A blanket of ants covered the ranger's remains. Yellow Sky estimated that the ranger must have met his unfortunate end less than a week ago.

"What killed him?" Lydith asked. She prodded the ranger's dilapidated leather armour with her staff, causing an sudden wave of activity as ants and various insects scurried away.

The cultist grunted. "Hard to tell. Dead things decay fast in this forest."

"Spiders, most likely," Gameth picked up a badly abused leather pouch and pointed out several odd bite-marks on the surface.

Yellow Sky scratched his chin. "Could be. But pouch could have been bitten long before the ranger got dead."

"There is one way to be sure. Stand back." The priestess raised her hands and prepared to chant.

Yellow Sky grimaced and took two steps back while Gameth frowned. "Is this necessary?"

"If we know where the spiders are, then we can avoid their nests," came the reply from gritted teeth as Lydith concentrated.

A red glow slowly spread over the corpse, sending more of the insects scurrying away. The corpse suddenly jerked and started to sit up. Half-decayed flesh fell off, hissing as the power of Krypta ate it away, causing a stomach-churning stench that had Yellow Sky and Gameth backing away hastily. Finally, the skeletal remains of the ranger stood before the priestess, still clad in its leather armour.

What is your name? Lydith queried in thought.

Brinneck TrailBlazer, came the reply. The skeleton turned its head slightly over one side, as if waiting for a response.

My name is Lydith, the priestess offered politely. I brought you back from the realm of Krypta. She was careful not to directly ask what caused the ranger's demise.

But surprisingly, the skeleton seemed to understand why it raised. It lifted a skeletal arm and pointed further into the forest. Many spiders, the undead's voice echoed in her head. A large colony ahead.

Lydith nodded. We want to get around them. Is there any way?

A hidden trail. Behind those trees.

Lydith glanced over where the skeleton pointed and registered the copse of trees. Thank you for your help. She raised her hands and prepared to dispel her magic. Goodbye, Brinneck TrailBlazer.

Goodbye, the skeleton echoed. Lydith.

The red glow of Kryptian magic faded and the skeleton crumpled to pieces on the ground. Lydith lowered her hands. "There's a hidden trail further on behind those trees. It will lead us around the spider colony ahead of us."

"How nice it must be to be able to talk to the undead," mused Yellow Sky admiringly. "I didn't know priestesses could do that."

"Not all of them," murmured Gameth distantly. He bent his head in thought. "Whose is it?"

The question caught Lydith by surprise. "Whose is what?"

"The hidden trail. Whose trail is it? If it's a hidden trail, who's responsible for hiding it?"

Lydith kept quiet. She had not thought to ask.

Gameth grunted. "Well, I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The answer to Gameth's question came clear in time. The hidden trail was cleverly concealed between two thick rows of trees and brambles and was wide enough to accommodate up to five men to walking abreast. They had followed the trail and now came across a few dead and decaying mules along with their packs. There was no sign of their owners. After scouting around a bit, Yellow Sky checked the mule packs personally and then let Gameth survey them.

"Elven mule packs," said Gameth pointing at the faded colours which once decorated the packs.

"Found this in most of them," grinned Yellow Sky as he lifted a small half-rotten paper package. Inside were dried plants which gave out a fragrant smell.

"Elven pipeweed," confirmed Gameth. "According to the Sovereign's law, caravans carrying pipeweed must travel on the designated royal highways and this certainly isn't one of them. This trail is probably being used by Elven smugglers."

"When were these killed?" asked Lydith as she gestured at the mules' remains.

Yellow Sky shrugged. "A few days ago maybe. Why? You can talk to dead mules too?"

Lydith was about to give a sharp retort to that when a creaking sound filled the air. Gameth drew his sword just as a massive tree branch smashed into his chest, flinging him into the ground ten feet away.

"Gameth!" Lydith rushed over to the groaning warrior, just as a massive being stepped unto the trail. The being was a huge tree with two large branches serving as it's arms. It walked on two short tree trunks and stared at them with evil eyes which were bored into the main trunk.

