The
Call of the Void, Book 1 - Dreamers

By Kathryn
Churchill

2015

Copyright
© 2015 by Kevin Churchill

All
rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may
not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without
the express written permission of the publisher

except
for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed
in Canada

Fourth Printing, 2015

The characters in this book are fictional; any resemblance to persons living
or dead is coincidental and not intended to malign or exalt any specific
individual.

Mercian Tales Publishing

149 Stewart Street

Peterborough, Ontario, K9J3M3

kathryn@nexicom.net

Please
use the header  “COTV: <subject>” if sending email about the
book

This book has been a wonderful project to work on, and I hope you enjoy reading
it as much as I did in writing it.  I’d like to dedicate this book to Rob
and Doug for their support and for their aid, and to Paul and Dan, whose help
and opinions were invaluable in getting this book to print online.
THANKS!

- Kathryn Churchill

Preface

This project started
germinating in my mind in September 2002 – but ended up sitting on the back
burner for over a decade due to stress, poor health, and family life.  The
fact that I’ve finally been able to bring my vision of Mercia to life, and fill
it with great characters and situations gives me a great satisfaction and great
joy.

I’ve been working on this project for so long, I feel I’ve actually been to
Mercia sometimes... walked its green hills, seen its majestic mountains.
I know its not so – but I wish it could be.   I hope that this tale,
for a while at least, transports you there so you can experience it as I have.

I think there’s a little bit of myself in all of the main characters – which to
me is great because I get to act out with all of them, not just ‘the favorite’
– because there isn’t a favourite.  I love them all, like they were
children, and that’s the best part: seeing how they grow and what they grow
into.

When I wrote this book, I wanted to write a book that had both a Schizophrenic
(or close to it) and Transgendered main character – because in many ways I was
dealing with both of those issues myself.  Schizophrenia is a nightmarish
illness to deal with – and being Transgendered is only slightly less
nightmarish.   I also wanted to write a story where religion was
important – a large part of the plot, not just ‘background color’.
Important doesn’t mean wholly benevolent, either – and I hope that the story
illustrates the importance of religion to its followers – any religion, good or
bad.

I also intended to tell a tale where characters would encounter both a new,
magical world – and our mundane world.   Sometimes we can’t see the
absurdities of our own life, until they’re pointed out by a stranger – and I
think in that I succeeded.   Most of all, I wanted Mercia to live and
breathe – and I have many stories to tell about its people and places.
I hope you find this story interesting enough to join me as I do.

Kathryn Churchill

February, 2015

TABLE
OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1 -
Dungeons. 6

Chapter 2 -
Rat City. 9

Chapter 3 -
Escapes. 25

Chapter 4 -
Investigations. 37

Chapter 5 -
The House of Broken Dreams. 54

Chapter 6 -
The Neilson Clinic. 71

Chapter 7 -
Leavetakings. 91

Chapter 8 -
Mercia. 106

Chapter 9 -
Explanations. 122

Chapter 10 -
Kai 138

Chapter 11 -
First Word. 150

Chapter 12 -
Answers to Questions. 169

Chapter 13 -
Hidden Secrets. 184

Chapter 14 -
A Dreamer Shall Wake. 202

Chapter 15 -
Truth. 218

Chapter 16 -
Axe and Flagon. 232

Chapter 17 -
Wethom.. 251

Chapter 18 –
Kai’s Cabin. 276

Chapter 19 -
Council Meetings. 294

Chapter 20 -
Church Sermons. 308

Chapter 21 -
Assassins. 328

Chapter 22 -
Second Word. 348

Chapter 23 -
The Priory of St. Jillian. 363

Chapter 24 -
Visitation. 387

SNEAK
PREVIEW... 394

Chapter 1 - Dungeons

Deep in the dungeons of The House of Broken Dreams, Maeve Varda strained in the
darkness against her bonds - solid iron bands holding her wrists and ankles,
riveted to the stone walls with only a single link of iron chain.  She was
spread-eagled against the wall of the cell, unable to move in any meaningful
way except to turn her head from left to right.  Her back ached fiercely
and her legs were beginning to cramp after hanging motionless for long hours on
the damp stone wall, and her head ached from the drugs the Hserinyar had dosed
her with.  Maeve ignored the aches and pains with the stoicism of
accustomed practice, and decided to open her eyes.

She blinked several times, unable to focus and knowing there was little point
in trying since the guards had taken the light away.  It was dark; not the
dark of a moonlit night, but an utter, inky blackness that pervaded everything
it touched.  Even when it had been present, the torchlight seemed wan and
lifeless, as if even the fire itself wanted to flee the place.  When the
cell had been lit, when the guard had chained her to the wall, she had seen the
cell.  It was small, almost smaller than her five and some feet on a side,
with low, overhanging wooden beams.

It was surprisingly quiet in the dungeons of the Sanatorium.  The only
sounds she could hear was her own muffled breathing and the slow, steady drip
of water, occasionally punctuated by the cries of the insane occupants of the
place.  The air was stale and rank, laced with the smell of the blood and
excrement of prisoners long past.  It was the smell of despair.

Then, through the dim screams of the madmen and madwomen of the House of Broken
Dreams, she heard it again - the sounds - the babble - of the Dreamers and that
of their Hserinyar mentors.  Maeve and her superiors had for some time
suspected something suspicious was occurring at the House of Broken Dreams -
tales of people - Dreamers - being brought here in great numbers.
It was odd enough to warrant an investigation - and when the Council of
Hierarchs wanted something investigated, they sent Maeve.

It wasn’t long after that, that Maeve had discovered the priests who watched
over the Dreamers were a mixture of Hserinyar agents, and worshippers of Lady
Delirium.   The priests and priestesses of Lady Delirium had been
given a dispensation to stay in the country to tend the mad-house - but the
presence of the Hserinyar was dire news indeed.   The Hserinyar were
priests of Hrask, the God of magic - and a dire enemy of her
people.   The Church had suspected that the gathering of Dreamers to
one place signified some odd plan - and Maeve had soon discovered their suspicions
seemed warranted.   Wagons had been seen coming and going at all
times of the day or night, gathering Dreamers from all across Mercia to one
place.   And the worst thing is, I think I might have come close
to discovering what the Hserinyar want with the Dreamers.  If only I could
get out of these damned chains!  She yanked her left hand against the
unyielding chain and iron manacle, to no avail.

Maeve knew no one would be coming for her - no rescue, no aid.   Even
her friend Kai had no reason to know she had been captured, at least until she
didn’t show up for their rendezvous.   Maeve suspected by then it
would be too late.  And now the Hserinyar are involved!  She
thought.  It chilled her to the bone.  For millennia her people had
fought the Hserinyar - and for them to be here, in the heart of her Kingdom,
sent chills up her spine.  For over six thousand years, humanity had been
the slaves of the Hserinyar and their draconic Godlings - and when the twelve
Great Heroes of Legend freed humanity on Mercia from the yoke of their Dragon
Masters, Humanity swore it would never be enslaved again.

We have been free for 3525 years, with the Hserites barred behind the Walls
of Harad. Maeve thought.  If I fail now, all that may be
lost!   My people, my gods - swept away in a river of blood and
fury.  I will NOT fail... Not again!

Grunting with frustration, Maeve tested her bonds once more, and then gave up -
the metal brackets holding her wrists and ankles held her firm against the wall
- far too short for decent leverage, and far too thick to think of breaking
them by brute force, even for an athletic woman such as herself.

And the damned drugs they forced on me are blocking my mage talent, she
thought.  Tastes like Audorin root - which means I'll be lucky if I can
feel my toes, let alone find out where in the Seven Hells I am.
"Aaagggh!" Maeve muttered in frustration.  "I should have
listened to Mother and become a seamstress."

Still, she struggled, not being one to give up hope.  I can still feel
the Call, she thought, so I can't be totally blocked.  Maybe I can use the
Sight?  Audorin root didn't harm a persons' mage-talent, it just
blocked their ability to sense the Void, and to channel the magical energies
within it.  Unfortunately, it didn't also stop the Call of Hrask - but
then, nothing did.  Maeve could feel it roiling within her - a mental pull
towards Hrasks’ draconic nature - greedy, voracious, and inhuman - a pull that
grew stronger the more magic one used, and one that could only be resisted
effectively if one had been trained to see it, and resist it.  Sometimes
she thought of what might happen if she couldn’t resist the Call one day.
Would she go mad with her magic, and slay those that she once swore to protect
- or worse, would she become one of the Fallen, and be wholly taken by Hrasks
draconic nature and cease to be human forevermore?  Maeve shuddered, and
left those thoughts, putting her attention back to the task at hand.

Maeve tried to center herself, and concentrate, but her focus eluded her.
Slowly, she gathered her will, and pushed, struggling to achieve Nairya, a
state of mind some people called a ‘battle-trance’.  Maeve thought back to
her training, years ago in Arathel.  Her teachers told her of the
importance of using the Nairya to focus her will. While in Nairya, a
practitioner of magic could still sense their surroundings, but tune out
distractions that made it more difficult to summon and use magical power -
distractions like hunger, thirst, exhaustion and pain.  And it looks
like I’ve got all four, Maeve thought.  It took her some time, but she
felt her mind "click" and suddenly, she was calm and centered, the
Nairya in place.

She extended her arcane senses slowly beyond the confines of her cell, sensing
without actually seeing the lives and essences of many people nearby.
Actually seeing them was more than Maeve could accomplish while drugged.
But, she thought, perhaps the audorin root would wear off soon.

Almost all of the "residents" of the House of Broken Dreams were
either insane or there for political reasons - persons who Maeve’s Church had
felt needed to be removed from society for the safety of others, or prisoners
of nobles wealthy enough to hire the use of the House as their private
prison.  The rest of the inhabitants of the House were the clergy of Lady
Delirium, Goddess of Night, of Loss, and Insanity, who claimed their mission
here was to tend to these poor souls and ease their pain their shattered minds
caused them.  Normally, their faith - as well as the Hserinyar’s - was
barred from Valris, Maeve’s homeland, due to theological
differences.   Maeve’s gods were those of the Askelinian faith -
Askeline the Merciful, Isundal the Skyfather - and their Children, the
Twins.   Together, these gods had protected and nurtured humanity
through their long years of tribulation and torment - and it was to them Maeve
owed her love, worship and allegiance.

I always get the good jobs, don’t I?  Maeve mused, as her arcane
senses swept out beyond her cell, and into the rest of the House.  She
sensed sleeping people - minds that were strangely dormant, even if the bodies
attached to them were awake.  Those must be the Dreamers, she
thought.   Now I need to find someone or something I can use to
escape...

She felt more than anything else, a change sweep over the House.
Suddenly, the screams of the mad crowded in on her, strong beyond reason, filling
her ears, and roiling in her mind.   Whatever power she had been able
to control was instantly lost, and Maeve suddenly felt the fear they felt,
could feel their pain, feel their confusion, and their madness.  Great
Goddess!  Maeve thought, almost buried under a wave of terror.  Some
of these Dreamers are Mageborn!

Blindly, she cast about with her crippled mage senses, desperately seeking
anything she could anchor herself to before her sense of self and her sanity
would be swept away, regardless of the danger.  Panicked, Maeve's mage
senses moved about, seeking what she didn't know, until at last she felt the
tenuous touch of another mageborn mind.  "Ladies of Mercy, Help
me!"  She cried to the other mind.  "Please, Help me!"

And then, it was too late.  The contact was lost, and Maeve was swept into
the conjoined madness of the House of Broken Dreams.

Chapter 2 - Rat City

Eric was drifting, drifting somewhere soft and dark, dreaming again - he could somehow
tell he was asleep and dreaming.  The blackness enveloped him like a warm
blanket that lacked any sense of comfort - like a vast unfairness that promised
something, then took it away.  It was a familiar feeling, and nothing new
- it was the story of his life.  The voices were there, but they were
always there - they had been since he was younger, when he was diagnosed as a
Schizophrenic.  This time, though, there was a new voice.

He tried to listen to it - the new voice - but the babble of the Voices was
loud, even in his dreams, and he could barely hear.  Its tone was soft and
pleasing, but its singsong babble he couldn't understand, although it somehow
seemed to be familiar.  He moved towards the new voice, and as he strained
to hear, he thought it must be a woman's voice.   The babble was
compelling, even though it made no sense.  Tir Ballas Mi Condir.
Arrafa Mi Condir.  Babble.  The other Voices would not be denied,
however, and their continued harsh syllables grated on his ears, both serpentine
and decadent, and they filled him with fear, even though he could not
understand their words.

Sometimes, when he listened too long, when he chased his dreams to their home,
he thought he could begin to understand them, but when he did, the fear came
back - bone-crushing, soul destroying fear - and he would turn away, and come
back to the real world.   There was something like death in those
dreams.  Something awful, or awesome, and he didn't know which - perhaps
it was both.

Eric tried to hear more of the woman's voice, but it was gone, and in its place
there was a presence - something inhuman, and evil.  Eric knew evil - he
saw it every day - but this was different, and in some way more fundamental
than common human uncaring.   Flinching away from this new, dark
presence, he fled somehow - how do you run in a dream? - and woke with a start,
gasping.

As he slowly came to his senses, Eric grew aware of the rain - more like a
downpour, and the sounds of rolling thunder.  His night sweats made his
filthy clothes even more uncomfortable, even under their layers of grime, and
he was surprised to taste salty tears on his cheeks.   It was
uncomfortably hot.  Summertime in the Golden Horseshoe - the area running
from the Niagara river around Hamilton and Toronto to Oshawa - could be that
way, and the rain made it ten times as hot with the awful humidity, compounded
by the sodden, ragged blankets he was concealed under.  It didn't help
that he slept behind a dumpster in an alley, deep in the area of urban sprawl
of Toronto that Eric and his friends called "Rat City" because of the
ever-present garbage.  Rat City was actually a series of small lanes and
alleys just off Victoria street, south of King street - behind the King Edward
Hotel.

Eric looked through the warm rain at his two friends, Dave and Norm, huddling
beside a dumpster, trying to hide from the endless rain in the hollow of the
King Edward's service door.  They were nearly two to three times Eric's
age, at least, but it seemed to Eric like they had been in Rat City since...
well, since forever.  Dave was in his mid forties, with craggy-features
and a grizzled salt-and-pepper beard.  He was tall, but slender - and had
a nasty, hacking cough that never seemed to get better no matter how good
weather got, while Norm was older - and both grizzled and hardened by the
streets.  Norm was stronger and broader of build as well - but age was
catching up with him as surely as living on the streets was wearing him down -
you could tell by looking at him he had seen too many years.  His hair was
silver - what was left of it - and he tried to stay clean-shaven.  Eric
worried about Norm a lot.   As the rain poured down, and the thunder
rolled across the sky, Eric looked about their haven from the storm, senses
alert for any danger.

Rat City was well-named.  Dozens of the furry scavengers crept around,
squeaking and foraging for food.  Sometimes, when the food was harder to
find, he and his friends would have to fight them off, or fight them away from
themselves.  The rats had no qualm about nipping off a finger or toe, and
Eric knew a few people who had suffered just that.  At least I don't
need to worry about that now.  Eric thought.  With all this
garbage around, there's more than enough to go around, for us and the
rats.  It’s been what?  Six weeks since the garbage strike began?
Six and six and six and six.   The voices started to
take hold of Eric’s thoughts again - and he was aware enough to realize it.

"No," he said out loud, somewhat surprised at his own voice.
"I won't think about that.  Stupid voices.  Go to
Hell."  He tried to avoid thinking about it, but the voices kept
hammering.  We are.  We will.  You will too, Eric.
He muttered and moaned, trying to shut out the voices, and the fear.

The black garbage bags were piled high in the streets and alleyways, like
sandbags in the face of an advancing flood, and the Dumpsters overflowed.
The smells created of oppressive heat and rotting garbage were nearly
overpowering, but didn't faze Eric or the others; after weeks and years on the
streets it took more than bad smells to scare them away.  Hell, he
thought, Norm and Dave have smelled worse at times.  I have too.
Sometimes we three smell worse than the garbage - but I suppose that’s the best
you can do when the only time you shower is when it rains.

Dave and Norm were huddled in a service doorway to the King Edward Hotel,
hiding from the rain while catching some sleep, a rare commodity on the
streets.  Dave and Norm were Eric’s best friends - they took care of each
other, and genuinely cared about each other.  He laughed
bitterly.   They’re closer to me than my own father, Eric
thought.  At least I know Norm and Dave care about me.   All
Dad cares about is money, and his reputation.  All three wore castoffs
and discarded clothing they had found in the Goodwill and Sally Anne.

Eric and the others had been together for about three years, on and off, when
he wasn't in the Halfway Houses his family - his sister Angie, mostly - kept
putting him in.  They didn't understand the Voices, except maybe Angie,
Eric thought.  And they don't care to, either.  He had once
described his voices to Angie as nattering and probing and talking and
screaming, all in his head, all the time - but worse when he slept.
Sometimes they said things, and he didn't understand.  Sometimes he
thought he did understand, and that scared him more.

The susurrus of voices, calmed for the moment, gave Eric a chance to look over
at Norm, who was just stirring.  Eric nodded, and called out "Hey
Norm."

"Hey Eric.  You okay?  I heard you mumbling again - was it the
Spiders?"  Norm asked.  He grabbed a half-bottle of wine that
had missed getting drunk, and took a swig.  "You want some,
kid?  This stuff - it sometimes makes things better, you know?"

"No! It's poison, right Norm?  I don't wanna die.  I'll die if I
drink that stuff."  Eric twitched, his face spasming as the Voices in
his head caused emotion after emotion to play over his face.  The voices
said lots of things - taunting him, making his life a living hell, until it was
difficult to tell his thoughts apart from what the voices were saying.
Sometimes they said things were poison.  Sometimes they said dying was
better than living.   Eric spent most of his time trying to determine
what was real and what wasn’t - and sometimes he failed.  Finally,
breaking free of whatever grasp his confused mind had on himself, Eric muttered
"Nah. I need some food.  Donuts and coffee.  No rats.  No
booze."

"Suit yourself, Kid.  More for me and Dave, if the lump ever wakes
up."  Norm uncorked the bottle in one smooth motion, and took a hefty
swig of the red wine.  As clumsy as he seemed, he didn't spill even a
single drop, and drank down half of what remained in a long, drawn out gulp.

Eric spasmed as the Voices took over, and rocked back and forth, almost like an
autistic child.  To Eric, it felt like a storm in his mind.  After
the fit passed, he got up to his feet, a little unsteadily, and headed out of
"his" alley and into the streets of Toronto, muttering to his
insubstantial voices, and talking to things that weren't actually there.

Norm watched Eric leave the alley, twitching and muttering, and sighed.  Poor
kid.  He thought.  We're all a little crazy down here, but
he's a bit crazier than most.  He's not even halfway through his
twenties.  If he was twenty.  "Helluva life for a
kid."  He said, aloud.   "Helluva life."

Eric walked, struggling to retain focus and control over his thoughts.  Coffee,
Donuts.  Coffee, Donuts.  He thought, over and over, like a
mantra to keep the voices away, unaware that he spoke the same words
aloud.  It worked though, and soon he saw the familiar black and yellow
sign through the watery darkness.  It never got totally dark in the city,
with all the street lights, signs, and traffic lights, except in the
alleys.  Don't cross the street Eric.  You'll die with us,
Eric.  The voices whispered.  They liked to try and prevent
him from things he wanted to do - and make him do things he didn’t.
It’s like they hate me.  Eric thought.  Like they do this
on purpose, like it’s not just me being confused or insane.  Either way,
what choice do I have except to fight them?

Fighting the urge to freeze, he crossed the street and entered the store, and
walked over to the counter.  A young woman, probably just over 20 years of
age, watched him approach.  He didn't recognise her, and he'd been coming
to his favourite donut hole for about a year.  He watched her back, for a
moment.  She was dark-skinned, and had crinkly black hair done back in
rows.  Her face was sharp, and not un-pretty.  She seemed bright, if
bored to be working the graveyard shift.  Her name-tag proclaimed her
"Lynnette."

"Hi...  You new?"  Eric muttered, and looked left, then
right, looking for sounds that weren't there - that only he could hear.  Poison,
Eric.  This food is poison.

"Yeah.  You Okay?" Lynnette asked.  "You don't look so
good."

"Can I have a coffee?  I have money.  No poison, though,
okay."  Eric's face spasmed, and he hunched down.

"No poison?  Ah.  You're one of the regulars, right.  Down
in the alleys?  My supervisor said you sometimes stop by."
Lynnette looked at him curiously.  "You want some food too?  The
boss said I could tell you the dumpster was okay."

Eric looked at Lynnette oddly.  "Janey's cool.  Coffee.  No
Poison.  Thanks for the donuts."  He pulled out some change from
his pockets - all that was left of yesterday's pan-handling  on Yonge
Street.  Most people called Eric and his pals a nuisance, but Janey often
offered him, and sometimes Dave and Norm some donuts from the dumpster.  Some
people actually cared, Eric thought.

Lynnette counted out the change, and handed him a few cents in change.
"You want that with milk or sugar?"

"Black.  No poison."  Eric watched her pour the coffee, and
then started as he saw himself in the mirrored walls of the donut shop.
He was tall and unusually pudgy, and dressed in rags of clothes that had seen
better days.  He had filthy blondish hair that went to just past his
shoulders, un-cut for far too many months, and his beard was just as ragged,
although less thick by far.  He could see himself in the reflection, but
it always seemed different than he remembered.  It was hard to tell if he
was handsome or not, under all the street filth covering him.  He thought
of his dreams, of the unfairness.  In his mind he imagined his life
differently, and he hated it - hated the way his life had turned out, hated the
way he looked when he looked in the mirror.   It wasn't supposed
to be like this... I wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Eric took his coffee silently from Lynnette, and left the store, feeling bitter
and disturbed by his reflection.  Ignoring the rain, he headed over to the
dumpster out back more by habit and reflex than by conscious inclination.
He crawled over the piles of uncollected garbage bags, and after a few minutes
of dumpster diving collected a nice-sized green garbage bag full of semi-stale,
mostly dry donuts.  Mmmmm.  Donuts.  Maybe Dave or Norm'll want
some?  Climbing out of the pile of wet refuse, Eric gathered his bag of
food, and headed back to his alley, where hopefully his friends would be
waiting.

When he got back, the sun was changing to a dark grey pre-dawn, the downpour
had become a depressing drizzle, and both Dave and Norm were up.  His two
friends were taking turns at throwing small stones at their now empty bottle of
wine.

Dave called out "Hey, Eric.  Whatchya got?", in a voice too
roughened by smoking to ever sound like anything but rough gravel.  He
hawked, and spit.  "Got anything to drink?"

"Sorry, Dave, no.  I have Donuts."  Eric proffered the bag
rescued from the dumpster, and smiled.  "I had a few - they're not
too stale.  And no poison."

"Yeah, I'll take one." Dave replied.  "I just hope it stays
down."  At that, Dave coughed fiercely, and hawked his throat,
spitting a vile brown fluid onto the wet streets, where it washed away in the
puddled rainwater.   Dave coughed once more, and reached for a
donut.  As he gobbled the donut, he coughed once more and muttered
"God I need a smoke."

The three of them sat in silence, Dave and Eric eating donuts, as the rain
turned from a drizzle into a light sprinkle, and then to no rain at all.
The sun was just rising on the city of Toronto, and the day beckoned to
them.

The service door in the alley opened without warning, and as Dave and Norm rose
to get out of the way, a young man dressed as if he just came from the kitchens
exited, and waved at the three of them.  "Hey - you guys want some
breakfast?  The boss told me you guys watch out for punks and thieves, out
back here.  And since he figures that helps him, we're supposed to help
you and give you guys some handouts."

"Sure thing.  Whatchya got?"  Dave said, hawking and
spitting another glob of viscous brown grundge.

"How about a half a salmon-croissant, a few sausages, and some leftover
pancakes."

Eric's stomach grumbled - a coffee and a bag of donuts was filling, but he
needed better food.  "No Poison?"

"Wha...?"  The kitchen clerk exclaimed.  "No - no
poison."  he said, muttering under his breath "Jesus these guys
are freaks." just loud enough for the others to hear.

"Hey." said Dave.  "Ignore the kid, he's okay - just a
little funny upstairs, okay?"  He reached over to the plastic bag and
passed out styrofoam take-out containers full of food.  “You’re new,
right?”

"Yeah, whatever.  I started yesterday."  The young man
turned, and left the three of them to the relative peace of the alleys of Rat
City to enjoy their food.  Norm ate a bit of sausage and a few pancakes,
while Dave had the half-croissant.  As Eric polished off the rest - 2
sausages and 6 mangled pancakes with syrup - the other two shared a cigarette
and watched the sun climb higher in the sky.

Norm was the first to speak.  "We should go.  The people 'll be
up and around soon.  We can make some good money if we hurry."

It wasn't an unusual suggestion - in fact, it was their standard day.
Sleep as best you can; Get up and grab something to eat, usually from a
dumpster, unless the missions were open; and beg for change from
passersby.  Later that day Norm would take their bounty to the liquor
store, in preparation for another night in "Rat City," where Norm and
Dave would get blind drunk, and pass out.

Maybe there'll be
some left over, and I'll be able to get another coffee?  Eric
thought.  Coffee kept him from sleeping, and not sleeping kept the bad
dreams away.  I just hope there's enough.  Sometimes there isn’t
and then the spiders come.

The odd trio rolled up their blankets and meagre possessions - a two-wheeled
wire-frame shopping cart, a few nudie magazines of Norm's, and a small hand
radio with a bad battery - behind a dumpster, and headed towards Yonge street
to beg for another day.

*
*          *

Christine Vallen woke to the annoying beep-beep of her clock radio. The radio announcer
was saying it was Thursday, August 11th, 6:30am.  God she hated that
smarmy bastard.  I should change my radio station, she thought
still half-asleep.  And I would, except it has the best weather report.
Yawning, she smacked her lips, trying to get the early morning furry feeling
off her tongue.  Looking at the clock, she groaned.  Christ, it's
already 6:30?  I'd better motor - It's going to be a long day.

Christine hated days like today - her fieldwork days, where she had to go out
amongst the homeless and the indigent, and do her best to find the ones on her
list of those to help.  Not because she disliked the street people, but
because it made her feel so damned helpless.  The Government would do a
lot better to find these people houses, or appropriate medical care, than give
them sleeping bags for the winter.  Same old story, same old gripes.
Still, she thought, I wish I could do more.  It's just not fair.

She quickly showered, and towel-dried
her hair.  As her short brown hair dried, she dressed in blue jeans and a
charcoal blouse, and heavy, battered Hiking boots.  Suitable work
attire, even for today, she thought.  Heading back to the bathroom,
she brushed her teeth, glad to be rid of the feeling of furry teeth, and
brushed her hair into her standard pageboy.  A few touches of makeup
later, and she was ready to go.

