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.

13. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Even Gann did not know how long they might remain in the Dreamscape though they had a good idea of how long would be too long. The two of them took the chance to empty their bladders, not adding appreciably to the smell since the corpses had already done this, and to eat some jerky and take a good drink of water before joining Okku and Neeshka in the other preparations. Some of the corpses were moved off the platform to clear a more pleasant space for Gann and Blake and others, including the fresh Hag and Hagspawn corpses were moved all the way to near the doors. Neeshka smiled and moved back from the closed door that she had managed to lock, and out of the way of her harbour-boy and Gann.

As they stacked them to block the ways in and out of the room Blake frowned. "This is not really honouring Jergal and proper burial, but no more disrespectful than the Hags leaving them to lie and rot near where they fell."

Gann rolled his eyes slightly at this being a consideration as honouring those supposed Gods was no concern of his. Neeshka meanwhile was dealing with more practical matters and showed that she had not only recovered rather than simply disabled the trap from the room in the Sloop Inn but was also carrying more traps. These she arranged happily on the closed door and the semi-closed door and the grotesque barricades. Soon there were some painful surprises waiting for anyone who tried to force their way into the room and Blake could not put things off any longer.

Settling down onto his knees on a bedroll with Gann kneeling beside him he closed his eyes and calmed himself. Gradually a sensation of drifting away into warm waters began to slip into his mind and Blake relaxed into this and tried to flow with the currents. But then it was like some predator had been lurking beneath the surface, something that grabbed hold of him and flung him about until darkness rushed towards him from all directions. Blake held still rather than flail, letting his mind settle and his mental eyes adjust to the dark and then this cleared to reveal a familiar sight.

"Good to see you made it Gann," Blake commented, glancing around the back room of the Veil Theatre, "and that we are together rather than in different dreams."

"Hurry Blake!" Magda chided. "Or you'll miss the final scene…"

Blake looked at the dream-image of the Dwarven woman and then decided on a polite but direct approach. "Where is the Slumbering Coven, Magda? I've come here to find them."

"No, you've come for the play," Magda contradicted him firmly. "We composed it for you, or don't you remember? And we named it like you asked - The Betrayer's Crusade."

"That was not the play you were going to compose," replied Blake, quirking one eyebrow. "In fact you said your own involvement made it dangerous to compose…"

"There is something deeper in her request," Gann commented, his eyes a little unfocussed as he concentrated on his feelings, "an undercurrent. We should follow its pull and see where this play leads."

"And 'The Betrayer's Crusade'…" Blake nodded, taking the advice, "this tale we have heard from Kaelyn and from the priests and scribes of Myrkul. That we are hearing it again in this dream is strengthening some suspicions."

"Go ahead, step up on stage," said Magda enthusiastically, the dream-image feeling Blake's willingness to go with the flow of the dream. "We've reserved the Betrayer's part for you. You remember your lines, don't you?"

"The Betrayer's part, of course you reserved that…." Blake began to say at this confirmation of a link to the Betrayer, until he realised something else. "Hang on, you want me to go out there in front of an audience?"

"A tough crowd, to be sure. But they won't devour us," Magda reassured him, before spoiling the effect by adding, "as long as you don't disappoint them. Now… weren't you about to tell me that you've forgotten your lines?"

"Forgotten? I never knew them."

"Of course, the forgetting is in the script too. I'll set the stage and you can make up your lines as you go along," nodded Magda. "The Crusade has failed… the Betrayer's army is crushed, and he must give his final commands to his lieutenants. The dark god Myrkul is close at your heels. You must make these orders count… they shall be your legacy… perhaps all that shall ever remain of you."

"Fine," Blake said slowly and reluctantly. "I shall go out on this stage and hope this dream will give me some more insight."

"Ah, you have a dreamwalker's heart," smiled Gann, not being entirely sincere, "you swim with the currents, not fight them… if given the right prompting at least."

Blake frowned at Gann but before he could speak Magda did. "Not a dream, a play…or perhaps there is little difference. No matter, get up on stage, and hurry! The audience is getting restless."

With that Magda bustled off and ahead. After a moment Blake and Gann followed and saw the three actors of the Veil Theatre standing on the stage in simple costumes but wearing masks to represent the roles they were playing. That was not unusual but, unless the Veil normally had quite a strange clientele, the audience was. A Fire Giant towered over the others though he was outweighed by the far broader Hezrou. They both made the tall figure of a Djinn seem small and he, in turn, made a female Werewolf look almost as small as the rather cute ones the two Gnome sisters had turned into.

"As Magda said, a tough crowd," Blake commented quietly to Gann. "That is not Fentomy or even an echo of him though I think."

"Wonderful," Gann commented back, "just 'a' Djinn rather than a particular Djinn. That will help if they do try to kill us."

"I am Zoab, of white wings and golden brow," orated Wallace nobly, seeing their arrival, "born in the radiance of Celestia. For mercy and for justice I swore to bring down the Wall."

"I am Rammaq, the old, the dead," added Lothario, trying to put a tone of evilness into his words. "Thrice have I glimpsed godhood and thrice has that prize been snatched away from me. For the knowledge I was promised I swore to bring down the wall."

"And I am Sey'ryu, the vast and the glorious," said the actress, who in the course of the breakfast they had learned was called Amber Rose, "who soars the desert skies, blue upon blue. For the debt I owe to you Betrayer I swore to bring down the wall."

"The God of the Dead draws near," continued Wallace, turning dramatically to Blake, "and our battle is lost. What would you have of your generals?"

Blake paused a moment, thought, and then spoke with the authority that Kana's lessons let him put into his voice. "We flee, regroup, and finish this battle another day. The God of Death can wait."

"What?" protested the Air Genasi, Vesper Jinn, from the side of the stage. "That isn't in the script!"

"You're right," Magda nodded. "That isn't how it goes at all."

"No, you're wrong," Blake replied firmly. "Retreating to attack another day, preserving part of our forces for raids against the City of Judgment and as cadre to rebuild around, rather than wasting our lives in a 'glorious' last stand, makes sense to me and more so since I can feel this is how it went. That is the order Akachi gave."

"No, wrong again," contradicted Magda. "I told everyone you knew this part, but you've made a fool of me…"

"Boo! Boo! We want our money back!" called one of the audience members as Blake and Magda locked gazes. "The actor doesn't even know his part!"

"Something is wrong with this dream," Gann cautioned Blake quietly, "it is not coming from you but it is coming from within you…"

"More memories from the curse?" Blake asked and suggested. Gann nodded to this.

"Mm, perhaps we should skip to the final scene…" said Magda suddenly, some malice entering her voice, "where the Betrayer is captured and tortured and punished. He won't need to know any lines to play that scene properly."

"Yes!" Vesper almost hissed. "He'll only need to know how to scream…"

Magda and Vesper charged in from either side of the stage. Although rather surprised by this Blake's reactions took over and his sword hissed from its scabbard and around to smack the flat of the blade into the side of Magda's skull. This could still be a fatal blow, especially with the magic imbued on Blake's blade, and he was not sure why he should care about the life of a dream-creature. It still felt more right though to at least try to disable rather than decapitate an unarmed untrained foe. Similarly Gann brought his spear around low to either stab at Vesper's lower leg or attempt to trip him. Then a weight slammed into Gann.

The Werewolf had bounded up from the theatre floor, barely touching down at the edge of the stage before she sprang again, leaving claw-scars in the wood. Gann staggered as her claws dug into her leather armour and as he did his spear came up and the charging Vesper impaled himself. With his spear stuck in Vesper's guts and the Werewolf driving him to one side as he tried to fend her off Gann lost his grip on his spear. He twisted and brought his forearm around to shove across the werewolf's jaws and try to force her head back and prevent her from being able to snap at him.

"Madame, please," Gann commented as she tried to work her rear teeth through the thick leather over his forearm, or get her head back far enough to free herself from the pressure Gann was applying. "I generally appreciate attention from the ladies, but you are being a bit too clingy."

A deep snarl came from the Werewolf's mouth as she shifted the grip of her claws and tried to rake those on one rear paw through both Gann's armour and Gann himself. Although these scored deep furrows in the leather he was fortunate and they did not slice through and into him. Blake glanced to either side of the stage where the stairs were creaking as the Fire Giant and Hezrou attempted to climb them and then muttered a quick invocation to cast a Fireball at the Djinn. This did not seem to cause serious injury but did appear to stun the turbaned figure and there were a few moments before the larger opponents could finish trying to fit their huge feet to the comparatively tiny stair treads.

As Gann and the Werewolf wrestled it was hard to get a good angle for a sword strike against the latter. Blake made a couple of tentative dabs at her but both times she twisted and prevented that becoming a proper attack. As useless as Blake's efforts were in inflicting a direct wound though they were very distracting and Gann was able to take advantage of this. Getting a good grip on a handful of fur Gann heaved and threw the Werewolf aside, leaving more tears in his leather armour and a good size chunk of fur in his hand.

With a slight yelp the Werewolf thudded onto the floor and then slid across the polished floorboards of the short corridor to smack her head against the frame of the door into the back room. Gann quickly grabbed his spear as he could see just as well as Blake that the Djinn was recovering and that the Fire Giant and Hezrou had managed the stairs. Blake glanced to either side again and then gave Gann a smile that worried the Hagspawn.

"Follow me!" Blake called, running towards the front of the stage and then leaping off it, his sword pointing out in front of him.

Gann hesitated a moment in shock and surprise and then followed. The Djinn had been even more surprised and had needed to hurriedly step to one side to avoid Blake's attack. This had left the Djinn slightly off balance but as Blake landed and continued on a few steps he was unable to take advantage of this as he was even more off-balance. Gann though was able to judge his own jump to thrust his spear ahead of him and at the distracted Djinn. Again Gann lost his grip on his spear as he released it rather than be twisted around by the drag of it.

As the Djinn crumpled with Gann's spear through him Blake recovered and turned and swept his sword across the Djinn's back. He cut deep into spine and the back of the ribs and whatever organs the Djinn had beneath those. Despite the magic of Blake's sword the blade dragged enough through the flesh and bones for him to feel a distinct twinge in his wrist. The Djinn flopped forward onto his knees as the force of Blake's blow overcame the rearward momentum Gann's blow had given him and as he did the butt end of the spear through his chest dug into the theatre floor. The head of Gann's spear was already jutting from the Djinn's back but now a considerable portion of spear shaft was also driven through and out.

Gann looked at this with some displeasure as that would make it difficult to remove his spear from the Djinn and he would prefer to not fight the remaining opponents armed with nothing more than a dagger. Blake meanwhile took advantage of the Djinn's slumped forward, but supported by the spear, posture to bring his sword down and onto the exposed rear of the Djinn's neck. It took a few blows for Blake to manage to decapitate the Djinn and with each blow he also drove more of Gann's spear through the Djinn's chest. With an expression of distaste Gann realised it was going to be easier to pull the spear the rest of the way through rather than back out the way it had entered.

There was a thump as the Fire Giant and Hezrou jumped down from the stage and a smaller thump as the Djinn's head finally came free. Gann steeled himself and, bracing one foot on the Djinn's back, grabbed the blood-slicked wood of the shaft and heaved. With a slight slurping noise and a grating as the iron bands bumped against the bone Gann managed to wrench his spear free and stagger back away from the stage to join Blake who was also retreating.

"I doubt we can get out those doors," Gann cautioned, trying to not think about the blood smearing under his gauntlets.

"True, but that isle is not that wide," replied Blake, "and what is traditionally the enemy of fire?"

"Ah," Gann replied, and as the Hezrou and Fire Giant moved shoulder to shoulder towards them he called upon the spirits. He was still reluctant to ask them for such gifts and was beginning to regret having shown that he could. The spirits responded though and a Burst of Glacial Wrath enveloped both huge figures.

This seemed to affect the Fire Giant even more than the Hezrou as he collapsed where the Infernal did not. Shouldering the falling Fire Giant aside the Hezrou advanced and swatted one meaty arm at its tiny opponents. Blake was rather glad this dream-creature was not as chatty as Zaxis since one idiot like that had been enough for one lifetime. It had been a disappointment when they had gained Zaxis' true name only to find she was too stupid to understand what being told to stop referring to herself in the third person meant.

However these thoughts did not distract Blake from slicing his sword up to meet the Hezrou's attack. Enchanted metal met Infernal flesh and a shallow cut appeared across that arm. The Hezrou bellowed in pain and its blow went wide, deflected more by the pain than any force behind Blake's blow. Gann saw a chance and stabbed out to drive his spear into the open mouth where the Infernal's skin was not so thick. Metal of spearhead grated against bone of spine and then teeth against wood as the Hezrou's broad mouth clamped down in reflex and Gann twisted his spear in the wound and withdrew.

