The ghost of a serious woman had materialised on top of the stone.

"Beloved Batzorig..." she said. "Take great care, my child. Sarantsatsral plots your death."


A chill went through the air as Tammy stiffened and turned back towards the grave. Cristine knew what had happened. "Oh dear," she sighed quietly. "She sees something again."

Nick touched her hand reassuringly. "Well, let's see what she can see, then," he murmured back, and smiled a little.

Cristine smiled, too, and she and Nick turned to watch Tammy and Erik respond to something that wasn't there.

"Death?" Tammy breathed. "You mean...Sarantsatsral's trying to kill him!?"

"What?" Cristine asked.

Erik nodded, but Cristine didn't think it was an answer to her question. She sighed. "I don't like this...I don't like it at all."

"Me neither," Nick whispered. "Tammy - what's going on?"

Tammy glanced back at them. "There's a ghost on the grave - Batzorig's mum. She says...she says that Sarantsatsral's planning to kill Batzorig." She looked back towards the grave. "I'll tell you if she says anything else important."

Nick and Cristine looked at each other. Cristine bit her lip. "I suppose everyone was right," she said quietly. "Not to be trusted, indeed..."

They were quiet for a moment. Erik and Tammy were listening attentively to something, and Cristine was straining her ears, too. When she did, she managed to make out a faint whispering in the air. She couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was saying, though.

Nick was fiddling with his rosary. Cristine knew he didn't realise he was doing it. She smiled and put a hand over his to stop it moving.

"You'll rub all the carvings off," she whispered. "Let it be."

When she took her hand away, he dropped his from the beads. Cristine grasped it.

Finally, the ghost seemed to have finished. Erik turned and said, "Come - we must get to Mount Ulzuun quickly."

Tammy, Nick, and Cristine followed after him.

"So can you tell us why we're going to Mount Ulzuun?" Nick asked. "Unless this is just Erik being Erik again."

Tammy rolled her eyes. "Well, it is," she said, "but that's not why we're going. Bayarmaa - the ghost - she said that there's a village in Mount Ulzuun that has this special grass. Bodura grass, she called it. She said it would help Batzorig."

Cristine raised her eyebrows. "So specific," she said, and laughed.

Nick and Tammy laughed, too. "Well, yeah," Tammy said, "but then, the nomads usually aren't. Not even ghost nomads. Either way, I don't think it matters much. We have to help Batzorig, right?"

Nick nodded. "Especially if that witch is trying to kill him."

Tammy nodded grimly and shoved her hands in her pockets as they headed east.

The land around Mount Ulzuun was barren and monster-filled. Cristine suppressed a shudder as they circumnavigated a pool of acid. Something about this place was wrong. She didn't like it one bit.

Behind Tammy, a ghoul pulled itself out of the dirt. "Tammy, look out -!" Cristine yelled.

Tammy whirled round, drawing her sword just in time to stab the ghoul through the throat. It gurgled and collapsed to the ground. Tammy made a face and wiped her blade on a patch of shrivelled grass. "Well, if that's not disgusting, I don't know what is," she said conversationally.

"At least you do not have to clean it up," Erik pointed out without turning. "That is the only convenient thing about monsters - they turn to dust when they die."

And already, the ghoul had done just that.

The land only got worse as they wove their way through acid pools to a huge, dark opening in the side of Mount Ulzuun. Cristine looked at it uneasily.

"It certainly doesn't look like much of a village, does it?" she asked. "I wouldn't want to live there, anyway."

"No," Nick agreed. "But to each his own, I suppose."

The inside of the mountain was lit by the light from the entrance and a few ghostly-looking torches. There was just enough light to see yurts, faded and torn, and a complete absence of any human life.

"Lovely," Tammy muttered.

A gate blocked the four of them from going any further into the village. It was locked, a fact that Erik discovered when he tried to shove it open.

Then the air grew colder, and he and Tammy glanced back, looking at something to Cristine's right. It seemed the ghost was back.

And, a moment later, the gates swung open. Nick and Cristine headed through. Erik and Tammy caught up quickly.