I'll grab breakfast downtown, and start looking around Yonge Street and
Queen.  Gotta start somewhere.  She grabbed her purse as she
moved towards the door, shrugging its weight onto her shoulder as she dug into
it for her house keys.  She locked the door, and headed out of her
townhouse to the subway, which would take her down to Union Station.

It was shaping up to be a beautiful day.  The rain of last night had
stopped, and the early morning sun was quickly burning what remained off the
streets and sidewalks.   I only wish this garbage strike would
end!  Christine thought.  If the day gets too much hotter, the
stink is going to be unbearable, never mind the rats.  Toronto was
still in the grips of a six-week long Garbage strike with no end in sight - and
the city was slowly being buried in its own filth.

Christine went to the subway station, and while she waited for the train, went
over her checklist for her purse.  The plastic disposable gloves were
there, as were some partial files.  She put her wallet and keys in her
jeans pockets - zippered pockets, to foil pickpockets.  Lastly, she
checked on her bottle of pepper-spray; it was a black cylinder that could spray
a good stream of the caustic stuff about 20 feet.  It's illegal as hell,
she thought, but I'd be crazy if I go into some of these places the
squatters live without something for protection.

Thinking back, Christine remembered a one-time colleague who did just
that.  They found Rick's body a few days later, dead from multiple stab
wounds in some abandoned building in Cabbagetown.  The police said he
might have scared one of his clients, or maybe run into a gang out for kicks,
or even interrupted a drug deal.  Either way, he was still dead.  Thank
god I live near Steeles and Yonge!  She thought.  I deal with
this stuff too much to have to live with it as well.

Shaking herself from her reverie, she paid her subway token and pushed through
the turnstile.  She headed to the usual platform, and waited.  While
waiting for the train, she tried to avoid, or at least ignore the smell of the
uncollected garbage.  Looking down at the tracks, she could see the rats
moving back and forth.  Some kids - almost teenagers - further down the
platform were even throwing rocks at them.

Soon, the train platform was near capacity, full of people heading to work
throughout the city.  Many were well-dressed, suit-and-tie types who
carried laptops more expensive than Christine's car, a three year old red
Prius.  Maybe one day that'll be me, she thought.  But I
doubt it.

Suddenly, the rats scattered, feeling more than hearing the approaching rumble
of the subway train.  The speakers blared out the train's arrival, and she
boarded, shouldering past the exiting passengers, struggling to find a
seat.  Christine managed to find a seat, next to a young woman with a
young baby and a stroller.  The young woman nodded, and said hello, but
didn't say much more.  Most of the chatter around her was about the
garbage strike, and how Toronto was going to hell.

Christine waited as the Subway went from stop to stop, with more people exiting
and crowding in at every stop, so that by the time she reached the Queen street
station, she was glad to be off.  She was still underground - the subway
exited onto a confusing and extensive series of mezzanines under Toronto’s
streets.   Although the streets smelled of rotting garbage, a good
hundred people smelling of cologne, after-shave and perfume was just as
powerful, if only slightly more pleasant.  She took the escalator up to
street level and blinked her eyes at the sudden sunlight.  Looks like
it’s going to be another scorcher.  She thought.  Just great.

She walked through the crowds, which thinned only slightly as she walked
through the exit and up the steps to street level.  By now, the morning
rush was in full swing, and the streets were awash in the sounds of rushing
traffic, walking crowds of people of all types, and a street musician playing a
guitar for spare change.

Christine sighed, and began the process of looking for the clients on her
list.  At the top of the pile was Eric van Helstrome, white male, twenty
years old.  He was the brother of an old friend.  I wish Angie
could find someone else for this...  If I can find him, it'll be the third
time I've rescued him from the streets in as many years.  Still, I suppose
she doesn't know who else to turn to, the way things are in the Ministry right
now.

Angie - Angela van Helstrome, from the Bay Street van Helstromes - was one of
Christine's oldest childhood friends, back from their early days in high school,
and then throughout their years at Ryerson Polytechnical.  Angie had her
choice of schools, of course - her father made big money, but Angie stood by
Christine, and came to Ryerson to study computer animation, while Christine
studied Social Work.

It was through Angie that Christine met Eric, Angela's brother.  He was a
cute kid, and really likeable - a lot like Angela.  He was smart, and you
could tell he had an imagination - but he at the time had been annoying in the
way only kid brothers could be.  It was about halfway through her third
year of college that he had a psychotic break and was diagnosed with paranoid
schizophrenia - about six months after Angie’s mom had died.  A year
later, Christine graduated, and now, three years later Eric was one of her
clients, one of the people she tried to help get off the streets.

And the worst thing about it, is that his folks, other than Angie, don't
give a rat's ass about him.  Christine thought.  They pay for
his care, when I can find him and convince him clean up and to come in off the
streets, but something always happens that scares him away.  I wish I knew
what.

Christine walked south on Yonge, and stopped just south of Adelaide, outside
one of the ubiquitous McDonalds restaurants that dotted the urban
landscape.  Forcing away her ruminations for a moment, she headed inside
to grab some breakfast.   The line was long - like usual - but she
persevered, and ordered some food.   A few minutes later, she was
sitting at a table in the restaurant, where she wolfed down a couple of
breakfast burritos and an apple juice.

She looked over the files for the day; the rest of the files were
no-brainers.  She knew their turfs, and could probably find them all by noon
or one.  Eric would be harder - whenever he felt someone was getting too
close, he would move, randomly and quickly.  He would be the tough one to
find.  If I can find his friends, I might have a better chance.
I'll save him until last.

With that, Christine gathered her purse, checked its contents one more time,
and then headed back out onto the streets of Toronto, a woman with a mission.

*
*          *

It was late in the day, and Eric was panhandling outside a Subway, on the
corner of Colbourne and Yonge, just south of King Street.   It was
his usual place, about a block and a half from his home - the owner didn’t try
and chase him away unless he became a pest - and he had his hat on the ground
to collect the coins tossed by passersby.  He looked at his hat - it had
maybe $4.50 in it.  I'd better put some of that away.  He
thought.  Eric was a pretty decent panhandler - he had had to learn in his
time on the streets.  It was safer than robbery, and usually didn't get
you in too much trouble with the police.

Suddenly, he heard his friend Norm yelling.  "Hey Eric!"
Although Norm was older than Dave, he was still pretty spry for his age, even
if he was getting worn and frail.  "That social worker lady-friend of
yours is looking for you - you know, the one who helps you out
sometimes.”   He rushed over, narrowly avoiding one of Toronto’s many
Taxi’s - and stood panting in front of Eric.

"What?  Looking for me?  Why?"  She wants to kill
you Eric.  Kill and feast on your insides.  Like we do, Eric.
Eric twitched, and fought against the voices.  He knew people weren't the
ones to be afraid of - it was the Voices he feared, and what they would do to
him if he disobeyed.  She probably wants to get me off the streets
again, he thought.  Like this time will be any different.
His fight with the voices went on for what seemed like an eternity, but which
was in reality only a minute or two.

Norm watched Eric and his internal struggle.   Eric sat there,
twitching as his brain struggled to make sense of whatever he was thinking, and
what Norm had said.   It was kind of like seeing the young man being
tased with low-voltage electric shocks.   "She told me she
needed to talk to you because your dad is real sick.  Your sister called
her - I think you said her name was Christine, last time - and asked her to
find you."  Norm looked sadly at the young man.  "I think
you should talk to her, Eric."

NO! NO! ERIC NO!  The voices screamed in his head, and he
quailed in fear, clutched his head, and rocked back and forth moaning.
"I can't... the voices will whisper...  I've got to go."
Eric struggled with his thoughts.  I can't see her.  He
thought.  The voices would... would...  But... my Dad's sick?
Eric grabbed his hat and its money, and stood, torn between his father and the
voices.

"Eric, calm down!  You're lucky you still have people that care about
you, who want to help.  You've told me about your dad, how all he does is
throw money at a problem, but your sister Angela seems to really care.
Hell, me and Dave, we'll die out here on the streets, and who'll give a damn,
beyond you maybe?  Nobody!  Don't give up the family you have, kid,
until it’s already gone.  It's too precious."  Norm looked
almost angry, and almost pitying.

"But the voices... damn.  I can’t... they‘ll kill...  No!
I'm done listening to them."  Eric shook all over, fighting his own
demons within, and some of the passersby - business folks and students, mostly
- gave the two a wide berth.  Don't do it, Eric!  She'll lie -
they always lie!  Remember the spiders, Eric!  Eric fought,
thinking of his sister and father - and what the spiders meant - and suddenly
the fit passed.  "Maybe," he said to his voices, "But I
don’t care."

Norm smiled, and said "I brought her with me, if you’ll see her - she's
across the street, waiting.  Hey - why don't you give me your hat, and
I'll meet you back at our spot, if you decide to stick it out on the streets
instead of going with her."

"Okay, Norm.  I'll be good.  If my voices let me."
Eric looked a bit more in control, if a bit shaken, and his twitching at unseen
voices looked to be under control for the moment.  he passed the hat to
Norm.  "I figure there's about five bucks there, plus another fifteen
or so I got earlier.  If you guys can, save me some for coffee,
okay."

"Hey, if it keeps you from screaming about spiders all night, we'll save
enough for two coffees."  Norm smiled, and patted Eric on the
shoulder.  "Just listen to her, kid.  If your dad is sick, this
might be your last chance to say what you need to say to him.  Don't give up
on that too easy, okay."

"Okay Norm.  I guess you're right.  Where is she?"
Eric looked around, feeling vulnerable.  Someone is watching us right
now.  He thought.  It could be anywhere.  It could be
anyone.  And then another voice.   It could be US Eric.  We
are everywhere.  Nowhere, and everywhere.  "Damn demon
voices." he said, listening and looking for the unseen speakers.

"Let’s go find her - you come with me, okay?"  It was plain to
Norm that Eric was having a bad time - so he grabbed Eric's arm gently, and led
the young man across the street, helping him avoid the traffic.  Eric,
when clearheaded, was able to navigate through the city quite well, but when
his voices took over, it was like his brain would virtually shut down leaving
him needing to be watched over like a young child.  Norm knew Eric hated
it when that happened - he didn’t like being dependent on others for things
like basic survival - but sometimes he needed it.

Norm led Eric towards a small shop, out of which stepped a pretty young woman,
in heavy blue jeans and a charcoal top.  The woman had brown hair, cut in
a pageboy.  She also looked sweaty and exhausted, her clothes wrinkled and
stained with sweat.  "Lucky for him most people avoid the crazies,
Miss Vallan, instead of messing with them.  Probably saved his life a few
times."

Christine saw Norm and Eric crossing the street towards her, and sighed with
relief.  Thank god I finally found him.   I only thought this
would take a few hours, but it’s taken all frigging day.   It looks
like his pals are still keeping him safe too.   Eric’s file had a
note about Norm and Dave - how they looked out for him - but she didn’t know
much about them - just that they were friends of Eric’s.  They weren’t in
the system, otherwise - just two more people who fell through society’s
cracks.   Christine looked at Norm, and Eric.  "Is he
always this bad?  I've seen him worse once, but is this normal?"

"No.  He's sometimes worse at night.  He says his voices whisper
bad things to him, and he gets so scared he starts to scream, and scream, and
scream.  When it gets that bad, we have to cover his mouth, so the cops
won't come and bother us.  Sometimes he says he's covered with spiders and
stuff, but we can't see them, though to him they're real enough.  Then
other times he's clear, and acts what I suppose people would call normal.
That's on a good day."

"Eric's lucky to have friend like you, Norm."  Christine looked
surprised.  The three times before, when she had rescued Eric from the
streets, he had seemed relatively 'normal' - but today he seemed worse than any
of the times before.

"Yeah, well, we all need to take care of each other down here.  He
helps us plenty too, with the money.  Doesn't drink a damn bit for
himself, either."  Norm looked around, and saw the time on a nearby
LED banner.  "Hey. miss - It's getting on five pm, and I gotta go
meet our friend Dave, before the liquor store closes.  You take care of
him, okay?"

"I will Norm." She said.  Christine wiped the sweat off her
brow, and pulled a bit on her sweat stained shirt, trying to rearrange it to be
a bit more comfortable.  It didn’t help much.   Christine turned
to Eric and saw him rocking back and forth, sitting on a maggot strewn garbage
bag on the sidewalk.  "C’mon Eric.  You don't want to sit
there."   She said, strapped on a pair of disposable latex
gloves.   Her stomach rumbled as she bent to help the young man
up.   Man, I’m hungry.  She thought.  Thirsty too.

Eric, jostled by Christine, seemed to come out of whatever reverie he had been
stuck in, and he allowed himself to be pulled standing by her - he was so
heavy, Christine probably couldn’t have lifted him on her own.  “Hi,
Christine.”  He said.  Eric looked up at her, obviously now
recognising her from way back.  Christine was one of Angela's oldest
friends, and he had known her ever since he was twelve or thirteen years
old.  "Did Angie send you again?  Is my dad going to be
okay?"

"I don't know, Eric.  Your sister told me he was ill - very ill, and
that she needed you to come back with me and get cleaned up, so you could see
him."  Actually, Christine thought, from the way Angie
explained it to me, it’s probably so Eric can go to the funeral, or very near
it.

"I don't know, Christine.  I mean, dad and I....  We've never
got along, and with my voices, I think he hates me.  I know he'd rather I
was never born.  I'm a big embarrassment to the family, and he blames me
for Mom."

"Your mom?"  Christine knew Eric and Angie’s mom had died about
four years ago - but Angie hadn’t spoken about the details other than to say it
was suicide - and Christine had had to push to get even that much.  Eric's
file had even less in it - more evidence of the van Helstrome's family Bay
street influence at work, cutting out unpleasant details that might embarrass
them.  Eric had never talked about his family, before now, and Angie had
filled in only a few of the blanks over the years...  It was apparently a
sore spot for both Angie and Eric.

"When I got sick - I mean, really sick, Dad blamed Mom.  Said it was
because of her - his genes were good - so it must be her fault.  She was
so upset.  She believed him, and they grew apart.  She became really
depressed, and started hearing things too.  She had a nervous
breakdown.  Dad put her in a hospital, an expensive clinic, and it looked
like she was starting to get better.  Then one morning they found her,
dead.  She had hung herself with her bedsheets, and left a note.  In
it, she said the voices wanted me, and she thought if she killed herself - if
she gave herself to the voices - they would be satisfied with her, and leave me
alone."  Eric's face grew puffy with emotion, and he barely held back
some tears.

"It was because of me, she died.  She killed herself to save me, and
the worse part of it all is that the voices didn't care.  They have her,
and they still want me, and we're all going to burn and die and bleed and burst
and rot and ooze and..."  Eric muttered and babbled, and rapidly
became more and more agitated.

"ERIC!" Christine shouted, shaking Eric's shoulders.  "Snap
out of it.  Please!"  Eric recoiled at Christine's touch, gloved
though it was, but managed to calm himself.

"I'm okay, for now.  It's okay."  Eric seemed a little more
calm, but was still agitated and upset by his outburst.

"Okay.  Hey Eric - how about you come have a coffee with me.
I'll explain what your sister told me, and you can decide if you want to come
with me or not."  Christine was a little stunned - she had never
heard the story behind Angie’s mom committing suicide - and the idea of that
horrible note must have scarred Eric in ways she couldn’t even imagine.

"Okay, but you're buying - I gave all my money to Norm."  Eric
smiled, his mood much improved.  He was glad to see Christine, even under
the circumstances.  They hadn't been friends when he was growing up - his
sisters' friends saw him as the brat kid brother - but he had always liked her,
and in the past few years she had always been there if he needed
anything.

The unlikely pair walked into a small diner, and sat in a booth, when a
waitress came over and gasped, holding her breath at the stench wafting from
Eric.  "He'll have to leave, miss.  He's filthy!"

"Just one coffee, waitress?  Then we'll go, I promise, and I'll leave
a good tip, okay?"  Christine smiled.  "It's just for a
minute."

The waitress - her nametag proclaimed her "Nancy" - nodded.
"Okay.  How do you want your coffee?"

"Double-Double."

"Black, no poison." said Eric

Nancy gave Eric an odd look, but went on anyway.  "Here's some
creamers..."  She said, passing Christine a bowl full of the tiny
plastic containers.  Sugar's on the table."

"Thanks.  And you can bring me the bill." said Christine, reaching
for her wallet, hidden away in her zippered pockets.  Shortly, their
coffee arrived, and for a moment they enjoyed it in silence.

The reverie was shattered when Christine spoke.  "Eric, I don't know everything
that's happening with your folks right now, but Angela said your dad had a
heart attack.  It's bad - she doesn't know if he'll live.  He's in
the hospital, and he was asking for you."

"A heart attack?  I don't know - I don't know if I can see
him."  Don't go Eric!  It's a trap!  Remember the
spiders!  "Shut up!"  He said, struggling.
"I'll go, but I have to say goodbye to Norm and Dave.  So they know
I'm all right."

"Okay Eric."  As they finished their coffee, she dropped six dollars
onto the table.  "That should pay the bill, plus extra.  Do you
have far to go?  I can come with you, but we should hurry.  It’s been
a long day, and it can get dangerous here after dark."

"No, not far.  We'll get there soon, easy."

They walked in silence for a few blocks, gradually moving off of the main
streets and into the access lanes around King and Victoria - Eric's Rat
City.  Most of the buildings were old, but some held some of the most
prestigious legal firms in the country, and others like the King Edward Hotel,
were lavishly refurbished and considered quite posh.   And yet their
back lanes and alleys are among the worst you’ll find anywhere in the
city.  It was dangerous at night in Rat city.   Other well-to-do
restaurants dotted the area as well, explaining Eric's pudgy build; the
handouts were good in the area.  As they approached the alley outside the
King Edward where Eric lived, they heard the sounds of a commotion, and the
groan of someone in pain.

They rushed forward to see what was happening - Christine wishing she
hadn't.  A gang of eight or nine youths, ranging from what looked to be
about fourteen years old to perhaps their early twenties, were assembled around
Dave and Norm, kicking and shoving the two homeless men.  One boy had a
jerrycan of gasoline, and was dumping its contents onto the two men, even as
they struggled to their feet and tried to run.  One of the youths held two
bottles of liquor Dave and Norm had bought earlier, and the hat with what remained
of the their day’s take from panhandling.  Christine could tell by their
gang colors they belonged to the Dead Pool - as in ‘a pool of blood’ - a
particularly vicious and violent street gang.

Christine had seen enough - she retreated back around the corner, and grabbed
her can of pepperspay, as terror began to take hold of her.  She tried to
grab for Eric, to pull him into hiding as well - but Eric pulled free of her
and ran towards the group.   What the hell is he doing?
She thought.  He’s going to get us both killed!

Meanwhile, Eric charged.  As he ran towards the gang-members, his hand
slid into his pockets and grabbed his shiv - a sharpened purple
tooth-brush.  "Norm, Dave!  I'm coming!", he yelled - and
then he was amongst them, stabbing and kicking as one of the gang members
tossed the empty jerrycan of gasoline across the alley.  Eric felt his
foot connect between one thug's legs, and heard more than saw the boy go down,
retching in pain.  He also felt his shiv strike hard and slide deep into
the right shoulder of one of the youths.  The young thug screamed in
agony.

Once his surprise attack was over, the gang reacted with quick violence, and
Eric was knocked to the ground by one thug, even as the rest of the gang kicked
him repeatedly with hard-toed boots.  He felt the fingers of his left hand
get crushed under one of the gang members hard-soled boots, and could feel the
pain of the kicks and punches he was taking.  The pain made him double
over and scream, and then collapse, retching, as one of the young men's boots
caught him squarely between his legs.

The beating, the kicking continued, and deep inside, Eric knew that he was
going to die, alone except for the voices, unless he could get away.  The
oddness of the thought surprised him - how could he get away from these young
killers, when he couldn't stand, let alone run?  And yet, he could feel
something, although he wasn't sure what it was.

I have to escape...or die! I need to get Away.  GET AWAY!  And
without really knowing what he was doing, he reached inside, towards what he
didn't know, and felt something touch him inside, in the core of his being -
something cold and harsh - but so very right.  Suddenly, the world
lurched, and Eric felt a moment of brief but utter cold.  He reeled,
stunned and dizzy, from the fatigue of whatever he had just done.  Barely
conscious, he still felt the burning pain in his ribs and hand, and his faced
and torso were bloody and bruised.  He felt a surge of bile, and vomited
all of the days’ food in what seemed like a stream.

Gathering his bearings, and fighting back nausea, he looked around.  It
was dark - and except for a dim silver light that seemed to come from nighttime
stars far away, he was alone, floating in a vast, featureless void.  Even
his voices seemed silent for the moment.

Then a chilling thought passed Eric's mind.  Am I dead?  I don't
think I'd still hurt, if I was dead.  "I can't be dead.  If
I was dead, the voices would be waiting, right?"  He said to
himself.  "I must be somewhere else.  But where am
I?"  The words poured out, and Eric shutting his mouth as quick as
they were said.  The words sounded flat here, like they had been
electronically altered to be that way.  Eric had the strangest feeling
that maybe words weren’t natural here.  Even the sound of himself panting
for breath sounded muted and dull.  Perhaps words are redundant
here.  Wherever here is.

Curious, Eric opened his mind, to see if he was right.  It was hard,
because he had spent almost every day of the last four years trying to hide
from his thoughts.  Still, he persevered, and was startled to hear two new
voices in his mind - one, the same one he had heard last night - the friendly
female voice who spoke the frustratingly familiar sing-song babble, and the
other a simple quiet presence in his mind.

Tir Ballas Mi Condir.  Arrafa Mi Condir.  Eric didn't know
what it meant, but it conveyed a sense of fear, and of need.  It was a
woman's voice, and it seemed she was in a great deal of trouble.  The
voice seems so real, He thought.  Not real like my voices, but
real, like a person - only as if she were a long distance off.  Just like
the second person - the quiet one.

Eric realized he was shivering.  It was cold - very cold - wherever he
was, and now that the panic and adrenaline of the brief melee and beating had
worn off, he was quickly getting chilled.   "Am I dreaming?
Am I hallucinating?"   He looked about, and listened,
smelled.  It seemed real enough.

"Whatever I did, I have to try to get back.  I'm probably going into
shock, and I'll die here in this cold if I don't."  Then, with a
tearing pain in his head, he heard his Voices, only this time they seemed
stronger - more real as well - like the woman's voice he heard begging for
help.   Die of the cold, Eric, or die by our hands.  You
are in our realm now, and we are coming for you.

In their realm now!  My fucking voices?  Am I in Hell?
Eric panicked, and tried to remember what he had done to get wherever he was,
but his concentration failed him at first, with his fear, and the pain of his
injuries.  He could feel the beings the voices belonged to getting closer,
their stench - like the smell of fouled meat, growing stronger.  His fear
was strong, but he persevered, and a few seconds later, once again felt the
brief sensation of utter cold.  As he left whatever realm he had been in,
he felt more than heard the anger and frustration of the voices - and whatever
being or beings the voices belonged to.  We will have you
Eric.  One day, sooner or later, everyone comes to us.  Everyone,
Eric.

*
*          *

Christine could hear the pitiable, agonized screams of Eric’s friends getting
the shit kicked out of them by the gang members - she heard scuffling, grunts
and swearing as the gang maneuvered to beat and maim Eric and his
friends.   I need to do something!  I have to!  She
thought, but try as she might, she couldn’t.  Christine was so scared she
was paralyzed, terrified and shaking.

She hovered there, between panic and acting for several seconds, until she
heard a set of screams, and heard a young man scream, and another yell.
‘He fucking stabbed Mick - kill the cock-sucking mother fucking
freak!’   The sounds of kicking and beating increased, and she could
hear Eric making pained moans and weak mewling sounds.

Christine stood at the corner of the alley, shaking in fear.  Holy fuck
holy fuck holy fuck. Was all that was running through her mind - she
couldn’t think - terror overrode every other thought and action.
Her hand was frozen on her cell phone - but she was unable to dial it, or even
hit send.

Peering around the corner, she saw the entire gang circling and kicking
something on the ground, all the while screaming obscenities at the prone
figure...  It was Eric they were attacking - she could see Norm and Dave a
few dozen feet away, trying to crawl away - without much success.
Then suddenly, the gang members were silent and stopped and then slowly backed
away.

One muttered "Jesus - where'd he go?" and another "Screw that -
let's get the hell outta here."  They muttered to each other for
about a few seconds, and almost as an afterthought, one of them - one with a
skull tattoo on the right side of his neck - lit a match, and tossed it onto
Eric's nearly unconscious friends, then turned and ran.

The spilled gasoline exploded into flame, punctuated by the bloodcurdling
screams of Eric's friends. Their screams of agony were intense - indescribable
- the stuff that nightmares are made of.  Christine stood frozen in shock
and panic, as the gang members ran past her into the street and were gone.

The smell of burning meat and gasoline hit her like a wall, and she fell to her
knees, retching uncontrollably.    Everything she ate in the
last day, came up all of a sudden, and her throat was left raw and hoarse.
Christine’s mind was overwhelmed - frozen - with the violence she had just
witnessed - and just about the only thought she had was Eric - Where’s Eric?
She called out for him with her raspy voice, but she was still coughing up
pieces of breakfast and her voice wasn’t very loud.

Christine slowly inched into the alley, and saw the flames still burning Eric's
friends.  She looked about to see if there was anything she could use to
put out the fire, but everything nearby was covered in gasoline.  She wasn’t
sure if she should be thankful - but Eric’s friends had stopped
screaming.  They’re probably dead, she was able to process.  Thank
god they stopped screaming.  Christine could already hear sirens
coming from every direction around - and there wasn’t a crowd gathered at the
moment...

Suddenly, Eric was there, groaning and spitting blood.
One moment he was nowhere to be seen - the next, he appeared from said nowhere
like he teleported in.  He had blood and nasty dark bruises on his face,
and looked like he was shivering.   What the fuck!?  She
thought.  It doesn’t matter - we gotta get out of here!

"We gotta go Eric.  We gotta go NOW”  Christine said, dragging
him out of the alley - her adrenaline was crazy, and she pulled him with almost
superhuman strength out of the alley - out of that horrible place, while they
were both still alive.  Eric looked panicked, and felt weak as a kitten -
but Christine was strong enough - for now - for the both of them.
She dragged him up Victoria street, to Queen and turned right.

“Wha... what happened?”  Eric asked.

“You’ve been hurt.  I’ve got to get you to the hospital.”

