Loyalty of the Tiefling

by JHMLYNDALE

The events of Mask of the Betrayer, but with the twist of Neeshka having managed to follow her harbour-boy… who is hers rather than Elanee's. Prologue, 25 chapters, Epilogue.

7. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Days passed in calm. Blake spent a lot of time meditating and layering extra barriers around his hunger, suppressing it to his will. The laundry was done and despite the chill air did dry in the rigging. Gann grumbled when Blake insisted on him retreating into the deckhouse while Neeshka bathed in the lake water Blake magically warmed. This was almost spoiled by giggles from Neeshka that she barely prevented. She was not modest so she would have been happy for Gann to stay on deck as long as he didn't stare too much, and the woebegone look Gann cast her showed he knew this and was grumbling as part of them both teasing her harbour-boy. Blake seemed happy though with having prevented a non-existent threat to Neeshka's modesty so they let him have that triumph. If it distracted him from his problems to think he needed to protect Neeshka against Gann then she was willing to pretend to not be immune to the flattery that Gann was willing to provide.

"Hrnh," Okku mused as Blake checked he had packed everything. "It will be good to get off this boat, little one. It was hardly designed to accommodate a spirit of my…stature."

"Aye, was fortunate they gave us a witch-boat. With the size of you, my friend, and the amount of room on deck it would have been difficult trying to move around adjusting things by hand rather than magic."

There was a few minutes silence aside from the hiss of water past the hull and the creaking of rope and wood of the Witchboat. Blake peered ahead until Okku suddenly raised his great head and sniffed at the air. "Spawn of Hags, do you scent that?" he demanded to Gann.

"I scent little but how your fur has got damp despite it being of spirit energy, god of bears…" Gann replied, moving to join them, "no, wait. Yes, I think I do."

"Scent what?" asked Blake, turning back and away from looking along their path.

"Your curse is like a rock in a fast flowing stream, away from you the flow is swift but clear and glimpses may be had of the fish or streambed. Around you though the flow foams and tumbles…"

"What the long-winded shaman is trying to say, little one," Okku interrupted, "is that all is not right in the Ashenwood but we could not scent it over your curse until we got close."

"If I did not know better, which of course I do, the turmoil is such I'd almost fear another spirit-eater afflicted the Ashenwood," commented Gann. "But there is only ever one bearer of that curse at one time and we know where he is."

Blake closed his eyes for a moment and cursed to himself, almost, under his breath. A slender hand slid onto his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Blake opened his eyes and turned his head to look into the sweet face of his beloved. The sight of her, as always, buoyed his spirits.

"You thinking they'll want us to solve the problems?" Neeshka asked sympathetically.

"Yes," replied Blake with a half-smile, "though I was also thinking that if they have problems of their own the 'hard bitten Witch distrustful of foreigners' will be even less inclined to spare us any time."

"Come, come," Gann chided him, "if you were expecting any time, or any aid, then you were showing more optimism than I gave you credit for."

The Witchboat continued to sail and approach the jetty. Blake wondered if he should don more armour, whether he had the time or the need to try to wear more than the chain shirt he had on. It would not take long to buckle on the Mithril breast and back plate of his full armour over the chain that was normally under them. Then it was too late as the garrison came within sight and a wry smile came to Blake's face.

"Turmoil you said Gann?"

"Indeed, and the garrison being under attack would certainly qualify."

There was a great splash and the Witchboat rocked alarmingly as Okku moved and dove over the side. He began swimming vigorously to shore and Blake wished they'd tied a rope to him as he'd heard stories of fishermen using large dogs to tow a dinghy in. "Witch-boat, bring us into the jetty with haste."

Ropes writhed and the mainsail unfurled a little so the Witchboat picked up speed. Blake cast one last look at the deckhouse where the rest of his armour was, then shrugged, pulled up his chainmail hood, and buckled on his helmet and shield. Okku had reached the shore already and was bounding through the snow towards the giant plant creatures, Treants and Shambling Mounds, that looked to be trying to force their way through the nearside gate. Despite Gann's comment on the smell of damp fur his spirit form seemed to have not got wet in swimming so there was no spray of water from his fur as he ran.

Blake braced himself to keep his balance and then with a thump the Witchboat struck the jetty. Had Blake not ordered haste this would have been a slower gentler docking. The Witchboat's ropes writhed again as it furled its sails and before it could bounce off too far from the impact Blake jumped across, resolving to check for leaks in case some planks had been jarred apart. One foot slid slightly on the ice that had formed from snow and frozen lake spray but Blake kept on his feet. Neeshka jumped across and made it look so easy Gann was not as cautious as he should have been, he still stayed on his feet but there was a thud as he slammed his spear butt down like a walking staff to stop his fall.

"Witchboat, secure yourself," Blake ordered.

Ropes whipped out from the Witchboat like the tentacles of some sea-monster or huge striking snakes and wrapped themselves around mooring posts. Neeshka stepped back a little as the ropes went taut and began pulling the Witchboat back in the foot or two it had drifted away from the jetty. Blake was already trotting towards the shore and the cleared path up to the garrison, drawing his sword as he went.

"It… looks like Okku needs little aid," commented Blake as he assessed the fight ahead, "but we may as well contribute."

"That does seem polite," Gann replied, "he might take it amiss if we simply stand by and cheer."

Neeshka frowned a little as she looked at what they were going to fight. This looked more a job for an axe, or a clumsy sword like her harbour-boy's, that could hack things apart rather than a delicate blade with a delicate owner like her. The guardians in Okku's barrow had been annoying enough with making there no point in being able to stab through chinks in armour into vital organs, and at least they had been soft and not that large. Still, as little as she cared if Okku took standing by amiss, she was going to 'contribute' because there was no way in the Hells she was going to let Blake fight without her help.

Blake paused a moment and Neeshka knew what was coming. To her lack of surprise he muttered a familiar invocation and a ball of flame formed and split and arced away from him as he cast Firebrand. The fireballs spent themselves against the plant-creatures but they were cold and damp and, though they smouldered a little, they did not catch fire. It did however get their attention and one Shambling Mound made the mistake of turning to look back down the path at where the fire had come from.

Okku moved, one great paw swinging around through the back of the Shambling Mound's legs like a scythe through grass. Chunks of shredded greenery flew and the Shambling Mound fell backwards to sprawl in the snow. Okku pounced and landed on its chest where he started clawing at it like a Badger digging and swiftly making a large hole as he hollowed out the Mound. A Treant creaked forward, one arm rising to strike and drive the wicked looking spikes of its branch-fingers into Okku. As these came down to impale Okku though the bear-god moved again and off the Mound's ruined chest to one side and back.

The branch-fingers sank into the Shambling Mound and entangled themselves as their rough bark caught on the shredded stems that were all that was left of its chest. Blake attacked as the Treant tried to tug its hand free and unravelled its ally a little more. There was a thock any woodsman would find familiar as metal blade met wood and Blake chopped a large chunk free of the Treant's arm. The Treant pulled back all the harder but this and the force of Blake's blow was too much for its weakened arm as with a cracking the remaining wood splintered and its arm sagged like a tree branch hit but not quite severed by lightning. Okku circled back to join Gann and Neeshka as Blake also retreated a little and the two remaining Shambling Mounds and two remaining Treants, one now wounded, turned to face them.

"How do you fight these?" demanded Gann. "My spear would become wedged in them if I strike too hard."

"At least you have a spear," Neeshka pointed out, "and a little extra reach with it."

"The answer is simple anyway," growled Okku, "you fight them by ripping and tearing them until they stop moving."

Blake thought through the spells he had prepared and what might be effective as the plant-creatures began to move. There was one that would work better on these than it did on most foes, and it was generally effective even without the extra advantage. This would be the first time he had cast it in full armour but it had been worth practising in that roadside cave towards being able to do this. Without that to concentrate on through that seemingly long night Blake was unsure if he'd have been able to resist the sleeping Neeshka during their journey from Okku's barrow to Mulsantir. He muttered the invocation of Horrid Wilting and a mist of magic energy with strange illusionary plants sprang up around a Shambling Mound. The pitcher-plant like central masses of the illusions pulsed and spewed a stream of yellower dust into the mist. The Shambling Mound was large enough this effect barely caught its allies to either side of it but almost instantly its greenery wilted and shrivelled to brown, its plant nature making it more vulnerable to this spell.

Okku sprang forward again at the Treant with the splintered arm. It swung its other arm to stab at Okku with its branch-fingers but Okku turned and bit at that arm, his jaws closing over what would have been the forearm. Okku pulled back with the momentum of the Treant's swing, overbalancing it, and then released. Before the Treant could recover Okku was attacking, his huge claws scoring deep furrows into the bark of its trunk and keeping it off balance.

Meanwhile Gann had started stabbing his spear rather hesitantly towards the wooden face of the other Treant. He hoped its eyes would be softer than the rest of it or that at least those were truly eyes that could be blinded. Blake looked at the wilted Shambling Mound as it had collapsed into a brown mound rather than continuing to shamble and judged that dealt with. He moved forward into range of the other Shambling Mound and started hacking at it like a man trying to clear an overgrown path. Large flailing sweeps of his blade bit into the intertwined stalks and stems of the Mound. Seeing this Neeshka had joined him though the smaller more precise movements of her rapier were more like a gardener trimming a hedge back into shape.

The Shambling Mound fell as enough of it was separated from the mass for its binding life force to have too little body to entwine with. Blake gave it a few more hacks and then glanced across to where Gann was still holding off the Treant. The problem for Gann was not only did he have to worry about getting his spearhead stuck but the Treant was large enough the reach of its arm was near as long as his spear. Blake gathered his concentration and power and sent a Scintillating Sphere at Gann's distracted opponent. Like lightning hitting a tree the water of the sap flashed into steam where the sphere struck and a section of bark exploded away. It was not a large section or a deep crater but Gann nodded in thanks and began stabbing at the softer living heartwood that had been exposed. Blake looked back and saw Neeshka had made sure of the Shambling Mound and that the other was not moving; that just left the Treants… or rather the Treant.