Blake stepped back in and drew his sword across the Hezrou's gut, putting his shield hand on the hilt and driving forward as if he was trying to push a cart out of the frequent axle deep mud of the Mere. This cut was a lot deeper than the one on the arm and as the Hezrou convulsed it drove its own bowels out through the slit. Stabbed through the back of the mouth and with its innards becoming 'out-ards' the Infernal fell forward. Blake and Gann sidestepped to avoid being squashed by this and then as the Hezrou twisted onto its side to make one last feeble flail at them it exposed the side of its head. Gann stepped back in and drove his spear down through the thinner bone at the Hezrou's temple and into the brain beneath it.

Meanwhile the Fire Giant slowly forced himself to his feet, his movements showing he was still badly affected by Gann's magic. He took one somewhat staggering stride towards Blake and Gann. Blake looked at this stride and his sword licked out and across the Fire Giant's knee. Skin and the tendons on one side of the joint parted at this light touch and the forward stagger suddenly became sideways as well. One huge foot caught on a hay bale and the Giant tripped, sprawling and sending other hay bales bouncing across the dirt floor and into the wall. Gann lithely leapt and onto the Giant's back, riding him like a harpooner on a whale as he started stabbing down and into spine and heart and neck.

Blake circled a little to see if he could help with this by cutting at legs or arms to hinder the Fire Giant's attempts to throw Gann off. Suddenly there was a growling snarl and Blake barely twisted in time, even with spells increasing his speed, to manage to get his shield in line. The impact still drove him back as the female werewolf plastered herself against his shield. She clung on and tried to drag it down and aside while at the same time trying to rake past it with her claws and snap past it with her teeth. This weight kept Blake from regaining the balance he had lost to the impact and this loss of balance and the length of his blade made it very hard to strike back.

As he wrestled to keep his shield between himself and the werewolf and the occasional hit from her claws screeched across his armour Blake considered dropping his sword so he could draw his dagger for this close in work. Longer blades needed more room to use so some armies preferred shorter blades for a tighter formation. His training in the militia had been more about fighting as an individual though and he had noticed the armies of Neverwinter, perhaps because of the long enmity with the mages of Luskan and their fireballs, also preferred a looser formation and larger blades. That did not help here though.

What did help was the butt of Gann's spear slamming into the side of the Werewolf's head as she drew it back for another snap. This disengaged her from Blake's shield and he was able to take the quick step back he needed. He swung his sword in at the Werewolf's head but turned it to strike with the flat of the blade. There was a slightly sickening crunch as this blow broke the arm she raised to protect her head. The Werewolf fell with a howl strangled by how breathless the pain in her shattered forearm had left her and then Blake swung again, the flat of his blade this time reaching the side of her head. Her eyes rolled up as awareness left her.

"There are some, many, who choose to become Lycanthropes," Gann commented, as Blake bent to tilt the Werewolf's head so she'd not swallow her tongue, "and deserve no mercy as they revel in the blood they can now more easily shed. There are others though who feel it a curse and even if this is a dream…"

"I did mention those Gnome sisters," Blake replied, straightening, "and given my condition I can hardly object to showing mercy, where it does not endanger us, to those suffering from a curse. She might still die, if this were not a dream, from a smashed skull but it did feel better to give that chance rather than decapitate her."

Gann nodded, accepting that Blake's compassion only went so far, and they moved back towards the stage. The three actors in their masks still stood there, showing themselves to be dream-creatures by their calmness compared with how the real people had reacted to the fight against the Red Wizards and Gnolls. They looked down at Blake and Gann like puppets waiting to be moved.

"Hmm…" Blake muttered to Gann, looking down and around at the corpses, "seems I didn't play that scene very well either. Was not me who ended up screaming."

"The Betrayer will return," said Wallace, reacting to this as he had not to the bloodshed, "and we will wait for him, as we promised."

"See," Blake commented, "I said they fled to fight another day."

"We will watch for the opening of the Gate," added Lothario.

"Look for us on the day the Betrayer returns," Amber said. "We will storm the City of Judgement at his side and our oaths will be fulfilled at last…"

Her voice trailed off as she and the other actors vanished, though the corpses and the fallen did not. A portal shimmered into appearance near the front doors and Blake and Gann turned to look at it and then to each other. "That dream was powerful, and there was much truth in it I think," commented Gann. "The portal will lead us onward…"

"Onward to what though?" Blake mused, wiping his sword off. "Still… as you said, follow the flow, not fight against it."

With that and with caution they stepped into the portal. The world wavered and Blake let out a grunt of annoyance as he saw the Chamber of Dreamers appear around them. There was something strange about the scene though and Blake nodded as he realised what. "No Slumbering Coven, no corpses around their feet, and no Okku or Neeshka awaiting our return."

"This is a dream of where the Coven dreams," replied Gann, looking around and assessing their surroundings, "and where these others dream with them… perhaps we need to divert through their dreamscapes as a route to the Coven."

"Worth trying…" Blake said, looking at the standing figures, "let us try the one in wizard-robes first, the other fellow has enough fat to wait a little longer."

Gann concentrated and the dreamscape shimmered again as their perceptions and that man's shifted into alignment and the flow of their dreams merged. In a way the result was rather disappointing as a normal looking house appeared rather than something more dramatic. There was a Devil present but he seemed safely enclosed in a summoning circle so, with a nod to Gann, Blake slid his sword back into his scabbard. The man whose dream they had chosen was also present though in his agitated muttering to himself he did not seem to have noticed their arrival.

"There's got to be something I'm overlooking! Something I…" the man said, pacing and turning and breaking off as he finally saw Blake and Gann. "Oh! You there! You have to help me! This thing, this vile creature, claims to have the right to my soul."

"You mean that…" Blake said, pausing a moment to think, "Falxugon in the circle over there?""

"Why, yes!" exclaimed the man in a surprised tone. "So you have some experience with Infernal beings then?"

"I was acquainted with a Warlock who saw them as a path to power and collected them, though that method had the obvious drawback of them wanting to 'collect' him if his control over them slipped."

"Hmm, though that is not your most intimate experience with Infernals," smiled Gann, "or with part-Infernals at least."

"I am not sure I want to know what your friend means," the man commented, "but it is a shame about the Warlock not being here. He must have been extraordinarily powerful and such expertise would come in handy right about now."

"All he meant was that my lady-love happens to be a Tiefling, and expertise with what?"

"Ah, well the matter at hand concerns the contract I signed with that, what did you call it again?" the man asked, "A Falxugon?"

"You signed a contract with a Devil?" Blake frowned. "What were the terms of this agreement?"

"Not my soul, that's for sure!" replied the man defensively. "We simply agreed on a number of favours he would grant me if I did certain things for him."

"Sounds simple and straightforward, perhaps too much so," commented Blake, "at least in the tales Infernal contracts are rather more complex. Do you have a copy of this contract?"

"Yes, but I need to keep looking through it," said the man, before glaring with unimpressive ferocity at the Falxugon. "I'm sure he has another copy on his person though, just to taunt me in case I lose mine."

"I shall ask him then," Blake replied, "I can at least have a look in case I see something your familiarity with the contract is causing your eyes to skim past."

It was not with any great hope of success that Blake approached the Infernal, nor any great motivation, but until and unless another portal appeared in this dreamscape he had nothing much better to do. The Devil glanced at them as they walked across and gave them a practised smile that was almost as smarmy as the one Gann had offered on his and Blake's first meeting. "Greetings my friend," the Falxugon said, "I hope our good friend Faras here hasn't concerned you overmuch with talk of our business relationship."

"Concerned, no," Blake replied, "his business is his business, as are the consequences, but he has piqued my curiosity mildly with him being so certain you have no claim on his soul and also saying you disagree on that."

"Why, yes, of course I disagree," said the Falxugon, with an even more smarmy smile, "but only because I am right. I do have a claim on his soul. It is all explicitly stated in the contract."

"I don't doubt you ensured that," Blake said politely, "and that if he asked that you would be willing to show him exactly where that was stated. Perhaps I could do you both a favour though? If you have a copy of the contract I can look at then, if I find the truth of what you say, he might be more willing to accept it was his mistake for not noticing this than if you have to point it out to him."

"Of course. Here, you may peruse it at your leisure," agreed the Falxugon, smiling yet again as he handed over a scroll. "If you have any questions about it then feel free to ask, though I expect you will find it clear enough. Unlike him. And I do hope you are right in thinking you can end his complaining."

"We shall have to see," Blake said, taking the scroll and retreating a few steps.

Blake unfurled the scroll and began to look dubious as it became apparent just how tightly it had been rolled. And how small some of the writing on it was. Gann leaned in with polite interest and also started to peruse the document. There were a few moments of silence from the pair of them though Faras continued to pace and mutter and disturb the quiet of the dreamscape-room.

"That is of impressive length," Gann commented, "and…"

"And although you have heard that said many times…" interrupted Blake in a distracted tone.

"I was actually going to say I was no expert in contracts and legal matters," Gann corrected, before smiling and adding, "But there is truth in your assumption."

"Hmm," nodded Blake. "And no surprises so far here either. What looks like standard text on the power of the Devils and the certainty of their victory over the Demons… and Faras' name appears… and now a long section citing the Pact Primeval, which I think is their law code…"

"Fascinating," Gann said, his tone indicating otherwise.

"Indeed," Blake replied with a sigh. "Ah… favours and rewards. Hrm…"

"You have seen something that will end this tedium of watching you read?" asked Gann hopefully.

"No. Just the opposite," Blake said, tilting his head, "all of these seem a simple exchange of favour for deed. More standard text… Faras' signature, what looks like the Devil's signature… and, ah, above those signatures some very tiny text…"

Blake rolled the contract up again, though not as tightly as before, and moved back across to the muttering Faras who gave him a look of transparent appeal.

"Well? He's wrong, right?" asked Faras hopefully. "This doesn't say anything about giving it my soul. I made sure that none of the things I had to do involved my soul in any way."

"The tasks and favours don't," Blake replied, "but look here. Did you notice the text just here above your signature?"

"What?" Faras exclaimed, squinting at his own copy of the contract. "Oh gods! I didn't even see that, I just checked the conditions and signed it."

"You," Blake started, before deciding to be a little more diplomatic and shifting his tone. "You were dealing with a Devil and rather than read the whole thing you just checked the conditions and signed it?"

"Did you see how long that thing is?" Faras replied defensively. "Did you read the whole thing just now?"

"No," Blake admitted, before being unable to prevent himself from adding, "but then again, despite it not being my soul at stake, I still read it carefully enough to find that it said you would forfeit your soul if you fulfilled all the favours."

Faras looked for a moment at Blake and then glanced away. "You are right of course, I should have read it more thoroughly but… but, wait! I didn't fulfil all the favours."

"Are you certain?"

"Of course," Faras replied with growing confidence. "You hear that Devil! I didn't do all the favours, the contract was not completed, you cannot have my soul."

"Ah, but all the favours were done," came the calm reply from the Infernal, "and all the rewards given."

"No they weren't!" said Faras in automatic denial.

"Let us be absolutely sure," Blake interrupted, "which favours did you not fulfil?"

"The third one," Faras said, after a momentary glance at the contract. "I never cast an evil spell…"

"You do recall that you summoned me to answer your questions?" asked the Falxugon, his smile becoming more sinister and less smarmy.

"Yes, because your other favours all vanished you cheat!"

Blake sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before he trusted his voice. "It does say they would only last a year you know," Blake pointed out, "right above where they are listed."

"It does? Hells!" asked and exclaimed Faras in surprise, before repeating. "But I still never cast an evil spell."

"On the contrary," corrected the Falxugon with unhidden satisfaction, "summoning a denizen of the Nine Hells, as you did, would be considered evil in most circles. I thank you for fulfilling that favour."

"Oh Gods!" said Faras, sounding rather as if he was about to pass out.

"Try to remain clear minded," Blake told him, unrolling his copy of the contract a little for reference. "Now, as you thought you had not done this task I take it that you would not have claimed the reward for it?"

"No… wait, that means I still have a 'wish of limited power'," replied Faras, more hope coming to his face as he had an idea. "Ahem, I wish I had never signed that contract…"

After waiting a moment Blake nodded, unsurprised at the lack of success. "Seems the wish is too limited in power or that you did use it sometime, now was there another task unfulfilled?"

"Causing the death of another," nodded Faras. "I have never killed anyone, never even seen a dead body thanks be to Kelemvor."

"Think carefully though," Blake replied, a little envious that Faras had managed to avoid killing and death, "it doesn't say kill, it says 'cause the death of another' and that could include less obvious or direct means." Blake checked the favour listed for the task. "Have you noticed yourself become more powerful?"

"Well, it may be hard for you to believe but a few tendays ago I was not the fearsome wizard you see before you. I was still only an eager but inexperienced apprentice."

"No? You do surprise me," Gann said politely while Blake struggled and controlled his own reaction.

"That argues for the favour having been done," said Blake eventually, "and you have not denied having done the previous favour of grievously wounding someone."

"No! I mean, yes," Faras replied. "When I was speaking to Enzibur here… after fulfilling the third favour it seems… my master's other apprentice, Ithias, burst into the room. He threatened to tell our master Galban so in a panic I cast a spell at him and he got a face full of acid.