"Where are we going to find grass in this place?" Nick wondered aloud, looking round. "There's not enough light here for anything to grow."

Erik shrugged. "It must be here somewhere," he said. "We will merely have to conduct a thorough search." He made straight for the yurt ahead of them.

Tammy and Nick started searching, too, but Cristine stayed put, looking around more carefully. Finally, she noticed another opening in the cave wall, several hundred metres away round the stone path that wound through the village. She drew her fan and headed down the path.

When she reached the opening, she peered inside. There were more ghostly torches lining the rough stone walls, and at the end of the short tunnel, there was a raised dais with stairs going further down into the earth. A chill wind filled the air from inside, and a very faint light seemed to emanate from random spots along the path.

"Nick!" she called excitedly. "Tammy, Erik, come here! I think I know where the bodura grass is!"

Then she brandished the sharp edge of her fan at a cheeky tiki that her shout had excited. It flinched away, and when it decided to advance again Cristine slashed at it. A cut in its wood-like flesh seemed enough to convince it that messing with the minstrel was a bad idea.

When the others reached her, they peered in.

"Ghosts," Tammy muttered. "Why are there always so many bloody ghosts?"

"Come," Erik said. "Let us at least see if the grass is here."

An uneasy shiver made its way up Cristine's spine as they walked up the corridor. She'd never been able to see the things Tammy did - not even a little bit. But ever since they'd joined up with Erik, she'd noticed something changing. It had taken a long while before she'd really realised it, but when their fygghunt led them to ghosts, Cristine's senses could pick them up, faintly as it may have been. When they'd gone down to the grave in Zere Rocks, when they'd met Marion's ghost - twice - the faint glow, the almost inaudible whisper in the depths of the Mirage Mahal - and then once in Dourbridge, when Erik and Tammy had stopped, like there was something in front of them that they could see, a very faint sound had echoed into Cristine's ears, something a little too structured to be the breeze. The sudden increase in her perception was something to do with Erik, she was certain. Spending so much time around a Celestrian, even one without his wings and halo, was bound to make things a little different.

She wasn't quite sure she liked it.

But finally, they made it down the stairs and out of the ghost-filled corridor.

All four of them looked around in surprise. Instead of another rocky cave, like Cristine had expected, they were on soft, grassy turf, surrounded by water from an underground spring. There was an island in the water where a patch of different grass grew.

"That's got to be it," Nick said. "I've never seen anything like it before, not even in books."

Erik crossed to the island and knelt to pluck a fistful of the grass. He scrutinised it for a moment. A pinkish tone suddenly popped into existence in the air beside him, and he tilted his head like he was listening to something. Then he rolled his eyes and rose and returned to the rest of them.

"It is certainly a strange plant," he said.

It was.

"Look, it looks like it's watching us with those little eyeball things," Tammy said, leaning around like she was trying to get away from their scrutiny. "Weird."

"Let's get it back to Batzorig," Cristine said. "And get out of here."

The others nodded, and they hurried away from the underground spring.


When they got back to the hunter's yurts, they found Batzorig and Khoonbish in the same yurt as before. They seemed to be arguing.

"Did I not tell you that I will be the one to visit you, Khoonbish?" Batzorig asked. "You must not come here any more."

"Grr," Khoonbish growled grumpily. It was funny how much Cristine could understand of the monster's emotions just from listening to his growls.

Batzorig turned away, and he leapt about a metre into the air when he realised that there were people watching him. "Ah, Tammy!" he exclaimed, putting a hand to his heart. "Please, you must not surprise me so!"

"Sorry," Tammy said, trying and failing to hide a smile. They stepped further inside, letting the entrance flap fall shut behind them.

"What is this you bring?" Batzorig asked then, spotting the grass in Erik's hand. "I believe I have seen such a thing, long, long ago."

He examined it for a moment and then exclaimed, "Of course! Bodura grass! My mother once showed it to me. Why do you have it with you?"

In a few words, Erik explained what had happened at the grave and in Gerzuun.

