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.

15. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The conversation had wound down and they had settled around the fire. Okku naturally did not sleep but Blake and Gann also found it difficult since as weary as they were in mind their bodies had rested. Blake had the advantage of having been taught the importance for a soldier of taking sleep when you could. He also though had a devoted and happily sleeping Tiefling snuggled to him and her weight on his arm and her head on his chainmail covered chest did stop him shifting position. Worse still, perhaps, even through their armour the feel of her against him did make it difficult to calm his thoughts and relax into sleep.

Eventually Blake dozed a little while Gann chatted very quietly with Okku, relaxing his thoughts to idle conversation and his body to languor rather than actual sleep. The sun had risen to its full height before they broke camp and continued on the rest of the day before camping again. Blake spent some time by the light of a spell on writing down the thoughts he had sorted during the walk. This time he and Gann were tired enough by the walking to have less trouble with sleep despite Neeshka snuggling the former and Gann's tendency to wax poetic and at length. Dawn had come again and having reclaimed his arm and chest Blake had managed to get dressed and strap his plates back on over his chainmail.

He looked rather tentative and then with visible determination began an arcane incantation. Ignoring this as they were used to his routine the others were startled when Blake exclaimed in triumph and looked so happy at his success. For a moment they just looked at each other, exchanging glances of mutual puzzlement, before Okku rumbled and shifted the gaze of his yellow eyes to Blake.

"You seem unusually happy little-one, very proud of casting a spell for one so used to it."

Blake nodded. "Mystra has blessed me. You know each day I take off the chainmail I slept in to cast the spells that persist all day?"

"Yes," Gann smiled, "after all these days we had noticed you getting unarmoured before getting armoured again."

"This time I tried after I put my plates over the chainmail I slept in," grinned Blake.

Okku just looked puzzled but Neeshka jumped at Blake and into his arms. This was not much excuse but she was willing to take any for a celebratory kiss. Blake's arms automatically enfolded her and he wished a little that he'd not donned his breastplate already. You could not feel much through chainmail but it did flex and bend in a little so he'd have felt more of the specifics of where Neeshka was pressing against him rather than just a general pressure. Their heads were still bare though so her full lips were available and, even had he wanted to resist, she had a surprising amount of strength in her slender arms and fingers and was determined to use this to bring his face to hers.

"Congratulations," Gann said eventually. He'd waited for Neeshka to finish occupying Blake's lips with her own partially out of politeness, partially because he was sure Blake would not have been listening while engaged in such, and partially because you could not speak to reply while your mouth was otherwise engaged.

"Thank you," Blake replied, looking down at Neeshka still nestled in his arms and brushing a kiss over her forehead between her perky horns.

"But," added Gann, "although it has served the purpose of getting you kissed I admit I am unsure why you were so jubilant. I do recall your magic, unlike mine, is affected by those great lumps of metal but you have seemed to be overcoming that problem. Quite often and very consistently in fact."

Blake took a deep breath to gather his thoughts and tried to ignore how this swelled his chest against Neeshka's. "There are ways to manipulate spells," he explained as she gave him a little squeeze back, "exert yourself more to make them more powerful or less random in their power, to make them last longer, to…" He paused and reluctantly moved one gauntlet-covered hand off Neeshka to hold it up a little. "Avoid the need to make the gestures."

"Ah," nodded Gann in understanding, "and like a biscuit is twice-cooked so was that spell. Both to avoid the gestures and to make it last all day."

"Exactly," Blake nodded, returning his hand to Neeshka, "though you might have been right in your first reaction. Many spells all I can do is make it last twice as long, and in some ways is better to have two spells rather than one that lasts longer."

"Always difficult to decide between having two 'spells' or having it last twice as long…" grinned Neeshka salaciously, looking up at her harbour-boy.

"Are you still talking about magic?" Gann asked dryly.

Neeshka wriggled in Blake's arms a little to turn enough to look over her shoulder and wink at him. "I think so," she said before putting on an expression of shock and an innocent tone into her voice. "Why? Whatever else could I have meant?"

"The mind boggles," smiled Gann.

"Er…ahem," Blake blinked.

"You do realise you don't need to master new arcane skills to get a kiss don't you?" said Neeshka, admiring how Blake was gently blushing.

Blake gave her a last quick hug and then stepped back before she could protest or clamp on harder. "But you do realise that is extra motivation?"

"I think students of magic would study harder if all were thus motivated," Gann teased.

"Study harder perhaps," Blake admitted, squirming slightly as a disadvantage of kissing in full armour made itself known. "But perhaps not with greater success as it does seem to hinder rational thought. I needed to not have her in my arms before I could think clearly enough to realise that it took the same degree of extra power to avoid the gesturing as it does to make the spells last twice as long."

"So your lady will be happy," said Gann with a friendly leer and wiggle of his eyebrows. "Now with your new biscuit skill for the same effort you can have two spells that both last twice as long."

Calmly and with great dignity Neeshka stuck her tongue out at Gann like a street urchin. Even Okku rumbled very slightly in amusement at the antics of the mortals despite his impatience for the delays they caused with their sleeping and eating and resting and bantering. This amusement did not allay his concern though. In some ways it might have been better had the hunger found someone with less loyalty in his heart. Someone who would be coldly using allies to free himself of the curse rather than loving one and, it seemed, becoming good friends with another. Memories were still fleeting but he was confident he had sacrificed deeply for his oath and the more he saw the less confident he was that Blake would do the same.

The morning passed and the sun began to make its slow way back down towards the horizon though it had not fallen far past its peak before the walls of Mulsantir again came into view. The guards did not give them much of a look as they entered the gates as by now it had become well known the outlander and Gann-of-Dreams were travelling with the mighty-bear-god. Within the city although the people of the city gave them a wide berth this was more due to respect for Okku rather than the fear that had lingered after he had laid siege to them. Soon they had climbed the hill and were approaching the Statues of the Three.

Alerted by the change in the quality of the background hubbub Sheva looked towards the entrance to the Witches area. "You have returned child, what have you to say?"

"The first is that the Slumbering Coven will trouble the dreams of Rashemen no more," Blake replied respectfully. "They answered the questions I had for them and then we served justice for the death of Gann's father and the driving into insanity of Gann's mother."

"That is… good news," replied Sheva, exchanging startled looks with Kazimika. She hesitated a moment in shock before continuing. "The Witches had long considered a strike against those Hags but felt the cost in blood to our Berserkers too high. It is… impressive that you managed to defeat them."

Blake frowned as he noticed the looks and hesitations. "You sound dubious," he almost growled. "Do you think I lie? Do you think that, whatever mistrust you still have for me, Okku would agree to such a deception?"

"No child, we do not doubt what you say," Sheva said placatingly. "Merely that had you asked our advice we would have doubted that, even with Okku's aid, you would have had the power to accomplish this… so it came as somewhat of a surprise."

"Realising who they'd be messing with if they messed with my harbour-boy!"

"He did slay many of them," Blake replied to Sheva, ignoring Neeshka's happy mutter, "though they were quite easy prey as weakened as their bodies were by their long slumber. Gann deserves much credit as it was he who managed to disrupt their dream and their protective magics."

"With your help within the dream," demurred Gann, with a slight bow of the head, "and your willpower, despite your doubts over the loss of their knowledge, bolstering mine as I found the links that bound that endless dream together."

"And as weak as the flesh of those Hags was," Okku rumbled, "it would still have been difficult, even for a god-of-bears, to fight through their guards and those that had wished to see them."

Blake nodded to the pair of them and then reached into his pack to withdraw a box. "The other matter is this. We have learned something of this Curse, confirmed various suspicions so it is almost certain it was the creation of Myrkul as his punishment on Akachi the Betrayer. Why the curse still lingers after so long and why it takes new hosts we don't know. However I have gained some insights into how to suppress the hunger and into the history of previous victims."

"You wish us to have this information?" Sheva asked, taking the box. "To pass on if you fail?"

"Or simply for your archives if we succeed," smiled Blake. "But yes, more clues may be found in the Wells of Lurue where we travel to next but we have learned enough for it to be worth leaving some record whether for success or failure."

"I shall keep it safe, child," Sheva nodded, "though, as you do, I hope I shall not need to use it to advise another host."

"Thank you," said Blake politely, before turning to the younger witch. "Oh, and Kazimika, you were wrong about me but if I die and this curse passes to someone else you would almost certainly be right next time… stay suspicious."

With another exchange of half bows and good wishes for the journey Blake and the others departed and began making their way down the hill and past the Berserker Lodge towards the second half of the descent. Gann glanced ahead at the bustle of the marketplace and then at Blake strolling downhill with his hat on his head, his shield on his back, and Neeshka on his arm. There was a slight risk to this as it did part her concealing cloak a little and walking so close to each other did slow their pace but Neeshka was not going to waste the opportunity.

"That was kind of you to forgive her," Gann commented.

For a moment Blake was puzzled until he realised which 'her' Gann meant as the 'her' that came to mind first was the one he was walking arm in arm with. "I would have preferred there to have been nothing to forgive," he replied, after that brief pause, "but the more we learned of previous hosts the more forgivable her attitude became. I'd not want her to over-compensate for the mistake she made with me and extend too much trust to a spirit-eater that might need to be mistrusted."

"As I have said, little-one," rumbled Okku, "that concern is moot; we are not going to fail."

Blake nodded rather than argue. He shared much of the bear-god's confidence but not his contempt for taking a little time to plan for failure. Glancing at the shadows and up at the sun he nodded again. "We still have hours of daylight, so we could make a start…" Neeshka made an appealing noise and pointed, so Blake smoothly finished. "Once we have bought some fresh fruit and freshly cooked cold meats."

A few replacement supplies, and some more perishable snacks, bought they headed out of the gate. Okku disdained the snacks as the meat was not of his own killing and the fruit was something he didn't want to admit to liking. Bears were far more omnivorous than some city dwellers thought and Okku wanted to maintain the image of his snout only ever being stained with blood rather than sometimes with berry juice. The Wells were to the north so they turned left towards the direction from which Neeshka and Blake had first approached the city. The rest of the afternoon and the evening passed peacefully enough and now Okku was their ally rather than a possible pursuer Blake and Neeshka were able to use rather than ignore one of the roadside shelters.

Memories of their journey from Okku's barrow had brought temptation though. As they'd travelled Blake had found himself looking for the small cave and considering suggesting that Gann and Okku use a shelter. They might not have been able to make the narrow entrance to that cave secure against a pursuing bear-god but he was confident they'd be able to make it secure enough that neither of them would need any armour or any other clothing. But Blake had firmly rejected the temptation and it was fortunate that Neeshka was not a mind-reader as she'd have been very frustrated that one of her harbour-boy's main reasons was he didn't want her too tired for the journey or any fighting the next day.

Morning came and Blake managed again to make his morning spells without removing his chainmail. The thought had occurred that as he could cast these in armour he could wait and see if they were needed. But casting them then would take a short time and Blake remembered how much advantage he'd gained in the fights in both dreams and reality by not needing that time and by denying his opponents their chance to prepare. He did decide to leave his persistent Death Armour uncast though as with the enthusiasm Neeshka hugged him he had sometimes worried she would trigger it.

The Wells of Lurue were about the same distance from Mulsantir as the Sunken City was so it was only a single night to spend in a shelter, but the light was fading as they approached them as it had taken almost all of the following day. The gorges brought back memories for Blake and he found himself automatically keeping a watch on the slopes for Bugbears or Orcs. He wondered whether to follow Neeshka's example and have his bow in his hand or whether to take his shield from his back so he could better protect her while she sent arrows up at any ambush. Neither Gann nor Okku had mentioned any local tribes of those but that meant little as Gann could likely travel very stealthily and only the most foolish would try to attack a bear-god in all his power and colourful glory.

"I… know this place," Okku rumbled hesitantly. "I know more than just this place was important to my clan. I remember a pool and a gathering of beasts, the water rushing from above. And the moisture on the air… it carries the scent of my clan. And their voices too, they are near little-one, can you hear them?"

Blake turned his attention from the slopes to look at Okku and felt a moment of shock as he saw the confusion and apprehension that had replaced the usual strength and confidence. "Something strange is happening here, my friend, something has changed you."

"When a cub was lost, or a clan scattered, they knew to come here," Okku continued, his head twitching about like a gigantic but watchful mouse. "The forsaken were safe with the eyes of Lurue upon them."

"You don't seem to be feeling safety here," noted Blake, eyes scanning the surroundings for ambush.

"I hear them as well," Gann added, tilting his head as he 'listened'. "They are lost… they are the cries of the confused, the lost, the mad. Be careful Old King Bear, I think you may be in danger here."

"Do they live?" wondered Okku. "I hear pain in their cries… and rage. My kin are here, hiding among the rocks perhaps, but why…"

"We shall find out," Blake replied firmly. "Whatever is causing them pain we shall end it or at least discover the cause so it can be fought or planned against."

"Your eyes are sharp, and my nose is keen," rumbled Okku, some confidence returning, "they won't elude us though their voices are… hard to catch." The bear-god paused and returned to his wondering. "I hear my name in their calls, fleeing into the crags, like a playful wind…"

"Night is falling though father bear," Gann reminded them, "and quickly with these surrounding hills. To search we shall need the light of day and we may even gain by first searching in dreams. Or by meeting with the Hill Tribe to eliminate them…" he paused for effect, "as a cause for your kin being troubled."

"Hrm, I am eager to search in the waking world…now," complained Okku, "but agreed."

"Fortunately there is a farmstead nearby and within whose palisade we may rest," smiled Gann. "This is not my first visit to these Wells, though when last I came the spirits were calm."

"That is good news, both parts I mean," Blake nodded, "that there is somewhere to shelter and that this unease is a more recent occurrence. It makes me concerned it could be caused by my curse, but at least that is something we are working against and the less time this has been going on the better."

As Gann had said the farmstead was nearby and he had not been misusing the term when he mentioned it had a palisade. Blake was quite impressed as there seemed few trees nearby and that looked as solid a barrier as that protecting the supposedly important garrison at the Lake of Tears. It did worry him though over what dangers must be here to justify that much effort. An old man glanced towards them through the open entrance and to Blake's surprise his attention was not drawn by the huge multicoloured bear shining in the rising moon but fixed instead firmly on Gann.

"Have you come to spit on my generosity again, spawn of Hags?" the farmer demanded, turning from the small field and challenging them almost before they were close enough. "I was a fool to offer you my roof and welcoming words before. Expect no hospitality from me, now or ever, dog. I offered you all this and you repaid me by running your sickly claws through my daughter's mind!"

Gann's mouth opened and closed slightly a few times before he managed to get a practised sneer on his face and into his voice. "I expect nothing from the farmers of Rashemen except the tone you show me now, and I have done nothing to your daughter. If you blame me I demand proof!"

"See her then!" the farmer snapped, turning to Blake. "See her and see how Anya speaks in mumbles, half-words, ever since the visit of that Hagspawn. Lost to madness because of him. See how Anya whispers his name, as if in his embrace. Then tell me he has not touched her mind and left it in ruins."

"You think I bear the weight for that?" demanded Gann, working himself up into a fine fit of pique. "You soil-churning fool of a farmer, watch where your tongue takes you lest I take offence…"

"Gann, please," Blake interrupted. "Let us examine the girl."

