By the time Garth emerged from his study, night had fallen and his anger had simmered down. Now he was left with a dizzying nausea in the pit of his stomach that grew stronger every time he thought of his conversation with Sparrow.

He didn't know why he was sickened anymore. At first he'd thought it was because of Reaver and Oakvale, but now he'd had time to think on it. Sparrow had been very quick to add that Reaver hadn't known that it would happen. Garth had woken a handful of times to find Reaver unnaturally still in the bed beside him, brow furrowed and jaw clenched. It only ever took a light touch from Garth to wake him, and then he would never say what was bothering him. Garth knew now.

Perhaps what was making the bile rise in Garth's mouth was how and whySparrow had chosen to tell him about it. It was as though Sparrow had kept the information as a trump card, in case he ever needed to turn Garth against Reaver. Well, it hadn't worked. It would never work. Garth refused to give Sparrow that satisfaction.

You're not in love with him, are you?

Garth wasn't sure. Regardless, it was none of Sparrow's business. He was sick of the nastiness that existed between his three fellow Heroes. Once he sorted out his feelings for Reaver, he would keep them to himself.

He found Reaver in the sitting room, blissfully unaware of Garth's newly acquired knowledge. Garth had resolved to ask him about it, to see how Reaver would react, but the Thief looked so relaxed that Garth almost hated to disturb him. Reaver rarely ever truly relaxed.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had died down there," Reaver commented, stretching in his seat languidly. Garth sat in the armchair across from him and shook his head.

"Hardly. I had an interesting conversation with Sparrow today. It's left me feeling ill."

"Is that so?" Reaver raised an eyebrow and straightened in his seat; a sure sign he was anxious. He trusted Sparrow so little that Garth wasn't surprised by the reaction. "Well, talking to Sparrow does tend to nauseate me, too. What did he have to say for himself?"

"He told me about Oakvale." Garth said it quickly, before he lost his boldness.

Reaver's shoulders tensed, but he otherwise showed no reaction. "He did, did he? And that's made you feel ill?" he said calmly, though there was a faint note of anxiety in his voice.

"Yes, though it's not what you think," Garth replied truthfully. "Actually, I'm not sure myself."

"Then I must have imagined that look of contempt you gave me before." Reaver said plainly, and Garth blinked. "Why are you surprised? You must have been angry when you found out. Angry, or shocked, or whatever, I don't know. I've seen an array of reactions over the years."

"Others have found out?" Garth asked, surprised.

"A handful or two. The only difference between you and them is that I haven't shot you yet. Well, you and Sparrow, anyway." Reaver looked past Garth and into space now, his lips curling into a snarl. "Though I'm considering rectifying the latter." He stood, his hand curling around his pistol.

"Settle down." Garth stood up too, keeping his voice calm in spite of his alarm. "Sparrow will kill you."

"Only if I don't get him first. I'm quicker on the draw, after all."

"And that will save you from his Will?"

Reaver growled but said nothing. Garth dared to push further.

"And why Sparrow and not I, as well? I know about it now, too." he asked softly. Reaver blinked down at him, looking genuinely surprised.

"Why would I shoot you?" he asked blankly, his angry expression vanishing as he considered Garth. "I hate Sparrow. I don't hate you."

The statement, and the affection with which it was said, was so unexpected that Garth could only stare at him, his cheeks feeling as though they were on fire. Reaver considered him for a moment longer, before a look of understanding dawned on his face. He chuckled mirthlessly.

"Ah, I see now." he said cryptically. "You should know better than to look at me like that, Mage."

"Like what?" Garth asked, puzzled. Reaver ignored him.

"Did you get what you came for?" he asked instead, his voice void of emotion.

Frustration rose up inside of Garth, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to sock Reaver in the jaw. Instead he kept his cool, reminding himself that he knew what Reaver was like, expressing thoughts that went unfinished and beginning conversations that seemed to have no link to the previous one. So Garth chose to ignore Reaver's strange actions, at least for the moment, and instead linked his last question to their discussion.

"I don't know." he admitted plainly. He maintained eye contact evenly, the question he so wanted to ask on the lip of his tongue. He knew this would invoke Reaver's temper. "Do you care about what you did?"

Reaver's eyes narrowed and he took a step back - not a good sign. When he gaze went from Garth to the roof permanently, Garth knew he had lost.