"What talk is this?" Batzorig asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "I may be a simple plainsman, but I am not so superstitious that I believe such things possible..."

"Grr! Grrr!" growled Khoonbish excitedly, nodding his head.

Batzorig turned to look at him. "Khoonbish..." Then he nodded. "You are with wisdom as always. They trusted in the truth of our story. We must trust in theirs." He folded his arms. "So my mother spoke of using the bodura grass to expose Sarantsatsral's true monstrous form...?"

He turned back to them. There was an excited light in his eyes. "If an infusion of bodura grass is thrown on the monster," he said," her mask will be washed away and her true colours revealed. Bodura grass will open the eyes of the people of Batsureg, it will protect our great plains. Will you gift it to me?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Tammy wondered aloud. Erik nodded cordially and handed Batzorig the grass.

Batzorig nodded back as he took hold of the stems. "I thank you all," he said. "I was wise to tell you the truth of my story, it seems. Now all that remains is to crush the grass and create the bodura infusion."

"Grrr! Grrr!" Khoonbish growled eagerly. Batzorig turned to him, smiling fiercely.

"Yes, Khoonbish!" he cried. "To Batsureg! I will lead those outside on before. You will follow.

Khoonbish nodded. "Grrr! Grrr!"

"May it be so!"

And then Batzorig strode out of the yurt.

"Batzorig takes his leave!" exclaimed one of the nomads.

"We must accompany him! Hurry!"

Erik snorted. Tammy, Nick, Cristine, and Khoonbish all laughed. The badboon waited a moment, and then he left, too.

"How much time should we give them to get ready, d'you reckon?" Nick asked.

Tammy shrugged.

They stood there quietly for a moment longer. Then Erik apparently decided that they'd waited long enough. "Let us follow now," he suggested and, of course, left without waiting for a response.

Back in Batsureg, Batzorig's plan had already been put into action. The nomads were gathered round the centre rise in the village, watching something wide-eyed. Batzorig, knife in hand, was standing over the perfectly still body of a particular badboon.

Batkhaan laughed proudly. "Congratulations!" he cried. "You did it, Batzorig! You did it, my son! The beast is defeated! I knew my boy was with strength. A man falls seven times and rises eight times!"

Cristine led the way through the crowd to a spot near the front. She couldn't help thinking it seemed a little overdramatic when Batzorig sobbed softly and said, "My heart was with such fear, Father. I was blind to my path forwards." He lifted his chin and drew his shoulders back. "But, with the support of you and Sarantsatsral, I was able to defeat my misgivings." Another quiet sob. Even if it was a bit too dramatic, Batzorig was doing an excellent job. He could have out-acted a number of minstrels Cristine knew, she thought. "I thank you. My loyalty is with both of you until death parts our mortal souls."

"My heart is touched by your sentiment," Sarantsatsral said kindly. "I will always protect you. There is no necessity for tears."

There was nothing in Sarantsatsral's eyes or tone which suggested any ill meaning. She was matching Batzorig's acting skill for skill.

Batzorig let out a half-stifled third sob. "I am full with gratitude, Sarantsatsraql."

And then Khoonbish moved.

"Argh!" Batzorig cried, leaping back. "Father! The beast lives yet! What must I do?"

"You must strike the final blow!" thundered Batkhaan. "Do not begin it afraid, but once begun, do not be afraid!"

Huh?

If Batzorig didn't get it, he hid it well. He nodded. "Y-Yes. It is so, Father! I will do it!"

He raised the dagger, took a deep breath...

And then ducked to the side, crying, "It is time, Khoonbish! Strike her! Strike down the wicked imposter!"

Khoonbish leapt up, and boy and beast sprinted at the witch woman. She cast some sort of spell - a shield of sorts - between herself and Khoonbish, causing a bright flash of light and a rushing wind to swirl through the camp. Cristine grabbed at her skirts and ducked her head away from the wind.

When it seemed safe to come up, Khoonbish had been knocked back several paces but was on his paws. Sarantsatsral's veil had flown off, revealing a shapely nose and pretty but startlingly dark lips.