As the two of them left the alley, Christine grabbed his arm to lend some
support; he was hurt, if feeling him wince was any signal.   She led
him away from the forming crowd, and deeper into the back alleys behind the
Hotel.  It's only a few blocks to Saint Michaels' hospital.
She thought.  I can get him there, easy.  From behind them, a
fire alarm started sounding, sending its urgent peal through the night.
It almost drowned out the awful sound of Dave and Norm burning.  Almost.

Chapter 3 - Escapes

The two men descended slowly down a flight of stone stairs.  Far below the
surface, their path was lit only by a globe of un-wavering flame held by the
smaller of the two men, and the accompanying screams of the madmen and women
who "resided" in the House of Broken Dreams.

The two men made an odd pair - as odd as their surroundings.  The taller of
the two men was beefy and muscular, with unkempt black hair and clothes that
bespoke his station as turnkey and jailor.  His mud-brown eyes and pasty
olive skin declared him a Madragan, though where his loyalties lay was anyone’s
guess.  He looked as if he'd been working the House of Broken Dreams for
many years, and it showed in his face, and the short cudgel he carried.

The other man was an atypical Valdan, with a short build, and blonde hair the
color of summer straw.   He was younger than the Madragan, and
although most Valdan’s towered over their neighbours to the east, he was
shorter by a good half-foot - but his personal presence made him seem taller in
some way.  He carried himself well, with an aura of one used to wielding
power and command, that went beyond his mere physical presence.   His
clothes were richly adorned - velvets and fine wool, dyed red, topped with a
fine white mantle, and a belt of golden cord, as was appropriate for his
station as a Priest of Isundal, God of the Sun.  He wore finely tooled,
fur-lined leather boots and his hands were covered with fur-trimmed
leather gloves.  While one hand held the globe of un-wavering magelight,
the other covered his mouth and nose with a scented cloth.

The two strange companions arrived at the bottom of the steps, after passing
numerous landings, and came face to face with a sturdy oaken door.

"This woman - the one snooping about, the one you drugged - she is beyond
this door?"  The shorter, perfumed man asked; he had to remove his
scented handkerchief from his face to speak clearly, and the smell hit him like
a hammer.  He coughed and choked, shaken visibly by the stench.

"Yes, your Grace.  Are you well?"

The man nodded after a moment.  “Open it.  I would speak with our
unwelcome guest.”

Inside the cell, the first thing they noticed was the stench of fresh vomit,
urine and excrement.   Hanging from four metal cuffs was a mature
woman with long black hair and light woollen clothes, both fouled in her body's
wastes.  She moaned, and rolled her head, oblivious to the two men.

"Is she awake?"  The short man asked in harsh voice.

"We'll soon see, your Grace."  The turnkey said, reaching for a
pail of filthy water.  "Sometimes the Dreamers, they pull people
in.  Especially the weak or weakened; they start sharing the things they
see.  Some go mad because of it, if they aren't mad already.  And I
gave her enough audorin root to drug a horse."  The Turnkey took the
filthy water, and splashed it over the woman's face and torso, washing some of
the vile smelling stuff away, and leaving her face a dark greasy smear in the
magelight, and her green and brown woollen clothes even more of a sodden mess.

"Wake up, you!"  The turnkey barked.  After a moment, he
slapped her across the face, hard.  "No luck, your Grace.  The
Dreamers have her now, and she might not wake for hours, or be sane when she
does."

"Then I suppose we do this the hard way.  Good. I always did like the
hard way better.”  The richly clad man put his handkerchief away, and
looked over the wretched woman chained to the wall before him.   She
didn’t look like much.  “This will take some time.  Remain here, and
be quiet until I am finished."

The turnkey grinned; he liked the "hard way" too.  "Yes
your grace.  I will be here for you, should you need me."  He
tapped his short cudgel against the palm of his free hand, smiling nastily.

"I hardly think a drugged woman in chains is going to require your club,
turnkey, but still, I might have a use for it anyway.  Now be
silent."  Slowly, the Priest sank into a light trance, and began to
concentrate.  Slowly his consciousness expanded, at first to take in the
small cell, and then to include the turnkey and the shackled woman.
Blocking the turnkey's thoughts from his mind, he began the focus on the woman
- she called herself Maeve.  Maeve Varda?  He thought.  Who
else would the Council send?   The Priest had never met Maeve,
but he knew her from reputation, and for the Council of Bishops to send Maeve
Varda to investigate the House of Broken Dreams, meant that the Council knew -
or suspected - more than he would like.  They may have even begun to
suspect him, which was not good news.  Her thoughts began to spill into
his mind as he began to filter through the mix of madness and clear thought,
searching out what he needed.  Now, he thought.  It's only
a matter of time.

*
*          *

“Ladies of Mercy, Help me!”  Maeve cried to the other mind.  “Please,
Help me!”  She could sense him - she thought it was a him, at least.
There was no answer, and the contact was broken.

Damn!  She thought, and then the group-madness of the mage-born
Dreamers swept her away.  The world seemed, for a moment, to cease to be,
and time and distance seemed to have little relevance.  She thought she
could hear their minders through the swirling chaos, the Dreamers caretakers,
Lady Delirium's priests and priestesses.  And in this case, also the
Hserinyar, the priests of Hrask.

At first, she found
herself floating in a starry void - a cold, seemingly empty place devoid of
everything but starlight.  It was different from the Void she found when
she first learned the magic of Words.   Although at first it seemed
empty, she slowly realized this void was filled with meanings and beings she
might never guess to understand; invisible beings that seemed inimical to
everything she had ever loved and believed in.  She didn't know how she
knew all this - she just did.  Perhaps the Dreamers knew it?

She felt her bones turn to ice as these same beings began to turn their
attention upon her.  They were invisible, but gave off a presence of size,
and strength.  They were vast, and perhaps innumerable, and their gaze
felt like fire.  It seemed to burn, burn as if the marrow of her bones was
melting or she was being dipped in molten bronze.  They were very
terrifying and cold, and she could tell they hated her; hated her life, hated
the fact she existed.  They came closer then, and although she couldn't
see them, she felt and heard what could only be claws - ice cold claws -
against her neck.  Paralysed with fear, she did the only thing she could -
she screamed - and then the void was gone, and she was elsewhere.

Afternoon sunlight drifted into the long, high-ceilinged room from narrow
windows set even higher up on the stone and stucco walls.  The sunlight
was caught in the dust in the air, and glowed, almost from within, as if the
dust itself glowed.  It lay in pools around people, men and women, boys
and girls, young and old.  They were lying in beds - row after row of them
- beside which were men and women, whispering to each of them, in a strange and
meaningless tongue.  She realized these must be the Dreamers.

Maeve knew what everyone knew about the Dreamers - that it was some sort of
sleeping-illness, that it could happen to anyone, male or female, and that it
usually affected the young, around the age of puberty.  One day, your
child is a young, vital person growing into an adult, and then he or she never
wakes from their night’s sleep.  In Valris, they called Dreamers
"Children of the Goddess," and gave them to the Goddesses' temple to
be cared for.  Except for here - in the House of Broken
Dreams.   In Madragoor they were Dreamers, and were given to the care
of private sanatoriums, such as this place.  In Iranor, they were
considered cursed, and sometimes left on the scorching dunes to die.  They
very rarely lived past forty years of age, even when well cared for.

The Dreamer’s illness only affected humans - never Wolfen or Harvon, and
certainly not the Hserites.  From what Maeve had heard, the Dreamer illness
was unheard of from the Stoneborn as well.  It was strange that the
Dreamers illness never touch the other races of Mercia, and was a mystery that
remained unsolved since the dawn of their recorded history.  Whatever the
illness was, it was incurable by even magical means, and its effects were all
too plain.  A Dreamer would often talk at random - meaningless babble,
really - in some unknown tongue.  They never woke up, even when chilled,
burned, poked or prodded, even if done unto death.

Maeve had heard tales - horrific tales - of what some people had done to their
loved ones, frantic to have them awaken and resume their life.  These same
people who couldn't accept that illness had stolen their child, their sibling,
or their friend, and performed terrible acts on their loved one's body in the
hopes of shocking them out of their perpetual trance.  It had never
happened to her or her family, but it was still a terrifying thought.
Maeve hoped herself to one day to have a husband, and children too, and the
fear that one of her children might be a Dreamer was a constant fear; it wasn't
until a child reached twenty years of age that the danger was thought to be
over.  Certainly, Maeve had never heard of anyone that age succumbing to
the Dreaming.

Still, she thought, that doesn't explain where I am.  It should
be the middle of the night, shouldn't it?  Am I crazy?  Or is this
some of what the Dreamers see?  She moved towards one of the beds, to
ask one - odd, because the Dreamers never moved, and never spoke except in
their sing-song babble.

As she approached the bed, she got a good look at a Dreamer.  He was
young, about 25, and male, with the bronzed skin of an Anorian.  One of
the few that survived the desert, she guessed.  His hair was black,
which was common amongst that desert people, and his minders had kept him
clean-shaven.

It shocked her when he spoke to her.

Unmoving except for his mouth, he spoke clearly.  "You all come to
us, Maeve.  Everyone comes to us in the end."

Maeve didn't know what he meant - but the tone of the young man shook
her.  It sounded like it already knew.

The Anorian Dreamer rose suddenly, as if a puppet on invisible strings, his
mouth opening to reveal row after row of serrated teeth.  His jaws were
unnaturally, inhumanly large and his slavering, disfigured maw spewed forth
both bilious green ooze and trickles of blood.  His eyes began to seep
blood, and suddenly burst like squashed grapes, and added their own ichor to
the ooze dribbling down the inhuman creatures' cheeks.

Shrieking, Maeve reached for her shortsword, and clutched at air, her reflex
action winning over her memory of being disarmed several days ago.  The
toothy horror rose from its bed to approach her, his vile maw slavering and
almost splitting the head of the dreamer in two with its inhuman jaws.

Maeve stepped back, out of his - its - reach.  "How do you know my
name?  What do you mean, in the end, or all of us?  What in the
Goddesses name is going on?"

Maeve stepped back, almost tripping on another Dreamer's bed, when it too arose
from its un-natural sleep.  This one was a girl - a red-headed Valdan
beauty, whose sweet, husky voice was totally out of place in her lamprey-like,
toothy, sucking maw.  Her hands outstretched also had lamprey-mouths, and
when she spoke, it came from all three mouths at once - in a kind of horrific
chorus.

"We live in you, Maeve, in all of you.  But most of all, we live in
the weak - the weak and the wounded.   You belong to us,
Maeve...  Just ask your brother."

"Nile?  What do you mean!?  Nile is dead, dead these last four
years."  Maeve's world spun, as she remembered her brother's
death.  "You can't have him - he's gone."

By now, maybe six or eight of the Dreamers had arisen from their beds, and now
they spoke as one.  "Gone, maybe, but his fears, his anger, it lives
with us now.  We are a part of him, and he of us.  And of you too
Maeve...  Do you remember your fear or your anger... your
hate?"   Unbidden, the memories of that horrific day came
rushing back in a flood, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

It was summer, and Maeve and her brother Nile were walking across the
cobble-stone square to meet their mother Gillian, after her days' work at the
Courthouse.  Their mother Gillian had worn Magistrates' Black for 14 years
- almost all of Niles life.  Maeve wore an embroidered blue cotton dress,
which she had decorated herself in her time off, and carried a basket of fruit,
bread, and meat she had bought at the market.  Nile wore the standard kilt
most children wore in Valris, as well as a light brown linen shirt, stained
green from the grass where they had taken their lunch.

Although it was late in the day, the sun was still far from setting, and people
passed everywhere in the town square, heading to and fro.  Suddenly, the
crowd parted to reveal a man - a Hserite man who had obviously fallen to the
Call - indeed, had been swept away by it.  His skin was brownish-green,
and scaled like a lizard's, and his tongue, although once human, was now
forked.  Those who fell to the Call of Hrask frequently became as such,
and were known as the Fallen.

He was dressed in heavy garb - brown breeches and knee-length boots, a light
brown woollen shirt, and a full cloak.  Maeve clutched for her short,
leaf-bladed sword, and realized she had left it at home, along with her pistol
and other weapons.  Unfortunately, the cloaked man had not.

In Maeve's seven years as an investigator - some said spy - for the Askelinian
church, she had made some powerful enemies.  The Rillian Fey wanted her
dead for infiltrating their Court and carrying away sensitive information.
The Imoden of the Yaskar Harvon wanted her dead for defiling the burial sites
of their dead ancestors with her presence.  And not the least of which,
the Hserites wanted her dead for both reasons, and for stealing an Al'keran
from a Hserite priest.

Al'keran were as rare as Dragon's teeth, for that was what they were -
carefully sculpted, enruned, and enchanted - but still basically a Dragon's
tooth.  That particular tooth had been taken millennia ago from a baby
dragon, and now long thought dead, but whose holiness and power lived on in its
grisly relics.   She had turned over the Al'keran to the Church, and
then forgotten about it.  Until today.

Disdaining the use of magic, the Fallen raised a silvered pistol - she could
still see the inlay, the decorative gold enhancements, and the polished cherry
wood grip.  Maeve tried to shove Nile away from her, but there was no
time.  The pistol fired, and its deadly dart flew towards her - until Nile
shoved her rudely away, saving her life - but ending his own.

The Hserite killer turned and fled, his cloak billowing out behind him.
Maeve screamed, and grabbed at Nile, his body already falling to the
ground.  She plucked at the five-inch long dart of steel in his chest, and
saw its poisoned tip.  Nile's lifesblood pumped from his chest's wound all
over her, but he was already dead.  When Maeve had the presence of mind to
try and pursue the killer, he was already gone, and beyond magical means to
find.

That bullet was meant for me!  Her heart screamed at the unfairness
of what had happened.  It was her enemy - he should have taken her, not
poor Nile.  She cried out loud the fears and sorrow of her heart, and was
soon joined by her Mother and other officers of the Court.   Later, she
claimed that he hadn't spoken a word, had said nothing - but somehow, the
Dreamers knew the truth.  They knew what he said, and it burned her very
soul.  "We take back what is ours, Maeve Varda."  The
Fallen said, his lingering sibilance ever present.  "The day is
coming, we will take back everything.  Interfere again, and others you
care about will suffer - suffer beyond all imagining."

It was after that, that Maeve lost her faith.

"And it was then you became ours, Maeve."  The shock of their
horrible speech brought her back, out of her reverie and back into the real
world - or at least the world within the minds of the Dreamers.

"You sick bastards!  How could you know that?  I told no
one!  No one!"  Maeve cried the last two words, tears pouring
down her cheeks.

"We told you, Maeve.  The weak, and the wounded."  By now,
there were at least a hundred of the horrific Dreamers standing about her,
wailing their speech from ruined, fanged mouths, and other horrific orifices.
It was too much.  Maeve screamed, and ran.

As she ran, it seemed as if the floor fell away from beneath her feet, and she
felt herself fall, and be swept away.  Her stomach churned at the speed
she seemed to be moving.  Don't black out.  She thought.
If you black out, you'll either die or go mad.   She didn't
realize that it was already too late.

Maeve's swift movement suddenly slowed, and she found herself stumbling along
the ground and chained by the wrists, in a line of what seemed to be slaves or
prisoners being marched across a large cobbled square towards an enormous stone
pyramid - a Temple Ziggurat.  The dry heat hit her like a hammer after
Valris' temperate but wet winter, and she could feel her cold sweats instantly
dry, and her skin begin to warm under the light wool clothes she had been
wearing.

I'm in Hserin.  Great Lady of Mercy, I'm in Hserin.  Maeve was
rudely jerked from her reverie by the lash of a whip that cut through her brown
wool shirt and opened up her back like a knife, and a cuff to the head that
left her dazed and dizzy.   She screamed in pain, and was rudely
jerked out of line.  Voices chattered, and she felt her manacles being
opened, before she was thrown to the ground before a short Valdan man, dressed
in the garb of a priest - a Bishop - of Isundal.

Still stunned by the force of the head blow, she lay on the hot cobblestones of
the square, her eyes trying to focus, and her brain trying to concentrate on
what was happening.  What in the Seven Hells is going on?  Why is
this happening to me?  This can’t be happening!

Maeve felt herself being picked up by two burly men, and half-walked,
half-carried up the side of the vast pyramid.  Her head ached, her back
hurt - all she wanted to do was sleep, but even that was denied her.  As
she climbed, her head cleared, and she looked around.

She was climbing - being dragged, rather - up a huge stepped pyramid, at least 10
times the height of a man.  From the near-summit of the pyramid, Maeve
could see row after row of what seemed to be slaves, Human, Wolfen, and Harvon
being dragged, whipped, and marched towards the very pyramid she was
ascending.  They looked like ants, and they were fighting every step of
the way.

Suddenly, she realized why they were fighting.  The pyramid was undeniably
a vast temple, and the Hserinyar worshipped dark gods - the greatest of which
was Hrask and his mate, the lost Tiamat, and their altars were always
hungry.  I am NOT going to die on an Altar to Hrask!  She
thought.  I'll kill myself first!   She struggled, trying
to escape the grasp of her captors, but the two men carrying her upwards had
grips like iron, and she moved inexorably upward.  When she reached the
top of the ziggurat, she saw the grisly remains of those that had come before
her, and smelled the stench of burning flesh.

Bald-headed priests of Hrask were cutting the hearts out of their still-living
sacrifices, and burning the bloody organs with incense on pyres as they prayed
to their horrific God.  Burly temple servants grabbed the corpses from the
mounds where they were piled, and tossed them down through a circular shaft at
the pyramid's top.  As Maeve was dragged over to the sacrificial altar,
she caught a glimpse of what the Hserinyar were tossing the bodies to, and if
she had been afraid before, she was terrified by what she saw.

At the bottom of the shaft were two huge, winged reptilian forms waiting, sleek
and deadly, to devour the bodies of those thrown from above.  Baby
Dragons? Maeve thought.  Impossible!  They must be the
Dragon-Steeds.  What else could they be?  There hasn't been a baby
Dragon born for over 300 years, let alone two!

Then Maeve was pulled away from her view, and thrown rudely onto the
blood-soaked altar, and she realized the danger she was in.  As the two
men who carried her up the Pyramid grappled her arms, two others grabbed her
legs.  As she struggled, she cried out a prayer, but there was no one
there to answer.  She had given up her faith the day her brother
died.   Just Hrask's priests and their bloody knives.  She
closed her eyes as the knife fell, and prayed, regardless.  The world
lurched.

Without warning, Maeve found herself back in the cell in the House of Broken
Dreams.  The Priest - no, the Bishop - from her vision of Hserin was
there, holding a ball of unwavering magical light.  There was a poorly
dressed, burly, mush-faced lackey carrying a short but heavy looking club with
him, and he carried a flask of liquid.  There was a foul taste in her
mouth - sometime during the Dreamer's ordeal she had vomited, and
embarrassingly, she could feel her fouled lower extremities as well.  The
smell made her gag.

"Ah.  I see you are back among us."  The Bishop said in
cultured tones.  "You were away for a while, with the Dreamers."

"Who are you?" Maeve demanded.

"My name is Vargas Elm.  I am also the person who pulled you back
from the brink of insanity, and who awakened you from your nightmarish
dream.  You will refer to me as Milord, or the jailer here will feed you
your teeth."

Maeve gritted her teeth, and looked at the Turnkey with the cudgel.  He
smiled, and hefted his club, looking all too eager to do the Bishop's
bidding.  "Yes Milord."  She muttered, her anger
growing.  "May I ask why you bothered to save me after I was beaten,
drugged, and then imprisoned here, Milord?"  Maeve was fairly sure
she already knew the answer.

"I'm sure you can guess, little spy.  I want information, and I will
have it.  You will give it to me freely, and you will go free.  If
you make me take it from you, you will suffer horribly before I allow you to
die."  He waited for a moment to let the thought sink in.

He's holding mage-light, so it follows he must be a sorcerer skilled in
Sight, as well as Mind if he halted the insanity the Dreamers thrust upon me,
Maeve reasoned.  If I tell him what he asks, I may gain a chance to
escape and finish my mission.  Hell.  She thought.  Any
chance is better than no chance, even if he lied about letting me go free.
"I will answer your questions, Milord."

"Good."  Vargas smiled, but looked to Maeve somewhat
disappointed.  "You are Maeve Varda - one of the spies and watchdogs
for the Council of Bishops, I believe - that much I was able to drag from your
mind.  Why were you sneaking about a Madhouse?  What does the council
know - or what does it suspect is going on here?”

Maeve coughed, and gathered her voice.  She tried to say yes, or anything
that would sound believable other than the truth, but when she opened her
mouth, the words spilled forth in a torrent, and she knew she had been placed
under a truth-spell.

"I was investigating a rumor that the Dreamers in Northern Orvan were
being studied, but at that point I didn't know by who.  The Council wanted
to know who, and why, and towards what purpose they worked, Milord, but I
believe they suspect nothing."

"Ah...  And you have discovered something, I suspect.  What do
you know, so far?"   The Bishop stroked his short goatee with
one hand, scowling.

"I know that the followers of Lady Delirium are for some reason taking
orders from agents of the Hserinyar, and that you, Milord Bishop are one of the
Hserinyar's agents - which is enough to have you all put to death if I get
free."  Maeve grimaced  "... but I doubt I'll ever see the
open sky again, at least not while I still live."

"I promised you will be free, Maeve Varda - as free as a bird.  If
you answer my questions, you will find that although you may find me
reprehensible, I keep my promises.   Your speech is odd - you are not
Madragan by birth, are you?"

"Both Valdan and Madragan, Milord.  My father emigrated to Valris
many years ago.  I have been in Madragoor for many years though, and know
it as well or better than my homeland."  Maeve thought back to her
youth in Valris; the rolling, mist covered hills and deep forests.  Valris
was a beautiful country, with a frontier rustic charm that Madragoor lacked,
locked in its focus of gathering wealth at all costs as it was.  At the
moment, she didn’t think she would live long enough to see either of her
homelands again.

"You are an Askelinian, then?"  Vargas asked.  "You
follow the Lord Skyblind, and the Ladies of Mercy?  What did you expect to
find in the house of Lady Delirium."

"I used to be an Askelinian, and proud of it."  Maeve's heart
quailed as she heard the truth.  "Now I'm just a spy for the
Church."  Maeve swallowed some of the foul bile that had remained in
her mouth, and cleared her throat.  "I didn't know what to expect
here, but it seems like I've walked into a nest of snakes."  Maeve sneered.
"If we are to exchange pleasantries, Milord, may I ask why you wear the
garb of our faith, and why the Hserinyar are interested in with the
Dreamers?"

"You may ask. I am nominally a Bishop of Isundal, and a member of the
Council, albeit one not currently in favor.  But as one grows older and
advancing age begins to creep up upon a person, one’s priorities begin to
change.  Let us just say the Hserinyar offered me what the Council of
Bishops and the Askelinian faith could not, and leave it at that.  Now...
what do you know?"  Vargas looked like he was losing his patience,
but still remained calm.

Maeve tried to resist, to hold back at least a little information - something
that might give her an edge, should she escape, but could not.  Damn
that truth-spell!   She found herself babbling everything she
knew.

"I know the Hserinyar and the servants of Lady Delerium in Orvan are for
some unknown reason working together, though I don't know why.   They
seem to be attempting to gather here all the Mageborn Dreamers they can find,
under the guise of normal Madhouses, where ill Dreamers would normally be
sent."  She took a breath, and continued.  "The priests and
priestesses whisper to the Dreamers, and listen to their sing-song babble, and
then some of the Dreamers disappear - the Mageborn ones - end up here, in the
House of Broken Dreams."

The Bishop smiled nastily. "Then you know very little, Maeve Varda.
Shall I tell you the whole story?  Perhaps another time, I think.
Suffice it to say that we are close - very close - to achieving total victory
over the Gods of Men.  Turnkey, dose her with some of that audorin root
elixir you brought with you.  I don't want her leaving this cell before I
speak with the mistress of the House.  The rituals must continue."

"Yes Your Grace."  The turnkey nodded, and withdrew a vial of
liquid from a leather belt pouch, and advanced on Maeve.

"What happened to going free if I answered your questions?"
Maeve said, trying to turn her head away from the turnkey and his vial of
drugged liquor.

The turnkey grabbed her head with the hand with the vial, and punched her hard
in the stomach with his other.  As Maeve gasped in pain, he grabbed her
head roughly, held it upright, and quickly poured the contents of the vial down
her throat, holding her nose and jaw closed until she swallowed.

Maeve coughed, trying to hack up the vile substance, and tried to speak, but
couldn't.  I am in serious trouble here, She thought.  What
in the Goddess's names am I going to do?

"Turnkey," Vargas said.  "I want you to make sure she
doesn't leave this room, for the rest of her miserable life.  She is to
remain here until the day she dies - and you may use her in any fashion you
wish."

The turnkey grunted, and smiled - he was missing more than a few teeth.
"Yes, Your Grace - thank you, Your Grace."  He leered at Maeve
and she felt scared of what the next few days might bring.

"I will leave you with this, Maeve Varda, since you will not be leaving
this house alive.  I am looking for something - something only the
Mageborn Dreamers can find for me.  We seek Hrask's Mate - The lost
Tiamat."

Maeve's stomach lurched at the words, and she nearly vomited,
again.   "But how...?   What happened to 'I keep my
promises' you bastard!"  Maeve yelled at the sorcerer garbed as a
priest - a priest of her own faith.  "As free as a bird!"
Maeve didn't expect him to answer, but he turned to her and smiled.

"I hear there is great freedom, in madness.  Enjoy your freedom while
you have it, Maeve Varda."  Vargas took his scented cloth, and
covered his mouth once again.  "Come turnkey, we have a long climb
ahead of us, and I must speak with the Mistress of the House."

Maeve hung from her chains as the door closed, and the light drifted away with
the footsteps of the Bishop and the Turnkey, leaving her once again in
darkness.  Lost Tiamat!  Great Goddess - if Hrask is ever reunited
with his mate, it would be disastrous.  It could be the end of everything!
Anxiously, she once again tried her bonds - and once again she was unable to
move.   I have to get out of here!  She thought.  Think!

Maeve thought of plan after plan, discarding them all - the drug induced haze
of the audorin root was making her confused and dizzy - and what good were her
powers when she was drugged anyway?  She couldn't move - so what good were
her vaunted skills?  Neither were worth a damn, at the moment.  All she
could do was wait for a chance to escape; one would come - the only question
was would it come in time?

Maeve hung there, in the darkness for what seemed like hours, drifting into and
out of consciousness, when her weakened senses once again sensed the wave of
mental anguish projected by the Dreamers.  At first it lingered around the
back of her head like a stealthy watcher, just barely noticed.  Soon,
though it built in strength, and she could feel it pressing against her mind.
She tried to resist, but it was impossible - she was too drugged, and too weak.