"You take his side?" said Gann in a betrayed voice, looking at Blake in disbelief. "You blame me?"

"I believe there is something wrong with his daughter," Blake replied calmly but firmly, "that his anger and his concern are both genuine. Let us find out what has occurred so the girl may be cured or, at the least, your name cleared with her father."

Gann was still alternating scowls at the old farmer and Blake as they crossed the short distance to the house. Okku looked at the door and rumbled and settled himself down to wait outside, but Neeshka followed as Blake and Gann entered. It was plain but comfortable inside and wandering around was a young woman. She was not as old as Blake had expected from the grey of her father outside but he could have fathered her later in life or just be older than he looked as farming was hard work. She was also pretty enough Blake could see why Gann would be tempted.

"Gannayev? What are you," Anya said, her half-closed eyes opening wide as she saw him. "Am… am I awake? Or…"

"It is I, Anya," replied Gann, "and you are awake, yes."

"But why come to me now?" Anya asked, her eyelids beginning to droop again. "Father will see! Unless you are in trouble, you must come only in dreams, only then can we be alone. Ah, I must sleep… Gann, I am coming to you my love."

"Anya, I have no intention of entering your dreams," protested Gann, "and nor have I… not after the night I stayed with you."

"So much for him having 'done nothing' to her," Neeshka whispered into Blake's ear. He grunted in agreement. Gann being tempted was understandable but giving into that and seducing the girl was a betrayal of her father's hospitality.

Anya's eyes had opened again in puzzlement and her voice matched her expression. "But… but you came to me last night, and the night before, and the night bef…" She broke off as realisation dawned on her. "Oh, I see! You are spinning lies for your friends to protect me, to protect me…" Anya's voice began to trail off and fade into murmuring to herself. "To protect me as you always will my love…"

"Anya, I did not come to you", Gann replied, his voice sharpening as he tried to cut through this daze. "I have not stepped into your dreams."

"You have. Who are you? You are not acting like yourself. Unless, perhaps at times you are confused as I am. More and more the waking world takes its toll. In dreams is where I wish to live."

"Something… something is wrong with her, her father did not lie," Gann admitted reluctantly. "Anya, will you close your eyes, for just a moment?"

"Of course!" smiled Anya eagerly, her eyes nearly opening again in joy before she obeyed. "What game do you plan, what new game shall we play?"

Gann's eyes closed almost as much as Anya's had been as he focussed and reached out. "She… she also does not lie," he admitted again, with even more reluctance. "I do visit her, but it is not I. She has shaped another me, a fantasy of me, with her mind. I did not even realise she possessed such power. This is… inconvenient."

"'Inconvenient'?" Blake repeated, his tone conveying eloquently his opinion of that as a term.

"Do not judge me, I meant no harm," said Gann, realising the disadvantage of having friends was you cared for their good opinion of you. "But the more she shapes this echo of me the worse her madness will become. We need to end this other Gann, and quickly, before he becomes any more real."

"Why are you speaking of madness? And of killing yourself?" screeched Anya. "It makes no sense, unless, unless you are not real yourself." Her voice began to rise in volume and pitch. "Get away from me! You are a shadow, an impostor, a reflection, a lie cast by truth."

"Outside," Blake growled. Gann gave Blake a sour look at being ordered but followed.

The incipient hysteria seemed to calm with their withdrawal and as they passed through the door back into the night Okku raised his great head from where it had been resting on one paw. "I take it the daughter is not well?" rumbled Okku, his ears having easily heard the start of the commotion.

"She has created a dream-fantasy and prefers it to facing truth," Gann replied. "If we do not help her she will lose herself in dreams. It will be the same as dying, and a slow wasting death as well."

"Fiend!" accused the farmer, overhearing this. "You see the truth of him now."

"He has said he did not realise your daughter had such power, and that he meant no harm," Blake replied, defending Gann despite this demonstration of why the Witches had imprisoned him, "and I believe him."

"More fool you then!" retorted the farmer.

"And more fool you if you do not accept our aid," Gann sneered back.

"You expect me to trust you?" asked the farmer incredulously.

"I expect you to realise that you have no choice," Blake replied firmly. "Your daughter is facing a lingering end and, even if we did betray you, we could not make her fate much worse. Do not think I would be unwilling to bind and gag you to prevent you from preventing us from trying to spare her that fate.."

"And you should not think I am alone and defenceless, I have allies who would aid me, how else do you think my walls were built."

"Then let us hope that for your sake, our sake, and their sake we do not need to fight." Blake's glance towards Okku betrayed his words as it showed he actually thought it less for 'our sake' than the other two reasons. "Now, Gann, how would we help her?"

"I cannot fix this alone," Gann admitted, "but with my mother's eye giving you the power also to walk in dreams, as I do, you could accompany me into her dream and we may put a stop to this…"

"You want to run your fingers through her mind again?" demanded the farmer. "Was not once enough?"

"Gann accidentally shuffled the cards of your daughter's mind," Blake argued, trying for convincing metaphor, "so now he wants to reshuffle them back into order."

Ignoring the farmer's grunt of doubt Gann continued. "Of course for her to be dreaming she would need to be sleeping. Which with her eagerness to return to unreality and night falling should not take too long. Though we should be sure she has entered the dreams before we make the attempt."

"Farmer, do you want my assurance as a god-of-bears?" Okku rumbled suddenly. "Your wish to protect your cub is admirable but to save her you need to let the little-one and the Hagspawn make their attempt. That is my word."

"I… I… very well, but I shall want to be in the room."

"That will avail you little as all that is to be done will be in dreams," Gann pointed out, "but your presence will not hinder us either."

The farmer tersely nodded and retreated inside, returning after a few minutes with a bundle of poles and ropes and pegs wrapped in a cloth. "Here," he said handing them to Blake before turning away and leaving again. Blake unrolled the bundle and nodded as he saw the hooks and eyes on the three poles and how the cloth was sewn around one of them.

"We have better tents than this…" smiled Blake, recognising how these would fit together into a basic shelter.

"We do?" Gann interrupted in surprise.

Blake looked at Gann in equal surprise before chuckling slightly. "We do, or at least Neeshka and I do, but come to think of it we've not used them. Caves in the mountains, shelters on the road, and even in the Ashenwood we dug into a snow bank. But as I was going to say… we have better tents but this gift is promising. Shows a little hospitality at least, despite your previous actions, so we should accept it."

Gann frowned a little at Blake's tone of disapproval but nodded and bestirred himself to help Blake and Neeshka as they set to work. The small mallet that had gone unused along with the 'better tents' proved equal to first tapping the clothless poles an inch or so into the soft soil and then securing the pegs to anchor some ropes one side of them. Blake lifted the pole with the cloth and fitted its hooks into the eyes on the now vertical poles so it and they formed the mouth of the shelter. Then they stretched the cloth back at an angle and drawing it reasonably taut secured other end of it with more pegs. The vertical poles shifted slightly as this pulled at them but the ropes kept them from falling.

It was a basic shelter such as the farmer might use to keep wind or rain off delicate seedlings and almost useless if the wind shifted to blow into its open mouth. But it would suffice for a single night and especially since they could also have the extra shelter of the bulk of a bear-god lying across the front or one side of it. Bedrolls arranged Blake took the chance that it would not come to fighting and unbuckled his plates to lay them and his shield and his sword and sword-belt to one side. They settled down to wait and watch the moon rise higher as they chatted. Neeshka was halfway through an amusing tale when she stopped. Blake had just enough time to wonder why before the door to the farmhouse creaked open and he realised his sweetheart had heard the farmer moving that much sooner.

The farmer carefully made his way out of his house, dim light spilling from the doorway showing he was not overgenerous with candles or lanterns but was generous enough to need the moment to let his eyes adjust. He looked at them and then his eyes fixed on Gann again. "You…you are awake!"

"With such excellent company and storytelling," Gann replied, "that was no hardship. Why is this so surprising?"

"If you are awake, my friend," said Blake, with a flash of insight he thanked Oghma for, "then you are not dreaming."

"Ah, and despite our assurances," Gann sighed, "the anxious farmer here still thought I would be in dreams and visiting his daughter."

"She is calling your name, Hagspawn," snapped the farmer, "what else am I to think."

"That Gann is right and she has shaped a fantasy of him," Blake replied, standing smoothly.

"I know that seems unlikely," added Neeshka, "after all who would want a dream-Gann."

"True, the reality of me is so much more magnificent," Gann smiled, also standing. "I assume that is what you meant?"

"Of course," grinned Neeshka, "I'd never suggest there were better things to dream of."

"I do not want to know what you dream of, Demon," sneered the farmer, catching sight of Neeshka with her hood lowered.

"Gold, jewels, us finding a comfortable private room," Blake replied. "Though," he added, his hand going to the dagger he was still wearing and a feral smile coming to his face, "insult her again and what I would dream of would be your corpse in the dirt, and that dream would soon be fulfilled through blade or spell."

"Little-one," rumbled Okku, "you cannot kill everyone who insults your mate. Even if from the tales you have killed almost all of them so far."

"Be fair," Neeshka winked, "most of them were going to attack us anyway."

Although he was not intimidated as he knew, unlike them, that he had Telthor friends who would rally to him in battle, and with more enthusiasm for being able to help him protect the land rather than till it, the farmer dropped the subject. "Come, come and see my daughter and see what happens each night."

Blake nodded and he and Gann began to follow the farmer inside. Neeshka waved goodbye to them and settled back to recline on her bedroll. Seeing Blake glance back at her she struck a pose worthy of the finest Deneir blessed artists. Though they tended to paint their model without armour or even clothing beyond, perhaps, a few wisps of silk the effect with her fine chainmail uncovered by leather and padding was still just as eye catching. Blake smiled to her, and then entered the farmhouse and crossed the hall to join the waiting Gann and farmer. The farmer slowly pushed the door open and led the way again inside.

On the bed Anya writhed as if she was on a stage putting on a show for those seeking erotic entertainment. The way her sweat made her thin nightclothes cling to her left almost little enough to the imagination that she would not even have needed to be wearing much less for that show. Her breath was coming in short gasps as she reacted to an invisible lover and seeing her Blake understood why 'maiden wracked by amorous dreams' was a popular scenario. He'd not understood before as that sort of show was more the preserve of the nobility and by the time he had the gold or social standing to attend such a revue he was already close enough to Neeshka to not feel the need to watch a lass he'd find less pretty.

"Oh Sir Gannayev!" Anya moaned suddenly, forming words rather than just little groans.

"Sir Gannayev?" repeated Gann. "She seems to have mistaken me for nobility. I'm better than that…" Gann's voice trailed off as he glanced at Blake and remembered his friend was a Knight of Neverwinter.

"No offence taken."

"I am glad your lady was not here to protest though," smiled Gann. "Knight-Captain."

"Hrm," the farmer interrupted. "I still do not trust you, spawn of hags, but that you are standing here while also in her dreams suggests you may have been truthful."

"Mmmmm…" purred Anya, wriggling slightly and chuckling, "that tickles."

"You thought he might have taken a nap," Blake said, looking at the father rather than the pretty girl squirming on the bed.

"That did occur to me," nodded the farmer, "that he had been in her dreams and then withdrawn."

"Entering another's dreams or leaving them is not that simple, and your daughter is powerful. Blake and I shall have to both concentrate our efforts if we are to insinuate ourselves into her fantasy."

"And I apologise for seeing your daughter like this," added Blake, gesturing to the bed, "and for if we see her in even more intimate circumstances in her dream."

"I know you are a villager at heart," Gann chided, sitting on the floor, "but concentrate on the task before us rather than any embarrassment. Focus with me…"

"Oh Gann! You are such a tease!" cried Anya, giggling as if she had been told a joke as Blake also sat.

"Imagine we are opposing gusts of wind," Gann continued, closing his eyes, "pushing away the clouds wreathing a tall mountain…"

Blake closed his eyes as well and focussed on what Gann was saying and how Gulk'aush's eye in its pouch was helping him feel the flow of the dreams. This was not easy and rather than being swept away like he had at the Mosstone it was more like pushing through jelly. But this was no novelty as Blake was more used to thick Mere mud to wade through than he was to fast flowing streams. Determinedly he pushed on until he felt it end and opened his eyes again to see the Dreamscape. It was surprisingly barren as they appeared to be outside surrounded by snow rather than surrounded by cushions and beds and baths. The temperature though was more like a pleasant spring day so it was a little surreal that the snow had not melted. Ahead of them stood two figures gazing adoringly at each other.

"Oh, Sir Gannayev," breathed Anya.

"Yes, my dearest Anya?" Dream-Gann replied, his voice going deep and sultry.

"Nothing," Anya dimpled. "I simply love saying your name."

"And it pleases my ears to hear you say it, my love."

"I… do believe it is the taste of bile that's rising in my throat," the true Gann commented, the treacly sweet exchange putting an expression of disgust on his face. "I may be ill, stand away."

"At least they're not naked," Blake replied, amused at the desperately earnest romance. "Unlike the ladies I'd not appreciate seeing your naked grey arse bobbing up and down in the grass."

"Ah, how romantic…" smiled Gann, "you do have a true poet's soul, or experience of getting gnat bites on all four of your cheeks."

"Only two cheeks," Blake chuckled, "remember I do have a beard, as well as a true poet's soul."

"What? Who is there?" demanded Anya as she realised that she had an audience and that they were not enraptured by the true love before them.

"Stand back my love," Dream-Gann said, stepping between her and them. "I shall protect you."

"Protect her? By the spirits, you can't protect her when your very existence causes her harm," sneered Gann. "You are a fantasy she conjured up that is driving a wedge between her and the waking world. And a poor fantasy at that."

"Gannayev?" Anya asked hesitantly, peeking around Dream-Gann's shoulder. "How can there be two of you?"

"Because even I cannot be perfect in all things," Gann replied, ignoring Blake's slight snort at his ego, "and I did not realise you had this power."

"Do you know this half-blooded mongrel my love?" Dream-Gann asked, drawing himself up to bestow a sneer on Gann.

"Mongrel?" chuckled Gann. "What does that make you? A half of a half?"

"Have a care with your words villain," said Dream-Gann in affront, "or I shall make you dine on them!"

"Brave words for a fantasy that must end," Gann replied, looking his near duplicate up and down. "One that has terrible fashion sense and a nose that is all wrong."

"Enough banter," interrupted Blake, "or melodrama. Anya, you need help…"

"You sound like father," Anya interrupted and accused, "and I need no help."

"Do not waste words on these intruders Anya," Dream-Gann declaimed with a dramatic squaring of his shoulders. "Something is wrong here, and I think these others may mean us harm."

"There is something wrong here," replied Blake calmly, "but it is not us. And if I sound like your father, Anya, then remember how much he loves you and would want you safe from all harm."

"Enough!" Anya cried, a slight gleam of tears in her eyes. "I have listened to my father continually accuse my beloved of crimes, of hurting me, and now he sends others to find us and drag me back."

"I am with you, my love," declared Dream-Gann, puffing out his chest a little.

"If it is a fight you want, then that is how this must be settled," Gann replied, sounding a little eager to quieten this distorted reflection of himself.