"The charade is finished, Sarantsatsral," Batzorig said, pulling a canister out of his pocket. "Now show your true colours!"

The contents of the canister were perfectly clear, only distinguishable from the air around them by a distorted, liquid effect. They landed square on Sarantsatsral, soaking her through.

"What is this insanity, Batzorig?" yelled Batkhaan, who must have been knocked back in the blast of wind, because he was sitting on the ground several metres away from his previous position. "Has your mind deserted you, boy?"

Sarantsatsral was writhing almost like she was in pain, struggling to shake off the bodura infusion. A strange vapour was gathering in the air around her.

"S-Sarantsatsral!" yelled a nomad.

"What wickedness has the young master perpetrated?"

Batzorig turned to face the gathered nomads. "It is not as you believe, people of Batsureg!" he cried. "This is no woman, it is a foul beast!" He twisted and jabbed a finger at Sarantsatsral. The vapour was growing thicker now, pouring out of her in streams. An uneasy feeling stirred in Cristine's stomach.

"Behold, the true form of she in whom you had such deep trust!"

"Kaaaaaagh," Sarantsatsral groaned. "My desirous form... It deserts me... Wh-What ill is this that befalls me...?"

The vapour grew so thick that Cristine couldn't even see a shadow of Sarantsatsral's form. The cloud expanded up and out, roiling and seething, and then exploded out into wisps of gas.

Everyone in the village stumbled back several paces as they saw, standing where Sarantsatsral had been, a huge, pink, fleshy monster dressed in the witch woman's clothes. "Grrrrrrrrarrrrrgh!" it roared.

"This beast has deceived us all!" yelled Batzorig over the panicked cries of the nomads. "In truth, she is a demon who would bend us to her will so that the plains might be hers to command!" Then he turned to the nomads, pulling his gaze away from the monster. "Come, warriors of Batsureg! We must join forces and drive this evil from our homes for the sake of our people!"

But the nomads didn't seem to agree. Cristine wasn't entirely sure they'd even heard Batzorig speak.

"Aaaaaagh! Sarantsatsral is in truth a foul demon!"

"This is the end! The plains are doomed!"

Batzorig looked at them incredulously. Then he turned back to Sarantsatsral, jaw tight, drawing his knife. "...The will of the people is weakened by her wicked deception..." he muttered. "Then we must stand alone. Come, Khoonbish, to arms!"

The two of them raced at Sarantsatsral. "Batzorig, no!" Nick yelled. He'd seen the same thing as all the rest of them: Sarantsatsral's thick staff, drawn back and ready to swat.

And swat she did, sending Batzorig and Khoonbish flying back and landing just in front of Cristine, Nick, Erik, and Tammy. The four of them lurched forwards to see if they were okay.

"Hee heeee!" laughed Sarantsatsral. "You would not test my patience so if you knew what was good for you, mortal fools! I was so near to bringing the leader of you simple plainsfolk under my influence, and the plains with him..."

Cristine didn't look up. "I think Khoonbish is unconscious," she whispered.

Batzorig was conscious, but Tammy said, "Don't get up - she hit your head hard."

"And you dare to obstruct my scheme?" Sarantsatsral bellowed. "You will regret your intrusion! I will consume you all."

"Not if we are able to help it," Erik muttered. "Batzorig, remain here - we will fight in your stead."

Tammy nodded and rose, drawing her sword. "You'll do no such thing!" she told Sarantsatsral fiercely. And then they all got up, readying weapons.

Sarantsatsral laughed. "Foolish creatures! You are with the courage to challenge a beast twice your size?" And then she let out a roar that made Cristine want to run far and fast in the opposite direction.

She didn't, though. Instead, she raced forwards, fan extended to strike, and executed a pratfall just out of reach of Sarantsatsral's staff.

While the monster was distracted laughing at what she thought was Cristine's clumsiness, Erik raced round and scored deep lines in Sarantsatsral's side. Then Cristine popped back onto her feet and fanned a jet of flame at the monster's face.

She screeched and batted at the fire.