"Fatal?" Blake asked.

"I may be no paladin," said Faras with understatement, "but I did check him before I fled. The acid will leave a mark, or ten, but those were not mortal wounds."

"So you fled, and accidents can happen in a pursuit," Blake mused. "Were you ever caught?"

"Yes… Galban must have found Ithias and then he found me. He said I was dangerous and began chanting a spell. I didn't know what to do, no spell I knew would have protected me, so I just closed my eyes and cowered."

Blake nodded, again not surprised. "Well, you are here so somehow you escaped. How?"

"It was strange…" replied Faras thoughtfully, "as I was cowering and waiting for the end I heard this crackle of energy, a harrumph of surprise, and then nothing. I opened my eyes and found nothing but some dust, he was gone."

"Which, if he was the dust, does sound rather fatal," Blake pointed out, "hard even for a cleric of great power to reverse."

"But that is just it, I didn't do anything," protested Faras. "I was too scared and it wouldn't have done any good… all I did was cringe and wish he would go away."

"You wished? And this was after you earned a 'wish of limited power' from Enzibur?"

"You're right," said Faras with dawning horror, "that must be where the wish went. That dust was my master and I wished for it. I did it! I'm responsible for my master's death."

"Maybe, but perhaps not," Blake mused, more thoughtful than consoling, "you wished he would go away, you said? Not that he be killed?"

"Yes, I thought 'go away' over and over while I cringed, but what does that matter? He is still dead."

"It makes little difference to him," Blake admitted, "but I do have a vague memory that suggests it might affect you. Let me speak to Enzibur."

Faras nodded, some happiness fuelled by self-interest breaking through his grief and guilt over his master. Enzibur looked less happy as he saw some hope on Faras' face but he hid this beneath a diplomatic expression as Blake got closer.

"Ah, hello again my friend," Enzibur smarmed. "You seem to have some sort of idea or query from your scintillating conversation with Faras."

"A memory sparked by his tale," Blake replied. "One about you needing the mortals to act of their own free will in signing the contract, and a question about if that also applied to their actions in carrying out their side of the bargain."

"Ah the rules, always the rules," sighed Enzibur dramatically. "You are correct, we cannot coerce you to sign the contract and if your souls are to be damned then it must be by your own doing."

"Then I suggest you are in breach of those rules, as part of Faras' actions were not by his own doing."

"Indeed?" said Enzibur, with some disdain, "I did not coerce him into anything if that is what you are suggesting."

"True, he entered the contract of his own will, but you granted him a wish. Was that wish how his master died and this the death you claim he caused?"

"Of course," agreed Enzibur. "I heard him telling you about it and how much strongly he was wishing. I was, of course, happy to oblige as a bargain is a bargain and so I cast the Disintegrate spell myself."

"Which is the problem," Blake nodded, "he did not wish for his master to die, he wished for him to go away. A spell of teleportation would have more accurately fulfilled that wish."

"So? Let us suppose you are correct, if I did misinterpret then what difference?" Enzibur asked, beginning to frown a little. "The wish was made and here we are."

"By your misinterpretation you made Faras responsible for the death of Galban," Blake pointed out, deepening Enzibur's frown, "and therefore it was by your actions that Faras fulfilled a condition of the contract. Not by his own."

"Don't be silly. I didn't force… it was not my actions…" floundered Enzibur. "Wait. Let me think a moment."

Blake waited a moment and then a moment longer for the sake of politeness. "I am right aren't I?" Blake said with a slight smile. "The contract is void."

"Damn you mortal!" growled Enzibur, failing to intimidate Blake after the more powerful Devils and Demons he had encountered. "I shall not forget this."

With that threat the Falxugon vanished and Faras' anxious expression changed to one of near orgasmic relief. He hurried over grinning and babbling incoherently for a several seconds before he was able to speak. He glanced around as if he was expecting that it was a trick and Enzibur was just hiding. "What happened? Why did he leave? Am I safe and free?"

"As he put it, your soul has to be damned by your own actions," Blake replied, "and him choosing to kill rather than teleport Galban to make him 'go away' meant it was his actions that made you fulfil that final condition. That nullified the entire contract."

"Really? Thank the Gods you came along, I would never have fig…" began Faras, before stopping and forcing a more dignified tone. "I mean, you saved me a little time figuring that out. Thank you so much, but that said I really must be off."

"Aye," Blake said, not taking offence, "your body is standing and dying of thirst back in the Chamber of Dreamers."

"What?" exclaimed Faras, reminded that this was a dream. He paused a moment as he tried to figure out whether Blake and Gann were just part of the dream and whether he was going to have to speak to Enzibur in reality as well. But the more important thing seemed to be the 'dying of thirst' part so off he rushed.

"Finished?" Gann asked.

"Seems so," replied Blake, "we are alone and a portal has appeared to take us onwards."

"Then let us be through this next portal before some other fool tweaks your heroic conscience."

Blake smiled and nodded and, making sure his sword was free in its scabbard, led the way to and into the portal. Again the dreamscape shifted around them and again they found themselves in the Chamber of Dreamers. This scene had changed though from the last time. "Even emptier this time," Blake commented. "Still no hags and this time no people, just a single portal."

"There is much to be said for simplicity of choice," Gann replied, "though I prefer my dreams to be more freely flowing."

They walked up the few stairs onto the triangular platform, in the middle of which the frameless portal floated. With another nod to each other they entered this and found themselves somewhere unfamiliar. Blake tensed as he saw the style of the architecture and the robes worn by the man standing ahead of them with his back to them. He revealed his agitation as he checked his sword again even though it was only a few moments since he had last checked.

"This looks similar to the Temple of Myrkul in Shadow Mulsantir," muttered Blake, "and that ahead looks like a Red Wizard, and one powerful or lucky enough to have reached old age…"

"Or is he a Red Wizard?" Gann cautioned him. "Remember what I said at the Mosstone about metaphor and illusion."

Blake tersely nodded to Gann's words as he conceded that. "We shall try speaking to him and see if this dream flows other than violence."

"Moreover," added Gann, frowning as he looked past the Red Wizard, "that black portal… that is not something native to our world, or even the realm of dreams. Another mystery to be learned of."

"It began here," the Red Wizard said, still facing the black portal that had caught Gann's interest. "I stood at the Betrayer's side, at my brother's side. They were gathered around us… celestials, dragons, mortals both alive and dead. Did the room expand to hold such a host? Or is my memory too small?"

"Ah, so Akachi's brother was a Red Wizard," breathed Blake. "You people were involved in the creation of this curse as well as in my becoming its victim."

"I can see why your thoughts are turning this way," Gann agreed, "what the Wood Man said bore out what Nak'kai said and you did seem to have some insight back in the dream-theatre. It would explain why your dreams are filled with details of this, though it still leaves much unanswered."

"Indeed," nodded Blake, "not least of which is the mystery of this portal and its connection to Akachi. Dream-wizard, do you answer our questions?"

"We stand before the Betrayer's Gate," replied the Red Wizard. "A door that should not be. Rest your eyes upon its edges and its grooves, watch them carefully and you can sense the wrongness. Death and Life flow together in that simple slab of rock. Pass through it and you will see the place of final judgement."

"Or more simply put," Blake said, wanting just Oghma's knowledge rather than Milil's poetry, "it is a gate that leads to the Fugue Plane and the City of Judgement."

"Yes, the grey city and its wall of screaming souls," continued the Red Wizard, still waxing poetic. "Passage to that forlorn realm should be granted only by death, but this Gate provides another way, a forbidden way…" The Red Wizard's voice shifted towards anger. "A way that my brother opened with his silver blade… I swear to you, if I could take it back, if I could make him see…"

As if that was a cue, which it probably was, a beautiful but severe looking woman chose that moment to walk down the stairs from the raised corridor at the opposite end of the room to the Betrayer's Gate. The disdainful look she glared at the Red Wizard as she descended showed there was no friendship there despite them both being clad in the same style of Robes. There seemed more to their enmity than the usual Thayan infighting even.

"The Red Woman again," Gann commented, admiring the graceful descent, "but not quite. There are subtle differences as if they are dreamed by different minds."

"You?" this version of the Red Woman sneered. "Make him see? Araman, you flitting shadow… you were nothing but a leaf borne by a great storm."

"Araman?" Blake echoed, looking at Gann in surprise. "I think that name was mentioned as the leader of the coup at the Thayan Academy. Against Nefris, the Red Wizard who had me put in the barrow."

"Coincidence," mused Gann, "or, perhaps not. The connection is there but unclear. Maybe if we listen further and let this dream flow it will be more apparent."

"Araman, why do you hunt me?" the Red Woman demanded, ignoring Blake and Gann and following her own script. "You would destroy everything your brother strove for, render his sacrifice meaningless."

"Not to destroy. To set things right!" corrected Araman, his own anger rising to meet the Red Woman's. "How could I choose my brother over my god? Yes, I was a feeble flitting thing when I passed through that door. I was borne by my brother's storm, but I learned from his folly. He set mortal love above the gods, so he paid the price. And we paid with him, you and I."

"Be cautious," murmured Gann as the tension rose. "I think choosing one over the other will lead to bloodshed in this dream."

"I have no objection to spilling Red Wizard blood," Blake murmured back, "either or both of them, but corpses give poor answers to questions unless you are a cleric. If we want answers we had best demand them before their argument intensifies to fighting…" Gann considered for an instant whether to suggest that Blake requested rather than demanded answers, but just nodded. At this nod Blake raised his voice. "You, Araman! You hunt her because your God commands it?"

"Yes," Araman replied simply as Gann winced at the tone proving Blake had meant 'demand'. After a moment Araman continued. "I faltered once, for love of my brother, but the lesson of the Crusade, and of my brother's suffering, has reforged my will and my faith. Understand this… I cannot betray my god again."

"And your descendants," pressed Blake, "they still hunt hers? Was the coup at Nefris' academy part of this war?"

"I have no descendants, but by the choice I made I live until I right my brother's wrong," Araman said, correcting the first part of what Blake had said and ignoring the second, "a wrong that might have been stopped here at this gate if I had not been blinded by devotion."

"It would seem the Araman here," commented Gann in surprise, "is a dream-reflection of the same man who you heard mentioned before."

Blake nodded to Gann. "Which means even if I am wrong about how this curse was created," he growled, "his failure to kill Nefris sooner could be blamed for her being alive to have me infected with it." Blake turned to face the Red Woman who was still glaring at Araman. "You, Red Woman," he said, treating her with equal curtness, "he says the 'Crusade' was on your behalf?"

"For the love his brother bore me," said the Red Woman proudly. "All he did… all he suffered… was for love."

For a moment Blake tried to control his sudden rage. He could respect Akachi suffering for his love and being willing to do much to save her but he resented that it seemed he was suffering for Akachi's love as well. And he truly resented that Neeshka, who he loved so much, was having to risk her life on her own 'crusade' to save him because of the actions of these people long ago. Blake gave up and decided that these two people seemed too proud for politeness to work. Araman too proud that he had belatedly learned from his mistake and the Red Woman too proud that Akachi had done all of this for her.

"Ah, to the Hells with you both then," Blake growled, surprising Gann as he had intended Blake to choose a side when he cautioned him to be careful which side to pick. "If Myrkul created the spirit-eater curse because of this 'Crusade' then your actions gave him the excuse to cause centuries of suffering. Countless spirits to be devoured by the curse's hunger and the maddening and slow death of all the curse's hosts. You, Red Woman, take blame for being the cause and you, Araman, for not stopping it as you admit you could have."

"You belittle the sacrifice my love made?" protested the Red Woman. "Who are you to criticise him!"

"You mock the guilt I feel?" Araman said, almost simultaneously. "Lecture me on what I know so well and have lived with all these centuries?"

"Congratulations," commented Gann, "you seem to have ended centuries of arguing, by drawing their wrath onto us instead."

Blake nodded and drew his sword as both Red Wizards muttered words of power. Reinforcements shimmered out of the dreamscape behind them and these seemed fairly appropriate. Three other Red Wizards joined Araman, just as he had managed in reality to get Red Wizards to join his faction to carry out a coup at a Thayan Academy. The Red Woman was joined by three Thayan Golems, just as the young Red Wizard that Neeshka had slain back in Okku's barrow had been accompanied by that little flying Golem-thing.

Deciding the Golems would not be more dangerous for a short delay Blake turned his attention first to the Red Wizards. If they were given a chance to cast some defensive spells they might not be as vulnerable as if caught more unprepared. There was a truism of war that a good decision now was often worth more than the best decision later would be. Hindsight might allow you to see a better idea, or given that and months to think some armchair General might do the same, but time was more critical. That was true here as well. Firebrand might not always be the best spell, some things were fire immune, perhaps something else would be more effective, perhaps this was a waste of the power of the Weave. But the Red Wizards paused to think what their best spell was and so Blake finished casting first.