"It was a long time ago," Reaver replied snappishly. He tossed his head, his air of dignified self-importance returning to him as he frowned distastefully, like he was talking to some beggar off the street. It was an act, this aura of belittlement, to keep others from prying into his life too closely. It was Reaver's own invisible wall.

"The place is long gone," Reaver added shortly. "It hardly matters anymore."

"It that what you really think?" Garth was sick of tiptoeing around Reaver's temper. He wanted Reaver to admit, just once, that it still bothered him. But, judging by the way Reaver clenched his jaw and the way his hand moved subconsciously to his gun, it wasn't going to happen tonight.

"It is." Reaver's tone was biting, he had never sounded so angry. Garth forced himself to smile and point to where Reaver's fingers were curled around his gun. Reaver glanced down, surprise flashing across his handsome features.

"Perhaps you do want to kill me after all," Garth said quietly, and without waiting for an answer he turned on his heel and quickly made his way to the front door, suddenly craving some fresh air and open space. After a moment, he heard Reaver's angry shout.

"I am not done with you, Mage!"

Garth had no idea where he was going, only that he wanted to get away from the charming scoundrel that was tailing him. Grateful for the cool night air, he rounded the house and made his way to the back of the yard, near to where the tree he had destroyed with Elisabeth once resided. Only then did Reaver catch up with him.

He seized Garth by the arms and spun him around so that they were face-to-face. "I decide when we're done," he growled. He clutched Garth's shoulders to prevent him from running off again. Garth scowled.

"Don't throw a tantrum because you're not getting your own way." he said coldly. He knew he should consider himself lucky; usually, when Reaver lost his temper, people died. But he certainly didn't feel lucky. "Now leave me alone."

"You mock my maturity and then you go and say something like that?" Reaver's fingers dug into his shoulders. "Hypocrisy, Mage. Learn the meaning."

Garth held back a hiss of pain and Reaver's fingers bruised him. "I know the meaning. Not nearly as well as you do, of course."

"You are quickly rising to the top of my 'fire gun at repeatedly' list." Reaver snapped, and Garth very nearly laughed. He didn't put it past Reaver to have actually compiled a list like that. He imagined Reaver sitting at his desk, placing every one he knew under one of three categories-

"Now you're smiling?" Reaver looked completely bewildered. "I will never understand you, Mage. You're worse than most women. But humour me for a moment, and think about this-" He leaned in close, so that their noses were almost touching. "If I hadn't made that little deal with the Shadow Court, I wouldn't be here today. You would still be in Lucien's hands, and the whole blasted world would be shot to shit."

Shot to shit. Garth blinked. So Reaver's anger was, at least in part, born of frustration. That was when he swore the most, after all.

"So think about that," Reaver continued. "And let me know your conclusions, hmm?"

Put that way, it did seem like a small sacrifice: one town for the entire world. Garth sighed heavily. He'd had enough of this whole thing.

"I will," he promised with a growl. "If you would just leave me alone for five minutes."

"Oh, we're back to this, are we?" Reaver scoffed. "No, Mage, I won't. You kept pushing even though you knew I wanted you to stop, so why should I back off now?" Garth had forgotten how petty he could be. "Tell me, what on earth were you hoping to achieve by confronting me about this?"

"I was hoping," Garth growled, finally losing his temper, "that I would stop wishing I had stayed in Samarkand. Now get off me!" With a growl, he threw Reaver off him with a Force Push spell. Reaver stumbled backwards - straight into the hands of a Spire Soldier.

Garth froze, fighting down the disgusting taste rising in his mouth as Reaver's hands were wrenched behind his back and a blade was pressed to his throat. The Soldier turned its demonic eyes to Garth. With Reaver in its vice grip, Garth couldn't risk attacking it. It clearly knew that.

"Where-" Garth stopped mid question and turned his attention skyward. High above their heads floated a Shard, a dark silhouette against the clear night sky. Garth stared at it in dull horror. He had thought that their ability to control Shards had died with Lucien. He hoped reverently that Reaver wouldn't pay for his mistake.

"Do you mind? We are trying to have an argument. Eavesdropper." Miraculously, Reaver was managing to look bored. He glanced over his shoulder at his captor and huffed indignantly. "Sneaking up on us when we're absorbed in each other - not very sporting of you, I must say. At least you didn't interrupt one of our more intimate moments, I suppose. That would have been awkward."