Lydith looked at the horrific monster. She had only heard of tales of such creatures, fearfully named Daemonwoods, and from what she had heard, they were extremely difficult to destroy. The daemonwood took a menacing step towards them, just as another figure appeared on the trail.

The second figure was smaller and undoubtedly female. Her green skin and immodesty over her unclothed state identified her as a dryad. "Take them both," the dyrad commanded as the daemonwood continued towards them. "And try not to break them."

Both? Lydith looked around. There was no sign of Yellow Sky. The daemonwood stepped over them, blocking out the sky, and Lydith shut her eyes as the gnarly branches reached down towards them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Not for the first time, Ryand vowed that he would retire by the end of the year. As Hallmaster of the gambling hall of Centuria, Ryand had seen enough of wealth, greed and desperation to fill several lifetimes.

"I don't know what kind of a shady business you're running here! I want my money back now!" bellowed the dwarf in front of him. Several of the Hall's bouncers were standing behind him, some sporting bruises that were already starting to turn purple.

"I'm truly sorry, sir, but the Hall does not refund tokens to clients who have played and lost them in a fair game."

"The dealer was cheating! I saw him switch cards with my own eyes!"

"That is a very serious accusation," replied Ryand in his business tone. "We strive to maintain a high level of honesty among our staff – one found doing what you have just mentioned can lose his job, incidentally along with the use of his hands."

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU PEOPLE DO TO YOUR BLASTED STAFF! I WANT MY MONEY BACK AND-"

"We apologise for your frustration and loss, sir. Perhaps a free drink will help calm you down."

"ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR!? I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT I DO TO PEOPLE WHO CALL ME-"

Ryand quickly side-stepped as the raging dwarf charged at him. The dwarf's mailed fist swung into empty air, just as Ryand smashed a small iron truncheon to the back of the dwarf's neck. His eyes widened slightly when the dwarf did not fall down as expected.

The dwarf looked up, eyes a little unfocussed. "I'll get you for tha-" Ryand brought the truncheon down again, and this time the dwarf fell heavily on the floor. Ryand breathed in slowly as his hand absently re-concealed the truncheon back into his wrist sleeve.

"Throw him out back," said Ryand to the bouncers. "It's best not to worry the other customers." The bouncers nodded and proceeded to drag the heavy body of the unconscious dwarf out of his office. Ryand sat back down behind his desk and started to massage his wrist. It would probably ache for days, perhaps some of that soothing cream that the Agrelians sold at their Temple would help. Healers might be gentle and kind, he mused, but they certainly drove a hard bargain on their products.

"Seems like you've done pretty well for yourself, Ryand."

The truncheon slipped out into Ryand's hand within a split second as Ryand sprang up and looked around for the intruder. A dark figure stepped out of a corner of the office, Ryand could have sworn that he'd seen no one there earlier. His eyes widened in recognition of the figure. "Tomas? Tomas, is that you?"

Tomas raised his hands to show that he was holding no weapons. "Yeah, it's me, Ryand. Been a while hasn't it? Nice work with the dwarf there."

Ryand grinned as he lowered his truncheon. "All part of the trade, Tomas – you should know that." He started to massage his wrist once again. "I should have been able to take him out with one blow. That was a bit embarrassing."

"Don't flog yourself over it. Some dwarves have thicker skulls than trolls."

Ryand gave a short laugh as he kept his truncheon again with one flick of his wrist. "Good to see you again Tomas, I always knew that one day you'd turn up again. A lot of things have happened since the last time you were here."

"I can imagine." Tomas sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Like your promotion to Hall Master. A fair jump for a fellow rogue in the Guild."

Ryand produced two glasses and a bottle of wine from under his desk. "Yes, I have managed over the years," he said modestly. "The late Master Karrigan was very generous to me."

An eyebrow raised over Tomas's eye. "The late Master Karrigan?"

"It seems you have been out of touch for quite some time, Tomas," said Ryand as he poured the both of them a glass of wine, "Guildmaster Karrigan left us for the realms of Krypta last year - may Krypta forever keep his dark, cynical soul in Her cold grasp."