"Or we can talk some more," Blake said, interrupting the bickering of the two Ganns again. He looked at Anya who was still peering past Dream-Gann as he struck his pose of valiant defender. "I am confident this Gann is the real one and you are confident that yours is real. Shall we let them compete to see the truth of who loves you most?"

"I am not here for your amusement," Gann sneered disdainfully. Then he lowered his voice and muttered to Blake. "And in any case it would be that one since that is why he was created and his sole purpose in his existence."

Blake nodded slightly to Gann as Dream-Gann flexed what muscles he had. "I however," he proclaimed, jutting his chin and chest out, "would welcome a chance to prove myself. Bring on your 'contest.' I am not afraid!"

"Then we shall let you begin," invited Blake.

"I love you Anya!" Dream-Gann said, turning to face her and speaking as if he was an actor trying to reach and convince dullards in the back row of a theatre. "I am only whole when you are around."

"Revolting," judged Gann quietly, "and so unimaginative."

"Unimaginative because true," replied Blake, also quiet and with a small smile, "never mind being whole, he only exists when she is around. I'd warrant you have more eloquent words for love than he does. You seem far more blessed than he by Milil."

"And you would be right, though it is my talent rather than some god's," nodded Gann, getting into the spirit of the contest and still keeping his voice down, "so stand back. My words might ignite a passion so fierce this dream will catch on fire."

Gann stepped forward a little and turned on his full charm, managing to project seductiveness with understated gestures that for all their subtlety were far more powerful than Dream-Gann's obvious posing. Anya's eyes widened a little at the effect and she took an involuntary half step to the side as suddenly Dream-Gann was in the way of what she really wanted to see.

"Ah, Anya…" Gann began, putting romantic sorrow into his voice as he raised it, "this glade around you is a poor home for a beauty such as yours. Those clouds in the sky hide the sun's gaze from you, when all should be allowed to look upon such loveliness."

"I need share her with no-one!" retorted Dream-Gann.

"I would not fetter Anya's movements," Gann replied soulfully, gently touching his chest above his heart. "I would allow all to gaze upon her for whatever they might see only I can appreciate her inner beauty. The beauty of her soul as well as her body and exquisite face."

"Oh!" squeaked Anya.

"What? He tells lies!" Dream-Gann said desperately. "I love you! I am only whole when you are around."

"Anya, I am whole at all times," murmured Gann seductively, "for you are with me always, our love connecting us no matter what distance separates our bodies."

"Oh!" Anya squeaked again, blushing. "Oh my… I've been such a fool for a Gann I've created out of nothingness. It's time for me to wake up now."

The dreamscape dissolved around them and Blake took a few long blinks to adjust to the dimness of the bedroom after the brightness of the 'outdoors'. Looking to his side he saw Gann and Gann gave him a slight crooked smile. There was a noise from the bed and Anya's father strode forward from where he seemed to have been leaning against the wall watching them suspiciously. He grabbed his daughter's hand and started squeezing it as she lay there, eyes twitching as she woke, and as Blake and Gann stood. From the lack of pain in his rear from the hard floorboards it seemed to Blake that it might not have taken much longer in reality than it had in dreams.

"I feel… strange," Anya finally mused, "but… alive. Everything seems brighter, but there is a strange fringe around it…"

The farmer gave Gann an accusing look before he returned to looking at his daughter. Gann rolled his eyes at Blake and then spoke. "It is the fabric of thoughts, of dreams you are seeing. You will come to ignore it in time and see it only when you wish. I call this my 'Dreamer's Eye' and like an eye it can be closed. You… you are strong Anya, it shames me that I did not see it before."

"I am the one who feels shamed," sighed Anya sadly, bringing her free hand across to pat at her father's as it continued to hold and squeeze the other. "I fooled myself with the idea of you, didn't I?"

"There is no blame to be had, and if there is it should not be borne by you," Gann replied generously.

"Indeed," growled the farmer, "none of this was your fault my sweet daughter."

"Dreams are… a difficult thing to master," Gann continued, ignoring this comment, "but now you are aware of what you can do you will find the fields of the sleeping world are now yours to travel."

"You would not be there though would you?"

"Not as the Gann you imagined, no," smiled Gann, thinking how much better the slim chance of meeting him was than the guarantee of meeting the duplicate. "But if you travel dreams then I hope we will cross paths again. Hope makes its home in such places, and always has."

The farmer gave Gann another warning look and noticing this Anya sighed. "Well, thank you, both of you, you saved me from myself and I will not forget. For now though could you let my father and I speak in private. I have much to explain about what has happened."

Blake looked up from his thoughts. He'd noticed something similar to what Anya had mentioned but with how his vision of the world could subtly shift depending on what magic he had aiding him he had not found it as unusual. It had just been something to get used to and things seeming brighter and being outlined had been useful in the night and the dark and the Shadow Plane. There did seem more to it though from what Gann had said. Blake nodded in a half-bow and courteously retreated. Gann with his greater natural charm, if not the lessons in etiquette Blake had endured, followed suit and soon they were both out in the main room and hall. Blake closed the door on the beginnings of the low-voiced conversation and then, despite himself, jumped a little when he turned around and Neeshka was standing there within arm's length.

Neeshka giggled slightly at her harbour-boy's reaction before she could speak. "I saw how he was looking at you, Gann especially, and a sleeping target is easy to slit the throat of. So I followed."

"Was there any trouble?" asked Gann, curious.

"A couple of times he gave you a really nasty look," Neeshka reported, "and he did finger the hilt of his knife a little. But if there had been trouble then he'd have had to hope you were in the mood to ask the spirits and that they were in the mood to heal him. Or return him to life."

"Thank you for watching over us," said Blake gratefully, "you are the greatest blessing in my life and you have proven it again."

"Whooo, harbour-boy," Neeshka whistled as they moved towards the door outside, "getting romantic again, and in front of Gann even."

"We did solve the problem with a contest of seduction," replied Gann.

"What?" Neeshka exclaimed, giving Blake a glare.

"Between him and the fantasy of him Anya had created, but perhaps I was inspired by his eloquence as well as your beauty, my love."

Neeshka blushed slightly at thinking the contest had involved her harbour-boy as more than a spectator. Sometimes she still found that she doubted Tymorra had blessed her so much, that she really was lucky enough to have found someone that loved her and who she could love in return. Some small part of her deep inside was waiting for Blake to show his true nature and act like so many of the men she had known before him. They would have been very happy to seduce a farmer's daughter for a contest and to use whatever lies were needed to win and enjoy the 'prize'.

Outside Okku rumbled a mild greeting. Blake glanced at the moon and was glad Neeshka had not needed to stand guard too long. He settled down and with a small smile of apology Neeshka settled down next to him and snuggled up. There was not quite as much room for either of them as they had needed to slightly overlap their bedrolls but Neeshka was happy enough with slightly overlapping Blake as well. They lay there for a few moments before Blake came to a decision and spoke.

"What Anya mentioned, about things being brighter with a fringe around them," Blake commented, turning his head to look at Gann. "I have noticed the same or similar but I had assumed it was a blessing of your spirits."

"Your assumption was correct," replied Gann, "though not in the manner you thought. It is not some…spell or prayer for me to ask them for, it is a blessing they gave me from how they raised and nurtured me."

"Then if this is something innate to you then how am I affected?" Blake asked, reasonably.

"I am unsure. We certainly have been through much together and it had been some time since I travelled with someone I could trust," mused Gann. "As such I have been more open with you than with those others I have had the misfortune to encounter, and opening oneself to another touched by the spirits can have other effects. And though our dreams together were not as… intimate as mine with Anya we have shared them and travelled the Dreamscape together."

"Glad to hear your dreams were not as… intimate," Neeshka whispered to Blake. "I think I'd have counted that as being a naughty harbour-boy."

Blake coloured slightly and tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke to Gann. "So, you have affected my perceptions the same way as you did Anya?"

"Perhaps more gradually," replied Gann, "over the course of a few dreams and several days and nights of travel rather than a single dream and night. But if so then this is neither a curse nor a burden like the hunger consuming you, it is a gift of the land and of the dreaming. You will notice you see many things clearer than before and that perhaps, with time, this power might develop and grow."

"Grow how?" said Blake, trying to not sound too suspicious. "No offence, my friend, but as much as I trust you I have had some unpleasant surprises with discovering hidden powers."

"Which was why I said it was neither curse nor burden," Gann nodded.

"And I trust that opinion," Blake reassured him. "But Zhjave seemed to think my link to the Sword of Gith something…" He paused. "Not quite blessed but certainly something to be envied, and that led me to be hunted by the Githyanki and may have been a factor in my being chosen by the Red Wizards to be cursed."

"We cannot know the future, but were you to be hunted it would be because of the value of your insights," said Gann, equally reassuring. "To be able to see more clearly what others need and speak more clearly of what you see and how to satisfy them would serve you and them well. With practice, as I said to Anya, you could ignore this and close your Dreamer's Eye or you can embrace it."

Blake nodded to Gann and then turned his gaze towards the cloth of the shelter over them. Neeshka snuggled back closer to him as he considered this. If he was still Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep then there was much work there where being able to better settle disputes would be a fine thing. To be able to see where there was malice and where there was only honest confusion or mistakes about the matters. The day had been a long one with a full day's walking so sleep soon came to slow his thoughts and then morning soon afterwards.

"Little-one," Okku rumbled, rousing Blake.

Blake blinked a few times to get some sleep out of his eyes and then looked out the mouth of the shelter. The farmer was standing there looking nervous and Blake felt a moment's concern as it was unusual for him to wake up so slowly. Neeshka wriggled against him as she also woke and Blake gave her a quick kiss between the horns before carefully sliding his arm out from under her and extracting himself from the shelter. The farmer looked at him and then looked away before looking back as Gann joined Blake in standing and waiting for the farmer to speak. Blake glanced back into the shelter and Neeshka smiled at him before she stretched like a sleepy cat. He smiled back as he enjoyed the sight and the sheer sensual enjoyment his beloved gained from this.

"I…" the farmer began hesitantly, "my daughter, she seems to have slept normally and to be in calmer spirits. She woke this morning with her eyes clear and did truly wake rather than being in a doze."

"Then, as we hoped," Blake replied, "it does seem Gann was able to restore her mind and repair the damage done."

"We, my daughter and I, spoke long after you left," continued the farmer, "she blamed herself, told me to not think ill of Gann, blushed deeply when I mentioned she had spoken and reacted to her dreams and that was why I was so concerned…"

Blake looked at Gann. Whether he was half-asleep or whether he was just feeling stubborn, and he looked both, it seemed Gann was not going to answer. "You were right to be concerned," Blake said, continuing the conversation, "though your daughter is also right. Gann meant no harm with his actions so you should not think too poorly of him, and he does ask your forgiveness for what was caused by his honest mistake."

"I… what?" Gann exclaimed, not appreciating being spoken for despite his unwillingness to speak.

"Then I must also ask his forgiveness," half-bowed the farmer, "and offer my apology for my words spoken before. These came in haste from the love a father has for his child and his grief to see her suffering."

"I… it… of course," stuttered Gann before regaining his usual smoothness. "Your apology is taken and I assure you I have learned from this. To find a gem such as your daughter was surprise enough I did not realise she was even more precious and rare than she appeared. That she had strength of dreams as well as of mind and body, and beauty in both."

The farmer looked at Gann for a moment and then turned away without a word but with an air of decision. Blake shrugged slightly as the farmer retreated into his house and then glancing back to Gann saw the frown that he was no longer even attempting to conceal now the farmer had left. "Please," said Gann sourly but quietly, "don't speak for me in future."

"You are a friend," Blake returned in the same quiet tones, "and friends smooth things over for each other."

Gann looked surprised at the idea; it had felt like Blake was assuming the role of a parent or master and Gann's independence of spirit had rebelled against that. "A concept I am not used to," he eventually replied, "but I suppose willing to accept… in theory."

Blake nodded and deciding Neeshka was nicer to look at than Gann, even if the latter was no longer frowning as much, turned to face the shelter. Neeshka had already begun on shaking out the bedrolls and rolling them up and from a desire to help her, and from the impatient look on Okku's face, Blake decided he had better assist. Now morning had come so had the bear-god's impatience returned to find either the Hill Tribe for possible vengeance or his clan to discover why they were in distress. Gann sulked a few moments longer, lost in thought, but eventually returned to help strike camp.

It did not take long to return their things to their packs and lower the shelter. Blake had just finished strapping on his plates and his swordbelt when they heard the door of the house open again. The farmer emerged holding a small shield like a tray and with a helmet on it. Anya smiled to Gann from the doorway behind her father and followed him out into the early morning light. Blake and Gann exchanged a quick look and it was the latter who stepped forward to meet them.

"Please," the farmer said, holding out his burden, "accept these tokens of my appreciation. They may help you on your travels."

"My thanks," replied Gann politely, taking the things, "I am sure they would serve me well."

"And thank you again Gannayev," Anya called, "I shall miss you."

"May your dreamwalking be free of stumbles," Gann called back.

Despite his gratitude the farmer still frowned slightly at this exchange and turned and herded his daughter away from the dangerously handsome Hagspawn. Smiling at this reaction and that things were back to a more normal routine Gann looked at the items. "I think this shield would aid my thoughts to flow easier," he said as the spirits whispered the advice to him, "but though I could strap it to my forearm and still use my spear I doubt it would be worth it. The weight would take a lot of getting used to and if my hand was on my spearshaft then I could not follow Neeshka's example and move my arm gracefully about to deflect blows."

"Even if it only deflects blows that happened to fall on it that might still be useful, but your choice my friend," Blake replied. "And the helm?"

"Oh, please," smiled Gann, "I have seen the effects of your hat or your helmet on your hair." After a moment he continued. "More seriously though it does seem a fine one, with excellent padding and a shape that would deflect hammers and suchlike away. But it would muffle my senses and make me slower to react, which idea I dislike almost as much as how it would disarrange my fine flowing locks."

"Then let us depart, spawn of hags," rumbled Okku, "and let you hope you are not struck in the head to have your skull as well as your hair affected."

Gann nodded and with a smile handed the shield and helmet to Neeshka as they passed out of the stockade. She added the helmet to the ever more satisfying hoard she was building up in her magic bags and Bag of Holding but paused as she looked at the shield. Blake glanced at it and nodded to her. "That colour would match your armour," Blake commented, "so it would look good on your arm. More practically if it would aid your mind in the same way as your ring then if we found a nicer ring to go on that finger it might be better to have the aid from that shield instead."

"Hmmm," mused Neeshka. "It is a nice shield, one to keep for now… and gives you the chance to look for rings for me, harbour-boy."

"What a burden for him, I am sure," Gann smiled. "He is so reluctant to buy you things and search for the right present to make you happy."

Blake chuckled and then realised that he'd not yet made his morning spells. That lack was soon remedied and he decided to strap his shield onto his arm and accept the weight there. It felt heavier when it was there rather than on the carrying straps over his shoulders but, according to Gann, there was danger to Okku from something and there was whatever danger the Hill Tribe might pose when they were found.

"Blast," Blake muttered as he reached that point in his thoughts, "if the farmer hadn't been so keen to protect his little girl we could have asked him for directions to the Hill Tribe. Though that would likely have reawakened his suspicion of us if they are as hostile to flesh as they seem to be to spirits from calling my curse a gift."