Tammy dodged the blind stumbling of the monster and drove her sword deep into the arm holding the staff. Sarantsatsral screeched again and swatted at her, but Tammy jumped back, grinning tauntingly.

Sarantsatsral switched her staff to her other hand and swung at Erik. The end caught him in the side and knocked him several paces away.

Nick hurried to him, but Erik waved off his ministrations. "It is only a bruise," he gasped.

Even though Nick looked at him doubtfully, he didn't argue - he just raised the lightning staff. Arcs of electricity crackled from the top and wrapped their glowing tendrils round Sarantsatsral. She spasmed and almost collapsed.

The air was full of shouts and screams - cries to stop, nomads cheering them on, frightened screeches when Sarantsatsral came close to really badly hurting any of them. Cristine hardly noticed it. Like the others, her only focus was defeating Sarantsatsral. And they resorted to some old tricks to do it.

But now, with four instead of two, they worked even better.

Erik dodged in front of Sarantsatsral, evading her blows by a couple centimetres, enraging her so that her focus was solely on him. He led her round the centre rise, away from Nick, Tammy, and Cristine.

The three of them followed Sarantsatsral, closing in behind and beside her. A nod from Tammy, on her right - passed along to Erik and Nick, who was behind - Cristine, on the left, saw it and moved in - all four of them leapt in and attacked at once, raking into Sarantsatsral with claws, with fans, with swords and with staffs.

The monster roared and whirled in a circle, trying to hit at least one of them, but they'd all dodged back and were gathering by Cristine. Tammy was the furthest away, though, and Sarantsatsral, realising that Tammy was on her own, lunged.

Her staff caught Tammy on the shoulder and sent her flying halfway across the rise.

"Tammy!"

"I'll get her," Cristine said, and danced away from Sarantsatsral's staff as she raced over to her friend.

Tammy was sitting up, groaning as the motion jolted her arm. "Are you all right?" Cristine asked, kneeling down next to her.

"Fine," she said, gritting her teeth. "No, don't touch it - augh!"

Cristine bit her lip. "That's not fine, Tammy," she said. "Almighty, you're danger-prone - here, let me see it."

"What d'you mean, danger-prone?" Tammy asked, wincing, as she pushed up her sleeve.

As she examined the shoulder and the arm, Cristine laughed and said, "Let me see. That curse of Morag's, the contagion, getting hit in the head by Garth Goyle and now in the arm by Sarantsatsral - and that's just since we met up with Erik and Nick! Before that it was that time you almost fell overboard - remember that, when we were going from Slurry Quay over to Gleeba? - and when you nearly cracked your skull open on that rock, and that toxic zombie that scratched you, then the time you managed to run into that statue in Mason's carving yard and broke it and your collarbone -"

"All right, all right, I get it!" Tammy said before Cristine could say anything else. "Fine, I'm danger-prone - now will you let me get up and fight?"

Cristine made a face. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," she said. "I can't be sure, but I think you might have fractured something."

"No, it's fine," Tammy said, and tried to get up. Cristine put a hand on her uninjured shoulder.

"Either way," Cristine said, "it's your left arm that's hurt, and it isn't going to be easy for you to fight with your right hand. Go and sit with Batzorig and Khoonbish."

Tammy's mouth twisted stubbornly, but finally, she grunted her agreement. Cristine helped her up. "Sword in your right hand," she said, "and off we go."

She watched long enough to make sure that Tammy wasn't going to get attacked walking across the rise, and then rejoined the boys in battle.

It wasn't long after that when a heavy blow from Nick's staff sent Sarantsatsral reeling back. More of the strange vapour started gathering around her.

"Aaaaaaaaargh!" she cried, covering her face. "Beaten by mortal hands...? Noooo... My power... My precious might..."

The vapour enveloped her again, but this time the cloud shrank before it vanished to reveal...a slugger. Cristine blinked.

The rest of the world started fading back in. Cristine could hear gasps and exclamations and the sounds of rising chatter from the nomads. And then they started to quiet down as Batzorig and the now-conscious Khoonbish stepped towards Sarantsatsral.