"Is that so," Tomas narrowed his eyes in thought. "So who's in charge now?"

"A colleague of yours. One of the former Shadows - Malvon, remember him?"

Tomas frowned. "Yes, I remember Malvon. And he probably remembers me very well since I gave him that scar along the side of his face."

"You gave him that? Always wondered how he got that scar, should have known it might have been you."

"It was an accident," replied Tomas dryly. "It should have gone around his throat."

"Ah, an old rival," said Ryand as he sipped his wine. "And you are going to correct that now, I suppose?"

"No, no. Nothing like that." Tomas leaned back. "What I'm interested in is why the Rogue's Guild wants my daughter." Tomas briefly explained the events on the night of his temporary capture.

"Sylas and Krut, eh?" Ryand snorted. "A nastier pair you'll never meet – those two scrape at the very bottom of the barrel of self-respect. It's no surprise that Malvon sent them on such a task."

"Any idea why they were sent?"

Ryand thought for a moment. "A week or so ago, a group of strangers arrived in Centuria and sought audience with our esteemed Guildmaster Malvon. After a closed meeting, they left again, and it is rumored that Malvon has made some sort of agreement with them. Sylas and Krut must have been sent after that. These strangers might be behind Malvon's sudden interest in your daughter."

Tomas sipped his wine thoughtfully. "I don't relish another meeting with Malvon – especially now that he knows that I'm still alive. These strangers – where did they go? If I can find them, perhaps I can find out their intentions."

"A logical deduction," admitted Ryand. "But not necessary the safest. The strangers that spoke to Malvon were priestesses. If you're planning to go after them, I dare say that you will soon be flirting with death."

Tomas smiled grimly as he lifted his glass to Ryand. "My kind of work."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

One of the first things that Lydith learnt at the Convent was that Initiates were ranked the lowest of all who dwelled in the Temple of Krypta. Even the Temple servants were given better treatment and privileges; servants did the general cleaning and waited upon the wishes of the priestesses while Initiates were expected to do the many other menial tasks, most of which she soon found out consisted of dealing with large amounts of dirt and scrubbing.

"I think I've scrubbed enough robes to last me several lifetimes," she complained wearily to Karyn as she drenched another crimson robe into the large tub in front of her. The Convent's laundry room was cramped due to the mountain of dirty robes piled up along one wall. A huge vat of boiling water and soap suds occupied the center of the room.

Karyn smiled in reply as she stoked the flame under the steaming vat. "Don't think that this is bad – there's far more worse tasks that an Initiate can be assigned to."

Lydith carefully wrung the robe she had been scrubbing and threw it into the vat. The wet outfit smacked ungracefully on the soapy mixture before sinking into the boiling depths. "Who would have thought that so many robes can get dirty within a day! How many robes do the priestesses each have!?"

"One for every day of the week, I suppose."

"Krypta spare us!" groaned Lydith at which Karyn laughed.

Karyn, the initiate from the library, was the first friend Lydith made ever since entering into the service of Krypta. Karyn's parents were both librarians and had instilled the thirst for knowledge into the young girl during her early years. The girl found herself captivated by the enigmatic death magic wielded by the priestesses of Krypta. So, prompted by her insatiable curiosity, and the fact that the Temple of Krypta had a library of ancient Kryptian scrolls, she enrolled herself under the Convent of Krypta in Necroselleum and spent as much time as she could studying the Temple's collection of scrolls and tomes in it's dark library.

Lydith wiped the sweat from her forehead and handed Karyn the brush. "Here – it's your turn to do the scrubbing. I think my arms are going to drop off."

"Okay, but wait – let me get this off first." Karyn proceeded to remove a tiny gold ring she wore on her right index finger.

"Oh, that's pretty," said Lydith admiringly.

Karyn beamed as she showed her the ring. "It's a gift from my parents on my fifteenth birthday. I wear it all the time. Except when I'm doing something like scrubbing clothes – I don't want to accidentally scratch it." She kept the ring in her belt pouch. "How about you? Do you have any jewelry?"