The ball of flame formed in front of him and then split into four smaller balls that streaked away and into the Red Wizards and Araman. To Blake's annoyance their robes did not catch fire but suddenly having fire burst against their chests and engulf them for a moment was enough to spoil the concentration of the three younger men. Araman was older and tougher and less impressed by the attack and managed to cast a Greater Missile Storm. Most of these struck Blake as he charged but a couple arced past him to strike Gann in the back.

Gann had turned to face the Golems and staggered forward a little under the missile impacts. One Golem tried to take advantage Gann being off-balance but Gann's reactions were fast enough for him to recover and whip his spear around to strike the sharp edge of the spearhead against one Golem Knee. These Golems looked like men made of clay and, although their substance flexed as they moved, as it was struck the knee cracked like a badly fired pot. A small section of the side of its leg fell away in fragments and it hop-shuffled back as the other two moved forward.

Blake attacked, his armour glowing slightly in spots to radiate away the energy it had absorbed from the magic missiles and his sword sweeping in for a stabbing cut at Araman's gut. The older man jumped back and Blake pulled his blow to shift its path and use the momentum to cut up and across one Red Wizard's upper chest. This was not deep enough a cut to reach the heart but his sword's edge cleanly sliced through the robes and grazed across the pectoral muscles. Flinching belatedly back away from the sword and recoiling from the pain the Red Wizard lost his balance and with an 'oof' of expelled breath sat down hard on his arse. Another Red Wizard was turning so Blake continued pivoting and slammed his shield into him, the blade like ridge on the front of Blake' shield crunching something in his chest and the impact driving him to the floor.

Gann was having more trouble as Golems not bothered by pain and were better at close combat than unprepared Wizards were. The one whose knee he had cracked was limping and slowed but Gann had to sidestep a punch from another. This left Blake's back vulnerable so Gann shoved the shaft of his spear into the Golem's armpit and, a hand either side as if it was the bar of some exercise weights, heaved upwards. Lifted and thrown off balance the Golem tottered sideways into the others. For a moment they were clumped together so seeing this chance and overcoming his reluctance again Gann beseeched the spirits. They responded and a Burst of Glacial Wrath engulfed the group.

A Red Wizard staggered back as Blake's sword swept up and through his wrist. His hand fell to the floor with a thump as he grabbed at the fresh stump with his other hand and fought not to scream. Araman used the distraction of his minions being maimed to retreat and Blake had to close the distance on him again, giving the older man enough time to cast a Fireball. Unfortunately for him he'd underestimated the speed of Blake's approach. Even more unfortunate for him was that, by definition, a large enchanted shield did shield the person behind it. Blake felt some beard hairs singe as small tendrils of flame licked around the edges of his shield but most of the Fireball was deflected to either side or back at Araman who found himself being burned worse by his own spell than his target was.

This dream chamber was not damp like the Skein had been but there had been enough moisture on the floor and in the air that Gann's Burst of Glacial Wrath had linked the Thayan Golems together and to the floor with ice. This gift of the spirits had also made their clay brittle with cold and the cracking noises as they tried to free themselves seemed to be more than just the fairly weak ice links breaking. As their eyes met past her temporarily disabled servants the Red Woman sneered at Gann and then Lightning crackled out from her hands and into him.

Gann staggered back, a faint wisp of smoke rising from a scorch mark on his leather armour, but although his spear was not well weighted for throwing as he fell onto one knee he swept his arm around. He was off balance and falling so he could not put much power into it, it would have glanced off a metal breastplate, but against robes the spearhead sank in enough for the Red Woman to crumple around it.

Blake also took advantage of his enemy's lack of armour. There were no plates to aim for the joints between, no thicker sections of leather that would slow his blade as it cut through, and his sword was sharp enough and heavy enough that with his enhanced strength bone and flesh was not much hindrance to its edge. He would still prefer to not waste effort by cutting through more than he had to though so he brought his sword down in a forehand diagonal blow. Araman reflexively raised an arm to protect his face and neck. Against some this relatively light quick blow would have been more a feint to draw the arm up than an actual attack but here bones broke and flesh parted and the old Red Wizard's unarmoured arm bent where nature had not intended.

As Araman recoiled with his hand and lower arm dangling on the strands of skin and muscle that had not been severed Blake brought his sword back up along the path it had taken down and then around in a clockwise arc into Araman's waist. Again this was not a particularly heavy blow but the edge of Blake's sword easily sliced through cloth and the flesh beneath it at Araman's waist. Blake drew his sword straight back, cutting it in deeper as he did, and then flicked it back in a horizontal arc. This had a bit more weight behind it but was not neat since as Araman was beginning to fall the sword caught a bit of chin as it decapitated him rather than cleanly slicing through the neck.

Gann regained his feet. His muscles were numb where the electricity had passed down through him and into the floor but he moved with as much speed as he could towards the Red Woman. A glance behind him confirmed the Golems had nearly freed themselves so Gann grabbed the spear where it jutted out of the Red Woman and gave it a twist as much to free it as to worsen the wound. Then pulling it back he swept the butt of it around behind him. This was not a fast or powerful sweep but with how the Golem was slowed and brittle with cold it struck and there was another crunch as the iron bands met the Golem's thigh.

The Red Woman was still coughing up blood and so was still alive but Gann did not have time to finish her and she seemed out of the fight for now. Instead Gann pivoted, continuing the motion of his sweep, and stabbed out at the Golem's chest. The spearhead sank deep into the centre of the Golem's chest but as there was no heart within to rupture this blow was less effective. Its main effect was to trap Gann's spear for a moment and this was long enough for the Golem to grab at the spearshaft to try to keep it trapped with the grip of its hands as well as the clay of its chest.

Blake turned away from the headless Araman and towards the Red Wizards he had summoned to his aid. A twitch of annoyance passed over his face as he saw these were still here rather than having vanished with the summoner's death as actual summoned creatures would. What was good though was that two of them seemed neutralised. The one with the missing hand looked reluctant to release the grip he had on the stump with his other hand and the one Blake had injured the chest of with the blade-ridge of his shield seemed to be having trouble speaking and reciting spells.

The third Red Wizard however was able to focus past the pain from the shallow but bloody wound across his pectorals and was chanting. He completed his spell and cast Evard's Black Tentacles at Blake. This was theoretically good tactics as if Blake was entangled by these thick rubbery tentacles, as they somehow sprang from the floor without disturbing the paving and began trying to wrap themselves around him, then the Red Wizards could stand back and cast more spells at him. But with the aid of his own magic Blake was fast and strong enough to avoid the tentacles getting a grip on him and their blows and paralysing effects glanced off his protective spells and armour.

Gann was still wrestling with the Golem and its grip on his spear. His eyes flickered down for a moment and then he tightened his grip and shoved sideways with as much force as he could. The leather of Gann's boot soles gripped on the relatively clean floor beneath them but the Golem's clay feet slid on the slight frosting of ice Gann had noticed it was standing on. The Golem toppled and its hands lost their grip on the spearshaft. As the spear came free it enlarged the hole in the Golem's chest and then as the Golem struck the floor more cracks spread out from that hole under the impact. Gann glanced at the other two Golems and shifted his grip on his spear to use it more like a Quarterstaff.

The Red Wizards had relaxed when the spell was successfully cast and the tentacles erupted around Blake. It took them a moment or two to realise that the spell was not stopping him and Blake took advantage of this. Even without this extra edge it was unlikely the Red Wizard with the cut chest would have been able to dodge but he howled as Blake's sword stabbed out at his knee to cut along the outside of it to cripple him. He hopped back, trying to keep his balance while not putting weight on that suddenly wounded leg, and Blake withdrew his sword, took a moment to settle his own stance, and stabbed out again into the Red Wizard's gut. As the Red Wizard fell Blake let this fall draw him off the blade and angled his sword slightly so that motion fatally widened the cut.

Ignoring the howl and then the thud behind him Gann padded forward towards the unwounded Golem. He feinted with one end and then the other of his spear to try to draw the Golem into a reaction but the Golem was not really intelligent enough to try to anticipate and react to feints. A dab forward with the spearhead and then Gann whipped the butt end of his spear up and around diagonally and into the Golem's chin. Iron bands crunched into the clay and the Golem's entire lower face disintegrated into fragments and powder with the cracks spreading up and across what was sculpted to look like eyes. This did seem to blind the Golem as it began groping around for Gann who had taken a quick step back. Gann set himself and then brought the butt of his spear back in a sweeping horizontal stab into the side of what was left of the Golem's head. As this shattered and the Golem became headless this proved enough damage and it fell, inactive.

The two surviving Red Wizards were backing away from Blake. One was fighting for breath through his cracked or broken ribs so he could speak and cast spells and the other was trying to summon the courage to let go of his stump and attempt to cast a spell with his single remaining hand. Blake smiled, his teeth making a brief flash of white in his beard and between the cheekguards of his open face helmet, as he decided that turnaround was fair play. His hands made the abbreviated spellcasting gestures that were more habit than necessity with his training and practice in casting in full armour with a shield on one arm. There was just enough time for the Red Wizards to wonder what he was doing before the writhing tentacles behind Blake were duplicated by another set bursting up all around them.

Without magic enhanced reflexes the two Red Wizards were unable to dodge these tentacles and found them wrapping themselves around their legs and snagging into the cloth of their robes. Suckers gripped onto the leather of their boots and the cloth of their trousers, paralysing magic began flowing into them, and the Red Wizards had neither the innate toughness nor the protective magic to resist. Their postures stiffened and they began to be held up more by the grip of the Tentacles than by their own sense of balance. Blake looked at them dispassionately and then, now they were unable to dodge and he could take the time for precision, stepped forward and cleanly decapitated them with one quick blow each.

Happy with his success against one Golem Gann wondered if he could repeat it but without having to smash an entire head. His spear was not as suited as Blake's sword for cutting rather than stabbing but it did have a good edge on the spearhead so Gann tried to slash this across the neck of the Golem with the hole in its chest. Showing surprising reflexes the Golem grabbed again and managed to catch the spearshaft. It brought its other hand up as well and getting a good grip began to wrestle with Gann for the spear. Even with the aid of his equipment and the spirits Gann was not as strong as the Golem but when he glanced down at the Golem's chest he looked less worried. Throwing his strength and weight to one side and then the other Gann allowed himself a very slight smile.

The Golem remained impassive as it resisted Gann's efforts but then there was a painful sounding cracking noise. The hole in the Golem's chest was large enough to have weakened it and the strain of wrestling was too much. Gann had seen the cracks spreading and widening as each shove tried to move the Golem's arms and the stress was transmitted across the Golem's chest between them or down through its torso and against where its legs were bracing it. Now both the Golem' arms came off, thankfully the grip of the hands relaxing as they did, and the Golem staggered back with the front of its chest crumbling like an undercut riverbank.

For a moment that looked like the end of it but as the Golem tried to keep its feet its head and neck and what was left of its shoulders began wobbling back and forth on what was left of its torso. The weight of these and the flexing was too much and after only a few sways the Golem's back snapped and its upper and lower halves parted company. There was a distinct crunch as the top of the Golem's head met the floor as if it was a swimmer diving into rather unyielding water.

While Gann was wrestling and destroying that Golem the final one with the wounded knee had started limping towards him to attack. Blake had turned from his executions and, seeing this, cast a Melf's Acid Arrow. Against opponents of this strength this was more an annoyance than a serious wound but a small patch of clay continued to bubble as the acid ate away at it. Blake called and waved his sword to keep the Golem's attention turned towards him. The Golem hesitated as its limited mind tried to decide between its original target and its most recent attacker as its priority. Finally it decided and took a couple of halting steps towards Blake.

Then Gann swept the butt of his spear into the back of the same knee he had wounded earlier. Cracks spread from that fresh hole to join it to the older one and as the Golem finished its step its lower leg came off. Blake smashed down with his sword at the falling Golem and sped its descent to the floor. There was a slight crunch from the arm the Golem trapped under its own body and then a louder crunch as Gann drove the butt of his spear into the back of the Golem's head. Blake looked down at the Golem and placed the fist of his sword hand onto the forearm of his shield arm as he took a half step forward. Then Blake put his weight and both arms into bringing the slightly pointed lower edge of his kite shaped shield down to into the small of the Golem's back.

This cracked the Golem almost in two and its feeble twitching efforts to move only widened the cracks. Gann and Blake nodded to each other and so as Gann struck the Golem a few more times in the head to finish it Blake moved across to where the Red Woman was still dying to offer her the same mercy. Her eyes feebly flickered open but there was nothing feeble about the glare she turned on Blake. She coughed and summoned some strength to spit some blood at his feet.

"Traitor…" the Red Woman hissed, "betrayer of my beloved's memories…"

That effort seemed to exhaust the last of her strength and she slumped a little as death claimed her, though her eyes remained open and staring and accusing. Blake frowned down at the corpse for a moment before turning away and back towards Gann. "How can I betray the memory of someone I never knew," wondered Blake aloud, "and who I have only barely heard of in stories and tales?"

