Seventh day after Sun's Height, year 30016 DC

Ensa whirled around to face the others, the skirts of her robe throwing up dust. Beyond the light of the torch she could see a small group of shambling figures.

'Ghouls!' she yelled.

It was unfortunate that she'd just been talking in draconic, and shouted in that language. Emlyn, Tynan and Sabra stared at her in confusion.

Shadow was quicker on the uptake. He didn't understand Ensa's shout, but he recognised the warning tone and swung around, loosening his rapier in its sheathe. Like the half-orc, Shadow had enhanced vision that showed him clearly the lurching figures just reaching the shadowy radius of the torchlight.

'Tynan,' he said, coolly. 'Company.'

The three humans turned sharply. Tynan's longsword slithered out of its scabbard as he turned and Sabra dropped the torch – the spelled flame was in no danger of being extinguished, and it left the monk's hands free – and kicked it so that it rolled a little way down the ancient hallway, lighting up their antagonists clearly.

Both hands on the hilt of his broadsword, Emlyn gagged. The ghouls' smell hadn't reached them before in the still, musty air, but as they began to stir up the air of the crypt the stench of rotting flesh, sickly and stomach-turning, assailed him. And the ghouls' appearance was almost worse. They were bent over, hunched like crippled insects, and the shuffling scuttle of their progress was barely audible above the thumping of Emlyn's heart. He could see white bone glinting through the dark, strangely bloodless flesh, and sharp teeth filled a mouth more like a daggerfish than something almost human-shaped.

Emlyn gulped and drew his sword, holding it firmly in sweaty hands. He took a step forwards to place himself beside Sabra, just far enough away from the wall of the crypt that he would have room to swing his blade unimpeded. The rocky walls of the crypt towered above him into shadowy blackness above, the shallow niches in this area still empty.

'Well, if we die, at least they won't have far to take the bodies.' Shadow's dry voice came from the other end of the line to Emlyn. The young fighter swallowed. It was an awful long time since he'd been drilled by his father with a practice sword. This year he'd not even found the time and the willpower to practice alone. He didn't think the situation was funny.

Then there was no more time for thinking. One of the ghouls came straight at Emlyn, and he dodged away backwards, barely managing to evade its clumsy swipe. Its arms were long, out of proportion with its body, and its extended reach almost caught him. Emlyn had no room for finesse and the ghoul had nowhere to go. He swung his blade and opened up a deep gash in the ghoul's side.

It staggered and backed off a little, but Emlyn's swing had put him off balance. As the ghoul lunged at him with the other long arm he was barely able to duck out of the way, and it clipped his shoulder with its blackened and filthy claws. A glancing blow, one that Emlyn barely felt. He prepared to catch himself and pivot upright again for his next thrust – but his muscles seemed to have locked.

Confused, and with dawning horror, Emlyn continued his fall, stiff as a board and completely helpless.

Ensa had stayed back behind the fighters, muttering and flicking her fingers in practised and precise gestures as she drew into her mind the power of the spell she'd prepared for this eventuality. Reassured by the departure of the ghost and the warm feeling of magic flowing between them, Star clawed her way up the half-orc's back and onto her shoulder, but Ensa barely felt her little claws.

She paused before completing the spell, finger ready to point at her chosen target. But which should she choose? Who needed the help?

Tynan and Shadow had a ghoul between them. They were experienced fighters and well-used to watching each other's backs, so they'd be alright. Sabra, in the centre, was alone and fighting unarmed – but the monk was running rings around her bemused undead opponent, her fiery hair and graceful body a blur in the flickering torchlight, raining in blows from every side. But right in front of Ensa, a huge gap was opening up in the ranks of her friends.

She pointed over Emlyn's descending head and shouted the last words of her incantation.

To Emlyn the fall felt slow, and almost graceful. He could see the ghoul looming over him, teeth and eyes gleaming, and noticed dreamily how little blood was dripping from the wound he'd made – as if it was was clinging to the thin, dark flesh, reluctant to pour away. There seemed to be something wrong with his hearing. As if he was falling into water, the sounds of the fighting, that had been ringing in his ears only seconds ago, were beginning to fade out. Somewhere, a long way off, he thought that he heard someone shouting.

Then, as the ghoul drew back its lips in a vicious snarl, revealing all its pointed teeth, a jet of green light shimmered across Emlyn's restricted vision and hit the creature full on the chest. For a minute it stood there, stupidly, with the strange fire blossoming on its torso. Then it fell away backwards, out of his sight.

Glancing across the corridor, Ensa saw Shadow withdraw his rapier from the crumpled form of the ghoul he and Tynan had fought. The ranger had already turned away to aid Sabra in finishing off the third and last creature, and the half-orc saw that they wouldn't need her help. She crouched down beside Emlyn, who was lying on his back, eyes staring furiously at the ceiling, but he wasn't badly hurt. She'd known that.