Well, Reaver was keeping his cool easily enough. Garth decided to try and follow his lead. "So is the conversation over now?" he asked shakily, giving Reaver a weak grin.

"On hiatus, I think." Reaver replied casually. The blade was pressed harder against his neck. "That hurts, you know." he complained loudly.

"You are coming with me," the Soldier said to Garth, ignoring its captive completely. Its inhuman voice sent shivers down Garth's spine. "Or I will take him, and return him to you in pieces."

"Oh, can my nose be the first piece?" Reaver chipped in, sounding completely at ease. "You smell awful."

Reaver, there is a time and a place to be a smart arse, and this isn't it. Garth thought furiously. He could remember the Soldier's tolerance - or lack thereof - of rudeness. Reaver was making things worse.

"Need I cut out his tongue here as incentive?" the Soldier said impatiently. "Choose!"

Garth eyed the blade at Reaver's neck. It had already broken a layer of skin; little droplets of blood were running down his neck. Garth couldn't attack without it slitting Reaver's throat first. He couldn't let them take Reaver. But he knew he couldn't face being a captive of the Spire Guards again. It was bad enough last time, who knew what they were planning to do to him now in the name of their fallen master?

"Don't be ridiculous," Reaver said lightly to the Soldier. "The Mage is far too intelligent to respond to blackmail like that." He shot Garth an emphatic look to drive his hidden warning home, and just like that, Garth knew. He was in love with the Thief.

He shook his head, trembling. What a poor time to realise this. It was as twisted as their relationship itself. He met the Soldier's gaze evenly.

"You're after me, whether you get me now or later." he said calmly. "So, let's just cut out the middle man, shall we? I'll go with you now." He took a step forward.

"Good." the Soldier sounded satisfied. Reaver blinked at Garth once before sagging forward in its grasp.

"You are such a foolish man, Garth." he said quietly, and Garth's heart twisted. "I suppose we work well together." With that, he threw his head back. It connected with the Soldier's with a loud crack.

The Soldier grunted in pain, stumbling backwards, its grasp on Reaver loosening. In an instant Reaver had drawn his pistol and reeled around, shooting it in between the eyes.

"Get the bloody thing, you fool!" he shot at Garth, gesturing upwards with his gun. His eyes were unfocused; head butting the Soldier had dazed him. "Like you did last time!"

Garth summoned his resolve and used the most powerful Lightning spell he knew. He had to destroy the Shard quickly, before it sent more Guards. His body was straining with the effort when the Shard opened, revealing its core.

Reaver fired at it furiously, but when a group of Spire Guards materialised in front of them, he was forced to turn his attention elsewhere. "Stupid blighters," he spat furiously. "There is no end to these so-called men, is there?"

Would Reaver be able to hold them all off on his own? Garth doubted it. Reaver stood very close to Garth as he picked them off, one by one. But where one fell, two would take its place, and they were closing in on the two Heroes, fast.

"Feel free to destroy the glorified pebble at any moment," Reaver muttered to Garth.

"I'm trying!" Garth replied desperately. His body was screaming its protests now, he wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. They were in trouble.

"Garth!"

Garth had never been happier to hear Hammer's voice. He didn't dare chance a look over his shoulder, but he grinned with savage relief as Hammer roared "Charge!"

Monks and Albion Guards alike surged past Garth and clashed with the Spire Guards. He could hear Reaver and Hammer shouting impatiently at each other even as they fought on the same side. From the corner of his eye he saw Keiran, grinning viciously as he waved his sword about like a madman, cutting the Spire Guards down with no clear technique. Someone stepped into place beside him and he recognised Elisabeth's normally soft voice, shouting over the noise.

"I'll help you." She used her Shock spell on the Shard. Keiran noticed what she was doing and bent over, firing his own Shock spell from in between his legs.

"Suck on it!" he yelled triumphantly when it connected, and Garth heard Reaver's disapproving scoff from somewhere to the left of him.

"Children these days. How vulgar!"

A thin beam of light began to rise slowly from the Shard's centre. It grew larger and larger, until-

"Shit, it's firing!" Garth realised, just as Hammer shouted "Get out of the way!"