"She said 'memories' not 'memory'," Gann pointed out, "and your curse has come with such attached."

"Ah," breathed Blake, "and she expected that those would sway my judgement…"

"Have they not?" Gann asked in surprise.

Blake gave a slight smile. "They have, though when I realised why I was feeling some of the things that I was… well, the sway reversed to resentment over having those feelings imposed on me."

"Be cautious my friend," warned Gann, "you have a right to resent having emotions that are not your own and to react contrary to those. But always doing the reverse of what those feelings want is being swayed by them almost as much."

"Good advice," nodded Blake. "I do remember the tale that the best way to lead a pig is to tie a string to its back leg and pull the opposite direction to the way you want it to go. But pigs are smarter than that and I should try to be smarter than them. I do not think these people would have supplied anything more of use but, perhaps, that was just what I told myself to justify not controlling my anger and to let myself venerate Hoar with retribution all the sooner."

"For now though," Gann replied, trusting Blake's assessment of swine, "it seems we have a portal and somewhere more to go."

The two of them climbed the short flight of stairs to where the portal had appeared and entered. The dreamscape shifted around them again and a version of the Chamber of Dreamer's once more took shape. There were still no hags but there were two figures standing immobile. "Looks like Faras did wake up when we solved his problem," Blake commented, "and no path but through their dreams."

"So it would appear," agreed Gann, "though as to the latter I am unsure why. Unless the Coven hope we will become as entrapped in those dreams as those people seem to have been."

Blake gave Gann a smile. "You can stop them shaping the Dreamscape against us," he nodded, "but they can still use what was already within." Gann gave a slight bow of acknowledgement. "Hmm, the fat guy next I think."

"What of the Illithid?"

"I do not want to know what he is dreaming of, the possibilities could be unpleasant, but, aye, it may be wiser to find out and prevent him learning anything of use. With luck though he will die while we are in this fellow's dream and save us having to do that."

"Or the delay might allow him to learn what he seeks," countered Gann. Then his concern faded. "But if he does wake then we have Old Father Bear and your lovely companion to deal with him in the waking world."

Gann focussed on the flow of the dream and how it gathered around the fat human to form the eddy in which he was trapped and contained. There was a shimmer in the air and the Chamber of Dreamers dissolved to be replaced by a shabby looking inn and a version of the fat fellow who was able to see and react to them. With a friendly smile he took a few steps towards them to greet them. "Ah, a newcomer! Welcome sir, come to pay Hells have you?"

"Perhaps," Blake replied, not committing himself, "what can you tell me about this place first though?"

"Didn't you read the sign on the door when you came in? This, sir, is The Lonely Wench. Ironic name, if you ask me, since no women are allowed in here."

This took Blake by surprise. "Why not? Hardly seems a good tavern without ladies."

"On that I agree," Gann added.

"What, sirs, are you new in town?" said the fat fellow with equal surprise. "Wenches aren't allowed in here in order to keep the hags out. Horrible witches and ugly as Avernus, but they can disguise themselves. That's how they got that farmer Brodey. Poor sot thought he was going home with a willing buxom wench… he's luckier than most though since he actually returned alive."

"That seems unlikely, if he truly had fallen into the clutches of a hag," Gann frowned dubiously. "How did he suggest he had managed to survive?"

"Well, Brodey never talked much about it," grinned the fat fellow, a twinkle of sharing a good tale coming to his eyes. "He came back short one toe with a chunk of his thigh bitten off. All he said was 'Thank the gods my manhood is too small and I taste like compost!'"

"Well…" chuckled Blake, "at least he found the rare situation in which those became advantages. Anyway, you mentioned something about playing 'Hells'?"

"Yes sir. Hells!" the fat fellow replied enthusiastically. "It is an entirely original game of my own creation I am proud to say. Hells is a game of deduction inspired by the Nine Hells of Baator: Avernus, Dis, Minauros, Phlegethos, Stygia, Malbolge, Maladomini, Cania, and Nessus. I will think four Hells and you, sir, will have nine guesses to determine what I have in mind. If you get one of the Hells correct and in the correct order then you have a Devil. If you get one correct but in the wrong place then you have a Demon."

Blake looked at the fat fellow for a few moments before he could be diplomatic. "This sounds at least vaguely similar to another game…"

"Impossible sir!" replied the fat fellow, managing to convey wounded pride. "I am a notorious gambler and have travelled Faerun far and wide. Hells is something new and innovative. There is nothing else like it, sir, Hells is unique!"

"Hmm," Blake said, with a conciliatory nod, "yes."

Blake gestured to Gann and they moved a few steps away while the fat fellow returned his attention to the table. "So, do we play his guessing game?" Gann asked after a moment. "What we do has to be focussed on him and that seems his only concern, so he might not be freed otherwise."

"Aye, if he was more concerned with the Hags I might think we had to leave this inn to go hunting. Solve the problem of them being unable to have women here without risking being eaten." Gann nodded so Blake continued. "If this is like the game I have played then it is not entirely a guessing game. You can guess or you can work methodically through the options to narrow them down, the latter of which I would be better at."

"And I am better at the reverse," smiled Gann, "since I could use the insight the spirits grant me to tell how he reacted to each guess. I shall leave it to you though and help only by creating some dream gold so you may concentrate on the game rather than any losses you may suffer."

"Thank you Gann," Blake replied, starting back towards the fat fellow. "Neeshka would not like me to waste the efforts of her happy looting."

"Ah, a newcomer! Welcome sir," said the fat fellow again. "Come to play Hells have you?"

"What?" Blake exclaimed. "A newcomer? We were just speaking… but yes, I have come to play Hells."

"Excellent sir," smiled the fat fellow happily. "I will explain the rules. Listen closely because I will not ever repeat myself."

"You are repeating yourself and have explained the rules," replied Blake, making Gann wonder if he had misjudged how much Blake was willing to go with the flow of a dream, "so let's just play."

"Yes sir," said the fat fellow, looking and sounding as if he was humouring Blake. "Before we begin, let's agree on the wager. To tell the truth sir I have been breaking even for the longest time so I cannot afford to make a large bet."

"In that case I shall make a medium one," Blake responded.

Blake was a little unimpressed with how small even a medium bet was but he reminded himself of how large that would have seemed only months ago, and that Neeshka still would not have approved of him losing that here rather than spending it on something for her. Blake made his first selections and began his slow methodical work. It was obvious to the fat fellow and to Gann as Blake ground the possible combinations down what progress he was making and so no surprise when Blake nodded and recited the correct four Hells in the correct order after his previous attempts had been so close in different ways.

"Four Devils," said the fat fellow, "erm… Hells! You won."

Blake turned to Gann. "You see what I mean about being methodical."

"Hmm? Sorry," Gann replied, "I was so fascinated I almost discovered if you can sleep and dream within a dream."

"I was having to concentrate, and looks like one victory is not enough," said Blake, then he turned back to the fat fellow. "Another game?"

"Ah, a newcomer!" the fat fellow said. "Welcome, sir…"

"What?" Blake interrupted.

"Remember, he is locked in this dream and his actions," commented Gann.

"Dream, sir?" smiled the fat fellow. "You are quite the jester. Have you come to play Hells?"

"Aye, let's have another game."

"Another game sir?" said the fat fellow with polite puzzlement. "Come now, you may have played something with a similar name but we both know you've never played Hells before."

Blake opened his mouth slightly to protest but then just sighed slightly. "Very well, so let us play."

"Excellent sir. I will explain the rules," said the fat fellow, keeping to his internal script. "Listen closely, because I will not ever repeat myself."

'Which, as you are repeating yourself by saying that, is self-contradictory,' Blake thought before saying, "Let us just play, I know the rules."

"I don't see how that is possible sir," the fat fellow said with some puzzlement. "You've never played Hells before."

"And it is new and innovative," replied Blake, bringing a slight frown to the fat fellow's face as he used words the other had before and would have again, "but let us still play."

"Yes… sir," the fat fellow said, visibly wondering how they could play when one person did not know how. "Before we begin let us agree on the wager. My losses are beginning to make me nervous, sir. I'll try a small wager."

"I would prefer a higher bet," complained Blake, "but agreed. A small wager it is."

To the fat fellow's shock Blake did prove he knew the rules when the fat fellow was sure he had invented a new game and had not told this man the rules of it. Again Blake worked through the possibilities to narrow them down to the right four Hells and then to what order these should be in. He did not revere Tymorra as much as his darling Neeshka did but she seemed to be blessing him with either good fortune or the skill required for the game.

"Four Devils… Hells! You won," said the fat fellow before sighing. "Ah, I am nearly broke. One more loss and I will have to return home in shame."

"Excellent," said Gann from behind Blake, relieved that there was an end in sight, "beat him again and this dream will be broken and we can continue on."

Blake nodded over his shoulder to Gann and then spoke to the fat fellow. "Shall we play again?"

"Ah, a newcomer! Welcome, sir…" started the fat fellow.

"I am here to play Hells," Blake interrupted, trying to shortcut this part, "and the repute of your game has spread far and wide so with its fame there is no need for you to explain the rules."

"It has?" asked the fat fellow in surprised joy. "I mean, of course it has. I will still explain the rules though as you have never actually played Hells before. Listen closely, because I will not ever repeat myself."

"No need, as I said," Blake smiled. "Let's just play."

"Yes sir. Before we begin let us agree on the wager," the fat fellow said. He twitched slightly as he had to judge the weight of his coin purse and some part of him realised that was different from last time, and therefore that there had been a last time. The dream swept him back into its flow though and he continued, "Ah, I am nearly broke. One more loss and I will have to return home in shame. Apologies, sir, but I can only afford a small wager."

"That will be fine," replied Blake graciously, "let's play."

For a third time Blake played and achieved a methodical victory. The fat fellow tried to maintain a cheerful expression but as Blake slowly approached the solution his smile dimmed until it almost vanished as Blake made the final and correct choices. "Four Devils… Hells! You won," admitted the fat fellow, before sighing and looking doleful. "Forget Hells, this loss has put me in the Abyss. At least I still have the clothes on my back, unless of course you'd like to wager for them."

"I think not," Gann replied. "If you were a wench and some stone lighter then perhaps… but…"

"Never mind that," the fat fellow frowned. "I'll be captured by a hag if I step out of this inn in my skivvies."

"Their hunger can overcome their fussiness," agreed Gann.

"Well, sir," said the fat fellow, ignoring Gann, "I suppose I've no need to wish you good fortune, for you have taken all of mine… Farewell."

Blake nodded as the fat fellow turned and walked away. Then he felt a twitch in his bags as if a mouse or rat had squirmed into them. "What the…" Blake commented, reaching into his bag and hoping if it was a rodent it would bite the metal of the gauntlet and not the leather.

Groping around for a moment Blake's expression of puzzlement deepened as he felt a hilt and then withdrew a dagger to stare at it. Gann glanced at the dagger and then at Blake's face and smiled slightly. "Interesting," Gann commented, "I take it from your reaction that was not there until just now."

"It was not," Blake confirmed as he examined it. "This seems very magical and almost…fluid? That's not quite the right word but…"

"It seems as if its reality is not fixed?" asked Gann helpfully. "As if, like a dream can, it could shift and change?"

Blake nodded and frowned with concentration. "I wonder," he said, focussing on the dagger that suddenly grew into a longsword. Gann raised his eyebrows as if he was going to comment on an analogy with a piece of anatomy, but then the longsword changed into a quarterstaff and then back to a dagger.

"Seems… useful, if it will persist outside this dreamscape that is."

"Not that useful," Blake replied, continuing to frown in concentration as the dagger changed to a battleaxe and back. "I have a good sword and this resists being changed into a sword of similar size and shape." He paused a moment and then nodded to himself. "So, perhaps, I should try something different… ah!"

Blake smiled slightly as the dagger changed to a longbow. He examined it and then placed it on the table long enough to loosen the straps on his shield and slide that off his arm to lean it against one table leg. Blake picked the longbow up again and looked at it some more and then nodded to himself in satisfaction when as he drew the bowstring back an arrow shimmered into existence against that and his hand on the bow.

"A longbow?" asked Gann, mildly puzzled by Blake's happiness. "I have rarely seen you use the bow you carry, so is that truly of more use than a spare dagger?"

"There are places where arcane power is blocked," Blake said, turning the longbow to examine the arrow, "or foes that can counter or resist magic, so there or against them a longbow would be a very good thing to have."

"But would this longbow be a good thing to have?" Gann argued. "You say it is very magical and so it appears in its changing of form and that arrow appearing…"

"True," Blake nodded, carefully letting the bow return to not being partly drawn, which also caused the arrow to vanish. "Magic innate to items can be harder to block, they can remain enchanted where spells cannot be cast, but it is not impossible to block. This is a good bow but it does seem dependent on magic, whereas the bow I bought in Mulsantir depends on good wood and craftsmanship."