She heard the muffled thump as the last ghoul hit the floor, and glanced up briefly to see Tynan and Shadow cleaning their blades while Sabra picked up the torch, stepping carefully over the corpses with her bare feet. Then all three came and joined her, forming a little huddle around Emlyn's prone form.

Tynan ran a knowledgeable eye over his cousin's body. 'He's all right,' he said. 'Barely scratched. So why…?'

'Ghouls,' said Ensa. 'Paralytic touch. It'll wear off in a couple of minutes.' She glanced up at Sabra for confirmation and received a smile and a nod from the monk.

'And nobody else is hurt?' asked Tynan, glancing around the group and taking in nods of confirmation from everybody. 'Good. We'll wait, then. Ensa, take a look round – there aren't any more of those things, are there?'

Ensa stood up, reaching a hand up to steady Star on her shoulder as she moved, and looked down the crypt, into the depths where her vision faded out into black and white and finally into complete darkness. 'I can't see any.'

'Good,' said Tynan, again. 'Keep your eyes open. And yours, Shadow.'

The elf gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, looking around the group and out into the limits of the shadowy torchlight where the humans' vision was defeated. Ensa's eyes followed him curiously. There was some kind of mystery about the elf – and the half-orc loved nothing more than to uncover mysteries.

Leave him alone, she scolded herself. His life is his own business, not yours. Besides, you have a puzzle of your own to solve. How did it go? She picked up her parchment and charcoal from where she'd dropped them, brushing away the grey dust clinging to them. A house as old as ages…

Emlyn climbed on board the boat, scrambling forwards over the crates and barrels that the little provisioning vessel had brought to Graveisle, and sat himself down at the prow facing the sparkling waves and with his back firmly turned towards the sheer cliffs of the island of the dead.

He was still burning up with embarrassment about being paralysed. Tynan had told him it could happen to anyone; Sabra had said that it had happened to her twice; but it didn't make Emlyn feel better. He knew that he had shown exactly how much of a rookie he was, managing to get himself incapacitated by an enemy that all the others had handled with ease.

Perhaps Tynan had known some of what was going through Emlyn's mind, because he'd given his cousin's shoulder a squeeze and let the younger man scramble off and find time to think while he turned to bid Sabra – who had escorted them back down to the dock – farewell. Shadow had said nothing at all, and Emlyn knew that the elf was despising him for his uselessness.

It was scorching hot, and Emlyn felt his clothes sticking to his skin under the weight of his mail. He jangled when he walked as well, for all the world as if he was wearing a set of bells, not armour. He hated it. Why had he thought he wanted to be an adventurer? He comforted himself with the thought that it would be much cooler on the water.

Emlyn listened with half an ear to his cousin's conversation. They'd barely had time to collect their thoughts after leaving the graveyard when Sabra had warned them that if they didn't want to remain on Graveisle another week – or until someone hired a boat to come to the island – they'd have to catch the little provisions ship before it left. They'd had to rush through sketchy farewells to Ensa, who'd been left up in the main courtyard, and come straight down the narrow cliff staircase at precipitous speeds. Emlyn hadn't been sorry not to have time to talk to the half-orc. She'd saved his life when he'd been weak and useless, and he could feel his face beginning to burn every time she so much as glanced in his direction.

'Thank you for all your help,' Tynan was saying. 'And convey our thanks to the Abbot as well, of course. Give him my sincere apologies we weren't able to stay and speak to him again.'

'I will,' said Sabra. She bowed, her bright hair glinting in the sunlight. 'It has been an honour and a privilege to fight alongside you. You will always be welcome here on Graveisle.' She turned to the captain of the boat, and smiled at him. 'And thank you as always for your invaluable services. You'll be heading back to Northport?'

'Aye, Mis' Sabra, an' I'll be seein' you again nex' week as usual.' He turned to Tynan. 'An' if you can get aboard now, Mis' Sabra'll cast us off an' we can be goin'.'

Tynan nodded, and he and Shadow stepped lightly aboard. Emlyn felt the little ship rock under their weight and he shifted instinctively to balance himself on the rolling deck. It was good to be back at sea.

'A'right,' called the captain. 'Everyone ready?'

'Wait!' The shout came from some distance off. Everyone swivelled their heads to look back up to the cliff.

Ensa was running down the path, robes flapping around her huge, ungainly figure as she swung round the sharp bends. A bag was slung over her shoulder, and she held a staff in one hand. The other hand clutched Star to her as she ran.

