's had too much of politics he says. Which is why he gave me control of the tribe I wager." the chief muttered. "He's the oldest, but he cares not for the intric..the intrici...the nice parts of debate! Such as I." he finished smugly and wavered slightly in his seat.

The captain nodded and then snapped his eyes to focus on the chief's. "Well, congratulations to you on your success and may your tribe thrive for many winters." With that, he stood erect and turned on his heel, exiting the building.

Dunawar hardly noticed and continued to feast long after he had left. Dradewen restlessly paced about the room, waiting for the time they would depart for home, and he would be free again.

"How much longer can you possibly gorge yourself? I long for the fresh air and cold winds of Rusk! Not this dirty city of too many people and too little space." he complained and threw himself down beside his father. "Even this pork pales in comparison to those our women prepare."

Dunawar snorted. "Hardly, this is so..so juicy. Jes' try some. It's goods it is, my..my boy." He stuttered and teetered backward in his seat as he tilted the mug back to drain the last drop, then collapsed to the floor with a loud snore.

Dradewen shook his head and laid it down on the table.

***

The cloaked figure emerged from behind the tent, jade ring glowing faintly, and quietly stepped around the sentry who was facing the other way. The night had just fallen but already was it dark enough to shield him in such a season. Pulling his hood down low, the man steadily paced through the center of the encampment, noting every person he saw sitting around the fire, and marking them as inconsequential to his mission.

A great yawn came from beside him and he threw himself back as a tentflap not a foot away was thrown open. A large man with graying blond hair emerged and scratched at the rough patches of beard upon his weathered face. Even in the darkness his eyes were bright with wisdom and inquiry.

"Tis night time already? I really am getting old then, if battle takes such a weight upon me." He laughed and sat down by the blazing logs. He clapped a man on the shoulder and shook him slightly. "Eh, you'd best get some shuteye, Norsd; you're no good to us if you're dead on your feet. I'll take the next watch."

The man nodded and disappeared into his tent with a curt wave, leaving the intruder alone with his target. Slowly, he slipped into the tent, and peered around for the axe, but found only rudimentary weapons and fur clothing. Stepping back into the dim light of the fire, he quickly eyed the majestic axe beside the aged Warrior.

He slid his knife free and dipped it into the dirt so it would not shine and reflect, then with a deep inhale, crept up behind the sitting man.

The Warrior remained stationary and stoked the coals, causing the flames to rise slightly, then dropped another log onto them. He rubbed his hands together by the heat and gingerly laid the axe against his leg. "Nothing like a warm fire on a cold night." he remarked. "Isn't that right, stranger?"

The cloaked man froze in place, breath held.

"Well come on then. I know you're not here to mince words and sit quietly in the dark. I'd wager you're here for this." He held up the black axe in one hand. "And I can see why. It's a magnificent piece, and endowed with great power. However it's tainted with a darkness I cannot possibly comprehend."

The cloaked man found his voice then. "I can. And I can control it to ensure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands; the hands of those who can only question it and succumb."

The man nodded. "I thought you'd say something along those lines. But in my time, I've met several others who said similar things. And all sought only to usurp such darkness. To control it for their own wills greedily and evilly."

"Perhaps." the cloaked man replied with a shrug. "Or perhaps I am truly capable of protecting the land from its maliciousness." He strode forward until he was close enough to reach out and touch him. "I know you've felt its hunger by now. Surely you have sensed the emanations of anger and hate that have been welled up within it. You may believe you can defeat them and wield it righteously.

"But you cannot."

His knife came in quickly with a single step forward, but Durgen was ready and anticipated the movement. He leaned to his left as the blade came forward to miss, then grabbed the cloaked man by the collar and hurled him forward with his right arm, launching him headfirst into the fire.

The figure wanted to scream in pain and panic, but instead clenched his jaw shut so hard his ears rang. He rolled from the coals and logs then with a twist, removed his flaming cloak. He stared hard at the old man who had so easily turned the tables on him.

"I underestimated you, Durgen." he said curtly and examined a particularly painful burn on his left leg. "I see now I should have predicted no less from the rightful leader of the Heavywinter Clan."

Durgen nodded in acknowledgement of the statement. "And I you, Captain Robaine."

The Captain dipped his head in a mock salute and stared coldly into his eyes.

"But I must know," Durgen began. "What aims would drive a man of protecting the innocent to such a devious path? I remember your father and the morals he surely passed on to you. What could entice a man so irrevocably as to twist his heart and mind?"

Robaine smiled widely and held his arms out to each side as if to embrace him. "The same thing man has sought since the dawning of our time. The very thing we strive for all our lives and generation after generation dies to earn. The very thing wars are waged over and kingdoms felled." His arms fell to his sides. "Power."

He launched forward in a quickstep and loosed a series of quick cuts, most of which found nothing but air or blade, but the last slipped past the axe and struck Durgen upon the forearm, drawing a thin line of blood. A jug dropped from Robaine's hand and shattered; sending a dark liquid splashing through the grass. The old Warrior scarcely noticed the cut and sent the captain head over heels with a boot to the chest.

He landed winded and rolled to his feet.

"I hope this deceit is worth the power you crave then, Robaine Betrayer of All." Durgen spat on the ground before his feet and hefted the black axe at the ready. "For it will come at a high price."

But Robaine wasn't worried. He laughed and dusted off his trousers, taking care to avoid striking the large burn on his thigh. "I'm afraid this fight is over, Durgen."

The proud Warrior raised his chin high in defiance. "I think not, coward. You could not strike me down in a single blow if you wielded Griphon's greatsword of pure flame."

"That may be true." he agreed and conceded the point. "So I took precautions."

Durgen faltered then and eyed him, realizing the depth of Robaine's treachery. "What have you done, Robaine?" Their eyes locked onto one another, grimace to grin.

"I killed you." he whispered.

Durgen stared hard at the man before him and tried to discern something in his gaze. Then he looked to the cut upon his arm and saw the flesh there peeling away and bruised. He scowled at the man he had once known in outrage.

"A poison most virulent Durgen; that of the Lichrot." he stated with a wave of his hand. "Your bones will turn brittle and crumble under the slightest of pressure." He looked to the stars then his blade. "In fact, you should start feeling it very soon."

As predicted, the weight of the axe began to grow until he could not lift it singlehandedly.

"Coward." Durgen cursed and came forward with a gradually slowing series of heavy swings. He doubled over to retain his grip on the axe as it sat in the dirt.

"Just relax, Durgen, it's not so bad to die. You've lived a full life and you shou—"Robaine leaped back as another chop came suddenly and was batted away by the flat of the axe, then Durgen turned about in a spin and brought it down hard where Robaine would have been.

Where Robaine should have been.

"Oh, how surprising you Warriors can be with your exponential strength; especially at your age. True barbarians the lot of you. But magic beats might, my friend." His ring still glowed faintly from recent use.

Expended of energy, Durgen dropped the axe and slumped to the side with it; fingers crunching under the handle. He cried out in pain but only succeeding in his jaw shattering upon opening. He stumbled back as the agony shot through him and he tripped over the log he had sat upon, falling on his back and shattering multiple vertebrae and his femurs.

But he was a Warrior and forced himself back to his feet, breaking his other hand and wrist in the process, and soon both legs were too far gone to hold him. He sank to his knees and tried to form the words welling up inside of him as his rage grew.

"I know, Durgen, I know. It hurts." Robaine cooed and ruffled the old man's long hair. "But don't worry. It won't be long now. Eventually the poison breaks down your bones until your organs are unsupported and split under their own weight, but you won't have to worry about that."

He spun about on his heel and kicked him hard in the stomach, sending both racks of ribs asunder within him; a loud crack dulled from beneath flesh still loud enough to hear. Blood stains grew quickly across his shirt as bone pierced skin and organ alike. Durgen's face contorted into such a grimace as Robaine had never seen. His eyes seemed to sag in their sockets and every facial feature drooped like melted wax until the lines of wrinkle appeared as folds of some cloth. But those pale eyes still watched him accusingly and let him know he was to pay for this someday.

Those eyes stared past him and through him, Robaine thought; seeing him for what he truly was. Knowing what he had done and what he was to become. This was why he preferred to remain the faceless figure in the shadows who worked from behind unnoticed. But now he had been seen and accused.

By those pale eyes.

With a snarl he twisted his hips in such a kick that bent Durgen's head backward until his neck was bowed and the back of his head touched between his shoulder blades. The body fell forward, the decimated face of the old Warrior staring up, and with the immense constitution only one as hardy as a wild man could attain, still focused his blurring gaze upon Robaine.

The captain screamed in fury and kicked a log from the fire onto the ground beside the crumpled form. "The jug beside you, Durgen, is mine as well. Emptied now of course, during our little squabble. You'll find its contents quite—"

The flaming log ignited the fumes and in a loud rush of wind sprouted into tall flames that consumed the old man.

"Combustible." he finished.

Durgen moaned quietly through his rubble of a mouth full of blood and teeth as his flesh was seared off until nothing but charred and bubbling meat remained stuck to his blackened bones. The light from the flames steadily lowered then, only fueled by the old man's corpse, until Robaine was able to reach the axe.

"At last, the prize for all my efforts!" Hefting the axe high, he allowed the white hot handle to sear his hands until smoke wafted away from his palms. Inspecting them through watery eyes, he found the insignia upon the blade imbedded in his skin. "Together, you and I shall dominate the will of man, and reign high above them as something more."

With Cleave Rend in hand, Robaine's ring flared with life and he vanished from sight with a clap of thunder; his silencing charm ending not a second later.

***

Dunawar sat up from the floor and wiped the drool from his cheek. Blinking several times to clear his vision, he stood and swayed slightly as he made his way outside. The sun was nearly risen he noted and the townsfolk already bustling about their business to prepare for the cold months.

Then he shivered and realized they were already upon them, and he wasn't wearing his tunic. He looked down at his bare torso and grimaced slightly as he noted the strain on his flesh from retaining such muscle mass. Then he swooned slightly again and the taste of ale was still strong in his mouth.

"I really am getting old aren't I?" He turned back inside the Guard's quarters and plopped down at the table; knocking over a dozen empty mugs on their sides.

"Yes," a voice answered from behind. "Yes you are." Robaine entered and clapped the chief on the shoulder before sitting across from him with a wide smile splayed on his face.

Dunawar noticed as he filled his mug with more mead. "What're you so happy about?"

The captain shrugged casually and picked at a slice of bread with his fingers. "Just a new day with so many new opportunities. It's quite extraordinary to think of how often we take such a thing for granted."

Dunawar's eyebrows rose as he drained his cup. "Oh, uh, yeah. I know what you mean." He stuffed his mouth full of pork and prayed the conversation would soon change subject.

"So how goes it in Rusk?" Robaine asked tentatively. He eyed every facial movement to discern any emotion the old Warrior may attempt to mask.

"Well, I've been gone about a month," he leaned his head to the side. "So I'd be willing to bet nothing's changed. Same as before, with us taking care of the people while the dwarves take care of the metalwork." Another bite of pork. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh no reason in particular." Robaine replied noncommittally. "Just that when I was there last, about a week past, I saw the tides beginning to shift." He smiled inwardly as the chief froze and leaned forward, eager to hear more. "A sort of power struggle between your clan and the dwarves has always been present; a push and pull. But you found a median for the two.

"However, a third group has risen and aims to take control of both." He clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers. "And combine them."

Dunawar scowled at his plate and miraculously lost his appetite. "Who? What fool would dare try such an escapade?"

Captain Robaine leaned back and stroked his chin in thought. His eyes roved the ceiling as he pretended to sift through his thoughts and remember who it was responsible. He exclaimed an "Ah!" and slapped his knee. "Yes, that's it. It's the Guard!"

The chief paused incredulously and stared. Of all the choices he had anticipated; politicians, priests, regular workers; the Guard was not among them. "How the hell would they be in charge of anything?"

"Well they are in charge of protecting the cities and keeping them safe. They have the largest numbers and plenty of soldiers among scholars. All in all it seems rather plausible to me." He popped another piece of roll into his mouth. "Not to mention they have such wondrous relics now."

Dunawar sat up straight and eyed the man. "Aren't you a captain of the Guard?" He whispered to the smaller man.

Robaine stared back unflinchingly and even smiled.

"Tell me, Dunawar—"

"Chief. Chief Dunawar." he corrected.

"Of course." Robaine conceded. "Tell me Chief Dunawar, have you ever been one to partake in matters of the mind?" The Warrior's blank stare was answer enough. "I thought not. You see, there are two kinds of will. Physical will, in which your strength and stamina are tested; this you excel at.

"And the mental kind. In which your intelligence and overall resolve as to who you are is strained." He paused to ensure the chief was listening. "I have spent many years honing the latter, and have found that with the right tools," from beneath his cloak he removed Cleave Rend. "One can exercise such prowess just as you and others like your savage kind do every day."

Dunawar bristled at the insult and stood so quickly his chair was knocked over. He held his chin high and puffed his chest out. His muscles bulged as he tensed for a fight. "You truly have the tongue of a politician; forked and whispering deceit." He stepped forward menacingly and towered over the captain. "And I shall rip it from your mouth."

"The only thing you shall take from my mouth shall be my commands." Robaine spat and sneered as Cleave Rend begin to warm in his hand, emitting the fog he had longed to enforce for years. "Your brother spoke just as defiantly as you. But in the end, it was all the same."

Dunawar roared and flipped over the table with a cacophony of clanging sounds as the platter and dishes rolled away or shattered. Robaine leaped back from the heavy wooden furniture and brandished Cleave Rend in both hands as the fog continued its slow crawl across the floor.

"What have you done, Robaine!" Dunawar screamed into the captain's face, echoing Durgen's words. Veins bulged and he had gone flush with rage. His wild eyes raked the room for a suitable weapon, then settled definitively on the black axe within the man's hands.

He strode forward, reaching for it, when his mind blanked. He stopped mid-stride and looked around. Confusion swam about him and he couldn't remember why he was here. Scratching his head, he looked to the captain and recognized his face.

"Ah, Robaine! Have you any idea what we were discussing?" He took in the dismal shape of the room and the wrecked arrangement of décor. "Or fighting about?"

The captain smiled and nodded. "We had just come to an agreement last night on joining organizations; your clan and my order. However a few of your kin didn't see eye-to-eye with the plan and stormed out after a rather heated argument. Specifically your brother."

Dunawar nodded slowly as if it all made sense and surveyed the room once more. "Durgen did all this? He's usually the calm one; hates politics and arguing."

Robaine stuttered and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, he..he felt very strongly about this and demanded you return him to the head of the clan at once. Yes! He did, and then when you refused, he took up arms and was escorted out. He left in a drunken stupor; to forget the night's events I suppose." He rested his hand on the Warrior's shoulder and looked down at the ground as he spoke.

"I'm afraid he was found dead earlier this morning."

Dunawar froze and sat down heavily in a chair. He stroked his hair back from his face and doubled over with his head supported in his calloused hands. "How?" he breathed.

"It appears his fire got loose, and his cloak caught." the captain whispered. "An accident."

Dunawar shook his head once again and rubbed his temples and eyes. He loved his brother dearly and owed much to him, but it was the Warrior way to honor, respect, and even expect death. He stood determinedly and set his jaw in a firm line.

"Then we have much to do; funeral rites to prepare and a feast to cook. I take it we are in Delvin?" He nodded at the affirmative. "Then we must return to Rusk immediately. You can tell me more about this conjoining of our groups as well." he said with a frown. "I can't for the life of me recall anything about it and it seems such a strange idea.."

Deep down he knew something didn't feel right, but any time he tried to think about it; to devote any amount of thought behind it, it melted away through his fingers like sand. He inhaled deeply to steady himself, unknowingly breathing in the fog, and was soon on his way home; the invisible puppet strings of Robaine upon him.
Chapter Twenty Three: Pillar of Smoke

The news had come as a shock to everyone. The entire clan had known and loved Durgen; Durgen who took care of his people and acknowledged when he was wrong, who led for the good of others and honestly. All had grown up hearing of his great deeds.

The fact that he was found burned and deformed beyond recognition didn't help. The only way they were able to identify the remains was when Norsd woke up and explained how Durgen had taken over his post as sentry.

Then it was a matter of discussing how it had happened when the cloak was found, actually Robaine's, and it was assumed he had caught fire whilst asleep. After all, they decided, he was getting along in years.

As typical with Warriors, they recovered quickly, and once the shock was over they were on the march for Rusk to honor their fallen comrade and lay him to rest with their forefathers, where he would hunt and feast with the founders of their tribe. They were a hardy people and chanted songs of honor and praise of great wars and battles the long walk home.

But to Dradewen it was a different matter.

"Uncle Durgen wasn't decrepit and senile. He was always alert and still the smartest man I've ever met." he pleaded with his father. "There is no way he fell asleep and caught fire like a useless husk of a man!"

His dark eyes set in a fierce frown as he considered all that had transpired. He searched his father's face for a sign of recognition but was only met with a mask of Dunawar. The chief's blank eyes stared ahead as if dead and numbly replied in vague responses.

"I know you were close, Dradewen. But accidents happen."

Dradewen cursed and quickened his pace away from his father, fuming all the while.

Nearly a tenday later, the pyre was prepared and soaked in oil over night to ensure its effectiveness. Just outside of Rusk's outer wall they congregated. Incense was burned and gave the chill air the sweet smell of oak and pine. Torches were placed in two lines pointing down to the pyre until they leaned over and actually touched the large stack of wood.

Those there to pay their respects were placed between the two walls of torches and their voices rose in song and prayer. Calls out to Griphon and Dirringyr echoed across the tundra and praises of the fallen warrior rode the wind until it could be heard miles out. The very trees seemed to lean toward the funeral to hear them.

Dradewen and Dunawar at the helm carried a stretcher laden with Durgen's remains wrapped within a buckskin sheet and his old axe laid by his side. Slowly they descended the hill toward the pyre, matching the pace of the song's beat.

A heavy war drum pounded out a slow melancholy tempo for them to follow and the music matched. As they passed the rows of viewers, torches were lit from a single torch within Dradewen's hand and another within Dunawar's. These cast flame to those lining the partition made up of the taller torches set in the ground.

As they neared the end of the hill the song grew more rapid, steadily gaining speed as the war drum ascended. The song rose in volume until it was deafening, hundreds of voices as one. More torches were lit.

The hill was behind them then. They were within a small valley in which the majority of viewers stood in wait. Across this they went and continued to gain speed and momentum, carried by the song and driving bass. The line of light on either side was nearly solid then.

Passing through the valley they ascended a smaller hill with the song at a maximum crescendo. The viewers called with all their might to the heavens within their praise and song, for them to accept their brother, father, and teacher, Durgen into their house of old. The loudest and most frantic beat set at last, they lowered Durgen onto the pyre.

Dradewen and Dunawar illuminated the last pair of torches meant for them, which in such close proximity to the leaning line of more torches, lit themselves in a quick succession until the last; bowed so far it touched the pyre, ignited and engulfed the ornate wooden set in flames.

Durgen wore a shroud of fire then and the hardened buckskin slowly blackened as the song cut away, all silent. Only the crackling fires remained audible. A few here and there wept for their lost friend and kin, with Dradewen among them.

The Warrior chief took his place in front of the pyre and looked down from the hill onto all those in attendance. He cleared his voice and wiped his bloodshot eyes, for Robaine had full control of his every little emotion and physical response from them.

"Friends, family, and well-wishers, I thank you all for coming here today. In this time and season I know the journey for many of you was no easy feat, so you have my most sincere appreciation. My brother was always a people person and reached out to all those he could, whether to lend a helping hand or to cast down those evil. As such I am sure he reached out and touched many of your lives.

"And I know he would have wanted you here to see him off." He beckoned for Dradewen to stand beside him and gripped his son around the shoulders. "I remember when my son, Dradewen, was born. Durgen predicted the boy would grow strong and wise; a true successor to lead our tribe. So he placed his hands upon the newborn Dradewen and proclaimed he would be the next Durgen.

"He said it would be only fair we still have Dradewen even when he would leave us to embark on the next journey of life; death. He has told Dradewen something every year since."

He took a step back and allowed his son to stand in the center. Dradewen stared at the crowds, hundreds he knew and hundreds he didn't, and worried he would forget what he had to say. He looked back and saw the flames upon the pyre and the figure within, and his heart steeled.

"My uncle Durgen always told me, to take what you can get and not what you think you deserve. He said every man and woman has to earn what they want and that nothing is given freely. He told me blood is thicker than water but you need both to survive, so I shouldn't draw lines between family and friends, but to make them one in the same.

"I have taken these to heart and I pray many of you will too, for he will live on through us. Never forgotten and always loved, he helped shape our lives for the better in death just as he did in life."

With that, he bowed out and Dunawar returned to the front. "Now let our brother become one with nature, with the land we thrive from and have depended upon for generations. Let his ashes meld with the soil and earth even as his soul departs from it." He turned to the pyre and kneeled down on one knee to his brother. "To Durgen!"

"To Durgen!" the hundreds of voices called together as a single. Songs arose as they marched back the way they came and up the hill to feast in celebration of their kin's ascendance.

Dradewen stared from the hill at the sunset and watched the pillar of smoke rise from the pyre; his uncle's very being merging with the land and sky. Upon this sight he swore to himself to avenge both his death and memory.
Chapter Twenty Four: Resurgence

Outsider scanned the ground one more time just to be certain. Head low, knees bent, he crouched on the side of the trail and gingerly walked parallel to the light footprints set in the hard ground. The definition in the heels revealed the maker to have worn boots and some fashion of armor as the footprints were too short to be a large creature, yet obviously heavy enough to sink in the frozen earth.

Or perhaps carrying a burden.

"I don't understand it!" Merlon blurted exasperatedly. "Why would he leave such a trail if he's tryin' to get away with Thom?"

Cuke nodded in agreement. "Indeed, it's almost like he wants to be found." The two dwarves stopped and gave each other a deadpan look.

"I see you've caught up then." the hunter replied. He stood then and pointed along the path. "They went this way, seems like his horse gave out or needed a rest so he's carrying him on foot. But Blaine's a crafty one and he'll find another way."

He swung back into the saddle and lightly pressed on Jiff's sides to set a light trot. The two ponies followed with Horsey tethered to them. They went on for several miles in silence as Outsider concentrated on the marks in the dirt. From them he was able to discern direction but not destination. They were headed west, back the way they had came from their inlet and where Cuke had been living. However he wasn't certain as to where they would go.

"They could go to Cain Sander." he said as they rounded up for the night in a small clearing surrounded by brush. "But that wouldn't explain why he would want me to follow him. What he could gain by meeting me there?" Outsider mused.

Merlon shrugged and set to getting the tinder alight. Cuke scratched his balding head and leaned back on one side to face him. "Maybe he seeks to find revenge and payment in one fell swoop."

The older dwarf cocked an eyebrow, not understanding.

"I mean, perhaps he wants to lure you there with Thom to kill you, and then bring Thom in for his bounty and make some coin." he explained. "Least that's what I would do."

"Would ye' now?" Merlon said slowly and deliberately. "And would ye' also kidnap someone, barely a boy, to make such copious amount of cents? Eh?"

The cleric shook his head and held his arms at his sides in confusion. "No, I wouldn't, I was just trying to help. It's a sound idea if this Blaine fellow is so pragmatic. Making money and pleasure together in one place is sound logic."

Merlon snorted and blew on the small tuft of grass he had kept in his pocket for a day to dry out as he set his sparks to it. Slowly the bright orange flecks began to smolder and catch, then would crawl about on the grass like maggots before dying out.

For several more minutes he struck away at it and for several more minutes warmth evaded him. After a particularly thick patch of sparks harmlessly bounced off the grass his patience was up.

"Damn it all!" Merlon cursed and threw down his stone. "Everythin's gone south now!" He turned around and stomped away from the camp, disappearing into the darkness. Only the sound of the crickets chirping slowly filled the brisk night air.

A moment later Cuke shivered and dusted his hands off. "Right. I'll handle this." He stood as tall as he could and braced himself, screwing up his eyes in concentration. "One fireball coming right up!"

Outsider tackled him to the ground then rolled back to his feet without slowing. "Why don't you just let me take care of it?" He took up the stone and bit of metal from Thom's old knife and scraped it with a loud grinding noise. A few minutes later and the grass caught with a tiny breath. He placed it beneath the teepee of tinder and leaned back on his elbows to survey his handiwork and enjoy the warmth.

For as much as he enjoyed the cold, a northern winter was nothing to go into unprepared. The weather, he believed, would be their biggest obstacle in finding Thom if it took too much longer. Already the wind carried the chill that would just as soon snuff a fire as burn your skin raw and the nights often had a light dusting of ice and sleet.

Outsider wrapped his cloak about him tighter and stoked the coals. He and Cuke were quiet for a long while and just watched the flames coil their way up the wood until their dancing was vivid enough to survive heavier firewood. The cleric dropped a log onto the far side of the teepee and slowly it began to smoke.

"I could have done it you know." he said quietly and staring straight ahead at the fire. "I could have made that campfire." He knew no reply would be forthcoming so he just nodded and continued. "I know I don't always get things right and sometime my spells go sour. But I can do so much now. So many things that even you, my oldest friend, have never seen me do."

He looked over his left shoulder to the hunter as he spoke. "You've always been so good at things. Talented and just picking them up as you go. I know you don't see it that way but I do, and I would kill for it.

"Every time something comes up you know what to do, meanwhile if I make a plan, it's usually shot down immediately or 'someone else should do it'. But I can do this. I can carry my own weight and give more. I just need the chance, Outsider."

The elf looked over at him then and they shared a nod. Cuke smiled then beneath his beard. "Just give me the opportunity and I'll prove myself."

Outsider cleared his throat embarrassedly; taking absolutely no comfort in such a personal conversation. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

"Who said it was you I had to prove something to?" Cuke replied, staring at the ground. The silence resumed then for several minutes until Jiff laid down behind Outsider who rested back against his side with a contented sigh.

"You've got a new horse." Cuke observed long ago but now had the time to clarify.

Outsider nodded and smiled as the gray gelding whinnied lightly. "Bought him off an old farmer who said he was too wild to be ridden and worth only for his meat." He laughed then at the memory. "I rode away on him an hour later after paying a single gold cent."

The dwarf howled with laughter and wiped tears from his eyes. All the previous tension melted away and was replaced by mirth. Even now as they searched for their lost friend who may be dead or worse even as they speak, they had to enjoy the little things in life lest they be driven insane. So when Merlon returned with a pair of dead conies in hand and declared he had also killed a skunk on accident, all laughed heartily and concentrated on that feeling.

That feeling they so often had dashed away.

"This meat is quite good." Cuke observed as he picked away at his bowl. "Might be that I should take a whack at rabbit one of these days. I'm an excellent cook you know." He smiled and continued eating, missing the look Outsider shot at Merlon in warning.

"I've heard that before I have." the old, grumpy dwarf replied as he wiped the stew from his beard. "And I learned long ago to decide for meself."

Cuke nodded and drained his bowl. "Then you'll be in for a treat my good dwarf! My seasonings are a rare blend of special herbs and spices I've found from all over. Very secret recipe mind you so you'll understand if I don't tell you all the ingredients.."

The two dwarves talked about food and their favorite dishes for nearly an hour. They compared rosemary to nutmeg and argued the difference between stew and soup until they were red in the face; which then led to an argument over whether cherries of tomatoes were a brighter shade of red.

Needless to say for dwarves, Outsider had to intervene before it led to blows.

"I'm going to Cain Sander to look for Thom." The debate broke and they both stared at him with mouths agape. They shared a concerned glance then looked back at the elf and at the same time both prepared to speak. "Alone." he cut in once more. The two dwarves again shared a look then turned to face him.

Merlon rested a hand on Cuke's shoulder to placate him. "Why alone?" his gravelly voice asked worriedly. Wrinkles lined his forehead as testament to his concern. "Wouldn't it be safer if we all went?"

"Yes." Outsider replied hesitantly. "And no. Blaine is a bounty hunter and relies on stealth as much as he does combat; something I understand and you two do not. No offense intended, but this is something I think I can better handle alone. I've got the mix of skills to track regardless of location.

"Meanwhile, you two should head out to Journ and see if you can't identify and get rid of whatever haunts the town. Then I can meet you there afterward with Thom in tow."

The two dwarves agreed reluctantly and knew the hunter's logic was sound. But that didn't mean they had to like it. After a night of planning they were up at dawn and fully packed for travel the following morning.

"If you go and get yourself murdered, I'll kill ye!" Merlon threatened with a shake of his fist. "I mean it, elf. There are too few dark elves in this land to prove they're not all bad. And even fewer who would help an old dwarf against some evil spirit." He shook Outsider's hand firmly. "Bring the boy back, Outsider."

Merlon clambered onto Ebony and steadied himself shakily atop even the little pony. Cuke did likewise but drew Ivory beside Outsider whom was whispering to Jiff.

"Well, at least let me tree travel you there." Cuke pleaded. "I know you don't like it but it's the fastest way to get back to Cain Sander. You might even get there first." he added as he saw the stubborn look in those gray eyes.

"Only if you can promise to do everything you can for Merlon and his home. He's done more for me than I can ever repay." the elf countered and Jiff pawed the ground in unison.

"Agreed." Cuke shook his hand and dismounted from his pony. He led them over to the tree they had used before and placed his hand flat against the rough bark. He whispered to the tree and called out to Reiin until his hand began to meld through the living wood. He smiled at the tingling sensation that numbed the end of his arm. "Are you all set to leave?"

"Aye, let's be on our way." Outsider replied and took hold of the cleric's shoulder, other hand holding firm to Jiff's reins which were wrapped around his wrist. Moving forward into the shadows he held his breath and closed his eyes.

Then opened them outside the great white wall he had passed weeks earlier.

"Here we are at the great city of Cain Sander!" Cuke announced smugly. "There goes a four day trip in less than four seconds." His eyebrow rose in a fashion as if to say, you're welcome. "Well don't go and screw this up. Thom's counting on you eh? And Merlon too."

Outsider nodded solemnly. "He really cares for the hobbit." He glanced over at Jiff and felt a similar emotion. "I don't think he has any children of his own, and not once has he mentioned a wife."

"It is not unusual for dwarves to spend much of their lives single and devote themselves to their work," Cuke explained. "However, the time for such a change is nigh for him; a reason I believe he cares so strongly for his town and its people."

The two shook hands briskly. "I shall not fail him Cuke, nor shall you."

With that, he turned about on Jiff and made off to the city, aiming for the tall, ironwood gates. He covered the field quickly and passed through the raised portcullis without looking back. Behind him, Cuke bowed his head and returned through the tree in a pull of shadow.

The hunter passed through the crowds after leaving Jiff at the stable. He slipped between the masses that bustled about to and from the many shops and business without bumping into a single one of them and quickly made his way atop the closest tower.

Taking the ladder, he stood tall on the roof and stretched then crouched low with eyes narrowed. He scanned the city from his viewpoint as thoroughly as he could memorize in such a short time; taking note of the more populated taverns and shops, as well as the shady alleys obviously devoid of guards.

A thousand buildings, shops here and there littered throughout the many homes and guard barracks, all a multitude of shapes and sizes which really showed the multiple races and heritages within the city. The taverns and inns had the heavy wooden architecture full of intricate carvings and stable foundations that would last generations; the dwarves' work, and a few shops including the chapels were of a light stone with great sweeping walls and decorated doors; made by the elves, and the last of all was the pragmatic and often cheaply crafted shops and homes of men.

The alleys he saw were narrow and between walls so tall they were in constant shadow, with decrepit old men passing in and out of them at random, sometimes with younger men and women. Once he saw a cloaked man emerge and he thought he had found Blaine, only to see the man ran through with a sword and fall to the ground without his hood on, showing him a human.

"Too many people here for this." Outsider whispered and slid down the ladder back to the ground. Eyes cast low; he sped through the streets like a specter, slipping into alleys and side passages without slowing his pace until he had crossed the city.

Scanning the room as he walked in, he settled in the front near the door of a pub named the Hangnail. With his back comfortably against the wall and his chair eased back enough for him to lean against it casually, he waited. A few minutes later, a scrawny man wearing rags and tattered pants sat across from him with a curt nod.

"How can I help ya friend?" he asked with a mostly toothless grin and scratched the scruff on his neck audibly. Outsider ignored the onion-like smell of body odor the man emitted.

"I need to find someone."

The man nodded again and tapped the table with two fingers. "Information don't come cheap."

Outsider smiled beneath his cloak. "Neither do doctors." the elf replied and pointed down. The man followed it and leaned to the side to look under the table, where a small crossbow was pointed at him. The man's eyes widened and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Don't you try to run or I'll have a bolt in the base of your spine before you take a single step."

The man gulped so loudly Outsider could have watched his Adam's apple rise and fall. He nodded for the third time then and gripped the sides of the table nervously.

"Who ya lookin' for then?" he whispered and his voice quivered nervously.

"A bounty hunter named Blaine."

The man's eyebrows rose then fell. "Never heard of 'em."

"Liar. You can't control your facial expressions as well as someone learned in the ways of deception. Now answer me truthfully lest you prefer a second naval." The crossbow clicked as he slid back the latch.

The man sat forward then and he looked near to crying. "Alright, alright! He hangs around a tavern named Six Feet Deep by the waterfront! But if he ever finds out I told you.."

Outsider watched the crestfallen man and flicked him a silver piece. "Trust me, if I get what I came for, Blaine won't be a problem for you." Then he laid the small hand crossbow on the table, pointing at the man, and pulled the trigger with a click. The man flinched with eyes squeezed shut and teeth grit.

A few moments passed before he realized there was no pain or sensation of poison coursing through his veins. He opened his eyes hesitantly and saw the mysterious cloaked man had vanished. Then he looked down at the crossbow and saw it was not only devoid of any bolts but broken as well.

He sighed deeply in relief and pocketed the silver piece with a nervous chuckle.
Chapter Twenty Five: Hunt and Seek

Six Feet Under stood just on the edge of the dock with half the building hanging over the edge and several support struts jutting up from the water to hold it aloft. The front of the tavern was derelict of paint and the roof along the porch had broken and fallen through until it was a V shape rather than the A it was before, blocking the top half of the door. As such a new entrance was made by busting a large hole in the wall a few feet to the right. A single large anchor was painted across the side with a red six fitted into it as nearly one shape.

Decrepit as the tavern was, it showed many signs of life. Aside from the boisterous voices that echoed from within and occasional shattering of glass, two men stood around outside the entrance with weapons at their hips, and several more sitting in chairs or on crates around the dock. A small lantern illuminated the darkness a dozen feet before the porch.

Two of the guards moved aside then as a fellow "peace-keeper" made his way through the door with a small man by the scruff of his jacket. With a vicious twist and kick the man was thrown from his feet then launched into unconsciousness as the heavy boot collided with his head. The guard laughed and spat on the small figure lying prone on the wooden planks.

"What'd he do, Grim?" one of the others asked as he ruffled through the man's pockets. "Must've really pissed you off for this eh?"

The large guard shrugged and took half the few pieces found on the man. "Spilled his drink on him."

"On who?"

Grim stared hard at the other guard and motioned with his head back to the tavern. "Him. If you don't know who I'm talkin' about then you're stupider than I thought, Jerr."

Jerr frowned for a moment then with an audible click, his teeth snapped together nervously. "You mean him?" His voice rose an octave as he said it.

"Yep. This guy here spills ale on his lap then starts laughing. So 'course I get in there 'fore it gets messy and knock this bloke's jaw outta' place. But he says it aint enough. So I just says 'yes sir' and took him out here."

"So who is he?" Jerr asked quietly with a nervous glance around. "Some of the guys hear things ya know."

"All I know, is he's one bad man to mess with who could kill you as quickly as smile at ya. And they say he aint even human."

Jerr's smile cracked across his face before he had even registered it. "It's a woman?"

Grim knocked him on the side of the head. "No you dunce! They say he's an elf of some sort." With a quick look behind him, he leaned forward and whispered, "My money's on dark elf."

Jerr's smile flipped upside down at the mere mention of the race. Against his will a shudder ran down his spine.

"Exactly. So take care of this guy now before he comes out here to check." Grim threatened then pointed to the unconscious man. "The usual spot is good; no one will see you out there.