Okku rumbled happily as he abandoned the pile of scrap lumber that had been a Treant. He spat out a mouthful of wood pulp and felt pleased that as a spirit he did not have to worry about splinters. Even if they pierced his form they would be rejected by it and pushed out by his healing like those arrows had been. Two long bounds brought him to where the Hagspawn was whittling away at the Treant and Okku swung. A huge paw slammed into the Treant opposite where Blake had blasted away some wood and where Gann had stabbed away some more. There was a crack as the trunk of the Treant bent and broke and split in two and the Treant died as its trunk cracked apart.

Blake looked around. Behind them the Witchboat seemed to be still floating normally so Beshaba had been merciful in not adding the accident of a bashed in plank and sinking boat to the misfortune that seemed to be afflicting this garrison. Ahead of them a masked woman was looking at two corpses that the Mounds had stamped flat and the Treants mangled with their sharp wood branch-fingers. The way she moved suggested a young woman rather than someone senior enough to be in command here, so Blake wondered who this Witch was if not Dalenka. Cleaning sap off his sword he sheathed it and began walking.

"Two more lost. We cannot afford this… not now," the young Witch said, mostly to herself, as Blake approached. "Dalenka said they wouldn't think to attack from this side. Where is she?"

"I am sorry for your loss," said Blake politely, noting he was right this was not Dalenka. "May Kelemvor…" Blake paused, thought about where he was. "Or the spirits judge them fairly and grant them their just reward."

"Thank you, and please, forgive my rudeness," replied the young Witch, apologising needlessly. "I have been greatly troubled lately. I am Nadaj, welcome to the Lake of Tears garrison. You see it in its final days."

"Final days?" Blake asked. "Your stockade looks sturdy enough as do your buildings, but you said 'two more lost' so I take it that this was not an isolated attack?"

"We are no longer welcome here. The Ashenwood has decided it."

Blake glanced at Neeshka as they both remembered the people and animals driven out of Merdelain by the spreading darkness of the King of Shadows. As deadly as the Treants and Shambling Mounds were they seemed simpler to fight than that invisible taint that drained life and replaced it with Undeath.

"That attack did seem unwelcoming, but…" Blake began.

"These attacks are only part of the problem," Nadaj said, answering the question Blake was about to ask of if there was more to it. "A few days ago, after the first attacks, we sent Berserkers into the forest with offerings to appease the spirits. When they did not return we sent more. We were stretched thin before that, now we are making our last stand."

"Hmm," mused Blake, "I could look for your Berserkers, I am seeking the Wood Man and thus need to go into the forest anyway."

"Harbour-boy!" Neeshka hissed in annoyance. "Helpfulness!"

"We need whatever good will we can get," Blake whispered back.

"You misunderstand," said Nadaj, "my Berserkers are not missing, they are gone, claimed by the forest just as this garrison is soon to be. Yet, if you are here to contact the Wood Man perhaps we are not at cross-purposes."

"I hope not," Blake replied, a twinge of suspicion in his heart. "If my actions help the both of us then all the better."

"You will need to speak to Dalenka first," continued Nadaj. "As a Hathran, a Witch, she is the only one who can grant you access to the Ashenwood."

"Are you not also a Hathran?" Blake asked in puzzlement, looking at the mask covering Nadaj's upper face.

"I am an Ethran," said Nadaj. "An… acolyte, you might say, to the Hathrans. The lowest of their order. The Witches' pecking order is based on age rather than talent. In time I will be equal to the other Hathrans, but for now I must be patient."

"I am sure your patience will be rewarded," Blake replied politely, surprised this calm commanding woman was the same rank as the rather fluttery Katya. "Is there any advice you can offer?"

"Most Rashemi are not welcoming of strangers and Dalenka is no different," added Nadaj, ignoring Neeshka's snort of 'tell us something we don't know'. "If she does not react favourably to your request we may need to discuss other options."

Blake paused a moment, discussing other options sounded like it had the potential to get messy but seemed better than sailing back Mulsantir without having achieved anything but to aid against a single attack. "I will speak with Dalenka then and see what welcome I get."

"Since she did not aid against that last attack," Nadaj pointed, "she is likely within that building, her house."

As they walked the short distance to that house Blake frowned a little as he noticed Dalenka was not the only one that had not aided against the attack. There were five Berserkers clustered near the closed barred gates on the other side of the garrison from where their brothers had fought and died. They had remained there while one of the Witches they served and two of their comrades had fought and, in the case of the two Berserkers, died. As important as it was to keep that entrance guarded the gates looked strong enough to hold for a time while two or three of that five dashed back across the compound to aid their brothers on the lake side.

Pushing the door open Blake felt some welcome warmth escape and past him. Near the door was a well-stocked bookcase and in a corner was a loom so it seemed this Dalenka had diversions other than the Keg that Blake saw on a table. The stonework seemed well cut and the warmth of the fireplace and stove not able to escape through gaps in it even without the aid of the tapestries hanging on the walls. Dalenka was not in sight so they walked the short distance to their left to look down the other part of the L shaped building and some of Blake's faint hopes faded even further to vanish at the sight of the body language of the Witch standing behind her desk.

"The forest has gone mad, and I can find no explanation," sneered Dalenka, her tone full of disdain, before Blake could speak. "I ask the spirits, I pray to the gods, I search within my heart. Nothing. To think all I had to do was wait, and the solution would walk right in through the front door, drawn here for reasons hollow as its soul."

"Hmm," sighed Blake, as unsure about being called the solution as he was about being accused of having a hollow soul.

This Witch was reacting to his arrival the same way a Noblewoman would react to the arrival in front of her of a plate of peasant-fare rather than a fine meal. Blake was aware of how much Tymorra had smiled on him with good fortune, that he was alive proved that, and was grateful to Milil for the eloquence he had granted him on occasion but Blake was not sure he was favoured enough by either God to succeed here.

"Nadaj said I should talk to you," Blake said, deciding to make the effort, "I need to speak to the Wood Man."

"I know why you have come, stranger, and the answer is no," replied Dalenka, her old thin lips tightening in hostility. "I will not abet this fool's errand of yours. I will not be the one who allowed you to complete the destruction your kind has wrought here."

"If I sought destruction," Blake suggested reasonably, keeping his temper in check, "would Okku choose to travel with me, to help me seek a cure?"

"I know what you are stranger," snapped Dalenka. "In the face of that who you are matters little and I am pleased that Okku is with you so when you falter you may be slain." She drew herself up with a magnificent sneer. "I no longer have the manpower to keep you out of the forest, but you shall receive no guidance from me. May you meet your fate in the forest as swiftly as my Berserkers met theirs. Good day."

"Madame," Blake replied, some annoyance seeping into his tone, "you do realise that if I, as you hope, meet a swift fate then all that means is the curse will pass to someone else. Someone perhaps less inclined to fight it rather than embrace it. Surely helping me in my efforts makes more sense than…"

"Your efforts will fail and whatever help I have given will then, at best, be irrelevant if Okku kills you or, at worst, be misused by what you have become," said Dalenka, impervious to Blake's arguments. "Again, I bid you Good Day!"

Neeshka stepped forward and Blake was not sure if she intended to give Dalenka the sharp edge of her tongue or the sharp point of her rapier. There was a temptation to let this happen but Blake placed a hand on Neeshka's arm to restrain her. Her eyes flashed at Blake from within her hood but she didn't protest.

"And good day to you Madame," Blake said, infusing as much sarcasm into his voice as he could.

With that they left, barely getting outside before Neeshka was glaring at Blake with enough heat to melt the snow off the building's roof. He knew the anger was, mostly, directed towards Dalenka and was on his behalf rather than his actions but it was still an impressive glare.

"She is not worth it," Blake argued, as calmly as he could under an almost full strength Tiefling glare. "She is not worth the breath to argue with. She is not worth the trouble killing her would bring. If she becomes a threat though, rather than just no help, then that would change but not until then."

Neeshka nodded reluctantly, being diplomatic was frustrating, but she didn't release her complaints as Nadaj was approaching. Besides her harbour-boy had said they would kill her if she became a threat so he wasn't being too nice and too merciful about this.

"Were you able to get what you came for?" Nadaj asked.

"I got access to the Ashenwood, though only because Dalenka felt she could not keep me out and she hopes I will die there, preferably very soon. As to finding the Wood Man I am on my own."

"Not entirely," Nadaj corrected, giving a small smile. "I am not surprised by Dalenka, but I will tell you all I know."

"Whatever you can tell me of how to find the Wood Man will be of use I am sure," smiled Blake in return, allowing a note of flattery.

"The Wood Man is the soul of the forest, you might say. If anyone were able to put an end to the attacks on the garrison, as well as answer your questions, it would be him. I myself went into the Ashenwood to try to speak with him only a few days ago, he was not there and no Telthor has seen him lately it seems."

"If he is the soul of the forest how could he be gone?" asked Blake.

"I do not think he is gone, not entirely," replied Nadaj, "it may only be that he is too weak to show himself. The Telthors spoke of problems deep in the wood. New problems that threaten its survival…"

Blake kept an 'oomph' from escaping him as Neeshka elbowed him in the gut. She didn't seem to have made allowances for that he was not wearing a plates over there, or was still annoyed about Dalenka, so this was quite a hard prod. Blake looked down at her and she grinned quickly up at him over her shoulder. He half-nodded back to her, neither of them needed Oghma's inspiration to see where this talk of problems was heading.

"The Wood Man's strength is not what it once was," added Nadaj, "and if the forest is weakened so too is he."

"So," Blake said slowly, hoping he was wrong but sure he was not, "to speak with the Wood Man these problems need to be solved so he will have the strength to manifest and to speak?"

"I believe that is the case, yes," replied Nadaj. "These problems are all new since the last time the Wood Man was seen…"

"Told you," Neeshka muttered quietly as Nadaj paused to gather her thoughts.

"I know," said Blake, equally quietly.

"The Telthors mentioned a number of large threats to the forest," Nadaj continued. "Blight has infected an entire section of it and it appears to be spreading."

"And the last attack, at least," nodded Blake, "was by blighted creatures."