Suddenly, the cell was gone and Maeve was falling, from a great height.
She knew, somehow, deep inside she was still sane, but whether this was real,
or some magically inflicted illusion she couldn't say.

It was night again, and Maeve could see two of Mercia's three moons in the sky;
the bright amber-red flame of Thuria, and the mist coloured silver glow of
Doviar, the middling moon.  Maeve felt cool wind whip past her face, and
clutch at her clothes and long black hair, and realized she was falling from a
great height, and she could hear the whispering of the Dreamers in her mind,
even over the scream of the wind.

Taking a quick glance down, she saw a rough coastline, narrowing to a deep
harbour next to a port city.  Well, I'm still in Valris.  That's a
relief I guess; It could have been Rillian, or Madragoor.  It was only
then she realized how high she was, and felt her gorge rise.   She
gritted her teeth against the cold, and continued falling.  I wonder if
I'll die instantly?  She thought, struggling to not give into the
madness of her situation.  No!  It was impossible!
"I can't die here!  I'm chained in a cell!" she screamed, the
uncaring wind whipping her words away as she said them.

She fell, and fell, and the wind carried her inland, somewhat north of the
city, and Maeve realized that simply wishing it so was not going to end this
waking nightmare.  She saw an open field where a farmer had been growing
corn, the green stalks and yellow ears rustling in the wind.  I never
expected to die on a farm, she thought, and then all thought left as she
hit ground.

She could feel bones snapping, and her insides rupturing, but like it was
happening to someone else, like a shadow superimposed over her.  It was
odd, the duality of the pain - happening to her, and also to someone else - and
then it was over.  As she lay there on the ground, bloody and broken, she
had one last thought before blackness overtook her.  Funny.
She thought.  I thought dying would hurt more.

*
*          *

As Bishop Vargas Elm climbed up the long stairs from the lower dungeons, he
mused on what had just happened.   Maeve Varda’s presence meant that
the Council of Bishops must be suspicious, which means I have precious little
time remaining.  Either I will find Lost Tiamat in the next few weeks -
preferably sooner - or I will have to flee Valris in failure.  He
shuddered a bit, for his Hserinyar masters did not hesitate to show their
displeasure to those who failed at their given tasks.   For a moment
his mind pondered the various tortures and dark fates that might be his if he
did not succeed - and discarded them equally as quickly - his dark arts had shown
him the reward to be given to him and Mistress Awai by Hrask himself, should he
succeed.    We would will be young again.  I will have
might beyond all comprehension, and together Awai and I will have Hrask’s
favor, and be his Hands upon this world.  Awai will glory in the fear and
madness that will descend upon the lands of Men, and I will glory in the power
Hrask bestows upon me.  Our love will change the fate of Mercia and shape
its future to our will!   Bishop Vargas gloried in the fantasy
for a moment, and then continued the long climb, wrapped in his faith and
fanaticism, dreaming of dark futures to come.

Chapter 4 - Investigations

The shrill ringing of fire alarms and police sirens wailed through the hot,
sticky summer night as Christine part walked, part dragged Eric away from the
grisly, horrific scene behind them, and north towards St. Michael's
Hospital.  She tried to shut it out - the screams of Eric's dying friends
- and concentrate on her task of getting Eric to the hospital, but it was
almost impossible.  The way they had screamed - it had sounded like the
scream of the damned, and it made her blood run cold.

Christine wasn’t really thinking - she was absolutely terrified and shaking
with fear.  Got to get to the hospital, she thought, over and
over.  I can fall apart then.

Meanwhile, Eric was muttering and crying, repeating “Ohmygod, ohmygod,
ohmygod...” over and over again like a mantra, and looked like he was about to
totally freak out.

Come on Christine!  You've
got to pull yourself together!  She grabbed Eric, and continued
to haul him down the street.  His whole world is falling apart... he
needs treatment - he needs time.  I have to keep him safe.
Determine to get him to safety, Christine turned to Eric, who began continued
babbling to himself.  "Eric!" she yelled.  "Eric, calm
down!"   She hauled off and slapped him across the face -
hard.  "Dammit Eric, get it together!"

Eric felt the sting of the slap, and flinched, as if
Christine's hand had been electrified.  The pain, though, cleared his
mind.  "I'm okay Christine... No, I'm not okay, but where are
we?  Where are we going?”

“You’ve been hurt – I’m taking you to the hospital.”  Christine
said.  “C’mon, dammit - I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

“Oh - Okay.  Are Dave and Norm going to be alright?”  Eric asked.

“No, Eric.  They’re not alright.”  She couldn’t say anymore - it was
too much to deal with.

The two of them stumbled the rest of the way to Saint Michaels Hospital.
Eric shuffled and groaned at the pace, but Christine's urgency, and her
dragging him, gave him some extra speed.  His chest felt like it was on
fire, and his cheeks, ears, nose and hands felt cold and numb, and yet burned
at the same time.  The voices in his head were strangely silent.

"Eric, we're there."

Christine looked around.  Emerg seemed pretty quiet for late on a
Wednesday afternoon - there was maybe only 10 people before them.
The two of them looked dishevelled, covered in smoke and dirt.  Eric was
bleeding.  Christine’s adrenaline fuelled strength finally failed as she
fell to the floor of the Emergency ward.  “Help us!”  She wasn’t sure
if it was her or Eric who called for help first.  A nurse saw them, and
hit an alarm, and soon Christine and Eric were surrounded by nurses and
orderlies with stretchers.  Eric finally reached his limit as well, and
collapsed on the floor.  He was helped into a stretcher and whisked away
to an examination room.

A nurse - her name tag said “Barb” - approached Christine. “Are you hurt?
Do you need help?”

Christine took a moment to get her breath.  “I... I’m not hurt - but my
friend was beaten up by a bunch of guys.   I'm a social worker for
Metro Toronto Social Services, and that young man over there is one of my
cases.  He's schizophrenic, but not violent, and I found him beat up and
hurt while I was out trying to get him off the street, and onto his
medications.  I have all his papers and information in my bag."
Christine motioned to her purse, still slung over her
shoulder.   How it had stayed there in their flight from the alley,
she never understood.  “Can I get cleaned up for a minute - then I’ll give
you everything I’ve got on him.”

“Sure thing, miss.”  Barb helped her up.  “Washroom’s down that way,
third door on the left.  I’ll be here when you get back.”

Christine walked to the washroom and let herself in...  I’m shaking
like a leaf!  Holy crap - we nearly died there today.  Oh my god.
She tried to splash some water on her face, to wash off the soot and dirt - and
it helped a little bit.  She sat a moment on the toilet seat, needing
somewhere to sit a moment and gather herself.   Where did Eric
come from?  He wasn’t there - then he was.  He must have been hidden
by smoke – it’s the only rational possibility.  “Gahh.”  Her
voice was still hoarse from when she vomited, and her mouth tasted
foul.   She sat for another minute, then got up and returned to the
sink.  Making herself presentable, she put everything else on hold for
now.   Just get through today.  She thought.

Stepping out of the washroom, she actually felt a bit better.  Just being able
to wash some of the dirt off helped get Christine back in her zone, at least a
little, where she felt a bit more in control.   She walked up to
Barb’s desk, and pulled out her file on Eric.  “Got a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.”  Barb answered.  “What’s the situation?”

“Like I said, I’m a social worker for Metro Toronto Social Services, and Eric
is one of my cases.  He’s a non-violent schizophrenic with a long history,
and when I found him, he had had the crap kicked out of him by a bunch of guys.
Eric van Helstrome, age 20.  Lives in an apartment in Toronto when he’s
not living on the street.”   She handed the nurse the relevant parts
of Eric’s file, and showed her ID.

Barb nodded.  “So pretty much as you said when you came in.  You two
looked a mess - what the hell happened?”

“I’m not really sure, aside from what I said.  It happened so fast.”
Christine wasn’t really lying either - the entire altercation had taken perhaps
a minute or a minute and a half from start to finish.

Barb nodded again, and gave back the ID and the files.  “Come with
me – he’s in examination room three.”

When they got to examination room three, Eric was lying on a stretcher, being
examined by another nurse - Anne her nametag said.  Barb introduced Anne
to Christine, and left them to go over Eric’s condition.  Eric himself was
lying there, barely awake, trying to answer questions without much luck.
Anne was white, middle-aged, and had mid-length brown hair.  She looked
fairly strong, and she was dressed in hospital green and white scrubs.

“How old is he, miss Vallan?”  Anne asked.  “Is he on any medications
or drugs?  Is he violent?”

“He’s twenty years old - and as far as I know he doesn’t do drugs, and isn’t on
any medications at all.”  Christine answered.  Then again, he
lives on the street - I don’t KNOW what he does or doesn’t do.  A lot of
people on the street do do drugs after all.  “He’s non-violent.”

“We should probably take some blood, to make sure then.  Any allergies to
medications?”

“None that I know of.”  She said.  “I’ve known Eric a long
time.”

“From what Eric’s said, his ribs hurt and he was kicked a number of
times.”  Anne said.  “We’ll probably have to send him to X-Ray, to
see if anything is broken.  The blood and the bruises we can patch up –
that’s no problem.”   Anne started taking Eric’s temperature, and his
blood pressure.  She took a stethoscope and started to listen to his chest
and back - and Eric winced in pain a few times when she touched his chest.

“Ouch!”  Eric said.  “My hands hurt too, ma’am... I think I’m getting
blisters on them.”

"Blisters?  Have you been near a fire?  Is it
sunburn?"  No - it couldn't be sunburn, Anne thought.  His face
and hands are pale.  She reached over an looked closely at one hand, and
then the other.  The tissue seemed very white, and little blebs - water-filled
blisters - were forming.   Anne checked her own start of surprise...
she'd seen this before, but never in this weather.  How in the hell did
this man get frostbite in the middle of an incredibly hot summer?

"Have you been in a freezer, Eric - been somewhere cold?"  Anne asked.
A deep-freezer or walk-in freezer was the only thing that made sense.

"Yeah..." Eric said.  He didn't really know why he said it,
except for the fact it was the simple truth as far as he could tell, even
though it sounded weird.  "I don't know what happened, but it was
really cold.  Cold all over.  And there were others there, the
voices.  My voices.  They wanted to hurt me.  They wanted to
kill me, and eat me, and...  And then I got away, and Christine was there."

"Christine, was he anywhere near a freezer when you found him?"

“No, not really - he was in an alleyway.  No freezer anywhere.”
Christine said.   “Why?”

“Because Eric has frostbite blisters forming on his hands - he must have been
in a deep-freeze fairly recently, and for a while too.  We’ll need to
bandage these.”

Christine shook her head.  How in the hell did you get into a freezer,
Eric?   “Sure - better get him patched up.  Thanks, Anne.”

Anne smiled, and started working on his hands - soon they were treated with
ointment and bandaged fairly securely.   She smiled, and turned as
another, younger woman entered the examination room.  She had auburn hair
and a pretty smile, and carried a box full of vials.  Anne turned and
nodded at the young woman.  "Eric, Nadine here is going to take some
bloodwork, okay - to see if your blood's alright."

NO ERIC!  She'll steal your blood... precious blood!  Your Blood is
OURS, Eric!
Eric flinched at the strength of the voices, and recoiled from Nadine.
"Poison...blood.  No!"

Nadine and Anne looked at each other, and a knowing glance passed between
them.  Eric wasn't the only person off the street who was a little
mentally disturbed.  They turned to Christine.  “Will he be alright
for us to do this, miss Vallan?”

“He should... I’ll try and calm him down.   Eric – it’s me, its
Christine.  You have to let them have some blood to make you get
better.”  She spoke calmly and smoothly, trying to relax her charge, and
her friend.

Eric
fought against the voices, tried to batter them down, keep them quiet - but it
was hard.  The

voices
had been with him for years, and he knew their taste of evil better than he
knew anyone, even better than himself.  If he didn't obey, he'd suffer
later.  The spiders might even come back.  Outwardly, the battle
didn't show - only a few facial and head twitches, and a glassy stare.  He
didn't even feel as the first needle went in.

He was still fighting the battle, when he realized he had lost - he came to,
and Nadine was walking away, vials in hand, Anne taping gauze and cotton to his
right inner elbow where they had drawn the blood.  He could hear the
voices scream their anger, and their threats of revenge.  He shivered,
despite the summer heat.  "I'm gonna die."  He said.
"They're gonna kill me."

"Who Eric?  You're safe in a hospital now.  No one will hurt you
here."  Anne smiled at him, and for a moment Eric almost believed it
- but she couldn't tell what lived in his head, and he knew how he would
suffer, now and later.

"I'm going to leave now, Eric - Doctor Stevens will be with you soon,
okay?" Without waiting for Erics answer, Anne left the examination room,
and went out into the ward, leaving his chart for the doctor to
find.   Christine was still with Eric, holding his bandaged hand, and
looking worried.

“How you doing, kiddo?”  She asked.  Christine's hands were no longer
shaking like a leaf, but she thought she might be going into shock, at least
mentally.  I've just witnessed a double-murder; how the hell should I
feel?  Jesus Christ!  They just kept
screaming!

“I suck.  How are Norm and Dave?  Are they
gonna be okay?”  Eric was worried - he was coming out of his shell, and he
was really worried.

No bloody wonder, Christine thought.  Norm and Dave are more his
family than Anders, his dad is.   “I don’t think they made it,
Eric - they were really, really badly burned.   It would have been
over quick.”

Eric moaned, and tears sprang to his eyes, and he started crying.  It was
small sobs at first - then huge bawls and moans.  That it was tearing him
up was plain to see.  Norm!  Dave!  I’m so sorry I couldn’t
save you!  Please forgive me!   His sobs were long and loud,
and tears ran down his face like rain.

Christine didn’t know what to do, except give his shoulder a squeeze.
“You’ll be okay, kiddo.”

A younger man wearing a white lab-coat entered the examination room, and was
taken aback by Eric’s bawling.  “Is he going to be okay?”  He asked,
turning to Christine.

“Yeah - he just found out that two of his friends died in the beating they
took.  He’s pretty upset.”

The doctor nodded.  “I’m doctor Stevens – I’ll be looking at
Eric.”   He looked at the file, raising an eyebrow when he got to the
nurses description of the frostbite injury.  “Looks like we need to get him
down to X-ray.  Once that’s done, assuming he’s okay to leave, what do you
want to do with him, Miss Vallan?”

“I’ve got a private room booked for him at the Neilson Clinic – it’s a private mental
hospital north of the city.  They’ll come and get him, if we call.
I’ll stay with him till they get here.”  Christine’s shaking was slowly
getting more manageable, and she was starting to feel a bit better.  God
I could kill for a cup of coffee right now, she thought.

Doctor Stevens continued his examination - and within a few minutes, sent Eric
- and Christine with him - off to X-Ray.

*
*          *

By the time Eric was out of X-Ray, Christine had called the Neilson clinic and
made all the arrangements.  A van would be sent for him soon, and he
should be picked up about 8pm.   Eric had some bruised ribs, but
thankfully nothing was broken.  He had suffered a nasty beating - and the
odd frostbite - but other than that and sporting some really badass bruises, he
was going to be okay.

Christine looked Eric over, and realized just how badly he had been
beaten.   His chest was taped up and wrapped - the bruised ribs, she
assumed, and his face was beaten bloody and sported a nice shiner over one eye,
a bloody scalp, and a puffy, swollen nose.  His torso had a number of cuts
that had stopped bleeding - too small for a bandage, they had been swabbed and
ignored, and blackened bruises almost everywhere else.  His hands were
bandaged in loose gauze.

"You okay, Eric."  The words sounded ridiculous, given the sorry
shape her charge was in.  Still, she asked anyway.

"Yeah and no...  I've feel like crap and it really hurts, and I’ve
got a bunch of blisters on my hands.  Other than that it’s just what you'd
expect from your usual Grade-A beating."  He smiled - which looked
odd given the state of his face and his injuries.  "The pain's okay -
It helps keep the voices away."

"Well... I suppose that's good, Eric." Christine said.
"How did you get blisters on your hands?  The nurse said it was
frostbite.  I mean, frostbite in the middle - no, the end of July - I
mean, how can that happen?"

Eric looked at her, and looked down at the floor.  A moment passed, but he
did trust her - he just didn't know the truth yet.  "I don't know,
Christine.  Something really weird happened to me, but I don't know if
it’s real, or my voices, or a hallucination, or something else.  I don't
know."

Christine bit her lower lip, and sat.  "Okay.  Well, if you find
out, tell the doctors, okay?"

"Okay."  Then he asked her the question she'd been trying to
avoid all night herself.  "Do you think Norm or Dave could still be
alive?"  He looked like the night was wearing heavily on him, and he
wore his grief on his face openly.

"I...  I don't know, Eric.  Burns are pretty bad news.  I
don't think they could have lived more than a few seconds.  They would
have been burned over their entire body."  She felt like she was in
neutral, like she was someone else.  Only her friendship for Angela and
Eric had brought her this far without breaking, and she didn't know how much
longer she could keep from collapsing.

Eric nodded, a few tears seeping out from his eyes, and crawling down his
bearded cheeks.  "They were my best friends in the whole world,
Christine."  he said, sadly.  "They saved my life last year
- did you know?  I had... the voices...  I dunno, but anyway, I ended
up on the subway train platform downtown, and I was gonna throw myself on the
tracks, to try and make it stop - make the voices stop.  I almost did, but
they dragged me back, and talked me through it."  Eric's voice
choked, and tears were pouring down his face.  "They watched me, and
took care of me, like they were parents - like my dad might have been, if I
hadn't got sick.  If mom hadn't..."

Christine, who was crying now too, held Eric from one side, for a long
time.  "Eric, I know they were good friends, and I don't really know
what to say now, but if I can help, I will - okay?"  She wiped her
cheeks, feeling oddly better now that she had let some of the pent up stress
and emotions out.  "I've never had a friend die like... like Norm and
Dave.  I think it'll haunt me for a long time, and I know it will with you
too."

"I don't think I'll ever forget what happened to them, Christine.
Not ever."

Christine nodded.  "I know, Eric.  When your mom died, and your
sister Angela told me, we both cried together for a long time.  I didn't
know what to say then, but afterwards I wrote her a letter.  I don't
remember the exact words, but I think it said something like 'We can't let the
tragedy of what happened overwhelm us.  Instead, let the good memories,
the love, and the way we felt about her fill us, so we never forget.
Never forget how we cared about her, and how she cared about us.'   I
think it should be that way about Norm and Dave.  As long as you remember
them, they'll live on - in you."

Eric listened, and nodded.  "I think I understand."  He
looked at Christine and a wry smile touched his face.  "You know,
that's pretty deep for a girl who snorted chocolate milk through her nose at my
sisters' 19th birthday party."

Christine couldn't help it - she laughed, and Eric joined her.  They were
memories of old times, and laughter made some of the emotional numbness both
had been feeling, somehow less.

Some time passed in quiet silence, as the two of them silently relived some of
their better memories.  Christine's watch beeped once at 8:30pm, and they
both commented on the speed and efficiency of Toronto's health professionals.

"Probably stopped on the way for some donuts."  Eric
muttered.  Christine thought he was probably right.  Just then, the
curtain was drawn aside, and a two men dressed in blue - private ambulance
attendants - were there, with a padded stretcher.

"Hi.  Neilson Clinic.  Is this Eric van Helstrome?"
one asked.

"Yes - I'm his worker, Christine Vallan.  Has the nurse given you all
the papers?"  She stood, wiping what remained of the tears away from
her face.

"Yep.  We're all ready to roll, if we can get Eric
there on this gurney." Said the other.

"Eric.  Are you ready to go?"  Christine asked.  Eric
nodded, and the two men helped him into the gurney, even though he gasped in
pain more than once as his broken rib pushed the wrong way.  "I'll
call your sister and tell her you're okay, alright?"

"Yeah - that would be good."  He nodded.  "Thanks
Christine, for everything.  I'll see you later."

Christine watched as they wheeled Eric to the clinic Ambulance, and waited
until it drove off; the clinic was somewhere in Newmarket, so it would be
morning before he was settled and cleaned up.  I might as well go home,
and collapse, she thought.  But first I have to call Angela, and
then have a shower.

She gathered up her purse, and her files, and headed out, and hopped into one
of the many taxi’s that waited around the busy ER’s in Toronto.
“Just take me home.  117 Nipigon, near Steeles and Yonge.”   I
don’t even care how much the cab costs - money is irrelevant at this
point.  I just want to get home, she thought.  "And God, but
do I need the rest."

*
*          *

Detective inspector Marcus Drake looked at the carnage in the alley outside the
back of the King Edward Hotel, and gulped air, trying to keep his lunch
down.  Twenty-five years on the force, and I’d thought I’d seen it all
- but this... this is just sick.  What the hell happened here?
As he looked on, Marcus could see the fire department putting out the last of
the flames on the corpses, making sure they wouldn’t ignite anything
else.   Emergency services even had an ambulance here in case someone
needed it - Marcus didn’t think their services would be being used
today.   The entire area was taped off to preserve any
evidence.  At least the Coroner is already on the way.  Fire
marshal is going to be here soon too.   What a fucking mess.

Marcus sighed, and ran his fingers through his thinning hair.  His hair
was still there - which was an accomplishment in his family - his dad Thomas
had been as bald as an egg by the time he was 45 - and here Marcus was 50 and
still had a decent set of hair.  Might be going silver, though, he
thought.  But at least I still got it.   He approached
the constables to see what they could tell him about the situation.

Marcus walked over to the three officers on the scene - two were regular
patrolmen - one was named Mike Connelly - and the other was the patrol-sergeant
by the name of Brett Fuller.  One of the patrolmen Marcus didn’t
know.   Marcus had known them both in greater or lesser degrees - he
hadn’t met Constable Connelly yet, but had heard of him by reputation - but
he’d been friends with Brett for the last five years.   They were
bridge partners in a local club - but so far they never got to the
finals.  Maybe this year is the year?  He wondered.

Mike saw the big Detective inspector coming, and motioned to Brett, letting him
know their boss was on the scene.  Marcus was a big man - well over six
feet in height, and half that across - and even though police officers are usually
big, he dwarfed the other two men.   “What do we got on them?”
Marcus asked.

“Well, sir, we know the group of them.”  Mike Connelly said.
“There’s usually three of them hanging out - two are dead here, but the other
one is missing.  We’re not sure which ones are dead, and which one is
alive - the bodies are too badly burned.   The busboy at the King
Eddy says they’re regulars - but he doesn’t know their names.”

Marcus looked at the patrolman.  “We haven’t met – I’m Detective Inspector
Drake.  You?”

The patrolman nodded.  “I‘ve heard of you.  I’m Keith Bishop.”

“Great.  You know anything about these guys Keith?  This is your
beat.”   Marcus sighed.  This was looking to be a long night
indeed.   He needed a cigarette - but his doctor and his daughter
told him they’d both hog tie him if they heard he’d been smoking again.

Keith nodded, and pulled out his logbook to read up on what he had on the
trio.  “Trio is made up of Norm, Dave and Eric.  Norm and Dave are
40-ish winos and the third one is a young man named Eric - maybe 20 years old,
hearing voices.  He kept to himself and wasn’t any trouble - the other two
took care of him.”

Marcus nodded, writing what he learned in his own log book.  “Anything
else?”

“I’ve talked to them several times before.  Norm’s from out west, and
Dave’s home grown - but Eric, I think he comes from money - maybe big money -
but I don’t know for sure.  I know he’s got a social worker friend that
comes around fairly often, checking on him.  They hang around the area
cause the King Eddy feeds them.  If you want more than that, I’ll have to
go back to the station and get some of my old notes.”

“Better get it then.”  Marcus sighed.  “We’ll probably need all of
it.”

Keith left, and Brett took over.  “According to what we heard from
witnesses nearby, a gang decided to barbeque them for kicks.   The
local gangs in the area can be pretty rough customers - but they’re not
sickos.  They’re more into the drug trade than... this.   I
called gang squad, and they’re checking the books to see who the sicko gangs
are – they’ll get back to us.  That’s all we’ve got at the moment.”

“Thanks Brett – I’d better go over and see if Julian has any insights.
Thanks.”   Marcus left the patrol sergeant and headed over to talk to
Jospeh Driscoll, the Fire Captain.   “Hey Joe - what a fucking mess,
huh?”

Joseph Driscoll was a mid-sized man going a bit plump around his belly, but
still in remarkably good shape for someone in his late fifties.  “Yeah –
you’re not kidding.”

Marcus looked around the crime scene.  It was hard to read - but the CSI
team and the Coroner had arrived and were looking at the bodies.
“What did they use?”

“Common gasoline - we found the melted gascan over in the corner of the
alley.”  Joe said.   “They died pretty quick.  It would
have been gruesome.”

He nodded.  Marcus knew fire was a bad way to go - but then none of the
ways to go he usually saw were particularly nice.  “Thanks Joe – I’d
better go talk to Frieda - see what she has to say.”

“No worries, Marcus.  I’ll send a copy of the report to your office
ASAP.”  Joseph said, heading off to talk to the rest of his men.

“Frieda.”  Marcus said in greeting.  “Long time no see.  It’s
been what - maybe two days?”

The brown haired woman laughed a bit ironically, and said with more than a bit
of snark “Well, tell everyone to stop offing themselves, Marcus.  I’m
finding the workload to be getting a bit ridiculous.”  Frieda was a
Coroner - and one of those people who kept at their job doggedly, even after
the requirements of work were satisfied, until they had answers.  She was
one of those people who needed to know, and pushed until they found it.
Marcus could relate - so was he.

“So how are they?”  Marcus pushed.

“Well, they’re dead.  Burned badly - probably with gasoline.  Don’t
know if they were awake or not, but they were probably alive when they were lit
on fire.  They would have died quickly - but it would have been a horrific
scene.   We’ll have to take them back to the office to find out which
ones of the three these are - probably with dental records.”

“Ah, hell.”  Marcus sighed.  “Thanks doc.”

By this time, Brett Fuller was back, this time with Officer Bishops log
book.  “We’ve got Norman Sandquist, age 48, arrested for robbery back in
1995 - did 4 years for it, got out and went clean.   David Williams,
age 42, used to be a soldier before the end of the war in Iraq ended his
career.  He might have been a bit affected by PTSD.   The last
guy is Eric van Helstrome - the son of Anders van Helstrome, you know - on Bay
street.  The kid comes from money.   He’s 20, and schizophrenic
- non violent too, but not playing with a full deck for sure.   He
and the others were pretty good guys, and didn’t give anyone any trouble.
They would even give information to the police if they saw something going on
in their area.  Apparently Keith talked to them only three days ago.
They said a new gang was moving in to the area.  So far, we don’t have
anything more on that - oh, other than the name of Eric’s social worker.
Christine Vallan, Metro Toronto Social Services.”