Garth seized Elisabeth and pulled her back quickly, trying to get her out of harm's way. She stumbled, looking confused, and then the world exploded with light as the attack connected with the earth. Garth was thrown off his feet and the wind knocked out of him as the attack drowned out the terrified screams of his allies.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Garth jumped to his feet, ready to attack again even as he struggled to draw breath. But all he saw were Oakfield's fighters, some injured, some in the same state as he was, sprawled out across the ruined lawn. The only Spire Guards in sight were dead. The Shard had vanished.

Something was wrong here. Garth couldn't shake off the sense of foreboding. There was a soft groan behind him, and he quickly hurried over to Elisabeth's side as she struggled to sit up.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I… Yes. I'm winded and I think my wrist is sprained, but I'll be fine." she replied breathlessly. Garth helped her to her feet. "Is it over?"

"I don't know," Garth replied cautiously. "Be on your guard." He quickly spotted Hammer climbing to her feet, and he wound his way through the others carefully to her. Many of them were injured, and some were critical from the Shard's last attack. But the fight did seem to be over.

"What the hell just happened?" Hammer groaned. "They come, they blow us up, and they run off? I don't mind telling you, I'm a bit confused here." She scanned the area, eyes narrowed. "Move the injured into Reaver's place and call the doctors." she ordered loudly. All those still able-bodied moved slowly to do as she said.

Elisabeth uttered a small cry, and Garth turned around to see her hurrying over to her brother's side. Keiran seemed to be having difficulty moving. She gingerly shifted him onto his back. He grinned weakly.

"Fuckin' thing got me." he said. "Chuck a couple of stitches in my side and I'll be right. Coupla wenches wouldn't go amiss either."

Elisabeth made a strangled noise, caught between a laugh and a sob, and she helped Keiran sit up. He looked around at the site.

"Damn," he muttered. He looked up at Garth and held his gaze. "Where's Reaver, Garth?" he asked pointedly, his voice ragged.

His question sent a chill down Garth's spine. Hammer, who had been comforting an injured monk, gave him an alarmed look.

"He didn't object when I said to use his house," she muttered uneasily. "You don't think-"

"Shit." Garth searched through the bodies, alive and dead, frantically, but there was no sign of Reaver. He was gone. "They took him. They said they would." An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over him, and he fought down panic for Reaver's safety.

"Aren't you meant to look after him?" Keiran asked sharply.

"Keiran!" Elisabeth tried to shush her brother.

"Well, ain't he? It's him they want anyway." Keiran scowled deeply. "So why doesn't he fuck off somewhere? Leave Reaver outta this?"

"They want Father too, you sod. Should he 'fuck off somewhere' as well?" Elisabeth hissed. "Master Garth isn't Master Reaver's keeper."

"Listen to you! 'Master'. You fucking-"

"Be quiet, the both of you." Garth snapped. He didn't need to listen to a sibling quarrel, and he certainly didn't need to be guilt-tripped by a self-righteous adolescent. The siblings fell quiet, surprised by his outburst. He turned back to Hammer.

"So, tell me," Hammer muttered. She looked stressed, accentuating the lines on her comely face. "They attack you two. We arrive. The Shard blows us all up. They nab Reaver in the confusion. Have I got that right?"

"Just about," Garth replied dryly. If they were treating Reaver even half as badly as they had treated Garth, he would murder them all. Slowly. Provided Reaver didn't get to them first, of course. He wondered if Reaver was worried, or whether he was simply planning the way he would butcher his captives before returning home. The latter seemed more likely. Danger tended not to faze Reaver.

"So why not grab you?" Hammer asked shortly. Garth rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

"You said it yourself; they got him in the confusion. They were in a hurry, and they must have found Reaver first." He sighed heavily. "They could have waited until the Shard attacked again, I suppose. But it takes time for the Shard to build up enough energy to attack like that. Time they didn't have, because I was trying to destroy it."

Hammer hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly reached out and squeezed Garth's shoulder. "It's not your fault." she said quietly, and smiled. "No matter what Sparrow's brat says."

"I'm right here, Hammer-face!" Keiran protested, though he sounded amused. Garth chuckled in spite of himself.

A terrified scream split the air. Weapons were instantly drawn and the severely injured carried roughly to safety. But it was a monk that had made the sound. She was pointing at the ground, her hand shaking, her other hand over her mouth. Hammer frowned and went over to her.

