Tap.

Tap-tap.

Tap-tap-tap.

Quiet sounds carried around Cayla, but she had neither the energy nor the motivation to check where they were coming from. It was probably the rain outside, but it sounded so close... There were other sounds as well, shouts and clangs, probably made by people fighting, distant like echoes coming from another room, another life... Suddenly, somebody grabbed Cayla by the shoulders and shook her – not with the desire to harm her, but to wake her up.

"Are you going to stand like that all day?" someone shouted in her ear, most likely Gann, "Cast a spell, do something!" Then memories flooded her mind, making her limbs feel like soft rubber. Not her head, though – it had always felt like that.

Yes, the battle! They were fighting with the Coven when she must have been hit by something heavy on the head, because all she could remember was a sudden pain, then a dull 'thud!' most likely made by her own body hitting the ground. Looking around, she saw Kaelyn cast a spell and at the same time raise a small shield in front of her slender, but heavily-armored frame, in an attempt to protect herself as much as possible from the Coven's attacks. Behind her drifted One of Many, possibly visible only to the sorceress, moving from hag to hag, from victim to victim, sneaking behind the enemies and looking for the best chance to strike without being noticed. And then there was Gann, trying to protect her motionless body from the spells around them with what little spells he had left. Quite a selfless act, though she had no idea why was he doing it.

Unfortunately, one of the hags must've seen an easy victim in her, because she distanced herself from the crowd and started walking slowly towards the spirit eater and her temporary protector, the battle scene like a static background behind her.

Cayla was quite vulnerable at the moment, because she didn't even consider standing up and fighting back as a likely idea. Her brain was working in a different manner than most people would think possible – most of the processes inside it were frozen until someone decided to help her stir them. It was like a big diagram:

1. Think about getting up.

2. Do it.

3. Strike back, though she had no idea how to pass from step one to step two.

The hag had already finished casting the spell and all Cayla could do was...smile at her attacker. And it actually worked, because the dream-invader stopped the frantic movements of her hands and lips and stood there motionless, staring at the sorceress' body. It had worked the same way as it did at the Trial – all Cayla had to do was stand in the middle of the room and smile at the audience. She won, of course, because everyone thought that such a charming and innocent angel could not do such a vile act as harming anyone.

And then... BOOM! The air was filled with so much heat that her lungs started burning and everything turned red.

.:Are you alright, mistress?:. the voice of her pet dispersed itself inside her head.

'Yeah...I think. What happened?'

.: Hellball. Your slave, the shaman, got so panicked that he cast it without thinking about the consequences:.

'Oh...okay then.'

.:Stand still, the cleric is coming to heal you. You might as well lie back and enjoy the scenery of the dozens of bodies next to you. Can't you just smell the blood, the carnage floating in the air?:.

'Yes, and I hope that I can get it off my clothes when we're out of here. I'll probably have to wash them twice.'

.:So you don't enjoy the gore so much, do you:.

'Nah, I like it, but I also happen to like clean clothes.'

Turning her head to the other side, she could see Kaelyn's armored feet near her face. Cayla wasn't very badly injured (aside from the burning lungs, the taste of ash in her mouth and the slight headache) but she still forgot to consider the option of getting up.

Then there was light, the taste of ash ceased to be and someone dragged the sorceress to her feet. About time that happened.

------------------------

The Many have had enough with their new Mistress. Most of them liked her – she gave them freedom to be the evil bastards that they were in life and by doing so she helped them fuel the hate that the Many always felt. And the hate grew stronger and stronger, consuming the souls inside. So they hated her, because that's what they were supposed to feel – the undead can't have feelings like love, because things like that are restricted to the living.

But then again, Malvor the demonspawn hated her guts and he had a reason. The sorceress was always changing, going with the flow and taking whatever life gave her even though she had such potential to become a leader. She needed only one smile to charm armies to fight by her side, she needed only one sway of her body to make empires kneel at her feet and she never realized it. But most of all, she was forgetting who she was, who she was supposed to be and that's what he could never forgive her for. He had to admit that he wasn't like most of the Many – he'd kept memories of his past life, memories of happiness and joy in order to remain the same and not be consumed by the mutual hate the souls around him felt. Because passionate hate clouded one's judgment and when he was alive he couldn't afford that.

The problem is that he, like the rest of the Many, was sane only when he wasn't the one in control of the undead construct. When merging with the undeath, he had no other option than to be whatever he was supposed to be, and Malvor was supposed to be a part of a vengeance machine. The Many gave him strength, they gave him the power and the hate needed to avenge them for what they were in life and what society had done to them. So he forgot about who he wanted to be and did what that mindless girl expected from him to do.

Suddenly... his train of thoughts stopped.

'One, are you there?'

.:No.:.

'Are you lying to me?'

.:No.:.

'Alright then. I just want you to know that we're going to the Wells of Lurue tomorrow. Have fun!'