"Yes," Nadaj agreed, her tone suggesting surprise Blake had noticed. "Obviously this is not just by chance. There is also word of a large fire far to the south. It is not known how this was started, we have had no lightning storm here for some time."

"Hmm," mused Blake, "you haven't recently seen a young woman? Fairly short with slender curves, neck length orange-red hair, possibly wearing a chain shirt?"

"No," Nadaj replied, sounding very puzzled, "nothing like that. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," said Blake, wondering to himself if that answer was a relief or not. Qara's power would have been welcome but Okku's patience might have not been equal to tolerating her personality. Or they might have got on well as they both had great power they were happy to release at the slightest provocation. The larger problem might have been Gann and how she might react to his seductions.

Nadaj looked at Blake for a moment before continuing. "The last problem is that a Telthor sanctuary to the east has been overrun by intruders that refuse to leave. The sanctuary has been a haven for Telthors for many ages, to lose it would be devastating to the health of the forest."

"I think I understand the problems," Blake nodded, "but if not…?"

"I suppose if you find yourself in need of additional guidance you might travel to the Immil Vale and visit the Red Tree there," Nadaj advised. "It is not far by boat… it lies in the mountains just east of the Ashenwood. The tree is home, you might say, to two of my Wychlaran sisters, Imsha and Tamlith. They died long ago but persist as Telthors and their wisdom is unsurpassed in my order." She paused. "Once you have solved these problems return here and we will discuss the means by which the Wood Man may be summoned."

"Indeed," Blake nodded in farewell before they moved away.

"Hah," snorted Neeshka moments later, containing herself just long for them to get out of earshot. "'Once you have solved these problems'."

"Yes," Blake replied with a wry smile, "I know. You were right back on the Witchboat, we ended up expected to help."

"The Wood Man is an ancient spirit," frowned Gann mildly, "he would be worth aiding even without your personal motivation."

"Exactly," Blake replied, both eyebrows rising, "so why don't they aid him? It is important to me to speak with him but his well-being would be even more important to them, so why have they not acted? I trust our skills but I doubt we can do more than they could have done with two Witches and a garrison of Berserkers."

"I think, little one," rumbled Okku in amusement, "that sometimes you do not realise your own power."

"I like it!" Neeshka declared. "Means he is still the same harbour-boy at heart."

"All right, I have endured that long enough," said Gann, losing patience, "why do you keep on calling him harbour-boy?"

"People from my home village of West Harbour are known as Harbourmen," Blake supplied, sounding distracted as most of his thoughts were on the problems. "Neeshka though decided on a more diminutive term for me."

"Oh," replied Gann, looking disappointed, "I was hoping for something more… juicy, but at least now that mystery has been solved for me. Only a few hundred or a few thousand left to go."

Blake nodded and looked across at the sun. "Getting dark, let's rest until dawn and set out then."

"You rest, little ones," murmured Okku. "I shall sniff around the walls. See what clues I can find and guard against any disturbances."

"Thank you my friend", Blake replied.

The night soon passed with Neeshka, Gann, and Blake returning to the Witchboat where Blake was relieved to confirm the hull was still sound. With Okku prowling ashore rather than on her deck the Witchboat felt rather spacious. They had been sleeping in shifts in the deckhouse on the voyage but that would be rather cramped for all three of them so they fixed up a sail as a tent over part of the deck to keep the snow off. Stones heated in a fire ashore took the chill off their bedding and the air under the tent and within the deckhouse. Blake had intended Neeshka to sleep within the deckhouse but she preferred the chance to snuggle, even if it was too cold to undress to do more, so Gann had the minor extra luxury. This had also answered a question for Blake as Neeshka had removed the various pieces of leather and cloth but left her chainmail on in case Dalenka tried to force them to leave, so he'd finally found out what the fine Mithril chain looked like without those.

Okku's grumblings of impatience woke them soon after dawn and with the haste the chill air induced they got dressed. Blake felt rather more comfortable being able to don his full armour and especially since his padded under-armour was almost as good at keeping him warm as it was at absorbing bludgeoning blows. Neeshka huddled into her cloak as they walked up the path to the open gate on the lake side and across the garrison to the closed gate on the wood side. Even she wasn't sure if this was for warmth or concealment, but the thick fur did a good job of both.

Blake looked at the Berserker guards who looked back at him standing there in full plate, his helmet securely on his head and his shield firmly strapped to his arm. Their eyes were slightly contemptuous, though whether they were taking their cue from their obnoxious leader Dalenka or whether their clan was one that felt too much armour was the sign of a weakling Blake neither knew nor cared. Behind him Okku rumbled slightly at the delay as Blake and the Berserkers continued to look at each other.

"Open the gate."

"Of… course," sneered one Berserker, "and may you meet the fate you deserve in the Ashenwood."

"Yes," Blake replied as the gate creaked open, "though I think we would disagree over what that fate should be."

"I also think so," agreed the other Berserker, "or that metal would be holding your corpse to bed of lake rather than being used to protect your soft skin and…"

"You noticed?" Gann interrupted before turning to face Blake. "They noticed how soft your skin is, how much care you take over it…"

"What?" asked Blake, before catching on, "oh, yes, all that time washing and massaging it, keeping the cold air and lake spray off, being careful to avoid calluses…"

"The hours I have to spend rubbing moisturising oils all over him," Neeshka said in her most sultry voice, "massaging them in and making sure that every part of his skin stays soft and supple…"

"That especially is a real trial from Sharess," nodded Blake, mentioning the Goddess of sensual fulfilment and grinning at the Berserkers, "so thank you for noticing I have soft skin. I do have to work at it."

The Berserkers looked at each other as Blake and Gann and Neeshka started down the path towards the Ashenwood. That had turned strange, battling with staring eyes and then trading insults they understood but having someone take an insult as a compliment and then his friends agree with him was not normal. It was almost a relief to the Berserkers when Okku growled at them in passing. Honest anger and threat was much more how things should be.

Snow had drifted deep in the forest and lay thick on the bare branches of the trees but the path itself was relatively clear. Blake was quite glad this was snow rather than having been trampled into ice. As they moved deeper into the forest there was a swirl of motion as ghostly animals began to appear and move about in whatever they would do now they no longer had the demands of flesh to occupy their time. Within him Blake felt his curse twitch and try to reach out towards these spirits; he let it extend itself and then clamped down hard. The curse struggled but its resistance only proved to it, and to Blake, that he could subdue it even when it had a yearning for spirits within its reach to fuel its struggles. It was still not broken to Blake's will but forcing it down when there were spirits to tempt it out felt more effective in breaking it than if there were none, save Okku, nearby.

Okku rumbled as Blake paused and he felt the ripples of the internal struggle. This 'little-one' seemed to be mastering the curse well and subduing it as a wolf would a challenger to the pack leadership. Even the strongest wolf though got old and tired or could fail to take a challenge seriously in his arrogance so the bear-god resolved to keep his careful watch for any such mistake. For now however this man seemed worthy of the oath to aid him.

The path wound on until they reached a large clearing in the centre of which was a vast tree with four smaller trees equally spaced around it. This arrangement did not have the randomness of nature but was not the most unusual part of the scene. "That tree seems to be glowing," Blake commented, pointing, "And the ground around it has no snow."

"Indeed, and this giant ash tree still bears its summer leaves," Gann replied, noticing another detail. "If the Wood Man has a home, it must be here… but as the Ethran warned I do not sense him."

Blake nodded slowly. "Let's explore around a little, see what else we can discover. There seems a path that might lead to the Telthor Sanctuary and if we are to solve the problems we have to start somewhere."

Neeshka smiled in sympathy at the weariness in her harbour-boy's tone. Even with his tendency to be helpful having to do the Witches' job for them after the insults they had thrown his way seemed to be grating on his nerves. Someone less nice, or more nobly born and more conscious of his status, might have demanded satisfaction in an apology or in the blood of a duel over even a few of the provocations he had endured so far.

"Is that a ghost?" Neeshka asked as a small lake came into view and a figure swirled into form.

"A Telthor, yes," murmured Okku. "He may know much of use."

"And Oghma willing be inclined to share that much of use," Blake commented, putting a diplomatic smile onto his face as they approached.

"You should flee from this place, hunter," said the Telthor, ignoring how heavily armoured Blake was compared with the lighter less noisy leather a hunter would prefer. "It's no longer under Telthor protection."

"Sounds safer then," Neeshka muttered to Blake, winking at him when he glanced down at her.

"Hrrnnn," grumbled Okku.

Neeshka turned and returned the glare Okku was giving her. He did not like the suggestion a place would be safer without the protection of the spirits of the land and felt that just because the Telthors in his barrow and then in his army had tried to kill Neeshka and Blake was no reason to make that suggestion. Neeshka though felt that was more than enough reason and that the fewer Telthors the better. Okku might have promised to aid her harbour-boy but the more Telthors they met the more chance that some would be hostile and the more they had to slay the more that would erode Okku's resolve to keep that promise.

"This sounds like a problem an Ethran called Nadaj mentioned," Blake replied to the Telthor, noticing but not commenting on the glaring match.

"There is nothing to be done about it," sighed the Telthor dispiritedly, "the Frost Giants are too many. Once there was refuge in the light of our sanctuary. Now the Frost Giants have taken over this part of the woods is open to any foul creature that crawls this way."

"Well," Blake prompted, trying to sound sympathetic and encouraging, "how did this happen?"

"I don't know why, but one day they just came through here, pushing aside ancient trees and crushing innocent creatures beneath their feet," came the doleful reply. "They took special liking to our sanctuary island. Their leader said it would be easy to defend once they took it. We fought to protect it, as we had so many times past, but this foe was too numerous and powerful. We were routed, to our great shame."

Blake nodded, noting that either there was a very great difference in forces or the island wasn't as easy to defend as the Frost Giant leader had said. "So, if I … remove… the Giants then all will be well?"

"Not entirely," the Telthor replied, "there is a little more to it than that. Like most things in this wood our sanctuary has existed for ages. Used to be that the spirit of a powerful Dryad watched over it. Supposedly its essence formed a barrier that nothing evil could ever cross."