"Show him our namesake," he ordered gruffly then stepped back inside.

Jerr shrugged and called for his friend to help him. Together they dragged the man, by his feet no less to leave his face in the ground, until they were a ways away at the dockyard. No lights were present this far out, and no other business had dared setup shop on their turf. Only the ships that came in to dock were allowed to stay and even then only for the good business sailors and pirates brought their establishment. As such, they encountered no interference as they strapped bricks to the man's ankles and slipped him off the dock with a splash.

"I love this job," Jerr guffawed. "Let's go, Mick." They made their way back to the tavern front laughing and swapping bar fight tales so exaggerated they were closer to war stories. "So this bloke, the one with the metal arms mind you, charges at me through two walls and—"

Jerr disappeared from sight as he fell to the ground with a loud exhale as the wind was knocked from him. He looked back and saw a figure lying prone in the dirt near where the first had been tossed. He looked around but saw no one else around.

"Guess Grim wants another one sent six feet deep." Mick chuckled and helped Jerr up who proceeded to kick the still figure vengefully.

"Damn fool to trip me! He'll get what's comin' to 'em eh?" Jerr sneered vilely with yellow teeth and purple gums. Each grabbing a leg, they dragged the figure back the way they had come to the darkest patch of dock then laid him out to fetch more rope and brick from the crate nearby.

"Bye bye idiot." Jerr laughed to himself and motioned Mick over. "Let's finish this one up quick and get back 'fore we get in trouble." Both grabbed a leg then when Mick paused.

"You think Grim already searched 'em?" he asked Jerr who similarly stopped. "I mean, you are the one who searched the other guy."

Jerr nodded and smiled. "See, Mick, that's why I like you. Just fulla' good ideas you are." Crouching on either side of the figure they opened his cloak then froze as two knives passed into their throats. Gurgling and thrashing they collapsed to the dock in a panic as the figure stood and dusted himself off.

"I didn't appreciate that kick earlier." he whispered and strapped the bricks onto Jerr's ankles with fading resistance and then tied Jerr to Mick. Slowly he tugged on the rope until they had slid to the edge. Both men too far gone to fight back limply sagged off the side of the dock.

"Men like you are a disease." Then Outsider pushed them off the dock with the toe of his boot. Turning back to the tavern he made his way through the darkness as easily as if it were fully lit, eyes glowing faintly. Picking off the guards one by one either with a well placed throwing knife or by stealthing his way to them, the area surrounding the tavern was devoid of life now, giving him that much more security.

Coming up behind the old building, he sprinted at the wall and leaped forward then off of it, catching the low hanging chunk of roof that angled off it behind him. Then carried by his momentum, swung up and over, onto the roof. Scanning the area once more as he had done before, he deemed it safe enough.

Taking careful steps with his soft soled boots to ensure he was silent, he tested every movement by leaning back on one foot while stepping with the other; checking the beams to ensure they would support his weight. Every time he progressed he waited for the inevitable creak to ease from the wooden ceiling below him, and when it didn't he hurried forward.

At last he made his way across until he was in position. Having glassed the area before nightfall, he had seen several sentries make their way to the roof by a hatch placed in the far corner that hung the furthest out to sea. Finally reaching it, he saw it was already open and illuminated.

He laid flat on his stomach and at an angle to see down it and into the room. Six Feet Under was a low class establishment he knew, and he had been to several in his line of business, but this one was appalling even to him. Gruff and vicious looking men crowded small wooden tables with foaming pints of ale sloshing about and spilling onto the filthy, detritus covered floor. Several holes were punched in the floor where the occasional drunk would stumble over to and relieve himself through, while the others would then shout lude comments at the scantily clad women who served the unruly crowd. Several times one of them was thrown to the ground only for the bartender, an immensely overweight and balding individual with a ferret-like face, to laugh and tell her to get up and earn her pay.

Around them were larger square tables where men in black sat across from a few patrons with a deck of cards laid out between them and games that ended as quickly as they started; often with fists. From his vantage point Outsider could see the spare cards flick from their sleeves and onto the table with a quick twist of the wrist, always leading to the sudden fury of predictably unpredictable drunk men.

A small woman at the far end made her way through with a tray of mugs only to be tripped and fall, shattering the glasses. Standing silently and trying to hold onto some dignity she made her way around the table and back to the bar where the barkeep leaned in close and whispered something. Outsider strained to hear his words but caught only the raucous clambering and shouting.

A moment later the woman made her way back with a fresh tray of drinks and sat them out quickly. Then seductively, she arched her back and leaned against the man who had tripped her. Stroking the side of his stubbly face with the back of her hand she smiled and winked her bright blue eyes.

"You seem like an intelligent man, sir. Am I right?" she cooed with an exotic accent similar to the tribal tongue of the southern islands. "And so handsome, surely you are a winner are you not, sir?"

The others grinned and cheered him on with the completely lack of subtlety only the inebriated can bestow. He cracked a wide smirk and held her close against him. "Why yes's I most's certainly is..am." He slurred and swayed slightly in his seat.

The woman nodded reassuringly and tugged on his arm. "Oh I can tell sir. Please, show me the way to win and be so successful. Show me." she breathed and he rose unsteadily. She led him over to an empty square table and sat him down.

The man wheezed a barking laugh and leaned back in his chair cockily. "Who'm I playin' lady?"

The woman sat across from him then and laid down a deck of cards. "Me."

The shock obvious on his face even through his stupor, he laughed even harder then and slammed down his purse with a heavy hand. "Sue its yerselfs." He turned back at the men who were watching intently and gave a clumsy thumbs-up and a cheer followed. He turned back around and found the cards already laid out in a line before him, faces up.

"All you have to do is find the match to your card there." she instructed, pointing to a card displaying a black mug. "It's here," she said and tapped a card exactly like it among the lineup. "First round." she announced with a smile and flipped all the cards over slowly then moved them around, mixing up the cards by sliding them facedown just as slowly as before.

The man guffawed and flipped over the matching card with a bellowing cry of triumph. The woman frowned exaggeratedly and hung her head low before sliding a small pile of silver cents to match his bet. "You win, sir." she pouted and stuck out her bottom lip.

The man grinned and grasped her hand. "One mores rounds, sugar," and he pooled his old silver with the new and slid it forward. "All's in it is."

The woman nodded reluctantly and agreed. "Oh, alright sir, but only if you go easy on me." The man laughed and waved her on to continue. With a flourish she shot the cards from one hand to the other then with a single finger flicked them from the deck and onto the table in a perfect line. Showing him where the match was then flipping them over again, she slid them around with amazing speed and finesse.

She leaned back contentedly and smirked at his dumbfounded expression. He turned back to the others who similarly were struck dumb and mouths hung agape. A mug or two fell and shattered on the floor. Hesitant and confused, he tapped a card with absolutely no conviction. She flipped it over with her thumb and gave him a quick wink, "Ooh, sorry sir, looks like luck is on my side this time. Care to go again?"

The man stared at her blankly then frowned. "You's a cheater you's is!" He stood suddenly and nearly toppled over but managed to catch himself on the table. He reached out for the money and missed, knocking over his drink, then tried again only to find the silver and his purse missing. Eyes wide and bloodshot in a drunken rage, he pushed the table away and rushed at the woman.

But she wasn't there anymore; she had slipped under the table and behind him. She tapped his shoulder and when he spun around, cracked her elbow against the underside of his jaw with a loud snap as his mouth clamped shut. The man's face went blank and the lights behind his eyes were out before he hit the ground with a loud snore.

The room was silent then and even Outsider was in a state of shock.

A moment later the sound of someone clapping broke the quiet. All eyes turned to a cloaked man in the far corner who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. He continued to clap as he strode forward to the woman then held up a long bladed dirk. Watching her face tighten and wan, he sneered and looking straight ahead into her eyes. Then without looking away, he flicked the blade to the left where it stuck in the table with a thunk.

He motioned to it with a slight incline of his head. The woman stiffened and made her way over to the table reluctantly. She looked down at it and saw the dirk had pierced a card and pinned it to the tabletop. Removing the blade with a jerk she held it up and looked at the card impaled on it. He snapped his fingers and held out his waiting hand.

She returned it and he smiled once more as he held up the card stuck on the weapon: the black mug. He snapped his fingers and held out his hand again until the silver was placed in his palm which he promptly pocketed. The dirk returned to its sheath and he took his seat at the back of the room in the darkest corner.

"Feel free to resume your evening, folks." he laughed and took a hearty gulp of ale. Slowly the chatter resumed as the men discussed what had transpired and the man was left where he fell. The barkeep sat across from the man and handed him another mug.

"On the house Blaine. We don't want no trouble." Perspiration beaded the creases on his forehead which seemed enlarged due to his lack of hair, and worry lined his chubby face. "Just let the girls know if you need anything." and he turned quickly to get away.

"Actually there is something." The barkeep stopped midstride and turned back around fearfully. "It has come to my attention that someone is looking for me. Any idea who?" The threat within his words was hardly hidden and Blaine stared coldly at the fat man before him.

"No of course not! If I had even the tiniest inkling of information you know I would tell you immediately!" he stuttered nervously.

Blaine nodded and kicked his feet up on the table. "Of course, Chester, of course. You are loyal to me out of fear and have not the bravery to stand against me. Isn't that right?"

"Yes." Chester replied without hesitation.

"How shameful." the bounty hunter replied and waved him on without another word or look. The barkeep did as instructed but was stopped by Blaine's next words. "Just thought you might since all your guards are dead."

Chester froze. He turned back and stared dumbly at the bounty hunter before him as if expecting the man to laugh and say he was only kidding. Oblivious to the condescending glare being shot at him, he continued to stare until the dark elf had had enough.

"So tell them to lock everything up already you insolent fool!" Blaine commanded and spun the dirk between his fingers menacingly.

Chester recovered as his job required. "Weapons out and doors locked! Get the boys downstairs up here!" The men scrambled about to do as they were told with Blaine watching and soon had the door latched, sword or axe in hand, and the ale safely tucked away.

One of the men made his way up the ladder and peered out the hatch, scanning the darkness, then returned inside and locked it with a chain. The others stood about in anticipation as those downstairs in an airtight part of the bar actually underwater ascended a second ladder to the ground floor.

"What's the problem, boss?" A hulking behemoth of a man with the tusk-like incisors and gray skin to prove his half orc heritage asked Chester.

"Boys outside are dead and someone's after Blaine. He thinks it's the same guy so we—"

"I know it's the same person." Blaine interrupted. "It is an old friend of mine."

"My apologies." Chester appeased. "It is the same man, so we must help Blaine defeat him. Not that he needs our help," he quickly added. "I want you and Grim to take the boys outside and search for—"

"Will you just shut up and stop giving such useless orders?" Blaine spat and leaned back further in his chair. "He's not out there anymore."

Chester screwed up his face in confusion. "Then..then where is he?"

"Well let's see," Blaine began slowly and deliberately as if instructing a small child. "If he's not outside then he must be.." He let the question hang a moment before Chester realized it was one.

"Inside! Then he must be inside." he answered in a quivering timbre and dropped his eyes to the floor. Everything about him screamed defeat and the others moved away from him for fear of the renowned bounty hunter's sudden flares of anger.

Blaine shook his head and drained his mug. "Why do you think I told you to lock everything up?"

Chester hesitantly answered as he still wasn't sure he understood and feared punishment. "To keep him out?" he breathed barely more than a whisper.

Blaine waved the answer away. "No dear Chester, I'm afraid not." He spun his dirk back around his hand and stuck it in the table beside him where he could reach it easily. "To keep him in."

The men squirmed uneasily and looked about the room uncomfortably. A few shared concerned glances and the group unconsciously huddled together closer. Grim pushed a small man away from him and broke from the crowd. "So he's hiding around here somewhere?"

"Of course not." Blaine shot back as if insulted. "He isn't hiding, he's hunting. So now we must seek him out, hunter versus hunter lest you become the prey."

Grim swallowed and flexed his arms at his sides. "So it's nothing more than a game?"

"Isn't everything? If you have to compete for all you do so as not to fail or lose, are you not simply trying to win?"

Grim set his jaw determinedly and hefted his axe. "Ain't no sneak gonna' kill me."

"Seeing as this is a game, why not have some fun?" Blaine offered. "Break out the black ale, Chester, the heavy stuff! Might as well let the boys enjoy themselves." Chester hurried to get the barrels of dark mead he had concocted himself illegally with entirely too much alcohol and set them up behind the bar.

Blaine smiled to himself as his fodder would soon become the perfect distraction once drunk and unruly.

As Chester heaved the barrels of black mead from the cellar and onto the counter, he noticed something peculiar then everything went white. A minute or two passed before anyone realized he hadn't returned. Grim called for him then made his way to the bar.

"It begins." Blaine whispered and leaned his chair back comfortably. "First the pawns...how predicta—"

An explosion rocked the building and he in his chair toppled over. Blaine rolled to his feet and jerked his dirk from the tabletop. "What the hell just happened?" he shouted over the cries of anger and pain. A bright light seared his eyes from across the room.

Flames spread from the back wall behind the bar where the potent black ale had been until half the tavern was burning. The men within them were either covered in the fire and flailing about futilely or standing in the crowd nearby. Blaine strode forward and saw it was no crowd but a ring as the drunken men faced off against the attacker.

One by one they dropped to the ground as the figure danced between their uncoordinated strikes until they wised up to the hit and run tactics and pressed him into too small a space. Blaine smiled and held back to see how things went.

Thinking quickly, Outsider leapt up and grabbed a beam in the low ceiling and swung onto it. He reached into his cloak and removed a pinch of his powder then flicked it into the flames below which roared and flared up angrily. The group of men below was blown away from the explosion and the flames grew in intensity.

He turned about just in time for the beam to collapse beneath him as Grim's axe hewed it in half. Outsider hit the ground on his back and slowly rolled to his feet. He looked up at the last second and narrowly dodged a few wild swings. He sidestepped them before taking a single step forward too close for the attacker to strike, and caught the big man's arm as he reared back to swing, then slid his knife between his ribs once, twice, thrice.

The heavy axe fell from Grim's fingers behind him then he dropped like a stone to the ground and was quickly consumed by the flames. Outsider turned away from him to face the others, however the fire had spread more than anticipated and chased the majority off to the lower deck.

Only the women and those too drunk to flee were left with him. He turned from the searing heat and crouched low to avoid the billowy smoke that seared his eyes and lungs. The women did likewise and screamed in fear as the roof began to collapse at the far end of the building where the fire began. The woman from before who had hustled the man approached him.

"Are you going to get us out or not?" she yelled over the sound of splitting of wood and the crackling inferno. "We work here out of desperation not by choice!"

Outsider matched her stare then nodded. "Have you seen Blaine?"

She shook her head and ordered the others behind them. She coughed as she inhaled some of the smoke and wiped her face. "No, why are you searching for someone so dangerous?"

Outsider swept his arms out to emphasize the destroyed and burning building, "And what am I?" then threw a handful of powder into the front wall which exploded on contact with the flames and blasted away the door.

The women rushed through but she stayed behind with him. "What about you?"

"I need Blaine alive." And he turned to the back of the room to the hidden hatch leading down the lower level. He threw down a small pinch of powder then tossed a flaming chair leg onto it. The small explosion blew open the hatch and a plume of smoke blew into his face.

Outsider rolled over to it and dropped down the shaft to the bottom floor with the others. They all instinctively backed away from him. "Where's Blaine? If you don't tell me I'll blow you all apart without a second thought! He held out the powder in the palm of his gloved hand. The half orc stepped forward first.

"That is nothing more than sawdust!" he challenged and slipped two large curving blades from his back that resembled sicles and gleamed with a keen edge. "This man is no more dangerous than Chester was!"

Outsider sighed and threw a small bit of the powder in the large half-breed's face. The fighter roared and struck out with both blades only for Outsider to block them with his knives and send sparks flying..

The half orc's face erupted in flames and he screamed a blaring wail of agony. He beat at his head blindly and thrashed all about to extinguish the white hot pain searing through his core. Outsider ignored him and repeated the question.

"He isn't down here! He disappeared as soon as the explosion went off!" a small man answered with eyes wide in fear. Outsider could read the honesty in his face. "I swear it's the truth!"

"Fine." He stepped aside from the ladder. "Everyone out." The group eyed him and not one moved. "Now!" They all rushed for the ladder and scrambled out and into the inferno. One by one they disappeared through the hole in the wall until only the dead remained.

Scouring the hidden room below for another hidden hatch or door, Outsider found only money and illegal drugs made by goblins and tribal mercenaries. "Damn!" he cursed and kicked open a wooden crate. From the hole in the crate spilled a helmet and small pile of gloves, all with an insignia he knew he had seen before; a red raven against a black sun.

A resounding boom echoed from above and he charged up the ladder only to meet a boot to the face. He fell back down and hit the floor hard. He stared up through a blurry haze and saw Blaine watching him with such an evil smile he couldn't help but scowl back.

"Well well, Outsider, I'm impressed. Not only did you manage to find me and slip into my hideout, but you singlehandedly destroyed it as well." He clapped a single time then dropped his hands. "You're definitely something more than before and I admit to underestimating you. But I promise it won't happen again." He turned his back to the hatch then turned his head to the side.

"Oh and by the way. Your little friend Thom has about twenty four hours to live before he's executed." He howled with laughter, bringing images of someone being tortured to mind and doubled over to slap his knee. "Just thought you ought to know."

Then Blaine gave a mighty kick to a charred support beam which snapped under the strain of holding the roof with inadequate support. A large chunk of the ceiling collapsed and with a deafening thunder-like clap that shook Outsider's teeth, buried the exit to the bottom story.

Outsider stared up at the rubble in the darkness and cursed again.
Chapter Twenty Six: Banter

"So lemme' get this straight," Merlon began. "Ye' think minin' is terrible, can't stand diggin', and spend most of your days readin'? I swear Thom is more of a dwarf than ye' are." He shook his head as he swayed side to side on his pony. "Do ye' at least know how to use an axe?"

"I prefer a mace." Cuke replied and tapped the silver weapon hanging off his belt. "But I bet I can drink you under the table."

Merlon pulled up short and grinned wickedly beneath his bushy beard. "Right, and I'm as clean shaven as an elf." he replied with dripping sarcasm. "Just gimme' the time and day, boy." Cuke laughed and for a moment forgot why he felt so uncomfortable with others of his kind. "So ye' ever gonna' grow out that baby beard or what?" Merlon asked then.

"Now I remember."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Just talking to myself." the cleric replied and shook his head, subconsciously stroking his short beard. "So how much longer until we get to Journ?"

Merlon looked to the sky to judge the time of day and where they were. "I'd say, weather permittin', eight days; ten if it be gettin' nasty."

Cuke nodded and did the math himself, coming to a similar conclusion.

"Why? Ye' gettin' tired already, boy?" Merlon challenged. "Cause I understand if ye' want a little potty break to rest your poor little legs."

"You just think you're tough as nails don't you?"

Merlon winked. "Tougher."

The two dwarves rode on all day bickering back and forth as their kind is inclined to do. Challenges and tests of honor and grit galore, with the both of them bound to a drinking contest, arm wrestling, a brawl, and seeing who could get the prettiest girl in an hour when everything was done with, and all before they were even halfway to Journ.

"Yer crazy, boy! No way ye' could get a dame like that," Merlon chuckled and genuinely smiled. "Ye must've just had too much o' the devil to drink that night."

Cuke shook his head stubbornly. "I'm telling you, she was the prettiest dwarf I ever saw. Long strawberry blonde hair, perfectly curved, with strong shoulders and a combed goatee neatly trimmed...she was perfect. And she came up to me."

"Wait a second. What'd she actually want?" Merlon inquired as he began to suspect something.

The cleric stiffened in the saddle. "Not important. The fact of the matter is she approached me to talk. Out of everyone in the tavern, she came to me."

"But what'd she say exactly?" A long pause split the conversation. "Come on boy, be honest with ol' Merlon."

Cuke groaned and dropped his head in defeat. "She asked me...'Where's the bathroom?'."

Merlon laughed so hard he fell from the saddle and rolled the entire way down the slope they were descending. Tears streamed down into his beard and his lungs burned as he couldn't stop giggling. Cuke glowered at him and rode past as Merlon struggled into the saddle.

"Oh come now, boy, don't get so offended! I didn't mean nothin' by it." Merlon called and sped up to pull alongside him. "Here, tell ye' what. I'll tell ye' a story about somethin' I had like that happen."

Cuke glanced at him apprehensively. "Go on."

"Right. So there I am, spendin' me hard earned coin on drink as usual at me favorite inn. I've been there an hour or so and ain't seen nobody I know so I'm sittin' alone in the corner to keep outta' the way, when this woman walks up to me and just sits down at me table."

"What'd she look like?" Cuke asked as if far away as he tried to imagine the scene. His eyes were closed and he leaned back slightly to look up.

"She was tall, real tall; probably five feet, and had straight black hair down to her waist. But her eyes were a bright green like an oak in spring with the face of an angel. So I tells her hello and me name, and she just stares at me for a moment. So I figure somethin's on me face so I rub at it and try to clean meself when she just laughs the most beautiful melody ye' ever heard.

"I asked her what was so funny and she says, 'Ye' get so nervous 'round me, I was just wonderin' why.' So I tells her it's 'cause she's so pretty and I don't know what to say. And she laughs and smiles again and I order us a couple of drinks. And this girl puts it away like it was nothin'. Next thing I know, she's had a dozen mugs and I'm all outta' coin."

"What happened?"

Merlon leaned forward in the saddle. "She said thanks and left."

Cuke opened his eyes and paused as his dream scene was cut short. "That's it? She just got up and walked away?"

"Yep. Not another word or nothin', just up and vanished. I never saw her again and still don't know her name." Merlon said wistfully. "But if I did.."

"You would sing it to the heavens and win her heart?" Cuke asked hopefully, a true romantic. "Then court her and get married, then have five or six little babies and raise them together until they move out and go their own ways and you two turn old together?"

Merlon frowned at him and spat. "Heck no, I'd ask for me money back! And I'm already old."

Cuke, crestfallen yet appeased by their share of romances gone wrong, laughed and accepted them as being equal. "Alright, alright, that..that's pretty bad."

"Pretty bad? I've never felt so cheated in me life. I've had folks take me money before or the occasional animal. But nobody, and I mean nobody cheats me outta' me ale." Merlon fumed then relaxed visibly. "I haven't a drop of the stuff in months. All of it in me town vanished with everyone else."

Cuke's curiosity had been piqued for a while now but he hadn't put much thought into anything other than what it might be. "Any idea why you weren't taken?"

Merlon shook his head and shrugged. "I've asked meself that a hundred times and still have no answer."

"What was it you actually did there?"

"I retired from the army a while back and started up a business shapin' metal. Not just weapons mind ye' but fancier things like jewelry too. I was pretty good at it if I say so meself. I've been workin' a forge since I was a pup and made plenty of weapons and suits of armor for the old king's army I did."

"Which king?" Cuke asked somewhat surprised. Merlon had never mentioned working for a king of some sort and he wondered why something of that magnitude hadn't been.

"King Haren Grindstone, he was in charge of the dwarven kingdom in the east when I was young. Eventually he spread out so much that his rule was split apart by several barons who later disbanded, severin' the kingdom into six different nations." Merlon said quietly. "When that happened, it was like a civil war but with so many sides it was impossible not to lose someone ye' cared about...That's when me father left and disappeared into another nation."

Cuke lowered his gaze respectfully and waited several moments to give Merlon time to reflect. "What about you?"

"Me? Well I was known for being such a good smithy that I wasn't about to let that get ruined. So I didn't join any of 'em and worked as a free agent, takin' special contracts here and there all over the place."

"Sounds pretty smart." Cuke admitted and tried to hide his shock.

"It was for a while, before they started askin' for information. Who I was buildin' for, what they were asking me to make, how much to spy on 'em? Eventually I just saved up enough gold to buy me own shop and work out of there." Merlon smiled at the memory. "Journ was just beginnin' when I got there. Only a small inn and a delivery service were there and I knew it was the perfect spot. No competition, someone to ferry me orders to and from, and most important of all, somewhere to drink."

"So you still take special contracts?"

"Here and there between the usual work. Me excess always ships to the surroundin' cities where I give 'em a cut in exchange for spreadin' out me wares. Not as good as before but I was doin' alright."

Cuke sifted through theories and marked off revenge and sabotage. "What do you sell the most of?"

Merlon reached into his pack and pulled out a small totem. "Silver symbols of deities that go on necklaces and the like. They've been a big seller for years 'cause folks like to represent their gods when they go to war and distant lands."

"Silver and holy?" Cuke was beginning to formulate a new hypothesis. "Which places do they sell the best?"

"Typically Cain Sander, Delvin, Briggand Sails; all the big cities 'round here. Why?" Merlon's eyebrows smashed together and his forehead wrinkled.

"Because I think you've angered some kind of demonic force. You keep selling these religious totems made of silver, two things they hate, and the more they get sold and passed around, the fewer places their strength will hold." Cuke stated. "It's like you've been creating weapons specifically against them then selling them to the most populated locations they could gather worship from."

"Worship?" Merlon blurted. "What're you talkin' 'bout?"

"A lot of demons serve dark gods like Crypt, Shogul, and Sin. Therefore, they gain power as their masters do, and gods gain power by being worshipped. These demons gather energy from the things their masters stand for like murder and stealing, some just general chaos," Cuke explained. "So with those holy trinkets going out, it weakens their hold and presents a problem for them. So maybe one got loose and decided to make sure you stopped making them."

"Why not just kill me then?"

"Isn't this worse?" Cuke asked honestly. "Being all alone and unable to find the ones you care about? Not knowing if they're alive or dead?"

Merlon went silent then and stared at the ground as they rode on. "So it's me own fault." Silence permeated them and soon the sun fell. They dismounted and setup a small campsite off the road within a thicket, and still they did not speak. Merlon set to getting the fire going while Cuke prepared some of the meat they had left.

They ate their dinner slowly and avoided eye contact with one another. As soon as he finished, Merlon slipped into his bedroll and closed his eyes, back turned to the fire where Cuke watched him. An hour or so passed when Cuke laid down as well.

He stared up at the night sky and shivered at the cold. He glanced over at Merlon whose breathing was still too fast to be sleeping and sighed. "I miss the arguing."
Chapter Twenty Seven: Perspective

Outsider pressed against the rubble atop the hatch with all his might, even supporting himself upside down on the ladder to push with his legs. He grit his teeth and groaned as he continued to push until he was shaking but the mound didn't budge. He dropped to the floor and his legs gave out on impact. He laid there a moment to breathe and recover some of his strength, knowing he didn't have much time.

He was fully aware that this room was underwater and could collapse at any second, but his muscles refused to obey. Steadily he calmed his breathing and his heart slowed enough that he was able to sit up. He sat against the wall and looked up at the ceiling.

"One hatch; obviously obstructed, and walls that give way to the sea...fantastic." He stood and stretched as he scanned the room for the umpteenth time. He looked down from the wall to his daggers then shook the thought away. "I need something heavier."

He reached for the explosive powder at his belt then thought better; he didn't want to risk bringing the flaming tavern down on top of him. A thought popped into his head.

He turned to where the others had been and found what he was looking for: the two sickle-like swords the half orc had dropped. He swung them around experimentally to test the weight and found them very similar to that of a scimitar or rapier. Satisfied, he concentrated all his focus into his arms and with a spin, leapt into the air then brought them down point-first into the wall.

Both bit into the wood deeply and punched through as his momentum carried them down. Salt water began to seep through the crack and ran down the wall to the floor. Sweating and gasping for air, he hammered away at the sword and drove it lower and lower inch by inch until the hilt hit the floor with a splash.

Beholding the tall line in the wood that bled water profusely into the room, he kicked it a few times and was jarred back as the pressure of the water kept him from breaking through. He found another helm; this one not bent and warped, and began working on the second sword in the wall.

Several minutes later it was halfway down when the wall suddenly shifted and the new "door" slammed forward and into Outsider. It smashed into his face and he felt his nose break with a sickening crunch. Temporarily blinded by tears and spitting blood from his lips, he wrestled the door off of him and gripped the sides of the wall as he tried to force his way through the torrent of water rushing inside. He was close but found he was no match for the sheer pressure of it.

He cursed again as the water rose to his chest. The icy cold soaked into his bones and numbed his limbs; taking his breath away. He clumsily climbed up the ladder again and pressed some more against the resolute debris then remained there as the water rose. He took a deep breath when it passed his chin and before long the room was full. Swimming as quickly as he could, he dived down to the hole he had carved and through it.

With the room completely filled, no more water rushed through the opening and left him with a viable way out. Weighed down as he was by his cloak, armor and weapons, he slowly made his way toward the surface. His lungs burned and ached like he had inhaled glass and he had trouble determining direction as he began to turn lightheaded. Before him all he could see were colors swimming before his eyes in shimmering opaque hues so deep he couldn't see anything behind them.

His chest began to shake and contract.

His mouth opened, he couldn't stop it.

He closed his eyes tightly.

He inhaled a deep lungful.

And gasped as he broke the surface.

He clutched the nearest chunk of debris that floated past and focused on not vomiting. His head swam dizzyingly and all the world was spinning around him on an inverted axis. He floated there with his face pressed to the cool plank of wood and set his mind to breathing steadily. In and out, in and out, for several minutes before he was ready to move.

A familiar voice called out to him in a loud whisper. "Hey, stay down there. Don't come up yet or they'll find you."

He nodded slowly as if he had cotton in his ears and tried to focus his eyes. With enough concentration he was able to shift them into the dark spectrum and made out the shape of a woman before him on the docks. The one who had hustled the man before, he realized.

He paddled the flotsam beneath the docks and remained there as voices rose above him. He strained to understand what they were saying even though he could hear them clearly. It was as if his knowledge of the human language here had been washed away from his brain, driving him into frustration as he realized he has missed everything and the voices were gone.

The reflection of the woman appeared in the water beside him. "Come on, follow me." she bade him and he began to swim around the dock to the far side. He followed her slowly and made sure his hood was still up when he came ashore. The woman turned to him and held out her hand.

He stared at it until she pulled it away. "Right. Well, my name is Natalia, and I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there."

Steadily her words began to seep in through his skull and he found his vocabulary. "For blowing up your source of income? Anytime." Outsider croaked sarcastically then coughed up salt water with burning heaves.

Natalia laughed and shook her head. "You saw my source of income, my cards. That place was a prison. He paid us miserably and charged us room and board so it was impossible to get free of his debt."

"Debt?" Outsider's eyebrow arched up in curiosity within his hood, but in the darkness she would be able to see nothing but his faintly glowing eyes.

"I wasn't always good at the game." she replied and looked away. "I've been there for two years trying to pay off what I owe by hustling games, but he kept adding interest to everything I had remaining. But now, he's dead and I'm free. So thank you."

"Well you're welcome I suppose." he responded awkwardly.

"You suppose?"

"Well," he began. "Most people don't thank me; in fact, no one thanks me for what I do. Why thank someone who captures other people like they're some kind of animal?"

She shook her head and motioned for him to sit. "A lot of people are some kind of animal. They deserve no better and you could do a lot worse. I assume you're a bounty hunter like Blaine?"

"I'm a bounty hunter, but not like Blaine."

"Of course, you're right. I've seen him in action a few times and he rarely brings them in alive. Even for bounties not punishable by death." Natalia added. "Well you could be much worse to them, even if they don't deserve your mercy."

Outsider stared at her incredulously even though he knew she couldn't see it. "What mercy? Did you not see me kill those men in there? At least a dozen lay dead by my hand, several more in the fire."

"But you spared even more of them. And not a single one of them was a good person. They've all killed someone and make a living off of fear and thievery. And you had to have seen the drugs they sell, the kind that slowly rots away what makes you you until you're just an empty husk."

Outsider stood impassively and tried to ignore all the questions he asked himself now, questions she had planted in his mind with her different perspective of his work. He hated himself for what he had done and knew it would be hard to accept it as his life, but now she was raising doubts as to how evil it had actually been. Perhaps by taking in criminals and dealing death to those too unruly he really was saving others.

"Regardless," he said after a lengthy pause and tenderly felt his bent nose. "Being alive is nothing to thank someone else for. You survived for two years on your own; you would have gotten out eventually."

She shrugged indifferently. "Maybe, maybe not, I don't know. But I do know you got me out tonight which is a lot sooner than I could have ever done." She smiled and looked over her shoulder into the dark alley. "You may think what you do is wrong or evil, but if you really look around and see what some of the people you punish are doing; you'd see how much it helps."

"Maybe, maybe not, I don't know." he echoed and turned away. She called out "Wait!" and grasped his shoulder, and then purely reactive, he gripped her wrist and twisted her arm about behind her toward her neck. He released her as soon as he realized what he'd done and backed away. "Sorry."

She paused for a moment and took a step back. "Its fine, but you can't go yet, they'll be looking for you. Even the Guard are in their pocket so they have eyes everywhere. The best thing you can do is lay low and get out of Cain Sander. I can help you with that; my sister owns a small inn and smuggles the oppressed like us out of town on the side."

But Outsider was already shaking his head. "Those guards are exactly the people I need to see."

Distress covered her face and she rubbed her temples. "Okay, why would you want to do that?" Lines began to crease her face, he noticed, and he studied her. She was thin and had an almost regal look to her, with high cheekbones, tanned skin and sharp features softly rounded with a feminine quality. He remembered her dark hair and light eyes from within the tavern and wondered why she was so determined he not get into trouble.

"I'm serious; picking a fight with the guard is a terrible idea. All you'll accomplish is getting yourself killed; they won't jail you because you know too much. What could possibly convince you to do such a suicidal thing?"

"They have a friend of mine." Outsider explained. "And what do you care of my doings?"

She looked up in startled confusion. "Where? In the prison?" He nodded the affirmative and she rubbed her temples with both hands. "And what're you going to do? Fight or sneak your way in past all their forces, locate his cell, pick the locks, break him out and escape together?"

"Yes," he stated matter-of-factly. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Escape back into the city they own? Cain Sander is more of a prison than their jail will ever be." She stepped toward him and reached out for his face. His hands caught hers before they could reach his hood and she stared at him. "I care, because you were able to save me and the other girls. You did what no one else would in a single night, and unintentionally, so if anyone could make a difference in this place, it's you."

He still held fast to her wrists despite the honest hope in her words stinging him. He released her and remained silent. Slowly she backed away a pace and held her arms up unthreateningly. "I just want to take a look at your face; I saw you feeling your nose earlier. Is it broken?"

"I think so...got hit by a wall." he said and reached up to his face without realizing it. She came forward again and reached under his hood. "Don't pull it back." he warned her and she nodded.

Feeling the bridge of his nose with two fingers, she determined where the break was very quickly. "You've split the slope of your nose in two places, but they're clean breaks." She pressed slightly with her thumb and he winced beneath her touch. "Okay, on the count of three I'm going to set it."

Outsider nodded and held his breath, jaw set determinedly and eyes closed. "Do it."

"On the count of three," she repeated. "One—"She pressed suddenly together, thumb to thumb, and his nose popped back into place with a snap. Outsider jumped back and grit his teeth as the sharp pain flared and blood dribbled down his chin.

"What happened to three!?" he growled and spat some of the red from his lips. Steadily the pain gave way to a numb relief and he found he was able to breathe through his nose once more.

"It's always worse when you're expecting it, this way it was sudden and caught you off guard." she explained. "You're welcome..?" She left the question in the open and waited to see if he would answer it, inwardly knowing he would just because he had so few to talk to; women's intuition she called it.

"Outsider." he replied quietly and wiped the blood from his face on his hand then turned back to the docks. Natalia followed him over and sat beside him as he washed the blood from his face with the water.

"Is that your bounty hunter name?" she asked him, trying to read his body language since his face was hidden. He remained resolute and continued washing his face and hands. "Salt water will make it sting more," she whispered. "I know from experience." He looked over as she slid one of her sleeves down from her tight-fitting tunic and leaned away from him.

A spiderweb of scars crisscrossed her shoulder, some thick and others thin; like an assortment of worms beneath her skin. They shone brightly in the moonlight, pale against her olive skin as he reverted his eyes to the normal spectrum and seemed stretched as if she had grown and they had not.