"Yikes!" she yelped. "Um, er, please don't 'urt me, guv! I ain't nothin' to be afraid of now, I swear! I was lonely, see. All you nomads wanted nothin' to do with me. Then I gobbled up that fruit I found out on the plains, see, an' I got all strong, like. It all went to me 'ead a bit. I couldn't seem to stop meself. You'll let it go, won't ya, precious? I didn't mean any 'arm!"

Batzorig regarded her coolly. "Your actions cannot so easily be forgiven. ...However, the escaped horse cannot be captured. Destroying you will not change what has occurred. I will allow you to leave. But you must be with agreement on one condition." He looked from Sarantsatsral to the badboon by his side. "My loyal friend, Khoonbish," he said. "From this day on, he will also be a friend of yours." Then he looked back at Sarantsatsral. "With him in your company, you will never again have to be alone. You are in harmony with this, Khoonbish?"

Khoonbish nodded, growling his agreement.

"I thank you," Batzorig said. "Then may it be so. Go on your way, Sarantsatsral."

The slugger scrambled onto her knees and started bowing. "That's ever so kind of you, guv," she said. "I can't thank you enough, 'onest. I won't get up to no good again, I swear."

Khoonbish growled softly and nudged her up, and the two of them left together through a part in the crowd of nomads.


After Khoonbish and Sarantsatsral had left, Erik had retrieved the fygg left by Sarantsatsral, and then the three of them had gone with Tammy and a nomad healer back to the inn to check Tammy's arm. Nick and the healer had pronounced it broken. After the application of a little magic and a bandage, though, it was well enough that they could go out and join in the party that had started up to celebrate Sarantsatsral's defeat.

It was late at night when it was over, and it was fairly late the next morning when the four of them left the inn. Cristine was still yawning widely.

Everyone was gathered on the rise again, but this time they were watching Batkhaan and Batzorig, who were standing on the top rise, outside of the chief's yurt.

"Listen well, faithful herders of Batsureg!" Batkhaan called. "My days as your chief are now passed. The donkey recognises the tracks of the horse. The son I thought lacking now surpasses me in every way." He smiled and turned to Batzorig. "My heart and mind are certain that he will be a valiant and true leader. From this day onwards, you are chief of Batsureg!"

Batzorig stepped forward as his father turned back to face the crowd.

"I am Batzorig, chief of Batsureg!" he said, his voice strong. "Listen well, faithful herders! We are a proud nomadic people! We carve our path in this life on the great plains and allow nothing to stand in our way. To lean on the crutch of another's power as we have done is to forget the honour and independence of our people! If we remember this, we cannot be deceived again as we have been. We can only grow stronger! It will be so!"

Cristine, Tammy, and Nick smiled, and they and Erik joined in with the nomads as they cheered for the new chief.

Batzorig and Batkhaan left the village then. Cristine watched them go.

"They're going to Bayarmaa's grave," Tammy murmured.

Cristine nodded slowly. "Well, let's leave them be," she said quietly. "I don't want to bother them while they pay their respects."

"That's probably the best thing to do," Nick agreed.

They all four looked round at each other. Then, together, they left the nomad village and started on their way back to the Pride of Bloomingdale.


Okay, before I go any further, I just need to ask: does anyone here understand the nomads' sayings? I mean, some of them I get, but then they go and say the whole 'do not begin it afraid, but once begun, do not be afraid!' thing, and...ugh. Batkhaan's trying to say don't be afraid, I know, but there's got to be a way of putting it where the grammar gets the idea across without making someone go huh?!

Anyway, now that's out of the way...

I hope everyone enjoyed getting a bit of Cristine's perspective. Tammy's pretty cool, in my opinion (though I'm a little biased), but it's loads of fun to play around with how other people see what's happening in the story - or not see, conversely, when it comes to ghosts and faeries. Which is another interesting thing - it seems Tammy isn't the only one whose senses are being affected by the presence of a Celestrian!

So, leaving you with that little morsel to chew on til next chapter... May all the bodies of the heavens watch over you!