“That’ll probably have to wait for Gang Squad to ID this new gang, then.”
Marcus said.  “Do we have any idea where any family is staying?”

“We’ve got a number for his sister, Angela.  Here.”  Brett gave over
the number.

“Good work.  Thanks.”  Marcus said, dialling.

It rang twice and picked up - a womans voice responded on the other side of the
line.   “Hello?”

“Hello, ma’am.  My name is Detective Inspector Marcus Drake - and I’m
investigating a street attack in the area your brother, Eric usually hangs out
in.   Have you heard from him lately?”

“Actually yes.”  Angela said.  “He’s been hurt - and he’s on his way
to a clinic in Newmarket for treatment.  He was treated at St. Mikes
emergency room for a beating - I can give you the address of the clinic if you
like?”

“That would be great, ma’am.”  Marcus answered, taking down the address
and phone number as she gave it to him.  “Thank you.”

Marcus woofed air out of his lungs again, trying to relieve some tension.
I guess I’d better go to the clinic, to see if I can talk to
him.   I might as well head home for now though - everything that can
be done tonight has been done tonight.   Except maybe calling the
clinic, he thought.   He pulled out his cell phone and called.

His call went through fairly quickly - but was
unhelpful in its nature.  Apparently Eric was there - but drugged to the
gills and was completely out of it.   I guess tomorrow at noon
will be the earliest I can see him... Since I can’t do anything more tonight,
I’m heading home, he thought.  “I’ll follow up on it tomorrow.”

*
*          *

Eric lay on the stretcher thinking, as the private ambulance whisked him north,
towards the Neilson Clinic.  Probably some place where there's a big
lawn, with beautiful trees.  There has to be a pond - and it'll be miles
from anywhere.  The perfect place to dump someone, and forget about them.
Eric had no delusions - his experiences had shown him, that out of all his
family, only his sister Angela seriously cared for him.  He had been given
some pills at the hospital, and they were making him feel calmer and
sedated.  Thank god, he thought.  After what happened
today...  Even through the sedation, tears came unasked to his eyes.

He turned to the ambulance attendant in the back with him.  "Hey -
where is the Neilson Clinic after all?  I'd like to know where I'm
staying."  Eric winced as the ambulance went over a particularly
rough bump - his ribs hurt a great deal.

"Heh...  I suppose it can't hurt.  It's on the outskirts of
Newmarket, north of Toronto.  Maybe 10 miles out."  He looked
over Eric.  "We'll try and take it easy on those country roads -
right Bob?"  He called up to the front - where, presumably Bob was
driving.

"We'll what?"  Bob called back.

"Take it easy on the country roads.  So his ribs don't hurt as
much."

"You got it."

"Thanks.  Uh..."  Eric said, sniffling.  "I don't
know your name."

"I'm Mike Connors.  We'll probably be seeing you at the clinic
sometimes.  When we're not running our asses off taking patients to and
fro.  You okay, kid?"

"My best friends got killed today... Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Geez, I’m sorry.” Mike said.  “You rest easy - we won’t be much
longer.  You’ll be okay.”

“Okay Mike - thanks."  Eric drifted in his pill induced haze,
wondering privately where "Fro" might be, if he was going
"To", but after a moment, just gave up and lay there on the
stretcher, feeling the road beneath the ambulance's tires roll by.  He
figured about thirty minutes had passed; he was barely able to stay conscious.

Bob drove up the 404 to Greenline road, and turned right onto Herald road
between Kennedy and McGowan.   Herald road was a paved concession
road with two lanes

Eric turned to Mike, and smiled.  “Hey - this
clinic.  What day is Visitors day?”

Mike smiled back.  “I guess you’d say every other Sunday.  Why?”

“No reason.”  Eric answered

Eric knew from past experience that Visitor's day was perhaps the worst time of
all.  When you're in a hospital, or a clinic, and you're immersed in all
the doctors and therapy and treatment, you slowly lose touch with what everyone
likes to call "The Real World."  And then, suddenly, Visitors'
day comes, and everyone's family pops out of the woodwork to salve their guilt
and visit their disabled or unwanted relatives - or worse, nobody shows.
All that did was remind the patients that they were apart from the world, and
why.  No wonder it was the worst day of the month.  And they have
it twice at Neilson.  Eric thought.

Mike gave Eric a sad smile, and they drove on.  Eric lay on the stretcher,
and began to doze.  The voices were not long in returning.

Mike watched his charge in the back as the ambulance drove on.  Eric had
fallen asleep, but seemed to be having a nightmare of some kind.  And with
a schizophrenic - even a non-violent one, that could mean...  "Hey
Bob."  he said.  "Hurry it up.  I think Eric might
freak out on us."

"Damn - I hate the crazies."  Bob said.  "The
vegetables are so much better."  Still, he upped the speed.

On the stretcher, Eric dreamed of spiders.

At first, it seemed like a normal dream - like the ones he had before he got
sick.  He was sitting in an open field on a blanket with his sister
Angela, and his Mother - Laura - was spooning potato salad onto paper
plates.  His mother was a pretty woman, with long brown hair and a soft,
kind face and arms always willing to hug and to help.  His father Anders,
in comparison, was a hard man with chiselled features that were rugged if not
classically handsome.  He was about thirty feet away, and as usual was
talking business on a cell phone, ignoring the picnic.

A single spider crawled out of the grass, over Eric's hand.  He jerked
back, startled, and moved away.  "Aagh!  A spider!"

"Doofus - it's only a bug."  Angela liked bugs - she kept a pet
praying mantis in a tank in her room.

"It's a spider!"  He said, in his own defence, as if that were
enough.

"Come, now Eric.  They eat insects like flies and mosquitos - that
can't be all bad, can it?"  His mother's soothing tones calmed him
somewhat, until he looked over and saw her.  Spiders in all shapes crawled
in and out of her mouth, ears and nostrils, like his mother's body was some
sort of huge nest of the things.  "What's the matter Eric?
Don't you like spiders?"

His mothers' voice turned harsh, and her skin began to split open, like a
too-ripe tomato, bursting from the fluids and juices inside.

"Mother!  No!"  Eric screamed  "No!  Please
stop!  Please!"

No Eric.  We told you the spiders would return if you disobeyed.
It was then he knew the Voices had returned - and he was going to be
punished.  Eric screamed, and as the spiders began to crawl all over him,
biting as they went, he tried to run - to escape the insects before the terror
he knew was to come could grab hold.  He didn't realize that he couldn't
escape himself.

Mike looked panicked as Eric jerked upright in his sleep and started screaming,
trying to run, roll out of the gurney. "Jesus Christ!  Pull over Bob
- he's going ballistic back here."  Mike grabbed Eric, and threw him
back down on the stretcher with one strong arm, and with the other, grabbed a
syringe he had prepared when he saw Eric doze off, when he suspected he might
need it.

Whatever Eric saw, it was freaking him out - and Eric wasn't a physically frail
or weak young man.  "Dammit Bob, I need help - stop the fucking
Ambulance!"  He felt the vehicle stop as he struggled with
Eric.  He jammed the syringe into Eric's shoulder and pressed all the way
down.  "If that won't calm him down, we'll need a fucking
bullet!"

Eric's response was even more violent.  "NO!  POISON!  It's
poison!  Aaaaaaggh!"  His back arched and legs kicked as his
scream reverberated through the rear of the ambulance, and shook Mike to his
core - in fourteen years he had ever seen such a violent dream-state without
the patient being on drugs.

And then Bob was there, holding down Eric's legs.  Mike grappled Eric's
arms and put them in restraints, one after the other, while Bob did the same to
his feet.  Eric resisted, but he wasn't as strong as the two
paramedics.  And few moments later, by the time he was in full restraints,
the sedative he had been given began to take effect.  His motions calmed,
although whatever nightmare he had been having still troubled him.

Mike turned to Bob.  "How far now?"

"About ten minutes."  He turned to get back into the driver's
seat, muttering  "... Jesus H. Christ on a popsicle stick!  I
fucking HATE the crazies."

*
*          *

Eric woke like a swimmer trying to reach the surface...  He could see the
light getting closer and closer, and he could feel the strain of not breathing
- and then he was there, awake, and gasping for breath.  His head felt
funny - like it was stuffed with cotton.  The sound of his breathing was
muted, and other sounds - sounds of what must be people on his ward - were
muted as well, as if behind a partially closed door or a thick curtain of heavy
cloth.  At least he couldn't hear the voices.

It was day outside - the sunlight coming in the window told him that
much.  He winced in pain from his aching chest as he tried to sit up, but
he managed only a few inches before he was held down by the restraints on his
bed.  He struggled against the bonds for a moment, and then slacked off,
trying to get some give in the wrist-straps.  By the time the duty nurse
entered, he'd almost gotten his left hand free, although it wouldn't seem so to
a casual observer.  A little trick Dave taught me, he thought.

The nurse was neither young, nor pretty, but you could tell by her manner she
was a professional, and not about to take any crap from a patient.  That
was okay.  Eric didn't like crap either.  She had short blonde hair,
and wore a white and grey clinic uniform.

"I see you're awake, Eric."  She said.  "I'm Linda
Niven, and I hope you've calmed yourself since your little tantrum in the
ambulance...  Will I be able to remove the restraints?"  Her
voice was friendly, but all business.

"Um, yeah.  I freaked out?  I don't remember much except talking
to uh... Mike."  Eric looked ashamed, and his voice sounded hoarse,
as if he had screamed for hours.  "If I did, I didn't mean to."

"Well, you did - and we were all rather concerned.  But it seems
you're all right now, so I'll get you sitting up.  Would you like some
breakfast?"  She undid the left and right hand restraints quickly and
efficiently, then the torso and feet.

Eric thought a moment, and realized he was very hungry, and thirsty.  His
throat was parched, and his mouth as dry as a cotton swab.  "Yes,
please.  No Poison."  He shook his head a bit.  "Uh...
ignore that last part, okay?  Should I call you Linda, or Mrs.
Niven?"

"You can call me either, Eric, as long as you behave on my shift."
Another friendly smile.  Eric thought it lit up her face, and made it
glow.  He liked Linda's smile.  "I'll be back with your tray in
a moment."

While Linda was getting his tray, he tried to take a look at his room.  It
was difficult to see, since his shiner from last night had swollen to nearly
obscure his left eye, but he could manage if he turned his head slowly, around
the room.  It was a fairly big room, painted lime-green, with all the
usual amenities - a sealed window overlooking a lawn, telephone, television,
tile floor, a table, a few chairs; the standard institutional adjustable bed,
dresser, closet and so on.   It looked like every up-scale clinic and
half-way house he had ever been in.  Still, it was nice.

He realized his face felt rather raw, and rubbed his chin with his hand,
expecting to meet beard.  Instead, he touched bare skin.  It felt
razor-burned.  "Linda," he called.  "Did someone shave
me while I was out?"

Linda re-entered the room, carrying a plastic tray with some food on it.
It smelled delicious, and Eric's stomach growled at the thought of food.
"Yes.  You've been sedated for a day and a half, and we did it
then.  You've been put back on your medications as well, and I brought
them with your tray."

"I don't like the meds."  Eric said.  He didn't - they made
his head feel worse, not with voices, but like he was hollowed out and the
essence that was Him was replaced with cotton batting.  "They make me
feel weird.  Am I on Halidol?"

"Maybe they do, Eric.  But you're going to take them, if you want to
see your father.  We can't take you to see him until you're
clear-headed.  And you're being given Risperidone."

"Well, I suppose that's better than Halidol."  Halidol always
made him feel like a zombie.  At least he wouldn't be totally numbed
inside.  The Risperidone actually let a little of himself show
through.  He held out his bandaged hands and took the medication,
swallowing them with a glass of water.  "Is my Dad any better?"

"I don't know Eric.  I do know he's still alive, but I haven't seen
his chart.  I understand he's very weak, though, and wants to see
you.  You can discuss medications with your Doctor, when you have the
chance.  From what I understand, we're supposed to clean you up, and get
you over to see your father as soon as possible.  So eat up, quickly, and
we can get started."

"Okay."  There didn't seem to be anything else to say, although
Eric knew he should ask...  The risperidone - actually, all
anti-psychotics to a degree - made him feel emotionally numb and distanced from
everything.  Still, he felt ashamed, because he knew he should be reacting
differently.

Breakfast was fried bacon, scrambled eggs, toast with jam, pulp-free orange
juice, and coffee.  He started in on the eggs, and began eating.  He
finished with the coffee and bacon, about 5 minutes later.  It wasn't
until he finished eating he realized that he was wearing nothing except a
hospital gown covered by a terrycloth robe.

"Uh... Linda?  Do I even have clothes here?"  Eric didn't
think they would have, but Angela might have sent some over from the
house.

"Yes.  We have some, but I think first we need you to have a haircut
and a bath.  Can you clean yourself, or do you need help?  I mean
really clean, Eric."  She looked as if she was ready to throw him in
the bathtub on her own - she might even be strong enough to do it, thought
Eric.

"I might need help with my hair.  I don't know if I can move my left
arm with my rib.  it still hurts a lot."  Eric tried moving his
left arm, and found it was sore, but only hurt a lot when he tried to move it
above his shoulder.

Linda helped Eric stand up, and sat him in a wheelchair.  "I know we
don't really need this, Eric, but let's make sure you don't fall and bruise
anything else, okay?"  She wheeled him out into the ward.

The ward was well-staffed; Eric saw at least a half-dozen
nurses assisting the other patients and residents, in just a few minutes.
The ward was laid out like a big cross, a squared X with the nurses station in
the center, where the spokes of the X met.  Offices and support areas,
like kitchens and bathrooms, filled the space between the spokes.
Eric's room was North 304.  He supposed that meant he was on the third
floor.

"Where are we going?"  Eric asked.

"The hair salon in on the second floor, west wing, Eric."

Trust dad's money.  He thought.  Only he would choose a
place with its own hair salon.  I wonder if it has its own pool hall,
too.  Then again, maybe dad didn't arrange this.  Maybe it was Angie?
Eric mused for the trip, wondering what had been arranged.

Unfortunately, there was little the barber could do to save his matted hair;
what wasn't filthy and matted like dreadlocks, had lice in it.  As Eric
was wheeled out of the hair salon, he felt the short stubble of what was left
of his hair, and thought the only haircut he could call that was a
buzz-cut.  He didn't really care - more of the anti-psychotics at work -
but at least his head felt lighter and cleaner.

The bath was much rougher; he had gone for over a year without a shower, and
the grime was caked on in layers.  It took him over an hour and a half,
and three tubs of water to get clean, even with the help of one of the male
nurses.  Still, after he got out of the tub, he felt physically better in
a way he had almost forgotten.  It felt good.

By the time he got back to his room, it was past noon, and another tray of food
was waiting on his table, and some clothes had been laid out on the bed, and a
pair of boots - his characteristic lace-up Doc Martens - were waiting on the
floor.   Angie sent them.  It must have been - dad hates my
boots.

Eager to be out of the bathrobe, he stood and slowly dressed, taking care not
to aggravate his bruised ribs.  He dressed in his socks and
underwear.  The black jeans were a tight fit, and needed a belt, but they
still did okay - somehow, he had gained some weight while on the street.  Probably
because I didn't drink any booze or do any drugs, he thought.  The
blue tee fit fine, although it too was a little tighter around the belly.
The Doc's fit fine, as usual, and the jeans covered the laces, so they looked
almost like shoes.

There was only one more thing I need.  He thought.  I wonder if
Angela thought to send it?  He walked over and checked his closet, and
smiled broadly.  Even the emotion numbing pills they had him on couldn't
repress his comfortable feeling when he put on his leather jacket.  It was
a thick, expensive leather coat that went down to a little below his waist, and
had full length arms.  It was the last gift his mother had given him
before the end.  He loved it like an amulet or talisman - wearing it,
smelling it - brought back memories of his mom.  It gave him back a bit of
confidence that he thought he had lost.

I lost mom four years ago, and now I might lose dad too.   It
was almost inconceivable.  If dad dies, I might never... he might never
forgive me for mom.  Finally, the thought that he had been avoiding
since Christine told him his father was near death surfaced.  If he
dies now, he might never forgive me.   Eric knew it was stupid,
and that he had no control over what his mother had done when she killed
herself, but he still blamed himself.  Somehow, the voices should have
taken me, not her.  It didn't help that his father seemed to be
all-too eager to blame Eric for his wife's onset of mental illness and
subsequent death.  At least he never re-married.  He wrestled with
guilt and anger for some time, before a voice at the door snapped him out of
his reverie.

"Hey, there, Eric.  You ready to go?"

Angela!   "Hi Angie.  Is dad okay - I mean, does he want to
see me?"  He looked over at his older sister, and she came over and
gave him what they used to call a power-hug.  Angela was tall and thin,
with the nordic features their father brought over from Northern Europe.
She wore an expensive charcoal grey dress and blazer, with a white chemise
beneath, gold earrings and a gold necklace that had belonged to their mother.

"I don't know Eric.  He's really sick - he's had a mild Heart Attack,
followed by a more serious one on the way to the hospital.  He's very
weak, and not always conscious.  He did ask about you, and I asked
Christine to find you and bring you in if she could."

"She found me, but I was a little beat-up."  He smiled,
looking somewhat humorous with all his bruises and such.

"A little beat-up?  She told me you were fighting with a pack of
street thugs."  She looked worried as she slowly counted the bruises
and sores, and looked at the bandages on Eric’s hands.  "Are you
going to be able to manage?"

"Yeah.  I think so, sis."  he said.  "Let's go
see dad."

Chapter 5 - The House of Broken
Dreams

The first thing Maeve felt was pain, radiating from her own head like someone
had jammed a nail right through it, ear to ear.  She could taste blood in
her mouth where, presumably, she had bitten her tongue while
unconscious.   Great Goddess, that hurts!  She
thought.  Where am I?  Maeve looked about, but the inky
darkness offered no clue - she couldn't even see what bound her hands to the
wall.  Slowly, she calmed herself, and tried to remember.

My name is Maeve Varda, she thought.  Good - I can remember my
name.  I'm in a dungeon... but where?  I can barely think
straight.  Am I drugged?  Maeve hung in the darkness a while,
listening for any hint that might reveal where she was.   As she hung
in silence, the first faint echoes of the cries of the mad filtered into her
cell.  Maeve listened with growing horror, and suddenly a rush of memories
flooded in, and she knew where she was, and why.

The House of Broken Dreams.  The Dreamers and the Priest.  Lost
Tiamat...  I have to escape, she thought.  But how can I
escape, when I'm drugged, and I can't even move.  Damn!  Mother was
right - sewing never looked so good!

Maeve hung there in the dark, sodden at first and cold as the foul water
dried.  Hunger wasn't really a problem, but Maeve felt as dry as a bone,
and was very, very thirsty.  She day-dreamed about diving into a deep pool
of water, and drinking her fill, but gave up after a while.  It was all
pointless until the guard came back.  I just hope he comes back before
I die of thirst, she thought.

She had nothing to do but wait; if she used her mage-senses to scry the area,
she risked being pulled into the Dreamer's visions again - and the thought of
that scared her more than anything the turnkey might dream up!  And I
have a nasty surprise for him he may not like, if it comes to that, she
thought.  "And it probably will."  She said, to no
herself.  "With his kind, it always does."

Maeve didn't know how much time actually passed before the mush-faced turnkey
returned; it could have been a day, maybe even two days, but it felt like a
week.  Her wrists and hands were numb and sore, from taking the majority
of her body weight for however long she had hung there, in the dark, and her
ankles were sore and swollen.  The one thing she was sure of was that she
hurt.

She heard the approach of her erstwhile jailor before she saw the light of his
torch shine through the cracks of her cell's door.  His heavy leather
shoes slapped hard against the stone floor, echoing through the dungeon below
the sanatorium, giving ample warning to his intended victim or victims.

Only this victim isn’t helpless.  Maeve thought.  Her shoes had
thick, hard soles - only in one shoe, hidden in that thick sole was a thin,
narrow blade that extended when the heel was hit just right, and then be used
to stab or cut.  She knew the trick of the shoe well - it had saved her
life too many times for her not to.

Trying to relax, Maeve listened as the turnkey fumbled for the key to her cell,
juggling both keys and his torch, and swearing when he nearly dropped both.
Obviously not one of the brighter guards, Maeve thought.  Good.

The turnkey opened the door to her cell, after fumbling for the key for what
seemed hours.   Maeve gasped as the sudden light of the turnkey's
torch thrust into her eyes, and sent red-hot needles of agony through her
skull.

Before her eyes could adjust to the light, she heard the turnkey move, and then
felt his club impact with her stomach - hard.  Choking in pain, Maeve
gasped, and for a moment, hung limp in her chains.  A few moments later,
she felt rough hands prop up her reeling head, and pour a foul liquid - more
audorin root - down her throat, until she was choking to make it stop.
Maeve reeled from the sudden assault, and tried to get her bearings, when she
heard the turnkey chuckle at her discomfort.

"Well, greetings, milady Maeve."  He said with a mocking
tone.  "I'll bet you weren't expecting my club.  I'm Udo, but
you can call me Sir, if you talk at all.  Understand, Wench?"

Maeve nodded, and looked at her tormentor.  Udo looked eager, like a
shark waiting for blood to spill into the water.  "I
understand.  Sir."  She tried to bite back the bitter tone her
words carried, but didn't think she succeeded.  Udo - the turnkey - still
wore the same filthy clothes from their first meeting, offsetting his pasty
skin and mushed face.  He looked as if he had his nose broken at least
twice - it was mashed almost out of shape, and leaned off to the left.
When he smiled, Maeve could see he was missing some teeth as well.

"That's good.  Maybe you'll stay alive a little longer, then.
As long as you keep me happy..."  He chuckled nastily, and then tore
her fouled skirt from her body, leaving her lower torso naked, and began
undoing his belt.

Gritting her teeth, and trying not to think about what was about to happen if
her trick failed, she waited helplessly.  Her head was spinning and her
Mage talent far away, from the effects of the audorin root.

Udo moved up against her, his body warm and foul against her chilled, damp
skin.  He fumbled for several minutes, his nauseating flesh moving between
Maeve's legs, unable to reach its intended destination in the small cell.
He growled in frustration, and backed away.  "Damn chains are too
short."

Indeed, thought Maeve.  And to keep doing what he's doing, he'll
need to either kill me - or unlock my legs.  "You could unlock my
legs...  It would work then."  Even though she knew that getting
her legs freed was essential to her survival and eventual escape, she felt more
than a little sickened by saying the words.

"Huh?  Why are you trying to help, instead of screaming and fighting,
wench?"

"You said if I keep you happy, I stay alive longer - right?"

"Right..."  Udo looked more than a little confused; no doubt
most of his victims plead for mercy or screamed and tried to escape.  He
wasn't used to his victims helping.  "You're right - you and me,
we're going to get along fine, I think."   He knelt, and
unlocked her right ankle, and then her left.

Maeve groaned in pain, as the meagre support of her ankle chains was removed,
and her full weight pulled on her wrists.  Her legs and arms felt numb,
and clumsy - more like lead weights than limbs, and for a moment, her vision
went grey.  She didn't realize how close she came to passing out, and
silently prayed to The Ladies of Mercy for succour.  There was no answer -
but she remained conscious.  It was enough.

The turnkey grabbed her roughly, and hefted her legs around his waist - all his
attention on satisfying his need.  She felt the heat of his groin against
her legs, and then she struck.

Twisting her legs, she fumbled out Udo's grasp and pushed him back with her
feet.  He staggered back - aroused, and angry.  "What?  A
trick!"  Udo roared.  "You'll pay for that,
wench."  He reached for his club, and advanced on Maeve, club raised.

Now!  Maeve thought, as she moved her left heel against the wall
just so, and a 6 inch steel blade popped out of the tip of her shoe.  Even
as the turnkey's club caught her a heavy blow to her head, she struck out once,
twice, three times, catching him in the belly and driving the knife blade under
his ribcage and deep into his vitals, killing him instantly.

The force of the turnkey's final blow, combined with the huge dose of drugs and
the ordeal Maeve had been through, proved too much.  The last thing she
remembered seeing was Udo's dead body fell off the tip of her shoe's hidden
blade, and watching him slide to the ground to collect in a pool of dark
blood.  Then there was blackness.

*
*          *

Eric and Angela drove out of the parking lot at the Neilson Clinic in relative
silence, the soft purr of Angie's grey volvo making a relaxing, calming
sound.  Eric watched the county road signs whisk by in silence with only
the odd twitch of his face muscles, and soon, Angela turned the volvo onto the
404, heading south towards Toronto.

Angela rode in silence too, unconsciously chewing her lower lip.  Eric
knew better than to ask her what was wrong, but still looked over and did it
anyway.  "You okay, Angie?"  Eric asked.

"What?"  Angela said, surprised.  A moment passed, and she
continued.  "No.  No, I'm not all right, dammit.  Christine
told me you were damn near killed last night, that you were beaten to a pulp,
and that your street buddies were killed!  Tears of care and anger were
rolling down her cheeks, trickling her makeup.  "You could have been
killed, you asshole!"

Eric blinked.  "I'm sorry, Angie.  I didn't think before
I..."  He didn't know what to say.  "I couldn't let them
get hurt, without even trying to help, sis.  They were my best friends -
they saved my life."

"And you thought you could take on that whole gang?"  There was
no need to answer that question, at least - both knew Eric hadn't thought, he'd
just reacted.  "Why did you run again.  I mean, back to the
streets?  Its been over a year this time, and this time you almost
died.  Why did you run?"

"I don't know."  Eric mumbled, looking and feeling ashamed at
the lie. You lie, Eric.  Good.  We like it when you lie...  The
voices were never too far away, but he was able to ignore them, for the moment.

"Bullshit, Eric.  You have a reason.  As much as you wish it
wasn't so, our family has money - and you had a good life, when you were on
your meds and off the street.  Hell, with your trust fund, you could have
given your pals fifty dollars a day and still had a decent lifestyle.  And
don't tell me you made more than that panhandling."

"A good life, yeah right!"  Yelled Eric.  "I could
live in a luxurious house on The Bridle Path, where all the other millionaires
live - with a father who hates my guts, thinks I’m gay, and blames me for mom’s
death.  Maybe we have money - so what?  My running wasn't about
money.  It didn't help Mom, and didn't stop Dad from hating me!"

"Is that why?  Because you think Dad hates you?  Or is it
because you blame yourself for Mom's... death?  Dammit, you're all I have
left, if Dad goes, Eric.  Don't leave me alone."

"I won't leave you alone, Angie - I won't, but it's really hard.  The
voices don't ever stop - ever, even on the meds, unless I'm so drugged I can't
even tell if I'm conscious.   And I have dreams - horrible dreams,
sometimes even when I'm awake.  I'm scared, Angie - scared of the voices
and the dreams, because one day I'm afraid I won't be able to wake up!"