"I got them as a little girl." she breathed low and almost to herself, still staring away. "They continue across my entire back, arms, and legs; almost everywhere. My battle scars they were called by those responsible." She shuddered and pulled her sleeve back up then her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I'm from the southern islands as you can probably tell, from a little village named Verillex, but the people here call it Vexus."

Outsider faintly remembered overhearing tale of the island Vexus, so called for its beautiful women who could vex a man with a single look.

"One day as I was helping my father fish for our dinner we saw boats on the horizon. They were an ordinary sight as we were near the larger islands that often had traders and merchants visit them so we paid it no heed. That night they attacked our village, burning our homes to the ground, taking the men and women as slaves. Those who fought back..like my father.."

She lowered her head and took a deep shaky breath as tears fell into the sea with a mesmerizing conglomerate of ripples. "The rest of us were taken on their ships in chains to be sold on the mainland. They came for me one night, drunk and looking for some 'fun'." She shivered and shut her eyes. "I refused and scratched one of them across the face. So they took me to the deck and called everyone there to watch as I was whipped to unconsciousness, then dipped into the saltwater as soon as I awoke."

She turned to him then and stared into the dark abyss of his hood. "The pain was overwhelming." she stated simply. "Yet nothing compared to losing my home and family." She stared out to sea and took a deep breath to steady herself, wiping away a few more tears. "I was sold to a private group the next week, along with all the other young girls. When they came for us, we were all so frightened already, but when we saw what they were.." She shook her head and stared dead ahead. "They were dark elves who had bought us, and they were behind the entire raid. They funded the pirates to go out so far and find the 'infamous island of Vexus'." she said with enough venom to kill a man.

Outsider stiffened and sat up straight then, watching her carefully. Something in the back of his mind warned him to leave now, to let this woman go on her own path alone and he on his. He didn't fear her or anyone for that matter, but she had connections in the city, connections that could very well prove formidable to face. But something kept him there, perhaps their mutual hatred for what he was.

"They took us to the mountains where they had a secret tunnel network to the Shadowverse. The ones who could speak this language taught us the basics of common and a couple even told us a few words of dark elven, but only enough to tell us the horrible things they were going to do to us that had no name in any other language." She picked up a small pebble and skipped it across the water. "The next morning when the sun was at the highest point in the sky, I and three other girls left the group and ran. We went on and on for hours before we noticed they weren't following us. So we setup camp that night in a small area of the forest. But that's when they're active. That's when they found us."

Outsider tried not to picture it but couldn't stop the flashes that seared through his head. Blood. Darkness. A face frozen in terror. Blank eyes glazed over and unseeing. The warm wet of someone dying in his arms. A song drifted through his mind. He turned his head away and bit his lip until the pain sent the visions away.

"We were all too scared to sleep so we huddled together against the cold when the girl next to me seemed to have finally drifted off. I looked at her and shook her but she wouldn't wake up. Then I saw another girl fall over, except this one had a crossbow bolt in her back. I wanted to scream but couldn't breathe when the bolt hit me." She rubbed the side of her neck with her palm as she spoke. "A group of hunters heard the commotion and rode in then. It wasn't until the day after that I woke up, surrounded by the girls' bodies. The bolt that hit me had gone all the way through so the poison hadn't fully dispersed in my bloodstream...and that was considered lucky.

"The men were gone; probably thought we were dead or got killed themselves. So I made my way to the nearest town over the next week, living off whatever I could find until I found this place. I got a job as a server girl from the sister I told you about, but she's not blood. She took me in and raised me with her family and I knew I could never repay that. So two years ago I left to win it big at the tables and...well you know the rest. She's tried to help me so much but I wouldn't let her pay my debts, not after so much she's already done for me."

They were quiet then for a long while as Outsider digested everything she had told him. On one hand, he couldn't understand why she told him all of this; they had only known each other a few hours and he could very well have been lying. Yet on the other hand he understood completely; having someone to vent your frustrations to, someone to understand what has made you become the person you have, and it was why he had told Thom his story. Or some of it at least.

He nodded and cleared his throat nervously, deciding to take a risk; a new type of risk at least. "Outsider is the only name I have ever known. My parents were killed when I was a small child, too small to remember their names or faces. I was taken just as you were...except no one saved me." She turned to face him and true pain filled her eyes as she beheld him. "I was raised to kill and forced to on a daily basis my entire childhood, always kept separate from anything resembling a life. I managed to escape once I had grown and I've been free for a few years now, but what transpired, what I've done, will always haunt me."

He looked her in the eye and whispered, "It's what I am." then lifted back his hood to rest on his shoulders. He had to admit the breeze ruffling through his hair and caressing his face was pleasant, especially on his sore nose, but the look he received; the look he knew he would always receive, would never be worth it.

Natalia stared at him in shock, taking in every little detail of his face, then scowled with such ferocity he expected her to strike him. Her eyes burned into his and he stared back as innocently as one of his kind could manage. Without a word she stood and backed away from him, too fearful to turn away where she couldn't see him, but when he made no move to follow she ran into the alley and disappeared into the night.
Chapter Twenty Eight: Plan of Action

"You call this thing a bed? I've slept on rocks more comfortable!" Thom roared at the passing guard through the bars of his cell. He turned away angrily and kicked his empty bowl across the room with a clatter. "What do I do now?" And he threw himself down on the cot and stared up at the stone ceiling.

The guard returned then. "I don't think it matters just how uncomfortable your bed is, prisoner." he sneered. Thom stared at the armored man and saw only disdain on his helm-laden face. "You've got a date with the executioner tomorrow night little buddy."

Thom's chin hit his chest. "What? What're you talking about?"

"You shouldn't have killed those travelers for their food, maggot. You know, the ones you stuck with a knife in the back? Your captor told us all about it." The guard hocked some phlegm in his throat and spat on the stone floor. "Coward."

The hobbit slammed his head down on the cot and shut his eyes to keep away his fears. His heart pounded in his chest and thoughts raced through his head. His little hands trembled as he wiped the cold beads of sweat from his brow and rubbed his face.

"What was I thinking trying to go around adventuring with those guys? This, right here, this cell, is all I would ever get out of it. And here I am rotting away behind bars while they go live it up outside with their soft beds and warm food.." He drifted off to sleep with dreams of exactly those things he missed most to escape his prison, literal and figurative.

***

Outsider spent the night resting and meditating on what he would soon have to do. Breaking out of prison wasn't something entirely new to him, but breaking into one was; not to mention bringing someone else out with him. Within his waking dreams he imagined the prison and tried to remember what the inside of it looked like. He had only been in its confines for a single night before escaping through his window, but he had spent the majority of those hours incarcerated trying to memorize its layout.

Three floors, maximum security on top, intermediate in the middle, and lowest at the bottom; with those awaiting execution at the highest. Guards posted at every landing on the stairs and two patrol each hallway. The kitchens are in the lowest level underground with a cellar which has a single entrance internal to the building only.

He thought over what Blaine had told him before, with Thom having twenty four hours to live and paced the empty room. He had found an abandoned building that had mostly burned away in a fire some time ago but still had a room here and there intact. So far no one had come around but he remained quiet just in case, always cautious. He leaned forward and set his head against the wall.

He'll be on the top floor then, a small cell with a single barred window facing a fifty foot drop to the middle of the city. The surrounding buildings are at least twice that distance away to ensure no one can make a jump and they constructed a wall just in case.

He did an about face and slid down the wall to sit. As he did he stared through the upper half of the far wall which was missing. Through it he could see a large building across the street with a single lit window facing him and a clothesline swaying in the wind from it.

A sudden thought grew in his mind. He rummaged through his pack and removed the recurve bow pieces. Stringing it together securely, he tied a length of rope around an arrow and fired it across the room experimentally. The arrow flew a short distance with a twang then dropped and hit the floor.

Rope's too heavy, he told himself and reeled it back in. Using his trusty knife he split the rope lengthwise and carefully separated the strands that intertwined to make the thick rope. Tearing a length free, about a third of the size of the total, he tied it about the nock of the arrow, drew, and let fly.

The arrow soared across the street then stuck in the wooden wall near the window with a muted thunk and held fast. Excited, Outsider dropped the bow, tied the rope off to the knife he had stuck between the floorboards, and gripped the rope. Gingerly, he stepped off the floor and wrapped his legs around the rope until he was hanging upside down from it as if he was crawling.

"Here goes nothing." he whispered and began making his way across. The rope swayed in the breeze and he held on tighter, gripping the rope tightly with his gloves and continued sliding himself across. He looked down and saw the ground two flights below him; a stone pathway and devoid of life. With a sigh and groan he pressed on until he was halfway across, taking note of that fact just as the rope snapped between him and the arrow.

He held on as the rope swung free, back toward the abandoned building, and fought the urge to scream as the wind rushed past him and roared in his ears. His head narrowly missed the street by an inch and brushed his hair. A sickening lurch and bout of vertigo later, he was thrown through a charred and decrepit wall of the burned building with a loud smash.

Lying there stunned amid the debris and small cloud of smoke, he coughed and rolled over to relieve the pain in his back. "Well that was unpleasant."

***

The next morning, Thom rose with the sun and immediately began banging away at the bars on his window with his spoon until it bent and snapped. With a cry of exasperation, he pressed against it with his bare hands until they bled and he was out of energy. As such he gratefully devoured his morning bowl of rice and slice of bread.

"Look at this 'un go," the guard pointed to the other. "He's goin' mad with fear and thinks he can bust himself out." The two men laughed and made their way down the hall to feed the others.

Thom ignored them and finished his bowl with gusto. Not nearly filled up enough but content for the time being, the hobbit wrapped his blanket through the bars in a U shape and began pulling on the fabric with both feet against the wall until he was parallel to the floor. He tugged and tugged until he was drenched in sweat but only succeeded in ripping the fabric and sprawling to the floor on his back.

Winded and weary, he laid there for an hour just imagining the multitude of ways he would get himself out if he were Outsider. He played around with the thought of using his secret powder to explode the whole wall then unleashing all the prisoners on the guards.

"Last day on earth, prisoner!" the guard called as he walked past, killing Thom's buzz and ending the crooked little grin on his round face.

***

The day crawled past as Outsider made his preparations. Ensuring it would hold, he had plenty of rope at just under half the original diameter and plenty lengthwise by tying the ends together. His bow was currently unstrung to preserve flexibility without compromising tension and his knives sheathed along his wrists as usual. The rest of his pack however was stashed away just outside the wall in the branches of a tree. Now, hiding atop the nearest roof, he sat in wait for the sun to fall.

He knew executions commenced at eleven each night and he planned to have him out by ten, giving them an hour to escape before anyone realized Thom was missing. Hopeful maybe, but not impossible, he assured himself. As light as he was now without his extra supplies he and Thom should have no problem on a thicker rope.

Now using the final rays of sunlight to see into the cells from afar, he determined the far one on the right to be devoid of any inhabitants. As much as he wished he could go straight for Thom's he didn't want to risk arriving at someone else's and alerting anyone to his presence. Thus, the far right cell was his most viable option.

He played the scenario over in his head again and again, reciting it; rope across, saw through bars, rope across after Thom, use cover of night to go over wall, set out for Journ immediately. He knew it was a sound plan as far as risky operations went, but still the twinge of nervousness in his muscles reminded him of the responsibility upon his shoulders and the repercussions of what would happen should he fail.

Not tonight, he promised and sat with his legs crossed, settling into his meditation to rest and sharpen his mind as he waited for the sunset. He fell into himself until the world was only a vague outline; just enough to stay alert but not so much as to escape sleep. Allowing his dreams to come over him, he accepted the lessons they held and reflected on them intensely; specifically when he imagined Natalia attacking him for what he was and not who he was.

Who am I to deserve mercy? I have killed, I have stolen, and I have lied, yet here I am being told by someone that I should realize how much good I do. The same person who left as soon as they saw my face. Does that mean she was wrong and I am doomed to be nothing more than an outcast among monsters? Or was she right all along and simply couldn't face her own inner demons?

He then became aware of a chill breeze blowing across his face and shivered, retracting from his dreams. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, switching to the dark spectrum. He glanced about and saw he was still alone then peered over the edge to the street where a few people still bustled about. He gauged the distance to the prison to be about ninety feet away and sixty feet tall, with a twelve foot wall splitting the ground below him.

The moon illuminated the night dimly as clouds periodically passed over it, leaving an on-and-off darkening that threw off depth perception. Luckily, this was of little importance to the dark-seeing as depth perception is already warped through the spectrum and he learned long ago to accommodate for it. As such, his first shot hit the mark between two bricks and dug into the mortar securely.

He pulled on the rope as mightily as he could manage and still failed to remove the arrow. With a satisfied nod, he disassembled the bow and placed it back in his pack, then wrapped his legs around the rope and ascended a slight rise toward the window hand over hand.

Ignoring the swaying of the rope as the frosty night breeze buffeted him he retained his steady pace and grit his teeth determinedly. He knew that from this height he would appear as nothing more than a dark blur against the sky, nigh invisible at this time of dusk in this season. All in all, it couldn't be a better time of the year for him to bust someone out of prison.

He smiled at that and knew he would have come for him even in the middle of the day in summer if he had had to. Empowered with sheer will and a refusal to fail his friend, one of the few, he crossed the distance and used one leg to prop himself on the windowsill. He peered inside quickly and removed Darkbane from the sheath under his arm. He pulled his cloak up to conceal its magical glow and praying the enchantments on it would hold, began sawing away at the iron bars.

To his immense surprise and pleasure the blade passed through cleanly and quietly. Not even a spark spent, the iron bar was cleaved through. Smiling once more with success so close at hand, he quickly went to work on the others and a few minutes later had them all severed from their base. Several tense moments later, and he was inside the cell.

Relieved it was indeed empty; he placed the iron bars on the cot and quietly made his way to the door with a lockpick in his grasp. Before beginning he pulled a small vial of oil from his pocket and greased the hinges to the door to ensure they wouldn't squeal and give him away. He crouched low and glanced about to ensure no one would see him then reached around through the bars to the lock. Inserting the pick slowly and securely, he felt the tiny tumblers with his deft fingers and soon, with a twist and a click, the door swung open.

***

Thom paced about his room and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. His heart felt ready to leap through his chest and beat so loud it drowned out everything else. His face felt hot and the rest of him cold so he continued to fan himself as he shivered until his teeth began to chatter. Bloodshot eyes and pale, Thom looked as if he had already seen the executioner.

***

Outsider rushed down the hall as fast as he could go quietly in his soft soled boots, ignoring the voices that murmured both in sleep or confusion, and to the last cell. He threw himself against it and gripped the bars tightly to peer through. Straining to see the figure within the blankets he craned his neck to the side when the prisoner rolled over.

"He's not in there." Outsider whispered and his eyes widened in fear. He was running out of time but still had at least another score of cells to check. A voice in the back of his head urged him to run and flee this place; his honed instincts always leading him; but this time was different. He refused to leave Thom and made his way back across the hall to the door connecting the other side.

A flare of light grew at the end of the hall then. Outsider barreled back into the cell he had cut into and laid beneath the cot. Voices echoed from the same direction as the glow and a moment later, half a dozen guards rounded the corner, each carrying a torch. Outsider remained completely motionless as they made their way to each cell and looked in on them.

"So why are we doin' this again?" a reedy voice asked and a thin man turned to the others. A few shrugged and paid him little heed while the others looking to the largest of the group.

"Because Blaine said so," the big man droned in a deep bass. "He said he would be here tonight to try and get the hobbit out."

"Okay, but why are we here? If that guy can do half the stuff I heard he can then we—"

"Because Blaine said so!" the somber man reiterated. He glowered at the thin man and shoved his way past him. "If yer too scared to fight, I'm sure he'll understand. Just go tell 'em yourself, one on one." If the dripping sarcasm wasn't enough, the thought of being in the same room as the bounty hunter alone was. The thin man swallowed loudly and began checking cells.

"So where is the hobbit?" another asked.

The big man turned to regard him and looked about ready to strike. "None of yer damn business. Shut up and do your job 'fore I crack open yer skull and feed ya' to the prisoners."

Outsider marked the big man in his mind and took a deep breath. Stealthily he crawled from under the cot and strafed to the nearest man. He could smell the alcohol on him. Then with two sure movements, gripped the man around the mouth with one hand and slipped a knife through his spinal cord with the other. The feel of the vertebrae giving was all he needed.

He flipped the man out of the way and rushed the next before the first hit the ground, slashing his throat out. At the sound of their fall, the others turned about and found only darkness. In fact, they couldn't see anything; not even their torches.

Outsider leapt into the cloud of Inksmoke he had dropped and listened intently to their cries of alarm and frustration. He honed in on their location by such with both knives drawn and dispatched the lot of them before the dark dissipated. The big man lay on his side, breathing heavily, and gripped the side of his stomach to staunch the bleeding.

"Where is Thom?" Outsider demanded through grit teeth. He gripped the man's collar and shook him. "Which cell?"

The man tried to laugh but instead squeezed his eyes shut in pain. "Cell don't matter."

Outsider studied the man's face. "What're you talking about?"

The man smiled as blood pooled in his mouth and beneath him. He met Outsider's eyes for just a moment, shaking and fading fast, and spat blood between them. The big man exhaled deeply and seemed to shrink in size as his head lolled to the side limply.

Outsider dropped him and took off at once for the other door.

***

The sound of a gate closing reverberated quietly near his cell. Thom froze as panic began to well up inside of him. He couldn't breathe! All the air in his lungs seemed to have frozen and grown to an immense weight until he could hardly move. He fell heavily onto his cot and laid there utterly defeated.

"I told you I'd come for you first." a voice whispered from the hall. Thom turned his head and nearly leapt from his skin as he beheld a familiar cloaked figure.

***

A series of lights flared to life suddenly as he threw open the door. One by one they shot into existence with intensity unnatural. Outsider shied away from them and turned his head to the side of his hood. He backed away and held his hands up to shield his eyes while scanning the group before him within the second hallway.

"I knew you wouldn't miss this." a sneering voice cooed. A dark figure swept forward to take the head of the crowd. "Somehow I just couldn't see you dying in such a pitiful thing as that old tavern. So I came here to wait and wouldn't you know it, here you are!"

"Then face me, coward, one on one to decide who is the better." Outsider challenged and tried to find some kind of advantage within the room. He couldn't tell how many guards were with him but knew from their number of magically enhanced torches there were at least a score. Stalling, he scanned the dingy hallway.

"Now why would I want to do that?" Blaine asked himself and stroked his chin. "You see, I've already won. I am the smarter hunter and have caught you right in the middle of my little trap." He held his arms out to emphasize the men around him. "My army is here, where is yours?"

Outsider flicked his knives into his hands and stood stock still. "Why they're right here."
Chapter Twenty Nine: Comfortably Numb

Breathing controlled and movements chained together, Outsider weaved through the attacking force with such fluid grace several guards froze mid-stride; allowing him to sneak in quick strikes that dropped them flat. Recovering quickly the others moved to block him in and held their weapons up in a wall of points. Outsider dropped to his knees and slid the last several feet and between two of them, his knives slashing their hamstrings on his way past.

He rolled to his feet and narrowly avoided their retaliatory strikes that tore at his cloak. Spinning on his heel he turned a complete circuit and leaped sideways over a low arcing blade and caught the man's arm, bent it toward himself until the sword fell, then used the man as a shield when crossbows were fired. Several bolts pierced the man's chest and he went limp in Outsider's arms.

The elf tossed him into those closest then parried away the one he missed with his human missile until he managed to disarm him. He took advantage of the pause to dodge his way over to the crossbow wielding guards and struck down one down before they could reload. A bolt bounced off his greave with a scrape and narrowly avoided wounding him as he found his way back to the main group to use them as cover against their crossbow fire.

"Surround him quickly!" their captain ordered and waved his sword about. "Don't give him any room to breathe!" Following his command desperately the guards bustled about to close the elf in against the back wall. Outsider pushed back and was promptly thrown backwards off his feet.

He rolled away from them then stumbled through the open cell door as nothing appeared behind him to break his momentum. Expecting them to lock him inside, Outsider pulled the door inside the cell on the opposite side of the hinge and stood before the door.

The captain looked from one of his men to the other. "Well? Go on in after him!" Two guards glanced at one another nervously then waned as they were pushed forward. "Well go on!"

They came at the door and struggled against one another to push the other in first as there was only room for one to fit through at a time. Before long the captain kicked one through who was thrown back out with his throat slit. Then the other followed suit, causing the group to back away.

"I swear, if this city didn't have so many other forces protecting it, it would have already destroyed itself." Blaine chided and shoved his way through. "If he refuses to come out of there and you can't survive against him one on one, then use your crossbows and shoot him!" he screamed suddenly.

Realizing his reprieve was at its end; Outsider dusted the frontline of guards in his powder concoction and charged forward at full sprint. They struck out at him just as he slipped to the side causing their blades to strike one another and ignite the explosive. The men, alarmed that flames were crawling across their skin, panicked and thrashed about until their line fell apart. The hunter leapt onto his back and slid across a doubled over man into the center of the crowd.

He lashed out with his full fury focused through control. Both knives sang out a deadly song as they sliced between plates of armor and found the soft flesh beneath. The scraping ring of metal on metal steadily rose as the guards began to catch up to what had transpired and struggled to turn around and face the attacker.

Then as soon as they did, he threw his last pouch of Inksmoke; depleting his current repertoire. Outsider dropped to the ground and wrapped himself in his cloak as the men began to strike out with abandon within the impenetrable darkness. Fear peaked and panic fully settled in, the guards slashed away and felled one another.

The elf could feel the miniscule pressure of blood falling against his cloak then was buried by a dead body. He shoved it off and rolled head over heels until he emerged into the light, when a boot crashed into his face. Blasted off his feet, he fell flat on his back, gasping for air as the wind was knocked from him and his already broken nose burned like fire.

A heavy axe whistled toward him and thudded into the stone an inch from his face as he twisted out of the way. A spin of his feet had the man pressed away just long enough for him to jump up.

Outsider and the man stared each other down, both waiting for the first move. He glowered at the little elf before him and flexed his muscles in anticipation. Towering over him with an axe the size of his torso, he spun it around like a toy and grinned a toothless smile. "You hear that?" he asked and only the screams and sound of steel striking steel echoed in the hall. "That's the sound of death, and it's coming for you next."

"Then I'll be sure to listen for it." Outsider replied and ducked the heavy strike he knew was coming. "But I've never been good at listening." Then with two thumps, flicked both knives into the man's chest; hilt deep. The sheer strength of the man however kept him on his feet. He stared blankly ahead for a second in surprise, then smiled viciously and threw his axe at the little attacker before him. Outsider managed to dodge out of the way but hit the wall, sending flashes of colors before his eyes. The man gripped him by the throat and heaved him off his feet, choking the life out of him.

Lightheadedness began to sink into his limbs like lead and his strength ebbed away. He hit at the man futilely with arms so heavy he felt he could hardly lift them. The heaping man laughed and shook the elf. "Silly little elf, you can't kill me!" Lungs burning for air and semi-conscious, Outsider knew he was about to die but couldn't muster the energy to care.

With his last seconds of consciousness ticking by, his eyes roamed the hall and he saw Blaine, dragging away a small figure, a small figure that kicked and fought but to no avail, a small figure that called out for him.

Thom?

"Outsider, kill him!" the hobbit screamed then crumpled to the floor as Blaine struck him over the head. His face went blank as he was dragged away by his shirt, and Outsider could see the bloody rings around his wrists where his manacles had been.

"Good work Mateo, now finish him." Blaine mentioned as if bored. "I'll be entertaining myself with this one's demise."

Thom.

With his final ounce of resolve, Outsider gripped Mateo's hands around his throat and curled his legs up to his chest. He struck out with both feet and kicked the man in the face, shattering his nose and busting both lips. Mateo cried out in a snarling growl and dropped him, then howled even louder as Outsider caught the two knives imbedded in the man's chest as he fell and pulled them straight down with him.

He rolled to his feet as the large man collapsed and turned to find the remaining guards standing several feet away from him, eyeing him warily; half a dozen lying on the ground. He stared back and held his two knives at the ready, despite the shaking in his muscles and inability to stand up straight.

"You can kill me now, but I'll take plenty of you with me." he promised and wiped blood from his busted lip on his sleeve.

"Just..just get out of here!" a young soldier hollered as he supported the captain's head in his arms. He cradled his dying brother as his lifeblood poured out from the several wounds he sustained in the dark while the other guards checked the fallen for survivors. "No amount of coin is worth this. Just leave!" the sergeant cried and tears seeped from his bloodshot eyes.

Outsider turned away immediately and took off down the hall. He spun around the corner and barreled through the last door without slowing. A flight of stairs rose before him, all the lanterns leading the way extinguished. Outsider closed his gray eyes and when he opened them they were glowing with darkvision; the black fading to a dim blue and giving him perfect sight. He made his way up the stairs and emerged on the roof through an open trapdoor.

The chill night breeze felt good against his face and ruffled his hair. The stinging cuts along his nose and chin settled slightly in the wind and he breathed in deeply. The smell of blood clung to his clothing and filled his nostrils until he could taste it. He spat and wiped his mouth on his sleeve when he heard it.

He spun on his heel just in time for a dirk to pass through his cloak with a loud rip. He dropped to a crouch and looked at his tattered and torn cape, then to the dirk lying a few feet away.

"Somehow I just knew, yet again mind you, that you would survive." Blaine smiled and nodded knowingly. He stood straight with his arms folded behind his back. His deep purple cowl fluttered in the breeze like bat wings along his length. "So the culmination of all your hard work and my intensive planning arrives upon us at last!"

Outsider watched impassively as Blaine glared at him vehemently. "So what will you do, Outsider? Will you kill me and be free from the past you so scorn? Fully turning your back upon everything you are and will ever be? Or will you fall and succumb to the superior ways of those you could have been?"

"Tell me Blaine," Outsider took a single step forward. "How can you hate me so? Have you really devoted the last five or so years since my escape just to track me down? Are you truly that empty?"

Blaine bridled at the comment and sneered. "I have devoted the last few years of my life to pursuing my greatest enemy, my brother's murderer, and the taker of my hand, to prove I am the last great warrior to escape Duskenbaijan."

Outsider cocked an eyebrow. "Escape?"

Blaine scowled further then until his face was so masked in scorn he was nearly unrecognizable; resembling something demonic more than a dark elf. "I escaped death in the Shadowverse as surely as you, all because your parents were too foolish to accept their place and had to leave; hence the life you had killing your kin."

It was Outsider's turn to lose patience then. "You know I had no choice! You know full well they forced me to fight no matter how much I tried to escape it. And Blaide volunteered for the arena for a chance to—"

"How dare you speak my brother's name you filth? He was a champion! The best fighter in all of Duskenbaijan and everyone knew it until you cheated your way to victory."

"Cheated?" Outsider asked honestly surprised. "What are you talking about?"

Blaine's face contorted in rage and his eyes bulged furiously. "You know full well what I'm talking about! You took my hand just to distract him then stabbed him in the back. Even in Duskenbaijan where chaos and deceit reign, that was a pathetic and cowardly move."

"I took your hand because I had the opening. You honestly believe I had the time to plan ahead for such a thing? We were children! He volunteered to gain your clan favor and you followed suit with your blind devotion. What was I supposed to do with the two of you against me?"

"You were supposed to die!" Blaine screamed and rushed forward with his dirks drawn. Outsider met him head on with both knives and deflected the blows before sending a kick to Blaine's abdomen that sent him reeling.

"Just give up Blaine, you know you can't win."

Blaine laughed and tapped the side of his nose. "Oh but I can and will. Aside from the fact that you're exhausted and I'm fully rested, I always have a backup plan; an unbeatable combination."

Outsider swung his cloak off to the side and rolled his shoulders. "Then let's test that theory."

Four blades clashed in a shower of sparks, singing a deadly symphony of push and pull as they shared control of the battle. They rushed back and forth amid the metallic ringing and matched each other blow for blow; the extra length of a dirk paralleling the speed of a knife.

From Thom's perch at the corner of the roof where he was bound, the sounds woke him and he watched the two in awe as he struggled to keep up with their blindingly fast movements. One second Blaine was pressing forward with furious stabs that kept Outsider off balance, the next the tide would change and Blaine would be on the retreat from Outsider's sudden slashes. He dreamed of one day being able to move like that.

Blaine could feel the match beginning to slide opposite his favor when his defense became his only action. Blocking and parrying determinedly, fear beginning to settle in, he decided to shake it up and leapt back. With a new distance, Outsider's next swing missed and he carried himself forward into a roll to keep his momentum and sprung up from it to a leap.

He slashed at Blaine's neck and felt a bite before the attack was deflected; sending his knife plummeting off the roof. Blaine recoiled and slapped his hand over his neck then checked his palm, a small line of blood running down his collar which then split; dropping his cloak to the ground.

Blaine snarled and reached into his pocket. "Plan B it is." He removed a small black vial and shook it by his ear. With a menacing laugh he poured an oil-like substance onto his dirks that clung to the blades with alarming viscosity that didn't drip a single drop. Outsider didn't like the way the liquid shone with a deep crimson at one angle and emerald green at another.

"You like it?" Blaine asked happily as he noted the concern in his foe's eyes. "I had it made by a team of alchemists specifically for you."

"Aww, for me? You shouldn't have." Outsider teased and gave him a little smirk. "I'm so flattered I just might blush."

"Oh you won't be blushing for long." Blaine grinned and smelled the blades. "Smells like cyanide. You know, kind of like almonds...I wonder if you would be so kind as to tell me how they taste?"

Outsider spun his remaining knife with his fingers and positioned himself to leap aside if necessary. "Only if you ask nicely."

A pitch black cloud of Inksmoke so thick even dark elves couldn't see through it descended over Outsider. "Please?" Blaine called and charged into it. Thom could only listen in suspense as the sounds of blades ringing with shrill metallic tones hummed in the night. Sparks flew from the dark here and there and occasionally he could see an arm or leg as they battled back and forth.

Outsider controlled his breathing and slowed his heartrate as long as he could, but steadily his limbs refused to listen as exhaustion set in. His lungs shuddered and his heart pounded in his ears. The louder it boomed, the less he could hear of Blaine's movements. Then his broken nose began to bleed as his pulse rose to a fever pitch and made his eyes water.

He willed his arms to move. Striking high, low, left and right; wherever he sensed it was necessary. He ducked a slash and pivoted on his heel to the left then struck out low. Nothing but air tugged at his blade so he quickstepped around and unleashed a sudden flurry to block the retaliation he knew was coming.

He wiped the blood from his nose on his sleeve and caught a kick to the stomach then stumbled backwards. He fell flat as he heard Blaine's approach and rolled to his feet with his defenses set. But his arms were lead and his blade stone. He grit his teeth and forced them higher just in time to block a blow.

However the force was too much for his weakened limbs and he fell backwards. Knowing time was running out and that he had to end things soon, he slipped out of the smoke and stood a few feet back.

Blaine called from within the darkness. "What's wrong Outsider? Too scared to face me head on now?" Blaine craned his head to the side and strained to hear his voice.

"Oh no, not me Blaine. I just want to see your face when you lose again. And I won't spare you this time." he replied. A dirk flew high into the air through the top of the cloud. "You starting to lose your touch?"

"Not at all. Just a new trick I learned while trying to hunt you down through the Shadowverse." Blaine replied and laughed.

A second poisoned dirk hurtled straight at Outsider from the Inksmoke and was sent wide by a parry just in time for the first to descend from its parabolic arc and strike him in the shoulder near his collar bone. Outsider shuddered against the blow and cringed in pain at the tug he felt as it dug in deep and hit bone.

His fingers went numb a second later and dropped the knife with a clatter he didn't hear before collapsing to his knees. Blood dribbled down his chest, warm and sticky, then dripped to the stone. The wound stung like fire but his arms were dead and hung limp at his sides. Thoughts raced through his head like a colony of ants in his skull then slowed to a snail's crawl. Outsider licked his lips and tried to spit the cotton that welled up in his mouth but just couldn't get it out.

His glazed eyes turned toward Thom apologetically.

Thom stared in horror as he watched Outsider's head loll to the side then the other as if trying to roll his head around. Blaine emerged then and cracked into maniacal laughter immediately, bringing the thought of someone in pain to mind. He strode over to his most hated rival and threw back Outsider's hair.

Thom's eyes welled with tears as he saw the blank stare upon his face.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Blaine crooned. "You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment. And I must tell you: it..is..sweet." He stroked the scar that spanned across Outsider's face with his finger. "I remember giving you this." He chuckled and pushed his head away before taking Outsider's knife. "Maybe I'll give you another one; a matching set, just before you die.

"Theoretically that is, because I'm not going to kill you just yet." He leaned down close and stared into Outsider's unfocussed gray eyes. "You see, that poison I had made for you is specifically formulated to take away everything that makes you who you are." He stood straight then and began counting off on his fingers: "Your focus, your voice, your senses...your mind. Of course it was only tested on humans, but I imagine it's close enough."

Thom gasped then covered his mouth when Blaine rounded on him. "Oh yes, I'd forgotten you were here. Perhaps you'd like a taste? It would be interesting to see how it affects hobbits." he threatened and looked around for his other dirk. "Now where did that thing go? Oh well, I can always just.." With a twist he jerked the blade free from Outsider's shoulder and for several moments couldn't tear his eyes away from the crimson stain upon the blade.

He stalked over to Thom exaggeratedly and relished the terror blatant on the hobbit's face. "There's still some of my concoction on the lower half of the blade, so I'll just have to dig it in deep." He lifted Thom's face up to the blade until he could see himself in it. "You probably won't have much time to feel its effects on account of the depth, but it's all the same in the end."

The blade loomed above Thom when Blaine's hand fell to the ground twitching and pulsing blood. The dark elf cried out in agony and stumbled onto his back, clutching the scarlet stump with his other hand. With wild eyes he raked the roof until he turned around and saw Outsider standing there behind him, Darkbane drawn and dripping; blade glowing like white fire.

The shock on his face stretched it thin. "How are you..?" He started then shook his head miserably. "Something somewhere high has its eye on you...won't let you die."

"Oh I think your poison worked to a degree." Outsider observed as he felt the wound near his neck. "I can't feel a damn thing." He shivered again and held his arms out to steady himself, swaying dizzily.

Blaine's black eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. Tears ran down the creases of his face and he cursed everything he could name, even himself. He pounded the floor with his hand and stump, splattering blood all over himself until he lacked the strength. "To Hell with you Outsider! When you killed my siblings and took my hand we lost favor and respect. The gods turned on our brood and demanded a sacrifice, so they took my mother and cut out her heart right in front of me." he spat. "Of course I didn't love her, I can admit, or my brother and sister. But it signified the fall we were all doomed to face.

"My home fell the day after you left. I only survived by fleeing into the Shadowverse...to chase you down and avenge them to regain favor. I always knew I would and when I finally did I could return home and take my rightful place as a noble...but every time I get close, something keeps you alive." He spat dark blood and shook his head again feebly. "Tell me...who...do you pray to?"

Blaine's voice began to fade away and his body grew pale and limp. Outsider crouched beside him and shrugged. "I don't, I just acknowledge how much pain there is in the world and how much belongs to me; to take and to give."

Blaine stared at him a moment longer then scowled. "I will kill you.." With a last shudder and breath, Outsider's blade pressed into his chest, and his body shook then went still. Outsider turned from him and cut loose Thom from his bindings.

"Are you alright?" he asked genuinely worried as he looked at the several bruises and scrapes adorning Thom's round face.

"I'm fine, really. I just can't believe you came for me. You took on like a hundred soldiers!" he exaggerated and wiped away his tears. "Thank you, Outsider. I'm sorry I'll never be able to repay this."

Outsider smiled then paused to inspect his wound which still felt nonexistent. "Well we're not out of this yet...I really can't feel anything."

"What do you mean?" Thom asked and glanced back at the poisoned dirk lying across the roof. "Like, you can't feel the cut?"

"As in, I can't feel anything at all. No pain, not the cold, not the wind, not any of my clothes..nothing. If not for the muscle memory, I wouldn't even be able to walk, let alone fight." He stumbled then and fell to one knee with a groan. "I need to stop the bleeding before.." Outsider tumbled then and sprawled out on the roof with Thom standing over him trying to help; attempting to staunch the flow that soon grew to a crimson stain.