She didn't have enough breath to shout again. When she arrived at the water's edge, the half-orc breathed heavily for a couple of seconds, then gasped, 'I'm coming too. He talked about a house, so I'm going to examine his. Might be something there. Northisle. That's where you're going, right?'

'Aye, that's it,' grunted the captain, who was beginning to be seriously annoyed by these constant interruptions. 'An' I'd like to get there today, so if you could come aboard – half-orc.'

Ensa's face went blank. 'Right,' she said, flatly. Emlyn saw the muscles of the wizard's throat move as she swallowed, then slung her bag aboard and, clinging to Star, hitched up the skirts of her robe and stepped gingerly onto the little ship. She sat down hurriedly in the centre of the boat as it rocked under her weight.

Emlyn whipped his head back round, so that he was staring out to sea, before Ensa should look in his direction. A part of him scolded himself. You're being childish and ungrateful. But it didn't help him decide what to do.

Maybe I should go and talk to her. Emlyn risked another glance round as Sabra cast them off from the quayside and the little ship slipped away. Their speed picked up, waves lapping at the bow, and Emlyn could feel through the deck the humming vibration of the keel. Forgetting his dilemma for a minute he smiled, turning his face up into the salty wind.

Behind him the captain called, 'Ready to go about?'

Emlyn felt the deck rock as people shifted around. He heard someone stumble and one of the crew members, a blue-eyed elf who must have come from Leafisle, cursed loudly. 'Find yourself somewhere out of the way!' the elf commanded. 'Get up in the bows where that lad is.'

Emlyn turned his head to see who had been sent to join him, and blinked as he saw Ensa making her way towards him. The half-orc was clutching Star fiercely against her and stepping awkwardly and slowly between the crates and sacking on deck. Her face had paled to a light grey.

Emlyn frowned and began to climb to his feet. 'Are you alright? You look a bit –'

As he moved, the little ship came out from the lee of Graveisle and heeled over smartly as she picked up the wind. Emlyn automatically shifted his weight to match the tilt of the deck, but Ensa was caught off balance. As they reached the open water and little ship began pitching and tossing in earnest, the half-orc sprawled onto the deck. Star squeaked in protest and wriggled free of Ensa's hold, running easily across the swaying deck to shelter amongst a heap of crates that were covered in netting and lashed to the deck.

'Here, let me help,' Emlyn hurried over to the half-orc and took her arm, steadying her as she climbed back to her feet. 'Come forward of the mast, where we won't have to worry about the boom going over.' He half-dragged the stumbling wizard into a clear space. 'Sit down. Are you hurt?'

'No.' Ensa shook her head. 'Seasick. I hate boats.' She groaned and clutched her stomach as the ship rolled.

Emlyn blinked. 'But how could anyone – oh, never mind.' The half-orc did look really ill.

'How long until we get to Northisle?'

Emlyn glanced around. He could already see little Fireisle approaching. 'Three, four hours in a nice brisk wind like this.'

'Nice brisk wind!' Ensa groaned again.

Emlyn added hurriedly, 'But it'll be much calmer once we're among the Islands. Graveisle hasn't much shelter, but once we get into Whaleisle's lee and then into the channel between Fireisle and Windisle the waves'll die down a lot. Then we're sailing up past the Inner Isles with all the Islands in between us and open sea. That's flat as a millpond. It'll be a lot better there.'

He was right, thought Ensa, although she was ready to take issue with Emlyn's definition of 'flat as a millpond'. From her point of view the boat was still rolling alarmingly, and her stomach heaving with it, but she felt well enough to sit up and take notice of the scenery and the screaming flocks of gulls wheeling above the Islands.

'Feeling better?' asked Emlyn, anxiously.

Ensa looked up at the young man, who was sitting on a crate and looking down at her with worried eyes, his hair ruffled by the breeze. She managed a weak smile. 'Much. Thanks, Emlyn – I would've been stuck without you.'

'Oh, no, that's alright,' Emlyn said, hurried and awkward. 'Uh – Ensa – I – uh – you saved my life. In the graveyard.'

'Oh, you don't have to thank me,' Ensa said, just as fast. 'Anyone would've done that.'

'Yeah, but you were the one who did,' Emlyn said earnestly, leaning down towards her, and then coloured up. 'Uh…'

They stared at each other for a second, caught in an awkward silence. Then a gust of wind caught the boat and it tilted sharply, bringing the contents of Ensa's stomach leaping up into her throat with an acid taste of bile. She groaned and shut her eyes, willing herself not to throw up.

There was a pause, and then she felt Emlyn's hard, mail-clad arm slide hesitantly around her to support her. Ensa leant on him gratefully.

Even in the midst of her discomfort, she had time for the thought, Even if I leave this afternoon and never meet Emlyn again, I think I've made a friend.