"Used to be?" asked Blake.

"I couldn't say for sure, because it was before my time," said the Telthor, in the slightly defensive tone of someone who has only been told of events, "but it is said that hundreds of years ago an… unnatural creature came to these woods to feed. It came here not for flesh and blood but for the existence of the spirits that dwelt here. It was eventually repelled, but not before it tore the dryad spirit from our sanctuary."

"A spirit eater…" Blake hissed.

"You have heard of such a creature before?" said the Telthor in surprise.

"Yes," Blake said flatly. "Go on. Please."

"Well, without such a guardian our sanctuary has proven vulnerable to invasion despite how often we did manage to defend it," continued the Telthor. "In the centre of the island over there the remains of the Dryad's tree now hold a sacred pool. That is where the essence of the Dryad's spirit was housed and, put simply, it'd need to be replaced or this might happen again. Especially with how reduced our numbers are until some of us regain our form or more become Telthor and join us."

"Very well," Blake said with a nod. "We may be able to help."

"May it be so hunter," the Telthor replied, turning back to look longingly at the island he had been evicted from. A Frost Giant was just visible on the opposite shore and the gestures he was making as he saw the Telthor looking at him seemed uncomplimentary. Blake frowned at this and then led his group a little away from the Telthor and out of easy view of the island.

"Little one," rumbled Okku as soon as they were barely out of earshot of the Telthor, "these giants will not stand up to us. My claws and teeth and your spells and sword will drive them from this land."

"How about we tilt the odds in our favour first," Neeshka said tartly, disdainful as she was of the direct approach, "before you go rushing in?"

"What are you thinking?" asked Blake, talking over Okku's harrumph. "You have that gleam in your eye."

"Giants," Neeshka smiled, "they're good at stomping on things, not so good at seeing them sneaking around."

"And what good will that do?" demanded Okku. "You may be able to hide from them but…"

"Wait," Blake interrupted, an idea dawning on him and continuing to speak as the Red Knight helped that grow into a plan. "We still have the spirit essence of the Priest. If anything of him lingers in this essence then this would be a fine fate, and if nothing lingers then this would be a good use of the energy within it."

Neeshka's smile widened as Blake proved they could think alike sometimes. "I bet you fifty gold I can take that essence and put it in the sacred pool without the Giants as much as twitching."

"No bet," Blake said with a grin as he handed the essence over, "I have faith in you my love."

"Aww… thanks," replied Neeshka, deciding that compliment was worth more than the fifty gold, "but in case we are both wrong…"

"Then we do it Okku's way."

She gave Blake a last smile and then moved away. Blake tried to not stare after Neeshka in case the Frost Giants were able to see his attitude and insightful enough to realise what his staring meant. He knew also that a sapling the width of a quarterstaff or a bush only large enough to barely hide a small rabbit would be enough cover for Neeshka to be able to sneak up on him or, in this case, away from him. Trying to keep track of her would have been wasted effort. Better to move back to the shore and look for where the best crossing place was.

=x=x=x=
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Neeshka slipped from tree to tree and around to the rear of the island. The Frost Giants were quite visible as they wandered around and quite audible as they boomed insults and banter back and forth. She didn't want to take success too for granted though as it only took one looking in the wrong place and crossing the water would be a problem. A warm summertime stream she'd be able to lay herself down into and move across with just the upper part of her face visible between breaths. This looked icy though so it could steal the heat from her body if she moved slowly to avoid splashing or submersed herself in it too much.

With a shiver of anticipation Neeshka waded in and began crossing the water. The last time she had felt this exposed was when the thug-soldiers from Fort Locke had been taunting her while her equipment, including her armour, had been locked in a chest. It was not a comfortable feeling but as the icy water seeped through the cloth over her thighs and she shivered again she knew it was more comfortable than if she had tried swimming more than wading.

Fortunately the Frost Giants seemed to be more concerned with what was happening at the front of the island and in straining their limited imaginations for new ways to refer to the figures they could see on that opposite shore. Silently Neeshka came ashore and began moving towards the centre of the island, keeping in the great footprints the Frost Giants had left, and somehow always being on the other side of any tree or bush to any Frost Giant eyes. The island was rather small so she soon reached what she hoped was the sacred pool.

One tree stump looked much the same as another to eyes used to city life but it was a large stump and there was water collected in it. Carefully Neeshka slipped the spirit essence from her pouch and placed it into the water. The essence sank slowly and for a moment Neeshka wondered if she was going to have to fish it out again but then it seemed to dissolve. Energy erupted from the stump, arcing out and freezing in mid air into a barrier around the island.

"Yay!" Neeshka said, very pleased with her success and that she had chosen the right stump. A Frost Giant turned and looked at the stump and then, as Neeshka spoke, shifted his gaze to her. "Ooops?"

"You," demanded the Frost Giant, striding towards her, "little bug, what you do?"

"Erm," Neeshka replied, giving her best innocent demure smile, "nothing?"

"No," replied the Frost Giant, not fooled by this complicated denial, "you did something! I stamp you flat until you answer why things shiny."

"Sorry," Neeshka purred, "I don't think my harbour-boy would like me as much if I was flat." With that she drew her rapier and stabbed out and up and into the Frost Giant's crotch.

=x=x=x=
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A falsetto scream echoed across the island and to the shore where Blake and the others were waiting. Blake had rather hoped that providing a new Guardian Spirit would expel the invaders, that 'no evil could cross the barrier' would also mean that no evil would be able to remain within the barrier, but now he tilted his head. "Sounds like Neeshka got insulted by one of them," Blake commented to the slightly puzzled looking Gann.

"I shall renew my efforts to not offer insult then," replied Gann, his expression shifting to a wince of realisation, "in the mean time…"

"Graaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" Okku roared, charging off across towards the island, great plumes of water splashing up around his feet.

"Aye," agreed Blake calmly, following Okku with less splashing.

A Frost Giant braced himself to meet Okku's charge, confident in his size and strength that so exceeded any puny human or Elf. Unfortunately for the Giant the same applied to Okku who was at least as much larger than a Mastiff than the Giant was a man. Like a huge dog going for the throat of an intruder Okku sprang, teeth tearing into the arm the Giant flung up to protect himself, his claws sinking into the Giant's upper chest and his weight bowling the Giant over backwards.

Another Giant moved to help his fellow but as he took a long stride he felt his leg collapse and pain shoot up his leg. One of the little bugs that had been following the roaring colour-bear had caught up and now there was hole in side of knee and blood on little bug's toothpick spear. The Giant stumbled and managed to shift weight as he brought his own proper-size hammer around and down to squash little bug.

Gann declined to be squashed though and sidestepped the clumsy attack as Okku raised his head from tearing out the throat of the Giant he had downed. There was a grunt of annoyance from the wounded Giant as it tried to turn without putting weight on its other leg and then a bellow of pain as Blake slashed at its good leg. Gann saw an opening and stabbed forward at the undefended chest as the Giant twisted to glare at the new threat. His spear sank deep and into the Giant's heart.

"Go help your lady!" Gann snapped as he twisted and pulled his spear back.

Blake's mouth opened in protest, but closed again as he realised how stupid it would be to object to being told to do what he wanted to do. He hurried on towards where several Giant voices were bellowing curses and where, between those bellows, he could hear Neeshka's voice taunting them back. Jogging around a clump of bushes Blake's lips narrowed as he saw the cluster of Giants. They all seemed to trying to kick or stamp on one target and although the taunting from near their feet showed they had not connected this still angered Blake. As with gifts it was the thought that counted and the Giants' thought had been to mob a single target no larger than one of their thighs.

Whether it was the crudeness of the tactics or the fact these were aimed at the Tiefling he loved the rage in Blake's voice made the incantation to release a spell of Firebrand come out more like a berserker howl. Thankfully Mystra and other gods of magic cared little for the emotion as long as the words of power were clearly said or, with the extra power to avoid needing to voice them, clearly thought. Flame streaked away from Blake to split into individual balls that slammed into Frost Giant bodies and, in a couple of cases, faces as they turned in reaction to the war cry.

Flesh that preferred extreme cold blistered and burned under the impacts and the Giants staggered as Blake continued his charge. Although his opponents were much larger the power his belt of strength granted him compensated for their extra muscle and his hand-and-a-half sword would at least have been a shortsword for a Giant. This blade with this strength stabbed forward and through the side and back of one Giant's knee. The leg bent as the tendons were severed and the Giant fell backwards and into his fellows. Taking advantage of this Neeshka darted through the opening in the circle and deftly sliced the tip of her slender rapier across the Giant's throat to finish him before he could recover from the fall.

"I heard a scream," Blake growled, as the Giants spread out to try to surround him as well as Neeshka.

"That one objected to 'things becoming shiny'," replied Neeshka, gesturing and giving her harbour boy a reassuring smile.

Blake nodded as he glanced at the corpse and confirmed what he had suspected about where Neeshka had stabbed. It looked also that she had managed to hit one of the major blood vessels that passed through the groin to feed the leg muscles and that Giants bled out as fast as anyone else did if those were severed. Looking around Blake saw one Frost Giant who was gesturing and shouting and who by this attempt at leadership as much as by the crown on his head was apparently the chief. Not being inclined to let their enemies become organised Blake summoned some more arcane power.

The face beneath the crown became a mass of flame as Blake sent a Fireball into it. Eyes became blind, tongue and throat were seared as fire entered the mouth that had been open in mid command, beard and hair caught alight, and the Frost Giant staggered back, dropping his weapon as he grabbed at his face. This had likely put him out of the fight but Blake stepped forward. Whether this was to make sure of the kill or whether it was mercy inspired by the noises coming from the Giant's ruined mouth and throat he was not sure but Blake stabbed up and under the Giant's ribcage to finish him.

Behind him Neeshka sidestepped another clumsy attack from a Frost Giant and drew the tip of her rapier across his thigh. The magically sharp blade sliced deep, the Giant's sturdy flesh presenting very little resistance, and a spray of blood speckled the increasingly trampled snow. Roaring in pain and anger the Frost Giant turned and swung out again, his snarls redoubling as the little-female-bug that had refused to stand still and be stomped continued to refuse this. A slight smile came to Neeshka's face as she continued dodging and taunting the Giant.