Thom stared down at his reflection in the pool of blood before him; a combination from Outsider and Blaine mixed as they both fell from their battle. Blood spilled in the give and take of war the only bridge between the two dark elf bounty hunters who had completely opposite views of the their kind, the world, and how they fit into it. In it, Thom could see the desperate hopelessness etched on his face and knew deep down there was nothing he could do to save his friend.
Chapter Thirty: Memories

Outsider opened his eyes and stared at the glassy ceiling above him for several minutes. Arms folded behind his head and legs crossed comfortably, he waited in his cot beneath the house and cracked a rare smile; his dreams still dancing through his head. His focus wandered away to thoughts of what the day would hold for him and the smile faded.

As such he didn't hear Dren enter his room who promptly struck him across the face for not jumping to attention.

"What're you daydreaming again?" the drunkard wheezed and pulled Outsider from his bed roughly. "Get yerself up you pathetic excuse for a fighter; we've got work to do."

Outsider stood up cautiously and looked about the room, wishing he had hid somewhere among the many mounds of luggage and old furniture within the basement he called his bedroom. He somberly followed Dren upstairs to the antechamber.

The smell of fresh food and warmer air filled his nostrils as soon as they ascended. The high ceiling supported by the various pillars crafted from black, glossy adamantine loomed over them too high to be seen in detail. The lower half of the room was lit by poison-green flames levitating against the walls and cast an ominous, deathly glow across the stone floor and onyx statues of famous dark elf barons and baronesses.

Outsider ignored the pangs of hunger in his stomach and tried not to think about how many days it had been since he had last "earned" his supper. Instead, he decided to actually pay attention to the words spilling from Dren's forked tongue.

"..too many damn skyrns to cut through for them so you're going to weed 'em out yourself. Got it?" he asked and waited impatiently for a response. Outsider stared at him darkly and nodded. "Good, so get all your stuff out of the armory." he said with a dismissive wave and left to get something to eat.

Outsider dragged his feet the entire way down the side hall and up the winding staircase to the second level of the house. The smell of incense burned his nose as he made his way past the chapel doors with his head down and eyes low; not daring to risk angering one of the priests or priestesses by looking at them. The women brushed past as if he wasn't there and went about their duties lighting the ceremonial candles that lined the chapel's area while chanting their dark prayers.

Past all of them and away from the bitter odor of incense stood the armory; its tall metallic doors engraved with protective runes that allowed only a house member inside. He placed the flat of his hand against it and with a shudder, they parted and swung open.

Outsider's eyes glinted maliciously as he beheld the chamber fully laden with armor and stocked with weapons of all sorts of styles, shapes, and sizes. Of all the evil that had been forced upon him and his hand, he could not deny the call of battle that keened so clearly in his heart and mind, nor the thrill that coursed through his veins every time a blade screamed in his hand.

He strode across the familiar wooden floor and past the rows of weaponry to the small supplies closet in the far corner. Among the crates of sharpening stones and polishing cloths was a wooden barrel placed behind them; the lid of it wedged tightly. He popped it off with his nimble fingers and placed it aside as he drew his weapons from within.

A matching set of obsidian daggers, each with a foot long blade as dark as night and koa wood handles worn down over the years to fit his palms perfectly. He spun them experimentally to inspect any sabotage of his belongings then sheathed them along his wrists despite the warning not to do so Dren gave him every day. Replacing the barrel lid, he left the closet and closed the small door.

"Well look who we have here," a voice he dreaded announced grandly. "A filthy little outsider sticking his nose around where he doesn't belong."

"You're right, Blaine, I thought I smelled a half-blood rat." a second voice added with a sneer. His face turned malevolent then and a strange light came to his eye. "I don't like rats."

"Nor I, Krew, they're disgusting." Blaine laughed and together they stepped toward him. "What about you Saleane? Do you care for rats?" He turned his head to the side as the girl approached from behind to stand beside him.

She gave a shrug and cocked her head to the side to size up the boy across from her, her brother, and his friend. "I could take or leave him."

Blaine grimaced and scowled at his little sister. "What? How could you ever take a rat?"

She shrugged a second time and laughed. "I didn't say where I would take him." She stared into Outsider's eyes as she said it then turned to her brother. "Perhaps I would simply take him to the chapel.."

Blaine and Krew shared a devious smile as they imagined the terrible tortures he would befall should he ever step foot within the chapel where only nobles and priests were welcome. Appeased, the two boys stepped closer to Outsider and cracked their knuckles threateningly.

"Don't you know this armory is for seventeen year olds and up?"

"Saleane's not seventeen though, Blaine." Krew murmured.

"But she's a noble."

"Oh, right. But this one...I don't see any rat poison around." Krew observed and grit his teeth angrily.

"But we've caught one and can't just let it escape." Blaine added and crossed his arms. "So I think we should just smash it." The two boys grinned viciously and started forward. Before they took a single step Outsider swung his wrists up and launched the two blades into his hands. He eyed them coldly and waited for either of them to make a move then switched his attention over to Saleane; her eyes melting into his with fear.

He flicked the daggers into the floor with dual thunks then stepped over them, closing the distance between him and the other two. He matched the intensity of their combined stare but kept his eyes straight forward; not focusing on the slightly smaller Blaine or larger Krew so he wouldn't be distracted by one of them and attacked by the other.

The boys shared a quick glance then came forward at the same time with sucker punches they expected to collide with his face and stomach to incapacitate him so they could pummel him to the floor utterly disgraced and defeated.

However neither felt the impact they were anticipating.

Instead Krew felt his head knocked back as a palm struck him in the chin so hard he bit through his tongue, and Blaine felt a sharp pain course through his middle as a boot hit him in the fork of his legs. They opened their eyes, having shut them during the punch as those with experience instruct not to, and stumbled as nausea rose in the back of Blaine's throat and a disorienting spin crossed Krew's eyes.

They shared another glance then and shook it off. They stepped on both sides of Outsider and grabbed at him, accepting the blows to their face and middle. With a bloody nose and busted lip, Krew held Outsider's arms while Blaine, with a black eye swollen shut and chipped tooth worked him over.

The aching pain shot through his stomach with every strike, jarring his ribs and abdomen. He could feel the bruises welling up on his cheek and lip as his face became the next target. He twisted his head to the side, avoiding a punch, and bit on his arm hard. Blaine recoiled with a shriek and gripped his forearm, turning away from them. Outsider headbutted Krew behind him, crunching the bigger boy's nose, then gripped him by the hair and slammed his face against his knee.

Outsider turned on his heel and ducked a wild swing, then spat Blaine's own blood in his face. Blinded, Blaine took a two-step kick on the chin and hit the ground unconscious with a groan. Krew stumbled past him and left his friend, holding his face with both hands as blood dribbled down from his crooked nose. Outsider turned to Saleane then and eyed her warily.

Her face, with flawless dark skin and pronounced cheek bones, bright navy eyes beholding a light of humor within, and angular pixie-like features, closed with his slowly. Her lips pressed to his swollen eye then chin, followed by his cut cheek, and finally rested beside his lips with the slightest pressure as if waiting for permission. Outsider shook his head and spat blood, then held her close until the world disappeared around them.

A voice called out to him from miles away; dull and muted.

The single light hovering in the empty sky that sheltered Duskenbaijan in its entirety, a glowing crystal now named Nethersol, the Bright Mystery or Light Secret, was now pitch black and signified the time for the various broods to return to their own and take up praise and worship the Nine of Night.

It was also the anointed time for Outsider to slip away unnoticed and perform his next task for "those above him". Climbing up one of the slick pillars that lined the antechamber, he perched near the ceiling where it was darkest and waited several long minutes with straining arms that trembled as he hung on until at last he heard the booming echo of the chapel doors slamming shut. Hesitating just an extra minute to ensure those not allowed in the chapel would be at practice battling, smithing, crafting; those below priestesses and nobles own form of worship, in their respective dorms.

He slid down and rubbed his hands together to shake away the ache in his fingers. A shadow passed a nearby torch and a dirge guard soon made his way around the corner. He glanced about uninterested and scratched at the thick scruff atop his head with two thick fingers resembling elongated potatoes. Its tall, heavy body walked away with loud footfalls that shook its leathery flesh and the floor.

They look like trolls only uglier; he thought as it adjusted the loincloth it had been given.

From his hiding spot Outsider watched the dimwitted dirge stroll through the room with a low humming in its chest then to the front court to patrol the perimeter while the dark elves were in prayer or practice. It was rare for a brood to be attacked during this time as all were commanded to obey the tenants, however there were those below recognition such as himself, who were thought of as too lowly for any chance of receiving favor and therefore free to do as they pleased during times of prayer.

At least that's how Outsider viewed it.

He would pity those doomed to whittle away the two hours required each day in worship if not for the miserable life they had thrust upon him. Blaine, his rival and enemy, was the youngest son of the Baron who ruled his house and therefore a noble, as was Saleane as the youngest daughter. Outsider smiled as he imagined the immense boredom Blaine must endure within the chapel surrounded by the upper class; set to fetch incense and other menial tasks.

But he quickly sobered as his thoughts turned to Saleane. They had been something of an item for over two years now, but only in secret; for as a noble female, she would be afforded the highest of responsibility in time and would be required to take on much more training and devotion to become a priestess. He knew, in a few centuries or so, that she would probably become a Matriarch; the leader of the priestesses. The sheer thought of it turned his stomach.

He shook such unpleasant tidings away and instead focused on his task at hand. Yet they remained. With the entire social structure of the dark elves dependent upon their relation to the Nine, priests and priestesses were of the highest regard; only the Barons and Baronesses their equal. For all worshipped them and heeded their every desire, even the most insane laws. Sacrifices, blood rituals, and black sacraments were common practices here and religious zealots were found dead every week.

Outsider was sure the Nine planned it to be this way. For they gave their most revered gift to only a single living person at a time: their true names. This devout follower is considered a prophet by most, and a target to some. Inter-clergy assassinations became typical as jealous followers needed the one living person who knew gone in the hopes they would be the next. With such backstabbing, often literally, going on, the Barons and Baronesses had to intervene; hence the decision to house priests and priestesses in small numbers within their clans.

This kept them relatively safe but also led to greater scale conflicts when murder simply could not be withheld. The victor clan often absorbed the remains of the loser and gained their power through triumph as well as a higher number of clergy to raise their odds of receiving the next prophet.

It was all just a sick game.

He found himself already at the gate of the courtyard with the titanic gothic structure of his house behind him. So inseparably fettered to it was he, he could picture every detail of it. The many levels of the building conjoined at sharp angles to resemble a gem that narrowed near the top to an oval shape, with four crooked and twisted towers protruding from it on each side in two parallel lines.

Outsider shivered and slipped over the gate while the dirges conversed in their guttural language, completely oblivious to the boy. Landing into a low crouch, he scanned the streets quickly then shot forward to the far left of the city where the fewest structures remained. Many years ago this had been the site of a prominent young sorcerer that had been invaded and destroyed before he could gain too much power.

Now, only rubble and detritus remained. He stole from shadow to shadow among the many piles of rock then to a large mound of stone where he laid low a minute to break up his pace in case he was being followed. Content he was alone, he circumvented more popular zones like the market and made his way past the dark stone structures that built up the center of Duskenbaijan; surrounding the colossal statue of Shogul; god of darkness, carved from emerald. He watched the city for a short while, studying the high sweeping walls and black stone that made up the basis of dark elf architecture here. Even the buildings themselves were twisted and misshapen as if their perverted and evil ways had tainted their pitiful excuse of a home.

He passed the warped walls without a second thought and slipped away from anything resembling civilization until he had crossed the border to the wild Shadowverse. He breathed in more deeply then and nodded.

As much as he hated it down here and wished to escape, he couldn't refute the feeling of comfort the wild imbued in him. He liked to think it was his mother's blood in him. Here, where things were natural and the way they were supposed to be, he couldn't blame those that were twisted and violent. Mordose, dog-like reptiles, and Gurl, amphibious birds, were killers by design and knew no other way nor did they have the capacity to be taught any.

However those he had just left behind, the "people" who were "civilized" were more wild and animalistic than anything he would encounter out here. They bred hate and war together to ingrain into their society and based their entire infrastructure around raising children as soldiers who then kill one another for the gain of power simply because their gods demand it. At least the creatures in the wild killed to sustain themselves and protect what is theirs.

But those who had captured him and his parents; who kill for selfish gain and pleasure, they are the true monsters. He stared into the darkness as these emotions overpowered his thoughts and waited for the cloud to pass.

"Not now." he told himself and pulled up his customary hood. His cloak stained then into a series of blacks and grays that melded with the background and rendered Outsider nigh invisible. He flicked his eyes into darkvision and scanned the patch of shrubbery before him for any signs of habitation.

The typically midnight caverns of the Shadowverse flared to life before him. Eyes glowing, he sifted through the varying shades of blue and purple that signaled heat or the lack thereof. Brushing a few low hanging branches out of the way and striding into the tunnel confidently he crouched low and raked the floor with his eyes.

Small heat prints along the cool stone floor shone faintly; hardly any warmer at all, with thin, clawed toes. He nodded as he recognized the tracks of a skyrn and knew he was going in the right direction. Typically difficult to track on account of being cold blooded, Outsider had some experience with them and had quickly learned a few tricks they used such as wetting their feet to make them colder and harder to detect through darkvision.

However, skyrns aren't very bright and never realized the stone around their now-wet feet would cool as well in the water, leaving the ratio of their temperature to the ground's nearly untouched. He swept through the tunnel easily, finding the best places to step, and came out the other end silently.

A whisper came from behind and he flashed his weapons immediately in a battle crouch. He looked side to side cautiously as he came face to face with nothing. He sighed quietly and went back to searching; stalking his way through the wild Shadowverse.

A voice called out to him again, slightly louder this time but still as if he were underwater.

Gradually it faded away and he found himself facing his target; a small, even by elven standards, dark elf that after exhausting his repertoire of spells firing into the shadows where he thought Outsider had been, now sniveled on the ground and covered his head in his arms. The bodies of numerous skyrns lay about him and several more could still be heard fleeing.

"Please, I beg of you, don't..don't kill me." he pleaded and gripped Outsider's leg. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone, I promise!" Outsider kicked him off and flipped him over on his belly, tying his hands behind his back, then heaved him to his feet.

"I'm not." he answered curtly. "You're going back."

The little dark elf's eyes widened and he dropped his head in defeat. Outsider tried to ignore the mirrored image of himself he saw in the escapee as he led him out of the caverns and back to the house. The mandatory prayer time was nearly over by the time he reached the outskirts of the city; his timeframe nearly missed, so he rushed back the way he had come with his prisoner in tow and arrived at the gate to his house just as the melancholy bass of the center chapel's funeral bell tolled in a mesmerizing cacophony of sound as it reverberated through the stone and bounced from wall to wall, creating disorienting echoes.

Dren emerged first from the house and hurried across the courtyard to open the gate. "I see you found him." he observed obnoxiously and looked down his nose at the latest target. "You got the books as well?" Outsider nodded and held up the sack in his free hand. Dren grinned greedily and approached the still-restrained prisoner. "Well, well, Siln, did you really think you could get away with our tomes? You must be the dumbest sorcerer I've ever met."

He motioned with his head back to the house. "Get him inside; we'll make an example of him there while most everyone is still about." They led him inside and upstairs to the second level's main chamber before the chapel doors. Dren shooed Outsider away then called out grandly to all that the thief had been caught with a triumphant smirk. "What shall we do with him, ladies?"

The priestesses eyed him malevolently for the term 'ladies' then shoved him aside to converge on Siln. They murmured among themselves for a short time then all went silent as the Baron appeared.

"What have we here?" His cackling voice called and he strode forward with an air or supremacy that choked Outsider. He held his chin high so that his tunic's high collar rose to the back of his head and afforded a regal straightness. "Is that you Siln?"

The frail wizard nearly buckled beneath his glare. The women parted before the baron as he closed in on the trapped male then quickly supported him on either side. Dren hesitantly made his way back to the group with a deep bow and flourish.

"Baron Scorn, it is good to see you up and about once more. Feeling better I presume?" The Baron nodded and watched the old Martialmaster idly; slightly humored. "Excellent, most excellent," Dren continued. "Then I hope the capture of this thief is fitting as a welcome back gift."

Scorn mulled over the thought of laughing in his face and having him whipped just to teach him the finer points of respect. However the fearful shake that racked the little sorcerer's thin frame was too tempting to pass up. "It shall suffice." he answered and snapped his fingers.

Instantly two heavily armored guards gripped Siln by each arm and awaited his command. Scorn stood with his back turned to the room dramatically and announced his verdict: "It's been a whole two days since our last sacrifice to the Nine." He paused for effect then murmured: "Give him the grub treatment."

Strapped to a table a moment later, Siln struggled against his bonds and cried out in fear until his mouth was gagged. His frantic eyes circled the room, at last resting on Outsider standing off to the side. They locked stares for what seemed like an hour until a priestess entered with a jar full of writhing worms, each an inch long, the pale yellow color resembling dead flesh.

"Here's to all those who think they can escape. We own you!" she proclaimed and held the first worm between her fingers. "For the glory of the Nine!"" Then she placed it against the flat of Siln's palm while another was placed opposite. The worms squirmed about then latched onto the skin of his hands and with a wiggle, tore their way into him. Two tiny lumps beneath his flesh inched up his arms slowly then vanished into his torso.

Siln screamed into his gag and thrashed about as more and more were placed on him until he had a dozen digging and eating their way through his body. The priestesses laughed maniacally and handed the jar of worms off to another. "By morning, his body will be hollow and the worms over a foot long each."

Outsider cringed and broke away from the scene, searching for the solace of his room beneath the house.

When he arrived, he sensed a presence and spun about just in time to be tackled to the floor where they landed in a roll. He grit his teeth and stared up at his attacker who held him pinned, then relaxed as Saleane stared back. They watched each other in silence, still on the floor in a pile, enjoying each other's presence.

At last she spoke quietly. "You went out again?"

He nodded.

"On a job?"

He nodded again.

"Why didn't you just leave? You hate it here."

Outsider's smile faded. "They would find me." He sat up with her still straddling him and rested his chin on her shoulder. The natural smell of her ebony skin and stark white hair brought him back into the wilds where the air was fresher; calming his racing heart.

She hummed a gentle melody that rose and fell in a sweeping stanza like the wind. He had always known it to be her song.

"That and I don't hate everything here."

She turned his face to hers until their foreheads were together. Her hot breath washed over his face. "Like what?" she teased and tickled his face with her long hair. He leaned in to kiss her when the sound of his door opening creaked loudly.

He wrapped her hands around his throat and banged his head against the floor. He grunted in pain, muttering curses as she turned to the door. Dren entered the room and froze as he saw his company. "What's this?" he asked deceptively calm for Saleane's, being a noble, sake.

She stood immediately and brushed her hair back into place. "I was just.." She looked down at Outsider who remained on the floor rubbing his head.

"She was showing me the error of my ways for not reveling in the despair of those I have captured." Outsider interjected. "I left during Siln's torture—I mean, sacrifice to the Nine."

Her eyes widened then relaxed and she turned back to Dren. "Yes, I was just teaching this one some manners." She turned to Outsider and struggled to keep her face calm. "When a priestess sacrifices a prisoner you've captured you should remain in attendance as appreciation!" And she gave him a small kick to the leg.

Dren laughed and made his way over. "Excellent, most excellent. Please do continue, though might I suggest you aim a little higher?" He gestured higher with his hand then kicked Outsider viciously in the chest. He scowled at the boy on the floor, missing the concerned look she threw him, and hit him again. "If you like I could take over for you?"

Saleane froze and stared at Outsider blankly before recovering. "Of course...thank you." she hardly whispered then turned her back to Dren and looked down at Outsider who lay there clutching his ribs and watching her sadly. He nodded her on and gave her a halfhearted smile. A tear slid down her cheek and dripped onto his palm as she mouthed 'I'm sorry'. He gripped it tightly and closed his eyes; retreating into himself as it began.
Chapter Thirty One: My Hell

A rush of voices.

He could hear them from miles away and strained his ears to pick them out, but found them all too muddled and fuzzy. He gave up then and the voices grew louder and louder until they transformed into a roaring crowd.

Rows and rows of dark elves sat around him on the bleachers, cheering and calling out bets. He caught one or two in his favor but for the most part looked to be the local favorite to lose. He searched the audience for a friendly face; the friendly face, but was unsuccessful by the time the commentator stepped outside.

The Arena as it was so affectionately referred to was actually the old battleschool's training ground; replaced by the new battleschool academy closer to the city which every upper class brood vied for entry. This one however remained near the border of the wild and was often visited only by those in need of some quick coin or looking for new fighters. As such, it was for the most part run down and falling apart with a plain wooden floor about twenty yards across in a circle; enclosed by a stone wall which formed the base of the seating.

With no roof present, many called it the bowl and used it as slang to make secret bets in public.

"Welcome to the Arena!" the commentator called grandly and full of enthusiasm. He smiled and nodded contentedly to himself as the crowd met him with equal anticipation. The excitement tangible, he continued. "We've got a great show for you tonight! A three-on-one fight with young up-and-comers facing someone they've surely feared their entire lives; our defending champion for over two decades running, and Martialmaster for Clan Graves, the professional murderer: Heller!"

A thick muscled dark elf stepped into the arena then, corded muscle flexing across his arms, chest, and back as he flourished his magnificent scimitar. The jeweled blade spun about effortlessly and so fast it whistled through the air before slapping it down into his other hand with the flat of the blade. Heller narrowed his eyes as Outsider and two other dark elves stepped into the arena. He paused and sized up the youngest boy across from him.

"How old is he, Tenn?" He asked the commentator skeptically.

"Fifteen, but he's half forest elf so he's a bit bigger than our average." Tenn replied seriously. "He doesn't look like much but I've witnessed his every round and he's quite good; uses his speed and cunning like an extra weapon. Very efficient." he added quietly so only they could hear.

Heller snorted and spat between him and the boy. "Go fetch the girls will you? This'll be quick."

Outsider breathed in and out very slowly and shallowly, monitoring his pulse, then gradually breathed in deeper and faster to raise it to where he wanted it. Not so fast he would risk exhaustion but not so slow as to risk becoming lightheaded when he burst into action. His thin fingers twitched in anticipation and his lip curled back slightly in a faint snarl.

He shook his head and cleared away the animalistic side of him he fought to control. I may be an animal, but they're monsters, he recited to himself and felt less guilty but decided to keep it under wraps lest his ways become well known to any he might face.

The other two talked over their plan then with a final nod took their places beside Outsider; though they made a point not to look at him.

"All combatants ready?" Tenn called and looked to Heller who gave the nod, then the others, and declared the match on without even glancing at Outsider.

Instantly the reigning champion began spinning his sword from one hand to the other in a constant whirring as he strafed in a circle opposite the three. A confident smirk cracked his face and revealed teeth carved into fangs. As they closed in he inspected the challengers more thoroughly, Outsider doing likewise.

They were similar in height, both taller than average and about that of a human, but there was no comparison in overall size. Heller was still within his second century; a young adult, and in peak shape with heavy muscling that would make a Warrior proud.

Outsider meanwhile was still in his youth even by human standards and had the wiry limbs to prove it, despite the constant physical conditioning he endured. He was strong for his age but had always relied on speed and cunning to take the brunt of his battles.

This will be no different.

The two dark elves split up and came at Heller on each side with their swords poised to strike. One went high and the other low to catch him regardless of positioning but found only air as the champion leapt parallel to the ground and flew between their blades.

He spun on his foot and struck out; severing one of their heads. It rolled to the ground followed by the body and its partner nearly screamed. He scowled and parried the scimitar a few moments then looked at Outsider.

"Help me!" he cried out in desperation.

Heller lunged forward in a quick stab suddenly, narrowly missing the dark elf's neck as he dodged to the side, then returned to strafing the circle. He spun the scimitar a few more times then side stepped toward him with another quick strike.

But Outsider had anticipated the attack by watching those thick muscles bunch together like a cobra preparing to strike and intercepted the slash with a stab to the abdomen.

The dagger easily bit through Heller's flesh as he wore neither armor nor shirt but didn't cut deep as he recoiled from the attack and kicked out, catching Outsider under the arm and propelling him away. The champion laughed and touched the incision on his right hip.

"First blood is yours; boy, but mine shall be the last." he sneered and licked the red from his fingers.

The dark elf charged Heller as he spoke and came in low just as Outsider leapt off his back to go high. The champion once more dodged the strikes with a jump but this time went vertical and kicked them both before hitting the ground.

Outsider's partner hit the ground and skidded on his elbows. He cursed and hurried to his hands and knees when he heard a thunk. He looked down and saw the end of a bloody scimitar stabbed into the ground beneath him. He looked over at his young partner's head then his arms gave out and he collapsed.

Heller roared in triumph as he ripped his scimitar free from the body and swung his gleaming blade about so that the young fighter's lifeblood sprayed the crowd. With a smug grin he turned back to the last opponent. "One left!" he cried dramatically.

Outsider waited for the next move and nearly tripped as a kick came instead of a strike; catching the flat of the blade to the side of his head as rolled away. Heller pressed the attack with rapid swings in an X pattern then a V and intertwined them to keep Outsider guessing. The young fighter backpedalled from the attacks and managed to avoid the series of strikes and leave a line of blood across Heller's back as he passed behind him.

The champion roared in outrage and spun around furiously with his scimitar leading the way. The blade came in hard and knocked Outsider off his feet when he blocked it. Using the advantage, Heller stabbed at him and nicked his chin and shoulder but was parried from any real damage.

Worried he would look foolish, Heller decided he'd had enough of this game and changed tactics. He held his scimitar with two hands then and let loose a complicated stanza of combos that deflected any retaliation with the sheer number of moves, and could be abandoned at any time to attack by simply elongating one of the many swings.

Outsider watched the latest move and scanned the set until he ran out of room to back away. Heller laughed with a vicious lunge from his combo and found only wall as Outsider saw the pattern break and ducked the blow; sidestepping behind the big man.

Heller turned and found nothing once more, finishing the circle. The crowd jeered at the champion and called out insults as the dumbfounded fighter circled about for his foe when he finally realized he was being shadowed. Outsider mimicked Heller's movements from behind, just close enough to remain out of sight but far enough back to avoid any surprise strikes.

Impatient and fast to anger, Heller sprinted forward then doubled back and continued the assault until Outsider managed to roll away and take his stance again. He pursued the boy and let loose with a fury of swings and strikes meant to keep the opponent off balance but found the boy to simply keep just out of range of the sword and avoid tiring himself.

Heller however now had sheen sweat covering his fit form and took heavy gasps of air between attacks. Outsider watched this and timed his deep breaths, keeping time with it to foretell strikes, and danced forward just after the scimitar reached out for him. He came in before the sword could and kicked Heller in the diaphragm just as he inhaled; winding him.

Then, using his forward momentum, pivoted on his heel and spun to the side; avoiding the off balance retaliation and rammed both daggers into Heller's sides from behind.

The champion's face contorted in agony as his kidneys burst open then went slack as he dropped to his knees. Blood coursed down his back and soaked his trousers with an audible trickling. He turned to regard the youth who had killed him without animosity and surprise only.

"Guess I got cocky...your turn kid." he mumbled as blood dribbled through his lips. "Your turn to become the most popular target in Hell." Then he winced in pain and grit his teeth with a scowl. "Finish me off quick, boy." he stuttered and fell forward with his hands supporting him shakily.

Outsider pulled his head back and with eye contact; a dark elf custom he had had bored into him, slit his throat.

Immediately the crowd erupted into an uproar; calls and bets filling the air as winnings were won and lost. Money passed from hand to hand and a few poison darts were fired at those who fled without paying. Tenn reported the events loudly and for all to hear, even what would come next for their new champion, but for Outsider it fell on deaf ears.

He strode from the battleground and through the now-unlocked door leading to the lower-end preparation room. He closed the door behind him and shut out the world. The voices grew distant and the roar of the crowd muted to an echo within the old room. Abandoned desks and tables lay desolate and covered in dust; forgotten.

Religiously and without conscious thought, Outsider laid out his daggers and wiped them clean of blood thoroughly, then pulled his leather padding and tunic over his head. He set them aside and opened the small vial lying nearby. In silence he inspected and cleansed his cuts with salve then stitched them shut impassively. His routine finished, he looked up at his handiwork in the mirror to ensure his sutures would hold.

You got lucky, he told himself. Only reason you won was Heller's complete underestimation of your skills and his own blind assurance he was undefeatable. He slammed his hands down on the desk and leaned heavily on them.

A figure appeared in the mirrored image behind him. "I saw your match."

Recognizing the voice, Outsider dropped his gaze from his reflection and stared down at the supplies before him; hands still on the table. The silence grew uncomfortable then and Saleane approached him.

"What's the matter?" She reached out for his shoulder and he shrugged her off. She held her hands together in front of her and stared at the many pale scars that lined and spiraled across his gray back like constellations in the night sky. Among them she saw the newly closed wound still seeping blood from the corner and sighed.

"I just came here to tell you I'm sorry." she whispered quietly. "I know it's not the first time I've had to pretend...but it will be the last."

He moved slightly but couldn't bring himself to turn and face her. Instead he looked up to the reflection of her before him.

"I can't treat you like that anymore." She breathed shakily and tears ran down her cheeks. "You hate it here and I know you would leave at the first chance, but that's not enough. They've been so terrible to you and so many others. This city is full of nothing but murderers, liars, and thieves."

Her words rang true with him but echoed with something else; something darker and unstable. The venom in her voice was something he had rarely heard from her; one of the many reasons she was the one dark elf he could trust and love.

"I'm to become a priestess, we've always known it. But I won't remain like the rest of them. I'll take this power they give me, just as you have with your training, and I'll use it against them.

"But from the inside."

His eyes grew wide as he watched her reflection turn away from him.

"They've made new plans for this arena and its champion, so you will be busy with your own life anyway." She paused and took a quivering breath. "You're strong, and such a good person...you deserve so much better. I'm sorry."

Then she disappeared through the door and vanished into the crowds.

The whole world seemed to shake and warp around him. The walls and floor and ceiling all fell away and he was left there floating in a white abyss, all alone. A rushing sound like water filled his ears until he thought his head would explode. He looked around for something.

Something to hold onto.

He could see everything he had ever known laid out before him. So much of it; nearly all of it; nothing he wanted to remember. A field of inky blackness with pain and evil rampant within it made up the vast majority of his short life. Just looking at it made him shiver and retreat further into himself.

But there was a light. A small fragment of white that shone not like a beacon so well was it hidden; but like a forgotten and lost treasure for him to find. Something he had felt he always had to earn.

Her song echoed in the empty plane around him; weaving in and out of his being.

He reached out into the darkness and it clung to his skin; his pure white skin! It filled him up; consumed him entirely. He cried out but was silenced as the darkness slid down his throat and gagged him. The darkness burned like fire inside him and scorched his organs, boiled his blood, and travelled through his fried veins until it reached his heart.

Thoroughly tainted, he was sure he would become a monster like the rest; could remember the evil he had already done but imagined himself relishing it from now on. The white world around him faded to gray.

Then he broke.

He fell from his levitation and hit the nondescript ground. He tried to pick himself up but instead found his limbs dead. Ahead of him sat a portrait nearly devoid of color now that the darkness was within him. Only a small pinprick of white paint was left upon the canvas; easy to see with all the black gone.

His heart ached for it! To chase away the darkness and pain that had so filled it and made it heavy; too heavy to move. He willed himself to crawl forward and attain it, to take it back as his own but couldn't.

Saleane appeared then in the canvas; her movements mesmerizing and fluid as if she was painted. She grew larger on the screen as she moved closer then picked up the light.

He could smell her perfume and taste her skin on his lips. She was so close. She held up the light before him upon her palm. He focused on it entirely and using all of his willpower; everything he ever had, fought the darkness within him just to move his arm forward and reach out for the light.

Straining and shaking, sweating beads nigh exhausted; he gave it his all and reached out fully for the light. His fingers were less than an inch from hers and he was about to touch it. Then she closed her fingers around the light, extinguishing its little flame, and melted away as the world flared black as night.

Within the darkness he could feel control of his body return to him but without the drive behind it. His heart gave out without its light and the blackness crept in until he was lost amid the churning sea of ink. If he had had the will to fight left, if he hadn't given everything he had trying to reach the light, he knew he would be able to resist. But as it was..

He moved easier then and took a deep, shaky breath to fill his lungs.

And hot blood splashed into his open mouth.

He shook his head and found Blaine before him; hand missing and spurting blood rapidly with each panicked pulse. The wounded dark elf stumbled backwards and wailed violently as he clamped down on his stump; tripping Blaide and gripping his shirt.

Outsider backed away and suddenly all the wounds he had accumulated were fresh and burning anew. The numerous cuts stung like match heads pressed to his flesh and small dark spots blotted his torn tunic. Even the blood in his mouth seemed to burn him as he spit it out.

Blaide crouched near his partner and screamed for him to calm down and let go of him; promising him he would finish the match in time to get him a healer, when Outsider's blades pressed into his back and burst out his chest.

Blaine stared in horror as Blaide's face contorted in anguish with eyes raving; searching his brother's face almost accusingly. His brother's blood splattered across his face and in his eye but disappeared against the blood already soaking him from his wrist. He looked past the crumpled form of his brother and to the one behind it with two daggers dripping.

There, he saw a pain in itself. A pain he didn't understand and hoped he never would. Not comprehending; he felt only rising anger and festering hate. As Outsider turned away and refused to kill him, Blaine leaped to his feet with his brother's sword and bore down on him.

Outsider didn't hear him approach over the sound of the audience and only turned when the cries turned from awestruck to malicious; with many cries of "kill him!" and "finish it!".

He saw Blaine's eyes, then a white hot pain split his skull and seared his face. He imagined a lightning bolt striking him through the head and frying his brain it was so intense. He recoiled immediately and stumbled back to the wall, clutching his face with one hand and a dagger in the other.

Blaine followed and reared back for a final strike when he saw the hard look in Outsider's open eye. The look that promised death. It was somewhere between calm and rage and a look he had never been able to replicate. He had seen it numerous times in his father's and brother's eyes but never against him.

Seeing it now, he thought better of his actions and dropped the sword before passing out from blood loss.

Outsider left them all behind once more and resumed his typical system: washing his blades clean before patching himself together, however this time took considerably longer. He watched his progress in the mirror as he poked the needle through the soft flesh of his forehead and pulled the string taut, then repeated twenty four times with extra caution on his nose until he reached his lower cheek on the opposite side.

He winced as he rubbed more salve across it to sanitize the wound and clamped his jaw shut to avoid screaming. His fingers gripped the table until indentions remained in the wood. Staring at the new scar across his face he knew it would become his signature feature and yet another way he would be forever marked for what he was.

He snuck out of the arena through the back and took his time returning to the house. He was in no rush to resume training and wanted nothing more than to ease the searing torture in his head. He spent the next several hours relaxing just outside the border of the city, lying on his back atop a dead tree where he had long ago hung a hammock.

He returned knowing he would face punishment for his delay, and possibly for defeating two nobles of his own clan, but couldn't bring himself to care. As far as he saw it, what else could they do to him? How could they top what had already befallen him whether by his actions or not?

But when he walked inside he found Dren waiting for him in his room; all smiles.

"That was a good match." he exclaimed and slapped him on the shoulder. "I thought for sure you were dead, but you played it smart and kept the less experienced Blaine in his older brother's way. Clever." Dren recounted and nodded his head knowingly. "So here's the deal. You proved yourself capable of besting the Martialmaster of our own house; so typically you would become his replacement.

"However you're you and that isn't going to happen. So instead, we've an open challenge next week in the arena to face you for the honor. As such, you're training needs to increase tenfold. I mean morning through night, constantly."

Outsider studied Dren's face for a moment, mulling over what he had heard and hadn't heard. "Why do you want me to win?" he asked at last and gauged the old drunk's reaction.

Being sober at the time, Dren was fully capable of masking his face as one of his station had long ago mastered. "Because I want the house to get only the best. With your victories against a champion and a Martialmaster, we're going to have a lot of eyes on us from now on. We need the extra muscle around here."