"There does seem only one path," commented Gann, "so let us follow it with caution."

They had not gone far through the narrow valley before a small figure rose from where it had been concealed behind a rock. Neeshka's already strung shortbow came up and her other hand reached for one of the arrows she had ready but she controlled her reaction to draw and loose. It was close though as she had been so ready to send arrows back up the slopes if needed and because even when she recognised who had ambushed them there was still the urge. This little girl might not be as obvious a danger as Orcs pelting them with crossbow bolts and rocks but she was probably a greater threat, and Neeshka was willing to do much to protect her harbour-boy from his own good nature.

"Spirit-eater! I did not think you would come," Ku'arra greeted them, "but Headman U'juk is wiser than I, and he made me keep watch for you. U'juk has much knowledge of spirit-eaters and the Gift to share with you. We've begun preparations for a feast. With your arrival we can complete the feast. Follow me, please."

"Of course, we look forward to meeting your Grandfather so please lead on," replied Blake politely before dropping his voice and muttering. "Trap?"

"Trap," Neeshka muttered back, regretting more moment by moment that she had not 'accidentally' put an arrow through Ku'arra. Preventing her leading them to the Hill Tribe might stop them finding the answers there but would also stop the Hill Tribe from being able to ambush them.

"Without doubt," added Gann.

"Rend them," Okku rumbled, causing Ku'arra to turn and look at him as even if she could not hear what the bear-god had said she could hear he had said something.

It was only a short distance further with the little girl skipping ahead of them in her enthusiasm, then stopping and turning and waiting for them to rejoin her. The side valley Ku'arra eventually stopped by had a narrow mouth and could have been easy to miss if not for the child almost dancing up and down to get them to follow. She waved and skipped off again and into it. Blake took the chance of her being out of sight to make a few more spells.

"Biscuit?" smiled Gann.

"Aye," Blake confirmed as he finished, "avoiding the gesturing and extending the duration."

Okku gave an amused rumble. "Not that your spells and sword and my claws and teeth allow a fight to 'extend' that long, little one," he commented with confidence.

Blake nodded and followed Ku'arra. This seemed so certain a fight that he folded and put away his hat to replace it with chainmail hood and helmet. Helmets could warm up in the sun and the chainmail prevent air from circulating around his neck and add to the feeling of enclosed sweatiness. So people tended to leave them off and down unless they expected they needed the protection. Which made having them on and up less diplomatic but Blake did not care as he made his way up the short incline to where a few crude shelters seemed to form the Hill Tribe settlement.

"I'm itchy!" complained a small child, herded together with other children to one side of the valley. "Why I wear this skin?"

"Hush, youngling," a Tribeswoman said, as Blake wondered if the tribe needed to boil their leathers and furs. "We have guests for dinner."

"I'm so hungry," the child continued petulantly. "I hope they taste good."

"Hush," the Tribeswoman said, looking quickly over her shoulder, "here they come."

Blake and the others exchanged glances as the Tribeswoman turned back to quietening the crèche of younglings and then Blake nodded at a pile of bones that Ku'arra had skipped past without concern. "What the child said," Blake commented quietly as they walked past that pile. "What some bones look to be."

"Eww," replied Neeshka with a quiet shudder.

"How do you know what…" Gann began to ask.

"I've fought undead, as have you," muttered Blake, still quiet as there were more tribespeople around them, "that were just bones."

"A good eye for detail," Gann admitted. "Myself I was busy with the fighting."

Okku gave a low quiet bone-deep growl as Ku'arra turned again and beckoned them on as they had slowed in speaking. "My grandsire U'juk is waiting ahead, just a little further now, spirit-eater."

There was a short extra slope to where a grizzled old man and two younger looking women waited. One in particular looked as if U'juk had robbed whatever the Hill Tribe used for cradles but both seemed subdued and submissive. Ku'arra bounced up to her Grandfather, smiling at him and very pleased with herself at her success. "Grandsire, spirit-eater is here."

"Something…" mused Gann, "something is not quite right with this man and his tribe. I feel as if I know him… he seems familiar somehow."

"Do you remember where?" Blake asked quietly. "He does seem not have the same 'fringe' as Anya and her father, so to not be human… maybe?"

"That is what is not quite right, but how it is not quite right and where I have seen it before, that eludes me," replied Gann, lips tightening slightly in annoyance. "But if I met him before, this was not the form he wore."

Blake nodded, feeling as if he was about to realise something but then U'juk spoke. "Spirit-eater joins Hill Tribe for a feast, and Spirit-eater has brought an Ursine ally."

"And spirit-eater was told you had knowledge to share."

"I have lived since another time, centuries past," continued U'juk, surprising Blake as he didn't look that old. "A time when stories walked the land in flesh and blood. I have known spirit-eater in many different shapes. Some I have befriended, learned from, and taught. Others I have eaten, when they betrayed the Gift."

'Hmm,' Blake thought at that, remarkably unsurprised after the comments and the bone-pile.

"It is a service I provide in respect to spirit-eater so that the Gift may pass to one worthy of it," U'juk finished, glossing over it also being a good meal. "The spirit-eater before me betrays the Gift by defeating one such as Okku and not feeding on it to gain the power that is the spirit-eater's right."

Blake sighed and decided to not even try to argue. "As the spirit-eater before you had the power to defeat one such as Okku," he said calmly instead, "he finds your threat laughable and has heard threat before."

"Like spirit-eater Hill Tribe wears different forms," U'juk growled. "We do not feed in human form…"

U'juk, his two females, and even little Ku'arra seemed to twist with clothing vanishing and white fur sprouting over most of what those clothes had covered. Their faces lengthened into muzzles and the tips of long canine teeth became visible as thick browridges formed and their arms lengthened as their legs shortened. The exposed skin of their hands and hand-feet and faces and chests darkened from the paleness of northern humans to a hideous sunburn pink.

"Now spirit-eater sees the true form of Hill Tribe," said U'juk past his more impressive teeth, his voice a little more resonant as his chest had broadened.

"Ah, Uthraki," Gann commented, perhaps more concerned than his tone let on. "Like the ones who made the threat before and who in response we slew at the Sunken City… with considerable ease."

"Bugger," said Blake. "Didn't know Uthraki could shapeshift or I might have made the connection with all the mention of different forms."

Okku rumble-chuckled in satisfaction. "I know you now, U'juk, you chattering ape!" he said with some delight. "And I remember the taste of your blood… this time I shall have more than just a taste I think."

"Perhaps this time the Gift will pass to me when spirit-eater dies," hissed U'juk. "I suspect I killed the others too quickly before, I shall make this death linger."

"I'll make yours quick," Blake replied, drawing his sword with the speed of both long practice and his magic. Neeshka followed suit after calmly removing and folding her cloak to drape it over one of the stone faces either side of the entrance.

"Ku'arra," ordered U'juk, "tend to the younglings while the adults deal with spirit-eater."

"Yes grandsire," the little Uthraki replied, adding, "save me a portion of the loins, I savour it so!"

Okku saw no need to waste any more time on needless chattering and lunged forward. One mighty paw swept around and into U'juk, dagger-claws carving deep furrows across the Uthraki's chest as he was smashed back and off his feet. Gann and Neeshka moved forward to protect the bear-god's flanks as he moved forward to press his attack but Blake instead turned and let his gaze follow Ku'arra. The noise of their heavy footsteps and hunting cries had carried in the quiet air of the valley and Blake was not surprised to see more adult Uthraki bounding up the hill.

What was an unpleasant surprise was that there were a few more than he had expected. Rather than the three he'd expected there were seven and he had the vague impression that four of them were males from the extra bulk of them. Blake allowed himself a moment of amusement as he let them get a little closer. If Uthraki formed pair bonds then one of those males might have been unfortunate because U'juk had taken two females for himself. Then Blake made them all even more unfortunate as he chanted and summoned the power of the Weave to his command and a ball of flame formed in front of him. It hung there for the half-second and then erupted into seven separate fragments that arced away and into the Uthraki as the spell of Firebrand was completed.

He was rather relieved this had worked as although this spell had the ease of frequent use that had been preparing the spell with the extra power to make arcane gesturing unnecessary. As confident as he was from using what Gann had dubbed his 'biscuit' skill that he no longer needed to gesture it had still felt like a risk. The magic still flowed correctly though despite the size of his shield and how even Mithril interfered when you wore enough of it. Each of the smaller balls of flame were more intensely hot than the single one created by a spell of Fireball and they burned deep into the Uthraki rather than bursting out over a wide area.

Ku'arra had been glancing over her shoulder to watch the glorious charge but she had stopped and turned and stared as she saw the charge be staggered and halted by magic she had not known spirit-eater had. Screams of pain and rage reached her and she turned again and rushed on and around the corner of the slope. The younglings might need more tending to than Grandsire U'juk had thought.

"Swap," Gann said tersely.

Blake turned, nodded, and took over fighting the Uthraki female that had been Gann's opponent. In the time Blake had spent waiting for the others to get closer and on casting his spell Gann had already managed to inflict a few deep spear wounds on her. She was moving as if partially crippled and could not take advantage of the moment the interchange took.

Gann looked down the slope at what had now dissolved into individuals struggling back to their feet or struggling to gather the willpower to even attempt this. He mentally apologised to the spirits for asking them to again let him use their gifts in this manner and then made his plea. Out of the clear sky columns of lightning struck down and into the Uthraki, the passage of the electricity through them making their muscles spasm or simply cooking their flesh where it passed. If anything this was worse than normal lightning as at least in a thunderstorm some of this might pass across rain dampened skin or through damp clothes or fur. Those Uthraki that had managed to rise were battered back down into the dirt and those that had not risen were battered deeper into it.

While the rest of his tribe were being so poorly treated by magic U'juk had managed to regain his feet. Blood streaming down his front from the gouges across it he swung a punch in at Okku's head. The strength and speed of that blow would have cracked most non-magical shields but against the bear-god it was foolish. Okku turned his head slightly and shifted his position so that the punch brought U'juk's arm into his waiting mouth. Spirit-teeth closed on tough Uthraki flesh and fur and with one convulsive heave of his immense neck and shoulders Okku swung his foe around. The distinct popping noises of a dislocated shoulder and elbow were capped by a slight crunch as U'juk met one of the stone faces.

Neeshka was also doing well as deep cuts decorated her opponent to weaken her moment by moment with blood loss. So far the Uthraki female had not been slowed greatly but as she heard the noises and saw out of the corner of her eye what had happened to her mate she was distracted just a little. Neeshka's rapier came glinting in to slice open the Uthraki's throat and though she managed to, barely, block this the incredibly sharp blade sliced her forearm open from elbow to wrist. The Uthraki threw herself forward to try to brawl Neeshka to the floor where her advantage of greater strength and weight would tell and she would be able to bring her teeth to her enemy's neck and discover what Demon-blood tasted like.

The Uthraki's long arms spread wide but Neeshka gracefully sidestepped far enough to be out of reach and then swiftly back in as the Uthraki passed her and tried to stop herself stumbling down the slope. Neeshka twisted with so much ease as to almost disguise the speed and precision with which she drove her elbow back and drove the rear corner of her bracer-blade into the rear of the Uthraki's head. This was probably already a fatal wound as though it was no more than an inch deep or wide it had landed accurately on where spine met skull. However she was not taking any chances whether it was death or just the pain and impact of the blow that had caused the Uthraki to fall. As her adversary tumble skidded a little way down the slope Neeshka finished turning and with two quick bounding strides caught up to first stab down with her rapier through the Uthraki's heart before grabbing her sword hand with her other. Neeshka fell to her knees to use her weight to drive her forearm down like a bar and guillotine the length of her bracer blade across the back of the Uthraki's neck.

Meanwhile Blake had taken advantage of the wounded state of his foe and decided to disdain subtlety. His sword swept in at the Uthraki's head but with a burst of self-preserving speed she managed to fling her arm up and into the way. Against a human, or even an Orc, Blake's sword would have simply cut through and on into her skull. But the tough flesh and tougher bones of the Uthraki managed to resist and his blade stuck slightly in those thick arm bones. Casually Blake stamp-kicked the heel of his boot into the Uthraki's knee. The kick did not do much harm but did affect the knee enough the Uthraki stumbled. Blake was already leaning back a little for the kick so the drag of the blade as it was freed by the Uthraki's motion and his arm pulling back against it just brought him back upright.

While the Uthraki was still off balance Blake coiled and uncoiled into what would have been a classic fencing thrust had his sword been rather smaller. This was more Neeshka's sort of blow as it was not easy with a sword the size of Blake's to keep the blade straight with just the strength of your wrist. Unfortunately the alternative was one of the things Blake's choice of shield interfered with. Around the base of his sword blade a blunt section had been fitted and though that was partially for balance it was mostly so a hand could be placed under there to use the sword like a short stabbing spear. But though Blake could just about manage to get his hand on the hilt for a more vertical blow his shield was too large to turn his arm for that other grip.

Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for the Uthraki female, Blake had the practiced skill to control the strength of his muscles and magic belt. The enchanted metal stabbed into the Uthraki's heart and Blake gave his sword a twist as the magic discharged and he withdrew it. Then Gann was there and stabbing his spear into the side of the Uthraki's head as she fell and sprawled. Blake nodded to his friend, grateful for the assistance as he remembered how tough the Uthraki at the Sunken City had been and there was no handy lake full of hungry things here to throw them into to make sure of their death.

"Pfah!" Okku spat, his muzzle red but already shedding the coating of blood. "Perhaps I should not have been so eager to have more than a taste of his blood. It was as foul as his support of your curse little-one."

Blake looked past the bear-god at the disembowelled and dismembered U'juk and nodded again before glancing down the slope to where Neeshka was retreating back to join them. A few of the Uthraki his spell and Gann's appeal to the spirits had felled were still twitching slightly which underlined his concerns over how hard they were to kill. Blake wanted to rub his beard in thought but aborted the motion as he still had his sword in his hand.

"I think, even if I were inclined that way," Blake decided after a moment, "that we do not have the sort of healing those would need to live rather than just have their death delayed. No need to leave them to suffer though."

Gann smiled slightly to himself and decided to not protest or complain. It seemed Blake was underestimating the gifts the spirits gave him but as those were gifts from the spirits Gann was even less inclined than Blake to use them to benefit those that supported the eating of spirits. There were few Uthraki that Rashemen would not be better off without and the words of their Headman had shown these were not amongst that small number.

They worked their way down the short slope stabbing hearts and slicing throats and Okku's great paws crushing skulls. Even those that were lying still rather than twitching received the same treatment just in case they did need the mercy killing. Soon they reached the corner and around it saw some very small Uthraki huddling fearfully behind Ku'arra. She tried to look brave as Blake glowered and approached but as the armoured man loomed over her this faltered towards nervousness.

"So…" Blake hissed, flicking his sword so blood splattered into the dirt by Ku'arra's feet. She couldn't stop herself flinching a little. "You wanted a piece of my loins, you savoured it so."