"How does running help that?  I mean, really, Eric!  How does
running help?"  Angela looked over at him for a moment, taking her
eyes off the road.  "Eric - did... does Dad's reaction to Mom's death
really still hurt that much?"

Eric looked at his sister, open and raw with hurt.  "Yeah,
Angie.  More than you can know."  He shuddered as tears fell
down his face.  "I can't let him go without him forgiving me for
Mom.  I can't."  He also noticed that his sister refrained from
asking if he was gay... probably because she was afraid of what his answer
might her - although to tell the truth he wasn’t sure how he would answer
it.  Saying he was gay would be easier.  Easier at least than saying
he thought he wanted to be a girl.

They drove in silence for a while, their inner thoughts punctuated by the
silent tears falling down each of their faces.  "At the risk of
sounding like a shrink..."  Angela said.  "...it sounds
like you're running from yourself.  And how can you outrun yourself?
I mean, what if Dad doesn't forgive you?  What then?"

Mournfully, Eric said  "I don't know, Angie.  I really don't
know."   He spoke like someone drowning, grasping at the only
life preserver within reach, and not knowing if it was going to hold him up, or
collapse and send him struggling to the bottom.

Angela only nodded, and kept driving.  Eric and Angela had always had a
rapport - they had shared everything, until Mom died.  She knew about how
his voices said they were Demons, and how he feared what would happen when he
died... that was the one reason she never worried about him committing suicide
- she knew he was more afraid of what came after dying.  She knew Eric was
confused about his sexuality, too.  In that respect, Eric probably didn't
know what he was, and the onset of his schizophrenia hadn't helped - but that
was neither here nor there, and likely had little to do with his feelings about
their father.  Still, the moment they had shared during the drive was
almost too much - too emotionally charged to accept easily.  So she nodded
again, and kept on driving.

*
*          *

They finally arrived at Toronto General, and by then, the silence - and their
raw emotions - had calmed somewhat.  Angie was looking better, even if her
makeup wasn't, and Eric heard her make a sound of victory as she found a spot
two levels down in the underground parking lot miraculously next to the
elevators.  Eric grinned, despite the sick, anxious feeling he felt
inside.  Even a screaming match couldn't keep Angie down for long,
he thought.

He waited a bit while she checked her makeup in the rear-view mirror, and repaired
a bit where her tears had smudged it.  It seemed to take a long time, but
he knew that was just his nerves throwing his judgement off.  He
hates you, Eric - he hates you because you remind him of what he lost.  We
hate too, Eric.  We hate all of you, and still you come to us.  We
will have him soon too.  "Aaggh!  Shut up!"
Eric moaned, clutching his head as the fit passed.  He pounded his fist
against his forehead twice, and that combined with the pain of his blistered
hands, was enough to drive the voices away for now, even if it did leave him
trembling.

Angela looked over, concerned.  "You okay, Eric?"

"No, but we might as well keep going.  I'll be fine - I just need a
pill I think."  Eric didn't like the idea of taking meds just before
seeing his father, but given the situation, he wasn't sure he had a choice if
he wanted to go through with this.

"I've got them right here."  Angie fished out a small pill
bottle, and a small bottle of spring water.  "The doctors at the clinic
said to take one, two at the max.  Which is it?"

"One.  They gave me two before we left the clinic."  He
accepted the bottle of water, and washed the Risperidone down with a
gulp.  "Thanks."

"No problem.  Now lets get up there - Dad's in Intensive Care, and
visiting hours don't start for another half-hour, but we should be there all
the same."

They rode the elevator up in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
The elevator stopped on the first floor, and a harried nurse in blue stepped
in.  She was about thirty, with brown hair and fair skin, and carried a
clipboard stuffed with papers and a large cup of coffee.  A name tag she
wore said "Amy."  She nodded to Eric, and Angela.

While Angela asked the nurse for directions to the gift shop, Eric let his mind
wander a bit, lost in the fog of the anti-psychotics he'd been dosed
with.  It was an unpleasant feeling - like his arms and legs were lead
weights, and that they didn't belong to him, or that they wouldn't obey his commands.
He could hear the voices too, but their messages were so garbled and clouded,
he didn't really care.  The problem was, his own thoughts were becoming
just as garbled and clouded - and he felt hollow, like he was less himself,
somehow.

He didn't even notice when they reached the ground floor, and Angela guided him
off the elevator and over to the gift shop.  He looked around, at the
stuffed plush toys, the 'get well soon' cards, the magazines, and flower
arrangements.

A bit later, Angela bought a small flower bouquet of pink baby roses, and
handed it to Eric.   They left the shop, and headed back to the
elevator, where a fair sized crowd had gathered to wait.

Eric, muddling through his meds, had a thought.  "Hey Angie - will
they even let us take this in, if Dad's in Intensive care?"  He
remembered hearing about sometimes that sort of gift wasn't allowed.

"Maybe not, but if he gets any better, they can take it in to him when
it's okay.  I'd rather have them now, in case he can have them, than
not."

"Okay."  There didn't seem to be much else to say.  He
looked at a clock as they passed; it was 3:47pm.

Soon, the elevator arrived, and the crowd shouldered its way inside.
After a few floors down, then back up, they arrived and stepped off on
cardiology - Eric couldn't remember which floor that was - and proceeded to the
Intensive Care Unit.

ICU was busy, but very quiet.  Eric tried to shake himself from his daze,
but it was hard, fighting against the meds and the voices all at once, and he
twitched a few times as spasms rode across his face and shoulder - silent
signals of his inner struggle.  Angela gave their names to the duty nurse,
and then led Eric over to the small waiting room to sit.

Angela looked pale, and scared.  "Eric, I just spoke with one of the
nurses.  She said Dad's heart attacks were caused by a damaged valve in
his heart, and that he's probably going to need open-heart surgery to correct
it.  It's dangerous, and he might die.  Today is the last time we can
visit before the surgery.  Its four o-clock and the nurses say we can only
stay until six.  Think you can manage?"  Angela asked.

"Yeah. I think so."  He said, rubbing his forehead.  "Just
give me a bit to try and clear my head."  He tried to do just that,
but it was slow going.

"Okay Eric - I'll be in with Dad."  Angela squeezed his hand,
and went into their father's "room."  He lost sight of her as
she passed through a thick curtain.  A few minutes later, with his
thoughts a bit more under control, he got up and followed her.  He wasn't
prepared for what he saw.

Eric's father, Anders Wirren van Helstrome, was built along the same lines as
his son - strong and blocky, with a square jaw and the same nordic features
that his children displayed.  Yet now, that large frame seemed to lack any
strength whatsoever, covered as it was in intravenous tubing and oxygen
hoses.  Eric always thought of his father as a strong man - internally as
well as physically - who could weather anything, and yet the man he saw before
him was barely able to move, and looked gaunt and lifeless, and far older than
his 50 years.  Angela was standing beside their father, talking quietly to
him, when Eric entered.

Eric paused a moment, taken aback by his fathers' appearance.  The room
smelled of antiseptic, and the beeping of various monitors gave the quiet room
a certain level of background noise, as did the breathy sound of his father's
oxygen tubes.  He tried to speak, but nothing came out, so he closed his
mouth and went over to stand with Angela, his father watching him with two keen
and intelligent eyes.

"Hi Dad."  Eric said softly.

His father said nothing.

"Dad - please, talk to me."  Eric pleaded.  "I don't
want you to go on hating me forever...  please."

"I hate you, Eric.  I hate what you stand for.  You run from
responsibility.  You run from your family, and your schooling, when I know
you're too damn smart.  You let these mythical "voices" control
your life, when anyone with guts would take it like a man and tough it
out.  You spend year after year eating food out of dumpsters, and begging
for spare change when you could be finishing school and making something of
your life.  You're wasting your life.  You're a cancer on the family,
and even though I love you, you're a reminder of my wife I can't escape, and
whom I blame for her death, and I'm sick of hurting.  Please.  Just
go away."

The words, although spoken quietly, had an edge that cut like a knife, and
Eric's soul bled to hear them.  Tears welled up in his eyes, even as his
spirit fell defeated.  "Dad... I... I love you."

"I don't care."

Eric didn't know what to say.   He stood in mute shock, and finally,
moved away from the bed, trying to look away, trying to stop the tears that
wouldn't stop coming.   He was shattered on the inside - now it was
just beginning to show on the surface.   The sheer strength of his
father’s apathy tore him apart.

Angela reacted with quick anger.  "Dad!  How can you say that
crap?  Don't you give a damn about anyone in this family except
yourself?   Do you think that hurting Eric will salve your wounded
ego, or bring back Mom?  We both love you - both of us, Dad."

"At least you're not wasting your life, like your brother."

"You have no idea what it's like for people with a mental illnesses to try
and deal with day to day life."  Angela said.  "It's not
easy.  I've talked with all the workers and doctors, while you were too
busy to give a damn, and I learned.  Over eighty percent end up on the
street at one time or another - Eric's not alone in that.  The rest don't
have it easy either.  The medications make them gain weight, sleep all
day, and make them feel sub-human.  It's not something you can bloody well
'tough out.'"

"And as for running, how about your running from Mom's breakdown - farming
her off to that clinic out west instead of spending time with her, and then
blaming Eric when she killed herself.  Or running from your responsibility
towards Eric.  You sure found it easy to fob off all the paperwork and
details of his care on me, and let me tell you, it wasn't easy.  If you're
going to sling mud, Dad, better make sure you're clean first."

"Clean!"  Their father gave a weak laugh, and then his face
turned stubborn, and Eric knew his father would rather die than admit he was
wrong.  "Please - both of you - just go."

Angela grabbed Eric's arm, and said "I hope you live to regret this
conversation, Dad.  Get better soon."  She dragged Eric, still
nearly helpless with grief, from the ICU ward and into the hall beyond.
Eric clenched his arms around Angie, and sobbed out his grief in great
shuddering gasps and sobbing wails.  Angie held her brother, just trying
to be there for him.

"It's okay Eric...  He'll come around."  She said, knowing
somehow that it was a lie.   "I know he will."

Eric nodded, and broke away from their clench, shaking his head.
"No, sis - he won't, and we both know it.  I lost Dad three years
ago, when Mom killed herself."  He said in despair.  "I just
didn't realize it until now."

"Eric..." Angela began, then stopped, knowing it was futile.

"Let's just go back to the clinic, Angie.  I need to be there - I
need to clean up, and get back on track, even if its just to prove him
wrong.  I need a rest, and a bed, and a place to heal." he said,
motioning to his bandaged hands.  "I just want to rest."

"Okay Eric.  Let's go."

*
*          *

Maeve slowly came to, bit by bit.  At first, there was the sticky feeling
of dried blood, vomit, and bodily wastes on her skin, and the chill feeling of
her uncovered lower torso.  Next came the awful stench of those fluids and
wastes, and Maeve gagged on the taste of it in her mouth.  Slowly, the
noises of the House of Broken Dreams filtered in as well - the screams and
wails of the mad.  Strangely, the noise helped - it helped Maeve remember
where she was, and from that, who she was.  A short while later she was
able to open her eyes - to see the dead body of her jailor lying in a pool of
blood and filth at her feet.

"Well at least something today has gone right the first time."
Her voice croaked - her throat was parched.   The torch that the
turnkey brought with him is still burning, she thought, so I can't have
been unconscious for more than a few hours at most.  Still, the torch
was almost spent, so she must have been out for a while.  I just hope
there's enough time left to escape.  I have to warn the Council!

Maeve's arms felt more numb than before, if such a thing were possible - but
now that her legs were free, she was able to stand hunched, and take the weight
off her wrists.  It didn't seem to help at first, but soon she felt the
'pins and needles' feeling of blood returning to her hands, and was glad for
it, as uncomfortable as it was.

Now, Maeve thought, time to get those keys!  She calmed
herself and reached out with her magical senses, ever so slightly, to see if
she could reach her battle-trance, her Nairya.   She grinned when she
achieved a small success - the pains and aches of the last few days vanished,
and the silver hue of mage-sight filled her vision.   She let the
contact go; until she needed the power, maintaining contact was too risky.
She shuddered to think of what might happen if the Dreamers should surge again
before she was able to block their intrusions.  She was still slightly
under the effects of the drugs the turnkey had given her, but could tell they
were fast wearing off.

Maeve reached out with her left leg - the one with the blade-shoe, and slowly,
carefully cut loose Udo's belt from his body.   It was slow, tiring
work, but she persevered and soon had the dead turnkey's belt which held the
keys to her manacles resting against her feet on the cell floor.  She
tried not to think of the vile fluids they rested in - many of her own
making.  "Thank the Ladies I don't have to pick them up... at least,
not with my hands anyway."

She rested for a moment, leaning her weight against the cells' wall, thinking
fondly for a moment of a warm cup of brandy, a soft bed, and a firm body to
share it with.  "Ah well.  You can't have everything." she
muttered, and readied herself for the next task at hand, entering the Nairya.
It was easier this time - no doubt the extra time it had taken to cut loose the
keys to her manacles had also allowed the drugs to pass out of her
system.

She reached forth, summoning her power and calling for invisible hands to grasp
the keys, and move them up to her wrists.  It was a minor spell, but
Movement was also the weakest of the three Words of magic she possessed, and
even she had to admit she wasn’t too good at it..  She grunted at the
strain - the keys weighed maybe five pounds, if that, and yet it was like
lifting a heavy stone with one finger.  Still, the keys rose, and in
moments they hovered next to the locks.  There must have been at least
eighty keys.

I can't try all those, one at a time... I'll run out of strength for sure!
Maybe Sight will help...  "Which key is the one which will
free me?"  She wondered aloud.  Muttering her Rotes under her
breath to aid her concentration, Maeve wove a spell, and a few moments later,
was able to find the correct key.  To anyone else, the key would have
seemed inconsequential, but to Maeve's Sight enhanced mage-senses, it glowed a
bright blue.   One last push with Movement was all it took, and her
right hand was free!   Uttering a cry of relief, she grabbed the key,
and freed her left hand as well, dropping the Nairya at the same time.

She swept the loose strands of her long black hair out of her face and looked
over the cell, searching for anything that might give her an
advantage.   The keys.  The club.  That's about it,
she thought.  The turnkey's clothes are as filthy as mine, so there's
no point in taking them.  I might as well start searching - for clothes,
weapons, and for a way out of here, roughly in that order.   She
took a moment to reset the blade on her left shoe back into its hidden
compartment.  You never know when I might need that again, she
thought

Taking the nearly spent torch from its wall bracket, and holding the dead
turnkey's club in the other, she moved into the hallway.   Even with
the odds against her, she somehow felt better with a weapon in her hand - she
always had.  At least the passage is big enough I don't have to
crouch!  "Now," she muttered. "What's the safest way to
what I need?"  The choices were left, or right.  She went left,
creeping down the passage.

She passed a dozen cells on either side of her, but couldn't bring herself to
steal clothes from any of the occupants - in some way it was the only form of
dignity they had left.  Soon, she found a flight of stone steps that headed
upward - and none too soon, for her spent torch was guttering like a candle in
a breeze.   Upwards it is, she thought.  She crept up the
stairs quickly, and was soon rewarded by seeing torch-light up ahead, and the
sound of voices.  Maeve ground her torch out against the stairs, to avoid
giving herself away.

"Where is that idiot turnkey?"  a young, female voice said, rife
with frustration.

"I don't know, Linna - probably off torturing or molesting one of the
prisoners below."  The other voice sounded male, and a fair bit older
than the girls'.

"Well, I'm not waiting all day, Bel."

"So we just leave the soup, and go.  He'll find it when he gets back
from whatever he's doing.  Like the people down here care if their soup is
hot or cold..."

Soup!  Maeve's stomach growled when she heard that - she hadn't
eaten or drank anything except that foul Audorin root elixer for what must have
been at least a few days.  Clothes, too, if I can disable those two.
She move silently towards the light, keeping herself as deep into shadows as
possible.  Soon, her patience was rewarded - she spied the two speakers,
Linna and Bel, leaving a large cauldron of steaming soup in a chamber next to
the stairs.  Linna was a young, slender Madragan girl of maybe 17 years
with short brown hair, while Bel was older, maybe in his mid-thirties, pudgy
and with hair that was beginning to recede.  Linna wore a gray woolen
skirt and a green chemise, while Bel wore the long grey robe and black disc
necklace of an acolyte of Lady Delirium.  He also wore a shortsword at his
waist.

This just keeps getting better and better, Maeve thought.  Finally
something is going my way!   She moved up to the doorway where
the two stood, and prepared herself, raising her club to strike.

As luck would have it Bel reached the doorway first, when Maeve struck.
With a loud, meaty thwack, the acolyte went down, blood leaking from the cut on
his scalp where Maeve's club had struck him.  Maeve couldn't tell if he
was dead, or merely unconscious, and she didn’t really care which.  She
stepped in front of the doorway to block Linna's way of escape.

Linna looked at Maeve - naked from the waist down, covered in filth and vomit,
her long black hair encrusted with dried blood, what wasn't matted or crusted
together in lanky lumps - and panicked.  "Please - don't hurt me...
I'll scream!"

Maeve chuckled.  "Do you really think that anyone would be able to
hear the one sane person in this asylum screaming, above the hundred screams of
the mad?  I promise you this, girl - follow my orders exactly, and I won't
harm you.  Otherwise..."  She let the threat trail off into
Linna's imagination.

"Alright... just please don't hurt me!"  Linna cried, nearly
hysterical.  "What do you want?"

"First, I want you to drag Bel here into a cell.  Then I want both of
your clothes, and his sword - and don't bother trying to grab it, girl, or
you'll regret it."

"Our clothes?  Wha..."  Linna looked confused.

"Your clothes.  As you can see, mine have seen better
days."  Maeve smiled a bit.  "No more chit-chat.  Just
do it, or I'll club you senseless and do it myself."

Linna, nearly in tears, picked up Bel's supine form and dragged him into a
nearby cell.  Maeve followed her inside, and removed Bel's sword belt and
sword from his body, followed by his robe.  Linna stood there all the
while, crying and moaning in fear.

"Shut up, girl - do you think I want to hear that?  I said I wouldn't
hurt you."  Maeve said in an angry tone, waiting for Linna's tears to
stop.  "Now give me your clothes - all of them."  Linna
nodded, and started stripping.  Maeve accepted each garment as it came to
her, and soon Linna was naked, except for her shoes which Maeve tossed back to
her.  "Thank you.  Now all I need is directions on how to get
out of this House without being seen.  And trust me, I've met better liars
than you.  How do I get out?"

"Um...  Head up the stairs - they go to the kitchens - and then you
can either head left, through the main dining room, and out the main doors, or
you could head straight ahead, past the rear entrance to the Dreamers barracks,
and out through the laundry rooms."

"Thanks Linna.  Take care of your friend Bel, there girl."
With that, she turned, and after trying a few keys, locked the cell door behind
her.

Maeve carried the garments into the jailor's room and looked about, finding a
large basin of water.  Well, she thought, it's too small for a bath, but
it should suit my purposes well enough.  She tore off a bit of Bel's robe
to use as a washcloth, stripped off her filthy shirt, and started to clean
herself.  Soon, relatively clean again except for her hair, she dressed in
Linna's clothing, which was a surprisingly good fit.  Yep - still in
fighting trim, even at 29!  Maeve thought, grinning as she belted on
Bel's shortsword.  Now, for some of that soup!

The soup was thin and watery, and by now only tepid, but it tasted wonderful to
Maeve as she scooped bowl after bowl of the stuff into her.  When her
hunger and thirst was sated, she contemplated her next move - escape.  Up
the stairs, and to the north sounded like the best way, assuming Linna didn't
lie to me, she thought.  Still - she seemed to scared, and I'm a
fairly good judge of that.  I think I would have known.
"Right, straight to the laundry it is."  She said to no one in
particular, and headed up the stairs.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she paused.  If Linna and Bel had
just come with soup from the kitchen, there would be at least a few servants
there, cleaning, if nothing else.  Damn!  she thought.  I
didn't want to have to use magic again - I'm getting too near my
Threshold.  Still, it seems I have no choice.  She paused a
moment, muttering under her breath, and wove a shield of Sight around herself,
making her for all intents and purposes, invisible to all but the most strong
willed of people - for at least a little while.  Still, it might not
fool a dog's nose, she thought.

She moved into the kitchen; there was the ubiquitous piles of dirty dishes, and
a few scullery maids cleaning them - but other than that, the kitchens were
clear.  Moving silently, she padded over to the passage that led to the
laundry and moved down the hall.  As Maeve passed the open double doors
that led to the Dreamers' barracks, she couldn't help herself but pause.
"I wonder if the Dreamers from the madness are here too?" she
muttered quietly under her breath, damning her curiosity.  "I'll just
take a quick peek – it’s not like they'll tell anyone."

Maeve knew her curiosity was one of the most useful of her character traits - it
motivated her question the state of things, and to dig until she found the
truth - all of which made her an excellent and valuable investigator for her
church.  However, it sometimes also led her to do rather foolish things
for the same reason, and caused her no end of trouble.   Like now,
she thought.  Still - a quick peek wouldn't hurt.  She snuck into the
sunlit chamber.

Bed after bed lined the large chamber on either side of its longer walls - each
filled with a sleeping human form that occasionally mumbled something under
their breath.   They were of all nations - Valris, Madragoor, Iranor
and more - and all ages, from the young that had just succumbed to the Dreamer
illness, to the old and weak, near to death.  There must have been at
least a hundred of them there, Maeve thought.   To think that
this many were Mageborn, and survived!  It was more than astonishing -
it was unbelievable, and yet the evidence lay before her.

She walked quickly but quietly down the row of Dreamers, and it wasn't long
before she saw several of the Dreamers who had spoken to her during the time
she had been swept into their bout madness.   There was the
bronze-skinned Anorian man, and there the red-headed girl who had lamprey
arms.  They were all here.  Curiosity satisfied, she turned and
headed for the hall that would take her to the laundry, and from there, to
escape and freedom.

As she neared the end of the hall, the far doors opened without warning, and a
quartet of robed figures entered the chamber.  Oh Goddess!  I
should be gone from here...  Maeve thought, as she moved quickly to hide
herself from sight, even though she was effectively invisible - just in
case.  The four men and women, all wearing robes of Lady Delirium's clergy
moved down the hall towards Maeve, searching amongst the various Dreamers.

Have I been discovered?  Maeve thought with worry.  Have
they found Linna and Bel - or Udo?  What are they looking for?

Maeve's questions were answered a moment later, when on of the men stopped, and
motioned at the bed of the red-headed Valdan girl.  "This is
her."  One of them said; he too was an Anorian.  "His Grace
wants this one prepared for the ritual, immediately.  He thinks she is the
Bridge."

"The Bridge?  Do you really think so?" said another acolyte,
this one a woman.

"He must if he plans on calling upon an Utukku to search for
it."  an older acolyte said; this one, a pale, chunky Valdan, had
plainly had too much rich food and wine.

"Silence, you fools!  Do not profane His holy servants' names with
your uneducated words."  The Anorian acolyte said.  "Only
the High Clergy may safely speak of the...  The Holy Ones  in such a
manner.  To do otherwise attracts their attention, and no good can come of
it."

"Aye."  said the chunky one.  "You make good sense,
Linn.  Let's be about it."  He motioned for the other acolytes
to approach, and they unfolded a litter to carry the girl, while Linn and the
chunky acolyte lifted her bodily onto the litter for transport.

An Utukku!  Maeve thought.  They must be mad, or Hserinyar
- the two go pretty much hand in hand.  No one else she knew of would
be mad enough, or power-hungry enough to make deals with the Utukku, for Demons
(which is what they were), were notoriously hard to control, and literally evil
incarnate.

Damn!  It's only thirty feet to the laundry, and I could be gone from
this place - but if they actually plan on summoning a Demon with that Dreamer,
I can't just leave until I know what's going on - like that nonsense about a
Bridge.  Still, It must be important.  Maeve steeled herself, and
moved down the room to follow them, as quietly and as softly as she could,
damning her curiosity the entire way.

She followed them out into the hall beyond, into a small courtyard, and from
there into what could only be a small Chapel, dedicated to the Lady
Delirium.  As the acolytes entered the chamber, she stepped to one side,
and concealed herself in the shadows and stone pillars holding up the great
domed ceiling.   She grimaced when she saw a familiar face - the
traitorous Bishop Vargas's glare was a haunting memory she longed to wipe off
his sadistic face.  There were also a small number of acolytes chanting,
and she could smell the stench of bitter incense.

The preparations didn't take as long as Maeve thought they might; they anointed
her head and drew some sigils on her torso with consecrated oils, and that was
it.  She wondered if the girl was to be the focus of the ceremony - or the
sacrifice.  Either way, Maeve knew it was her duty to stop it.  What
good will the information I have be, if it’s too late to do anything about
it?  She thought.  I just have to wait for the right moment...

A door opened, and a middle-aged woman with long brown hair, who could only be
the High Priestess of the House, came through.  Dressed in violet robes
trimmed with gold, she moved in careful, ritualistic steps, stopping at a font
to cleanse herself, and then over to an acolyte, who anointed her with holy
oils.   She stepped up to the altar, where the nearly naked Dreamer
lay, and turned to Bishop Vargas.  "Is everything ready, Your
Grace?  I do not want to risk the Ire of the Holy Ones for anything less
than total success."

"I am confident, Mistress Awai.  I and my servants have performed all
the proper tests on the Dreamers here, and this girl is the only one here that
we might be able to form a Gateway with, and send your Holy Ones through.
She is the Bridge, as certain as I wear the Black Ring."

Maeve nearly choked in shock.  A wearer of the Black Ring, here?
The wearers of the Black Ring were an elite and powerful guild of magi that
rarely left Hserin for any reason.  For one to be here, and to somehow
have gained the position of a Bishop, only showed how important this Dreamer
was, and what they sought after.  And worse still, the priesthoods of
Lady Delerium and Hrask were clearly working together!  I am way, way, way
out of my league, Maeve thought.

Vargas looked around - as if he had heard something, and motioned to the four
acolytes who had brought the Dreamer.  "You four - search the
chapel.  Make sure we are alone, and undisturbed."  The Bishop
looked around the Chapel, pausing when nearing Maeve's hiding spot, but moving
on to the rest thereafter.  "I want no interruptions."

"Yes Milord."  They answered as one, and began to fan out to
search.

Maeve froze with panic.  I can't strengthen my spell now - not while in
their temple - Mistress Awai would sense it for sure.   And I can't
move, or I'll be seen.  This is bad... very bad!  Maeve kept
herself hidden in the shadows of the chapel, but somehow the shadows seemed
less encompassing than a few moments ago, and beads of sweat rolled down her
forehead.  She moved her hand to her sword-hilt, just in case - for all
the good it would do.  How in the seven hells can I stand against a
wearer of the Black Ring?