"What are you-"

"That mask!" the monk cried hysterically. "Look what it is!"

Curiosity turned to panic as Oakfield natives scrambled to have a look at the object. Frightened sobs and alarmed shouts permeated the air, and above them Hammer's annoyed voice rose.

"For crying out loud, you're not a bunch of bloody damsels!" She picked up the object in question and glared around. "I know you're disturbed, but I've taught you better than this." The panic died down slowly, and Hammer held the object out for Garth to see.

Garth blinked at it. It was just a red mask, with jagged edges and narrow slits for eyes. The only remarkable thing about it was the gigantic hooked nose. It was ugly, but… He looked at Hammer questioningly.

"Ah, right. You wouldn't know it." she realised apologetically. "It's an old Temple of Shadows mask. What's it doing here?"

Garth forced himself not to look at it; he couldn't quite get over how repulsive it was. Apparently worshipping the Shadows required one to be as ugly as sin.

He paused, realising how very Reaver he was being. The man was such an influence that his name was now also a verb. Garth couldn't think of any other way to describe it.

But back to the task at hand. "Sparrow butchered every Temple of Shadows follower upon his return from the Spire," he said to Hammer, who nodded impatiently. "You have three guesses what that mask being here means."

Hammer frowned thoughtfully. She looked at Keiran, who shrugged, and then at Elisabeth. The girl gnawed her lip.

"The place is abandoned, Hammer," she said softly. Hammer's eyes widened and she looked wildly at Garth.

"So they're there now?" she exclaimed. "Of course! Why didn't we bloody think of that in the first place? Even bandits stay away from that place, so no one would've noticed them!"

Garth nodded, and she snarled and flung the mask to the ground in disgust. "They leave this here as a clue, and take Reaver as bait? They can't honestly be expecting you to take it!" She caught sight of Garth's expression, and faltered. "Oh, no. You can't honestly be planning to take it!"

"I'm not leaving him there." Garth said shortly. "They said they would send him back to me in pieces. I've no doubt that they will actually do it if I take too long getting there."

"Would you like me to wrap you up in a pretty red ribbon for them, too?" Hammer snapped. "You're being completely mental. I seriously don't get you sometimes."

"So you do expect me to leave him there?" Garth asked quietly. Hammer sighed heavily.

"Once, I would have. Now? No. And that's what I don't get." She tugged on the ends of her dreadlocks absently, the way she always did when she was worried. "Well, there's no way in hell I'm letting you go there by yourself. Two hands are better than one, right?" She flashed a grin, one that Garth couldn't help but return.

"Thank you, Hammer."

"Aunty Hammer," Keiran interrupted suddenly. Hammer actually twitched.

"Don't call me that, you little hell raiser! You know it makes me feel so old!"

"Yeah, I do know, don't I," Keiran replied absently. "But anyway, isn't this old Temple in Rookridge? Dad would've passed it on his way home this afternoon."

"What if they got him?" Elisabeth gasped. "They could kill him!" Keiran gave her an alarmed look.

"Calm down," Hammer said patiently. "If your father is there, then he'll just be another pair of hands to help us escape. He's been in tighter spots before, you know."

"It's true!" Keiran actually smiled up at his sister and patted her leg comfortingly. "And he lives with Mum and survives, after all. Nothing's tougher than that. He'll be all right, Lis."

Elisabeth relaxed slightly, and nodded.

"Good. Now help me inside, I think my legs have been turned into jelly." Keiran ordered. He looked pale, Garth suddenly noticed. "Garth-face, off with you. Go save your butt-buddy!"

"Garth-face?" Garth echoed, bewildered. "Butt… what?"

"Ignore him, he calls everyone 'face'." Elisabeth said apologetically, her cheeks pink.

"Shut up, girl-face."

"Gimmie half an hour to sort this shit out a little," Hammer said to Garth diffidently. Garth nodded, knowing it was needed. "We can be off then."

**

"How do you think he's handling it?" Hammer asked quietly.

Rookridge was a thirteen hour journey on foot from Oakfield. Garth and Hammer had quickly decided that taking a carriage would draw attention, and needlessly endanger the driver. They were exhausted and they jumped at every shadow, but they didn't light a torch. The night cloaked them as much as it cloaked enemies.