Ku'arra swallowed a few times. Grandsire U'juk had been wise but perhaps luring spirit-eater here had not been as wise. Still despite his rage the spirit-eater was talking rather than having already begun slaughter and he did spare Okku. Perhaps he have weakness of soft-heart to diminish strength of magic and sword-arm and she and younglings could escape with right words. "Please, spare the younglings," Ku'arra said, doing her best attempt at puppy-eyes. "They have done no evil."

"Aside from hoping we would taste nice?" asked Neeshka sarcastically.

"Is a wolf evil when it hopes the farmer's sheep taste nice?" Gann said rhetorically, raising Ku'arra's hopes with his apparent support before dashing them with his next sentence. "No, though that does not stop the farmer killing it to prevent further predation."

"These cubs will have a hard enough time surviving the winter," rumbled Okku, disinterested in the fate of such unchallenging potential enemies, "there is neither glory in slaughtering them nor much mercy in sparing them."

"No glory or mercy in it but blood ties are strong," Gann argued. "Not only may these seek to prey on people like their parents, like a wolf, but they also have the mind to remember we killed their parents and to seek revenge. Slaying them now may prevent greater evils later."

"Spirit-eater, I beg you," said Ku'arra, feeling discouraged as she realised of this quartet one was apathetic and at least one wanted their death, "do not devour us."

"Of course I won't devour you, that would be using this curse in a way your late Grandsire would have approved of," replied Blake, his sword twitching and his expression shifting to a predatory smile. "Though I don't need to devour you when I can turn all of you into burned carnage, like your parents, with a single spell."

"Harbour-boy…" Neeshka hurriedly said, not concerned for the Uthraki but concerned with how slaughtering them in anger would affect Blake, "temper."

Blake nodded to Neeshka and closed his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath and calm himself a little. "I will give you this one chance. I fought the adults in self-defence, I am not a murderer, and so I will let you go. With conditions."

"Thank you spirit-eater," Ku'arra replied, glad to see a little of the battle rage leave the man's eyes. "The Hill Tribe will never bother you again, I promise."

"You will not bother anyone," Blake said, chanting and gesturing. The Uthraki younglings cringed back at little and exchanged surprised glances when Blake finished and they were all still alive. "There, you now have a spell upon you. It was intended to help find wounded soldiers but the stone I shall give the witches will react to your presence now. Prey on travellers and they will be able to hunt you down with ease."

"They already hunt us spirit-eater," pointed out Ku'arra hesitantly, trying to object without provoking more immediately lethal magic. "We will surely die if you give them such a stone."

"I shall extract a solemn oath from them to leave you in peace, so long as you restrict your hunting to things that cannot talk. If this condition is not acceptable then your alternative is to join the adults of your clan in the afterlife."

Ku'arra glanced to the slope where she had seen all those spells cast and the adults of the tribe felled with such ease. "No, it is acceptable."

"Remember, this is one chance," Blake growled, twitching his sword again for emphasis. "If you bother me, or hunt things that can talk, and make me regret this act of mercy then that regret will be repaid a thousand-fold."

"Come, younglings. Quickly now!" said Ku'arra, hurrying them away.

"What did you mean by 'repaid a thousand-fold'?" Neeshka asked cautiously as the small Uthraki vanished and Blake drew out a cloth to begin cleaning his sword.

Blake smiled to Neeshka, looking a lot calmer though that very dispassion gave his next words extra weight. "Well, if they will not keep their word then obviously track down and kill any survivors of the Hill Tribe," he replied, as if discussing what wine to have in an Inn. "Beyond that it would depend… depend if you had been injured, depend whether I had more power from troops under my command or from magic I had learned, depend on how much time I could devote to a war of extermination if you had been injured by them…"

"I get the picture," Neeshka interrupted. "Sheesh, what happened to the kind hearted guy who negotiated with the Lizardfolk even the second time."

"I prefer diplomacy still," protested Blake in a slightly hurt tone, "and when the Lizardfolk broke the agreement, and even during their original attacks on Highcliff, they tried to not hurt anyone and the breach was because the King of Shadows was manipulating them. These Uthraki would have no such excuse."

"Though they do have a way to avoid your spell," Gann pointed out as Neeshka headed back up the slope to recover her cloak. "Once they have raised their own cubs to an age to be able to survive then they can simply have those cubs kill them so they can hunt unencumbered by their parents."

"I was lying about the spell."

"Yes, I suspected as much," Gann replied. "Why?"

"Because I would rather lie to children instead of killing them. Even if that requires me to threaten and bully them as well. Though they were fortunate they did not ask for my word or oath on what I said as I'd have not foresworn myself and that would have only left death as a solution."

"At least we found another shield," Neeshka said, returning and trying to distract Blake with a smile and by showing off what she had found. "A bit spiky around the edges but it does have a pretty pattern of interwoven knots on it."

"Hmm, that is attractive," replied Blake politely. "I think I'd prefer it for looks without the spikes, either on those tines or the one from the centre, but those could trap weapons or be useful if you have to hit things… with… wait."

"Harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked as Blake stopped speaking and lent forward to begin examining the runes.

"Hmm," smiled Blake, "maybe I am not going to have to find you a ring. Or not for the reason we said back near the farmer's. This has a lot more protective magic than the one on your arm and maybe something else. How much do you trust me my sweet?"

"A lot…" Neeshka admitted, before caution forced her to add, "why?"

"The mind boggles," commented Gann. "That sounded rather like 'if you love me you will let me do this' and that can lead to interesting outfits or practices."

"Stand over there," Blake gestured, ignoring Gann, "and try to stand still and not dodge."

Neeshka looked a little worried as she moved. "Dodge what?"

In reply Blake summoned some magic to the shaping of his words and cast a Fireball at his sweetheart. As it formed and streaked from him at her Neeshka's strong legs flexed and she started to shift her balance to dance aside. But she loved her harbour-boy, she trusted him, and she fought down that instinctive reaction. The fireball struck and burst but before Neeshka could feel more warmth than that of a sudden shaft of sunlight it vanished in on itself and into her new shield. It glowed bright enough for this to be visible even in the sunlight and she happily moved it into a shadow to better see this glow.

"Whoa," Neeshka said, impressed and watching as the glow faded. "Looks like your armour harbour-boy."

"Except that will absorb any spell up to the third circle rather than just raw magical energy," Blake replied, smiling as Neeshka unbuckled her old shield to replace it, but looking less pleased as a thought occurred. "Or to put it another way it is useless against any spell more powerful than the third circle rather than at least absorbing some of the magical energy."

Neeshka grinned at her harbour-boy, tilting her arm and admiring her new favourite shield, which had pushed the one that matched her armour into second place and the one she'd been using into third. "Let's hope the students at that Academy haven't learned too much magic that is too powerful then."

"Aye," Blake smiled back, "Tymorra has smiled on you. That could be a good chunk of their spells, so it was well found."

Once Neeshka had checked the rest of the encampment and pouted slightly at the lack of anything else worth looting they left the short valley to return to the main gorges and their search. Blake glanced around and wished Khelgar were here as mountains were more Dwarf terrain and he might have a better instinct for how these paths might link and split. Still while those hillsides remained free of enemies and the climbs remained gentle it was not too bad walking around here. It was warmer and the air was less thin than the path to Immil Vale.

"Do you have any better sense of the turmoil my friend?" Blake asked, turning to Okku. "Any more scent or any change now U'juk is dead?"

"It… is still difficult little-one," murmured Okku, almost quiet as he strove to explain. "Faint cries of pain and… hatred. I feel a weight on me of decisions I do not remember and guilt I feel without knowing the source."

"There is still danger and eliminating, most of, the Hill Tribe has done nothing to change that," Gann mused. "It is strange though. What whispers I hear surround Okku with threat rather that you."

Blake slowly nodded. "And he is to be revered as a god-of-bears, while my curse makes me loathsome to those same spirits."

"Not quite," Gann corrected. "As you might have noticed in the Ashenwood the spirits are fairly neutral. They would respond to Okku's will and respond if they felt your curse reaching out to brush against them, even if it did no more. So it would be more accurate to say you both should be being ignored but if you were noticed then, yes, it should be you drawing the hostility."

"It looks like the hills are impassable ahead," said Blake, accepting the correction and pointing northwest. "Let's head up that way to circle back around towards the farmstead. Unless there is a better path?"

"That seems as good a route as any," Gann smiled, "though I suggest we not enter the stockade and presume on another welcome."

Whispers surrounded them as they walked, barely on the edge of Blake's hearing and making him reluctant to remove his helmet, lower his chainmail hood, or place his shield on his back where it was easier to carry. He'd barely managed to convince himself that it was the work of moments to draw his sword again and so that could be returned to its scabbard rather than remaining in his hand. The sensation of threats flitting about dampened their mood with worry. Except for Neeshka who seemed unaffected though alert as her eyes scanned the slopes and her shortbow was held lightly but expertly in her hand. Whether this was because of her lack of a connection with the spirits, not being a god or shaman or eater of them, or because she was simply too sunny a person to let it bother her Blake did not know. But the joy her presence brought him and the example she set him did help him fend off the formless doubts.

"Hrmm, little-one," Okku rumbled suddenly, his voice hushed against his own doubts but sounding loud in the stillness. "I smell smoke, and not of a natural source."

"Campfire?" asked Blake.

"There is no scent of burning leaves or grass," Okku nodded, "just of wood that has been dried or been selected as being dry rather than green and damp."

"It could be nothing," sighed Blake, "or it could be the paranoia that these gorges are instilling in me but, my love, would you scout before we approach openly?"

"I hope you meant me," Neeshka replied with a wink.

"Such a task would not suit me," murmured Okku, distracting himself with some amusement.

"And though the spirits could hide me," Gann added, "I think he and I are 'just good friends'…as devastating as that is to both our hearts."

Despite their efforts the cheerful banter somehow rang hollow and it was without another word that Neeshka crept silently away. Blake watched her as far as he could, both for the pleasure of the sight and because the same paranoia that made him want her to scout meant he feared for her, but soon he lost sight of her as she vanished behind a few blades of grass. Time dragged by and Blake began to gradually wonder what the very faint drumming noise was before he realised that was his fingers nervously moving on the hilt of his sword. To his relief Neeshka suddenly appeared out from the cover of a pebble and waved to them with a smile.

"Looks like a group of Witches," Neeshka reported, seeing Blake's expression and accepting a quick one-armed hug from him.

"Perhaps Ku'arra was not exaggerating how much the Witches hunted her tribe," mused Gann, "though when you say a group?"

"There were several of them," Neeshka replied, "which after only seeing them in twos and threes before was a bit of a surprise."

Gann nodded. "Then these may be Durthans, we are far enough from Mulsantir for them to safely gather and plot here but not so far for it to be difficult to reach that city."

"I… have no quarrel with the Durthans," Blake realised. "They might be enemies of the Witches but the Witches have not been good enough friends to me for their politics and plotting to be my concern. Or at least not my concern compared with ending this curse."

"My feelings differ slightly," replied Gann, "I would prefer the Durthans to not gain advantage, but I can understand you not wanting to become more involved. A note of caution though, whatever you feel these women may feel differently so if we approach their camp we should be careful."

Blake paused and thought. "Unless we retrace our steps we have no choice but to approach, my friend, and we need to know who these people are. What their purpose is here and whether it has any connection with how unsettled the spirits are. If this is their doing or if they seek to cure it."

"Then let us approach little-one," Okku growled impatiently. "Enough time has been wasted with caution and discussion."

Not waiting to see if the others were following Okku prowled forward and towards the slight bend from around which he could smell the smoke. Though the aid of the Othlors had balanced the hindrance of Dalenka nothing, so far, had balanced Kazimika's mockery of his loss of so many memories of life. So whether these were Witch or Durthan mattered little to him as long as they gave proper respect to him and the spirits and did not interfere with his oath.

As Neeshka had reported there were several masked women and as Okku's nose had reported there was a campfire. They turned at the sound of Blake's clanking and of Okku crushing quite substantial bushes underfoot. Some nervous looks were exchanged before an older one stepped forward as a spokesman. Behind her the others moved to what Blake, with a sinking heart, realised were positions where they had clear lines of sight for spellcasting.

"Ah… look," the old masked woman said, suiting actions to words as her gaze travelled up and down Blake's body. "Spirit of hunger, we know you. Hiding here amongst these crags, we heard your approach, like a shriek upon the wind."

"Hiding," Blake muttered, noticing that and realising that made it almost certain these were Durthans. He raised his voice to address their leader. "If you know something about my curse or the turmoil around these wells then perhaps we can trade favour for favour, or information for gold."

"No. I have a different sort of trade in mind…" smiled the old Durthan evilly, "one more favourable to myself and my sisters."

"More fighting harbour-boy," Neeshka softly commented, "which is good as I owe her some pain for checking you out like that."

Blake shuddered slightly to Neeshka as the old Durthan continued. "If we slay you here your hunger will pass to one of us… and we can use the power against our cowering sisters. It will be Whitefeather who cowers amongst the rocks and wails her sorrow on the empty wind…"

"Wails," Blake replied, a small corner of his mind glad he'd learned Sheva's surname so he knew who this Durthan meant, "excellent idea."

This even more of a risk than the Firebrand as he had cast this spell maybe as much as twice since he learned it, and failure could cost him his one chance to soften them up, but Blake began to quickly chant and summon arcane power. The old Durthan had frowned in puzzlement when Blake seemed to agree with her, but then she recognised a phrase of the magic and realised what he meant. She and the other Durthans began to cast their own spells but, despite him not being well practised with his spell, Blake managed to beat them to finishing and in the centre of their group spectral dust began to swirl.

Out of that dust erupted a giant ghostly woman who curled and drew in more breath than even her great lungs should hold, then to arch her back and release it in one long scream that rippled out across the Durthans. More than half of them collapsed in the suddenness of instant death as the woman and the dust vanished. Blake nodded to himself at the success of this attempt at casting Wail of the Banshee in armour and without gesturing. He drew his sword and plunged forward to take advantage of whatever shock the sudden change in the odds had bought them.

The old Durthan was tough and had survived the spell but compared with the Uthraki her flesh was delicate silk compared with sailcloth to cut. Blake continued the momentum of drawing his sword into a backhand sweep to slice the tip of his sword across her stomach. Neither the cloth of the dress or the aged body below provided much resistance as the blade carved through and the old Durthan crumpled around the wound. Even had Blake's sword not had magic that discharged into her guts as it passed that would still have been a fatal disembowelling wound without prompt healing.

Blake pulled his sword back to curve it up and around to attempt a vertical downward blow onto the now exposed back of the old Durthan's neck as one hand tried to hold her innards in and the other supported her as she leaned forward on her knees. But though the other three Durthans had faltered for a moment as their sisters died they had recovered now and each of them cast a Lesser Missile Storm at Blake. Magical missiles blossomed out from them and arced at Blake.

Neeshka had taken advantage of the talking to unfasten the clasp of her cloak and she darted forward, the cloak falling off behind her, to protect her harbour-boy. Even she was not quite as fast as the projectiles of magic energy so most still struck Blake. One lesser storm he could almost have ignored but three striking almost simultaneously and when he was a little off balance in mid-swing was far too much for him. The impacts and the pain drove him down onto one knee and he had to rest his sword and sword-hand on the ground to keep himself from falling further. The few missiles that had struck Neeshka had made her stumble and make a small noise of pain that caused a tingle of rage to flush up Blake's spine.