Outsider couldn't deny the logic. The house he lived in, for he refused to call it his house, was no small player in the city of Duskenbaijan and often found itself in the middle of power struggles involving political scandals and assassinations. He himself had been tasked with a few, though after a recent failure in which someone had seen him leaving after, he hadn't been sent any more.

"Are they going to try and move up a peg?" Outsider asked, curious to how the house's movements would affect him. "I know they don't use me for contracts anymore but if so, they might be made on my head now."

Dren nodded and laughed. "Still wish to be a somebody?"

"I'm just a weapon to them."

"Either way," the older dark elf waved away the remark and took a deep draught of a bottle in his hand. "You're not much of a secret anymore so I'll make sure you're informed just enough to get by." He moved in closer, suddenly serious, and the alcohol on his breath stung the wound on Outsider's face. "Don't think I trust you just for these killings you've done in the arena. If you had it your way, my head would be in my lap and you'd be prancing around on the surface where they hate you just a little less than we do."

He slapped Outsider across the face; splitting his sutures. "I haven't forgotten the promise you made me as a child when I had your heretic parents killed." He took another swig of the potent drink. "You vowed to do the same to me didn't you boy? Well it isn't going to happen kid; I've got my eye on you."

He strode from the room then and stumbled up the stairs outside his door noisily and muttering curses. Outsider sat heavily on his bed and clenched his knuckles several times until he was calm enough to sew up his face again.

As soon as he closed his eyes it seemed he was awake again.

Dren held to his word and pushed him even harder than before; rising with the dawn, metaphorically, and not returning to bed until long after the guard was out. The armory became his new common place and he spent many long hours there practicing with weapons he used less frequently such as the bow and sword. His weapons were in pristine condition at all times and his new set of blackened leather armor kept washed.

After half the week had passed, Outsider found himself so exhausted each night he had no time left to think; no long hours at night to mull over the things he missed and how badly he hated his life. As such, he found a renewed motivation to work and with new vigor set to his training each day harder than ever.

Such became his new day to day schedule: wake, train, collapse. By the time his match was upon him, he was more than ready to face whatever challenge presented itself. He was more accurate, faster, stronger, and deadlier than he had ever been; even taking time from sleeping each night to study techniques not taught to him.

He breezed through the first four rounds without incident and took only a minor hit in the last. He found himself detached from it all as if a spectator; watching his victories without feeling them. As such, he never heard the names of those he battled.

Being the current champion, he was introduced last anyway, often missing even the echo of a name from within his room, and entered the battleground to fend off the last opponent of the week.

A slim figure stood opposite him, wearing sleek armor in varying shades of black dependent on stance with a mask-like helm that covered the entire head and face; obscuring all facial features. All in all it appeared he was fighting a three-dimensional shadow.

But when it drew a pair of obsidian-bladed dirks he knew his opponent's identity immediately and honestly had expected it sooner. He strafed a circular shape opposite Blaine to create a pattern he would soon break once it stuck.

But Blaine seemed to have the same idea and quickstepped the opposite way into a dive then rolled to his feet striking out with both dirks in overlapping arcs. Outsider gave ground as he fended off the cunning strikes and had to admit he had improved greatly in the months since last they fought, as well as obviously having the wizards grow him a new hand.

Then with the initial shock past, Blaine's momentum was soon countered and Outsider pressed back. He deflected the first dirk with a twist of his wrist and knocked the second wide with his bracer, then stepping forward with his back facing him, kicked Blaine straight in the chest and blasted him off his feet.

Outsider left him to get to his feet and instead backed away a few paces to formulate a plan of action. He knew he could defeat Blaine in open combat, however he also knew how cunning and devious Blaine was; especially since his defeat and Blaide's death. He didn't want to risk getting a serious injury that would lay him out of commission and ruin his training regimen or permanently hinder him.

He had to be cautious when fighting the unstable.

As such he watched idly as Blaine took a knee then stood slowly, gauging Outsider's response. When he did nothing, Blaine continued forward and began a steady stream of spins and slices as he closed the gap.

When they finally connected, he spun on a single foot and leaped forward with a roundhouse kick that connected on Outsider's upper shoulder and drove him to one knee. Then to continue his movement the whole way through, he slashed out upon landing and hit the flat of a knife. The blow parried, Blaine was in too close to effectively use the longer-bladed dirks and quickly retreated as Outsider fought his way to his feet and drove him off.

His turn to press the attack, the current champion came forward with a steady gait; counting down the number of steps between them until his number was reached and he slid across the ground with a sweep that stole Blaine's legs from under him. Continuing his sweeping kick, Outsider used the sideways momentum to swing his legs up and windmilled on his back and shoulders then pressed off to his feet in the blink of an eye.

Once more he let Blaine take his feet without resistance. However he closed the distance this time and met him head on with full fury. His knives twisted a complicated dance within the zone of safety Blaine held his dirks in. Outsider bounced his blades off them and gradually wormed his way through his defense until the aperture between the dirks was wide enough to have kicked through; Blaine's hands drove at least shoulder width apart.

Taking full advantage of the fact, Outsider leaped up and kicked off Blaine's chest once more into a backflip, then landed it on hands and feet as if he were walking on all four, then took a sprinting start straight ahead as Blaine staggered from the blow and tackled his legs.

Blaine fell hard on his front and his head bounced off the floor loudly. Outsider rolled from him and straddled his back with his knees, knives poised for the kill.

However he hesitated as he remembered the look upon Blaine's face when Blaide fell and they had let each other be after the match. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't help but empathize with him for losing someone he cared about and not being able to do anything to bring them back.

Outsider stood and faced the crowds, not really seeing them at all, then turned for his room to forget them. He was through with this and ready for the next day. A day of training and conditioning that would allow him to forget everything else without having to harm anyone.

He was two paces from the door when the dirk spun through the air and imbedded itself in his shoulder blade.

He grit his teeth, determined not to scream, and fell against the wall. The blinding pain shot through him and coursed through his veins to every fiber of his being. By the burning he knew it had pierced muscle tissue; exactly one of the things he had hoped to avoid, and would take some time to heal properly.

But he quickly formulated a course of response and stood quickly, dodging to the side as the inevitable stroke fell. The dirk stuck in the wooden door and Outsider struck out with the hilt of his dagger upon Blaine's ribs to gain some breathing room. His right arm wouldn't respond properly and instead twitched slightly as the muscle assessed the damage done to it.

Using his one good arm, he parried the dirk coming at him and kicked the back of Blaine's kneecap with just enough force for it to buckle. He held his dagger to Blaine's throat to finish the job but without his other hand to hold him steady, he took a backward headbutt to the face and stumbled away as his sutures ripped open agonizingly.

Half blinded by pain and the blood now running down his face into his eye, he didn't see the boot coming until it struck him in the mouth. He felt his lips bust and the rusty taste of blood coated his tongue.

He tripped backwards over uneven ground and did a somersault in the air; landing hard on his front. Still on his knees, he turned and blocked a series of attacks but soon felt the dirk pass across his upper arm and part flesh. He ignored it and shook the dirk away at the price of deepening the wound.

Blaine used downward strikes to force Outsider down every time he attempted to stand and pressed on relentlessly; unleashing every combo and technique he knew against the champion to defeat him.

But Outsider knew more and deflected them all, mind working furiously to identify them by his stance and posture as well as grip on the weapon. A few he didn't recognize and nearly fell prey to, but ultimately managed to keep blade to blade contact; ruining the attack. They did however cause him to question how Blaine would know such advanced moves that even he, specifically trained and raised to fight, didn't have knowledge of.

A sudden movement to the side and Blaine had done a three hundred and sixty degree turn on one foot and kicked out with the other with full force. On his knees as he was, Outsider had no choice but to block it with his one good arm futilely.

The kick knocked his arm into his chest and he nearly fell over if not for his wounded arm's surprise decision to obey and catch him. He turned on his arm to face the ground and stepped forward just in time for a second kick to push him forward fast enough for him to twist back around and see Blaine throw the second dirk.

Reacting without conscious thought, Outsider flicked his dagger forward and amazed himself when it clanged into the airborne dirk mid-flight. The two blades whistled through the air in opposite directions several feet away.

Both of them disarmed, but Outsider obviously wounded, Blaine charged him to finish the match with his bare hands. He built up speed and traction for a good kick as he had done before and counted down the strides until he would leap forward.

Outsider looked side to side, knowing he couldn't win in his current state and tried to raise his arms in defense; but his right arm still wouldn't obey. His eyes widened. Grimacing, he reached behind him and biting down against the fire burning in his very nerves, plucked the dirk from his back with a spurt of blood, and hurled it forward.

The dirk seemed to freeze in the air for a moment; coming to a complete standstill in which he could make out every insignificant detail about it. His blood smeared across it, the warped reflection of the arena across its length, and the light glinting off it; even the drops of red spinning from it like a comet's tail seemed stalled.

Then time resumed and the dirk sunk into Blaine's chest just below his heart with a thump that seemed to echo throughout the entire arena and reverberated through Outsider's body as if he had been the one stabbed. Blaine's steps slowed suddenly and went slack as he clumsily stumbled forward to lean against Outsider.

The mortally wounded fighter clung to the champion desperately to stay upright; hanging onto his shoulders. Outsider held one hand against his back, and jerked the dirk in deeper with the other. Blaine convulsed and collapsed, dragging him down to the ground with him.

Outsider breathed in deeply to calm himself and shake away the regret that shot through him. Blaine was no friend of his but they were nearly of the same age; so young, and so ignorant to the error of his ways. He could have changed with time as he matured, he told himself even though he knew it wasn't likely. He shook his head and stared down at his body then glanced up at the crowd before him.

At someone who shouldn't be there.

At someone who couldn't be there.

Blaine stood in the crowd now; his face the most hate filled scowl Outsider had ever witnessed.

A cold numb set into Outsider then. His lips shook and his entire body shivered. His wide eyes set back down to the figure lying against him, whose blood was at this moment spilling on him and running down his arm. With trembling fingers, he gingerly pulled the mask off his fallen opponent.

A thick mane of white hair tied back in a ponytail fell from it. An earthy scent like the wild Shadowverse wafted past.

Outsider shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look into the face and be sure. So much pain had already ruled his life and shaped it he couldn't accept that any god would do this to him after everything. He refused to believe it. He couldn't believe it. There was no way it was her. Not her.

Not Saleane.

And then she looked up at him weakly and smiled with tears streaming down her face, her beautiful face, and opened her mouth to speak but only blood spilled out. Her eyes, those navy eyes that so entrapped him within their gaze, now ensnared him. He reached out and held her close, weeping, and tried to cover the wound. Tried to stop the blood that gushed from her chest.

Her trembling hand rose up to his face and he held it there; savoring her soft touch, when words filled his head in her melodic voice; her song flowing behind them.

I'm so sorry..I wanted to win...spare you from having to fight so many...you could focus on escaping again...I wanted to become Martialmaster so I could..could fully destroy the house my father has risen..

I wanted to save you...

I...you're the greatest person I've ever met..

The words seemed to lose focus and consistency; like sand sifting through his fingers.

I wanted so much for you...for us..

He pulled her closer and his tears dripped into her hair as he hid his face.

I'm sorry..

He held her against him until he could feel her stuttering heartbeat.

I love you..

Every last one.
Chapter Thirty Two: Awakening

Voices murmured all about him up and down like the tide. One second he could almost understand their words and wanted sorely to answer them, and the next they were on the other side of the world. The constant buzzing grew in intensity then the world shook as if it had fallen.

All talking faded away and he was left in his solace once more.

Outsider sat up from his reverie and found the room before him the exact same yet opposite. Everything within was recognizable; from the crates of supplies to the broken straw-stuffed bed he slept in each night. But it was all wrong.

The color palette seemed dingy and washed out to a grayscale that seemed somehow less substantial physically. He feared he would fall through the floor if he stepped on it.

That's when he realized he couldn't reach the floor if he had tried. He was standing on the ceiling with everything below him. The entire world was literally upside down; quite fitting, he thought, for how his life had been twisted into a cruel joke of an existence.

Slowly and fearfully as he expected gravity to take hold at any second, he made his way through the open doorway and, to his immense surprise, walked straight up the sheer wall to the antechamber; parallel to the floor.

He peaked the wall and came up onto the floor now, seemingly back to normal, but found he could just as easily walk up a wall if he so chose. He did just that and walked across the wall sideways and stuck out from it like a lantern hung too far. He passed the regulars of the house who noticed nothing strange about him.

In fact, they didn't notice him at all.

He was used to being ignored as if ghosting his way through but this time was different. It seemed too real; too honest. When he was purposely avoided he could sense it by their body language and lack of eye movement. But now they were perfectly natural in their routine and engaged each other regularly.

He watched a small group of dark elves converse as they walked toward him, completely oblivious to his existence, and straight into him. Outsider closed his eyes as he expected to be knocked from the wall but felt nothing. He opened them and saw he was still there, defying the laws of physics; the dark elves now behind him.

Outsider's eyebrow curved into an arch and he reached out for the passerby only for his hand to pass through without resistance. He stared at the man in shock, mouth agape, but noticed he seemed no different than anyone else. However when he stared down at his own hand he saw it had dissipated like smoke and was gradually reforming to its shape.

His eyes quickly roamed the room for someone to talk to; someone to ask what was going on with him, but no one paid him any heed even as he screamed at the top of his lungs. He scanned the next level for anyone who may see him and inwardly hoped the priestesses were capable of such a thing with their magic.

But his knees went slack as he ascended the wall to the chapel doors and he fell forward.

He saw himself walking the halls quickly; with purpose, fully armed and dressed for combat. How angry he seemed despite the fact his face was empty of emotion and devoid of expression; for everything about him radiated such turmoil it was tangible. His silent footfalls padded down the hall then without him.

Weak and fearing for his mind, Outsider followed himself down the far left hall and through a series of chambers until he was within one of the towers. Together they ascended the winding staircase for several minutes until they reached the top floor.

Without a knock Outsider threw open the door so hard it bounced off the wall behind it with a loud clamor. Dren flinched at the sound and dropped his bottle of liquor which shattered and splashed across his bare feet. The drunken fighter growled angrily and threw up his hands in exasperation.

"What the hell are you doing!?" He stepped forward threateningly and balled his hands into fists. "That was my last drop, boy! You best find yourself cleared out of here before I get a hold of you."

Outsider sidled into the room past himself and watched the scene; realizing what this was.

"I don't think so." the physical Outsider replied and Dren bridled at the refusal.

"What did you just say?" he asked quietly and stepped into the middle of the room. "Are you back-talking me, boy?"

Both Outsiders watched him in silence; both formulating a course of action though one of them already knew the turn of events. Dren came forward again and fixed him with a furious scowl.

"You're going to pay for this, boy. Get yourself downstairs to your room now, and don't you dare leave it till I say so. You're going to get the beating of your life. I have half a mind to flog you right now."

Outsider smiled and laughed darkly. "Oh I wish you would."

Dren's frown vanished and was replaced with shock; even fear. But he quickly recovered and set his jaw angrily. "What're you going to do, boy? You here to finally hold up to your promise?"

Outsider shrugged without blinking. "It doesn't matter anymore what I do. All I know is I'm not taking orders from you or anyone else here."

Dren crossed his arms and his arms flexed with the strain of his fists tightening. "Is that right?" He turned around and strode over to his desk where an adamantine-barbed whip lay. He picked up the leather wrapped handle and walked back to the insubordinate before him. The whip dragged across the floor with a light scraping sound like a snake hiss.

He held the weapon up in salute. "Then here's to your memory." He nodded his head. "No one will remember you, half-blood."

Then the whip lashed out with a loud crack.

Outsider stood stock still with one arm outstretched; the whip wrapped around his forearm and hooked against his bracer. Dren's mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide until they seemed ready to fall out of their sockets. Outsider returned the stare unflinchingly and coldly met his eyes with indifference. Dren tugged against the lash but might as well have been pulling a bull.

Outsider refused to budge and held the whip fast with one arm while his other came down quickly; sending his dagger from its sheath and into his hand. Then he spun forward with his arm still raised; wrapping the whip around it fully until there was none left for Dren to hold onto, and closed the distance.

Dren backed away toward the rear wall where a tall stained glass window stood at the top of the tower he called home. His feet crunched on the glass of his bottle and soaked up the alcohol into the new cuts. He cursed and jumped back from the pain and hit the window which cracked; splintering around him.

Outsider strode forward calmly.

Dren watched him and looked side to side. "Are you going to kill me, boy?" He made a move to the side but stopped as he saw Outsider's knife-hand react accordingly. He took his last shot at the boy. "You think you have what it takes to kill me? Do it. You've killed plenty of people at the say of others, but will you do it for your own pleasure?"

This brought him up short.

Outsider stopped his progress and paused to consider what he was doing. The incorporeal Outsider did likewise from the ceiling where he watched it play out. Doubts sprung up in his mind but he shook them away with the thought of his parents' death.

"You had my parents caught and murdered, Dren." he recounted slowly and deliberately. "They trusted you to keep your word but you sold them out. Led a party right to them or so you've told me a thousand times. You had them executed; him in the Arena where you forged my life, and her in public decapitation.

"You even had her head brought to me in my sleep, Dren. You did." He continued forward with every word growing in intensity without even raising his voice. "You laughed about it and watched me cry; all because a forest elf loved a dark elf." He gripped him by the collar and pressed him against the window with increasing pressure. He watched the glass crack in a spider webbing of fractures behind Dren's back. "I was a child, Dren. What you did was evil and wrong and I can never forgive you for what you've done."

He slipped his knife back in its sheath and turned his back on him. Dren reached beneath his leg and pulled a knife from his boot.

"Nor could I forgive myself if I left you to do it to someone else."

Outsider spun around in a pivot so quickly the room around him blurred and he caught only a few frames of the next second. The ghostly one however watched it all intently.

The whip around his arm unwound mid-spin and hurtled out and around Dren's throat, with the barb jutting into his jugular and out the side of his neck at an extreme angle. Blood pulsed down his front as he squirmed and gurgled for breath. He thrashed about and pressed against the window.

Dren's eyes bulged and his face paled from blood loss and fear as Outsider towered over him; no longer a boy, he realized. And with the first real look of hate from those young eyes, he was sent through the window with a kick to the chest.

The glass shattered into a scintillating shower of sparks that rained down the several hundred feet to the ground; Dren among them grasping out wildly and kicking. They seemed to hang there in the air a moment then rushed back to full speed.

Outsider leaned out the window to watch him hit.

The world behind him warped once more and shivered. The walls fluttered like cloth in the wind and grew then shrunk alarmingly. The lower levels began to quiver and shake violently until the tower began to fall apart brick by brick. Impossibly loud; the destruction turned everything silent as the two Outsiders melted into one by a relentless pull.

Body and soul reunited; everything seemed so much clearer. With renewed clarity and a better understanding of the actions that had made him who he was, he leapt from the window and away from the collapsing tower.

He plummeted to the street in the unbreakable silence with humongous chunks of stone all around him. The wind rushed past his face and ruffled his clothing and hair; clothes now more worn and weathered with hair cropped much shorter to a few inches. He was no longer his past self and reclaimed who he was just before the ground rose up and met him.

The universe was black.

He laid there, silent and still, unsure if he was dead or alive, and waited for pain to come. He measured his breathing and heartrate; blinking slowly and looking around without moving his head. What may have been ten seconds or ten hours passed and he sat up.

He looked to the left and right and felt the urge to cry; something he had long ago forgotten and buried. His eyes swam as he rose unsteadily to his feet and beheld the warm glow to his left:

A farm.

A farm with golden sheets of wheat rustling in the breeze throughout the pasture, and a little house planted on a hill not far off in the background. Trees surrounded the little valley and hid it from sight; protected and safe. He could smell the sweet aroma of honey in the air and his legs grew weak.

A pair of figures stood with arms locked on a hillock in the distance just on the horizon line with the sun behind them; casting their features in shadow. He could see his mother's golden hair flowing in the wind and his father's black skin standing in contrast to it. A shorter figure stood beside them with long flowing white hair and similarly dark skin; Saleane. Her song filtered through the darkness from the light. He took an unconscious step forward and reached out for them.

As he did he heard something else; something to the right.

He turned his head the other way and found only the black abyss staring back at him. But the voices that had tried to reach him so many times before were now audible. They were cries of alarm and warning; arguing and calling out for help. He thought he recognized a few of them.

He looked back over his shoulder at his parents and their home reassuringly to check they were still there, then cautiously stepped closer to the darkness until he could make out some of their words.

"..he's fading fast! Merlon I need more anubiroot, Thom get more water boiling..quickly now!"

"What should I do?"

"Just give me some space; keep everyone away from here."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can—"

"Just do what I tell you! Cuke I need some more healing from you."

"I'll do what I can, I'm afraid I don't have much energy left now."

"I know you've been through a lot, but I need you to hold on. We're going to lose him without you.."

Outsider took another step closer, he was sure he recognized those voices.

"I got a pulse!"

He looked back at his parents and saw the sun behind them beginning to set. He wanted to run back to them and stay there forever. To finally know their names and even his own. To see their faces and know a parent's love and the love one could find only with someone who truly understood him as Saleane did.

But he also felt a different love within himself; closer to that of a parent than a child; a responsibility.

"He's going under again! Cuke!"

"I can't! That's all I've got left!"

"No! No not now, not after everything!"

"Hang in there damn you!"

"What's happened?"

"Is he dead?"

"Get out of the way now! Give me so room!"

"That's it!"

Outsider sat up with a gasp and inhaled deeply like he had never breathed before. His eyes flicked open and he had never seen a more beautiful sight than the sunrise before him now.

Several faces around him lit up with adulation and smiles broke all around. He looked at them all; Merlon, Thom, Cuke, Natalia, and a woman he didn't recognize sitting just beside him.

He looked down then and realized he was steaming. He raised an eyebrow and they all looked to Cuke who shrugged sheepishly and blushed. "You were dying again so I shocked you." He held up his hairy hands which were similarly steaming and wiggled his fingers.

Outsider shook his head and tried to speak but couldn't form any words. He gestured to his mouth feebly and found all his muscles weak. Just sitting up proved too much and he laid back down on the cool grass beneath him. A waterskin was held to his lips and it trickled down his throat.

"Ye've been asleep a long time elf." Merlon huffed and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. "Ye got me sweatin' out me eyes!"

Thom smiled and gripped his shoulder. "We found Merlon and Cuke yesterday, perfectly healthy if not a little soft around the edges."

Outsider smiled and shook his head again. "What..happened?" he croaked barely a whisper and was given more water.

Natalia crouched beside him and gripped his hand. "After your fight with Blaine on the roof you were poisoned and passed out from losing too much blood. We," she motioned to the woman beside her and a few others sitting by a campfire a few feet away. "Watched the whole thing from afar; keeping an eye on your progress. With the guards in such poor shape thanks to you we were able to break in and get you two out of the city."

Outsider nodded as he remembered the battle and the oil-like poison on Blaine's blades. He glanced down at Natalia's hand gripping his and frowned. She noticed and pulled away.

"It's not you, it's the poison. I still can't feel a thing." He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Could be worse," Cuke added. "You could be dead or completely comatose like it was supposed to do. I found one of the dirks covered in the stuff and checked it out. It's made of some nasty stuff and I'm shocked you're alive at all."

"Speakin' of which," Merlon interrupted and narrowed his eyes. "What happened to the little sneak? I'd like to get me hands on that Blaine fella' and show 'em the way a real dwarf fights I would."

Outsider's eyes widened and he looked to Thom who shrugged. "I was busy trying to get you to stop bleeding. When they showed up and I had time to breathe, he was already missing."

"Well either way, he's gone now and you're alive." Natalia interjected. "This is my sister, Bryn, the mastermind behind your escape."

"And a thumpin' good nurse too." Merlon added gratefully. "She and Cuke kept you alive this whole time."

"Yes," Bryn added then with a shy smile. "But I promise you it wasn't this bad the first week."

"Wait, first week? How long have I been out?" Outsider asked and looked about the group slowly; too tired to move any faster.

"Eleven days now." Thom answered and lowered his gaze. "We're just outside Journ now but we decided to wait for you to wake up first."

"Why?"

Cuke intercepted for the hobbit then. "Because I was right, and it's a demon; an infuriated demon." he clarified. "A demon named Cancer, who feeds off pain and suffering. And he got quite a bit of it off people all over the place; that's why he kidnapped everyone to get Merlon so tore up inside."

"Just to cause him pain and feed off it?"

"Well, that, and to get him to stop making religious symbols made of silver. Demons can't stand 'em." Cuke elaborated and all eyes were on Merlon.

"What're ye' all lookin' at me for?" he asked very blustered and stood with his arms crossed over his barrel-shaped chest.

"They want to know what you want to do about it." Outsider guessed and smiled reassuringly. "We're with you, Merlon, just give me a day to recover."

The others all turned to him then, surprisingly angry and shouting. "A day!"

"Just one stinking day!"

"Who does he think he is?"

Outsider shrugged weakly and tried to placate them. "Fine, two days."

"Three." Merlon countered and everyone went quiet. "I need ye' at tip top shape if we're to be fightin' a demon; they aint no stroll through the meadow I tell ye'." He turned to the cleric then. "I'll be needin' ye' as well, Cuke. Your priestly magic oughta hurt 'em plenty eh?"

"Of course." Cuke acknowledged with little resolve. He wasn't one to go into a fight against unknown odds but he wouldn't let them go on without him either. "I'll start preparing spells right away now that Outsider's stabilized."

He stood and went off at once for his huge pack. The others similarly took their leave with promises of catching him up on events later to give Outsider time to rest. Bryn stayed behind to make sure he got enough to drink and offered him some more water.

"Thank you but if I drink any more I fear my eyeballs will begin to float. Though I am curious, why did you leave Cain Sander with us?"

She fell silent a moment and wringed her hands together. "I took over my pa's business twenty years ago; when the city was still wholesome." Her eyes tightened as she smiled at the memory, but soon it faded to a somber façade. "But ever since then I've watched it decline until it became the tainted slum it is now. Natalia came to me as no more than a child and I knew I had to take her in, to get her away from there.

"But by the time she was old enough, she fell in with the wrong crowd and became trapped there. I tried to get her debts paid but she refused and even sent money back to me. But when she showed up on my doorstep with news of Six Feet Under's destruction...I knew it was time."

He watched her face as it expressed several emotions in the span of a few seconds; joy, pain, fear, regret. He nodded and empathized. She looked up then and saw him studying her.

Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and stood.

"Your wounds were cleaned and sewn over a week ago, so with Cuke's magic on top of that, they're just scars now; so focus on getting your sleep and plenty of food first, then you can worry about fighting demons. Okay?" Bryn established and bade him to sleep. "Oh, by the way, Natalia wants to apologize for how she reacted before. If you could be gentle on her.." She left it at that and departed for the fire to warm herself.

He stopped her with a brief call. "Where's Jiff?"

"He's over with the other horses in a small thicket where they can graze."

He nodded and laid his head back down as she walked away.

Outsider took the time to eat some hot stew and found it nearly impossible to keep down so he instead had some bread dipped in the broth; finding it easier to manage. Then content, he rolled over and easily fell into his waking dreams; finding his conscience clearer now that he had relived his worst days and pains.
Chapter Thirty Three: A Group Effort

The next three days were quite the three days to remember. Bryn busied herself checking up on Outsider every few hours and assessing his progress based on his descriptions of how he was feeling, but the fact that he couldn't feel anything hindered the process. Instead she began seeing how much he could move by having him perform a series of stretches every four hours and comparing.

Thom practiced with Merlon and the three men from Bryn's group to get his fighting back up to par. His little axe was long gone by now so he substituted it with a long knife one of the men had as it was practically a short sword to him. The gruff dwarf spent many long hours instructing him how to block and dodge while keeping your footing, then showed him the basics of footwork.

"Ye' have to keep yer upper half balanced by the lower." he explained. "If ye' swing too far without spreadin' yer legs to a wide stance ye'll fall right over. So accommodate for bigger strikes with bigger steps."

Their progress went well and Thom was soon able to hold his own against the men one on one, though he was no expert by any means. They all left with new bumps and bruises to nurse and Thom with the most. But the hobbit was happy to do it and hoped to prove himself useful.

Cuke spent most of his hours sifting through scrolls and tomes then checking his personal notes to make the optimum selection of spells. He wanted a good mix of offense and defense to support his friends, but had trouble finding spells he thought would make a dent against a demon.

He scratched his balding head and continued flipping through the old, dog-eared pages.

Natalia visited Outsider the first day and sat with him for awhile, telling him she was sorry for reacting so poorly and that she had come back not an hour after looking for him.

"I was so scared you were going to get caught by them," she recounted. "I told Bryn about it and she sent some of the men to watch the prison, and the next day they said they thought they saw someone crossing a rope there. I knew it had to be you, so we set out to keep watch."

"How did you watch?" he asked and managed to sit up fully.

She reached into her pocket and removed a rustic spyglass with a wooden body and golden border around to the lens. "We have a few of these with us at all times and just watched what we could through the windows. Which wasn't much I have to tell you.

"But when Blaine and Thom came out on the roof, I knew you would follow. As soon as you did we set out immediately to get you both out. The guards tried to stop us at first but once we showed them we meant business, they had too few to do anything but watch."

Outsider stroked his chin as he imagined it all happening chronologically. "Well I'm glad you did otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"It was definitely a close call." she agreed. "You had already lost so much blood by the time we got there..we brought you back to the inn for a day to get some fluids in you, then set out that night to take you to Journ as Thom instructed." Her eyes moved from his face to the hobbit across the camp. "He didn't leave your side once. I think he feels he needs to repay you somehow for saving him."

Outsider nodded. "I came to the same conclusion. But I don't agree with it; he'll just get himself hurt trying to prove he can." He tried to stand then for the first time but couldn't get his legs beneath him.

"Take it easy, give it some time."

"Like I have a choice."

Bryn came over then and handed him a bowl of a foul smelling broth. "Drink it, it's good." He wrinkled his nose and looked at her incredulously but she waved her hand to hurry. With a shrug, he tilted the bowl back and drank it all as fast as he could; ignoring the bitter taste that coated his tongue like chalk.

He cringed. "Why couldn't I have lost my sense of taste too?"

"You're sitting up on your own now. Seems you're making good progress." She took the empty bowl from him. "And I meant it's good for you, not good tasting."

The second day was spent doing much the same but at a more fervent pace as the weather took a turn for the worse. The constant gray of the sky had turned a bruised purple and threatened snow. Already the wind had picked up and brought with it a bone-chilling gale worthy of legend.

All but Merlon, who was accustomed to cold weather, and Outsider who was still wrapped in a blanket and his tattered cloak, shivered and shook. More wood was collected and thrown into the fire with a large pile nearby just in case.

Thom wrapped his arms around his chest and put his small hands in his armpits to warm them. "I swear to any god that's listening, I'll never steal again if I can just be warm!"

Merlon clapped him on the shoulder, bowling him over as typical, and picked him up. "Oh come now, boy, it aint so bad."

"Maybe not for you with a beard as thick as a wool blanket." Thom scoffed.

"I thought ye' had a little dwarf in ye'?"

"Only when he's fighting." Natalia put in with a wink and smile.

Merlon and Thom shared a surprised glance and as one raised an eyebrow into an arch with a crooked grin. Despite their thorough attempt at hiding it by masterly turning their backs to her, she didn't miss it and suppressed her giggling.

"Boys." Bryn laughed and shook her head.

Outsider walked past then with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The women jumped up to stop him but he waved them away. "I'm fine, I'm fine; I'm walking aren't I?" and he made his way to the fire where he sat heavily with his hands out.

Cuke looked up from his pages and to Outsider who was frowning at the flames in deep thought. "Cold are we?"

Outsider remained pensive for a moment then noticed Cuke's waiting face. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you cold?"

Outsider shook his head. "I wish."

On the third day, the weather escalated and beat down on the group. Snowflakes rained down on them in sheets upon the howling wind. The fire flared in and out as the storm buffeted it, even blowing over poor Thom.

Outsider trudged over to Merlon who was sitting near Natalia and Bryn discussing business plans. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think we have a problem." He pointed across the plains the opposite direction of Journ. There, the sky was black and roiling like water set to boil. "That's a blizzard coming right for us."

Merlon cursed and shook the frost from his beard. "Yer not gonna say what I think yer gonna say are ye'?" His eyes locked with Outsider's and they shared a silent conversation in the look alone. He nodded and looked down at the ground. "I thought ye' would."

Natalia and Bryn looked to them for an explanation. "Thought he would what?"

When Merlon didn't answer Outsider did. "Thought I would suggest we move into the town early."

The women cast a concerned eye on one another then around the group. "What about the demon?"

"That's not going to matter if we freeze to death in the middle of a storm. At least there we can bunker down inside a house with walls, a roof over our head, and a stove to keep the fire going." Outsider sighed and called Cuke over. "Will they work?"

"I think they will."

The hunter eyed the cleric critically but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Alright, that's good enough for me."

"What are they?" Natalia asked. Merlon remained staring at the ground with a still growing pile of snow atop his bushy head.

"They're symbols of Dirringyr and Griphon that Merlon crafted from silver. I blessed them last night as well." Cuke showed them the small silver pieces; one a round anvil and the other a square hammer. "They should repel Cancer enough to leave us alone if we stay together."

"Should?" Thom's voice squeaked and he appeared from within the snow that was now to his chest.

"Should." Outsider echoed. "It's the only chance we've got so I say we take it. Unless you'd prefer to sit through that?" They all turned to regard the tempest fast approaching, and it had indeed grown more perilous to stay outside. "What do you think?" He looked about the group.

The men stood by Bryn and Natalia. "We go wherever they go."

The women shrugged and Bryn wrapped her arm around her sister's shoulders. "What choice do we have? We'll go in the town."

Outsider watched Thom's reaction. "As long as it's warm and keeps me dry, I would go even without those symbols."

"Cuke?"

The cleric stuffed his books back into his pack and heaved it onto his shoulders. "They don't call it the wild north for nothing." He grinned at the prospect. "It's been far too long since I last adventured."

Outsider glanced down at the mound of snow beside him last. "Well what do you say about it all?" Merlon stood and the white pile collapsed as he appeared from within it. He grabbed his small pack and slung his axion to his back without a word.

Together, with all of their supplies and plenty of firewood in tow, they made their way into the little town; descending down the hill to the street. Merlon walked the slowest and felt as if all the world was upon his shoulders. He felt a longing in his heart that ached miserably as the buildings he had seen every day for so much of his life came into view.

Yet at the same time, the dark feeling of being watched crept over him and he felt a tug at his consciousness. Like a worm burrowing into an apple, he felt something pressing against his mind and he recoiled from the presence. "Cuke!" he called out. "Pass out the symbols. Now."

The cleric obliged and once everyone had their charm with them, he felt better. The group passed the first house then and Merlon called for a halt. "There're small houses throughout the little town and mines one of 'em, but I think we should all stay in the inn. It's the largest an' has a big stove that can heat the entire place."

They followed the gruff dwarf inside and shook off the eerie feeling abandoned buildings shared. Merlon's mind was years away as he saw the inside of the tavern and he could clearly picture all his friends there cheering a rousing drinking song for them all to empty their foaming mugs to, while Garth tended to each table replacing the drained glasses with full ones, and a roaring fire in the back of the room casting the homey glow across them all.

Outsider patted him on the shoulder and made his way to the corner of the room to rest. An hour later, the group was settled and a fire crackled happily in the stove. The wooden floor was smooth from years of feet stomping it so, and created a comfortable enough stay. But the wooden walls creaked and groaned like voices calling out as the storm pressed them.

Merlon sat back and watched as his memories of the place gave way to the reality of it; the stark contrast heartbreaking. He balled his gloved hands into fists and wiped the tears from his eyes. With a sigh he pulled his axion close and began sharpening it determinedly; a new drive in his limbs and a fire in his heart to restore Garth's home, his home, and all of his old friends' homes, to their former glory.
Chapter Thirty Four: Journ

"Just what exactly is the plan?" Thom inquired of the group and looked from side to side. His little hands gripped his silver relic tightly and he ran his fingers over the intricately carved lines. "I mean, we can't hold onto these things forever."