Hammer had left Elisabeth in charge. Garth had his doubts as to whether a girl her age could handle that responsibility, but he kept them to himself and trusted in Hammer's judgement. Arguing about it would have prolonged their departure.

"Honestly? I doubt he's too worried." Garth replied, with more confidence than he felt. "I don't think he's scared of anything."

"Nah, I guess you're right." Hammer said. "He's a cocky one, that Reaver. But you're worried, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question, and when Garth didn't answer, she clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly. "He's two hundred years old, Garth. He won't be easy to break after that long."

"Almost 250," Garth corrected automatically.

"What?" Hammer blinked.

Garth flushed, realising what he had said. "He's far closer to 250 years," he muttered. Hammer looked taken aback for a moment longer, then to Garth's surprise, she giggled.

"That's actually kind of cute." she said. Garth stared at her blankly, but she didn't elaborate further.

Dawn approached and passed, and Garth estimated that they would reach Rookridge by midday. Something about the sunrise soothed him, made him realise that the Spire Guards wouldn't kill Reaver until they had dealt with Garth. If they used Reaver as a human shield, Garth would hold back for fear of hurting him. If he was dead, Garth would unleash his full power. It was as simple as that.

Hammer grew more and more nervous as they neared the old Temple of Shadows, Garth could tell; she was getting chattier. She would comment on anything, from rock formations to her hair, and though Garth was annoyed, he let her. It was her way of coping, after all.

"How come you're always wearing that thing, anyway?" Hammer asked, pointing to his monocle. "I've never seen you without it."

Garth realised she was right. He had obtained it shortly after he returned from the Spire, and more recently, Reaver had disallowed anyone from entering his room, which was when he would have it off. Unless Sparrow had told her, Hammer wouldn't know…

"I'm blind in that eye." he replied shortly.

"Ah." Hammer wrung her hands, looking awkward. "Were you born like that, or-"

"No. It was the result of an… accident."

"Oh, okay. For what it's worth, I'm sorry." And with that, Garth realised he was incredibly grateful for her company.

The vast bridge that led to the former Temple of Shadows was empty, with no sign of life anywhere. The enormous wrought iron gates were closed, preventing entrance. Garth and Hammer hid behind one of Rookridge's many rock formations, eyeing it tentatively.

"Why aren't they guarding the gate?" Hammer whispered anxiously. Garth shook his head.

"They are, they're just out of sight." he replied. The walls that surrounded the Temple were enormous, it was unlikely that anyone would be able to scale them. The Guards needed to concern themselves with the gates, and that was it.

"Then they could already know we're here!" Hammer hissed, unconsciously touching the handle of her warhammer.

"No. They would have attacked already if they did." Garth massaged his forehead, willing his tiredness to go away. "I am what they want, and they seem to be growing more and more desperate. They would not risk losing me."

"You're sure about that?" Hammer sounded doubtful. Garth smiled grimly.

"I know how they think."

"They took you by surprise back home." Hammer pointed out.

"I didn't think they could still control Shards," Garth admitted, feeling his frustration with himself rise again. "I won't make another mistake like that."

"If you're sure," Hammer muttered, and Garth found he couldn't fault her for her doubt. She peered around the rock again and bit her lip. "So… how do we get inside?" she asked.

Garth had been thinking about this. His plan was risky, but he was sure it would work. He scanned Hammer over once, to strengthen his resolve.

Hammer noticed his attention and flushed. "Yeah, no. Quit it." she hissed.

Garth chuckled in spite of himself. "You misunderstand me," he said quickly. "You could pass off as a Spire Guard, possibly."

Hammer blinked. She looked from Garth, to the building, then back to Garth, and frowned. "That's your plan, is it?" she said, catching on. "I probably could, but I don't have a uniform."

"No matter. That can easily be amended." Garth replied, and before Hammer could stop him he lobbed a Fireball along the bridge. It crashed into the doors with a bang.

"Now, we wait." he said simply. Hammer stared at him, mouth agape.

"I could really kill you right now, you know. Oh bugger! They're coming now!"

"Come back further behind the rock." Garth hissed and tugged her backwards. "How many are there?"

"Half a dozen, I think. Here we go again!" Hammer hauled her giant weapon from its sling.

