It was after midnight when there came a loud rapping at her door. Kyrie dragged herself out of bed, to be confronted with one of the Keep guards. He bowed.

"Milady Captain, we apologize for the intrusion at this late hour, but we have just caught an intruder. Turns out this fellow is none other then the traitor that sabotaged the gates back at the battle with the shadows. We have him in the prison at the moment as you have ordered but he keeps insisting on speaking with you. Milady Captain, shall we have him put to death or kept here and tried in a court of Neverwinter?"

Her tired mind couldn't register what he was saying. Could he mean Bishop?

"Is he a ranger? Did he have a grey wolf with him?"

The guard shook his head. "No animal. But he is indeed a ranger, he carried a bow and quiver with him. Wouldn't shut up about you either."

"Please let me dress. Then you will take me to him immediately."

He had his back to her when she walked into the prison confines. The light was poor, only a few torches on the wall were lit, but when he turned around she saw the brightness in his amber eyes. He moved quickly to the bars, his hands gripping the metal; she could see the discomfort ebbing from him in waves. He was not one to be caged in any form.

"Kyrie...Kyrie...you are safe! I hoped you would come here. Please let me out."

She didn't move from her place by the door, suddenly unsure of her feelings, of him, of the situation both past and present. She felt her insides begin to tremble.

"You tried to walk into the Keep. You didn't stealth your way in."

"What makes you say that?"

"Bishop. If you didn't wish to be caught there is no way in the hells anyone could do so. Why did you come?"

She knew the answer before he put voice to it. His entire expression changed, and he put an arm out between the bars.

"Because I love you. Because you need me."

She moved a bit closer to him, closer to the torches, inches from his outstretched hand. She felt the trembling inside her grow stronger. Her desire to touch him, to hold him, to feel him near her growing with each heartbeat. She couldn't allow herself to indulge those feelings.

"Need you? Bishop, I am Lady of this Keep. Countless soldiers are at my command."

He withdrew his hand and stepped back, uncertainty suddenly flooding his face. He drew himself up, studying her carefully, like a hunter assessing his prey. His eyes were hooded, she could not see them to read what he was feeling. The ranger stepped close to the bars once more.

"Then look in my eyes and tell me that. Look at me and tell me you don't need me Kyrie, and I will leave this place and never return."

Kyrie's mind and her heart went to war.

Casavir is dead, every evidence supports this! This man before you is alive and loves you more then he has the words for!

Casavir is not dead! Every fibre of your being knows that! You would have known without the shadow of a doubt if he were!

If Casavir were alive, why is there no shred of proof to back it up? What about the dreams and visions of him you no longer have?

Some things are known with the heart, and need not be seen with the eyes.

What about everything you felt...and did... all that time in the woods with Bishop?

You made a vow, before Tyr! As long as I draw breath I will be at your side. If we are separated I will find you. If Tyr calls me home I will wait for you. My love for you is not subject to this body, this place. It is forever. I love you, Sir Casavir.

So are you to spend the rest of your life searching, alone and unhappy, wearing a mantle of grief that can never heal, when you have a chance right here, right now to change that fate?

Remember Casavir's words to you, the night you conceived your child. Come what may, my heart, my soul, my life will always belong to you. You know hes not dead! Do you not love him enough to find him?

Kyrie found the key and unlocked Bishop's cell door. He very nearly sprang from it, his revulsion at being caged barely contained. He was smiling at her, his beautiful amber eyes softly glowing. Her heart was beating so wildly in her chest she was sure he would hear it. His hand was on the side of her face, his head tilted slightly to kiss her when she stepped back.

"Bishop, our time together is past. Please...leave me to my life."

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Brother Ilisharan had never ridden so hard or so fast in his entire life. He didn't think himself even capable of doing what he had just done. He had expected things to go terribly wrong, that he, Yarron or the others would have been killed or captured. He was shocked at the nonchalance of the guards in what was reputed to be the worst prison in the Sword Coast. The man had not even asked who he was, or even spoke to him when he went down to the cells. In fact, the guard had been mildly drunk and was holding a conversation with a mangy looking cat. The cleric's greatest shock had been when he saw Sir Casavir.

The cell resembled a cave, rough walls and floors with dripping water, puddles, and the smell of sewage. Manacles and chains hung from the back wall, and a cold brazier stood nearby. It took all of his resolve not to weep when he saw the once stalwart paladin lying sprawled facedown on the floor, his face battered and bloody. With deep sadness he saw that the tattered remains of the man's shirt and breeches were the same ones he had worn the day they collected him from the priory outside Neverwinter.

Kneeling beside him, Brother Ilisharan spoke the gentle words of healing that would bring some measure of comfort to the knight. He stroked the dirty, bloody head, and as his pain was soothed, Casavir raised his head.

"K...y..."

"Yes, my friend. Kyrie. I know. I have come to take you home."

The paladin didn't respond for a long time, but his hand gripped the edge of the Brother's robe. Ilisharan ran his hands over the man's broken body, bringing relief to the wounds, and allowing the deepest injuries to be healed. It was sapping the Brother's strength, and he reached into his robes and drew out a small vial of glowing red liquid. Holding his breath, he swallowed its contents down with a grimace, and felt his energy return. The liquid was foul, and burned terribly on the way down, settling in his stomach like an ember. It was not safe to partake of such an elixir too often, but this was a situation that warranted it like no other.