Heavy footsteps and the crackling of underbrush being trodden underfoot or pushed aside heralded the approach of Okku. His eyes were glowing in full battle rage and even with his spirit form having no physical substance for dirt to cling to his muzzle had still become bloody. For a moment the Frost Giants seemed transfixed by the sight and then as Okku roared out his fury and this echoed across the Ashenwood the Giants broke. There was some perception that Giants must be able to move fast with their long legs, but just as Humans were not much faster than Halflings so were Giants not that much faster than either and none of them were faster than an enraged God-of-Bears.

Okku lunged and his teeth sank into the upper thigh and arse of his chosen victim. He twisted and tore as he used the muscles of his neck and his weight to drag his teeth through the Giant's flesh. The Giant fell and rolled over and over with his own momentum, crushing a few small bushes, and finding himself on his back with Okku springing again at him. Desperately the Frost Giant shoved his forearm into Okku's mouth and managed to grab a handful of Bear-God ear to try to hold Okku's head still and stop him wrenching his teeth back and forth. Okku snarled as they wrestled for a second or two and then, bracing himself with his front paws and against the Giant's own resistance, raked backwards with his rear paws. The claws of a bear of flesh worn down with its walking but Okku was a spirit and his claws remained sharp and driven by his great strength sliced into the Giant and disembowelled him.

Unable to run as fast as his ally Blake instead gathered his arcane power and uttered the incantation to cast a Fireball. Even as he did though his target reached the water's edge and suddenly thumped against the glowing air there like a bird hitting a window of almost pure transparent glass. The surprise of this did not disrupt Blake's spell and the Fireball sprang into existence and streaked outwards and into the small of the Giant's back as he hammered at the barrier. Flames licked up the Giant's spine and deep into his cold flesh that was even more sensitive to flame than most creatures.

Blake cursed as he saw the Giant driven forward by the impact and against the near invisible wall. It looked like nothing evil could cross the barrier from either direction so they might have to exterminate the Giants rather than simply drive them off. At least as there seemed no females or young in this group this was both more acceptable and far safer. More acceptable because Blake disliked killing the defenceless. Safer because if those were not here then these Giants must be part of a larger tribe and that tribe might seek revenge if survivors had been able to pass the barrier and to reach them. The Frost Giant's convulsions ended and as he died he suddenly fell forward as he became just a corpse rather than a living thing with a capacity for moral judgement.

Seeing there was no escape another Frost Giant had turned on Gann who had managed to catch up, following the trail Okku had left, and was going about the bloody work with an expression of distaste. He'd not say he was a lover rather than a fighter, as that implied you could not have skills at both, but as good as he was at the latter he did prefer spending his time on the former. The Giant swung and left Gann an opening, Gann's spear flicked upwards and the edge of its head sliced across the front of the Frost Giant's neck. It was not a spectacular wound, neither the gut strewing of Okku nor the charred holes of Blake's fire, but it was sufficient.

Meanwhile there had been one Frost Giant who had not run when Okku had roared. He was determined that he would stomp the little-female-bug that had avoided being stomped by all of them and that had cut him and continued to taunt him. Too late the Giant noticed that he was feeling a little dizzy and noticed just how much blood of his was on the snow. He staggered; one hand going down to his thigh wound and coming back up to before his eyes covered in blood. As he looked at this and finally realised how heavily he had been bleeding with every attempt to stomp the little-female-bug his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed.

Blake stabbed a Frost Giant in the back. The Giant had been fairly successfully fending off the snarling form of Okku but that had taken all his attention and so even as heavy footed as Blake was he had managed to get behind him and reverse his sword in his hand for the overhead motion. It had been quite awkward and stabbing someone, even a Frost Giant, in the back was not the stuff of heroic sagas but Blake didn't care. As the Giant fell forward and he let this motion draw the Giant back off his sword what Blake did care about though was the mess they had made.

"This is not good," Blake commented, looking around, and feeling annoyed with himself as he realised he had just automatically flicked his sword to shake off some of the gore and sent another spray of blood across the snow.

"What isn't little one?" asked Okku, sniffing about and biting down on the back of the neck of a Frost Giant who was only dying rather than dead.

"It is rather messy," Gann commented for Blake, "though I don't see how it could have been avoided."

"Aye," agreed Blake reluctantly. "They'd not have negotiated, or not in good faith at least, and we had nothing to offer in exchange."

"And why should they have been rewarded for their attack?" rumbled Okku, annoyed with the idea of negotiations. "Besides the Telthor spirits here are of warriors and well used to the bloody nature of any victory."

Blake did not feel entirely convinced. Bushes had been crushed and uprooted, snow speckled with pools and patterns of blood, the waters around the island rendered slightly pink, and there seemed body parts everywhere. This did not seem much of a Sanctuary to him but, as Gann had said, there also did not seem much of an alternative to having fought and killed the Giants. Save of course fighting and being killed and that was something Blake preferred to avoid.

Recrossing the narrow strip of water to the depressed looking Telthor Blake approached him again. The Telthor glanced at Blake and then across the water at the Frost Giant corpses visible. "You have our thanks hunter," he said without much conviction.

Blake nodded and smiled and led the others away from the Telthor who showed no inclination to cross the water and begin clearing things up. Whether he was waiting for friends or just waiting for nature to rot the corpses away, regrow the bushes, and cover it all with a fresh layer of snow Blake did not know. When you were an ageless spirit you might have a different perspective on time and be willing to wait those years to avoid that work.

"That went well enough," Blake commented, trying to concentrate on the positive aspect that they had fought well. The Red Knight had blessed them with a plan and Tymorra had blessed them with skill and luck so that plan would work and she could bless them with victory.

"It is good to taste the thrill of battle once more," agreed Okku happily, "I had almost forgotten it sleeping in my barrow."

"So where too now?" Neeshka asked, less thrilled by having had to battle rather than it being enough to replace the spirit-essence.

"Gann, Okku… any thoughts? Would us separating help you feel the forest better to track down another of the troubles?"

"No need, little one," Okku replied. "Even with the stench of your curse in my nostrils I can still scent a foulness coming from the south."

"Old father-bear has it right, but the foulness," mused Gann, "it is like an echo, at its core an impression left by your curse."

Blake nodded. "So perhaps more residue left by previous spirit eaters?"

"That was my thought," Gann agreed.

Cautiously they headed south and towards the foulness. The Ashenwood became even quieter and more eerie as they moved and Okku's low rumbles of distaste for what he scented sounded even louder by comparison. Soon they began seeing trees that even to Blake's insensitive eyes looked subtly wrong. He was sure that the moss clinging to them was not an unusual shade, that this was a shade of moss-green, but somehow it looked like the green of decay. As they pressed on things became less subtle as vile green mists started to surround the trees and Blake was again reminded of how the King of Shadows had drained the life from Merdelain.

"These trees…" Okku rumbled, looking at their twisted leafless limbs, "no insect or common rot is to blame for this blight."

"I am no Druid, or even much of a farmer despite my upbringing, but aye…" replied Blake, with some concern.

"That is one large Treant," Neeshka suddenly said, pointing.

Blake looked and, after some relief that it was lying down rather than approaching them with hostile intent, nodded in agreement. "That it is, and seems to be ill," he commented, "rather than twisted by the blight." They approached and as they did the Treant seemed to stir. Blake looked at how the vast form was lying and tried to choose a path that would let it see him without needing to move too much. It only seemed polite with how ill the Treant looked. Deciding on simplicity Blake nodded. "Greetings."

"Come no closer, little one," replied the Treant, gazing at Blake with its woody eyes. "This plague is a vile thing and I would not forgive myself if I gave it to you."

"You seem lucid, unlike the blighted creatures that attacked the garrison," Blake said before asking, "is what ails you the same?"

"The young can be impetuous," commented the Treant, "and this took them by surprise. I recognised the touch of this blight though and restrained myself until my illness was enough to restrain my movements."

"From where did you get this blight?"

"Get it? In the first place you mean? Oh it has been hundreds of years since I first felt its grip. A creature came through here of the nastiest sort. Seemed he wanted to consume this place, as if one creature could do such a thing. Well when it came time for him to consume me I turned out to be a bit more than he could absorb all at once. Left him vulnerable."

Blake nodded to Gann as Gann's thought was confirmed, that did sound like a previous spirit-eater. "What happened then?"

"I was lining up to crush him under my roots, but he'd left me weak, as though the sap had been let out of me," continued the Treant. "Dizzy as I was I couldn't see much of anything, much less crush it. But I did manage to fall on him and break his spine. Don't remember what happened after that but I think the Wood Man had sorted things out by the time I awoke. This dreadful pox was the legacy that foul thing left me. Good riddance to it I say."

"I thought this blight was a recent development…" Blake said with some puzzlement at the talk of centuries old events.

"This blight is, for months I lay on the forest floor, much as you see me now, but after that accursed creature left this place the forest began to rejuvenate as it always has. And with that the withering in my limbs reversed its course and my bark formed anew. It has been healthy for centuries. Several days ago though I caught a sudden relapse and scars that had long since healed reformed in an instant. Took over right where they left off."

Several days ago sounded an unwelcome coincidence to Blake, though if it was connected to his becoming cursed he did have to wonder why the Treant had not suffered similar relapses when other hosts became thus. Perhaps the Wood Man had shielded the Treant before but, being absent, could not this time. "How would I remove this blight from the forest?"

"Remove?" exclaimed the Treant. "Oh, I don't think anyone will be removing it. It's cursed, you see, and it's divinely protected."

"How do you know that?" Blake enquired with some scepticism.

"Some blights are from the land and some are from the Gods. It takes someone who's felt both to know the difference."

"That sounds like a tale, but one to be heard another time," Blake said. "Is there no way to remove the blight?"

"Doubtful, very doubtful," replied the Treant. "Most Gods who do this sort of work, Talona and the like, are not keen exempting anyone from it. Although were another God to take pity on the forest you might have some success there."