Blake looked up at his sweetheart, his armour plates glowing in patches where the missiles had struck and it was trying to re-radiate the energy away. Some of those patches were overlapping and there especially Blake could feel some heat through the chainmail and the padded shirt beneath.

"Fourth," Blake grunted.

Very briefly Neeshka's brow creased in puzzlement between her dainty horns but then this cleared as she smiled and sprang at the nearest Durthan. Okku had also not been wasting time and he was charging with slightly less speed and considerably more weight at the Durthan on the other flank. She was backing away before him but Neeshka's target showed less sense or more over-confidence and stood her ground. She chanted and cast Flame Arrow but to her surprise and dawning fear the small balls of flame swirling around each other swirled into the shield rather than the body of the charging Tiefling. Neeshka's shield glowed and the Durthan hurriedly cast Magic Missile.

This was a weak spell but she had prepared it to be cast more swiftly, so she knew she could cast it in time, and projectiles of magic energy had hurt this demon-spawn before where the Flame Arrow had not. But again Neeshka's shield seemed to draw the spell into it and glowed with even more vigour. The Durthan had a moment to realise what the armoured man had meant by 'fourth', he had been telling the Tiefling what circle of spell Isaac's Lesser Missile Storm was, and to wonder if that difference was why her third and first circle spells had failed where that had not.

Then Neeshka's rapier flicked out and sliced across her chest just above one breast. That arm went limp with the pain and with the severed muscles so it fell to her side uselessly. The Durthan raised her other hand in front of her face to try to ward off the next attack but that just gave her a better view of another rapier flick neatly clipping through those fingers. Her hand dropped as she stared at it in shock and then, taking advantage of her defencelessness and her distraction, a third and final flick from Neeshka's rapier sliced her throat open to the spine.

The Durthan being charged by Okku had abandoned simply backing away in favour of turning to flee. She had even managed to run a few strides despite how her skirts hampered her. As impressive as that was it did her no avail as Okku swiped a paw across her lower spine and buttocks and shredded them with his spirit-sharp claws. Her momentum and the impact of the blow carried her on a few feet though her legs no longer worked with how she had been almost torn in half. Okku twisted back from how the power of his own blow had diverted him and reared up almost onto his hind legs. This was more the tactic of a horse but it worked well enough for the bear-god as he brought both paws down onto the Durthan's back to crush her chest and heart and lungs and finish her.

Gann paused as he reached Blake who was still struggling to rise. He was firmly braced on his knee and the lower point of his shield but every time he tried to stand he gasped slightly and sank back down again. Beseeching the spirits for aid Gann let some healing energy flow into Blake and freed of that pain Blake's shoulders and back straightened. Seeing no reason to not achieve two things at once Blake stabbed his sword down in front of him where the old Durthan had fallen prone and through her old body into the ground below. This let him make sure she was dead and also to use his securely rooted sword to help lever himself up to his feet.

"Thank you," Blake said, with a nod to Gann and a slight wobble as yanked his sword back out of the fresh corpse and the blood-soaked soil beneath.

"Of course," replied Gann graciously, "though my aiding you might have given us a problem."

The final one of the trio of younger Durthans that had survived the Banshee's wail had also Okku charge and showing some degree of sense had fled while the bear-god pursued her friend. She seemed to be attempting to test the truth of the old saying that you did not have to be faster than the bear, just faster than at least one of your friends.

"Go," Blake waved, taking a deep breath.

Gann nodded, for once not objecting to 'orders', and started to dash in pursuit. Blake took another deep breath as he decided that turnabout would be fair play and began to chant and summon arcane power to him. This only took a few seconds but the Durthan was not a fast runner and with his greater natural speed, lack of hampering skirts, and the effects of Blake's magic Gann had already made up most of the distance before Blake's spell was complete. A Lesser Missile Storm burst from empty air around and in front of Blake's hand and as those missiles arced in and struck the Durthan fell.

These had easily pierced the cloth of her dress and, without the protection even normal armour would give, deep burns pitted her body to wrack her with pain as she tried to rise. Showing greater willpower than Blake, or at least greater motivation as she was alone, the Durthan fought against the agony her wounds caused her as she moved and lurched up onto her hands from lying flat. But the delay had given Gann time to reach her and he stabbed down into her back and through her spine and heart. The tip of his spearhead projected an inch or so out between her breasts and then Gann braced one foot on her back and shoved down with this while pulling back with his arms to rip his spear free again.

Blake brought himself to a stop as he saw Gann needed no aid, his boots digging slightly into in the loose dirt, and looked around. Neeshka smiled at him and started to move to join him, cleaning off her rapier as she did, and Okku was already looking pristine as his spirit-form rejected the gore that had coated his claws. Frowning a little Blake began following his beloved's example and drew out his own cloth to wipe off his sword. He shook his head though as he looked around at the carnage.

"I was not entirely content leaving the Uthraki unburied," Blake commented, "and these we would at least have some idea what would satisfy Jergal."

"Or more importantly satisfy your conscience," shrugged Gann, not caring about the opinion of one of the supposed Gods. "I agree though that leaving these where they lie would allow scavengers, such as the Uthraki cubs, to feast."

Blake slowly nodded. "We can't stop them rotting, but we can wrap them and put them in their house, where they might not be gnawed on by more than rats…" Blake paused and asked hesitantly. "Unless that would be better? I have read of some cultures where they want the bodies eaten as soon as possible so the flesh is removed to release the spirit within."

"Believe me," Gann chuckled, "in Rashemen we know when a spirit has left the body, and that flesh being on the bones is no obstacle to that." Gann paused and went on diplomatically. "Though… I will allow that it may be different in places where the spirits of the land are not as strong and as present and that aiding the spirit's escape may be necessary there."

"Whatever we do with them, harbour-boy, we should check the house anyway."

"Are you thinking loot," smiled Blake, "or ambush?"

"Both," Neeshka replied.

To their satisfaction there were no more Durthans waiting in ambush but to Neeshka's disappointment there were few items worth taking. Even before she'd met Blake petty burglary was something she'd long since given up as unworthy of her talents, and these people had been living simply. There were some gold and gems and some hand-written notes recording how this wealth had been depleted with bribes in Mulsantir. Neeshka took the former and Blake the latter before they began stripping beds for sheets to wrap corpses in. The fastidious Gann naturally gravitated to one of those first slain whose bodies were not quite so unpleasantly wounded.

"That… spell you cast," Gann commented as he began rolling the corpse into the sheet. "It seems most useful, and deadly as this Durthan would attest, but I do not recall you learning any new ones or using it before."

Blake nodded as he wondered if he should leave the old Durthan to drain a little more or use another sheet. There was a red stain seeping through each layer as he wrapped her. "Remember I said I needed extra power to avoid the gestures?"

"Ah, and that was power you did not have over that which the spell required?" nodded Gann. Blake nodded back to him as he finished with the first sheet so Gann added, "I am glad my spirits would allow my appeals to be heard even if I encased myself in metal."

"No offence, my friend," Blake enquired, deciding to use a second sheet, "but why don't you? You are quite fast on your feet but not so fast that, with your strength, more weight of armour would slow you."

"I… enjoy the pleasures of civilisation," explained Gann, rocking back onto his heels and standing smoothly. "The hospitality of Inns, the taste of fine cooking, the chance of conversation and other forms of intercourse. But your armour is dead. It is rocks hammered and crushed and burned, metals extracted and detritus strewn across the land. Contaminated water seeping into the streams from quenching and soaking."

"Hmm. I have heard this argument from Elanee," Blake mused, glad to see a second sheet was enough to absorb what was leaking from the old Durthan. "You feel leather is more 'natural'?"

"My armour may be just as dead as yours," replied Gann, starting on a second unmarked corpse, "but it was once alive. It was part of animals killed in the natural cycle of life and death. Their meat fed other animals or rotted to return goodness to the soil and allow fresh growth, and I thanked the spirits for their gift. I accept the need for some metal, my buckles and spearhead but…"

"But rather a difference between some metal buckles and having plates or chainmail. I understand, and my apologies. You seemed at ease enough in Mulsantir…"

"By which harbour-boy means you were not gawping like he was when he arrived in Neverwinter," grinned Neeshka from where she was wrapping her victim, "or complaining the whole time about how the land was crushed beneath the stones of streets and buildings like Elanee was."

"...That I had not considered you might feel that way from your bond with the spirits and having been raised by them," Blake finished, ignoring Neeshka's loving mockery of him and jibe at Elanee with the ease of long practice.

"No apology needed," Gann smiled, looking pleased at the neatness of the bundle he had made "As I say I do appreciate what a town can offer, so you were right to think me at ease, but I also appreciate nature and am at ease in it as well. I have no quarrel with miners or those that use their goods, but I would simply not feel comfortable wearing metal when I know how some mining can affect the life around it."

"And I have met those who take the near exact opposite view," Blake smiled in return, standing and looking for the next corpse for him to wrap. "They'll not eat meat nor wear leather as they feel killing is wrong. Some can get quite annoyed if you pass on Oghma's gift of knowledge and tell them their cloth came from a field carved out of a forest or their metal from a mine that has poisoned a stream."

Neeshka giggled a little. "We'd already annoyed some of the Neverwinter Nobles by finding their children playing with Necromancy, and then Elanee lectured some others on this and on where some of the bleaches and dyes for their clothes came from."

"Dispelling illusions," Gann commented, "especially those of moral superiority, can lead to hard feelings."

Fairly soon all the Durthan corpses were wrapped singly or doubly in sheets and were placed together to share the same house in death they had in life. Okku had been unable to help with this and his impatience for it to be finished had become obvious. Even if he'd tried he'd not have been able to contain the low murmur of satisfaction he gave when he saw Neeshka locking the door and handing the house-key to Blake. The way south was blocked by a sheer wall of rocks as was the way north or further west so that only left the gorge that headed east from here to where it met the one along which they had approached.

"Your impatience is worrying, my friend," Blake commented to Okku as they started down this gorge. "I can still feel the unease of the spirits around us but I had hoped I was mistaken."

"Mistaken how, little-one?"

"That the Durthans wanted the power of the spirit-eater," Blake replied, glancing up at the slopes, "suggested they were willing to act against the spirits. So I hoped I was mistaken in thinking their death had made no difference."

"I think their deaths did make a difference," growled Okku, "but to prevent things getting worse. Foul creatures that they were they did not deserve the respect you showed their corpses."

"Hmm, I'd argue that I wanted to preserve the bodies in case the Witches wished to examine them, but we'd both know that was not my reason."

"You felt you had the time," smiled Gann, "and you had the materials and a place to put them nearby. After leaving so many corpses behind us you could at least treat some with a little respect."

"But only some," said Blake, making a decision for when they returned to Mulsantir.

They continued on eastwards with the rocks to the north remaining impassable and an even greater sense of oppression falling on all of them save Neeshka. Creaks and falling pebbles suggested rocks almost parting from the gorge walls before settling back and Blake felt the curse twitch each time. It felt similar to how it had been reacting to that gigantic Earth Elemental in the Skein but if Elementals were going to manifest here then they seemed to have changed their minds. The turmoil of the spirits around them seemed to be reaching the boil as they walked further along this gorge and Blake found himself both pleased they seemed to be nearing the centre of this and tempted to turn back.

"Perhaps I should try learning some new spells," Blake said, trying to break the silence. "I have spent much time and effort to better use what I already know…"

"To not need the extra power?" asked Gann, willing to make conversation.

"Yes," Blake replied, the feelings around him driving him into terseness before he remembered his own purpose in speaking. With an effort he continued, "I already know more spells than I can prepare each day, and these seem a broad selection, but studying a new spell could give me more insight into their underlying structure."

"Ah, yes, magic through structure," smiled Gann. "You have to build your spell like an artisan with a mosaic and a tray full of tiles. Whereas I just listen to the spirits and how they think they can assist and together we blend their offers and my wishes into a shape acceptable to us all."

"That does sound more… well… spiritual than books and logic," Blake agreed, "though a little study of what can be done might help you with deciding…"

Neeshka suddenly leapt up onto a rock almost as tall as she was and her slender fingers went to her quiver. A slight movement of her cloak showed her tail was twitching as a counter-balance as she brought her shortbow up and fitted an arrow to its string. Her surprisingly strong arms and chest flexed and she drew that bow and released that arrow at nothing. Gann and Okku both started to turn to look at her in confusion as the sharp arrowhead dug deep into the soft soil.

Blake though trusted her enough to react more instantly. Even as he thought '…deciding what could be requested or done with their offers…' to finish his interrupted sentence he was drawing his sword and preparing to strike at where Neeshka was aiming and releasing a second arrow towards. His trust was justified as four large spirit-wolves faded into existence and one prevented a third arrow from embedding itself in the dirt as it embedded itself in the spirit-wolf instead. That spirit-wolf began to yelp in surprise at the sudden pinprick but then Blake brought his sword down onto its back in a blow that would have killed or permanently disabled a creature of flesh. Unfortunately the spirit-form was tough enough the wolf continued to move and to heal, though it was definitely having trouble with its back legs.

Seeing the spirits materialising Gann had hurriedly backed off. This was both to let him use the reach of his spear and because, despite Neeshka's already hostile actions, he was unsure this needed to be a fight. The feeling this could be a mistake strengthened as the spirit-wolves ignored him and ignored Blake despite his sword strike. But then all four wolves snarled at Okku in rage and madness and tensed to spring. Gann hurriedly stabbed out with his spear and into the meat of one's thigh, achieving the mixed fortune of having it twist around to snarl at him as well. Flicking his spearhead at that face seemed to keep that spirit-wolf's attention, though Gann noticed it kept on glancing back towards Okku.

"They seem intent on old father bear," Gann commented, managing to inflict a shallow cut on one of the spirit-wolf's jowls.

Blake started to nod as he saw the two unwounded and undistracted ones spring forward and snap at Okku. Their spirit-teeth proved more capable of injuring the bear-god than most weapons and they tore shallow furrows from Okku's form. Then Blake had to dodge hurriedly as one huge paw swatted at the spirit-wolf he had slowed and Okku smashed it back head over tail and almost into him. This dodge became a stumble as Blake found himself clumsy and as the spirit-wolf's form swirled away in mid-air.

"Harbour-boy?" asked Neeshka in concern. She might tease him about not being as light-footed as she was but that was poor, even for him. She quickly dropped her bow onto the soft earth that had drifted around the boulder and hopped down from it to guard Blake.

"This curse is seething," Blake replied, regaining his balance. "Do you hear what they cry over and over?"

"No," said Neeshka, drawing her rapier as she reached his side, "though not hearing them let me feel the change in the air."

"'Betrayer'," Gann supplied, stabbing the spirit-wolf between the eyes. It swirled-away as he added. "And strangely directed towards Okku rather than the one with Akachi's curse…"

Okku roared with a rage fit to shake the rocks around them and his great jaws snapped forward and around the neck of a spirit-wolf. He shook it around like a terrier with a rat and as his teeth met to tear its throat out and he snapped its neck it came apart in his mouth. The spirit-form swirled away from beneath his teeth as the final spirit-wolf made a lunge and sank its own teeth into Okku's rear in the classic hamstringing attack of its kind. Even Okku was slowed slightly by having a spirit-wolf of that size hanging on his leg but as the spirit-wolf had no remaining pack-mates there was little advantage to it in this.