Casavir began to stir, feeling the strength return to his limbs. He dragged himself up, sitting leaning on one arm. He tried to focus his eyes on the kind face of the Tyrrian cleric before him. Gently, Ilisharan dipped the edge of his robe in a nearby puddle and wiped the blood from the older man's eyes.

"Hello, Sir Casavir. You might not remember me, my name is Ilisharan of the Tyrrian Brotherhood. I have come to take you away from this place."

"Ky...rie."

Ilisharan looked at him closely. It was possible that the paladin's memories were no longer intact. If that were the case, may Tyr forgive him, he would have to lie to get the man to come with him. He prayed quietly, asking the good god for help with his decision. His answer came from the lips of the paladin.

"Y...you...Tyr has...sent...you..."

"Yes, that is true. Tyr has sent me to right a great wrong. Will you come with me, Sir Casavir?"

The paladin tried to rise, but was still too weak. Trying to keep it as simple as he could, he explained what they had to do to effect their escape. Casavir nodded, and lay back down on the ground, waiting.

"Guard!" Brother Ilisharan called down the darkened hallway. There was no response and he yelled again. With a stream of curses the guard appeared, weaving more with drunkenness then he had before.

"I need you to help me move the prisoner. Hes drowning in the water and I haven't the strength. Quickly now or his death will be on your head!"

The guard didn't move any quicker, but he seemed concerned at the threat. Ilisharan waited til the man bent over, and reaching an arm around the drunk man's neck, squeezed until he felt the body go limp. Oddly he felt no pity, no remorse as the guard hit the ground with a dull thud, his helmet clanking to the stones.

Moving to Casavir, Ilisharan flooded the knight's body with the last of his healing power. Casavir stood up, slowly, muscles unused to movement were stiff and unyielding. Brother Ilisharan proceeded to strip him down and switch their clothing. He was thankful the guard had a helmet, it helped disguise Casavir even better. Quickly, he brought out his knife and slashed a small wound across his own head under his hair. It bled out quickly and in abundance as head wounds do, and he smeared the blood on the guards face along with some mud and grunge from the ground. He allowed the wound to bleed freely down his face and he looked at Casavir.

"Ready my friend? May Tyr guide our steps to freedom."

The knight put an arm around the smaller Brother's shoulders and allowed the cleric to assist him. He lowered his head to appear more injured then he now was and they struggled from the cell down the darkened hallway.

Brother Ilisharan was surprised to see that the other 2 guards that were supposed to be on duty were nowhere to be seen. They stopped a moment and listened but all they heard were the moans of other prisoners.

"Lets head towards the guard house and make sure there isn't anyone there who might stop us. We can make our way to the infirmary as we planned."

They passed the guardhouse which had one guard in it, being entertained by what appeared to be a female demon of some sort. The man looked up and when he saw the cleric supporting what appeared to be a guard, he waved them away and went back to his drinking and his demon.

Ilisharan and Casavir moved as quickly as they could the last several feet towards the infirmary. When no one was spotted their either, they half walked half ran to the doorway leading to the tunnels and out into the city.

At the end of the tunnel, Brother Ilisharan stripped off his robe and the two layers of clothing that he wore. One layer he gave to Casavir and helped the still weakened knight dress. He wiped the blood off his face and Casavir's as best he could, bundled up the guard's clothing into the robe, and they stepped outside to the stairway leading up to the city. Not stopping to look at anyone or anything, Brother Ilisharan moved quickly to the city gates, dumping the bundle into a pile of trash in an alleyway they passed.

He saw one of Yarron's friends waiting with a merchant's cart and they moved to join him.

"Alright, finally!" exclaimed the man. "Ive been trying to explain to this fool here that we have to get home before that witch of a wife of yours cuts off our balls for taking too long!" He indicated the bored gate guard. The guard waved his hands towards the cart.

"What you got in there?"

"The usual cloth and dyes, some bits of pottery."

The guard made a face. "Bah, women's goods. Get ye gone from here."

They moved slowly off, repressing the urge to run at top speed.

Yarron was in the trees off the beaten road, holding two horses. He looked at Brother Ilisharan, then at Casavir.

"I hope your god absolves you of your sin, Brother. It appears that he had a hand in your good fortune today. Ride hard and don't look back, friends."

Casavir didn't say anything, his eyes were dull and lifeless, but he mounted up just the same.

Brother Ilisharan embraced Yarron quickly, giving him and his family a blessing and asking him to let Melosia know that he had succeeded.

Then he mounted and spurred his horse on as fast as the beast could run.

The small town they came to that night had no inn, but a farmer allowed them to sleep in his barn for the night. Casavir still had not spoken, and his dull, glazed eyes didn't stray more then a few feet in front of him.

"Do I know you, Brother?" he finally asked quietly as they settled into their blankets in the straw. "It feels as though I have met you before, but I do not recall the terms of that meeting. I know only that Tyr has sent you."

"I think we will need to speak long on it, Sir Casavir, but this is not the time nor the place for such a conversation. We must travel far from here. Suffice it to know that Tyr has indeed sent me."

Satisfied with that, Casavir didnt speak another word on the 30 day journey.