"There may be some hope," nodded Blake, "this blight seems connected to the spirit-eater curse, and that is very likely the work of Myrkul." The Treant didn't look to understand the implication so Blake continued, "And as Myrkul is dead he has less power to object."

"Ah," the Treant replied, not having been interested in which Gods had been slain by which but enlightened now. "If anyone would be sympathetic it would be Chauntea. She used to run wild through these lands in the beginning, before even the Ashenwood took shape. She might listen… but it would take a strong petition though. You would need to anoint yourself with a special mixture, one that stresses the dire need of the forest."

"I am no priest and in my home village we tended to honour Chauntea by living as good farmers rather than in rituals," Blake admitted. "What sort of mixture?"

"Ordinarily it would consist of acorns, leaves, and pure sacred water," the Treant replied, his voice musing. "But you will need to make a stronger case for Chauntea to undo the work of another God, even a dead one. If you were to mix two tainted items from the forest with the water then you should have her attention."

Blake nodded. "A Telthor mentioned a sacred pool on their island sanctuary north of here."

"That should be pure enough and, fortunately, I think one of my leaves would suffice as one of the tainted ingredients," continued the Treant. "Just about the only thing they are good for these days. I am not sure where you would find another corrupted ingredient, though I have heard there is a horrific blaze raging to the south of here. That may be a place to start."

"And then?" Blake asked. "Once I have these things?"

"Well, you'd simply need to mix them together to have what you need to anoint yourself," continued the Treant. "You would need to go to a spot that is favoured by the gods to petition her, I should think the Red Tree of Immil Vale would be an ideal location."

"It sounds so simple in theory," Blake nodded slowly, "let us hope I can be convincing."

"Farewell then little one, and good luck. Don't forget to take a few leaves, and no need to be gentle in plucking them."

He might have removed his gauntlets but Blake took the Treant enough at his word to leave them on despite this making his hands a little clumsier. Blake still managed to pluck fairly gently though. "Rest easy, I shall do my best," he said reassuringly.

The Treant did not reply, seeming to have slumped back into a daze, and Blake led the others a short distance away to where they could speak. Blake looked at the rather unpleasant looking leaves before putting them in a compartment of his packs and hoping they would not make too much of a mess. With a sigh he looked back at the huge Treant and shook his head.

"I was hoping we could avoid travelling to Immil Vale or to that great fire," Blake complained. "That Tymorra would smile with good fortune and the fire alone would not be enough to prevent the Wood Man's return, that we would not need to seek the Telthor-Witches' advice and spend yet more time travelling."

"You seem impatient," commented Gann.

"I seem as I am becoming," Blake admitted. "I have responsibilities back home, friends whose fate I wish to learn. I know that ending a centuries old curse is not swiftly done, but I do begrudge each day that passes."

Gann nodded slightly, "Be careful. Your dreams of home and former companions are strong, your sense of duty also, but be aware of the hunger within you. Second by second it grows and your urge to feed becomes stronger, enough I think to give anyone a sense of urgency."

"It does not let me relax," Blake agreed, "so the need to be doing something… anything… is always there. It is not just that but your advice is good."

"So what now?" asked Neeshka.

"If travel we must then we can only hope that Shaundakul speeds our way. I think fetch the water and then look around this section of forest," Blake mused, "see if there are unmentioned problems here before we depart."

It was not far back to the Telthor sanctuary and the presence of the blight seemed less oppressive now they knew the cause and had some idea of a possible cure. As they approached the island Blake saw some mounds in the snow he had not noticed while heading south. With mixed feelings he realised his eyes had been drawn to those mounds because there was a Wolf sniffing around them. It was good to see an animal that was not a ghost but where there was one Wolf there was a pack and with the lack of other living creatures the only source of meat in the area might be himself, Gann, and Neeshka.

Blake stopped suddenly and frowned. "Wait, that's a dog."

"So it is little one," Okku said, unsure what Blake's point was as it had been so easy to smell the scent of man on the beast.

Ignoring him Blake had started walking again, but towards the mounds. The dog looked at him at the clank of metal and with fear filled eyes and lowered tail skittered away. Blake felt a little insulted but kept on calmly approaching, trying to look non-threatening and realising as he got closer that the mounds were human corpses. They were covered with as much rot as they were snow but with how they had frozen it was hard to tell how long they had been there. Blake glanced again at the dog, whose attention had shifted to cautiously watching Okku, and thought he looked slightly gaunt so it could have been several days.

"Looks like this was a hunting party," Blake said, finding and examining a journal on one corpse. "They complain about the woods seeming unsettled."

"Aww," said Neeshka, crouching slightly to look smaller to the dog, "did your silly masters get themselves killed, did they puppy?"

The dog looked at Neeshka, conveying the impression that he was trying to decide both if this was a nice lady and if she was insane. He was a big strong hunting dog so he didn't need to be baby-talked like some pampered lapdog and he wasn't a puppy. There was also something wrong about the way this lady smelled, even if she looked nice she smelt of something not-nice. His tail lowered itself even more firmly between his rear legs and a low whining growl came from his throat.

Neeshka turned to Blake with a rueful smile, which he returned with sympathy. Dogs did sometimes need a little time to get used to Neeshka though, once they decided to make friends, they were always very happy with the result. Blake straightened and slowly moved towards the dog as he reached into his belt pouch for a piece of jerky, but to his surprise the dog reacted with even more fear than it had to Neeshka. He was fully armoured but there seemed more to this.

"Your curse little one," Okku rumbled gently, seeing Blake's confusion. "This beast also smells its foulness on you and stronger even than the air of the lower planes that surrounds your mate."

"Okku," said Blake, watching the dog try to watch all three at once, the gigantic bear, the part-Infernal, and the man who smelled even worse, "can you… well, can you… speak 'dog'?"

"If you mean can I bark and yelp and roll and show my belly, then no," Okku replied. "If you mean can I communicate with the creature, then yes."

Blake nodded and watched as Gann reached into his own pouch to break off a piece of jerky and after showing it to the dog lobbed it gently in his direction. The dog jumped and retreated a little but came back and after some cautious sniffs chomped down and then turned soulful eyes on Gann for more. Gann smiled encouragingly and threw the rest of the piece of jerky, which this time the dog snapped out of the air rather than even let it land. The dog looked happier, his tail coming out a little from between his rear legs, but then he felt Okku's eyes on him and as their gazes met the dog suddenly froze in place.

"The animal is confused," Okku rumbled as softly as a Bear-God could, "it can scent the wrongness the absence of the Wood Man has caused but does not have the ability to understand this. Ah, its masters that lie dead there were cruel, they abused it and so its fear of the woods mixes with fear of man. Fortunately as fearful as it is of us the Hagspawn's scent neither smells wrong nor completely like its masters'."

"Does he know how his masters died?" asked Blake, considering kicking the corpses. "They seem to have been mangled more than would be fatal but also seem to have not been eaten at all. Which shows what a good loyal dog this is despite them being unworthy of that."

"Images, memories almost swept away by fear," Okku replied, "there is little to be learned other than a feeling that it was the forest itself that killed them rather than any creature within it. The mind of this animal is not complex and holds little but instinct. It holds few answers."

"Might have held enough," commented Blake, "this gash looks like it could have been inflicted by a Treant finger. If Nadaj is right that the Ashenwood is rejecting their garrison then it would seem it is also rejecting visitors. We have even more reason to be cautious."

Okku nodded and released the dog from their communion. The dog shook his head and gave Okku a puzzled reproachful look, he was not sure what just happened but it had interfered with the nice man throwing him tasty things. Gann saw this and made a little coaxing noise to draw the dogs attention back to him before throwing another piece of jerky and managing to almost get the dogs tail to wag.

Seeing this Neeshka gave a smile as she finished looting the corpses. "Powerful light crossbow here," she commented to Blake as she stood and checked it. "Makes its own bolts and looks like these 'hunters' didn't much care how much was left of what they were hunting."

"One to keep then," Blake said absently, his mind still on the dog. There was not much food around but it seemed it would take too long to gain the dog's trust. The effect of this curse seemed stronger than his ability to coax it into becoming friends. Hopefully hunger would drive it to roam and find the garrison and the Berserkers would be friendly to it. Reluctantly Blake started walking again.

They had not gone far before the dog went back to sniffing at the corpses. Blake paused and glanced back, wondering if Torm was continuing to bless that dog with loyalty or if the jerky from Gann had whetted the animal's appetite and it was considering the source of food. Neeshka looked ahead of them and saw that the Telthor Warrior was still lingering on the near side of the water. She wondered as Blake caught up if he was tempted to emulate his foster-father Daeghun's sense of etiquette and simply get the water rather than ask permission. As she had reminded him on a few occasions though good manners cost nothing and being polite could make it easier to slip in the blade if you needed to.

"You have returned, hunter," the Telthor said simply, glancing again at Blake.

"We need to take some water from your sacred pool," Blake replied, "this is to help us beseech Chauntea to aid the blighted area of the Ashenwood south of here."

"Take what you wish," replied the Telthor, his voice making Blake wonder if he was grateful or simply apathetic.

"Thank you," Blake nodded, leading the others across to the Island and down the Okku trampled path towards where Neeshka had found the tree stump.

As Neeshka filled a bottle with the pure sacred water Blake looked around. The corpses had grown no less repulsive for the brief absence and the stillness of the island still grated on Blake's nerves. Something about this bothered him but it hovered on the edge of his thoughts until that very analogy helped him realise. Hovering. Flight. There were no birds here. His one major battle might have been against Undead who had burst into flame and denied the scavengers their feast but he had seen Orc corpses when retracing paths near Old Owl Well. He had heard the horror stories of old soldiers about those left wounded on the field and unable to move as the crows hopped closer and closer to peck at eyes and tongue. Here though there had been no flapping and no indignant caws of protest. Blake shook his head as he realised the dog was the only living animal he had seen in these woods and he was not sure if he had seen any wild animals since he was brought to this spirit-saturated land.

"All done," Neeshka said, breaking into her harbour-boy's musing.