"The boy's right." Merlon agreed and gratefully accepted a pinch of smoking weed. With a match struck he lit his corncob pipe and puffed on it happily. Thom waved the smoke away from his face and coughed as it stung his eyes and nose. The three men nodded deferentially to the gruff dwarf and raised their pipes in salute.

Natalia stirred the kettle of bubbling stew with a long spoon while Bryn sliced bits of potatoes and carrots into it. The vegetable coins plopped into the broth and soon the room filled with the husky bouquet of food.

Merlon leaned forward from his seat on the floor and eyed the kettle; straining to see over the top without having to stand. "There any meat in there? Ye' got to have meat if ye' want your men to be strong and hardy. That's why dwarves are so tough; we eat nothin' but meat and drink nothin' but ale."

"It's also why they're so heavy." Thom muttered and everyone but Cuke and Merlon snickered.

"Either way," Natalia answered at last before the surly dwarf could retort. "Outsider's out hunting as we speak and I'm sure he'll come back with something." She nodded reassuringly and set back to stirring slowly.

"It is his job after all." Bryn added and the room soon settled to a comfortable lull. The sounds of the crackling fire, boiling stew, and raging storm created a steady rhythm to the world around them to relax to. Thom rolled up into a ball inside his cape and was soon snoring soundly.

Merlon sank down next to Cuke and nudged him with his elbow. The cleric turned to regard him somewhat hesitantly; an observation the old dwarf surely didn't miss. "So what's the plan now?"

The eccentric dwarf scratched his balding head and leaned it against the wall behind him. "I don't know," he replied staring at the ceiling. "I assume the first thing should be to figure out how we're going to defeat this thing and what we hope to accomplish."

Merlon's thick bushy eyebrows pressed together and his whole face wrinkled. "Whaddya' mean 'hope to accomplish'? I aim to kill the durn thing and be done with it!"

"I know, and I understand," Cuke responded and tried to calm the surly fighter. "But you have to think, even if we do somehow manage to kill it, how will that help us find everyone?"

The two dwarves stared each other down until Merlon nodded and settled; unable to refute the logic. He sighed and brushed his fingers through the thick black jungle on his face. Cuke likewise continued to scratch his bald spot; unknowingly adding to the problem as he rubbed away the few hairs remaining on his crown.

"So we need to get it to spill its guts." Merlon surmised. "I think I know how we can do that."

"How?" Cuke's eyebrow rose and he turned to face him. Merlon smiled deviously and tapped the side of his nose.

***

He squinted through the flurries that swirled in his face and pulled the cowl of his hood lower. All the world around him was aflutter with snow falling in every direction. Never before had he seen such strange wind patterns that even the trees didn't know which way to blow. He ducked beneath their low-hanging, snow-laden boughs and delved deeper into the forest.

His mind was heavy with concern; for his friends and to a lesser degree himself. As if coming into an abandoned town to hunt a demon wasn't perilous enough, it now seemed Blaine had somehow survived their last incursion. Top it off with a semi-potent poison that numbed his body from all feeling and he wasn't too thrilled with the prospects his future held.

But he couldn't help but grin as the trees grew thick about him. The wild had always been his true home, and here in the north there was no better climate suited for just that. Crouching low in the frosty white, he pulled his cloak tighter to mask his scent.

He inhaled deeply and smelled the wintry mix of pine and cold; the latter an aroma all its own. He scanned the ground or rather the thick layer of powder atop it, and soon spotted a curving line of prints. Upon further inspection he identified them as deer tracks; a wounded doe carrying a limp based on the slight drag to the rear prints.

Another smiled creased his cheek and he started forward again, pushing such dark thoughts away, with lighter steps that crunched through the snow.

***

"Brilliant!" Cuke exclaimed and clapped his hands together excitedly. Already his mind was awhirl with possibilities.

"Brilliant." Natalia echoed sarcastically and slumped slightly as she swapped arms to stir. She looked out the window and bit her lip. "He's been gone a long time hasn't he?"

Merlon glanced out the glass and shrugged. "Huntin's patient business, 'specially in bad weather." Then went back to stroking his beard in deep thought and leaned against the wall; oblivious to the concern in the exotic woman's eyes.

She chewed the inside of her cheek and focused on the boiling pot before her; watching the bits of vegetable bob in and out of the frothy broth like turtles checking if the coast was clear, but found her thoughts turning to the meat missing from the stew and who was responsible fo bringing it.

She glanced out the window once more and took an involuntary breath in. The spoon dropped into the kettle and disappeared beneath the roiling surface. Bryn looked up and saw Natalia's pale face still staring at the outside.

"Relax, Nat, he'll be back soon; just taking his time to be careful in this storm." she reasoned and shook her lightly. "How about we get some bread to hold us over for now?" She opened her bag's flap and removed a thick length of sourdough.

Merlon's thinking, Cuke's planning, and even Thom's sleeping ceased immediately and all three appeared before the woman with the loaf; eyes wide and mouths watering. She laughed and tore them off a few chunks. "Boys." She turned to her three companions and they took their share as well.

Natalia refused her portion and continued to watch the growing blizzard silently; trying to justify what she had seen. Her mind worked furiously to come up with a reasonable explanation but for the moment none came forth. She chewed her lip and watched the window long after it had frosted over.

***

The trail was fairly recent and easy enough to follow what with the snow giving the prints extra definition, but it took the strangest winding path he had ever seen. Rather than take a simple route to some sheltered area as typical of deer, this one went around obstacles and sometimes through them only to double back on itself and take a wide arc to circle around. He could picture the deer making it but not why.

He crept through a copse of trees and turned sideways to squeeze between two trunks through a narrow space then grimaced as thorns caught his cloak and noisily tugged free.

A twig snapped nearby and he froze mid-step; perched awkwardly on one foot.

His eyes raked the whirling forest as snow and ice crisscrossed the air and blurred his vision. The grid pattern of tree branches, shrubbery, vines, and their shadows across from them, all shook and swayed with disorienting delays. The gap between light and dark disrupted depth perception and the ground rolled as the wind shifted the powder.

He relaxed his eyes then rather than attempting to focus on any specific part of the mottled background. The scene steadied and seemed to calm as the motion became irrelevant. He held the entirety of the picture before him only as it was and expected nothing more to appear.

Then something did.

***

"What about getting it to stop?"

"Oh that's easy, a few whacks of me axe'll fix that problem right up!"

"Okay, but what if it doesn't?"

"You clerics are a worrisome bunch aint ye'?"

"It's what's kept me alive so far."

"Well I'm more than eight times yer senior so it aint that impressive."

The two dwarves bickered back and forth while Bryn diligently kept the stew simmering. Two of the men prepared cots from blankets and logs while the third stacked the firewood near the stove and tossed in a bit more.

Thom snoozed soundly in the corner and dreamed of the luxuries he had been without for far too long. He sucked on his thumb and imagined it to be the sweetest strawberry he'd ever tasted then took a big bite.

He howled and leapt up from his pallet like it was on fire.

All eyes turned on him as he gingerly rubbed his throbbing thumb, then, with a collective shrug; all went back to their work. The hobbit mumbled something unintelligible about berries and sat himself near the kettle.

With a deep sniff of the steam rising from the pot, he wiped the salivation on his arm and licked his lips. "So how long until supper's ready?"

Bryn watched for some sign of fear in her sister's face but saw nothing. She glanced around the room then back down to the kettle. "I'm afraid it won't be as filling as we'd hoped, but if we leave it brewing too much longer it'll go soggy." She watched Natalia as she said it and still noticed no response.

In truth she hadn't even heard Bryn or Thom. She was still enthralled with her search for a logical answer to what she had seen over an hour earlier. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn't bring herself to find it true, but neither could she declare it impossible. All in all it was unlikely but crazier things have happened, and she looked about the motley crew that had assembled here.

She jumped as a hand gripped her shoulder.

"Nat?" Bryn asked with worry obvious on her sweet face. Lines creased her forehead just above her rich brown eyes and below the bun her hair was tied back into. Natalia noticed the gray roots then and for the first time really saw her sister as aging.

She hugged her tightly then and pressed her face to her warm neck, sobbing. She held on to the dearest person in her existence and willed the world away; hoping it would disappear along with everyone who wished them harm.

Her eyes focused on the window behind Bryn's back as they embraced; shattering the brief reverie of solace she had found.

***

A slim figure walked into the open and stood waiting; watching him expectantly. He paused and watched it for a while and feared it was the demon coming for him. Then it pulled back its hood and his heart nearly stopped.

Saleane stood across the field from him, a smile on her face and tears on her cheeks. He took an involuntary step forward and reached out for her. She smiled then looked over her shoulder. He saw something flash across her face and she ran down the trail. She glanced back at him, terrified, and he breathlessly followed; unable to make sense of this.

His heart and mind buzzed with excitement, alarm, and worry. He chased after her through the brush and between trees; winding paths and rough terrain slowing his pace considerably. She began to outpace him and he forced himself faster to the point he was sprinting recklessly. He wasn't sure she was really there, but he had to know.

He reached out for her and nearly gripped her shoulder when he tripped over a root and sprawled out in the snow. She passed around a tree as soon as he looked up and never came around it. He froze and waited for her to emerge from behind it. Nothing.

With a hammering heart and wide eyes he made his way to it and found no sign of her; not even a mark in the snow. He looked back the way he had come and found only one set of prints. With a heavy feeling in his chest that sank like a rock he sat against a tree and laid his head in his arms. He mulled over the wild response he had had to seeing her and chastised himself for such behavior.

A large shrub rustled nearby and he held his breath; stock still and anxious to see her again.

A doe emerged from the brush and paused to nip at a nearby bush. Her coat was thick and sheen as if wet, with ruffles and knots from running. Her eyes roamed constantly as she nibbled the leaves and her sides rose and fell rapidly.

Spooked, he realized.

He slowly rose and took a step when it turned his way. He remained stationary on one foot within the snow until he was fully covered in white and camouflaged. As such he slowly lowered his leg to the ground and eased his way into a crouch. He exhaled a steady stream of warm air to slow his heartrate; steam swirling away before him.

Beneath his frosted cloak he slipped his remaining knife into his hand and grimaced at the thought of his supplies tucked away in that tree near Cain Sander; including his arrows. Testing the weight by the pull of his arm, he spun the blade around in his fingers experimentally to see if he still could without his sense of touch. To his amazement and satisfaction he discovered he could.

I guess some things you don't have to think about, he recited to himself and smiled. Low to the ground and still coated in snow he ghosted his way forward with his weight distributed to each foot to avoid breaking through the crunchy ice. He passed atop the snow lightly and through the icy gales toward the doe with knife in hand.

***

The fire within the stove illuminated the inn with the same golden glow Merlon had come to cherish; the same color, tone, and even the wood, but the feel of it couldn't have been more wrong. He didn't feel warm at all within the light and shivered as a cold tingle ran down his spine. He stared into the coals and watched the orange and black embers smolder.

With a sigh the dwarf fighter stood and made his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Thom asked and followed him across the room. The others watched him go with similar expressions displayed.

Merlon frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "Just need some fresh air is all. Thought I'd go visit me house for a spell." His face blushed a sort of scarlet beneath his beard and he shuffled his feet. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Don't you want something to eat? This stew can't wait for Outsider anymore so it'd best be eaten now." Bryn offered and lifted an empty bowl toward the kettle.

The old dwarf shook his hairy head and hung his silver totem around his neck from a chain. "Don't worry, I'll be back in plenty o time to eat. I don't miss me supper."

Thom bit his tongue to hold back from asking if he could go with him until he was sure it would bleed. Merlon threw open the door with a heavy tug and instantly the roaring wind blasted through with a powerful chill that nearly extinguished the fire and filled every inch of the room; cutting through their clothes like a knife and creeping into their bones.

As one they flinched and wrapped their arms about themselves tighter even after the door had shut. Thom raced to the window and wiped the fog from the glass with his sleeve. Peering over the windowsill on his tiptoes he watched Merlon fade away then disappear completely into the storm.

***

With hands clasped together in his jacket and head low to the relentless tempest that assailed him every step of the way; a reddened nose led the way like a torch. Heavy boots plodded through the snow and only grew heavier as it compacted to solid ice within the tread of the soles. Heavy axion bobbing up and down along his back, he pushed his way against the current and down the lonesome street of Journ.

With every footfall the town flashed to life around him; the trees green, the buildings alit with light shining through their windows, and folks to wave to as they walked past. He could hear voices as they greeted one another or bartered prices for the goods on display. The sweet scent of bread and honey wafted past on the cool breeze and he breathed in deeply.

A voice called out his name.

He spun around quickly but saw only the empty street. He blinked a few times and looked side to side; peering through the shifting veil of flurries that rippled across the air in layer after endless layer. His eyes climbed the walls around him as he searched the buildings but found all the life gone; color washed away.

"Just me imagination it is," he muttered and tried to ignore the disappointment that threatened to upheave all he had strived for. He knew giving in to the depression that so tarnished his home now would only succeed in losing himself to it as he had before.

He spat on the ground and it froze on contact. "I've got to keep me head so I can lop off it's." he growled with the thought of facing the demon fresh in his mind. No fear was found there nor restraint; he wanted it to find him, to come to him one on one. He snorted and laughed at how angry he had become.

"'So much frownin' will give ye' wrinkles'." he quoted then stopped short at the memory. He held back the wall of regret that threatened to drown him once unleashed behind a dam of determination. "Not yet; not now."

In silence he trudged against the storm with Journ reviving and dying around him with his every step. With the vivid color palettes shifting before his eyes; leaving afterimages with alarming disorientation following, he arrived at his own doorstep in what seemed like hours later.

He eyed the thick oak door with grim resignation. The intricate carvings of his gods upon the frame shone like a beacon for all his woes to converge. Hand trembling, and not due to the cold, he hesitated at the doorknob. He feared what he might find within and wished he hadn't come as soon as his gnarled fingers wrapped around the brass handle.

***

The group closed in around the kettle and each took a bowl in turn. Bryn filled each with piping hot stew and a wooden spoon. "Take care not to spill, its' very hot." she warned as Cuke stumbled over a bedroll and nearly did just that. She noticed Thom over by the window and winced at the worry upon his young face; a perfect match to that on Natalia's.

She came over to the little hobbit then and wrapped her arm about him easily. "Aren't you hungry Thom? There's plenty of stew waiting you know." She offered and shook him lightly. His round eyes looked up to hers softly and he shook his head. She could see the fear in those round orbs and nodded solemnly. "Well if you change your mind it's there for you."

Bryn took her place near the pot and poured herself a bowl. She breathed in the steam that coiled from it and did so for several minutes; letting the hot soup warm her hands. One of the men, the eldest with graying hair, tapped her on the shoulder.

"Yes, Graham?" she asked politely and he merely pointed across the room. She followed his indication and found Natalia sitting very still with her eyes focused on the untouched bowl of stew before her. Bryn nodded to the man and made her way to her sister.

"Hey Nat, how's the supper we made?"

Natalia shrugged without looking away from the bowl. Her face seemed deflated; lax and uncaring yet without emotion; posture slumped and back bowed with the weight of her worries. Her older sister watched her quietly and likewise lost appetite.

She stood suddenly and pulled Natalia to her feet. She placed a finger over her mouth and tugged her along to the other room with a reassuring glance at Cuke and the men who asked where they were going. She led her sister up the stairs at the corner of the room and to the first open bedroom.

"What did you see?" Bryn asked bluntly.

Natalia's eyed widened and she felt very exposed. She leaned away from her sister and looked at her hard in the low light. Bags hung under her eyes and the lines across her mouth and forehead seemed deeper and more pronounced. Their eye contact spoke volumes without words.

"You saw him too." Natalia accused and gripped Bryn's hands. "I knew it couldn't have been only me; he was right there at the window." she rushed breathlessly and closed her eyes.

Bryn shook her head slowly and leaned in close. "Who did you see?"

"The dark elf who took me before; the one with the red eyes." Natalia answered reluctantly and gauged her sister's reactions which seemed to tighten. "You had to have seen him too?"

Bryn shook her head again. Her eyes were cast low and her mouth pressed into a thin line. "I saw someone I know to be far, far away," she exhaled shakily and smiled faintly as Natalia gripped her hands again comfortingly. "I saw my ex husband."

"Peter? You saw Peter out there?"

"Aye, at the window; just as you saw the elf." They sat together for a moment and a knock came to the door. "Come in."

Cuke entered the room hesitantly and cleared his throat; obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable. His face blushed and he stared at the floor as he spoke. "Err, umm...its...its real quiet here..." He turned his head to the side awkwardly and his arms hung limply at his sides. "And well...I uh...I couldn't help but...but overhear you.."

The woman looked to each other then back to the cleric. Natalia frowned and scoffed. "You just couldn't help it huh? Nosey little dwarf, I oughta—"

"Nat!" Bryn reprimanded and pulled her face to the side to look her in the eye. "I'm sure mister Barleybeard here didn't eavesdrop on purpose. Isn't that right?"

Cuke nodded earnestly. "Of course. I was actually quite annoyed by it as I was in the middle of reading a scroll detailing an ale so powerfully enchanted that it's been used as dwarven fuel for generations. I was hoping to—"

"Get to the point dwarf!" Natalia shouted and cut him off.

Cuke nodded again and laughed nervously. "Of course, so sorry. As I came here to tell you, I believe it's the demon's doing. Your visions I mean."

"How exactly is that?" Bryn asked curiously and squeezed her sister's hand to quiet her.

"Well, to be frank about it and not bore you," he looked pointedly at Natalia. "I believe it has the ability to cause emotional pain by manifesting your worst fears and inner turmoil. That way it can feed itself off your suffering without having to directly interfere by causing physical pain. As such, I am confident the things you have seen are only illusions and nothing more."

The two woman breathed a sigh of relief and hugged each other tightly and then Cuke. The cleric blushed a deeper shade of scarlet all the way up to his bald spot as his face was buried between their bosoms and giggled. Natalia and Bryn laughed and literally pulled him along downstairs.

Immensely relieved and set free from their deeply buried concerns, they returned to their bowls and hurriedly ate the stew before it grew cold. Satisfied on both a physical and emotional level, the two women gratefully took the opportunity to sit back and relax as they waited for Merlon and Outsider to return.

Natalia turned to Cuke a few minutes later. "Hey, Cuke, what did you see?"

The cleric shrugged and continued reading. "Eh, just saw me grotesquely fat and without a woman."

Thom guffawed across the room. "Where'd you see that, the mirror?"

***

He turned the doorknob and gave the door a push. The frosted over hinges squeaked loudly but gave way easily enough. He remained stationary in the open doorway and looked in the room from one end to the other uneasily. Only his bare wooden floor and blank walls looked back at him.

He breathed out a sigh of...what was it? Relief, disappointment, he didn't know just yet. He hesitantly entered his house and looked around. The door swung shut behind him and he turned at the sound; coming eye to eye with the portrait of him and her hung on the inside of the door.

A flood of memories washed over him and he dropped to a knee under the staggering weight of it all. His heart seemed fit to burst with the agony that pressed it and his mind spun in circles as it struggled to process the jumbled emotions and memories at once.

He gripped the silver totem around his neck and squeezed it for support. Shaking his head and gritting his teeth he pushed himself to his feet and bit back the retort of pain that rose with him.

"Bah, I'll fight through this just like everythin' else!" he yelled then drew and swung his axion in one fluid motion. The heavy head smashed into the door with a loud crack and a long split shot up the side of it. He struck again and again, each time spitting the bits of wood that flew in his face, and each time biting just a little deeper.

A minute later and his door was gutted. Small streams of light shone through holes left in it now and the remnants of the portrait lay scattered in pieces. He stood there observing what he had done and his chest rose and fell rapidly; hands shaking at his sides.

The wind whistled through the cracks in the door with a shrill keening that wavered up and down then rose and fell. He listened to it for a moment then recognized the tune. The silver totem in his hand bent in two as his hand clamped down on it; defaced.

Instantly his nostrils flared and his mouth stretched into a defiant roar. He bellowed on the top of his lungs and gave the door a final blow that sent the halves of it flying off the hinges. The crack of the wood resounded loudly with an eerie echo that seemed to grow in intensity until it drowned out the original blow.

Merlon's teeth shook in his mouth and his eyes winced with each sound. His windows shattered and sent glass raining down on him. His axion fell to the ground and he covered his ears with his palms down on his knees. He lowered his head as the cracking sound steadily expanded into a booming that vibrated his bones and rattled his skull.

The thundering blasted him directly then and his legs slid backward out from under him. He laid on his belly with his ears covered and head down, screaming as tears streamed down his face and into his beard. He wailed and sobbed silently within the maelstrom of sound as the world shook around him.

Then it all stopped suddenly.

Merlon continued weeping and shook with every breath, but he slowly looked up at the open doorway before him.

The girl in the portrait stood there waiting.

***

His breathing was slow and steady, his feet rose and fell with methodical patience silently, his cloak was perfectly hidden in plain sight by snow, and his sharp knife as keen as his senses; at least all but touch.

He avoided the small patches of lumpier snow beneath the tree; recognizing them to be full of leaves, and took a more direct route where the ground was relatively smooth and rolled forward down a slight incline. Before the silent stalker stood the doe, wide-eyed and grazing with a layer of sweat frosted over on her hide.

He noticed this and scanned the surrounding area as he went. He noted every thick copse of tree and bush as well as the numerous patches of vines that clung to spindly shrubs. Even the rise and fall of the land was within his mind's eye as he memorized the layout.

For not the first time, he thanked whichever god was listening for picking up a few of the hunting basics from his old mentor, as well as the patience to practice them. He paused as he remembered the long days in which he had spent day and night in the wild hunting and tracking. Months had come and gone without his knowledge as he learned the finer points of identifying tracks and how to follow them; even anticipating movement, and how to move silently through all sorts of terrains.

He remembered a particularly painful week in the fall in which he had received dozens of bruised for failing to "ghostwalk" across the dead leaves and instead being attacked by a spooked deer. He had crunched his way across the clearing and all the trails after following the deer from within the treetops; another trick that had taken him painfully long to acquire.

After enough attempts he had grown tired of the headaches and attempted it with his eyes closed. He began the walk through the trail and a few minutes later came out of it purely on memory. Realizing he had performed it, he had clapped his hands loudly in celebration and set the deer into a frenzy.

Now, a year later, he was a ghost in the woods; gliding through the forest unseen and unheard to strike with deadly precision. With that day in mind he reinforced his belief not to match to where his brain told him to go and where to place his foot but to let his instincts guide him.

He closed in on the doe to within throwing range as he slipped the slender throwing knife from under his cloak. The low light of the evening sun scarcely filtered through the thick clouds so he had no worries the blade would glint.

He drew it back behind his head between his thumb and forefinger and shifted the weight to a lower fulcrum nearer his palm for a heavier throw. He took a deep breath in.

His heartbeat calmed.

The snow about him slowed in its descent.

His arm shot forward almost of its own accord.

The blade spun forward over and over repeatedly at a pace he could watch, even as it brushed flakes of snow that hung in the air out of the way, and descended on the doe's side just behind the shoulder where it sunk down to the hilt silently. He rose from his crouch as the doe fell.

And all sound returned in a sudden rush as it caught up.

He grinned at his success and made his way over to the deer when a bright light to his left caught his eye. He turned that way and a row of trees exploded into kindling with enough force that a wall of dusty snow engulfed him in an immense white cloud.

Outsider batted it away and rushed forward through the bramble to find the source; leaving the freshly killed doe behind.
Chapter Thirty Five: Tempest Bowl

Thom was the first one out of the house. Cuke and the others followed right behind him and froze in place as they saw smoke in the distance. Cuke and Thom shared a look then took off at once into the storm.

"Wait, where are you going!?" Natalia called after them and ran forward only for Bryn to stop her.

"Let them go, we can't help them now." she said and gripped her younger, brash sister tighter. "Trust me Nat, we'd just get in the way."

"I can help! I can fight and save them! I could—"

"Nat!" Bryn shook her shoulders roughly and she at last fell silent. "Calm down. You can't fight, and you already saved them. This is their turn to save themselves...and us."

Gradually the young woman stopped resisting and held back. Bryn nodded curtly as she hugged Natalia and brought her inside. Graham and the other two men left at once to see what was going on, weapons in hand. She watched them go and muttered a prayer under her breath before shutting the door.

Thom came up short as he saw the flames licking up the trees and leaping from treetop to treetop in the wild winds. Cuke gripped his collar and pulled him along through the barreling waves of snow and ice that pelted them in the face and clung to their skin. Almost on cue, their shoes became covered and heavy; slowing them considerably.

The dwarf cleric pumped his short but powerful legs to run but felt more like he was wading through water with a friend in peril just on the shore. He reached into his pocket and removed a scroll. Holding his hand out and calling to Reiin, he took a stance and read the lines quickly.

Thom stood back fearfully as he watched the flames from the trees swirl into a single large mass overhead like a coiling snake of fire. He stared in awe as the massive fireball compacted into an orb of pure white light and heat until it fit into the palm of Cuke's hand.

The cleric shrugged and laughed nervously. "Sometimes Reiin lets me get away with some wild stuff outside of my agenda." Holding the orb out before him, he willed it to release slowly and smiled as the air in front of them rippled with heat. The snow melted away and retracted so quickly it appeared alive and feeling.

They rushed ahead as quickly as they could with Cuke clearing the way when they became aware they had no idea where to begin looking. They ran past the shops and houses until they were near the end of town. The cleric turned to the hobbit.

"Where's Merlon's house at? He might still be there."

Thom shrugged and held his arms out wide. "I don't know, the last time I was here he tried to kill me!"

Cuke cursed and looked around. He spotted a series of dark shapes in the snow nearby and upon investigation found them to be bits of wood; some with runes carved into them. He looked up and across the street then found their source; an empty doorway.

They entered the house and shook off the frost that clung to their clothing. Cuke brushed it from his short beard and rubbed his bald spot. "Wish I'd remembered my helm." he murmured as he searched the dark room.

Thom did likewise and soon stopped short. He bent low and with a groan lifted up a heavy weapon he would recognize anywhere. "Merlon's axion." he said quietly and felt his legs go weak. Cuke too shivered as a deep pang of worry shot through him and he walked faster through the house.

Thom sat at the doorway with the axion in his lap; staring at it and praying his friend was alright.

"Where is he?" a familiar voice called and Thom's head jerked up immediately. The hobbit cocked his head to the side and looked this way and that for the source.

"Oh right, sorry." A dark hand appeared and knocked away the white before him and revealed a gray cloak.

"Nice camouflage." Cuke commented as he stepped outside. "He's not in there but he definitely was."

"We found this." Thom said and held up the heavy axion.

Outsider nodded and looked about. "How long ago did he leave?"

The two shorter shared a glance. "Maybe an hour?"

"Yeah, about an hour," Cuke agreed. "Said he needed some fresh air."

The elf breathed a low sigh and put his hands behind his head. "Well he'll have gotten plenty by now. Move aside." He approached the house but stooped low a few yards before it. He scanned the snow and ignored the two sets of tracks he knew to be Cuke's and Thom's; isolating a pair.

He pointed. "There, we've got some tracks to follow." The others bent low to see as he explained them. "His are these wide ones here that sink in deep. But this other pair here is small and light; almost as if another hobbit were around."

"You never can tell with us," Thom joked nervously. "Sometimes people think I'm a child."

Outsider looked up suddenly at that and made eye contact with Cuke. "Can it do that?"

"I don't know for sure but it wouldn't surprise me," he replied. "The girls saw an ex husband and a dark elf; two things they fear most."

"So you think it can conjure up whatever we fear or miss most to cause us pain?" Outsider reasoned and agreed with the hypothesis. "Did he ever mention a child to either of you?" Thom and Cuke both shook their heads. "Well I guess we'll find out the story soon enough."

He waved his arm and they started off against the current of the tempest, Outsider leading to break the wind and scan for footprints with Cuke in the rear to help Thom pluck his feet from the ground when he got stuck.

The snow fell heavily on them in sheets and made it hard to see, even for his keen elven eyes. He switched to his darkvision and found the lack of heat made him blind. Switching back to the color spectrum, he crouched low and paced as if he was hunting; low to the ground and with fluid movements. His change of stance eased his balance from foot to foot and he walked on top of the snow without sinking through.

Thom and Cuke followed behind and trudged their way along without complaint. The cold was bitter and sliced through clothing and armor alike but neither would give in to be the first to admit it was too tough. Cuke pulled a spare rag from his smaller "battle pack" and wrapped it along his head like a hat.

"Maybe I should try to replicate that poison to numb myself!" Cuke yelled over the roaring gales. "Want some?" he asked Thom who responded by breathing on his hands and rubbing them together.

Outsider came to a stop so suddenly Thom walked into him and Cuke into him. The elf pushed them away and righted himself. He raked the ground with his eyes from side to side and front to back but found nothing, not even the slightest indention.

"Either this storm's blowing too hard and cleared them, or they learned to fly." He frowned and looked to the sky despite himself.

Cuke snorted and slapped his knee. "Aint no dwarf that ever flown lest they were tossed."

Outsider paused in thought and looked about the land. They were between the forest and the town in a small clearing with little to no cover until the treeline. He scanned the horizon and found no shelters standing against it, nor a suitable position to make one. He looked to the others and found them watching him for a solution.

"I'm sorry guys, I don't see any trails," he apologized and dropped his gaze back to the ground. "Should've put more work into my hunter repertoire."

Thom looked up suddenly with eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. "That's it! You're a natural hunter and a bounty hunter!" The other two stared at him blankly. "You just need to mix the two to find him. Think about it, you're trying to track someone down, but out in the wild in the middle of a storm. If you ask me I've never met anyone suited better for the job."

Outsider looked to Cuke incredulously. The cleric shrugged with a grin apparent on his face. "I don't know Outsider, he's got a point." The elf threw up his hands in exasperation.

"I don't know what you expect me to do! He's gone, the trail has vanished, and we're in the middle of a blizzard." he growled and picked up a handful of snow.

"What would you do if we were in a city?" Thom offered and wrapped his cape closer to his neck. He shivered and watched Outsider as he thought it over.

"I would ask around and see who had seen him and when and where." he answered and stroked his chin as the pieces began to fall into place. His eyes lit with that inner fire Cuke recognized and he stood straight. "You two said he left an hour ago. We know he came to his house and someone found him around the same time the forest burst into flames."

The hobbit and dwarf nodded accordingly as he recounted what had transpired.

"How long after the explosions before you came outside and made it to where I met you?"

Cuke scratched his head then beard. "We got out the door maybe a minute after it ceased; I had to get my boots on." he chuckled almost apologetically. "Then probably another five before we got to his house down the street." He looked to Thom for a second opinion to ensure accuracy.

"Sounds about right to me," he said then crinkled his face. "I didn't really notice it before, but now that I think about it, the axion was still warm when I picked it up."

Outsider ducked low again and pulled his hood lower over his face. "In this weather and temperature it wouldn't take more than a few minutes to chill metal. He and whatever found him couldn't have been more than that ahead of us."

"Meaning what? We got close then lost them?" Cuke asked with a hard edge grown to his voice. His brow creased as he scowled at the thought and his beard bristled in the wind.

"It means they couldn't have gotten so far ahead of us that their trail was blown away, and if it was going to fly it would have as soon as it found him." Outsider declared and turned back to the end of the tracks they had been following. He crouched low once more and leaned forward onto his hands.

He felt around for a few minutes as he dug through the icy powder then brushed away the snow as he hit something resistant. A small handle appeared in the ground; iron and heavy. He gripped it tightly with both hands and stood to lift it with his legs.

The heavy round door rose from the snow with a groan, followed by a zephyr of warm air that steamed around them. Cuke inspected the door and whistled appraisingly. "This is a strong door; made out of adamantine! You ever seen the stuff?"

"Too much of it." Outsider replied and the house he grew up in flashed in his mind. He dusted the snow from his hands and peered over the edge of the tunnel. "I'll go first and tell you if it's safe. Thom, you stay up here in case we come back and need you to help us carry Merlon."

The hobbit slouched and bit his lip to hold back an argument. He merely nodded and plopped down in the snow with the door held open to serve as a wind blocker. He met Cuke's eyes then dropped them immediately.

The cleric patted him on the shoulder and gave a half hearted smile. "I'd stay if I could." he managed honestly and sat beside him as Outsider lowered himself into the tunnel. "Only the gods know what we might face down there. For all we can tell that tunnel could go straight to the Nine Hells!"

"Thanks." Outsider replied sarcastically from below with a muffled echo. His arms and legs were held out to each side and he locked his knees to brace himself against the wall behind him. Then he began lowering himself down it by keeping pressure against his back to hold himself against the wall and slowly slid deeper step by step.

His eyes closed then reopened glowing so he could see in the darkness; darkvision detailing all the temperature shifts for him. Several minutes later he changed position as if standing with each leg out to his left and right to prop himself there. Then securing his boots, he lessened the pressure of his legs and slid down the walls with his feet rather than his back.

His speed increased rapidly and he began to wonder just how deep he was going. Maybe I really am going to Hell.

Dust and bits of dirt flew from his feet as he descended quickly until he couldn't see through the dirty fog. He braced his knees and tried to lock them and stop but was instead jolted disorientingly and continued as before. Alarmed and unable to stop, he flicked both wrists forward for his knives to fling from their sheathes into his hands.

But none came.

He cursed as he remembered he'd lost the first on the rooftop against Blaine and the second was left in the doe's chest. He coughed as the dust filled his mouth and clouded his eyes so he pulled his cloak over his face. As he did so a dim light shone from within the folds.

He glanced down and saw Darkbane glowing in the sheath beneath his underarm. Hurriedly he slipped it free and stabbed it into the wall on his right with both hands. His momentum shuddered and his legs were pressed away from the walls until he was sliding down the side by his dagger.

"Damn blade's too sharp!" he spat and pulled the magically enchanted blade free. He fell into a full drop for a split second before reversing his grip and slamming the blade back into the wall with the dull end facing downward.

He hit the wall with his chest and legs, winded, but refused to let go. The jarring in his hands and arms would have been excruciating if he wasn't numb and he feared he had busted a leg earlier in his descent. He tightened his grip on the handle as he looked down past his feet to the steadily rising drop below.

The enchantment held and the blade accepted the abuse as rock and earth scraped down its length even with Outsider's full weight upon it. Gradually his momentum eased until he hung there stranded by Darkbane. He eyed the dagger gratefully perplexed and shrugged mentally.

"Cuke!" he called with his head leaned back to face up toward the hole that was now just a bright speck.

A few seconds passed. "Yeah?" the dwarf replied very distantly and hardly audible.

Outsider spat dirt from his mouth and wiped it from his eyes. "You got either an impossibly long rope or levitation spell?"

The cleric scratched his head and ruffled through his pack. "Uhh, yeah why?"

Outsider laughed disdainfully and shook his head. "Cause there's no way in the place-we're-going you could ever do what I just had to!" He rolled his shoulders as he hung on and for once was glad he couldn't feel anything. "Be careful, it's real deep!"

He placed both feet onto the wall he was currently hanging from and with a deep breath for measure kicked off it; launching to the other one where he similarly stabbed it and kicked off; repeating the process until he was able to see the ground and judge the distance.

He looked back up the tunnel with his head cocked to the side and sighed. "Real deep." he repeated and ignored his uneasiness at being back underground.

Ever since he had escaped the Shadowverse he had never returned to any sort of deep tunnel or cave by choice and even then only for a few hours at the most. The depth and darkness of it all brought him back to the city of dark elves and he couldn't resist looking this way and that to search every patch of darkness for a shadowy figure.

He cringed and descended the last twenty yards rapidly by sliding with the dagger sharp side down. He hit the ground, landing on a large pile of rope, then rolled to break his fall, and came up to his feet without pause. He looked around the darkness and groaned inwardly.

Before him loomed a great cavern; pitch black and high ceilinged with numerous stalagmites jutting up to meet the stalactites hanging like fangs. Boulders and rolling mounds of earth were strewn about the rocky grotto and patches of vines hung from several. The walls were mostly compacted earth; not quite rock, but strong enough to support such immense weight.

He rubbed his hand down one and though he couldn't feel it physically he could tell it was wet by how little effort he put in digging through with one finger and how much soil remained stuck to his hand when he pulled away.