While the searchers fanned out, Mistress Awai began the ceremony to open the
gateway, and the already shadowy chapel, lit only by a dozen candles, seemed to
grow darker still.  Sounds seemed to creep out of the walls, half-formed,
to swirl about inside your head, and whisper in your mind.  Maeve felt a
thrill of terror as the ritual progressed, and as the searching acolytes came
nearer.

The one named Linn was nearest her, and she readied her hand on her sword to
strike if necessary.  She couldn't see the others in the darkness of the
magically dimmed chapel.  If she made even the slightest noise, she was
doomed...  He came closer as he searched, and Maeve felt a bead of sweat
collect on the tip of her noise, itching and begging to be
scratched.   When he was mere three feet from her hiding spot, he
turned and called "All clear." in a quiet voice, and Maeve heard the
other three answer the same.  Now was the time.

Maeve drew her sword and moved quickly up to the robed monk, and wrapped her
arm around his throat from behind, taking him unawares.  She stabbed once
with the sword - a hammer-blow through his back and into his heart, giving the
blade a vicious ninety degree twist once it sunk in; the monk named Linn died
voicing only a small groan.  Dragging the dead monk into the shadows, she
stripped him of his robe, and donned it, even though she felt guilty about
wearing the colors of another faith.  Still, she thought, it
might be the only way to get close enough to affect the outcome of the
ceremony...

She walked down the aisle towards the altar.  By now, a sickly green light
was forming on the floor of the dais where the altar rested, and the incense
smelled like burning meat mixed with ... something she couldn't identify, but
made her feel nauseous.  Mistress Awai was calling out in a tongue unknown
to Maeve - even the sound of it sounded like pain - and the chanting of the
acolytes was rising to a crescendo.  Getting a grip on her stomach, Maeve
moved up to the dais where the rest of the acolytes stood - present, but not
too close.  Nothing could have prepared her for what came next.

Suddenly, the green lights vanished, and the censers flared up as the rest of
their contents were utterly consumed.  The chapel was filled with a cold
chill, the scent of rotting meat, and an aura of fear.  The acolytes
beside her quailed, and abased themselves, muttering prayers to their
goddess.  She saw nothing, but she knew the Utukku was present.  She
knelt, too, to avoid giving herself away, but remained silent.

Mistress Awai nodded to the Bishop, who Maeve could tell had already been in
the Nairya for several minutes.  He seemed preternaturally calm for what
was occurring a few yards away from himself...  Maeve wondered what it
would be like to hold such power, and then dismissed the thought.  She was
a spy - an agent for the Askelinian church, not a sorcerer of his power.

Vargas stepped forward and called out "Demon!  Utukku!  I know
you are here!  Take on a physical shape, that we might parley.  I ask
a service of you."   If the corrupt Bishop felt any fear, he
didn't show it.

Slowly, a horrific form took shape in front of the Bishop, all the more
blasphemous for its humanoid shape.  Tall and muscular, the Utukku stood
over nine feet in height, and its huge batlike wings could easily span three
times that.  It was well- muscled, and its feet and hands ended in
razor-sharp talons, and its skin was grey-green, like mold that grows on rocks.
The demon's mouth hung open, twice the depth of any human jaws, and each was
filled with rows of very sharp teeth.  It reeked of brimstone and rotting
meat, yet the thing radiated a cold that chilled to the bone.

"What service do you ask, Human?"  When it spoke, the sound was
like knives in Maeve's mind, and she, like the other acolytes, whimpered in
pain.

"I want you to find the Anchor linked to this Dreamer, and bring him or
her, here to me.  I want you to take careful note of how and where this
person's world lies in the Void, so I may tell my master how he can seek it
out.  And I want you to kill everyone near him, so no one can tell how he
disappeared."  Vargas Elm spoke calmly, though he too was showing
signs of strain.  "In return, you can have this Mageborn Dreamer,
body and soul."

"No."  The demon's voice was harsh, and brittle with
anger.  "I want this one - the Askelinian you have allowed into our
midst."  Maeve looked up, and saw the demon pointing directly at her.
Cries of astonishment and anger came from the monks and acolytes around her.

Knowing her tricks were all for naught, she readied her Nairya and tried to
send a blast of mental force towards the Bishop.  Laughing, he struck it
aside with ease, and seconds later she felt dozens of rough hands grapple her
and immobilize her.

"Maeve Varda... again you plague me.  Did you think a wisp of magic
such as that could harm a Master of the Black Ring?  You are a
fool!"  He paused to laugh, and turned to the unholy Utukku.
“Yes - take this little spy.  I care nothing for her, and she deserves to
suffer."

"Damn you, Vargas!  This isn’t over!"

"Oh, but it is, little spy - or do you think you can escape the clutches
of a Demon as easy as a jail cell.  I assure you they are not nearly the
same."  The Bishop looked quite pleased with himself.
"This time, there will be no escape."

The Demon stood watching impassively until they were finished, before it
spoke.  “Mistress Awai, for allowing this non-believer into our midst, you
will be punished. You will live, although you may wish otherwise.”  The
Demon smiled grotesquely, and turned from the Mistress of the House of Broken
Dreams towards Vargas .  “I will do as you ask - Now complete the
Gateway!"

Mistress Awai paled at the threat, and nearly fainted, staggering back against
the Altar itself.   Still, she steeled herself and continued casting
her spells.  Suddenly, the floor grew dark, and a disc of blackness
opened, until it was almost ten feet wide.  Beyond its edge was
nothingness - a vast space of emptiness that Maeve could sense was linked to
the Dreamer on the altar.  The spell complete, Mistress Awai collapsed,
unconscious, although she probably wished she were dead.

"Give me my prize."  The Utukku said, holding out a taloned
hand.  "I will need sustenance after making such a long
journey."

Maeve fought hard, but against so many she had no chance, and when the Demon
grasped her, she froze at his touch, paralyzed by the unholy chill of his
grasp.   She couldn't move - she could barely feel her limbs, and she
knew she was going to die.  Goddess!  Please, save me!
She prayed - but there was no answer.  Knowing her fate was beyond human
comprehension, she tried to open her mouth to scream as the Demon stepped
through the gateway... and failed.  The gateway closed, and the Demon -
and Maeve - were gone.

Chapter 6 - The Neilson Clinic

The drive back to the Neilson clinic was a painful one.  Angela was
red-eyed with anger and emotion.  Eric hadn’t stopped sobbing for a
half-hour after they left their father in ICU, and he was sitting quietly in
the passenger seat, twitching and spasming the way he did when he was overcome
by too much emotion.  Eric thought she didn’t know he did that - but she
knew him better than that, after so many years.

Eric for the most part just cried, silent tears crawling down his cheeks.
He felt sad and angry - but also hollow, like something important had been
taken from him forever - like the ground had fallen away from beneath his
feet.  Overcome by emotion, he twitched and jerked as the spasms took
over, even as the voices in his head exulted in his pain.

Angie drove onward.  Later, as they turned into the drive of the clinic,
Angie turned to her brother.  “I’m sorry about what Dad said, Eric.
He’s being a real bastard.  He doesn’t see how much he hurts you.”

Eric looked at his sister, lucid for the first time in twenty minutes.
“Bull!  He knows exactly how much it hurts me, and that’s why he does
it.  Because he feels better when someone else is being hurt, instead of
him – it’s how he deals with his guilt.  I just wish he hadn’t said that -
I feel like I’ll never see him again.  Alive, I mean.” He turned away from
her, and looked out the window of the car.  “I don’t want to see him again
for awhile, Angie.  I think ...  I think I need to rest and get
better.  In my head.”

Angie nodded, sadly.  “Okay Eric.  I understand.  Do you want me
to visit next weekend?”

“If you want to, Angie.  I know you’re busy with work and stuff.  Do
you have a boyfriend still?  The last I heard you were with some guy named
Todd.  He could come too, if you want.”  Eric tried to relax, and
fall into the conversation with his sister, and talk about normal things for a
change.  It helped him feel normal.

“Heh.”  Angie exclaimed.  “Todd and I aren’t dating anymore.  He
got promoted and moved out west, and I wasn’t willing to go - though he did ask
me.  I’m not seeing anyone seriously right now.”

Eric looked at Angela, and saw her wistful look, gazing into the night.
He imagined she was thinking about what might have been, and knew he was the
reason she hadn’t gone west with Todd.  “I’m sorry, sis.”

“Sorry for what?”  She asked.

“You having to take care of me.” he said.

“We”re family, Eric.  Whether dad wants to believe that or not, I still
care about you - and I”m not going to leave you when you need my
help.   Todd could have stayed, too, you know.  No one forced
him to go to B.C.   It’s not your fault.”

Eric nodded, overcome with emotion once again, this time love for
his sister.  “Thanks Angie.  I love you too.”

Angie sniffled, and nodded.  “Now you better get in there before they come
out with the restraints.”  She joked.  “I’ll walk you in.”

The two siblings climbed out of Angela’s car, and walked into the Clinic, each feeling
a little better about the day, their father, each other, and what had occurred
in their visit.  Angie left Eric after saying her goodbyes, with the Night
nurse at the front desk - a tall, burly black man whose name tag read
‘Lennox’.  Lennox had a walkie-talkie and a night-stick in his belt, as
well as what looked like keys for half the building.  He paged Eric’s
floor, and soon another nurse - this one an attractive looking thirty-something
named ‘Sarah’ - came to get Eric.

Eric let Sarah lead him back to the third floor, thinking about how much like a
Prison a Mental Hospital was.  Structured, with rules and codes about
where you can go, and when you can do things.  Half the time he guessed he
ran from places like this because of the voices and the dreams – and the
spiders - and the other half because he didn’t want to become
institutionalized.  Some people can live with that, but Eric didn’t want
to be one of them.

Sarah made polite small talk, but Eric was too wrapped up in his own thoughts
and emotions from his visit with his father to really recall what she said,
although he did remember her cute face and curly brown hair.  He said
goodnight to her as he went to his room to get undressed, and before long she
re-appeared with his night-time medications.

“Here’s your Meds, Eric.  You think you can take them on your own, or do I
have to watch?  I heard you had a stressful afternoon, from the nurse
downstairs...”  Sarah had a look that said she knew everything that had
happened - Angela probably told them, in case he got upset and ‘freaked out’ or
something - but was being polite by not saying so.

The voices, long silent, came once again. Poison, Eric – they’re Poison.
Eric twitched involuntarily, but gritted his teeth and said “I can take them
myself.  Thanks though.  I had a pretty bad day - my dad...  I
don’t want to talk about it.”  Eric said, looking at his pills before
swigging them back with a small cup of water offered by the nurse.  He
opened his mouth and showed her that the pills were gone, wiggling his
tongue.  “What was the green pill for - I don’t normally get those.”

“Just something to help you sleep Eric.  You’ve had a hard day.”

Eric felt a cold chill run down his back - he had spent so long fighting sleep
on the streets, he had forgotten how to fight sleep in an institution.
And now he would pay the price... Die Eric!  We are coming for
You.  Soon Eric!  The voices grew stronger and stronger, and
soon, he could feel the tell-tale scurrying of bugs crawling over his
body.  He went rigid with fear, as they crawled up his legs, and then to
his torso, neck, and mouth - and finally, when he felt them crawl inside his mouth,
nose, and ears, as if they were trying to crawl into his brain, he couldn’t
keep from screaming anymore.

Sarah saw Eric’s state deteriorating quickly as soon as the words ‘Sleep’ left
her mouth.  Hoping for a quick fix, she helped him into bed, although she
was sure he didn’t even notice.  By the time she had him on his bed, she
knew he was going to blow.  She punched the Call button, and a few seconds
later, two orderlies helped her get Eric in full restraints.  They had him
fully tied down by the time he began screaming, and sedated soon after.
Soon Eric’s screams died down, and Sarah and the orderlies breathed a sigh of
relief.

Sarah turned to the two orderlies - Mike Connors and Bob Grundig.  Both
men had worked at the clinic for years, and pretty much had seen it all.
“Is he always like this?  You two brought him in - he was sedated then,
wasn’t he?”

Mike nodded.  “Seems so - he was normal one minute, cracking jokes - then
Pow!, out of nowhere he just starts to freak out.  We had to sedate him,
but he still kept twitching and screaming and moaning for a while.  I
don’t know if its normal for him or not though.”

“Aw hell, Mike.” said Bob.  “He’s a Crazy, and who can tell when or why
they freak out.  It’s just our job to tie them down and drive’em
around.  He’s probably coming off whatever drugs he was doing on the
street.”

“Hardly a caring attitude, Bob.”  Said Sarah, reaching for Eric’s chart to
check his blood-work, to see if he had been on drugs.  “You can be such an
asshole, sometimes - and he wasn’t on any drugs.”

“Well, then I don’t know what the hell is going on with him.  He sure
wasn’t ‘high on life’, and nobody I’ve ever driven from this place reacted the
way he did without being high on something illegal - I mean, it was like he was
on a bad LSD trip the way he was screaming so much.”

Mike nodded, reluctantly.  “He was scared to death of something, just
something we couldn’t see.  He does seem like a decent kid though.”

The three staff members left Eric’s room, and continued down the hall to the
nurse’s station as they talked.  Bob poured Mike a cup of coffee, and
Sarah checked in with the other nurses, looking over the notes Linda had left
earlier that day.   Slowly the evening passed into night, and the
cries of the insane became moans, and then the quiet sounds of drug-induced
sleep.  Soon, the only noise on the floor was the occasional gurgle of the
ice machine, and the whisper of the nurses and orderlies as they watched over
their sleeping wards.

*
*          *

Maeve screamed for what seemed like an eternity, held tight in the clutches of
the Utukku - the Demon - and prayed to the Goddess she had forsaken in her
heart.  Her prayers were not heard, at least not by Holy Askeline.
The Void was lit by a dim silver light that seemed like far away stars, yet
there was nothing to see.  It was cold - colder than anything she had ever
felt before - and full of an emptiness that went beyond her ability to conceive
- as if such a thing could have a palpable presence, like the feeling of being
watched by many eyes.

Hold still, Maeve Varda, the Utukku said, his voice hollow and
muted.  The path is treacherous, and I would not lose you to my
brethren.   He needn’t have bothered - she was still as paralysed
with fright as with the Demon’s unnatural cold - she couldn’t move if she
wished to.  All she could do was scream, and her screams sounded hollow to
her ears.

The Utukku flew onward, led by some invisible signal that only it could see,
following a tenuous path to gods knew where.  The Demon chuckled, a
horrible burbling sound that came from deep within its chest.  Ah...
The one we seek is not unknown to my kind.  They watch him even now.
He rests in a place like the House I was summoned to - all there is to do is
find out where...  Suddenly, it was over, and Maeve felt a wrenching
pain and a snap, as she was wrenched by the Utukku from the Void, into a dimly
lit room, although where that room was, Maeve did not know.

The Utukku glanced at his surroundings, as if the dimness of the light didn’t
impede his vision in the slightest, and released Maeve.  Maeve fell to the
floor, her limbs numb with cold, and shivering with fear.  There was some
light spilling into the room from beyond a partially open door- it seemed
almost like a beacon, after the darkness of the Void.  Maeve tried to move
away from the Utukku, and found she could only barely crawl, and that
clumsily.  Oddly, it didn’t try to stop her, but instead moved towards an
odd bed, where an old woman slept.  The Utukku turned to her, and spoke
within her mind, like icy knives.   I need sustenance - but I will
not forget you Maeve.  Run - hide, if you can.  I will enjoy hunting
you down, after I complete my goal here.  I prefer helpless prey - their
terror is so sweet, and you still have too much fight left in you.  Hide
while you can, little human.  Maeve didn’t need to be told twice, and
crawled like mad for the door - and the light.  As she crawled into the
hallway beyond the door, she saw a man, and cried out, reaching out for help.

*
*          *

In his room in the clinic, Eric slowly drifted in his sedative induced
haze.  The nurses would probably describe him as ‘resting comfortably’,
but he was more half-awake, half-dreaming, the drugs taking the edge off his
nerves and stress and allowing him to relax.   Eric’s thoughts
drifted...  Why does the food always taste so bland in places like
this?  It’s like they’re allergic to spices - and for some reason there’s
always jell-o or pudding involved.  Why do they serve dinner so damn
early, anyway?  5pm isn’t dinner time.   Eric smirked
despite himself.  My dad hates me, my friends are dead, I’m hurt and in
an institution, and here I am bitching about dinner not having the drink-box I
wanted.  What the hell is wrong with me?

Eric drifted slowly for a while in his sedative induced rest, and slowly the
architecture of the clinic changed - and Eric found himself in a nightmare land
where his Voices tormented him with visions of torture, death, and the fate of
his soul and his mother’s.  Eric was in the park again, and saw his mother
and father, and Angela there by their maple tree, having a simple picnic lunch
spread on a blanket.  He tried to run over to them, desperate to see his
mother, and afraid of what would happen if he did - the spiders again - but
couldn’t move forward, even though he felt he was running as fast as he
could.  He cried out to them, and his family turned at his voice, their
eyes hollow sockets, and their mouths like that of a lampreys, and the Voices
he feared issued from the awful mouths of the mockery that used to be his
family.  We are coming to get you, Eric.  Not later - not when
you die - but Now.

“Gah!”  Eric woke with a start, panting hard, and even though still
slightly sedated he knew something was wrong.  It was night - the clinic
was dark, and even though he could hear the usual comforting sounds - the TV at
the nurse’s station, and the beep-beep-beep of various health monitors in other
rooms, Eric felt something was deeply wrong.  He tried to sit up, and
found himself in restraints.  Geez, what did I do this time?
He thought, only slowly remembering.  I must have really flipped
out.  I have to get free.

“Nurse?” he called.  “Nurse!  Help - I need to go to the bathroom!”
The old tricks work the best, he thought.  It was almost a truism -
nobody liked cleaning soaked bed sheets - so someone was sure to come.

*
*          *

It was about 5:45pm, and Sarah, Mike and Bob were at the nursing station, sipping
on coffee and taking a break from doing their rounds.  An old re-run of
Baywatch was on the TV, and Mike and Bob were watching the usual T&A.
Bob was drinking an unused drink-box off of one of the patients trays - dinner
had been served a little over a half-hour ago.  Sarah looked on in mock
disgust, and said “You know guys.”  She said.  “I’ll bet David
Hasslehoff has chest implants too.  It seems to be a requirement for that
show.”

Mike laughed, and Bob snidely retorted “Like you’d know.”

“Screw you too, Bob.  At least I’m almost done.  Only a couple of
more minutes – I’m outta here at six!” Sarah said.

A few moments later, they heard Eric calling.

“I’ll get it.” said Mike.  “If he’s not freaking out, he should be good
enough to go to the can.  Either that or a bedpan.”

“Better that than cleaning it in the morning.” said Bob.  “You take care
of the crazy - Sarah and I’ve got some rounds to do.”  He got up from his
chair, stuffed the remains of a Twinkie into his mouth, and headed off for the
east wing, armed with the usual stethoscope, clipboard and pen.

Mike walked to Eric’s room - North 304 - and went inside.  Eric was awake,
still restrained.  Eric looked tense, like he did have to go.  He
turned on the bedside light.  “You gonna be good if I let you out of the
restraints, Eric - no more screaming and freaking?”

“Yeah – I’ll be good - Mike, right - from the ambulance?”  Eric said,
slowly, still trying to clear his head from the sedatives he had been given.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I won’t freak - I just didn’t want to wet the bed.”  It was odd how the
lie came so naturally, but Eric learned on the streets, and in therapy, that
sometimes the truth was not the best policy.   He didn’t need to go -
he needed to clear his head and think, free of the restraints.

Mike nodded, and started undoing the restraints.  “Just be good, and we’ll
all be friends here, Eric.  You need me to help you to the bathroom?
You look a little wobbly.”

“Nah - thanks though.” said Eric.  “I’ll be okay once I walk a bit.”
In truth, Eric did feel more than a little wobbly, but needed to be by himself
for a moment.

“Fine.  I’ll just wait a bit to make sure you’re okay.”

Eric lurched down the hall, and into the bathroom, and turned on the cold water
tap, and washed his face.  The chilled water helped clear his head, except
for the susurrus of voices that constantly filled the background of his
mind.  He went into a stall, and sat for a moment, to think.  Was
what I heard real?  He thought to himself.   It sounded
real - closer somehow.  More real than a dream or a voice.  “Shit
- what if it is real?” he muttered.   Can I trust the voices in my
head?  He thought.  Am I really in danger or am I being
paranoid, crazy or manipulated?   Eric couldn’t tell.

*
*          *

Bob walked down the East wing, checking room after room, patient after patient
- doing his rounds, like usual.  He wasn’t in a rush - after all, it was
same-old, same-old every night.  Then he saw her outside 310, a woman
dressed in a bloodstained grey robe, like a medieval monk’s, on the floor.

She cried out some garbled gibberish, and tried to crawl towards him - and he
saw she was wearing a sword at her waist.  “What the hell?” he yelled, and
grabbed his walkie talkie.  “Sarah, Mike – we’ve got problems in the East
wing.  Get security here, stat!”

Sarah looked up from her paperwork at Bob’s call, and checked her
monitors.  “Oh crap.  Bob, there’s something wrong in 310.  Mrs
Shadley’s readings went dead.  Check to make sure she didn’t pull out the
leads in her sleep again, okay?”

Bob yelled into the walkie talkie “Sarah, you are so far off base here you’re
in another stadium – there’s a woman with a fucking sword, covered in blood,
crawling out of Shadley’s room!  Get security here now!”   Bob
hit the panic button on the wall, and tried to approach the woman a little to
see what was going on in room 310.

Inside room 310, the Utukku had slowly woken the woman sleeping in the bed, and
paralyzed her with his chill presence, then opened a vein in Mrs Shadley’s
leg.  It drained her blood - slowly enough that she would see and feel herself
die.  By the time Bob stepped over the bloodstained woman in the hall, the
Utukku had just begun stripping the flesh from her bones, and eating it with
his enormous distended jaws.

Bob stared for a moment, paralyzed by fear.  His pen dropped from his numb
hand, and landed on the floor with a tiny click.  “Holy Christ!” he
whispered, the woman at his feet forgotten, instead seeing only the gory
carnage before him, and the impossible creature causing it.

The creature turned its head, at the sound of the pen falling to the floor, and
its unholy eyes burned into Bob’s mind.  I know you. it
seemed to say. I know how you like to feel the female patients up when
they’re sedated, Robert Grundig.  That makes you evil, Robert.  That
makes you Mine.

Bob Grundig turned to run, and screamed like all the devils in hell were after
him.  It was the last thing he ever did.   The last sight anyone
on earth had of Bob Grundig, was Maeve.  Even though she didn’t understand
his words, she understood his fear - and knew he would be the next to
die.  Fear pushing her onward, she stumbled to her feet and ran while she
heard the Utukku begin to feed once more.

*
*          *

Even as Bob’s Walkie-talkie faded out, Sarah dialled security.
“Lennox,  we have a situation!”  She tried to hear what Lennox said -
probably something stupid like ‘What kind of situation?’ - but security alarms
were going off and that was when Bob gave his last, soul-chilling scream.
“Shit Lennox - get up here and bring a fucking gun!  Call
911!”  Sarah looked up at the four-way mirrors that allowed the nursing
station to see down the main hall of each wing - and saw a bloodstained woman,
with a sword running down the hall towards her.   “Jesus Christ,
Lennox – there’s a woman with a sword up here, and she’s covered with
blood!   I think she killed Bob!”  Sarah dropped the phone, and
hid behind the counter, crying and begging for her life.

*
*          *

Eric was still in the bathroom, when he heard Mike’s walkie-talkie squawk Bob’s
last cries for help.  He heard Mike yell “Eric - stay there, and don’t
come out.  Oh Jesus!”   Eric could hear the fear in Mike’s voice
- he felt it himself.  He figured anyone who heard another human being
scream that way would feel fear.   Is it my voices?  Are they
really real? Really here?  Eric was nearly paralysed by fear, but knew
if he didn’t get up now, and see for himself, he might never know the truth -
and that would be worse than dying.  He ran out of the washroom, after
Mike, and down the hall towards the nurse’s station.  Sarah was screaming
for mercy, and begging not to be killed, while a wild-haired woman, dressed in
a gray decorated robe drenched with blood stood there, warily watching Mike -
and him.

*
*          *

Maeve clumsily ran onward, down the strange hallway, warmth starting to slowly
seep into her body again.  Softly glowing lights were in the ceiling, but
she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how they worked - and everything
seemed so odd.  Harsh alarm sounds rang throughout the building, and she
saw people begin to emerge from various rooms.  She could barely figure
out what half of anything was, and couldn’t read any of the gibberish these
people used for a language.  A young woman was screaming into a tiny
hand-held thing with a cord - and then dropped it, whimpering and screaming as
Maeve approached, hiding behind the counter where she apparently worked.

Maeve took stock of her situation - it was bad - worse than bad.  She
heard sounds from another hallway, and saw two men approach her.  One was
dressed like the other man, wearing light blue clothes, with odd shoes, and an
odd necklace and a board in his hand.  The other man was dressed in
different clothes, and looked both younger; pudgy, yet hardened by life.
He had bandages on his hands and face, and looked like he had been in a recent
brawl.  The man in blue seemed to be trying to protect the younger
man.  His son?  She thought.  All she knew is that the
alarms and the woman screaming was driving her crazy!

“Shut up!  Please, Shut up!” Maeve yelled.  “We’re all in great
danger!  Please help me!”  She could almost feel the Utukku finishing
with the first man - and that meant soon he would be coming for her and the
others.   Dammit, she thought – he’s here to find a
bridge.  A bridge to what?   This place?   Can a
person be a Bridge?  Or was it an Anchor?  Her thoughts flew like
lightning through her brain, until she realized what the Demon was here for - a
person, somehow linked to the young dreamer in the House of Broken Dreams, who
could lead the Hserinyar to this place, for Goddess knows what reasons -
probably bad ones.  If he or she was brought back, that is.  I
need to keep the demon from finding that bridge or anchor, she
thought.  Even if I have to kill him or her to do it.

*
*          *

Eric stood behind Mike as the scared, blood covered woman screamed at Sarah.
“Di Cantas!  Arrafa Di Cantas!   Tua Jenn Nadog!  Arraffa
Mi Condir!” and rocked backward as if slapped.  Those words - some of them
were new, but the others - he had heard them before, from the woman’s voice in
his head - the sing-song babble he had heard in his dreams the day Christine
had found him in Rat City - where Norm and Dave were killed less than 48 hours
ago.  His mind whirled like a storm as he realized the
implications...  Unless he couldn’t trust his senses - the smell of coppery
blood, the woman’s fearful voice saying those particular words, then it must
follow the voices he heard, at least some of them, were real - because she was
real.  And he believed he was sane.