And with that Cayla strode away. Sometimes he didn't know if she was just plain stupid or pretending to be like that. He sighed... one day he would pay her back for all of this. He'd pay them all back! With a smile like that on his face he could sell ice cubes to the berserkers in Ashenwood. Too bad they were already dead.

------------------

The Wells weren't so bad once you get accustomed to the elementals popping out of thin air every ten seconds. It was quite fun, just like an amusement park but with more dead bodies and insane creatures that wanted to take her gift away, a.k.a. kill her. And the durthans were a nice company, except that their main priorities were having tea parties and hunting spirit eaters. So when she approached them, they didn't recognize her at all – they were too busy drinking tea with biscuits.

"And so I totally told him: I'd rather go out on a date with a telthor berserker than with you! Gag me with a pitchfork!" Said one of them, dramatically waving her hands in the air.

"Nu-uh! As if I'd believe you! Like, there's no way you could decline Mephasm's offer!" Another replied, having a shocked expression on her face, frantically sipping on her tea.

"Ya-uh!" answered the first. "Dontcha, like, believe me?"

"Like, chill ya two, don't have a cow!"

"Cha...whatever!"

"Gals, it seems thet we haf visito's!" interrupted a dwarven lass, apparently not exactly fitting in the small group. The others stood up, probably preparing spells to cast.

"Oh...um...hi. Nice weather isn't it?" interrupted Cayla, who was currently standing between two bushes behind the girls. It wasn't the best hiding spot she could've chosen, but here in the Wells they had no big trees one can climb on and they didn't even have giant rocks one could conveniently hide behind while eavesdropping. No wonder they got panicked, one couldn't spot a normal sized person sitting behind two cat-sized bushes without getting the feeling that something's definitely wrong.

"Who is yo'?" asked the dwarf with the weird accent. Now that the sorceress got a closer look on...it, she wasn't so sure it was female at all. Maybe because of the beard. But because the lawn ornament(.:Racist!:.) was in a female-only company, it must've been female.
"Err...I'm Cayla. Cayla Meyer. And you are?" She waved a hand in the air, trying to act all friendly. Hopefully, soon the others will find her and get her out of this mess.

"Gag me with a SPOOOON! It's thuh spirit eater! Oh, wow!" almost shrieked one of them, covering her cheeks in her palms.

"Oh my gosh! We're, like, your biggest fans!"

"You are?" Well, that was...confusing.

"Sit here," one of them said and brought a three-legged chair near the large fire. Cayla sat, feeling awkward and trying to stare blankly at the marks and runes on the dusty ground, but when they pushed a tea cup in her hands all of her attempts failed miserably.

"And...um...what are you?"

"We're, like, a society of highly emotional depressed teenager who seek a way out of their miserable lives by makin' infernal bargains with demons and devils. This here is Marinnah, this here is Galathaena, this here is Emotionalia and this here" she pointed at the dwarf, "is Bob. Bob's a little bit shy, but when you get to know her she'll grow on you fast!"

"Um...that's nice, but aren't you supposed to...cut yourself?"

"Nah! That is soooo last week! Us gals are thuh future!"

"I...see."

"So you're our newest friend now, like, wow, Cayla! Gag me with a handfork!"

"Well...alright. So we're all going to be frien..." She couldn't finish as her eyes concentrated on a ghostly shadow that drifted along the rocky road, making dust fly above the ground.

The shadow, possibly One of Many, ended up in the magical circle of runes drawn across the ground, swirling his tentacles in the air, trying to free the space near Cayla and to push all of the witches in one place.

'What are you doing, One?'

.: If the pretty songbird does as she's commanded, she will cast a spell to wound all of your enemies at the same time. And currently, you are too close to them! Do you want to get hurt?:. Her pet sounded angry...angrier than usual.

'But why are you attacking them?'

.:Do you have a brain at all? Wait, don't answer that. They are evil spellcasters who want only to benefit themselves even if that means attacking random people!:.

'So...they're like us?'

She couldn't get her answer because a flash of light blinded her before she could do something to cover her eyes. And in a second, everyone around her was dead, lying in various shapes on the dusty dead-end gorge.

"What did I tell we about wandering off without telling us?" asked a petulant Gannayev next to her.

"And what did Itell you about ever talking to me again?" she snarled at him, pointing the sharp edge of her sword in front of his face.

"Uh...nevermindpretendimnothere!" he squeaked, trying to look as small and vulnerable as possible.

.:We have found the tribe we were looking for in the first place. They're several kilometers northeast from here, if we hurry we can get there before sunset.:.

'So...while I was wandering around here you were searching for the tribe and not for me?'

.:Some things come before other things. And you always seem to get lost so there was a chance you were already there or already dead.:.

'How nice of you. I love you too.' The Many had no idea if she was being honest or ironic.

"So, off to the tribe of mysterious people we go!" said Gann, pretending to sound cheerful while hiding behind the Dove.

And then they walked...and walked...and then walked some more. Most of the time for adventuring is spent walking.