He inhaled deeply and caught the telltale musk of earth; an obvious sign of how deep he had descended, and a mellow aroma similar to mud. He strained his ears with his eyes closed and focused on his training with Mentor. His hearing reached out phenomenally in range and he nodded as the bubbling of a brook overlapped the typical groaning and whistling of caves.

The subdued scent of nuts, like almonds and pecans, wafted past from behind.

"Don't yell." Outsider warned Cuke as the cleric floated up to him. Deflated, the cleric ended the spell and landed with a thump. He frowned and kicked at the rocky ground.

"How'd you know I was there?" he spluttered. "I was floating and holding my breath!"

The hunter shrugged. "Maybe if you didn't smell like nuts."

Cuke nodded systematically then stopped as the words took on a second meaning. "Wait a minute," he said wagging a finger. "When you say nuts, do you mean like cashews and peanuts or—"

"Listen, there's a brook up there somewhere and I aim to follow it." Outsider interrupted tactfully. "Water more often than not flows to the outside; giving us a clear trail to follow."

"How do you know it doesn't live down here?"

"I don't, but it wouldn't make sense for it to if it really is a demon." He thought back to his studies in Duskenbaijan where demons and the like were common topics. "They often choose a location different than the realm they came from; which is usually a rocky place of fires and craggy mountains."

"Too similar." Cuke decided and Outsider nodded. "Then why not stay on the surface where it's snowing and full of life? So to speak."

Outsider set off for the brook with his dwarven friend right behind him. "Maybe it doesn't like the cold; too acclimated to heat?"

"Well it's definitely hot enough down here." Cuke said and wiped sweat from his brow with the cloth he had wrapped around his head. "Wonder how it stays so hot."

Outsider paused and looked back at him. Both their eyes were aglow with darkvision and they could make each other out well enough, so he leaned in close enough to see the different shades of heat upon his face. He turned back around and contemplated the implications of the temperature down here.

"I think you're onto something Cuke," he explained as they walked. "Maybe it came down here for the heat but wanted somewhere more hospitable to thrive?" He came to a stop at the water's edge. He crouched low to the brook, which glowed brightly in the heat spectrum, and placed his over it then pulled it away. "Steam. I think this is a hot spring."

Cuke gleefully stepped into the brook and sighed contentedly. "It's certainly heavenly; can't get much different from Hell than that can you?" He reached down and scooped up two handfuls then promptly splashed it on his head and rubbed his face; the scratching sounds of his beard grating to the elf's finely tuned ears.

"Enough bathing already." he pressed and moved on. Cuke groaned and followed along behind him. The brook went fairly straight along the cavern until a tunnel came to view in which it disappeared within. The two shared a glance then continued into it more cautiously than before.

Neither were strangers to such terrain considering their heritage nor were they joyous about it either. The last thing they wanted was to face a demon in a confined space.

Water splashing over his ankles, and in Cuke's case, his calves, they curved every which way in the low hanging tunnel for several minutes which stretched into half an hour then an hour. Even Outsider's adept tracking and knowledge of underground caverns failed him and he soon lost direction. He glanced at Cuke who similarly frowned and looked over his shoulder once or twice.

Just as they began to fear they could become irrevocably lost the darkness began to wear thin at the end of the tunnel and gradually faded to a light gray. Quickening their pace, they eagerly set out for it and found themselves within a secluded gulley carved from centuries of erosion.

Outsider held up a hand to stop Cuke and inspected the area for signs of habitation or recent traversal. He roved the sheer walls of rock and granite and noted how smooth they had been weathered by the grain following a current's shape as well as how deep they had ventured by the numerous layers of sedimentary rock that colored the cliffs.

Standing between them he felt lost in time and imagined how much this rock had seen and changed over the millennia. If only these walls could speak, he pursed his lips at the thought.

In turn he looked to the dwarf and himself, inwardly acknowledging the long lifetimes their races would bestow upon them. Dwarves could easily live to be three hundred and over four if careful, meanwhile elves were renowned for living to be six, seven hundred on average and sometimes, though admittedly rare, break a thousand.

He imagined what if would be like to watch the world and times change around him as he aged then chuckled darkly. "If I live that long." he muttered and shrugged, not seeing anything dangerous about them.

They moved on through the gulley with footsteps abnormally loud within the rocky confines that echoed everything. The wind howled with a skin-chilling wail through crevices and cracks alike which only made the incessant dripping that plip-plopped in an endless pattern so accurate he could set a watch by it that much more immortal. He imagined these sounds being the permanent atmosphere for longer than any living being left on earth; another force of nature within the land.

The very air itself smelled old as if never breathed before.

"You ever feel so out of place you worry your intruding on something ancient?" Cuke whispered without looking away from the awe inspiring view. His hands were clenched at his sides and his breathing slightly elevated.

Outsider could only nod and silently agree with his friend's astute observation that so perfectly summed up how he too, felt. So they walked on in silence in a revered presence neither of them could understand.

***

Natalia crunched up in the snow behind Thom and he turned at the sound of her approach. Seeing her delicate face and tanned skin, he smiled a bit without meaning to and moved over to allow her space beside him in his small protected cover. She plopped down beside him thankfully and rubbed her hands together.

"Thanks," she shivered and her teeth chattered. Thom looked down at her clothing and saw only a blanket wrapped around basic clothing. He pressed against her and she wrapped her arm around his little form in return.

Beaming, he hid his face in his cape and blushed.

"So I take it they're down there?" she inquired and leaned forward slightly to peer down the tunnel.

Thom smiled a bit more at her exotic accent and struggled to clear his thoughts and answer as his pause became awkward. He cleared his throat nervously and nodded quickly.

"Why didn't you go?" she asked then and shot him a quick glance.

He shrugged in reply and bit his lip. "I wouldn't be much help down there. I'm none too good at fighting." He looked at her and saw the longing in her eyes to go help them. "Bryn let you come out here did she?"

She mirrored his shrug and tried to hide a smirk. "Of course."

"Uh huh." Thom's eyebrow rose and he stared at her incredulously. She faltered under his watchful eye and she slumped her shoulders.

"Oh fine! No, she didn't want me going but I did anyway." she admitted and stared at the snow. "She doesn't want to lose me so soon after getting me back." And she dropped her gaze to her lap guiltily.

Thom pressed closer and gave her a short squeeze with his little arms. "She just cares about you is all. You should feel lucky; I lost my own family before I could realize how much they cared."

She looked down at him then, surprised and touched, but he stared straight ahead at the open plain of white swirling around them; his face difficult to read. She followed his gaze and leaned her head against his and together they waited for their friends to return until the sun grew low in the west.

Natalia sat up straight then and shook Thom who was fast asleep against her. He stirred and rubbed his eyes slowly, then jerked away when he realized where he was. She looked at him tensely and pointed to a light in the distance.

"What is that?" he asked aloud and she shook her head unknowingly.

A blue-green glow illuminated the darkness off in the forest like a fallen star; shining with a turquoise hue. They watched it, too afraid to look away for fear it would vanish, as it grew brighter as the sun slowly fell.

"I think it's been there all along and we just couldn't see it in the daytime." Natalia predicted and managed to tear her eyes from the spectacle. She looked to Thom and excitement gleamed in her bright eyes. "This could be it, Thom! This could be our way to help, our way of giving back to the others."

Thom stood up eagerly and straightened his back in an attempt to look tall. "I'm in if you're in." She stood beside him and he motioned back to the town. "Are we getting the others or is just you and me?"

She set her jaw and steeled her gaze and Thom knew her reply before she ever said it. "This one's ours."

He nodded and gripped her hand for support and reassurance as well as to stay together in the darkness. "You and me against the world."

***

Even as they left the ancient cavern behind and departed the gulley in favor of the rising slope they now ascended, the howling wind's wail continued to grow and grow in intensity until it drowned out their voices. Using only rudimentary hand signs and pointing they motioned to stay to the right of the hill in a line, with Outsider taking the rear should Cuke fall.

Bracing themselves as they peaked the rise, they watched in nervous anticipation as the climax of the slope disintegrated slowly to the constant wind that buffeted it relentlessly. A stream of dust smoked from it like a pipe and was whisked away by the churning vortex that surrounded it.

The pair stopped and with jaws dropped beheld the spectacle that was the eternally spinning wall of air like a mountain-wide tornado that was longer across than it was tall. A solid barrier of wind passing before them like a current of water completely flush with the stone; matching the rounded shape of the mountain perfectly. The rushing torrent spun round and round endlessly with a deafening roar comparable to a thousand waterfalls exploding against the rocks below.

At least now we know why it can't just fly here.

Outsider grit his teeth against the immense noise and covered his ears within his hood. He looked to Cuke for a solution to get across and pointed to his pack questioningly. The cleric shrugged and slipped it from his shoulder to rummage through. He reached his entire arm into the little bag followed by his whole upper half then emerged with a silent cry of triumph.

In his palm sat a perfectly square stone. Outsider moved closer and stared at it. As he did, it seemed to grow minutely and flared brightly for an instant before flashing back to its original black.

He flicked his eyes up to Cuke who was already laughing then back to the stone. With a chuckle and roll of his eyes he sat the stone on the ground between them and the vortex and pulled Outsider back halfway down the slope.

"It's a Weight Stone!" the cleric hollered over the constant drone. "That's a boulder the size of a house compacted under constant magical pressure! Once I hit it," he held up another small rock, "it'll expand back to its previous size and weight that'll crush through the ground up there and block the wind!"

Outsider's dead stare relayed his doubts wordlessly and cut Cuke's smug grin in half.

"And if it doesn't work then I just use this bundle of dynamite to blow a crater we can walk through! You know, easy stuff." He came forward then and chunked the stone in his hand which magically veered for the weight stone and hit it squarely. The rock bounced off and rolled down the slope past them.

They both watched the stone eagerly and backed away slightly as they awaited its sudden and exponential growth. Outsider imagined it sprouting like a tree in all directions in the blink of an eye and took another step back.

But it sat there completely motionless for several minutes without the slightest change. Cuke scratched his balding head and approached it curiously. Outsider called out for him to stop but the dwarf couldn't hear him as he neared it.

He stared down at the rock for a moment with his hands in his pockets, and then with the toe of his boot gave it a nudge.

The weight stone exploded to a diameter at least twenty feet across with a sharp retort and blasted Cuke off his feet. The little dwarf flew back like a ragdoll and landed heavily on his back where he rolled down the slope a way before Outsider could stop his momentum.

Despite his eccentricities and unusual lifestyle for his kind, he was a dwarf nonetheless and tough as the stone they hailed from. Cuke shook his head blankly and stuttered a few words before deciding he couldn't make one out. He was pulled to his feet and wobbled unsteadily before crumpling to the side against the wall.

Outsider held him up against the wall and slapped him a few times to get his attention. He saw he wasn't severely wounded with no breaks or bleeding and decided it was just a hard knock to the head; something dwarves specialized in recovering from.

Then a loud crunch that broke through even the roar of the wind echoed from behind like a pinch of his special powder. Slowly, the elf turned his head around and saw the immense boulder tilt forward slightly then pause precariously on its edge.

"Cuke," he looked from the boulder to the dwarf and back to the boulder. "I hate you."

Then the stone rolled forward completely and barreled down the slope straight for them with a cacophony of small explosions of sound.

***

Thom led Natalia through the woods as quickly as they could manage in the current weather and knee-deep in snow. His darkvision was nowhere near that of a dark elf's as they were born in darkness, and weaker than a dwarf's who spend most of their lives in dark caves and mines, but twice as good as a human's. Using this, he pulled her along as best he could with great care to avoid low hanging branches he might simply walk under but leave her to hit.

She kept up valiantly with her longer strides but more than a few times tripped over a root or thicket of thorns she hadn't seen. Picking herself up stoically and finding Thom's warm hand in the dark, she hurried him on and followed without complaint.

The pair made good time considering the conditions as they followed a straight line to the bright light thanks to the impervious darkness of a northern winter night and soon crested a hill that gave them a clear view of their destination.

A great wall of rock like a small mountain stood before them just on the other side of another league of forest. It was mostly devoid of snow near the base where it was narrowest and they soon realized it was bowl shaped with the top extending out much further in a circular structure. Daunting as it was, Thom was determined to repay his debt to the brave elf who had saved him.

"I'm still in if you are, Natalia." he told her and his voice sounded sure and unwavering; something of a revelation to the jittery hobbit. She looked down at him in the dark and gripped his hand tighter.

They slid down the hill easily on the ice and got to their feet running without losing their momentum. They charged through the last copse of trees and brush, panting and winded but forced their legs to carry them further. When one fell the other helped them up with words of encouragement; thoughts of the looks they would see on Outsider and Cuke's faces when they showed up to help driving them.

An hour later, the league was behind them and the mountainous bowl looming overhead. Thom's nimble mind searched the rocky face for a path of handholds to take to the top while Natalia walked around a wide area of the mountain's circumference. He leapt up and grabbed a shrub jutting from the cliff with both hands and pulled himself up.

Hooking a short leg around the branch he hauled himself up and steadied the swaying of the shrub by latching onto the rock. Shakily, he stood, expecting the branch to snap at any second, until he was fully stretched out and able to reach a small ledge. He gripped it with his fingers and scrambled up the side with his feet running against the rock quickly until he managed to sit on it.

He peered down and shuddered at being possibly nine feet off the ground. He held his breath and leaned against the wall. He'd always been quick enough to climb and did so when necessary for an escape, but he'd never had a head for heights and soon felt the nausea rising in his throat.

With a groan he retched over the side and shuddered as he heard the splashing a second later. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and spat a few times then noticed Natalia standing off to the side.

He froze and thanked the heavens it was too dark for him to see his face. "Been there long?" he blurted a moment later then blushed as she shook with laughter. "What's so funny?" he demanded and crossed his stubby arms.

"I found a tunnel nearby," she smirked and nodded her head in the direction of her find. "Thought we should just take it instead."

Thom's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms tighter about himself.

"Okay I'm sorry, just hurry and get down here!" she called and stuck her bottom lip out in a tantalizing pout. He remained stationary and didn't budge an inch. "Please Thom, I apologize!"

Thom shuddered again and hung his head. "I can't get down."

Several tense minutes later and they were within the tunnel. Thom led her along in the darkness as before only this time they moved slower and more cautious. They had yet to hear or see any sign of life but nonetheless they would remain prepared.

A steady hum vibrated the floor and the walls thrummed with energy. Natalia placed her hand against it to steady herself over a small drop and could feel it shaking minutely. Alarmed, she looked to the hobbit.

"What do you think it is?"

He shrugged. "Dunno, but I'd bet my last cent whatever's making that light is also making that noise."

With a loud gulp, she ducked low over a small overhang and they delved deeper into the mountain until the hum was loud enough to rattle their teeth in their skulls. Thom's feet shook against the stony ground and Natalia likewise trembled. She gripped his hand tighter and he squeezed back supportively.

"Careful, there're some slippery rocks here." he warned and stepped his way around them. But Natalia had no darkvision and a moment later tripped and fell over them. Thom fell with her and crawled around on his hands and knees. "Are you alright?"

Her face froze and she sat stock-still with her arms beneath her.

Thom looked her over quickly and held her shoulders calling to her. She shook her head and gestured to the ground around her. "They're not rocks, Thom." She held up her hand and dropped it back down. "They're not rocks."

He leaned down and looked closer at them then recoiled. "They're bones!" he cried and pulled her out of them. He could feel her shivering against him and held her close, his head tucked against her side. He looked back at the pile of remains and something caught his eye.

He walked back over to get it and Natalia held fast to his hand. "What are you doing?" He slipped his hand free and patted the air to calm her then stooped low amid the bones and pulled the item free with a groan.

He turned back to her and smiled.

***

Outsider dropped Cuke and let the semi-conscious dwarf roll as the boulder closed in. He leapt back as it barreled past him and covered his ears as it struck the cave below with an earth-shattering boom that shook the ground. He turned his head and saw Cuke still rolling down the slope and ran over to catch him.

The cleric's eyes spun around unfocused and his tongue hung out the side of his mouth. Outsider slapped him across the face and his attention snapped to him immediately.

"Ow." he murmured slowly and rubbed his cheek before standing. He wavered a moment then took a swig of his liquid courage and felt right as rain. "So uh, I guess the stone didn't work huh?"

Outsider stared at him levelly as another crash echoed from within the cavern. "No."

Cuke clapped his hands together and shrugged. "Oh well, not to worry. I've got a few more tricks up my sleeves." He reached into his pack again and removed a stick of already lit dynamite. "We'll just blast our way through!"

"Are you sure about this?" Outsider pointed to the mountain shelf that hung above the vortex off to the side. "I think this area before us is attached to another mountain that has a lot of snow built up on it! If that thing explodes too loudly it could cause an avalanche."

Cuke shook his head and waved his words away. "I said no worries didn't I? This is ever-burning-silent-dynamite. Erupts on impact without a sound; watch!"

He reared back to throw the stick when Outsider caught his wrist. "Perhaps I should throw it." The cleric's face fell but he passed it on to the hunter regardless. Noticing the fuse was already burnt half away, Outsider hurled it to the peak of the slope just before the vortex.

A moment later a wall of hot air and choking dust covered them and threw back his hood with the force. Cuke coughed and looked over to see Outsider, white hair thrown wild and covered in dirt, staring at him.

"What?" The dwarf held his arms out to either side obliviously. "It worked didn't it?"

They turned to see a new gap in the lip of the slope about five feet deep and four across, with spiderweb cracks spreading from it and singe marks. The spinning wind, judging by the fact it was no longer clear what with the rock and snow within it, was visible and appeared to jump the gap for the most part.

"It's spinning too fast to really branch off and get down in the new dip, so it should be no problem!" Cuke hollered over the roar as they neared it. "But you go first just in case!"

Outsider crouched to slide into the new gap. "Why me? This was your idea!"

"Because you're bigger!" The two stared at each other a moment until Cuke blinked and ushered him on excitedly.

"Whatever." Then the hunter slipped into the gap and lay flat as the tremendously powerful hurricane winds tore at him and his cloak. The immense roar of the churning air pounded on his eardrums until he was sure he was deaf, as he oh so very carefully maneuvered beneath the wall of airborne debris. He paused fearfully. "You know, if Cancer has his victims come this way there has to be a secret way through somewhere."

Cuke laughed haughtily. "Why Outsider, are you afraid? You know we don't have time to scour the area!"

Outsider cursed and continued. He cringed at the thought of being mere inches away from such power, knowing one false move could send him flying into the vortex to be disintegrated slowly. Shivering, he crawled out and inspected the area on the other side before dropping down to a ledge. Several minutes later Cuke made his way down and they shared a nod.

"What is this place?" the cleric asked as he looked around bewildered.

Before them was one of the most beautiful scenes they had ever laid eyes on. Small trees and tropical fauna littered the landscape and dotted the small hills with berry-bearing shrubs. Tall grass and white sand covered the ground and they realized from how high they were in comparison, that the mountain they were in was a bowl shape; an upside down dome, in which they were near the wide top.

As amazing as the land was, it was the small lake that lay cool and glassy in the center of the area with a surrounding beach on all sides that truly captivated. The surface was crystal clear and flat as if frozen, with the most vibrant turquoise that shone so purely it actually glowed.

The cleric and hunter shared an astounded glance at one another then turned back to the enigmatic scene. Outsider pulled his hood back and smelled the fresh air and smiled faintly as the scent of life filled his nostrils.

"That vortex must keep away the snow and cold while the spring bubbles up into the lake and keeps everything green." Outsider pondered and stroked his chin. He turned to the likewise questioning Cuke and nudged him. "I know I'm typically the one with wildlife knowledge, but would you happen to know how the lake is glowing like that?"

Cuke frowned and closed his eyes, muttering a spell, with both hands out and facing the lake. His lips stopped then and he nodded as if listening intently for nearly five minutes when he snapped open his eyes and a curious light sparkled in them.

"What?" Outsider asked as the cleric simply stared at him.

"It's not natural I can tell you that." He scratched his head. "And it's some ancient magic with numerous properties; too many to know or tell."

"Is it responsible for the vortex as well?"

Cuke nodded and looked about the area. "Honestly I think I've read about this place before.." He scratched his head a bit more in thought then snapped his fingers. "Yes, yes how foolish of me, of course!" He reached into his pack and removed an old, weathered tome a moment later. "I brought all my most important books with me you know." he said as if common knowledge and practice.

"Here it is," he said as he flipped open to a page in a scrawly written language. "The Tempest Bowl as it is known to most, is and has been for generations, a superb mystery. Many have studied the emanations of magic that ripple through its stone and have tried to replicate the glowing waters or endless hurricane, but none have succeeded...the most common theory is it was created by a god to be either a stronghold or prison for something or someone, to protect those within or those outside."

He slammed the book shut and Outsider flinched at the sound as he was yanked from his reverie.

"Whatever it is, it's quite the sight to behold." Outsider whispered and motioned to move on. "I think we're getting close." he said as they floated down the basin together under Cuke's last levitation scroll.

"Why's that?"

"Because I can sense something darker than anything I've felt since Duskenbaijan."
Chapter Thirty Six: Cancer

The pair walked quickly along the beach with Outsider taking care to move silently with his padded boots and sure stride, and Cuke with a muffling spell. Together they passed through brush and beneath trees that just thrived with life. The grass was soft underfoot and bent easily beneath them just to spring back up and the white sands shifted like chalky dust without the slightest grainy crunch.

The smell of freshwater and loamy soil hung pleasantly in the air with the lack of breeze and the temperature was surprisingly well balanced by the freezing winter rock and hot spring.

Despite this, Outsider remained cautious. All dark elves were born with an attunement to dark magics as well as evil specters; with demons being at the forefront due to their somewhat common presence in the Shadowverse when called for communion. Even as a half-dark elf he could feel a tingling in the back of his mind that warned him of such a danger.

And it was going haywire right then.

They came free of the small copse of woods between the wall they had descended from and the lake, and now faced the warm water. Steam rose gently from it like a calm fog that remained near stationary in the lack of wind and the unearthly glow hummed with a slight ringing.

Outsider crouched low and scanned the area. Around the lake and among the beach were the largest clearings and most dangerous areas to be, he believed as he imagined he was hunting. He could picture someone hiding in the tall grass or in a tree just waiting for someone to leave the enclosure of the forest to the in-plain-sight-without-cover middle.

He cringed and felt eyes boring into him from somewhere. He turned just in time to see Cuke bend down and reach for the water. "Cuke no!" His hand dipped below the surface and a single ripple cascaded across the glassy lake. They both froze as the water's surface flexed and bowed as if bent near the center until it reached up toward the sky like half a sphere.

"What did you do?" Outsider whispered through grit teeth as the cleric backed away beside him.

"I just wanted to try some is all," he muttered and his voice wavered. "I checked it first and the water wasn't evil or nothing. I thought I—"

The water trembled and shook as it rose more and more until a dark figure within the depths burst from within with a tremendous fountain of water exploding behind it. The figure rose higher and higher as the hot water rained down and splashed across the beach with a torrential force that flooded the grassland.

Outsider leapt up and into a tree meanwhile Cuke latched on to the base just as the water swamped the ground beneath them. The tree swayed against the hit but stood fast as the water washed over. Cuke didn't even have to hang on as the pressure of the tide alone kept him squeezed against the rough bark.

Outsider climbed higher in the tree until he was at the top among the thinnest branches and scanned the dark sky for whatever had charged through the lake. As he did he noticed the vortex was more than that and actually completed the upper half of the bowl; creating a full sphere.

"I know cages," he told himself and dropped to the ground with a splash. "And this is a big one."

Cuke followed him as they made their way back to the lake across the soggy ground. Warm water squished up from the spongy grass and sand with every step before being reabsorbed.

"You think that was it?" Cuke asked and wiped the water from his face.

"I hope so." Outsider replied as they neared the bank. "I'd hate to come up against this demon you identified as well as something else that powerful."

They peered down at the water's edge and into the glowing abyss of the lake. Beneath the churning waves and frantic tide were dozens of dark figures within the water, all of them at the bottom and stationary. Outsider looked closer and couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"That can't be.." His gray eyes grew wide and his dark skin paled.

Cuke turned to him and pointed with his thumb to the water. "What are they?"

Outsider tried to keep the fear from his voice but found this to be a startling discovery that evaded his experience by a landslide. "I think we're in way over our heads." he decided grimly and a line creased between his eyes. "I think those are the townsfolk from Journ."

The dwarven cleric similarly waned and did a doubletake. He wiped his face again and paced about in a circle debating with himself. Outsider continued scanning the area and deciding if they shouldn't just attempt to sneak away.

"Of course!" Cuke exclaimed and the elf jumped at the sudden noise. "He needs them alive!" He looked at Outsider as if that explained everything and nodded to himself with hands on his hips; oblivious to the incredulous mask on his friend's dark face.

"Why?" the elf asked at long last when he saw an explanation wasn't forthcoming. "Why does he need them alive?"

"To feed of course." Cuke shrugged and laughed as a plan began to formulate in his mind. "He draws power from suffering, so he puts them in some sort of stasis down there where no one can get to them, while giving them illusions of their worst regrets and memories like some sort of pain farm."

The cleric nodded and tapped his chest where the silver anvil hung. "Quite ingenious really."

"Whatever it is, we're putting a stop to it." Outsider challenged and drew Darkbane. "Are you any good at swimming?"

"Well no, I'm a dwarf." Cuke admitted with a halfhearted chuckle. "But I've got a spell that'll let me swim faster than I can run and breathe water." He cast the necessary spells and laid his extra equipment nearby. "What're you going to do?"

In answer, a great roar split the quiet and the dark figure appeared in the sky, great black wings flapping to keep it aloft. It cried out again in a furious bellow and a chain of fire flared to life in each hand. It snapped the vicious weapons with cracks like lightning and came forward swiftly on the wind.

"Distraction I assume." Outsider replied with a nonchalant shrug and Cuke nodded. They stood there a moment in silence when the cleric clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well good luck." Then the dwarf hopped into the lake and promptly sank with a splash.

Outsider spun around and leapt out of the way as a bright orange light built around him just before the chains collided with a loud sizzle. Steam clouded the area and the elf melted into it and disappeared.

The demon landed heavily and turned its great head this way and that. With an agitated cry it blew the fog away with its bat-like wings. Its flaming chains lashed out here and there in anger and shattered trees in showers of wood pieces. The chains extinguished from existence and the orange light vanished mostly.

Outsider watched the demon curiously from his perch atop a tree many yards away. It was at least twelve feet tall and five wide. Its face resembled a cross between a skull, a dragon, and a man, with a long snout that descended low to a more humanoid jaw covered in scars, adorned with black horns that curved from the top of its head to the sides of the jaw where they jutted out to each side. Crimson flesh rippled with solid muscle that corded and bunched along its great arms and across its bare chest. The only armor upon it was a pair of greaves crafted from ribcages with shattered femurs set into them like spikes, and a leather loincloth embellished with dangling skulls.

Pure white eyes roamed side to side among that hellish face but he noted it had to turn its head to see to the sides.

No peripheral vision with those horns.

He watched the demon stomp around a bit then fold its wings up behind it like an eagle descending in a dive. Its fiery maw cracked open then and a deep, gravelly voice like rocks rubbing together came forth; bringing thoughts of Cleave Rend to mind.

"Come and face your doom, challenger if you are so brave. I, Cancer, the mighty demon of the Eighth Pillar of the Pit just might spare you in favor of servitude." Cancer boasted with a toss of its head and closed it eyes. "You have nowhere to run...Outsider, is it?" Those pale eyes opened once more. "I can sense your inner turmoil, half-blood. Every second of pain and hour of suffering you have ever weathered in your life is at my fingertips."

It sucked its fingers then like one would when eating something greasy. "Ah! And yours are delicious! How much pain you have been through, Outsider the Unliving; how many trials. A demon finds someone like you only once in a thousand years." He inhaled deeply and spun his head around in the elf's general direction. "So you're a close friend of my latest catch? The accursed Merlon Axebringer of Journ; the dwarf who crafts those filthy silver totems!" he spat.

"Oh I took good care of that one, I did, real good." he laughed viciously and slapped his knees. "You should have seen the way he cowered in fear at the sound of that mine collapse! Course it was really just a few trees exploding, but that was exactly the way the fool always remembered it." He howled louder then and doubled over. "And his face when his daughter showed up? Classic!"

Outsider scowled at the vile demon as it chortled. Steadily it freed itself of the giggling and wiped a tear from its pale eye. "Alright then," It clapped its clawed hands with a boom and rubbed them together like scraping stones. "Let's see what we can do." Cancer closed its eyes again and wrapped its wings about itself.

Outsider made his move. He leapt from treetop to treetop easily then swung down from a high branch to a lower one in a different tree until he landed with a roll and took off without slowing. Darkbane drawn and glowing he charged the creature before him.

He ran up one wing and jumped up near its shoulder then stabbed into it and slid down with the dagger cutting a deep tear through the thin membrane. Cancer howled and batted him away with a sudden backhand that sent him reeling.

Outsider rolled backwards to his feet just before a foot slammed down where he had been. His eyes widened in shock at the force of the stomp as it shook the ground and created a short blast of air that blew back his hood. He ducked behind a tree which took a felling blow then weaved through the forest as trunks were shattered on either side of him in terrifying explosions of splinters and debris that pelted him repeatedly.

He ran faster and faster, could almost feel the heat from the flames that spontaneously shot up the demon's length in sudden flares, could hear the impact of the wind as trees were smashed apart. Fear coursed through his veins and his heart pounded in his chest, but the adrenaline gave him speed and the clarity he needed to keep direction.

As far to the basin as he could go, he sprinted up the edge of the rocky slope and curved to the side without stopping to see if his ploy had worked or not. He continued running back the direction he had came when he heard the crash and grunt as the demon, too big and heavy for such quick maneuvers, ran into the rock wall at full speed.

He crouched low in the woods then within a tall patch of thistles and reeds. Hood up and cloak about him for camouflage, he watched as Cuke resurfaced now and again with a body bobbing up beside him.

At least one of us is making some progress.

A bright orange glow flared then and Outsider shouted in surprise as the flame whip bit through his leather armor and along his ribs. He floundered to the side as the tall grass caught fire then realized his cloak was alight as well. With a flick and twist he sent the flaming cloak up and over his head and tossed it over the demon's face.

Cancer roared as Outsider slashed away at its wings with Darkbane's enchanted edge cutting deeply and tearing them to ribbons. Hot blood spilled down his arms and he grimaced at the dark color demons apparently spilled.

Cancer tore at the cloak but the material caught on his horns and he pulled his whole head to the side. With a growl of frustration he took a deep breath, his twelve foot frame bowing backwards, then with a great exhale blew flames from his throat that incinerated the cloak to ash.

By then his wings were beyond flying and pained him terribly so he leapt away with a powerful bound that cleared treetops. Outsider likewise took a moment to inspect the burnt gash along his ribs.

"Damn!" he cursed as he tugged the burnt cloth free from the wound. He saw it was mostly a flesh wound and hadn't cut very deep. Looking around quickly he pulled up a handful of grass and mashed it against his burn.

A high pitched whistling caught his attention.

Cuke!

He sprinted out of the woods and saw the demon making way toward the cleric who was busy loading the incapacitated citizens onto the shore. Outsider flicked Darkbane into his fingers and with a spin, tossed it end over end where it sank into the demon's shoulder near the base of its right wing.

Cancer wailed and arched its back in agony as he reached out for the blade. Its bulky frame was powerful and strong but not nearly as flexible as an elf. Outsider came up on it then and leapt onto its back. It swiped at him with long claws, even scoring a hit on his forearm that grazed past the side of his greave and cut, but couldn't reach him either.

A flaming chain lashed out at him but swung low and struck demon flesh.

Outsider gripped the dagger and twisted it violently, jerking it side to side and back and forth; opening the wound. More crimson bubbled and spurted onto him until his hands and front were soaked in it. He spat some of the demonic blood that had gotten in his mouth and wiped it from his eye.

Sufficiently torn, he jerked the blade free from the wound and gripped one of the wings to stay on as Cancer tossed and turned in an attempt to throw him off. It leapt high into the air then plummeted back down with a jarring landing that nearly buckled him.

"You little rat!" It screamed and leapt again with an impact so hard he slipped and stabbed out again to catch himself. Darkbane buried itself just above the waist and he clung to it. He scrambled back up near the shoulders as another claw raked down his leg with enough pull to nearly throw him to the ground.

Outsider cursed and knew his leg was injured by the way it hung heavily. With a snarl he gripped the demon's wounded right wing and viciously hacked it off at the base. Darkbane cut through bone cleanly and the wing fell to the ground pulsing blood amid Cancer's growls.

The demon leapt high then and into the lake.

Outsider clung on still and kept his eyes open. He pulled himself down to the creature's back and began sawing away at its remaining wing. Cancer spun in a barrel roll that caught him off guard and kicked the elf away.

Stunned, Outsider floated back up to the surface knowing the damage was done by the color of the now inky water. Hurriedly he swam for the shore, much faster than before with his cloak and equipment gone, and hauled himself up.

Cuke ran to him gasping and equally soaked. "Are you alright? That thing's a monster!"

Outsider shook his head too out of breath to speak and pointed to his leg. The cleric took a look and inhaled sharply. They locked eyes and the hunter nodded for him to tell him the bad news.

"He's severed your femoral artery," he said slowly and the world around them seemed to grow quiet. "I would need much more time than we have to heal that."

Outsider nodded and looked to the others. Numerous humans and dwarves alike were strewn about the shore nearby, all soaking wet and pale with eyes closed and faces blank. "What about them?"

"They're fine for now, they're all in stasis so they don't need to breathe, drink or eat." Cuke replied and sat down heavily. "Thank Reiin it's a small town!"

Outsider scanned the group and saw a salt-n-pepper bearded dwarf among them. "How about Merlon?"

Cuke shrugged. "Same as the others far as I can tell."

Outsider nodded again and his arm slipped out from beneath him as leaned back. He lay there and closed his eyes against the nausea. "Tell everything to stop spinning." he mumbled and his head lolled about limply.

Cuke rushed to him and crouched over his body. He reached into his pockets and removed a few vials. Pouring them one by one into Outsider's mouth and ensuring he swallowed it, as well as one to his leg. Then he slapped his face repeatedly until the elf's gray eyes fluttered open.

"What...what happened?" he croaked and remained still as his head swam dizzyingly. His arms and legs felt like jelly and he didn't trust himself to stand. A dull weight in his head and stomach throbbed with his heartbeat.

"I've given you a few potions; a coagulant to keep you from bleeding to death, a rejuvenating serum to keep you going, and an anesthetic even though you can't feel anything. They...they won't save you from this," he motioned his right pant leg which was completely stained red. "But it will keep you up a little longer as they regenerate the blood you lose."

"That's all I need." Outsider replied calmly. Everything was so slow moving and washed out it didn't seem real anyway.

Cuke stood and dusted himself off. "Hopefully long enough to get back so Bryn and I can get you patched up and..." His voice broke and he gulped down another vial of liquid courage. He looked up at Outsider and the elf couldn't help but match his grimace. The dwarf looked around and cleared his throat noisily. "Well let's get going before it comes back up."

"Cuke!" a voice called from across the way. The dwarf looked up curiously and was rocked back on his heels when Thom and Natalia ran toward them from the woods.

Outsider stood up unsteadily and grimaced as he felt the weight behind his every movement; a delay from thought to action. He laughed dryly at the thought of dying painlessly in battle; something he wouldn't have thought possible.

"Thom and Natalia are here!" Cuke exclaimed and Outsider turned to look curiously. "Why the devil they are I don't know, but I'm glad they are. They can help me get these people out."

Outsider swayed again and leaned against Cuke momentarily and whispered, "Don't tell them about me...that I'm going to die or anything, alright?"

They stared at each other a long silent moment until the dwarf nodded and they shook hands firmly. "I'm going to miss you, Outsider." Cuke said briskly and sniffed. "Just do what you can and I'll match it."

"Yeah, it was good knowing you." Outsider replied distantly and pushed himself off of Cuke's shoulder to stand unassisted. The hobbit and woman appeared then and hugged both of them.

"Are you alright?" Thom asked them both all grins. His eyes widened as he saw the blood soaked clothing upon Outsider and his grin fell.

"Are they safe?" Natalia followed.