"It does sound like you will still be having to carry a second unenchanted bow and all the quivers of arrows to feed it."

"True enough," Blake replied, adding with a smile as he put the longbow back on the table and started to loosen the carrying straps on his shield, "which was why I didn't buy a bow with similar arrow-creating magic before. The bow I had, before the Red Wizards stole it, was a good one and Neeshka had given me a few lectures on how useful it was to have a variety of arrows."

"Lectures I am sure you happily listened to just for the joy of hearing her speak and watching her face," smiled Gann.

"It was good advice as well, but it did mean that by the time I could afford the other bow I had a lot of arrows, especially since I'd enough magic that it was becoming rare I needed to use a bow rather than a spell."

"And you do seem to have taken the advice to heart," nodded Gann, "though now you apply it to the variety of spells you prepare."

"These arrows are a lot better than the other bows I've seen could create," Blake continued, slinging his shield onto his back, "so variety might be less needed. And since the cost was boring you for a while rather than enriching a merchant I thank you for paying for this gift."

"A shame that I prefer a shortbow, or that 'thank you' might have prompted some hints that the one that paid should have the gift." Blake glanced at Gann to confirm his friend was teasing. "I am glad though that you gained more from this than simply opening the path onwards. Speaking of which…"

"Aye," replied Blake, his eyes following Gann's gaze to the portal that had appeared and picking the longbow back up, "onwards."

As both of them had expected as they entered the portal the dreamscape shifted to replace the Inn with the Chamber of Dreamers. It was no surprise either that this room was empty of Hags or of standing figures, the only object within it being another portal. Blake looked around the chamber as if looking for another route on other than the obvious one floating ahead of them but then he shrugged with a slight clank. "And again no people, just a single portal."

"So again we have a clear choice," Gann replied, looking on the bright side.

Blake glanced at Gann but did not quibble as he led the way into the portal. This version of the Chamber of Dreamers dissolved around them and they found themselves outside under a dead grey sky and standing on dead grey soil. A great wall filled the horizon ahead of them, its surface twisted and uneven with what looked like the shapes of people. The still air around them was only stirred by the crying of voices raised in rage or wailing in despair or pleading for mercy and even Gann's usual smile dimmed with the effect of these surroundings.

"Is this a dream?" asked Gann hesitantly. "It seems…"

"Blake… Marsh?" a hoarse distant voice interrupted. Somehow though the voice was faint it overrode the others and it was clear where it came from. Blake glared as he looked ahead of them and saw a figure embedded in what he was beginning to recognise.

"I know that voice…" mused Blake, "and I think this dream might be of the realm of the dead and that be the Wall of the Faithless."

"Then, if you know that man, then shall we speak to him and confirm that thought?"

"Maybe," Blake half smiled, "I suppose as tempting as it is to practice with my new bow, and confirm my skill with it and these arrows it creates are both good enough to make it stronger than my weaker spells, it might be better to speak with him first."

Gann raised his eyebrows. "You seem to bear a grudge."

"Aye," replied Blake simply, starting to walk.

They approached and Blake's fingers began to itch for the pressure of a bowstring against them or a sword hilt within them. The absence of the usual sneer was almost more hindrance to recognising the figure in the Wall than the greenish mould almost covering him or how the colour seemed to have been bleached from his hair and flesh. The angle of his limbs looked like they had been broken or dislocated as he was drawn into the Wall and that explained the pain on his face and in his undamaged eye, the other eye having swollen and turned white.

"Ah, seems you were as faithless to the Gods as you were to me Bishop," Blake said with satisfaction. "This fate makes killing you an even better memory." Blake paused and sighed. "Though I have to remind myself that this is but a dream and so this might be but a hope."

"Savour it all you wish," replied Bishop, managing to almost sound defiant. "I made a stupid mistake, threw in with the losing side. Gloat if you like. I would, if the tables were turned."

"Who is this one? You speak as if there is much history, and much hatred between you."

"Have you assembled a new circus of capering beasts?" mocked Bishop, his head remaining fixed into the mould but his good eye turning to Gann. "Does the pretty Hagspawn sing for his supper, or does he dance as well?"

"Gann is a trusted friend," Blake calmly replied, before giving into the temptation to add, "more so than you ever were."

"And I dance and sing quite well," smiled Gann, "I would add."

"More trusted than the man who opened the gates of your keep to a horde of undead?" chuckled Bishop, managing to force his smirk back to his face. "You should treasure that compliment, Hagspawn, it is clearly heartfelt."

"Don't fool yourself Bishop," Blake said condescendingly. "You did me a service with your treachery. I should thank you for drawing the undead into all trying to squeeze through a single relatively narrow gateway and the Evard's Black Tentacles I cast there. Packing themselves in beneath the murder holes, stumbling over the remains of their destroyed comrades, unable to get out of the way of spells or blastglobes…"

Blake's recitation was interrupted as suddenly the Wall of the Faithless shook like an awakening Dragon. A few shocks were transmitted from it through the ground into Gann and Blake's feet but it was definitely the Wall shaking the ground rather than a groundquake shaking the Wall. Screams rippled up and down the Wall, intermingling and overlapping as those trapped within Wall found their limbs twisted further and the green mould surging out further over them. Some of those screams were cut off with choking as the mould flowed in over their faces and into their open screaming mouths to drown and suffocate them.

"Can you hear it? In the screams… underneath the screams?" Bishop asked desperately, fear replacing the smirk again. "The reason you're here… they all know."

"Then perhaps, Oghma willing, they will share that knowledge," replied Blake, "as personally satisfying as it is to see you in this Wall so far this dream has not been useful in learning more about this curse."

"No, listen…to the shrieks and the moans," said Bishop vaguely. "It's not in the sounds themselves, it's in the pattern, lurking in the echoes, hidden beneath their words. They're infected with hope… waiting for the Crusade to return."

"This is strange," Blake commented, turning to Gann. "He was unpleasant and petty but he'd have no patience for talk of patterns in screams. He'd have either said plainly what he meant or mocked us for not having figured it out."

"And, from our brief acquaintance," smiled Gann, "it seems to me that he'd have mocked you for not figuring it out whether he had figured it out himself or not."

"True, more fun for him to say he is not going to tell me than for him to admit ignorance. Any idea why this dream-creature would be so different?"

Before Gann could reply the screams around them faded, quietened, and turning back to Bishop they saw that he was staring off into the plain grey sky. Looking off into the distance rather than at them. It seemed almost as if the other trapped figures in the Wall of the Faithless were waiting, with more patience than Blake, for what Bishop's next words would be. These were not long coming.

"It ended here," Bishop breathed. "This Wall… it hungers, it drains everything away."

"Hungers," Blake repeated in surprise, "of course. That is the punishment for the Faithless, to be absorbed into this Wall. As I have faith that was never a personal concern but hungering and draining everything does sound familiar."

"Indeed, there may be a connection between the curse and this wall, rather than merely between the curse and Akachi. So this wall may be a 'personal concern' for you after all."

Again the Wall shuddered and this time Bishop was drawn back into it. To Blake's satisfaction there was a painful sounding crack from Bishop's twisted body. To Blake's annoyance although Bishop vomited a plume of green mould, and more of it crept up almost over his face, Bishop was not wholly subsumed to signal the end of the dream and the conversation with the traitor.

"He's seen you," gurgled Bishop through a mouthful of mould, "the God of the Dead, they're coming."

"Again, the God of the Dead," Gann commented, his eyes scanning for any approaching threat. "There is some game being played here, with ancient rules and no concern for those caught in the middle."

"They're coming," gurgled Bishop again.

There was a slight shimmering towards the edge of the cliff and two bat-winged figures began to appear, one much larger than the other. Blake turned and with one fluid motion drew his new bow and released the arrow that had magically appeared. A slight twitch of his hand towards his hip where a quiver of arrows would normally be hanging from the, now less useful, hook on his armour revealed Blake needed practice with this bow to overcome old instincts. But then he drew the bow again and sent another arrow on its way.

The first arrow arced off into the nothingness beyond the cliff, passing through the misty form with so little effect that Blake was not sure if it'd had any. The second arrow though thunked into the chest of the Pit Fiend that had appeared, its magic allowing it to pierce deep into the tough Infernal flesh as it discharged its positive energy and ruptured the cells with too much of the energy of life. Then the arrow vanished and Blake remembered something that was drummed into the Greycloaks during training. If an arrowhead was not barbed and so was less likely to work its way deeper into the flesh it was often better to leave the arrow plugging its own wound. These arrows denied an enemy that choice.

Roaring in anger and pain the Pit Fiend began to advance, the smaller Horned Devil that had appeared seeming happy to keep pace slightly behind it. Blake's new bow sang as he continued to rapidly draw and loose arrows to either simply wound the Pit Fiend or sometimes make it pause and sway. Each time the dizzying effect of the arrows managed to take effect the Pit Fiend swiftly shook it off but the Horned Devil still had to chop its stride to avoid overtaking it. Gann watched the Infernals' advance and then glanced back at Blake.

"I realise you might be having fun with your new toy," Gann commented, holding his spear defensively, "but you said you could inflict more harm with it than your weaker spells?"

Blake paused in his rhythm of peppering the Pit Fiend with arrows and then nodded and smiled. With how much chance the larger Devil had of shrugging off most mages power his bow had been a surer bet than those spells. But even if those spells did fail at least they could fail while he had his sword in his hand. Releasing the arrow he had just drawn he laid his bow carefully on the dead grey ground and drew his sword. Looking at the size of their enemies as he stepped forward a little to join Gann he wondered if he would have been better off using the time instead to try to unsling his shield from his back and strap it onto his arm.

The Pit Fiend shook his head and wings and roared again as the last of the dizziness left him. Wiping one great clawed hand across his chest he looked at the blood and ichors on his fingers and at the wounds that had been inflicted on him and snarled. "You will pay for this mortal," the Pit Fiend threatened. "You will beg for death, we shall drag you down…"

As the Infernal ranted Blake calmly chanted and completed a spell of Vitriolic Sphere. A globule of thick green formed in front of him in response to his words and streaked out into the surprised Pit Fiend. The thinner acid splashed out over both Infernals, despite the Horned Devil's attempts to remain sheltered, while the thicker more jelly like acid clung to the Pit Fiend. Acid burned at their thick skin and making matters worse for the larger Infernal some entered the wounds on its chest to eat at the more delicate flesh within. Seeing this and the smoke of corrosion rising from the wounds Blake cursed slightly to himself before he chanted and cast his Greater Missile Storm. The projectiles of magic energy that arced away from him burnt more holes in the thick skin of their winged foes and had he cast the spells the other way around those holes could have admitted acid.

The impacts along with the extra pain that it was suffering from the acid staggered the Pit Fiend back a little and gave the Horned Devil an unenviable choice. So far it had managed to keep behind the other Infernal but now this would be impossible without being too obvious about it. It hesitated and then decided that whatever extra pain these mortals might inflict would pale by comparison with what the Pit Fiend would do to it when they returned to the Hells. Reluctantly the Horned Devil stepped out of the cover of the larger Infernal and began circling to one side and towards Gann, who smiled and raised his spear to honour the threat.

Blake and Gann glanced to each other and gave a slight nod before, with magic enhanced muscles and speed, Blake sprang forward. He trusted Gann to protect his flank and hoped to reach the Pit Fiend while it was still staggered. The trust worked better than the hope as the Pit Fiend set itself and swept one great clawed hand to try to tear Blake's head off. Meanwhile though Gann had met the attempt by the Horned Devil to spring at Blake and driven it back as his spear stabbed out and flicked into the holes the Greater Missile Storm had burned in its natural leather armour. Blake ducked slightly and brought his sword up two-handed to point at the grey sky, letting the Pit Fiend's blow bring its hand onto this raised blade. A shock ran through Blake's wrists and elbows as he resisted the impact from driving his sword back against him and as fingertips were sheared from the Pit Fiend.

The Pit Fiend roared in pain from this and then as Blake whipped his sword around and at its thigh. Even two-handed this blow did not chop far into the tough flesh but Blake twisted and drew the blade back and managed to deepen it slightly. His lips tightened though as he took a half step back, raising his sword back up into a guard position, and he saw the lack of blood from the wound and that the leg was still supporting the Pit Fiend's weight with no trouble. Blake had hoped to cripple the leg or put the Pit Fiend in danger of bleeding out and it looked like this would be a lot harder than against those Frost Giants. To make matters worse there were the wings.

A giant could be circled to move around it to cut at the back of the knee or ankle, cut at the base of the spine before it could turn, or stab up at its kidneys as you passed. Many of the fighting techniques honed by Halflings learning to even the odds against the taller races worked when the opponents were scaled up. However the wings on this Pit Fiend blocked being able to get past it. And meant that instead of twisting one way, like a Giant, to keep facing him the Infernal might instead twist the other way to sweep its wing into him. Blake felt his reflexes were reasonably good but his foe having that choice still made things more difficult.