Blake smiled to his sweetheart and got a brilliant smile in return that lifted his heart. Being surrounded by death was becoming too much of a habit. He was glad that his life had taken this course as if it had not then Tymorra and Sune would never have blessed him with the luck to meet her and the love they shared. Sometimes though he missed the simple days of semi-friendly brawling with the Mossfields and being worried about chores rather than ancient evils and curses. Crossing the water again they headed down the path towards the south.

"Gann, Okku," asked Blake as they walked, "will the spirits be able to guide us to the fire?"

"Some will have been driven away by it," Gann replied, "and they will have complained to those spirits they met, and those spirits will have complained to other spirits about having had to listen to complaints. I expect like ripples in a pool, or gossip in a village, we will find some sign before too long."

"And failing that little-one my nose is keen," rumbled Okku, "and the scent of smoke distinctive." He paused and sniffed, "As is the smell of blood of man…"

"Ah," Gann commented, "and what men would be in these woods? The missing Berserkers perhaps?"

"That I cannot tell," murmured Okku.

"I thought your nose was keen old-king-bear," Gann teased, "perhaps the dust of sleep still blocks it."

"Keen enough to tell whoever is wounded does not share your taste for effete perfumes, spawn-of-hags," Okku growled.

"Lead the way," Blake said, ignoring the by-play and checking his sword was still free in its scabbard.

With a grumble Okku did and a short walk later, though long enough Blake was impressed Okku had caught the scent, they came within sight of a confrontation. A man in leathers and furs was glaring at a deadly looking bald woman who seemed distinctively unimpressed by his attempt to intimidate her. This could be simple arrogance but despite the advantage the man had in size and strength Blake would not have bet on him if, or as was more likely when, this came to blows.

"Ah, it seems we have found a missing Berserker," Gann commented, "and he has a friend, or a foe."

"Both I think," replied Blake, pointing, "look there in the snow."

"By all the gods," the Berserker protested ahead of them as he also looked at the bloody figure lying there, "what have you done to him?"

"Be at ease, simple Berserker. It wasn't by my hands that your comrade's blood was spilt," replied the woman patronisingly before adding with a note of regret. "No, I arrived too late for that." The Berserker frowned as the woman continued. "A ten-day of praying to Malar for a path to power led me here. In my visions I saw Rashemi Berserkers astray in the Ashenwood and thus they became my prey. Unfortunately, the trail ended here with this dying Berserker. I am not sure how this happened to him, but it matters not. My job has been made that much easier."

"I see through your lies, dark hunter," the Berserker grumbled, "and you will pay for what you have done to Grigarii."

"Believe what you will," replied the woman dismissively. "Malar will savour the dying screams of you both while I slowly flay the skin from your body, prolonging your demise to sate his bloodlust…"

The woman's eyes widened as she looked past the Berserker and noticed Blake and more impressively the huge and colourful form of Okku at his shoulder. For a moment some fear entered her eyes before it was driven out by the desire for the hunt and visions of the glory hunting such prey as a Bear-God would bring. The Berserker glanced over his shoulder and his expression changed from dull rage to one of satisfaction that judgement had arrived for this woman.

"Please God-of-Bears," the Berserker said respectfully, "I beg your help against this woman who would hunt without respect for honour or the land."

"You have it," growled Okku.

"A fine hunt this will be," the woman said, a rather mad smile coming to her face as her excitement built.

She gestured and two huge cats appeared and flung themselves at Okku without the fear any sensible creatures would have for this foe. However sense was not something that Beasts of Malar were known for. The red markings that resembled blood sprayed across their black coats far better suited their nature of bloodlust and aggression. Unfortunately for them, although he did not lust for blood, Okku did regard their attack as an impertinence to be crushed rather than something to be feared. He snarled and sprang forward to meet their charge, huge jaws opening in readiness but closing on nothing as one cat twisted away to avoid them and the other twisted in to bite at Okku's shoulder. Feline teeth sank into spirit flesh and locked together as the cat tried to slow Okku like a Lion on a herd beast so the other could close in and clamp down on the throat. The bald woman's smile broadened as the beasts of her god worked together, but then her smile froze.

Blake had been a few steps behind Okku as he was not so eager to meet the cats, and especially not while moving. He would have preferred to stand and brace himself to use the length of his sword and Gann's spear to advantage. Now though he had caught up and brought his hand-and-a-half sword down from slightly above his head and onto the Beast of Malar clinging to Okku's shoulder. Putting some of his weight into the blow Blake drove the magically enhanced metal of the blade on and through the cat in a long chopping motion that sliced through spine and waist and almost cut it in two.

Jaws relaxed in death and the cat thudded to the forest floor, freeing Okku of its weight and letting him turn as the other sprang back in heedless of the other's fate. One massive paw swung and Okku bowled it back tail over head. Blood from the claw wounds drenched the animal's fur and rather than showing bright red like its markings it instead turned the black fur a damper darker black as it tumbled to a stop. By contrast the deeper wounds that had been inflicted on Okku's shoulder were already almost gone as his spirit flesh shimmered and reformed.

Blake tried to ignore the yowling and crunching as Okku pounced forward to finish his smaller opponent and instead to concentrate on the woman. There was not much to concentrate on though as the Berserker took full advantage of the woman's distraction to fulfil his promise to make her pay. The woman's speed was impressive but as she dodged a spear-thrust from Gann and an axe-swing from the Berserker she failed to completely avoid a rapier-thrust from Neeshka. With Malar's bloodlust filling her the wound barely affected her but this was enough to let the Berserker land a blow that as much smashed as sliced her skull.

"The monster is dead," said the Berserker, stating the obvious as he looked at the nearly headless corpse, "thank you for your help."

"Who are you," Blake asked, "and what just happened here?"

"I am Yurkov. My fallen brother is Grigarii," the Berserker replied simply. "We both hail from the Lake of Tears garrison. We were searching for another group from our encampment that has been lost for days. I went scouting ahead, but when I returned, everyone was gone. Grigarii is the only one to have turned up."

"That is bad news," Blake agreed, wondering what could have killed a group of Berserkers without a scout hearing it, "but at least your friend is still alive and you can return to report to Nadaj. Or Dalenka I suppose."

"You are right he is alive, but he won't be for long," said Yurkov, looking at Grigarii. "These wounds are severe and I think he is close to passing."

"They are not so severe they could not be bandaged," Blake protested mildly, "and he looks strong enough to perhaps recover."

"I think Grigarii would prefer to be left alone," replied Yurkov calmly. "He fought valiantly and died in defence of his homeland. A death can serve no greater purpose, and when a Rashemi dies in this way his spirit may remain as a Telthor, a guardian of the land. For Grigarii, as for me, it is a chance worth taking if the death is right for it."

Blake looked at Yurkov a moment. It made sense in a way that surviving rather than dying a suitable death was a risk. There was the chance you might then be killed in a less suitable manner and have missed the opportunity. It also made sense though to remain alive and continue in service and as a guardian to your country as a living man rather than a ghost. This was not Blake's choice however.

"I will respect your wishes then, and hope your friend achieves this fate."

Yurkov nodded, relaxing the arm that had tensed in case the ignorant foreigner had tried to force healing on Grigarii and deny him the cherished fate. "Grigarii has passed, I should leave and find the others. Farewell and thank you."

Blake watched as the Berserker bounded off and towards the Garrison. As Yurkov passed out of sight Blake cursed. "Damn, I should have asked him to keep an eye out for that dog, either on his journey or if it came to their garrison." Blake turned to the others. "Still, I think there is little more we can learn here."

"Let us be about it, little one," rumbled Okku, his spirit form looking more pristine by the moment as it shed the gore. "You need answers."

South they moved and into more trackless forest. Snow like this was not something either Blake or Neeshka were used to, the former because people simply didn't tend to travel through Merdelain in the winter and the latter because she was more a city girl and, as the name suggested, Neverwinter rarely suffered the ravages of cold too greatly. Gann too seemed not completely at ease as he preferred roads and the company of people, especially female people, to deep forest. However with Okku to guide them and break trail they managed, moving where snow was shallow rather than drifted deep, allowing the stamina of a god-of-bears to carve a path where this was not possible, and ever heading south and following Okku's nose and the chatter of the spirits.

Night began to fall and after carving out and trampling into hardness a nook in a snow bank Okku had the joy of watching the creatures of flesh lie around some more while he acted as windbreak and guard. If anything was stupid enough to approach them during that night Blake never knew as he slept soundly with Neeshka snuggled against him under their shared sleeping furs. Gann was less fortunate and slept less well without someone to share body warmth with until Okku had pity and channelled some of the power of the spirits into the Hagspawn as he slept. The spirits had nurtured Gann as a baby and now they nurtured him again through this cold night.

The next day even the noses of those with two legs began to be able to smell the great fire. As they entered a clearing Blake took the opportunity of being able to see the sky to look south and frowned as he saw that the sky ahead was a little dim with smoke. "Forest fires, I have heard, can be tricky," Blake said, looking to Okku and Gann. "Winds or hills make them burn one way and then another so they surround you…"

"Do not fret little one," Okku rumbled, "My oath to end this curse will not be spoiled by such as that."

Blake looked at Okku a moment longer and then nodded. Even with immunity to fire being led into the middle of a forest blaze could be fatal. Fires and people seemed to need the same air, where one would not burn the other would die and both drowned in water. Okku was not that devious though and unlike someone like Ammon Jerro seemed disinclined to kill bystanders in pursuit of his aims. Pushing on the smell of smoke became more intense and they all began to keep a cautious eye out for the orange of flames. Instead though they found the forest becoming brighter with daylight. Blake tapped one finger cautiously on a blackened tree's trunk and looked up at its bare branches and around at the charred remains of the undergrowth. Then he looked back at where this burning had abruptly ended and where trees still had even their smallest most easily burned off twigs.

"I sense a great conflict," Gann winced slightly as he felt the currents around them. "The Ashenwood lives and resists this fire, holds back the flames and sacrifices some trees to be burnt out and form a barrier, but the flames also live and try to find new ways to cross this barrier. There is turmoil ahead."

"If turmoil is ahead," said Blake slowly, "then that might be where we will need the 'tainted ingredient' for the mixture from."