"They're fine, and we're alright for the most part." Cuke replied, a half-truth if Outsider ever heard one. "We just need to get them out, so I have an idea that will require the both of you now that you're here."

"What about you?" Thom asked Outsider then looked up and down at his tattered appearance. A line creased his little face between his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Outsider nodded and made sure his hood was low. "I've just got to make sure the demon stays back." he whispered and realized how little he could speak.

"Oh!" Thom removed a wooden bow from his back and two arrows then handed them over. "I found these in the tunnel we took here, thought you could use them." Outsider accepted them with a curt nod then walked off into the forest; too weak to keep up the pretense of being okay.

Natalia watched him go, wide eyed and pale, for she could see the pain in his eyes even if he couldn't feel it. She turned back to the others only after her name had been called a few times and then nodded as if she had been listening the whole time.

"There's forty two of them so we need three carts, one for each of us." He reached into his enchanted pack and dumped out a pile of materials bigger than he was. "Luckily, I have wheels and axles here from the last time I tried to make...well, never mind; we just need to lay out the planks." He pointed off to the woods surrounding the beach. "That brute shattered plenty of trees for us to gather the wood together and roll these folks out of here. Alright?"

Thom and Natalia nodded and set to work immediately; following the cleric from tree to tree and dragging lengths of wood back for him to shape with his magic.

Outsider leaned heavily against a tree and watched the trio working diligently to gather long chunks of wood then lay them out in rectangles. It all seemed so strange to him then, like he was watching a group of ants try to carry a leaf together. He closed his eyes for just a moment with a yawn and eased into sleep.

A song, a simple melody really, that rose and fell like the wind entered his mind. Naturally, without even thinking, his movements matched the tempo in perfect harmony. It came on so suddenly, even growing in intensity like a crescendo, until it was all he could hear.

He opened his eyes with a start and looked around slowly.

He saw the carts already completed and half of the people loaded onto them; his friends loading them tirelessly. He rubbed his eyes weakly and wondered how long he had been out as he stood shakily. His wounds were bleeding much slower now until they were for the most part crusted over and congealed. He looked about for the music and turned deeper into the forest; confident his friends were safe.

His footfalls splashing across the drenched grounds were silent and his breathing as well. Only the notes; those pure notes, remained. He watched the forest pass by slowly yet still in a blur. His eyes wouldn't focus. He tried to keep moving, tried to keep pushing himself to take one more step. But they were hard and only grew more difficult; like wading deeper and deeper into thick mud.

He tried so hard not to let it into his thoughts. Not to let her into his thoughts.

But she crept her way in and his limbs slowed against his will just as the song did.

He came to a gradual halt then froze in place as the song continued on quietly and slow; an exact replica of when she had died in his arms. The trees swayed in and out of color and lightheadedness overcame him. He dropped to his knees, gripping the grass in his fingers, gritting his teeth with eyes squeezed shut and sweat pouring down his face and neck. He felt so hot and cold at the same time but knew he couldn't be.

He tried to crawl forward, Darkbane still clutched tightly in his hand. He moved forward one hand then knee at a time. He looked up to gauge his distance to the source of music when he came face to face with Saleane.

His heart skipped a beat in his chest and stuttered; sending cold shocks up his arm and neck. He stopped and fell back to a sitting position on his knees with his feet tucked beneath him. His eyes welled with tears and beheld her once more.

This isn't so bad, he thought. To die seeing the one I love.

He relaxed and smiled as tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks. This was what he wanted, to be with her no matter how or why, and if dying was what it took then he would do so a thousand times.

She smiled back at him and nodded as if she could read his thoughts.

I just want to stay here, with you, forever.

"You can." she called and slowly walked closer.

Her beautiful face, with those angular features just softened enough to be feminine, with full lips and a sharp, pixie-like nose. Her long white mane blew in the breeze nothing else could feel and trailed along behind her. He marveled at her flawless obsidian skin and the deep navy eyes he could become so lost in without a care in the world. So often he had done just that to escape his Hell and even now wished he could.

"You can." she told him in her melodic voice that fit her still playing song perfectly.

She moved closer and crouched before him. He stared into her eyes and could feel all his pain and worries drifting away. Those glorious orbs of pure hues unmatched he had watched for years growing up. He began to let go and accept death fully; its cold embrace settling upon him. He shivered and thought of how warm she was. How he wanted to reach out and feel her.

"You can." she whispered to him and the song continued.

He reached out for her and she took his hand in hers then held it to her face. He felt the smooth skin of her cheek and just below her eye like velvet. He brushed his finger down her sloping jaw line to her chin where he tenderly traced her soft, warm lips. He hesitated there and smiled again as he remembered her kiss. Then he followed the other side back up to her ear, within her thick, wavy hair, and slid his hand to her long, smooth neck.

He leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. Her sweet breath washed over his face and made him dizzy. Her natural earthy scent filled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply as his soul began to let go. There was a gentle tug in him beckoning him to leave the pain and suffering behind and come with away with her. Saleane's song continued in the confines of his mind, filling their solace together, and he felt himself nodding along to it. He could feel her warm skin beneath his hand and he rested his hand just above her collar bone against her throat.

He remembered always wondering how not only her voice and scent could match her song but her heartbeat as well. He felt for it with his trembling fingers before he would let the cold settle in.

Just this last thing and I'll be on my way, Saleane. He felt a little higher then lower and still her heartbeat, the beat of the song itself, was missing.

The music in his head faltered and skipped a note.

Her hand lifted his face and her eyes were wide. "Calm down, it's just you and me here, no one can hurt you." He relaxed again and once more felt the incessant tug of death calling him. She pulled his face close. "Kiss me Outsider, please."

His hand on her neck stopped and rested against the smooth length of her throat while the other held her hand against his face. They remained just like that as she brought his face closer and closer to hers until her breath and warmth were all he knew. Quietly she whispered his name.

Then both hands clamped down.

She gasped and recoiled as he pulled her hand from his face and choked her. He pressed on her throat with both hands then and forced her to the ground. Her navy eyes grew wide and full of fear; something that would hurt him more than anything else. But he pressed on nonetheless for he knew this was not his Saleane but a fake conjured by Sin.

The song fluttered in and out then with breaks of sound between. The world rushed in around him with color fading and restoring.

He pressed on her fully until she gasped out his name again. "Out..sider...Outsider...why?" she cried and tears streamed down her face. He crushed harder then with his upper half fully supported on her neck.

"She never called me that." And he slammed Darkbane into her chest with an explosion of sound.

He took a deep gasping breath and lurched to his hands and knees from the wet ground. He rolled over and vomited then coughed repeatedly with a raw throat. His eyes seared and streamed tears as he rubbed at them.

His heart pounded hard but not fast in his chest and his mind felt slow and dragging. His brain raced to catch up with all he had seen, felt, smelled, heard. He felt his chest and when no heartbeat came he gripped his neck, then remembered the numbing poison and dropped his hand.

Slowly he looked up from where he lay and saw Cancer several yards away clutching his throat and kicking out wildly; still within some mental trance.

Outsider turned away and struggled with each step to keep his feet under him. Despite the defeat of the demon's mind tricks he found the world still out of focus and spinning wildly on an invisible axis; a black and white washout of it remained instead. He could hear his every breath and heartbeat pounding in his ears so loud he was sure the others could hear it too.

He stumbled out of the treeline and fell to all four. He swung his head around and saw the others already gone; all the people of Journ with them. He smiled and nodded, truly content they were safe, and glad he had fulfilled his promise to Merlon.

Then a loud crunch filled his ears and the ground disappeared beneath him. He hit and rolled several feet with the wind knocked from him and the bow lying nearby. He slipped Darkbane from its sheath and then stared in shock as his hand fell from his wrist; a flash of the flame chain passing through.

He rolled onto his back and managed to sit up with the bow in his remaining hand. He looked back and stared at the gloved hand he knew to be his lying there on the ground and spurting blood. His wrist did likewise and he watched it in stunned amazement.

Last of all he looked up at Cancer who towered over him with a devious smile painted on his gruesome face despite the blood running down his chest. He stooped low and lifted Outsider with one arm by the throat. He brought him in close and the odor of rotted meat assaulted the elf's senses. "I'm gonna make you pay Outsider. Make you regret taking my wings! You are an ant to me! Miniscule, insignificant, measly, tiny, nothing! You think you know pain but I'm going to prove you wrong and kill you in the most gruesome ways I know.

"But you're gonna feel it first; no quick death for you, oh no." His pale eyes narrowed and bored into the gray ones opposite him. "What better pain for you to feel than watching your friends die knowing you sacrificed everything to save them?" He looked around then spied a nearby tree; the tallest in the basin.

"But just to make sure you get a good view and don't try to run off anywhere.." He leapt up and latched onto the tree which caused it to sway and bend. Then climbing near the top, he reached up and snapped a branch off near the trunk until it was a foot long.

Then slammed Outsider down on it; impaling him.

He felt his head fling back and an odd weight near his middle as he hit the tree. He looked down and saw the gore-smeared branch piercing his lower middle and couldn't breathe.

His mouth tried to form the words to say but his lips only twitched and his jaw shook. Blankly he stared in silent horror as Cancer leaned close and spoke to him though he couldn't hear over the rushing sound in his ears. The demon sneered and dropped to the ground; shaking the tree.

Outsider slowly looked side to side and waited for the darkness to close around him. He knew his adrenaline would be pumping as well as the potions Cuke had given him, but he'd honestly expected to have died by now.

He laid his head back against the tree and focused on the snowy mountain before him. He longed to be back in the northern wilds one last time before he departed. He could imagine the sweet smell of pine and the cold, snow-carrying gales he had lived within after escaping the darkness; the darkness he would soon be returning to.

A loud crash brought him back to reality and he saw the great demon smashing his way to the small group. He leaned forward as best he could and saw his friends, laden and slowed down with the carts of unconscious citizens. He could see Cuke hurrying Thom and Natalia on and taking up the rear to throw a couple of spells Cancer's way as they ran.

Outsider tried to move forward but remained stuck, fully impaled on the tree limb. He looked down at his broken torso and tried to wriggle free but his legs wouldn't move. He twisted and turned but couldn't push himself free and only succeeded in spilling more blood down himself and opening his tunic. His eyes flicked to the pouch tied on his belt and he managed to untie it after struggling to use his fingers for such small movements.

He glanced down and saw the demon closing in on them.

He looked around for a way to pull himself free and noticed a light colored branch with a curve. He reached out for it and it fell away into his hand with little effort. He looked at it then and realized it was actually the bow Thom had given him. He held it close and pulled free one of the two arrows set in the side of the bow's frame.

He knocked the arrow to the string and strapped each half of the pouch to the arrowheads just in case.

***

"Keep moving, just go on, get!" Cuke hollered and dropped another glyph of warding he had made on the ground behind them. Thom and Natalia pulled the carts along and ran forward as quickly as they could go with sweat pouring down their faces.

The carts bumped along across the ground as they swerved around trees and patches of shrubbery then through tall grass; the occupants noticing none of it. The forest blurred past as they went straight for the tunnel they had found. Thom groaned loudly as stitches pained his sides and his mouth grew parched.

He looked over to Natalia and they shared a concerned glance that spoke volumes. Both knew if that giant demon caught up to them there would be no saving them from a horrible death as well as the pain of watching each other die. Thom watched her go and willed her to move faster; content as long as she survived.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Cuke right behind him with grim determination stamped on his brow.

He turned back around and tripped, sprawling out on the ground. He tried to scramble to his feet when Cuke lifted him up and helped him push the cart until his momentum was built, then returned to his own and resumed running.

The cleric heard an explosion then a loud roar and cracked a grin as he knew his glyph had been effective. They rose up the side of a hill and he paused to look back as the others continued toward the rocky shelf. He placed his hand over his eyes to block out the glow from the lake and squinted into the semi-darkness.

Flames erupted up the side of two trees as coiling chains of fire ignited. They spun out overhead then lashed out at the dwarf on the hill only to stop short against his protective circle. The cleric placed his hands high in the air and called out to Reiin in prayer before punching out with a fistful of divine energy.

The light struck Cancer in the face and blinded him on contact. The demon roared again in outrage and struck out at random with the whips; shattering trees and sending their remains flying. One of the whips struck a wagon and split the wheel apart from the body.

Cuke stumbled as his wagon tipped over and he cursed loudly. Natalia and Thom turned to help him but he waved them on. "Keep going, I'll meet you there!" He rushed to and fro to lay the unconscious people back onto the cart then looked up at the raging demon not so far away.

Reluctantly the two continued until they were at the tunnel's mouth and disappeared into the low ceilinged passage with their carts bumping along behind them. Cuke pulled back his sleeves and charged up a spell. He tilted his cart back up and held onto it as he released the energy.

He and the cart both walked off the hill but didn't descend at all; instead walking and rolling across the air. Cuke and his cart rushed along faster than he could run and made the tunnel just as Cancer's vision returned.

The demon barreled forward and slammed into the rock face with his whips striking out at the tunnel repeatedly; leaving scorch marks that sizzled the stone and missed the dwarf's back by inches.

"You won't escape me so easily, you insignificant little runts!" he vowed and extinguished his whips. He sucked in a deep lungful of air and grinned wickedly as the heat gradually rose in his chest and built up pressure until smoke seeped from his nostrils.

Cuke caught up with Natalia and Thom and gave them a reassuring nod. "Looks like we made it." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. He took a minute to pause and catch his breath with hands on his knees; shaking away the painful thoughts he knew would try to overpower him.

Thom and Natalia looked at him then and he knew what they were about to ask. He held up his hand to stop them and nodded knowingly. Their eyes lowered to the dark stone and filled with tears.

Natalia dropped to the ground and wept with her knees drawn up to her chest. With great sobs that racked her whole body she cried for the loss of Outsider who died to save them all. Thom crouched beside her and held her with tears of his own streaming down his face.

Cuke wiped his eyes on his sleeve and cleared his throat. "We need to keep moving, Cancer isn't going to just sit by and--" An explosion of sound shook above them and dust trickled down from the ceiling above them. "What the devil was--" A second explosion louder than anything he had ever heard before shook the entire mountain with a deafening sound so powerful, tremors rocked the tunnel.

"Get out of here now!" Cuke roared and threw a floating ball of light that followed him into the air. They took off running into the tunnel's depths with their wagons as the mountain shook and seemed ready to collapse on them.

***

Outsider watched Cuke windwalk through the tunnel and smiled at his wily friend. Good for you, Cuke Barleybeard, he thought and lowered his bow. Knowing his friends were safe, a tired weariness set into his limbs and he felt the overwhelming urge to sleep.

Maybe just a quick nap.

He closed his eyes when a roaring voice met his ears. "You won't escape me so easily, you insignificant little runts!"

He managed to sit up slowly and watched as the large form of Cancer struck out at the tunnel then bowed his back with a deep inhale. Recognizing the demon's firebreath, Outsider feared for his friends who were stuck within the tunnel which would surely be a slow walk.

Willing his arms to work one last time, he took up his bow once more and aimed for the demon when a thought struck him. He had only one hand. Staring at the stump that oozed red rather than spurted as the coagulant Cuke had given him was a strong one; he hooked the string on his bracer and struggling to calm his trembling, aimed high to lower his aim onto his target as he had been taught.

However what he found within his sights now, over the demon's head, garnered much more appeal. With a shallow breath, he inhaled as deeply as his one lung would allow and steadied his hand.

Her song hummed on his lips.

He thought of Natalia and the way she had believed he was truly different; judging him by his actions and not his race.

He thought of Thom and the way he had always kept faith in him; even when he had no reason to.

He thought of Cuke who was his oldest friend and was always there for him; no matter how dire the situation.

And he thought of Merlon who saw the light in him; and told him he could be more than he had ever hoped.

He drew back his bow and released, then had the second arrow on its way before the first had even hit. The arrows soared across the chasm and he laid his head back to watch them; utterly exhausted. The bow fell from his limp fingers.

The first arrow struck the vortex of wind and blasted a hole in the churning wall of air momentarily; just long enough for the second to pass through unhindered and explode against the mountain shelf nearby.

A great plume of white and grey erupted.

Cancer paused and stared up at the sky just as the avalanche collided with the vortex in a massive white wave and thunderous rumbling. The demon backed away from the mountain slowly, eyes wide and unbelieving, head shaking slowly, and watched as the torrent of ice punched through the vortex and rode along it; creating a titanic downpour of thousands of tons of snow.

The demon unleashed its pent up firebreath in a furious rage, refusing to die, and melted away the wall of white above it in a shower of flames.

For a brief moment at least, before the entire shelf broke off under the sheer weight of the colossal avalanche and promptly crushed it with a deafening implosion. The massive wave of snow destroyed everything in its path; shattering trees like glass then burying them under a mountain of ice; the hot lake vanished among a cloud of steam.

Outsider watched the demon disappear beneath the flood and smiled vengefully at its death. He laughed faintly with his short breaths as the path of destruction he created rushed toward him with an earsplitting roar. The intense cold reached him first so he took a deep breath; the sweet scent of cold and pine he so missed the last thing he smelled, and the snow his last sight.

Her song still hummed on his lips and grew louder and louder in his head.

He closed his eyes just before it hit.

Saleane.
Chapter Thirty Seven: Aftermath

Morning came and found the little town of Journ abuzz with life as the citizens were laid out in blankets and cots. One by one they awoke with a million questions and exclamations. A few particularly stubborn dwarves had even tried to take a swing at Graham and his men as they tended to them while Bryn discussed the situation with Merlon; the first to awake.

"What do ye' mean more?" he growled and forced himself to stand and batted away her hands as she tried to guide him back down. "Woman, I'm fine! And I know where all the town's stuff has gone so let's go get it!"

"Merlon, you're in no condition to go anywhere. Look, you can hardly stand." She motioned to his quivering knees with her arms folded across her chest. "Please, Merlon, we've got your people back; just let Cuke and the others go get it."

The stubborn dwarf was already shaking his head. "It's quite a ways out there, easy to get lost."

"Cuke has magic to avoid such a thing."

He eyed her then and saw the concern in her face. Her eyes were sullen and lines creased her pale skin. Her graying hair was astray and cast about in the chill wind. "I aint the only one who needs some sleep."

"Admittedly, yes," she conceded. "But I don't have that luxury right now, too many people counting on me."

"And me as well." He smiled and she realized she had played right into his hand. "I'll be back as soon as we've got enough supplies for everyone."

He made his way past the pallets and their occupants with several waves and grins until he was outside. He inhaled deeply and took a quiet moment to thank Dirringyr for bringing everyone back safely.

Satisfied, he entered his house and overheard the voices within arguing.

"..we can't tell him yet! He only just woke up.."

"But he has every right to know."

"I don't know, Cuke, I'm with Thom on this one."

"Thank you, Natalia. See Cuke? Just leave it be for now until we have the opportunity to tell him."

"How about right now?" Merlon growled as he strode into the room. All eyes snapped to him immediately and Cuke's resolve melted away immediately. The grizzled dwarf watched the three of them and noted the guilt stamped on all their faces. "What's wrong?"

The group stared back silently.

"I aint one for likin' surprises so why don't ye' just tell me now an' get it over with?" he reasoned and crossed his thick arms. "Thom?"

The hobbit looked up quickly then dropped his gaze back to the floor with a slump. He shook his little head and clamped his mouth shut. Natalia likewise stared at the ground and turned her head to the side.

"Just us dwarves then." Merlon stared Cuke hard in the eye with an unspoken challenge. He tilted his head back and thrust out his chest; but the cleric could see the strain in the old dwarf's face from being in stasis.

"How about that arm wrestling match then?" Cuke called and walked toward him with a devious grin. "I win and we wait, you win I'll tell you."

"You're on." Merlon accepted and they both crouched beside a crate. They gripped hands with elbows flat on the wood and curled their fingers around the others'. "Ready?"

"Definitely." Cuke smiled outwardly despite the guilt and remorse he felt inside. "Go."

Merlon's arm contracted and his muscles bulged; veins popping out and his face soon grew red. He pressed and pressed until sweat ran down his forehead and into his beard. His teeth grit and a snarl escaped his lips below his bulging eyes that scowled at the cleric across from him.

But Cuke's arm didn't budge.

He pushed back and slowly, without much effort, he laid Merlon's arm out flat to the crate. He stared down at the crate apologetically and released the old dwarf's hand immediately. "Sorry, Merlon."

The now mostly grey bearded fighter threw up his hands and cursed. "Fine," he spat resignedly. "Guess I'll find out later, but we've got a job to do nonetheless."

The group converged on him then as he wiped his brow, panting. "When I was in that...thing's...mind control, I saw where he stashed all our furniture and food and the like. It's out past the town a short ways in the corner of the woods."

"Why'd it even bother to hide it all?" Thom asked, unable to repress his curiosity.

"Just to get to me I'd wager." Merlon replied and spat on the ground. "Good riddance to the damn thing and good on ye' boy for killin' it." He grinned at Cuke. "Explains how ye' beat me just now."

He stood and walked outside with the others following him into the street. "'Course," he turned around slowly and deliberately. "I am curious as to where Outsider is and how ye' beat it."

They all froze and glanced at one another nervously. Cuke shrugged and fidgeted about. "Well, you know...just played it smart I guess." he mumbled and Merlon nodded sarcastically with his eyes closed.

"Of course."

"And about Outsider," Thom and Natalia shot Cuke a look but he continued anyway. "He's not here, uh, well, you know how he likes the forest."

Merlon nodded again and turned back around. "Okay then, let's get a move on."

The sun was just setting in the west when they returned the last of the furniture and supplies to the homes and businesses. Cuke stretched out and Merlon popped his back with a scale-like set of notes.

"Quite the work out eh?" Cuke laughed and sat down heavily with his bowl of stew and bread. He stared at Merlon's back when the old dwarf didn't reply. "Aren't you hungry?"

The two dwarves were in Merlon's house, away from the bustling of the townspeople's recovery. Bryn and her men had been at work all day to keep them fed and comfortable, with one or two waking up each hour. Natalia busied herself helping her with Thom by her side; as much to keep away from being the one to tell Merlon as to do her part.

Cuke leaned back and took a draught of the warm broth. "It's good, Merlon, eat."

Merlon lowered himself into his chair and held up a small painting in his hand; a painting of a young, black bearded dwarf with a smiling blonde dwarf woman and a young girl with bright eyes just like his in front of them, grinning. Merlon stared at it then tossed it to Cuke.

"That's me family," the old dwarf spoke huskily. "Me late wife Jeanette and our daughter Ellen." He sniffed and wiped his round nose on his sleeve with a sad smile. "She's six in that picture there. We had just left the ol kingdom to find somewhere new to live when it split apart.

"I got a job smithin' mythril to the east in a city called Gilded Lily, and it was just that. Looked great as first, supposed to be makin' plenty o coin and have a nice cabin of our own. But we get there and it's hardly better than a slum, the house is an apartment, and I'm back in the mines."

Merlon took a deep shaky breath and Cuke handed the painting back to him.

"I should've just left right then and there, but I was a fool and kept tellin' meself and me girls it would get better." He hung his head and shook it then looked back up with eyes glistening. "They came to me one day to tell me a messenger had arrived at our door with offer for a better job in a better place...they were so excited." Merlon's eyes were far away then as he stared ahead. "We were leavin' the mines when I hears a shout, someone screamin' "Cave in", and the next thing I know the world's gone dark.

"The mine collapsed tunnel by tunnel as we ran, gettin' closer an' closer and louder an' louder until it was all ye' could do not to fall from the shakin' and cover yer ears over the boomin'." He shook his head and gripped at something intangible then dropped his hands with a sob. "I woke up a week later with broken arms and a busted leg...but they were gone."

Cuke patted him on the shoulder and shook him. "I'm sorry, Merlon."

The old dwarf nodded and wiped his eyes. "Sweatin' out me eyes," he mumbled and laughed briskly. "That Cancer fella brought me back into all of that, and so immersed in it I was, that when I came out, I could read it all over yer faces."

It was Cuke's turn to drop his head and sweat out of his eyes. A long moment of silence passed between them as both dwarves at last began to mourn. "He saved me." Cuke muttered and sighed. "He saved all of us." He looked up determinedly and they locked eyes. "And yet.."

"And yet no one will know or remember him." Merlon finished and Cuke nodded.

"He did so much, I mean, he sacrificed everything." Cuke grit his teeth and frowned over his shoulder at the town. "And not one of them would give him a second look if he were still here I'd bet."

"One thing I've learned in me three hundred and fifty two years is that the world aint fair, and everyone is forgotten eventually." He slapped Cuke on the shoulder with a smile on his grizzled face. "But some things will live on, like legends and stories."

Cuke smiled and sniffled. "The Legend of Outsider?" He laughed as he imagined the very thought of such a thing. "Ridiculous."

"Just ridiculous enough that we should do it." Merlon chuckled and leaned back. They shared the much needed laughter until it died away. "He isn't really gone; he's just with the few he ever loved and watchin' over the rest."

The cleric nodded and shook the fighter's hand. "Old fart like you will probably run into him soon enough anyway."

"Then you'll really be sad with no heroes left to save ye'." Merlon laughed and devoured his bowl of stew and bread. "So with this done with, what're ye gonna' do with yer life from now on?"

Cuke shrugged and set his empty bowl aside. "I suppose I'll just keep adventuring about without destination and just see where it takes me. I've always wanted to see the southern islands." He cracked a smile and a glint came to his eye with the spark of adventure. "What about you?"

"Reopen me shop o course, I retired from fightin' and adventurin' a long time ago." Merlon grinned. "Thom's already agreed to stay as me apprentice, and last I heard, Bryn and Natalia were settin' up shop here as well; lookin' to make an inn o their own with me friend Garth leavin' to take it easy on some farm."

"I'm sure Thom is excited about the prospects of getting to see Natalia again." Cuke teased and Merlon nodded with a laugh. "Sounds like your town of Journ has become more of a home than it was before."

"It'll give us plenty of people we both know for me to embarrass you in front of when we have our drinkin' contest as well." He glanced over at Cuke when he was done and nudged him with his elbow. "Ye do know that in a few days or so when me strength's back, we're gonna redo that arm wrestlin' match right?"

Cuke nodded and forced his face blank. "Of course, right after we tell everyone the infamous Legend of Outsider."

The End
Epilogue:

Dradewen slammed his pack down and threw clothes into it quickly, then stuffed them down with food and rations. He slipped on his boots and heavy coat, tied his sword onto his back and slung the pack on. With the most care he had ever taken not to be heard, he eased his door open and peeked out.

A few guards stood on the other side of the hall.

With a deep breath he squeezed out and closed the door behind him with a click. The nearest man turned to look but saw only black as Dradewen slammed his head against the stone wall. At the sound the others spun around and saw a large figure looming over their comrade.

"Halt, you!" one of them ordered and drew his sword. The others did likewise and in a V formation of four, they closed in on him. "By Commander Robaine's orders I place you under arrest for assault of an official guard."

Dradewen dropped to his knees with the speaker before him, one behind him, and two on his sides. The one behind him removed a length of rope to bind his hands, a sword to his left and right, while the speaker remained unarmed.

"If you refuse your right to--" Dradewen headbutted the man holding the rope with the back of his head, smashing his nose, and lunged forward into the speaker, throwing him off his feet. Dradewen rolled over the man and slipped the unconscious guard's helm off.

He fit it around his fist and deflected a clumsy strike, then gripped the man's off hand wrist and punched his elbow with the metal; splitting the bone as his arm overextended the wrong way.

The man screamed then was thrown into the second guard who fell over under the weight. He tried to push the man off but was promptly struck on the head and passed into unconsciousness.

Dradewen rushed away from the torches and dropped the helm; the red raven against a black sun insignia glinting in the firelight. He sprinted with his long legs up the stairs to the top of the tower.

He kicked the hatch open and rolled forward as the two men on watch spun around in bewilderment. The Warrior leapt from his roll to his feet and into a jump that transferred all his force into an uppercut. The guard flew back and into the wall just as the second reached him and skidded to a halt.

"Wait, I--" Dradewen grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the stone. Dusting his hands off, he turned from them and to the ballistae mounted to the tower. With a single thick arm he yanked the lever back and turned the heavy weapon to the right on its hinges.

Already he could see the window he was aiming for; the one looking over Robaine's bed.

"Take my clan under your spell will you?" he spat and steeled his gaze into the storm that blew against the tower and stung his dark eyes. "I don't think so." He thought it all too fortunate for the former guard captain to strike such an impossible bargain of joining forces with his clan, and just before the last leader of the guard died in a sudden accident.

Not to mention the equally mysterious death of his grandfather whom Robaine had asked of repeatedly with some sort of urgency he didn't understand.

He had brought it to his clan's attention and begged the elders to speak to Dunawar, and they all agreed it was an unorthodox plan that would bring many changes but also saw it as a way to make the clan's position more powerful over the dwarves they shared the town with.

Dradewen scowled further and wanted to thrash his entire family for being so blind. How could they not see it, he often wondered and watched in sickening silence as the Guard had accumulated in their private tower to "combine control and gain". In the last several weeks he had taken to sealing himself away from the others to avoid whatever poison or magic plagued their minds as he believed there was.

Specifically his father who had grown unbearable. Always skulking around their castle with Robaine in tow, their conversations often silent; Dradewen shivered in thought of what the plotting captain...commander, had done to him.

The Warrior's temper fueled even further, veins stuck out against his skin and spiderwebbed his neck.

The ballistae stopped short of the window as the hinge turned to its maximum range. Shaking his head and muttering "No" over and over he pressed against it mightily with corded muscles bulging and swelling in his back, arms, and chest. He snarled as the metal hinges popped and bent as he forced them to turn further inch by inch.

His body steamed against the winter air by the time he was done and sweat froze to his brow. Dradewen didn't even notice, he was so intent on that stainglass window. He leaned forward and aimed down the sights similar to a very large crossbow and smiled.

The trigger clicked beneath his finger and sent the five foot long bolt coated in explosive oil hurtling through the air. A second later the window shattered and flames leapt through it as the oil ignited by the sparks cast from impact reached out to the sky with coiling tendrils of white hot fire.

***

An older man wearing only a torn and tattered breechcloth and iron manacles walked forward with chains dragging along behind him. His face was weathered and aged with matted hair left upon the top and a grimace set into his wrinkles. Scars and blisters covered his body like an imperfect pattern partially overlapped by a rash. He hobbled across the dark room with a severe limp from his broken legs and bowed back with his fractured arms hanging low, almost touching the ground. A noose hung from his neck.

He looked up and his bright eyes shone with some vast knowledge and even humor. His grimace eased into a slight smile and he beckoned him forth with a gentle wave.

"Do not be afraid my child, I mean you no harm." His kind yet rough voice wheezed. "I have watched you for a very long time now and have yet to be disappointed." The broken man stepped closer and held out his hand. "My name is Asylann and I know pain and suffering even the likes of you could never understand. I have shared this with everyone and everything for millennia across the entire universe.

"Most who suffer ailments, disease, and physical harm can only strike back out or take it, with those two choices being the only choices. However there are those such as yourself who can accept the pain and give it back, as well as being able to decide who should receive it. This is far more rare than you might think."

"So you're in charge of Hell?"

"Hell?" His eyebrow arced and an amused grin wrought its way through his grimace. "Why would you think that?"

"Cause that's where I'm going isn't it?"

The old man eased himself down into a chair that couldn't have been there before. "Please, take a seat my child. This is not a conversation you will want to miss." He folded his hands on his lap and smiled warmly. "That's better. Now, if I may begin; let me tell you why I am here so that you may save the both of us time. I am here to offer you life if you choose to take it, though at a cost."

"How much?"

"A lifetime of pain and woe."

"Doesn't sound like anything new."

"This will be. It will be not only your pain you shall feel but others' as well. I cannot say how exactly, as it varies from person to person, but I can promise you to some degree you will suffer with others for others."

"Why?"

"Why so you can understand better, my child, as well as to receive a second chance; something too few are ever offered. I can admit I would choose not to give you this extra pain if I could, but it is beyond me to do so. I can only empower you with what I have."

"And you have pain?"

"Everyone and everything's pain from everywhere."

"When?"

"Now."

"All the time?"

"All the time."

"And that's what I'll have too?"

"No, no, nothing so extensive. You shall perhaps, feel the pain of those around you within several feet, or those you touch, or maybe only those you come to know well; I cannot say."

"Are you sure it wouldn't be better if I just stayed dead?"

"No, I am not, which is why I leave it up to you to decide."

"What will I have to do?"

"Live, suffer, be happy, die...again; really whatever you choose to do with it."

"Then why offer it to me? Why not someone else, someone better?"

"Because you specifically know how to suffer and still make the right decisions. You do not let the pain cloud your judgment and guide your hand. This is most respectable, I find."

"But you don't require me to do anything?"

"Only one thing."

"Here we go: the catch."

"Yes, of sorts. You see, demons cannot truly die on your plane; they can only be sent back to their own. More powerful demons such as Cancer will be first in line to return and often seek revenge on those who banished them; but this can be overcome by various magical means. It is this I wish to circumvent."

"You wish me to go to the Pit and slay him there?"

"Oh no, that would be suicide. If Cancer had wished to end you it would have and had plenty of opportunities. No, I want to entrap it within you."

"To what?"

"I can bind its soul to you and your body; giving you enough energy and power to survive the resurrection and the amount of pain I would be forced to share with you. This way you can return to life, Cancer cannot come back for revenge later, and you have some new tricks."

"This is madness, you really expect me to accept this? To take a demon's soul inside of me?"

"Admittedly no, however I always leave the option...just once."

"This one time is the only chance I'll get to accept your offer?"

"Cancer's soul is traversing the planes to return to the Pit as we speak. Any later than this and it will be already be too late."

"So this is more about Cancer than me."

"Both, rather equally. Cancer is powerful but young and therefore brash. Had he been smart and learned wisdom and strategy you and your group would not have stood a chance. As it is, he did not and purely took pleasure by causing pain.

"Something you can take and accept while remaining you. Too often do I see and feel others warp and bend beneath such weights. It just seemed a natural fit and a means to an end. Just imagine who you could save and protect with such abilities."

"What abilities?"

"Well you would have your pain empathy of course, as well as enhanced bodily functions from having two souls; much like the way a sorcerer empowers himself. Yet I do not know what kind of changes they will be with it being a demon soul."

"I still don't know if I should be the one you ask."

"Tell me, do you have to feel yourself breathing to know that you are?"

"Well. I'm not breathing, I'm dead."

"Yes, but...it is just an expression. Pain for you is like breathing; something that will always happen and you have little to no control over. Even if you were to hold your breath until you passed out, your body would just keep on breathing while you were unconscious."

"I understand."

"Do you see why I would choose you for such a thing?"

"I must admit it is a tempting offer."

"I do not offer it easily. Such transactions are rare; few and far between, for they are dangerous."

"I could become a monster."

"Indeed, which is why I have watched you for some time when this was seen forthcoming. I honestly believe you will be the optimal choice."

"Are there others?"

"At the moment? No, you are pretty much it."

"Oh."

"Yes, sorry; no pressure."

"I suppose I don't have much of a choice do I?"

"Of course you do, there is no obligation unless you impress one upon yourself."

"I can't let Cancer come back after the others with me dead and gone."

"You can."

"No, I can't."

"Then you are decided?"

"Yes...give me Cancer."

"This may feel uncomfortable."

A warm feeling passed from Asylann's hand and into his guest's palm where it remained. Then suddenly the warm feeling ignited to flames. The fire spread up his arm and burnt away his flesh; charring the meat and bone. He screamed and fought against it and thrashed about violently. He slammed himself against the ground and rolled back and forth but the flames would not relent.

"I can only give you this, Outsider." Asylann's voice echoed above it all as he cringed and contorted in white hot agony. "Spiritual and mental are my gifts; everything physical you shall have to find on your own. Go to a gnome tinkerer named Reginald Quadrillionus, I believe you have met before some time ago. He does not know you are coming but he has something you should see. Farewell."

Asylann vanished and left him sitting there in the dark alone.

Then there was light.

The flames scorched him more and more and passed his torso and down to his waist. His ribcage visible and limbs fully eroded to the bare bone, the fire spread down his throat and consumed his face as he tried to breathe but had no lungs left to do so.

The inferno slid down his esophagus and into his chest where it devoured his heart.