The were only five Guards, it turned out. The rounded the rock, weapons raised, and paused momentarily when they saw Hammer, eyes widened. Garth grinned, knowing that they hadn't expected her to be there too. The pause was short, but it was enough time to give Hammer the chance to stun them with her warhammer. Garth summoned his Blades and skewered them, and they fell one by one with a muffled grunt.

"Well, that was quick." Hammer said, taken aback. She grinned at Garth triumphantly. "You knew that would happen, you old bastard! So now what?"

Garth chuckled at her accusation before measuring each Guard up. He pointed out the largest one. "Take that uniform." he instructed.

Hammer gave him a wild look before shifting on the spot. "Could… I can't." she admitted hesitantly. "I don't… It's still a dead man."

Garth stared at her. "These ghouls gave up their right to be called 'men'," he spat venomously, and cursed himself when she flinched.

"I'm sorry, I just…" she bit her lip. Garth had never seen her look so vulnerable. He held up his hand, silencing her.

"I'll get it off for you." he said. He had no qualms with looting a dead Guard's body and, as it turned out, Hammer had none with changing right there in front of him. The uniform didn't fit all that well, but it was enough.

"My hair doesn't fit under the mask," she muttered fearfully. Garth shook his head.

"Don't worry. They won't notice if they don't look for it." he said, and grinned. "Unless you're prepared to shave it all off."

"Shut it." Hammer scowled. "I'd forgotten how much you annoyed me."

Garth chuckled and using the smallest Flame spell he could, he slowly burnt a hole through the collar around the dead Guard's neck. He placed it around Hammer's and fastened it securely, so that it wouldn't fall off or look amiss. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"So do you reckon I could make a career out of this?" Hammer joked weakly. "Oh god, Garth, I'm wearing a dead man's clothing."

"It's all right," Garth soothed awkwardly. "As for the career… You probably shouldn't quit your day job, just in case." Hammer laughed softly, relaxing a little. "Now, here's what you need to do…"

When they approached the gates, Hammer was all but dragging Garth with her. She held his hands behind his back and he sagged in her grasp, as though he was injured. As the gates opened, he heard Hammer take a shuddering breath to steel herself. They entered what turned out to be a courtyard, where a dozen or so Guards stood watch. Garth chanced a glance around - he hadn't known the Temple of Shadows was underground, though it made sense.

One of the Guards stepped forward, his eyes gleaming cruelly as he sneered at Garth. "He came runnin' for 'is friend quick. Even quicker than Sparrow's been." it commented. Hammer only nodded, and Garth looked up at the Guard with genuine hatred. It scoffed.

"Where's the others?" it asked shortly.

"Dead," Hammer grunted, and Garth marvelled at how well she was able to disguise her voice. The mask probably helped. "Bodies fell down the cliff."

"I see." the Guard said, and without warning he delivered a swift blow to Garth's stomach. Garth cried out in pain and went limp in Hammer's grasp, gasping desperately for air. Hammer was able to remain blessedly silent, though Garth felt her grip on him tighten.

The Guard wrenched Garth's head back by his hair, and sneered down at him. "Not so tough now, are ya?" it mocked. "Be grateful we were kind enough to let yer friend live to see ya one last time."

"You're sick, mindless freaks," Garth hissed breathlessly. He tasted blood as the Guard backhanded him, and he reminded himself that sometimes, he just needed to shut the fuck up.

"Take 'im down the back," the Guard ordered gruffly, and Hammer carried him down the steps and into the former Temple of Shadows.

There was no one in sight at the underground entrance, and so Hammer placed Garth down gently and pulled the mask down from her mouth. Garth sank to his knees, gasping for breath and spitting out blood.

"Garth, I'm so sorry," Hammer was whispering. She knelt down beside him, looking distraught. "He moved too quick! I would've stopped him if I'd known-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Hammer. It wasn't your fault." Garth replied shortly. He forced himself to grin at her. "I was prepared for something like that. I've had worse, don't worry. I'll be fine."

"You could have warned me!" she hissed, still looking distressed. She stood and held out her hand to help Garth up. "Well, we're in." she whispered, slightly fearful.

Garth nodded, allowing her to grasp his hand a little tighter than what was needed. He stared down the torch-lit corridor with an overwhelming sense of dread.