Its one advantage was that while it clung on the bear-god could not reach it with his teeth, though as Okku whirled he battered the spirit-wolf slightly against the sides of the gorge. If he would hold still then Blake and Gann could soon have dealt with the problem but with how Okku was moving it was only Neeshka who was fast enough to dart forward as he roared his rage and pain. Her rapier dabbed out in a lightning-fast stab into the spirit-wolf's neck just behind its jaw and then she had to jump back as Okku continued to turn, heedless of her but causing the spirit-wolf to thump against a rock as it lost its grip. Then Okku's paw came in with enough force to uproot and knock the massive boulder askew as he crushed the spirit-wolf's head against it.

Okku turned and glared at his allies, his yellow eyes glowing in the shaded light of the gorge and whirling with his rage, his spirit-form not needing to breathe so the deep breaths he appeared to be taking caused by emotion rather than exertion. As he let out a wordless snarl Blake wondered if the bear-god was in such a frenzied state that he would be unable to tell friend from foe. Okku was a valued ally and friend but, if he sought a third battle, then Blake was willing to slay him rather than endanger Neeshka as the bear-god had just done with his careless actions.

With another snarl Okku turned away and began stalking down the gorge, his growls and grumbles and the three mortals trailing in his wake once Neeshka had picked her bow up. Gradually he calmed and the growls subsided. There was still much anger in his voice though as he regained the ability to form words as they approached a cluster of pools. "Betrayer?" he grumbled. "These spirits… in life they served my clan. Why has this madness taken them?"

In reply three gigantic spirit bears shimmered into existence, partially surrounding the group and making Okku look like a garish cub with their size and lack of unusual colour. Okku faltered in his stride and stopped as he looked around at them with recognition. Blake casually stepped a little closer to Neeshka to put his shield between her and one of the bears and she gave a slight smile to herself at the predictability of her harbour-boy's protectiveness as she reached for an arrow.

"You should know this already," one huge spirit-bear said, sneering and exposing fangs even more magnificent than Okku's. "Noble Kuma… venerable Wotomo…" he continued with a turn of his head to each, "shake off your dreams and look who has come with his head hung low in shame."

"I see him Jabar," Wotomo replied, "but I see little shame in my grandson's posture."

"The danger I sensed before was not the maddened spirits of the crags," Gann muttered quietly, "but these spirits before us. Be on your guard."

"Ancestors…" started Okku, his deep rumble sounding as light as a summer mist in comparison.

"Bah! Do not claim us as kin," growled Jabar. "Our blood ran thin in your veins, and now it does not run at all."

"You cast aside your obligations," Kuma added, "you followed your own path rather than honour those and left suffering in your wake."

"Okku, son of Koju…" began Wotomo formally, "do you remember this place as it was? Enough to understand the ruin you have made?"

"The turmoil is Okku's doing?" Blake asked incredulously. "Not the Uthraki or the Durthans… or me?"

"I know nothing of this elders," rumbled Okku, raising his head a little from where he had lowered it in automatic respect, "these spirits served me in life but I am not…"

"We know of your oath, son of my son," Wotomo interrupted, easily crushing Okku's words with his own, "and you led your race to ruin."

"Have you not looked for your kin?" asked Jabar. "Have you not wondered where they've gone?"

"Have you not considered your duty to your own people?" Kuma added. "The duty that came with your noble status?"

"Or," said Jabar with a look of disdain for Blake, "does this monster who holds your leash not permit you such thoughts?"

"The only leash I hold is that which I have imposed on the curse within me," Blake said, hoping Milil would aid his attempt at eloquent diplomacy. "The curse that Okku seeks to end and which we are allied against through his own free will. If my friend has committed some crime then I ask his honoured ancestors to at least explain and allow him to defend himself before their judgement."

"You see?" rumbled Okku. "He is no monster. We will end this curse and…"

"Of course you are allied," Jabar interrupted, "that is what he swore and for that oath he doomed his race."

"Ancestors…" said Okku, actually cringing back a little in shock, "I would not have…"

"Do you remember the fight on the ice, grandson?" Wotomo asked, either impatient with the lack of memory or taking pity on Okku's confusion. "How you led your clan against the eater of spirits?"

"The frozen lake. Yes… I dreamed of this," murmured Okku. "Those memories were strong in my mind when I laid down in my barrow to die."

"Okku has told me of this," added Blake. "How he and his followers fought the previous spirit-eater and how despite their great valour they were defeated. And then how that spirit-eater spared his life so they could ally against the curse."

"My grandson's wounds were deep. His spirit bled… and faded…"

"He should have come to the Wells to die, venerable Wotomo," Jabar nodded, "as our law commands."

"He had been fatally wounded in noble battle," added Kuma, "the Queen of Talking Beasts would have judged his soul and freed him from his oath."

"But Okku chose his oath above his law," Jabar growled. "He brought the monster to our sacred barrow, to the chamber that was meant for him!"

"The chamber where I awoke…" realised Blake, "where the previous spirit-eater's skeleton lay."

"I told you it seemed strange Okku's bones were right by the exit," Neeshka commented quietly, "rather than as deep into the barrow as possible."

"Mph. Dreams are returning to me, little one…" rumbled Okku softly as he saw the visions, "perhaps it is the waters of the Wells drifting on the air. I remember how the spirit eater traced runes upon the stone and how when he died… and the hunger fled his corpse… it was trapped by those. And that as long as it was trapped the hunger could not pass to another."

"That much we had deduced," Blake noted, asking in puzzlement, "but why would that have doomed your race?"

"My grandson would have you believe he made a noble sacrifice, spirit-eater…"

"And had he sacrificed only himself perhaps it would have been," interjected Kuma.

"But he sacrificed more than that," Wotomo continued. "Our barrow is a sacred place… a wellspring of dreams. It was poisoned by the monster that was trapped within and all our race went mad. They perished as wild slavering brutes."

"That… that is…" stuttered Blake, words deserting him in his shock and as he realised why the madness of the spirit turmoil here had resonated with the curse.

"I need not explain my reasons to petty vengeful ghosts," Okku growled, trying to drive guilt out with anger. "They lured me here, lying in wait, no better than mortal men in the skins of beasts."

"Whatever your reasons, Okku son of Koju you must answer for the death of our race," declared Wotomo. "So say all the elders."

"And… and what would you have done?" Blake asked, regaining his voice. "Allowed the curse to continue? Hundreds of spirits devoured in a year, hundreds of hundreds devoured in the century of respite Okku's actions gave Rashemen."

"A king's duty is to his clan first, and to other races second, or not at all!" snapped Jabar.

"Our race was the last of the beasts who ran with gods at the dawn of the Age of Faith," Wotomo added, "and who spoke the words of mortal men!"

"Yes," mused Kuma, reluctantly but honestly considering Blake's question, "but the noble status that made us a wonder to be preserved also brought its own responsibilities with it. If your life was bought with ten thousand spirits is that a life worth having?"

Jabar grumbled as he tried to find some way to deny Kuma's words and seeing this Okku returned the sneer his relative had bestowed on them. "Look at them. They are old," Okku said contemptuously. "Once they dreamed of wind, and blood, and sky. Now they chatter like apes, and bicker over laws."

"With… respect Okku," Blake replied, "As I am closer to being an ape than a bear I prefer them speaking to us to learn before acting to how you tried to kill me without explanation. We could have been allied from our first meeting rather than it taking two battles."

"Hrmph," snorted Okku.

"No. My grandson is right. We have lingered too long without flesh or fur. Our minds are full of words, not dreams. We shall let the son-of-my-son find peace in his own way if he can, but do not look for us again. His race must be lost to him now and always, we can forgive but not forget that he doomed us so he must pay the price for that decision."

"Farewell Grandfather," Okku rumbled to Wotomo as the three bears faded.

Blake looked at where they had been and then sighed. "You did the right thing," he said reassuringly, turning to Okku, "but that deed brought pain your presence would keep from becoming numb."

"So we have learned in these gorges, little-one," Okku murmured, not reassured but grateful for the attempt, "their forgiveness has eased the turmoil a little but seeing me and remembering what I did is still driving some mad. We were the greatest of bears, it was our honour to be sacrificed for Rashemen, but that was still sacrifice so I do understand and accept their judgement."

"Then for the sake of the spirits here let us not linger," replied Blake. "We have found the solution to the problem would be our absence so let us depart."

"Perhaps not yet," Gann said, kneeling and examining the closest pool. "This is an ancient place, one well worthy of the presence of old father bear's even older forefathers as it is sacred to beasts that possess awareness of themselves and their consciousness. However Okku affected the spirits the memories within these pools remain untouched by the turmoil."

"What kind of memories?" asked Blake. "Memories that could hold clues to how to destroy this curse?"

"Not as such," Gann replied, closing his eyes slightly as he reached out with his sensitivity. "Words and facts are not the nature of their minds but fragments of their waking dreams can still be seen and those dreams were not so different from yours, though some of their senses were keener. If you drink from these pools in which they bathed and with my mother's eye to aid you it may be possible to share those dreams and, maybe, the dreams of what lurks within you."

"Would I have to drink here? Remain in this sacred place, as I suspect, or could I just fill a canteen so we can leave the sooner?"

"Hmm, remaining would layer more hurt upon that already inflicted," rumbled Okku, "but if it can help end the curse then so be it. Perhaps when my oath is complete and the spirit-eater is no more there may be a chance they can heal."

"And we do need to remain," Gann added. "Here is where they dreamed and so also where you must dream. I will stand beside you, here and in your dreams, and help you sort and channel any images that occur so this be worth the pain we are reluctant to inflict."

"At least while the curse is within me it is not poisoning the wellspring in Okku's barrow," sighed Blake, " and may Lurue preserve us from also poisoning these Wells if I do become attuned to the dreams here."

"Lurue, or your control over the curse, or my efforts to help prevent anything… leaking… or indeed all three of those should make it safe enough."

Blake nodded and began unbuckling his shield in preparation to settle and dream. Then he glanced at Gann again as a thought occurred. "I am surprised you did not scorn my mention of Lurue."

"Lurue is not a Goddess of misguided men," smiled Gann, "she is Goddess of Beasts and the Spirits they became, and if those spirits who raised me think her worthy of respect then who am I to argue?"

"Makes sense," Blake admitted with another nod, sliding his shield from his arm. He looked to Neeshka. "Sweetheart, can you fill two cups, carefully, as I don't want to touch the water myself until I am prepared and we drink."

"Of course master," Neeshka said with a grin and a curtsy, "as his Lordship commands."

"Terrible trouble getting servants these days," drawled Blake to Gann as he sat and Neeshka got the water. "Still at least she is decorative."

"Very decorative," Gann agreed, wiggling his eyebrows at Neeshka as she returned.

For a moment Neeshka considered 'accidentally' spilling the water on the pair of them. But she reluctantly controlled her sense of humour as continuing the banter of being a clumsy servant could have more consequences than just them getting wet. She handed them each a cup and then knelt down behind Blake to reach around and unbuckle his helmet strap. Blake happily tilted his chin up to give her easier access and was even happier when having set his helmet aside and lowered his chainmail hood she pulled the back of his head to her chest to kiss him on the forehead. The leather of Neeshka's breastplate was not as thin and soft as that of a cushion but to Blake that was more than compensated for by it being filled with Neeshka rather than less desirable stuffing.

"As comfortable as that looks," smiled Gann, "I must make the same warning and request as at the Mosstone."

Blake looked blank for a moment before he remembered and leaned forward a little. "Ah, yes," he said, slightly sadly, "dreams are malleable and…" Blake paused and patted one of Neeshka's hands where it rested on his chest. "Being in my beloved's arms could shape them in a way you do not wish to see."

"There is that, but there is also the nature of this place. The comfort of curling up with one's mate, of a warm den or burrow shared, and of mutual affection would resonate far more with the spirits here than would any of the insights we seek. You would still gain by it by a deeper understanding of your feelings but for now I think we need less information of a less personal nature."

Neeshka stood gracefully, her hands sliding up across Blake's chest rather than her needing to brace them on his shoulders to help her rise, and stepped back a little. Blake's eyes followed her as she moved to join Okku and as he sighed a little to himself. Maybe whatever water of these wells did rise into the air was already causing a resonance or maybe it was that with him sitting and her walking his eyes were level with her tail and where it was attached but he was already finding it hard to remain focussed. Answers to the ancient curse seemed much less important than answers to how to better understand his feelings and make Neeshka happy.

Gann began to speak and Blake looked back to him to listen. "…flow of life, like rivers to the sea, and rain from the ocean, and streams from the rain, and rivers from the streams. Ever flowing, never ending, carrying our minds…" Gann paused. "Drink." They sipped the cool sweet water and the sounds of the pools seemed to grow louder as other noises retreated and the world became dim. "Carrying our minds to insight, to the answers we seek," Gann continued before switching to the same unknown language as he had used in their shared dream of the Chamber of Dreamers.

Gann chanted and Blake focussed again on the rhythm and the sense lurking behind the words and in their patterns. Everything dimmed as their minds focussed and this and the effects of the water drew them together into the shared visions. Suddenly Blake realised both that his eyes were closed and that he could no longer hear the ripples or splashes of the wells. Everything was quiet around them and as Blake opened his eyes he saw Gann peering about with interest.

"What is this place?" Gann asked. "Is this where you awoke? The barrow?"

"Aye," nodded Blake, taking in the scene, "this looks like the lowest level where the chamber was…" With one smooth motion Blake rose and his hand went to the hilt of his sword. "Though that man was not there."

"In a way I was," the old man said as Gann also stood. "And I am sorry you awoke here. No one should have been able to trespass, if the bear had been watchful and my wards had been strong, but I am glad you have returned. I feared you'd come too late or not at all. I've found something, kept it safe for many long years, but the Faceless Man may be close on your heels. We need to make haste."

"I think we should go with him," Gann commented.

"As do I," replied Blake, "he seems to be the echo of the previous spirit-eater from the way he spoke of 'his wards'."

The Old Man acknowledged that with a nod and gestured as he turned away. "Quickly now. Follow."

Obligingly they jogged after him though as they reached a corner Blake slowed and stopped. Rather than follow the Old Man immediately he peered into a side chamber. "Interesting," he commented.

"How so?" Gann asked. "This does seem a normal sort of camp."

"True, but a century of abandonment did not do it good," nodded Blake as he explained. "This vision of the barrow looks to be how it was when that man died rather than when I awoke."

"Ah, memories from him rather than you," Gann replied, "that augurs well for learning from this dream."

The Old Man was looking impatient from where he was waiting and casting looks back at them and then towards the chamber ahead so Blake and Gann moved to join him again. He looked at them and then gestured. "Look there, do you see him?"

"Yes," Blake said, peering and trying to remain pressed against the wall. Stealth was not his talent but he saw no need to be overly obvious. "Someone is within the circle of those pillars. In the place I found myself cursed when I awoke."

"He created all you see here," replied the Old Man, "or it formed around him like an island, a hidden fortress in a limbo of dream. I only drifted here by chance."