Taking another half-step back Blake kept the Pit Fiend in front of him so whether it was wing or arm, or even leg or teeth, the attacks would all be coming from one direction. Then he sprang again and swept his sword through a powerful horizontal arc that left him momentarily off balance and seemed too unsubtle a blow. To Blake's surprise though the Pit Fiend didn't react and shrink back or move forward in counter-attack. Either would have affected his blow as it was made too shallow to be effective or deep enough that the drag of blade through Infernal flesh could have slowed Blake dangerously. Instead it was just deep enough.

The muscles and skin of the Pit Fiend's abdomen parted and a bubble like swamp gas making its way up through mud appeared as the membrane holding its guts in bulged out through the slit. Surprised at the pain as it had been many centuries since it had been the one suffering rather than the one inflicting the torments the Pit Fiend bent slightly and grabbed at the wound to push and hold its innards in. Blake tilted his sword up a little and brought it back in a slightly upward curve now the Infernal's neck was more within reach. The tip of the blade cut across the front of the Pit Fiend's throat and there was a bubbly sort of roar from it as it felt the pain and as blood seeped between its veins and its windpipe. Blake took a moment to glance to see how Gann was doing.

Blood and ichor was leaking from the Horned Devil as it moved and as Gann stabbed and widened and deepened the holes Blake's spell had burned in its skin. None of these wounds were that serious but their combined effect was beginning to tell on Gann's foe. Blake hesitated and considered whether he could afford the time to attack the Horned Devil with sword or magic and further tip the balance in his friend's favour. Another Greater Missile Storm would give Gann more holes to exploit or a quick stab or slice while Gann kept its attention. Blake took a step towards the duelling pair.

"Look out," Gann snapped.

Blake sidestepped and ducked almost instantly as he trusted Gann. A slight spray of Infernal blood rained down across him as the Pit Fiend swung its maimed hand and, thanks to Gann's warning, did nothing more than produce that spray from its severed fingertips. Blake turned back towards the towering Infernal he had foolishly assumed preoccupied with its throat and gut wounds and dabbed out with his sword at its knee. The blow had more speed than power but fortune favoured Blake and it carved into the side and rear of the knee where the skin was thinner to allow the leg to more easily bend.

The Pit Fiend had been concerned with holding its innards in so the blow had been a clumsy one that had already left it a little off balance. As flesh parted and the damage and the pain made its knee no longer support it the Pit Fiend staggered with the momentum of its swing. Despite a few desperate flaps of its wings it couldn't stop itself and it fell into the Horned Devil. The two winged figures were entangled for a moment and seeing a chance Gann stabbed forward with his spear, hard, and deep into the Pit Fiend's eye. Bone grated against metal as the force of Gann's thrust drove the spearhead into the socket and then through the brain and into the back of the Infernal's skull.

"I meant to do that," commented Blake, smiling to show he was joking.

"Of course," Gann replied, deadpan, yanking at the spearshaft without success. "And I meant to do this, trapping my spear was always my intent."

Blake nodded as the Pit Fiend's wing moved with more than death throes. Like a cat emerging from under a blanket, though hideous rather than cute, the Horned Devil managed to crawl out from under there and its eyes fixed on Gann and his problem. It began to raise itself up onto one knee and get a foot under itself to spring forward while the Hagspawn that had inflicted all this pain on it no longer had that spear to use. Then its predatory snarl shifted for a moment in realisation as it heard a slight clank and remembered there were two enemies. With both hands and his armour-clad weight Blake brought his sword down onto the back of the Horned Devil's neck. Despite the size of his sword, the magic enhancing it, and his strength this only cut partway through the neck and Blake had to wrench the blade free and hack down again to finish decapitating the Infernal and make sure it was dead. Blood gushed from the stump of the neck, soaking the dead grey soil and some spurting as far as the nearby Gann.

"Do you have to be quite so messy?" Gann asked, only half joking as he stepped away from the edge of the puddle of blood and glanced at the damp spots on his leather armour. "You will note that I didn't get any blood on you."

"True," admitted Blake, "and those stains might be harder to remove than rips in the armour would have been to mend."

"I do prefer to have not tested the good will of the spirits," Gann smiled, "by having to ask them to mend the rips in me as well."

They had learned from the problem with the Wyverns and Blake quickly wiped his sword over with the magically absorbent self-cleaning cloth that had more than made itself worth the price he'd paid for it. Then Blake slid his sword into its scabbard and drew his dagger to begin chipping away at the Pit Fiend's tough face to widen the eyesocket and help free the spear. Gann wobbled the spear about to work it free as Blake stabbed until finally with a squelch it slid out.

"It may be my instincts speaking falsely," suggested Gann, his confident tone at odds with the modest words as he wiped gore from his armour and his spear and himself, "but I think it may benefit us to examine the section of Wall where your 'friend' used to be."

Blake nodded as he polished at an armour plate. Whatever fluid of whichever Infernal it had been that had splashed there it had dissolved at the dirt so a small shiny clean spot appeared under the magic cloth. Blake noticed this and wondered whether to polish his armour at the next chance or leave it dulled and unreflective. He'd never be as sneaky as Neeshka, even without his armour, but no reason to risk a glint making him even more obvious. Placing this cloth away and deciding that was a question for later Blake started over towards where Bishop had been.

"Your instincts have often proved true, Gann…" Blake commented as he peered at the Wall.

"Only often?" smiled Gann, with mock hurt.

"And have proved true again," Blake concluded. The green mould that had coated Bishop and that he had vomited had closed over his face and head but like a man drowned in swamp mud one hand was still reaching out past the surface. Blake tilted his head to examine the hand from a slightly different angle and then began digging into the mould covering it and trying to prise the fingers open to free what they were clenched around, exclaiming as he did.

"Problem?" Gann asked as he heard the sub-vocal curse.

"This looks nice and soft and mossy," replied Blake, considering scraping the hand with his dagger, "but there are sharp barbs underneath. Feels like those are digging into my gauntlet leather."

"Better that than your flesh."

"True enough," Blake admitted, giving one final tug and freeing the object. He held it so Gann could see and for a moment they both considered it.

"Another mask fragment," mused Gann, wondering if it was the surroundings or the material that made it look so maggot grey and appear to absorb rather than reflect what light there was. "These are taking on a greater significance."

"Maybe," Blake replied, sounding unconvinced. "They are at least clues to something, and retrieving this does seem to have triggered a portal just as taking the other ended that Mosstone dream. What connection they have to anything else though…"

"Is something we can ask the Slumbering Coven," Gann suggested, before his face darkened and he added, "and after hearing my mother's story I do have many questions to ask them."

"Remember the Red Wizards in the previous dream…"

"And your, belated, concern that you might have learned more from them?" Gann interrupted. "Don't worry, I intend to talk, to war with words before anything else, rather than follow your example, as fine as it is of course."

Blake nodded and led the way to and through the portal. The world shifted around them again and reformed into the Chamber of Dreamers. To Blake's mild surprise as well as the Illithid standing to one side there were also Hags floating in their columns of light. It seemed they might have found the centre of this dream where the mind dreaming it were but then Blake frowned as he looked closer at the Hags.

"Do these seem… not quite real," Blake asked, turning quizzically to Gann, "if such a term has meaning here."

"These are truly the Slumbering Coven," replied Gann, "but… at one remove… if that makes sense?"

"It does," Blake nodded. "Before he was turned into a Shadow Reaver I first saw that necromancer when I saw him giving orders through an illusion. He could see and hear his subordinates, they could see and hear him, that was how he looked and those were his words, so he was as close to being there as he could be without actually being there."

"Well, like those people, we could speak to the Slumbering Coven through these dream forms," replied Gann, "and my skills are such to ensure these would remain truthful in what they show. But I think the Hags have enough advantage without being able to keep us at… minds length."

"I still do not want to know what that is dreaming of," Blake said, gesturing at the Illithid, "but as little as we have learned if that has learned even a fraction as much from its Dreamscape then it has learned too much."

"And at least it is still apparently trapped," commented Gann in reply, "though the more vigorously we demand answers from the Hags the more likely that dream would break and release it."

"Then we had best see to it," grumbled Blake, "even though it would only be released to Okku's teeth or Neeshka's blade it could be a needless distraction."

Gann gave a sympathetic smile at that tone and then concentrated his dreamwalking abilities on bringing their dream and that of the Mind Flayer in tune. What appeared to be a mine, though one strangely subdivided, took shape around them and standing there was the dreamform of the Illithid. For a second they looked at each other before the Illithid's face tentacles squirmed in concentration.

'Did Ilsensine send you to rescue me,' the Illithid thought at them, 'or are you with the Githyanki?'

"I am no friend of the Githyanki," Blake replied, bringing images of the fights he'd had with them to the front of his mind, "an enemy more like… but I will see you dead rather than rescued."

'You will not see me cornered!' exclaimed the Illithid mentally. 'I will not be caught!'

With that the Illithid turned and fled, its long robes concealing its legs so it almost seemed to glide. This movement was smooth rather than swift however and even without Blake's magic enhancing their speed it seemed doubtful that it would be able to outrun him and Gann. The many doorways and divisions of this dreamscape did suggest though that it might manage to sneak around. Fortunately it had made the suggestion that it needed to be cornered.

"You go left and parallel," Blake said, waving that direction and drawing his sword. "I'll head straight on after."

Gann nodded and bounded into motion to outflank the Illithid while Blake began clanking on directly. Hearing the pursuit the Illithid spared Blake a look over its shoulder and darted to its left. Blake glanced left and saw that Gann had been smart and had gone two rather than only one division that way. Neither of them could see the Illithid now but they could see if it crossed their line of sight and, keeping pace with each other, they could signal if it did. There were not that many of the subdivisions visible ahead so the Illithid would have to turn one way or other soon.

To Blake's surprise it headed back to where he could see it. So far he'd not seen any corridors heading to his right, each division had a solid wall that way, so it would have made more sense to him that the Illithid would continue left past where Gann was watching. As Gann caught his eye Blake gestured straight ahead to try to convey that was where the Illithid was. Gann looked a little puzzled and then nodded and started running faster, thinking it was a signal to charge. With a sigh Blake tried to also speed up despite his heavier armour.

The Illithid took a moment to realise the change in the pace of the footsteps pursuing it but when it did it glanced at Blake again and headed back to its left. It was only out of sight for a moment though as it recoiled back when Gann came into sight ahead of it. A human to one side of it, a Hagspawn to another, and a wall to a third left it only one doorway to plunge through. And then as its pursuers kept up with it there was again only one doorway. But then there was nothing but blank walls on two sides of it and armed members of the "slave races" on the other two.

'I may be caught,' the Illithid hissed mentally, 'but you won't find me easy prey!'

A wave of mental energy flowed out from it and into Blake who staggered slightly at the telekinetic shove. His boot soles slid slightly before they dug into the loose earth of the floor and although the Illithid's body language and, especially, its face were very different something about it conveyed triumph. Then Gann's spearhead sliced through the thin robe and into where most bipeds kept one of their kidneys. A physical rather than mental noise came from the Mind Flayer as breath was driven from it and then Blake struck. His sword cleanly sliced through the Illithid's thin neck and some of the dangling face-tentacles so the octopus like head bounced from the shoulders and off the nearby wall. Gann wrenched his spear back to let the body also fall and they looked down at it for a moment.

"Yes we did," Blake informed the corpse, despite it being past being able to hear the reply. Then he glanced around, "I am very glad you are here Gann."

"Of course you are, though I take it from your tone there is more to that comment than the obvious reason of the joy of my company."

"This dreamscape does not look informative for the Mind Flayer, does not seem like it would have held any answers for it. And that it contains Githyanki would make it more a nightmare than a dream for it."

"Ah, I think I see your thought," Gann nodded, "you suggest this dreamscape might be more the doing of the Slumbering Coven than this Illithid?"

"Tales do say Mind Flayers are conceited in their mental powers and intellect," replied Blake, wiping off and scabbarding his sword, "so it might have tried to match those against the Hags to gain more than they were willing to give."

"I am not so sure," Gann mused, "though I can see why you would think it perhaps a prison this is no more useless a dream than that deserted Inn. Unless you think the gambler might have learned from the losses you inflicted…?"

"Seems doubtful."

"But I agree," Gann finished, "this, and that, and the Wizard being in a simple house rather than a great library full of lawyers do all seem less helpful than what we have seen with the Theatre, and the Red Wizards, and that grotesque Wall. I do not think the Slumbering Coven have tried to hinder us though so I have not had to protect us from any such efforts."

Blake slowly nodded. "Could still be due to your presence, or that your focus and the power of your mother's eye are great enough to shrug their attempts aside like a bull barely noticing the bush it trampled. But let's search and see if we can find a portal before we decide if our progress has been hindered."

Gann smiled and together they began methodically working their way through the grid of squares of divisions of this strange mine. To their relief in one corner there were some stairs and dimly glowing at the top of them was another swirling portal disk. Blake paused and sighed again. "Hopefully this is back to the hags rather than another diversion."