"As charred as that tree is," Gann agreed, "it was charred protecting the rest of the woods, not tainted by whatever is causing the fire."

Even more cautiously than before they continued on and past the burned twisted forms that had been living trees. Soot blackened what snow had fallen since the fire had passed and melted that already on the ground and charred wood crunched under their feet. It was near as unpleasant as the volcanic slopes of Mount Galardyrm but at least here there were no Fire Giants. Finally there seemed a flicker of firelight and they knew they might be nearing the source.

Blake frowned in puzzlement as they approached the fire. Flames were playing around this entire grove of trees and around the centre of it. They did not seem to be consuming the wood though. The trees just seemed to be the centre of flames without being the fuel for them. It was like a Gnomish lamp he had once seen where flammable airs were fed through a pipe and a mantle of non-burning mesh glowed in that flame. A tap on his shoulder broke into these thoughts though.

Neeshka smiled at Blake when he looked at her and handed him her cloak. Crossing to the nearest flaming tree she turned back to face Blake and happily began toasting her rear and tail. "Aaaah. Warmth!" she purred as her tail wiggled with contentment.

"I thought you were just as impervious to cold as you are to fire," Blake smiled as he enjoyed the sight of his darling enjoying the flames. Sune had blessed her with beauty and in the light of the flames she made a picture any painter would have felt blessed by Deneir to capture.

"Doesn't mean I like it as much," replied Neeshka with a wink, "and after tramping through this snowy forest I definitely don't."

"This blaze is unnatural," Okku said, uninterested in their mating rituals, "we must do something to put it out!"

"Agreed," nodded Blake, reluctantly dragging his mind back to business, "it seems to be centred over there."

Neeshka glanced in that direction and her expression of bliss changed to a startled one. "Are those a couple of eyes watching me?"

"How could any creature of fire resist the sight of you enjoying his flames?" Gann teased.

"Or any creature," murmured Blake to himself.

"Suddenly I think I'll stick to a more normal fire," Neeshka decided, returning to her harbour-boy and reclaiming her cloak, "or a nice hot bath."

"And she does mean hot," commented Blake before approaching the eyes. There seemed to be a shape within the fire, some flames that were a barely different colour and flickered and moved slightly differently, and there were two spots of brightness that could be eyes. "Greetings there," Blake said cordially.

"Felt your presence, felt your birth, felt it loose my bonds," the thing replied in a singsong tone. "The time approaches, the time approaches, the time approaches."

"You… felt my birth?" Blake repeated, puzzled.

"Was bound in a red place, a place of fire, only heat, only scorching," came the reply. "Then a disturbance, a cool breeze, he is awakened, he is awakened."

Blake glanced at the others who seemed happy to let him continue speaking. "What are you?"

"Was a man, now a form. Was a soul, now a shape. Shape of Fire, Shape of Fire, Shape of Fire."

"Hrm," Blake said, reminded of how the King of Shadows had become a shape of magic or how Okku was now a shape of spirit. He frowned as he remembered something else the thing had said, "You say the time approaches, the time for what?"

"Scorching vengeance, burning wood, dying forest," almost sang the Shape of Fire in satisfaction. "His end is near, his end is near, his end is near. Forest spirit, forest essence, met him once now will again. He'll pay at last, burn the grove, burn the spirit, burn the jailer. Draw him out, smoke him out, draw him out."

"Draw who out?" Blake pressed. "What or what do you mean by the jailer?"

"I suspect it refers to the Wood Man," commented Gann.

The eyes seemed to flash within the Shape of Fire's face. "Sent me from here, sent me from life, sent me to burn," it hissed. "Undying pain, undying heat, undying pain. Helped many to find him, all was well. Helped you to find him, earned his wrath. He hated you, he feared you. He hated you, he feared you."

"I see…" said Blake with some puzzlement.

"It may be speaking of another spirit-eater that it guided," Gann clarified, "to its eyes you are merely another vessel that contains the same hunger."

"Same grove, and you return," agreed the Shape of Fire. "Weakened him once, now have again. You are the key. You are the key. You are the key."

"He is weakened too much," Blake replied, "I need to speak with the Wood Man and while your fires burn he is unable to return."

"Will not stop," the Shape of Fire chanted. "Burning brings him, makes him pay, makes him remember. I have suffered, I have suffered, I have suffered."

"Burning does not bring him," Blake repeated, "burning makes him not able to be brought as he cannot return. Stop the flames and he might appear."

"No," protested the Shape of Fire. "Burn the Grove, make him pay, draw him out, I have suffered, I have suffered."

Blake paused a moment as he tried to decide whether he could reason with this thing as demented as it, and then decided he could not. "My sympathies," Blake replied firmly, "but I shall put out these flames whether you cooperate or not."

"A wise decision, little one," Okku rumbled, less sympathetic than Blake, "this monstrosity must be extinguished."

"Fires will burn. Fires will burn. Shape of Fire, burn the grove," said the Shape of Fire, its flames managing to give an impression of stubbornness, "relight the fires, see it burn. Burn the grove, make him pay."

"If you try to relight those fires I extinguish I shall stop you," Blake told it, "and slay you if you persist in that."

"Am only half in this plane," the Shape of Fire pointed out mockingly. "Half here, half not. No reason to fight, no reason to be exposed. Common enemy, common purpose, your strength my strength. Will not fight you, will not fight you, will not fight you… just set the fires, make him pay, burn the grove."

With that the Shape of Fire began to retreat back to playing amongst his flames. Blake looked at it and then swung his arm in a long backhand arc. There was a clunk as the metal protecting his knuckles clipped the trunk of a burning tree. The Shape of Fire turned back to Blake and sneered as much as a mass of flame could.

"Punch the tree, cannot punch me," jeered the Shape of Fire, "cannot fight, fires will burn, burn the grove, make him pay."

Blake glowered at the Shape of Fire, ignoring Okku's noise of dissatisfaction that they did not simply charge and put the statement to the test, until the Shape of Fire, still cackling, retreated again. Casually Blake bent and picked up the piece of burnt bark that had come loose with his blow and led the others away and out of what was probably the Shape of Fire's easy earshot.

"This should be tainted enough an ingredient for the anointment," Blake commented, showing them the bark.

"Why have we not destroyed this thing?" Okku complained.

"Because he is likely right that we cannot strike him," Blake replied, before adding to Neeshka, "can I have the Sanctuary water please dear, no… can you unstopper it and hold it please?"

Neeshka held out the bottle of water and Blake began to break off small pieces of charred bark and crumble them between his fingers into the bottle. Gann watched this for a moment as the crystal clarity of the water began to grow dark and murky with soot.

"There are invocations, both divine and arcane," Gann said as Blake continued, "that channel great cold. We should be able to not only put out his fires but coat the burned-out trees in thick layers of ice."

"True, but that may not be enough," mused Blake, crumbling the last of the bark. "If he speaks true and he does exist half on another plane and that is, as it looks, some plane of fire then he has those inexhaustible flames to channel and reverse that."

"So, as you said, we will need to slay it to prevent that," Okku growled, "I do not see the problem."

"The problem is how to slay it," Blake pointed out before reaching into a pouch and beginning to tear tiny strips off the leaves from the great Treant and popping them down the bottle's neck.

Neeshka glanced at Okku and then decided to point out what seemed obvious to her. "If he's a spirit can't you just… you know…?"

"Hrmph!" Okku complained, glaring at Neeshka, as she'd expected, for the suggestion.

Blake looked firmly at Okku and met the glare with his own determination, "It may come to that, if we can find no other way to extinguish him." Yellow bear-god eyes and blue-grey human eyes locked until Okku gave a fractional nod and satisfied with that Blake conceded, "We shall look for that other way first though."

"As we seem to be heading for Immil Vale," said Gann, gesturing at the increasingly unpleasant looking concoction, "perhaps the Othlors would have some insight?"

"I hope so," Blake replied, using a whole leaf to push bark soot and pieces of leaf down the neck of bottle from where they had clung to the damp, "we would need to break this thing's connection to the fire plane or overwhelm him before that could replenish his strength. Maybe I should have brought that Orglash."

Blake took the bottle from Neeshka, taking the opportunity to caress her hands as he did, and sealed it again. He managed to give it several vigorous shakes before Okku spoke. The bear-god's mighty brows drew down in another frown as he looked at Blake.

"Orglash?" Okku asked, suspicious. "Do you mean the one that woke me and that I sentenced?"

"He does," replied Neeshka with a brilliant smile.

"It offered to serve me in return for taking it from your barrow," Blake amplified, not looking pleased at the colour of the concoction in the bottle as he checked the seal and placed it in a pack. "I left it there as I was still hoping to avoid a fight."

Okku rumbled, pleased that his justice had not been superseded. "If we are to travel to Immil Vale then I suggest we travel straight there."

"Nadaj said it was not far by boat," Blake said reasonably.

"Yes little one, but we will be coming back here whether the Othlors can help or not," Okku replied with determination. "Better to follow the path and walk to Immil Vale. Better that than to return to the Lake of Tears to use that cramped floating thing, float to Immil Vale, float back to the Lake of Tears from there, and then have to walk to here and back again."

"That does sound shorter," Blake nodded, "though we are not as tireless as you, my friend, so travelling further with some of it being on a 'cramped floating thing' rather than our feet does have some advantage."

"Hrm, perhaps," admitted Okku, "but trust my sense of the paths."

"I do, so, please, lead the way and let us hope the Othlors are more helpful than our experience of Witches suggests."

"That hope and a coin will get you a mug of beer," Neeshka snorted.

Okku looked puzzled so the first part of their journey was brightened by Neeshka's happy explanation and as each of them tried to come up with a better, or at least a new, 'what' and 'what' would be worth 'what.' The main problem for Okku in contributing though was the idea of implying something was worthless, by two things combined being only worth the same as a third thing that was only worth the same as one of them alone, rather than simply saying that it was worthless. That sort of subtlety was something he would have disdained even when he was still a bear of flesh rather than spirit but if the conversation helped the mortals in their walk by amusing them then it was worthwhile.