"A strange coincidence," mused Blake, "that someone else would create a replica of your chosen prison."

"Not so strange perhaps," Gann commented, "dreams can come from many parts of the mind and this curse does have many minds, and was trapped here for many years thanks to this man and Okku."

Blake nodded. "So who is this creator?"

"A remnant perhaps. A piece of a larger whole," replied the Old Man, "there were many such remnants once but the hunger has gradually devoured them all. I have come to believe that he is a memory, like me, of a previous spirit-eater… or of something that came before."

"You remember the Red Woman in the Mosstone Dream," Gann added, to Blake, "and how the images of previous spirit-eaters feared 'The Faceless Man'."

"He is the Hunger," the Old Man explained, "and against him this and I would be destroyed. No matter my efforts."

"Hopefully this remnant will be more helpful than the Red Woman, if she too was a remnant," Blake replied, "but even if not I do owe you some gratitude. Is there some way I can repay you for your work to keep this remnant and whatever clues it has safe?"

"I ask only your success and your forgiveness for how I have weakened. I set wards to guard this chamber against hostile echoes when I was far stronger and I cannot reverse these now. Beasts await you there, spun from your own darkest memories, and dreams they may be but if you are slain you may never find your way to us again."

Blake frowned a little as he looked back towards the circle of pillars and this time with the warning from the Old Man he could see what awaited them. He let out a low breath as his lips tightened against his teeth and he pulled back against the wall and retreated a few feet. Gann glanced down the passage and at Blake's reaction before he joined him and the listening Old Man. "We could have a problem," he murmured in a low voice that would carry far less than a whisper.

"How so?" asked Gann. "I agree the large figure looks impressive, glowing neck and skull for a head and so forth, but we have faced larger foes."

"That is a Shadow Reaver," Blake replied, "and the only way to defeat them was to recite their true names in a chant to weaken them. And we do not have that name and it was only Ammon Jerro or Zhjave who could pronounce the words of power."

"Ah, but you seem to missing something," smiled Gann, "which is that, if I recall your tale correctly, those were empowered by that 'King of Shadows' and that 'King' is something you have defeated and destroyed."

Blake smiled slightly back. "Let us hope, my friend, that I can keep that in mind, and believe it is vulnerable rather than remember otherwise." They crept the few feet back down the passageway and Blake looked over the scene again. "I don't think we can risk any magical attacks," he decided reluctantly. "I have lost sight of the remnant and they are close enough together an accident could happen. But at least if we can draw them onto the bridge we could take them piecemeal."

"Then let us take them," nodded Gann.

"Stay a little behind," Blake said, trying to use the Red Knight's gift of strategy, stepping forward and into view as he advanced, "you have the reach with your spear and I have the shield and armour."

"As easy as dreaming," smiled Gann.

The skull like head of the Shadow Reaver rotated on whatever magic served it for a neck and it gestured. Out of the dimness flowed two and then four shadows that wisped forward and onto the bridge. Blake drew his sword and as he tensed for battle felt grateful the dream had given him his shield back on his arm and his helmet and chainmail hood back on his head. The Shadows seemed to be moving closer to each other than creatures of flesh could and, though Blake was sure they did each retain their separate forms, they looked as if they were almost merging into one mass with multiple pairs of eyes.

Blake swept his sword forward and through one as it came within reach. This Shadow seemed not as dense as the Nightwalkers nor even as dense as the portal to the Shadow-Weave through which the King of Shadows had been being fed power. The blade passed through it as if it was nothing but smoke and behind it the shadow-form flowed back together. Even so the magic on Blake's sword discharged and a faint flash of light pulsed to outline the Shadow.

Gann also attacked and his spear quickly flicked out past Blake's shield and into another Shadow. As he drew his spear back and saw the hole flowing shut he also noticed the Shadow almost imperceptibly fade. It was like a raindrop in a muddy puddle, a brief area of clearness, the puddle looking unchanged, but the mud having been diluted by that tiny fraction. On the basis that enough rain would turn a muddy puddle into a relatively clear pond Gann let loose with a flurry of very quick light blows that would have barely pieced the skin to bleed most creatures. With how little resistance the Shadow provided though these all sank in and made a hole to further 'dilute' it.

He'd not really noticed the change in the Shadow he'd struck but Blake was also trying to perform quick light strikes as speed seemed better than strength here. As valued an ally as Gann had become Blake did wish his beloved Neeshka was here. She'd be complaining about the lack of vital organs and vulnerable veins and tendons but she did have a great deal of speed and Blake had the same disadvantage. He was nowhere near as precise as she was in his blows, despite the insight he felt he had gained through practice, but he had still trained to land a strong blow on a weak spot. Here no part of the shadow was armoured, or any more or less vulnerable, so precision was less useful and with their insubstantial nature so was putting any force behind the attack.

Seeing how the Shadows were trying to flow over Blake to grapple at his shield Gann beseeched the spirits for their aid and in response they let a wave of healing energy ripple out across the bridge. The Shadows recoiled, hurt rather than seriously injured, and Blake took advantage of this. He waved his sword in front of him as if he was trying to fan away smoke. With how they blurred together and with the normal shadows of the chamber the way the magic of his sword lit their outlines was almost the only way to see how many there were.

Gann continued to flurry spear thrusts at them while Blake kept his sword sweeping back and forth and slowly the Shadows faded towards transparency as they each became less dense and as pairs of eyes vanished and they were no longer trying to see through as many of them. As the last of them dissipated the Shadow Reaver stepped forward with an angry noise and Blake caught a brief glimpse of a small form behind it. As the Shadow Reaver came within range he swung his sword around and into just below where most creatures of that shape would have ribs.

To Blake's annoyance the cloth of the robe barely cut under the blow. Instead it just bent in as if he had been striking a curtain and the Shadow Reaver's only reaction was to punch back. Blake angled his shield and deflected this aside as the Shadow Reaver showed its fist was more solid than its body and that it was strong enough it was fortunate Blake had not tried to take that blow more squarely. With the precipitous drop it would have been bad to be staggered and Blake suspected the Shadow Reaver might be more able to reform its fist than the Lich had been when it shattered it on the blade-ridge of Blake's shield.

Gann quickly stabbed forward and up and into the Shadow Reaver's skull as something that looked solid. There was a distinct thunk as the spearhead dug in and wedged itself firm. Then the wood of the spear shaft began to smoulder slightly in the arcane blue flames rising from the Shadow Reaver's collar as Gann began trying to work either the spearhead or the Shadow Reaver's head free. The Shadow Reaver showed itself to not be as troubled by having a spear in its head as many things would and began to bring one hand up to grab at the spearshaft. Seeing this Blake swept his sword across his body, holding it vertical almost as if he was hooking a punch into someone's kidney.

The cuff of the robe sleeve fluttered away as Blake's sword cleanly cut through it and the shadowy arm beneath but more shadow began to flow out of the shortened sleeve and shape itself into a replacement forearm and hand. Before this could be completed Blake took advantage of the distraction to crouch and get his shoulder between neck and pauldron under the spearshaft. Blake straightened as Gann also heaved up. Though the wood of the spear flexed a little their combined efforts were enough to pop the Shadow Reaver's head free; it fell back as the blue flames guttered out and the robes seemed to deflate as shadow drained out of them across the bridge and down into the darkness below.

"I do hope that means it's destroyed," Gann commented, shaking the skull from his spear, "rather than it joining the shadows beneath us." Blake nodded and Gann looked ahead and continued. "Ah, it seems the remnant here might be one we have heard mentioned. The shades of those unpleasant former hosts did mention something called 'The Boy' and this young fellow would fit that description."

"You have a better memory for the dreams than I do my friend," admitted Blake. "My memory is more of their deeds than their words. But though I think you are right there is still a puzzle here."

"How so?" Gann asked as they approached, Blake sheathing his sword since Shadows had left no gore on it and the child smiling at them in greeting.

"He looks familiar, and familiar to me as well as to the memories of this curse."

"There… is something about him," Gann mused, "something on the edge of recognition for me as well."

The Old Man carefully crossed the bridge, giving the empty Shadow Reaver robes a suspicious look, and joined them. "Do you remember me child? I've brought someone to meet you."

"Have you seen my brother?" asked The Boy eagerly, before adding with more sadness. "I think… he's forgotten me."

"Your brother?" Blake replied. "I don't know, who is he?"

"The priests call him Akachi," said The Boy, giving Blake another smile as Blake and Gann twitched in reaction. "He says it's an eastern name, we all get them when we're given to the church. I'm called Eveshi, but when the priests aren't listening my brother calls me Ahrraman."

"Araman?" repeated Gann in surprise. Blake nodded to him as they realised why he looked familiar.

"'Ahrraman'…" mused the Old Man, "the word for laughter in the old Mulan tongue."

"My brother says I laugh enough for the both of us," The Boy nodded. "He says I'll never make a very good priest if I can't stop giggling during services."

"Perhaps not a good priest of Myrkul," Blake replied, "but Lilira, the Joybringer, would have more delight in your happiness." Blake sighed to Gann. "A shame we have seen him as an old man and know he becomes less happy."

"Are you certain?" asked the Old Man, overhearing. "But that could be…"

"Here, take this," interrupted The Boy, pressing something into Blake's hand, "I've saved it for you."

"A piece of a mask?" frowned the Old Man lightly in puzzlement. "He never offered that to me."

"A third mask fragment, to join the other two," Gann mused, "and perhaps enough for it to be complete."

"My thanks Ahrraman," said Blake, trying to carefully pronounce the name, "but how do I use it and the others?"

"We are what we remember, what we dream," The Boy replied, sounding older somehow as he became more poetic. "Nothing is gone while pieces still remain. This is the piece that is me, but I am only a part… a part of a whole…"

The Old Man opened his mouth and began excitedly speaking and trying to give advice but though Blake could see his mouth moving a sudden rushing in his ears drowned out the words. The cavern seemed to dance and fade like the lights of swamp gas and to break apart and fragment as Blake swayed with sudden dizziness. He fought against the feeling to try to hear or try to read the Old Man's lips or body language but realising this was no use he gave himself to the feeling and flowed with it. The feel of his weight on his feet faded and between one deep breath and the next was replaced by that weight now being on his rear and the underside of his legs where he sat. Blake opened his eyes and saw the smiling face of his sweetheart close to his as she looked into them.

"Welcome back harbour-boy," Neeshka smiled, glancing down at his hands, "is that another bit of mask?"

"Aye, it seems these fragments are also fragments of memory," replied Blake, "that together they would make something greater."

"I am unsure where that unpleasant Bishop would fit," Gann commented, "unless it was more him being in the Wall of the Faithless than that it was him. But at the Mosstone we saw an image of the Red Woman who Akachi loved and just now we met a Boy who was Akachi's brother that stood with him in the Crusade."

"Two people important to Akachi," nodded Blake, "and if not a person then a location important to him in the other dream." Blake reached into his pack to draw out the other two mask fragments and lay them in his lap with the third. "So these may be the echo of Akachi himself. Which does not make me regard them with any great favour after seeing and having to deal with the consequences of his actions."

"And I doubt it would be as simple to reunite his fragments as it would be to glue those pieces of mask together," Gann added, "so what you are to do with those is a puzzle, perhaps, for another time. For now is there anything else we need to do here?"

"We visited the Hill Tribe, as planned," Blake thought aloud, "and dealt with the three other problems of Anya, the Durthans, and why the spirits here were inflamed."

"The Witches may be interested to hear of this…" Gann began.

"Is it their concern, spawn-of-hags?" grumbled Okku, interrupting.

"Not of the details of your sacrifice, god-of-bears," Gann said, adding with a smile, "and for myself I would prefer to keep my mistake with Anya private."

Blake nodded. "We should return to Mulsantir, partially so the Witches can be informed of our fighting the Uthraki and the Durthans and what we have learned but mostly because Shadow Mulsantir is where we need to travel from. Either the portal to Thay or if we are to explore the Death God's Vault and see if that is where the Betrayer's Gate is."

"Could be a problem with that last bit harbour-boy," Neeshka pointed out. "You gave the key to the lower levels of the Vault, that replica of the Sword of Gith, to that sanctimonious Dove."

"I did," Blake winced. "I thought we had no reason to want to go down there so I could afford to let Kaelyn have what she sought."

"It could still work out," shrugged Gann. "I expect with how determined she was she will have used it, so we may find the gate open."

"Perseverance is part of Ilmater's creed…"

"So is martyrdom," Neeshka interrupted.

"True," agreed Blake with a sigh. "She may have 'persevered' enough to 'martyr' herself. If Tymorra smiled on her then she will have been victorious or at least lucky enough to escape. If Tymorra smiles on us then she will have left the gate to the lower level open."

"Aim high harbour-boy," Neeshka winked, reaching out and ruffling his hair. "Hope for a big grin from Lady Luck and that Dovey-Wovey cleared out a lot of undead or tripped most of the traps before she died."

"Or retreated," replied Blake. Then he cast Neeshka a slightly suspicious look as he wondered if she had deliberately missed that off. If she had meant that if they were very lucky then Kaelyn would have died as well as done significant damage to the dangers of the lower level.

"This will not help with the Betrayer's Gate itself," Gann commented, "so along with discovering how Nefris would speak to Myrkul we have a second thing to search for in Thay."

"I was hoping for many long years, preferably with Neeshka, before I saw any plane of death, so hopefully that is not necessary."

"Necessary or not we'd still search," Neeshka frowned, crossing her arms across her bosom. "It's the principle of the thing, like my coin, if someone steals something from you then you steal it right back. Even if it might be in bits again and even if you don't need it to open some gate."

Blake looked at Neeshka for a moment. From experience he knew better than to try to argue with her about if they needed to recover the Sword of Gith and he decided he was being over-suspicious about what fate she was wishing on Kaelyn. Reluctantly he dragged his eyes away from the pleasant sight of his sweetheart and to the more practical matter of judging how far above the surrounding hills the sun was. With the searching and the fighting and the dreaming it was far enough into the evening it might be better to set up camp here.

Or to not set up camp since as unpleasant as sharing a house with corpses would be they were well wrapped and still fresh and only laid out downstairs. There were still the rooms beneath the roof and those would be both safe enough to not sleep in armour and private and comfortable enough to do those things that would require a lack of armour and a supply of privacy. A tinge of colour crept into Neeshka's cheeks as Blake turned back at her and she saw the look in his eyes. But to her disappointment he closed his eyes and took a breath and his voice didn't say what his gaze had suggested.

"I can feel the spirits are still agitated by our presence," grated Blake, forcing the words out, "so we had best depart and try to reach a shelter before it gets dark."

"Agreed," Gann said, "I doubt the farmer would like us to presume on his hospitality again so soon. Though it is a shame as there was that house in which we could spend a night under a roof and in beds."

"I. Know," snarled Blake, taking another deep breath and moderating his tone at Gann's surprised expression. "And there were some other pools which were perhaps not as magical and so could have been bathed in," he added, trying to keep his voice light, "but not enough time if we are to reach a shelter as we'd need to take turns guarding."

"Ah, but would you be guarding our graceful Tiefling against enemies," Gann smiled, "or against me peeking?"

"Both," replied Blake, returning a half-smile.