"Unfortunately there is only one way to find out."

There was no arguing with that and these dreams had seemed consistent in there only ever being the one portal onwards so with some foreboding Blake stepped through the portal and back into a dream of the Chamber of Dreamers. The Hags were still there but somehow seemed more solid and all around them the air was filled with whispers. These seemed random at first but slowly there seemed to be a pattern emerging, as if the rise and fall of the whispers were waves on the sea but overlaying that pattern was the greater one of the tides. Blake squirmed slightly and cursed under his breath.

"It's like fleas in my underwear," Blake muttered, "except crawling on my brain, under my helmet, under my skull."

"I think you need to do your laundry with more care," commented Gann, "if you are that familiar with the sensation of fleas. But here… allow me."

Gann concentrated and to Blake's relief the prickling eased. "My thanks," Blake said before turning his attention back to the Hags. "These seem more real and the whispers are either focussing on us, so we have their attention, or I am getting better at hearing the flow of them."

"Perhaps both," replied Gann, "though more the former I think. Which is perhaps not good if we have too much of their attention now they no longer have the distraction of the other dreams. An ancient Hag, with all the cunning that suggests, is a formidable foe in conversation and with this Coven's link we may be trying to match wits with all of them at once rather than as individuals."

"You saying we should not have broken those dreams?" Blake asked, a little annoyed that Gann was bringing this up now, when it was too late as it had already been done.

"There seemed no other way to continue on," Gann pointed out, "and leaving the humans to die, or the Illithid to live, would not have sat well with either of us. I am simply warning you that we must be cautious when, and if, the Slumbering Coven is willing to…"

'SPEAK', commanded a voice as the whispers merged into one for that moment.

Gann and Blake glanced at each other. They had both heard singing or chanting where many voices combined but even the best trained choir were still separate and there was still the very slight variation in their timing. That this was so much a single voice made seamlessly of the different whispers bore out Gann's fear that this might be closer to a single mind than a gathering. Gann nodded slightly to Blake and took a breath.

"You are the Slumbering Coven," Gann began, unable to think of a less obvious opening statement, "the ones who have slept beneath Rashemen."

'Yes,' replied the united voice, reducing its intensity to a more conversational level.

"The slayers of my father, the warden of my mother," Gann continued, anger entering his voice, "and the ones who punished her never to sleep, never to dream."

'Yes,' the Slumbering Coven said, with no hint of apology.

Gann paused to see if they would explain or attempt to justify their actions. They remained silent so he went on. "Why? She did not attack you, she did n…"

'SHE BROKE OUR LAW, SPAWN,' interrupted the Hags, their individual voices almost rising above a whisper in the outburst before returning to a less overpowering volume. 'The one you travel with - he is the product of such broken laws, as are you. Transgressions must be punished, or they are repeated.'

"I agree," replied Gann, "and that is why we are here to punish you."

"Wha…" Blake said before cutting off his protest. They had come to this city for answers on the curse, that they had also discovered the fate of Gann's parents had not changed the original need. Before he could decide whether to take over the conversation though the Slumbering Coven's whispers resolved again into a reply.

'No,' said the Slumbering Coven with confidence, 'not unless you want this place to unravel around you, to see all dreams, all the chambers of this city flooded and gone. To do so would kill you as well, and much farther do we think you have to travel.'

"You… should still be held accountable for what you have done…" Blake said, intending to continue by saying 'but we need answers…". Before he could continue though Gann was speaking again.

"My father, what happened to him?"

'Dead and gone, by our law,' came the Coven's satisfied reply. 'As your mother gave in to her appetites so was she forced to devour her own mate… in the manner of all Hags, piece by piece, leaving just enough alive to scream.'

"By your law you say," hissed Gann. "Then all I wish is that the same justice be brought upon you and that you feel its selfsame mercy."

'More powerful than you have threatened us, spawn,' retorted the Slumbering Coven, contempt for Gann's threat oozing from every mental word. 'You though, spirit-eater, you have questions as well as threats. Ask them.'

"Those dreams you showed me," Blake said, not wasting politeness, "why? And what did they mean?"

'We? We showed you nothing,' corrected the Hags, 'you showed us and we drank deep of them. Such was the price of your passage and of the words we speak to you now. They came from the deepest places of your mind, where dreams mingle with hidden and forgotten things.'

"It seems more likely they came from the curse rather than my mind," Blake contradicted, before sighing. "No matter, that is not the question." He paused and thought and continued. "Two women came before you, not long ago, and you gave them advice. Something to do with me or the curse I now bear."

'Yes,' admitted the Slumbering Coven. 'The White Twin and the Red. Lienna and Nefris.'

Blake nodded at the confirmation of what he had learned and of the similarity of the women. "What advice did you give?" Blake asked, frowning as a second question occurred. "Did they curse me with this hunger on your orders circle of Hags?"

There almost seemed a mental chuckle before the Slumbering Coven's whispers merged again. 'They sought to end your affliction… your hunger,' the Hag voice claimed 'to spare you from this suffering.'

"That seems… unlikely," Blake said with some understatement. "Were it not for them I would still be on the Sword Coast and this curse would still be imprisoned in the barrow rather than trying to break free from inside me. Or are you confusing me with my curse like so many have?"

The prickling around Blake's mind eased even further than it had from Gann's aid as the whispers faded back towards becoming inaudible. They moved out of their joint rhythm like soldiers breaking step and began to echo back and forth in debate rather than in unison. It seemed they were agreed on their response to Gann's threats but less agreed on how to reply to Blake's questions. Then suddenly the pattern returned and the unified voice spoke again.

'We are creatures of dreams, not of words,' sneered the Slumbering Coven. 'Telling is cumbersome, we will show you what you wish to know.'

"Proceed," growled Blake, "but no tricks."

Two women appeared and Blake's hand twitched towards his sword before he realised this was not reality or even a dream to take part in. This was a memory being displayed. Blake hoped that Gann would be able to detect any falseness in what was being shown and that this would be less ambiguous than the memories from the curse that he and Gann had seen in dreams. The two women were very similar, did appear to be identical twins, and appear to be almost identical to the versions of the Red Woman they had seen.

There was something strange going on though. Mothers and daughters could appear very similar and for most of the time between the young Red Wizard waking him and Neeshka killing her Blake had felt on the edge of passing out so it was hard to remember exactly what the young Red Wizard had looked like. So the feeling there was too much resemblance there was likely a mistake. What seemed less likely was that after centuries that two women and the daughter of one would all be so close to the appearance of the curse-memories of their distant ancestor. Though as one began to speak Blake decided this was a puzzle for another time.

"See us, hags of the Coven," said what Blake assumed to be Nefris from her Red Wizard robes, "and know us for what we are."

"We beseech your wisdom," added the other, clad in white and apparently Lienna, "and bear gifts of dreams to trade… dreams of a sort even you have never seen."

'We have heard tales of you in the dreams of the living,' replied the Slumbering Coven in this memory-dream, 'and reflected in the dying minds of those who perished in our sanctum. Your dreams are a treasure, unique in our hoard… like worlds seen through different facets of the same ancient stone. Your question resounds across the infinity of your dreams… but in this place, you must speak it aloud. Speak.'

"We… we would know how to end the affliction," said Lienna nervously, "the curse that the Rashemi call the 'spirit-eater'. We have searched so long, sisters of the Coven, we…"

"Tell us how to end the hunger," Nefris interrupted, her confident demand contrasting with Lienna's request where her appearance had not. "How can the eater of souls be granted peace?"

There was quiet in the dream for a long moment as the two women waited for a reply and the whispering of the Slumbering Coven paused. To Blake they seemed uncertain but also willing to think hard and make whatever suggestion might earn them the dreams they considered such a treasure. The pause also let Blake think and wonder at why the dreams were so unique when identical twins were not that rare. Another puzzle perhaps.

'That affliction is a punishment, meted out by one who once reigned as God of the Dead,' the Slumbering Coven said, saying what they knew before admitting their ignorance of a direct answer. 'He alone knows its beginnings, and he alone might bring about its end.'

"You speak of Myrkul," Lienna exclaimed. "But… but, he is dead."

"We seek an answer, not a riddle," added Nefris in disgust. "That God of the Dead has passed beyond thought or dream. He has been slain long ago and his throne usurped. His knowledge is lost."

'Not lost,' corrected the Slumbering Coven. 'Myrkul is a corpse, true, but his thoughts and dreams remain, marooned now inside the rotting hulk of his mind. He dreams endlessly of old enemies come to grief and ancient slights avenged. As long as he is remembered and feared by mortals, even if they are pitiful and few, his dreaming will persist and his mind shall endure.'

"Then we must speak… to a dead god?" said Lienna, somewhat incredulous of the idea.

"It can be done," Nefris told her "twin" with more confidence. "That is all we would know, sisters of the Coven, thank you…"

With that the dream-memory within the dreamscape faded as the women departed. Blake turned slightly to Gann and they saw the questions in each other's eyes. Much had been said and seen in these dreams and it would take some sitting and thinking and sleeping to sort their thoughts. Gann nodded to Blake as he realised that they had confirmed one thing clearly.

"Then this curse is a result of Myrkul, as you deduced," Gann commented before adding. "These gods of your people seem careless in their punishments."

'Your people? Those Gods watch you as well Gann-of-Dreams,' interjected the voice of the Slumbering Coven. 'All their laws and all their punishments will fall on you as well. And if you truly do not believe in them then one of their harshest laws shall be inflicted upon you… to lie in the Wall of the Faithless you saw until you dissolve as a fading dream. So keep your defiance, if you must, but it will not last when death comes for you dream-thing.'

Gann opened his mouth to argue back but Blake spoke first. "Your answer only gives fresh questions, if they could speak to Myrkul then tell me how."

'The Red Twin knew… or thought she did. We saw that much in her dreams. But she returned to Thay. To her Academy… a horror of dreamless voids and fractured souls.'

"Then my answers are in a Thayan Academy?" Blake groaned. "One that recently was overrun by a coup that might have been part of a centuries old conflict?"

'Yes,' said the Slumbering Coven, sounding pleased at Blake's displeasure, 'and so you will leave the sooner we shall also tell you this. The White Twin kept portals in her secret room and if you beg passage of her Keeper-of-Doors then it will open the way. Beyond that portal lies the Academy and either your death or your answers. But we care not which you find or what you do spirit-eater. We have spoken enough and you have troubled our dream too long.'

"And your dreams have troubled this world too long. You have been a malevolence and that and your dreaming will end now in your death."

"Yesss," hissed Gann, seeming almost feral rather than urbane. "Bring their dreaming to an end, show them the pain of the waking world."

'Wizard, you seek knowledge and learning and if you end us then all our dream contains is lost,' countered the voice of the Coven. 'How much magic could you learn and how well could you learn to rule your keep from the knowledge of wizards and kings we preserve? That knowledge, the dreams of a thousand thousand souls, their triumphs and mistakes to learn from, the hopes and loves of men and women and beasts, can be found nowhere else. They are centuries dead and forgotten by all save us and our unending dream. Such a trove as has never been assembled, here or anywhere across the planes… this you would destroy for your own selfish whim.'

Blake faltered. Gann's father was long dead and Gann's mother long since driven insane. Destroying the Slumbering Coven would do them no good and the loss of this knowledge could do others great harm. That this had been gathered by evil means tainted the Hags rather than what they had gathered and, in the cold calculation of advantage, the sacrifice of a few for a greater good could be justified. Blake had been willing to fight to the last man at Crossroad Keep. To sacrifice himself and his friends and his Greycloaks to buy time for Neverwinter and reinforcements from the Lords' Alliance.

There was also a rumour that Oghma had managed to ensure there was a special place in the Hells for those that burned libraries and Blake did not wish to be ranked with those. So much knowledge had been lost. So often people had to rediscover ancient knowledge and artefacts because those were so much greater than anything modern people could do. If these Hags could prevent future generations from having to search out ruins of Rashemen or Neverwinter in the same way as ruins of Netheril or Illefarn were sought out now…

But then Blake glanced at Gann and realised that he owed more to his friend, here and now, than to people not yet born. "It is far from a whim and far from an easy choice," Blake reluctantly said, wondering how often and how much knowledge had been lost to this sort of decision. "But whether you are feeling Tyr's justice or Hoar's revenge you must feel death for the sake of Gann's parents and all who have died and rotted around your sleeping feet."

"So be it!" Gann cheered, not sharing Blake's reluctance. "My spirits are ready to fight with us… to their second deaths if need be."

'You have not the power, nor the will,' gibed the Slumbering Coven, gathering their strength to fight now their argument had failed against Blake's soft-heart if not against his logic. 'Stupid arrogant thing… how many hundreds have tried to usurp our place, but we took their power and absorbed their dreams.'

"This one does not stand alone, but with me," Gann calmly and confidently replied. "I am no novice to the unravelling of dreams and ambitions of others, together you will not find us easy to resist."