"Only this," Lydith bent her head and drew out the necklace which she kept under her robe.

"That's very beautiful," said Karyn as she leaned forwards for a closer inspection. "It looks like a ruby all smoothened out although I've never seen a ruby glow like that before. But then again, I've never seen a lot of rubies either." The girl studied the jewel as it spun slowly on its gold chain. "That's strange.. I could have sworn that I've seen pictures of this jewel before."

"Pictures?" said Lydith in surprise. "Where?"

"In the library. I think they were pictures of bloodstones from centuries back. I only happened to see them because I was looking for references to ancient sacrificial artifacts which the priestesses don't use anymore, or at least I hope they don't because some of them really can turn your stomach inside out when you learn how they were used back in those days when-"

"What's a bloodstone?" interrupted Lydith.

"Oh, bloodstones? They are very rare. I only know what the section wrote about them. They're not really natural gems – they're created by some tedious method involving drops of the creator's blood over a long period of time." Her voice lowered to a conspirational whisper. "It's said that a bloodstone binds the creator of the bloodstone to the bearer. The ancient necromancer kings used to create them and bestow them to their generals to ensure that the generals don't betray them. After the Necrolyte Wars, when the last necromancer king was finally defeated, all his bloodstones were destroyed because it was feared that he could use them from beyond the grave."

Lydith stared at her friend, trying to work out if she was pulling her leg. "Do you think it's possible that this is actually a-"

"What are you two doing!?" screeched a voice from the next room. "At this rate you'll never finish by dinner time!"

Both the girls immediately jumped to their tasks, Karyn scrubbing the robes for all she was worth while Lydith stoked the fire under the vat, making sure that it did not burn out before their task was done. However, her mind swam with thoughts of her necklace, bloodstones and necromancer kings reaching out with claw-like hands from their graves.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At first glance, one might think that no living plants grew in the gardens of the Temple of Krypta. Although much of the garden was defined by swirling shades of gray sand flowing around islands of rocks and walkways, there were some trees with bone-white trunks and dark leaves. Even though the Temple and its gardens were located in the midst of a large city, the gardens retained a silence that could only be appropriately regarded as 'deathly'.

A scuffle of footsteps broke the quietness as Aunt Daedra walked into the heart of the garden. As she went deeper, she heard another sound – the sound of something metallic scrapping the soil. Mother Darkfriend came into view – she was wearing a dirty apron over her robes and was on her knees using a small hand-spade to clear out some soil at the foot of one of those strange trees. She looked almost like a portly farmer's wife rooting about in the vegetable patch. Not far away from her stood her death knight Karn, it's glowing red eyes watching Aunt Daedra as she approached.

"Krypta's blessings, Mother Darkfriend," intoned Aunt Daedra respectfully as she got closer.

The Convent Mother of Krypta looked up from her task. "Ah, Daedra. You respond quickly to a summons."

"I was not doing anything of great importance," replied Aunt Daedra. "What prompts you to summon me?"

"A message came from our sources in Centuria today," said Mother Darkfriend. "It appears that the Inner Sect have made another appearance – this time to the Guildmaster of the Rogues in Centuria."

Aunt Daedra frowned. "It has been a while since they last appeared. And they seem selective with the people they meet. Is the Guildmaster working with them?"

"According to our sources, yes, for the time being. At least as long as he finds it profitable to deal with them." The Convent Mother of Krypta's eyes hardened as she stood up. "We must find out who these sisters are and what are their intentions. A clique like the Inner Sect cannot be allowed to continue. You must go and try to pick up their trail from Centuria."

"I will leave at once," said Aunt Daedra. "I must say that it puzzles me why would Krypta allow a group of renegade priestesses like the Inner Sect to exist."

"Krypta works in strange ways, dear sister," said Mother Darkfriend. "Be wary, for I suspect that the Inner Sect has got eyes and ears even here in the Temple. You may go." The Convent Mother of Krypta turned back to her digging as Aunt Daedra left the garden.