Stepping up next to Mike, he tried to call out to her, the way he had heard her
call out in his dream.  “Tir Ballas Mi Condir!  Arrafa Mi
Condir!”

Maeve heard the words come from Eric – ‘Ladies of Mercy, Help me.  Please,
Help me.’ -    the same words she had screamed in the House of
Broken Dreams, just as the Dreamers carried her into their mass delusions and
insanity.  That young man, she thought.  He must be the
Bridge!  She drew her sword - she either needed to protect this man
long enough for him - and hopefully herself - to hide from the Utukku, or she
would need to kill him herself to keep the Hserinyar from succeeding in their
goal.

Mike looked at Eric and yelled “Eric get the hell back!” and then, after doing
a double-take “What the fuck did you just say?  Do you understand
her?”  Mike edged back as the woman approached with her drawn sword,
stained with what looked like dried, crusted blood.

“No!”  Yelled Eric.  “Just some stuff I heard.”  He said as he
backed away, and ran for his room.  Obviously the woman was no friend - that
sword had blood on it, and Eric doubted it was animal blood.  He needed
real clothes, and a way out - fast.  As he turned to run, he snatched the
keys to the ward off Mike’s belt, and sprinted for his room.  Mike would
have to take care of himself.

Mike cursed as Eric grabbed the keys, but stood warily, trying to defend Eric,
even though his clipboard was no match for the crazy woman’s sword - when he
saw the Thing emerge from 310 East into the hall.  It was huge - nine feet
tall at least, with wings like a giant bat’s, but reminded him of a shroud more
than an animal.  It was scrunched over, hunching in the hallway, which was
too small for the impossible creature.   Its mouth dripped gore from
too many rows of teeth, and its claws pulled something limp and squishy behind
it, like a water-filled balloon that was mostly empty.  Then he saw was
the squishy thing was, and even mortal fear couldn’t keep him from
vomiting.   It was Bob - only, with no bones, except maybe his skull.
The rest was just a sack of meat and fluid.   Then fear filled him,
and he ran.

Maeve saw the young man grab some keys from the man in blue, and run for a
room.   She guessed where she must be - some form of prison, or maybe
sanatorium, perhaps?  Still, she needed that boy.  Then, the man in
blue paled and grew afraid, looking at something behind her. Not needing to
look, she knew what he saw - the Utukku had come to kill the rest of
them.  He began to vomit, and she dodged past him, and towards the room the
young man had entered.  No one else here mattered, at least to her -
perhaps if the Demon stopped to kill him, it would give her a few extra seconds
to find the young man and escape.  It isn’t noble, she thought - but
all I can do now is try to salvage what hope I can.  I can’t let the demon
have that young man!

*
*          *

Lennox, hearing the screams from the third floor, immediately hit the
panic button on his station, and called the front gate.  Automatic systems
called ambulance, police and fire departments to respond, and the elevators
were shut down and locked.  “Jimmy – We’ve got problems in the violent
ward!  Keep the gate shut until the police get here.”

Linda Niven, the RN in charge, knocked on Lennox’s door, and he allowed her
into his security booth.  “What’s going on, Lennox?” she said, the stern
look on her face both worried and angry.

“I don’t know, Linda.  Sarah was screaming about Bob being killed by a
woman with a sword on Three.  I hit the panic button - you know,
procedure.  The cops and everyone else should be here soon.  I just
hope it’s soon enough.”

Linda nodded, hoping it was enough too.

*
*          *

The Utukku emerged from the room where he fed, dragging Bob Grundig’s boneless
corpse with it.  Alarms were screeching, horribly loud klaxxons that
drilled into your ears and head.  The Utukku ignored them, and stalked
after its prey.   It saw Maeve run down a hall, and another man vomit
in horror.  It pleased the Demon, to be feared.  Still, he was too
weak - he needed more food.  The Utukku approached the counter in the
center of the X shaped building, and plucked the woman screaming from behind
the desk. Sarah  it said. It’s time to die.  With a
twist of its muscular wrist, it snapped Sarah’s neck like a twig, and began
feasting.  Fresh blood flowed from the nurses body onto the clinic’s
floor, only to cling to the creature who had killed her, like a sheathe of
warmth around its unnatural body.

When the Demon finished feasting, it unleashed an unholy roar, a scream for
blood and bone, that raised louder and louder, until even the screams of the
insane and the howling alarms were drowned out by it.  Tempered glass
shivered, but didn’t break, and many patients fell to the ground,
comatose.  Others, in the ward, sensing somehow a kindred spirit, grew
agitated and tore at their room, their hair, and themselves.  Soon, blood
began to flow like water.  It could smell its true prey close.  The
Utukku smiled, while some of the patients fell comatose and others freaked out,
tearing at themselves and each other.  It was total mayhem.

*
*          *

Eric was in his room and dressed in his black jeans, his blue tee-shirt half
over his head, when the woman with the sword burst in.  He quickly slid
the shirt on, and grabbed his boots and jacket.  “What... what are you
going to do?” he said.  Duh!  He thought.  She probably
doesn’t understand a word I’m saying.  When the woman made no hostile
moves towards him, except to shut the door, he laced up his boots.  She
jabbered in more of her odd, sing-song language, but he didn’t even recognise a
few of the words.  All he could do was shrug his shoulders, and finish
getting his boots laced.

Meanwhile, Eric heard some of the other patients in the halls, over the alarm
sirens.  “What’s going on?”  “Is this a fire drill?”  “Help me.”
He ignored them all, and looked at the woman.  He was about to try
talking to her again, when they heard another scream - this one from a woman -
from the nurse’s station.   What the hell is going on?
Thought Eric.  If she’s in here with me, and people are still dying,
then who the hell is out there?   Even as he asked himself, he
already knew the answer - the creatures that belonged to his voices had at last
come for him, just like they said they would.

Then they heard the Demon’s triumphant roar.  Somehow realizing that roar
was meant for him alone, Eric screamed “We have to get out of here!”  He
threw on his beloved leather jacket, and filled his pockets with his personal
effects.  “We have to go now, or we’ll die!”  He held up the keys and
jangled them, pointing to the door - and she seemed to understand,
nodding.  The woman moved to the door, and he followed.  The hallway
was a chaotic mess of unconscious people, and screaming, raving crazies.
Eric felt like screaming himself, and shouldered past a bearded man staggering
aimlessly in the hallway towards the fire doors and the stairwells at the end
of the hall.   Eric!  She is a killer!  Hide,
Eric.  Running will get you killed!   The voices
screamed in his head, and his mind - already overloaded with sensory input -
nearly shut down, and he fell to the floor, curling into a fetal position,
whimpering.  The keys skittered out of his hands, and across the hall.

Maeve looked at the young man dressing in front of her; he seemed to have a
plan - at least of an idea of how to escape.  He tried to talk to her -
but his speech made no sense.   Damn!  If I’m going to try to
escape with him, I’ll need to be able to talk to him - which means I‘m going to
have to try and use magic, she thought.  “I’m going to try something -
something that will make you understand me,” she yelled, for all the good it
did.   She tried to enter the Nairya, and managed to somehow find her
focus.  As she felt the trance click, she drew on her powers of Sight,
muttering the spell to learn the young man’s language.  It would last less
than an hour - but that might be enough.  And then she heard the Utukku
scream.

The young man screamed “We have to get out of here!” and quickly stuffed some
things into his pockets.  “We have to go now, or we’ll die!”  He held
up the keys and jangled them, pointing to the door.  Maeve nodded, and
moved to the door - to cover him, if needed, when he went into the hall.
They moved into the hall, the young man shouldering past a bearded man
wandering aimlessly, and made for a door at the far end of the hallway, marked
‘EXIT’ in large red letters that glowed.   And suddenly, he fell to
the floor, screaming and yelling and clutching at his head, like there was
something inside it, trying to get out - and then he curled up, helpless and
moaning.  It was then Maeve realized she had left one sanatorium for
another.

She reached for the Power again, this time drawing on Mind and Spirit, laying
her hands on the young man’s arm.  She felt the power surge through her,
and into the young man.  She travelled with the power, in a way, and
realised he had been plagued by voices for many years, and he was falling into
a mental form of shock.  First she eased his mind, and quieted the voices
- his whimpering slowed, then ceased.  She wasn’t able to quiet the voices
totally - that much was beyond her, but she was able to dim them enough for him
to function.  It isn’t perfect, she thought, but it will hold for a few
minutes at least.  She could feel herself stretched thin, like cheap
parchment - she was dangerously close to her threshold!

“Can you walk?” she yelled.  “Is that the door we want ?”

Eric, hearing the woman numbly, nodded.  “How did you do that?  I
mean how can I understand you?” he said, getting up and grabbing the keys from
where they fell.

“Later, after we see if we live or not.  I’m Maeve.” she said.

“I’m Eric.  Just tell me you didn’t kill anyone with that sword.” Eric
said, looking worried.

“I did, but not anyone in this building, if that helps.” Maeve answered.  Why
lie, she thought.  He might as well know.

“Not really.” Eric said, thinking, Holy Shit am I in trouble now... and
said  “Follow me.”  Eric ran to the fire door, and pushed his way
through it and then they were into the stairwell.  Emergency lights were
on, lighting the grey concrete stairs, and Eric ran downward as fast as he
could, followed by Maeve, still carrying the bloody sword.

*
*          *

The Utukku stalked from room to room, killing as it went.  Doors meant
nothing to a creature formed of spirit, and to whom a physical body was only a
convenience, not a necessity.   It caused some of the patients to see
- and be overwhelmed by their deepest fears, and other patients to see the
other patients as their worst enemies.  Some, the creature threw from
windows, the tempered glass shattering under its immense strength, the bodies
falling pell-mell into the yard below, splattering with an almost poetic thump.
Soon, everyone was dead on the third floor, except one man, a man he could not
touch.  A crying man in a soiled blue uniform, trying without keys to open
a locked door he thought would lead him to safety.

The Utukku raged with anger that a mortal was to be denied him, for his kind
must follow rules, and there were rules far older than any written ones - and
in them it was said the truly good cannot be touched.  Still, the man was
so afraid he had soiled himself and was sobbing tearfully, believing he was
doomed.  The Utukku studied him; he could smell the stench of his prey all
over this man.  The Utukku entered the man’s mind - Mike Conners - and
said  Tell me about the young man you know as Eric.  Tell me
everything.  Mike didn’t know much - but he told what he did know,
before his sanity, and consciousness left him.

*
*          *

Lennox, and Nurse Niven watched the horror scene display before them on the
security camera’s on the third floor.  When the shadow on the camera broke
Sarah’s neck, and then somehow absorbed the blood, Lennox couldn’t resist any
more and vomited in a trash can.  Linda Niven, who had thought she’d seen
it all, was sickened, and horrified.  Patient after patient was killed
without remorse, bled dry, and then defiled, by something immensely strong, and
yet appeared only as a blurred shadow to the security cameras.

Both the head nurse and the security guard were pretty sure there wasn’t anyone
alive on the entire third floor, until Lennox saw someone descending the North
stairwell.  “Look, Linda – someone’s alive - two people!  It looks
like the new guy - I think his name is Eric - with someone else.”

Linda Niven studied the camera for a few moments. “Eric Van Helstrome - a
Paranoid Schizophrenic.  He was admitted last night.”  She
paused.  “Look at the woman, Lennox - what is she carrying?  Is that
a baseball bat, or a sword, like you said Sarah was screaming?”

Lennox looked, as the pair descended from the third floor to the second floor
landing, and said “A sword – she’s definitely got a sword.”

“Do you think Eric is a hostage?” she asked

“Maybe.  What do we do?”  Lennox looked worried; he had only been with
the Clinic for three years, and had never experienced a meltdown as bad as this
one was turning into.  Neither had Linda, and she’d been working mental
hospitals for thirty-odd years.

“We wait.  They can’t get out without us buzzing them out - and all the
other doors are locked down, and secure.  We’ll have to decide when they
get here.”  Linda licked her lips, worried that this crisis was already
beyond her skill to handle, and wondered what to do.

*
*          *

Jerry Aquino, a 20 year police veteran in York Regional Police was sitting with
his partner Keith Kristoff; they were taking a moment, and trying to grab a
bite to eat when the call came in – ‘Unknown disturbance at Neilson
Clinic.’   Keith responded to dispatch, and they hit their lights as
Jerry started the car and turned it into traffic.   Jerry hated calls
from the Clinic - he didn’t like dealing with crazy people - you could never
tell what they were going to do.  You couldn’t trust them to act
normal.   He knew Keith wasn’t fond of them either – he’d nearly been
knifed by one a few years ago on what had seemed like a normal call.  The
guy came out - all sweetness and light - and then started stabbing at
everything in reach when they got within arm’s reach.   I guess
that’s why they’re there, isn’t it though.  They need the extra
help.  We’d better get over there and see what the hell’s going on.

They drove fast - sirens blaring at times to clear the traffic out of the way -
even this far out of Toronto, rush hour went on till after 6pm.
They drove up the two lane highway, and turned into the clinic, driving right
up to the front door, stopping at the base of the steps.   Keith and
Jerry got out of the car and started surveying the scene around them for threats.

Jerry could see patients at the windows, screaming and bashing them with
bleeding hands or chairs, tearing at their eyes and hair.  Patients in
other windows were running amok, screaming and flailing too and fro.  Both
officers could hear the muffled screams of the patients.   Holy
Shit!  Jerry thought.  What the fuck is going on?

Keith turned to Jerry, a shocked look on his face.  “Should we call for
backup?”

At that moment, one of the third floor windows exploded outwards, turning into
thousands of shards of razor edged plexi-glass.  A body, flung by
unimaginable force catapulted out the window, and landed with a horrific splat
between the two officers.

Jerry mutely noticed the corpse didn’t seem to have any bones - it kind of
split like a water balloon filled with custard.   He didn’t know what
to say - nothing in his career had prepared him for carnage like this.  He
looked at his partner of ten years, and simply said “Yup.”

Without words, the two officers ran like hell back to their car.  Jerry
threw the car into gear and gunned the engine - all he could think was ‘get the
fuck out!’ - and Keith was screaming into the radio, scared shitless.  “We
need backup - all hell’s broken loose here.  A body came through a
window... its chaos!”

Jerry pulled the car up to the road, lights flashing about 100 meters away from
the clinic.  He took a moment to grab his breath.  “We’ve got to set
up a perimeter - keep anyone from getting closer.  Wait till backup gets
here.”

Keith nodded...  And while they sat there and watched, they saw three more
bodies come out of the windows, thrown by great force.  “Holy shit, Jerry
– there’s another one coming out of the fourth floor... What the hell is going
on in there?”

Jerry shook his head.  “I don’t know, Keith.  No fucking clue.”

*
*          *

Eric and Maeve ran as fast as they could, nearly falling down the stairs in
their haste, first the second floor, and then the first. At ground level, Maeve
looked around, taking in the odd construction of the building - the floor was
made of stone, yet she could perceive no crevices between bricks, or even if it
had been made of bricks.  There were odd devices on the walls, with lights
that turned left and right, and more signs with glowing red
letters.   Then they were through, and onto the ground floor.

Compared to the Third floor of the Neilson Clinic, which was painted a neutral,
calming institutional green, and decorated with slabs of off-white tile, the
ground floor was luxuriously appointed in lavender wall-to-wall carpet, and
fine oak panelling offset at intervals with full length mirrors and small stone
fountains that were sculpted in the shape of cherubs.  The lights above
were fashioned to appear like old Victorian Gas-lamps, and yet gave off a
bright, comforting light.  It was a show of ostentation and class that
made Eric nauseous.

Typical, he thought.  The ground floor is a virtual utopia,
probably with game rooms and offices and  recreation facilities to impress
the families of the patients left here - rooms which the patients rarely, if
ever, were able to use.   He didn’t begrudge being sent here - better
here with Angie looking after him than a lot of other places - but the
disparity of the display of wealth and what the patients actually saw still
made him mad.

Maeve looked at the place in wonder.  Are we in a palace?, she
asked herself.  This place seemed to have impossible things piled one
upon the other, seemingly endless.  How did the lights glow, yet never
flicker?  Who would waste such fine and rich decorations such as the
fountains and rugs on an asylum?   An asylum for nobles, perhaps -
but a madhouse all the same.  It seemed insane, which made her
chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t really know how to explain - and I don’t think we have the time,
Eric.  Did you see the... thing... upstairs?”  Maeve answered, a
question for a question.

“Uh... no.  I heard it scream, I think I heard people dying, but I never
actually saw it.  What is it?  One of my voices?  A Demon?”
Eric was scared asking, thinking this woman would think him crazy - when
he felt sane for the first time in three years.   Even with her
standing there in some quasi-medieval robe, covered in blood and wielding a
wedge-shaped short sword.  He could almost feel his voices, crowding
around something in his mind, trying to get in, but being held back - by what,
he didn’t know - but he still thanked God for small favors.

“In a word, yes - it has other names too, but basically it’s a Demon.  It
will hunt us until it kills me, and captures you, for the Goddess knows what
purpose.”  Maeve said - so bluntly that Eric found he couldn’t help but
believe her.

“It wants me for something?”  Eric stammered, his terror rising.  He
could feel whatever shields within his mind begin to crumble, but he fought
back the voices, for the moment.

“Yes, but it would take too long to explain, and I need to keep you alive and
away from it.  Is there anywhere safe - away from here?”  Maeve began
to look worried, and glanced upward, as if the creature would descend through
the ceiling itself.  “We’re wasting too much time.  We need to go.”

“Okay.”  Eric said - he didn’t need to be told twice.  Not
here.  Not tonight.  “Follow me.”

The two would-be escapees ran up to the main hall, dominated by a huge domed
ceiling set with an elaborate crystal chandelier.  Maeve halted for a
moment, taken in by yet more extravagant grandeur in an asylum, while Eric
continued over to the security booth, and saw Linda Niven and the security
guard from earlier inside, just before the very attractive, but bullet-proof
tempered glass that made up the grand main entrance.

“Hey!” he cried.  “Hey - Linda... Mrs. Niven - let us out, please!
There’s something upstairs killing people!  I think it’s me it wants!”

Linda, who shook her head.  “We can’t do that Eric - the woman over there
– she’s covered in blood, and she may have killed people with that sword.
The police need to deal with her.  The police will be here shortly.
You’ll be all right in a few minutes - just stay away from her.”

“We don’t have a few minutes!”  He yelled, panic rising.  “It’s after
me - I know it is!”

“Eric, it’s your delusions talking.  The killer is the woman behind you,
not some mythical monster or spirit.”  Linda said, even though at this
point she only half-believed it, clinging to clinical descriptions of
psychological trauma like a drowning person does a life-preserver.

Maeve ran over, and yelled “What’s taking so long - get the door open!”
And tried to break down the window with her sword - which shivered the glass,
but didn’t break it.  She stared in shock as her sword bounced off what
seemed to be fragile, and yet was harder than Madragan steel.

Eric moaned in panic, then grabbed Maeve, before she could make a second swing
against the glass.  “There’s no point - the glass is bullet-proof, and
they think you’re the one who killed all those people upstairs.  They
won’t let us out until the police get here - and arrest you.”

Maeve turned and looked at the man and woman in the glass booth.  The
younger black man was obviously afraid, and yet unwilling to go against the
older, more severe woman with him.  She was clearly in charge.  She
would need to use the Power to get them out - and she was dangerously near her
threshold.  Come on Maeve, she thought – it’s not like you’ve
never pushed too far before.  It’s that or kill Eric right here, right now.
She looked over at the moaning young man, and knew she couldn’t murder
him.  He was willing to help her, for no reason at all, even when he had
evidence she had killed in the recent past.  She couldn’t betray that
trust - he reminded her of her brother Nile too much.

She hugged Eric, and whispered fiercely in his ear.  “Eric, I’m going to
do something - something to make them let us out, okay - but it may hurt me or
make me pass out.  If I do this, promise me you’ll bring me with you, past
the police and somewhere safe.  Do you think you can do that?”

Eric stopped dead, taking in Maeve’s scent at the same time as hearing her
plan.  “I have no idea what you mean, but I think I can get you past the
police - but you’ve got to lose the sword, or they’ll shoot us for sure!”
He was confused, but her confidence in him set his mind working on a plan to
get past the police.  If she was so sure she could get them past the
security check, he would be damned if he didn’t do his best for her.

Maeve released Eric, and gathered her energy, switching by habit into her
battle-trance.  Once again, she reached out with the power, and plunged
into the mind of the stern woman called Linda Niven who wanted them held.
Maeve swam through her thoughts, using brute force where necessary, and
realized that Linda halfway wanted them gone, and was only holding them to hold
onto her own composure.  With the last of her strength, she gave that
tendency to let them go a little push - and suddenly it was over, and she fell
to her knees gasping.   She had come close that time - too
close.  Before Maeve knew what was going on, she was being bundled up by
Eric and pulled into the hot summer night.

Eric saw Maeve stare at Linda, muttering in some other tongue - and then Linda,
for no apparent reason, pushed the button that released the door lock.
Not knowing why, he mouthed “Thank you.” to her, and grabbed Maeve, who had
fallen to the floor, and pulled her into the evening, kicking her sword away
and leaving it behind.  Police were everywhere on the grounds, and what
looked to be a dozen dark-clothed men in Kevlar armor - a SWAT team, perhaps,
were approaching the Clinic.  One of the men called out “Halt!”, and aimed
his gun at them both.

Eric called out “We’re patients – Don’t shoot!  The killer’s still inside
- check with Linda, the Head Nurse!”  He waited for a moment as the men
trained their guns on both him and the semi-conscious Maeve, praying for a
miracle.

*
*          *

Marcus Drake drove his car up the 404, more annoyed with himself than he had
any right to be.  I know I’m running late - stupid rush hour slowed me
down.  It’s completely understandable, he thought.  I just
hate being late to appointments.   He had called the Clinic
earlier to make an appointment to talk to Eric van Helstrome - but he was out
at a hospital with family.  His appointment was for 5:45pm and since it
was already 6:15pm, he wasn’t going to make it on time.   I hope I
can still see Eric, even if I’m a few minutes late.  Some of these people
can be officious and I’m not really looking forward to dealing with their
horseshit if they offer me any.   He felt overworked, overheated,
and tired.

As he turned off the 404, and onto Herald road he couldn’t help but see police
cruisers and ambulances and other emergency vehicles pass him by, lights
flashing and sirens screaming.   What the hell is going on?
He thought, and sped up.   As he approached the clinic, the road
ahead was completely blocked by emergency vehicles with their lights
on...  Pulling over, Marcus looked down at the file next to him, of Eric,
with his picture paper-clipped to the front.  Young - maybe 20, male - a
bit pudgy.  Strong build.   Is he involved?
Marcus wondered.  Probably.

The Detective Inspector got out of his car, and walked towards the confusion
ahead of him - there was a single path on the road for an emergency vehicle to
get by - and it wasn’t long before a very shaken looking cop came running out
towards him - probably to tell him to get out of here.   Marcus held
up his badge - and the running cop calmed, and motioned him to come closer.

“What the hell is going on here?”  Marcus asked.

The cop - Keith his uniform said - shook his head.  “I don’t know!
All hell’s breaking loose up there.  The crazies have taken over the
asylum – there’s bodies everywhere!”

“Holy shit!”  Marcus cranned his neck to get a better view...  He
could see shadows on the ground - probably the bodies Keith mentioned - and
even from here he could hear some of the screams of the madhouse.   What
a mess.   I wonder if he’s in there or not?

*
*          *

Lennox looked at Nurse Niven like she was crazy.  “Linda - did you just
let them out?  You were just talking about keeping them both here until
the police arrived?  Have you totally lost it?”

Linda just blinked, and said “What?  I don’t remember...”

Whatever she was about to say after that was cut off by a loud roar, and a
tearing sound of metal, as the elevator doors were torn open by something
immense - something that couldn’t possibly exist - the Utukku.  It walked
past the two of them, and out into the night - its prey was close - too close
to stop and kill these two frightened mortals.  He could always come back
and kill them later, anyway.   As he left the building, and saw the
night sky above him, he unfurled his shroud-like wings, and took flight,
swooping over the lit grounds, and seeing the humans gape and stare, pointing
their guns at him, as if bullets made by any mortal source could hurt
him!  He enjoyed their fear.  He would enjoy their deaths more.

*
*          *

Eric may have been praying for a miracle, but what he got was a
diversion.  The police saw something behind him, and one staggered, while
the other said “Sweet Mary, Mother of God - what is that thing?”  Their
guns moved from Maeve and himself, to whatever was behind them.  Eric
couldn’t help but turn and look too.  He saw the Demon take flight - saw
it wheel in the air above the police, and saw it swoop in for the kill.
Somehow, he knew he should be afraid - but after the years of voices - of not
knowing if they were real, or if they were real, what they were - actually
finding out was almost a relief, even if he was in mortal danger.  The
voices in his head were still there, but somehow quieter, as if they were
watching with interest, rather than trying to confuse him.

The police opened fire on the creature as it swooped down towards them,
followed by the gunfire of their fellow SWAT members, as well as gunfire from
the other York Regional Police officers and some Ontario Provincial Police
officers that had arrived in support of York Regional Police.   Eric
heard screams of men in pain, men dying horribly in the claws of ... whatever
that thing was.

Eric grabbed Maeve, who seemed to be slowly coming to, and ran as fast as he
could move her, past the SWAT, past the police and the main gate, and onto
Herald road.   Eric saw several un-attended police cars nearby - and
the police had their hands full at the moment, but waffled over whether he
should simply steal one and drive off, until he saw the Demon grab a struggling
SWAT member and rip his head off with a flick of his thumb - for all the world
like a gore covered Pez dispenser - and begin to suck the juices that sprayed
out, all the while ignoring gunfire from the police.

“Nope!”  Eric said.  “We’re outta here!”  Eric had seen enough -
enough to know bullets weren’t going to kill that thing.  He tossed Maeve
into the passenger seat of an O.P.P. cruiser, but before he could close the
passenger door, the rear windshield exploded as the corpse of an O.P.P. officer
smashed through it and landed in a broken, bleeding heap in the back
seat.  Eric yelped in fear, ran to the drivers sear, closed the door and
gunned the engine.  Gravel sprayed from the shoulder of the road and the
cruiser nearly flew down Herald road, as it headed west towards the 404 as fast
as Eric could drive.

*
*          *

Marcus was walking towards the gate to the Nielson Clinic, when he heard the
screams and gunshots.  Rushing forward past some officers towards the
chaos, he had to dodge quickly to one side as an O.P.P cruiser came at him fast
with its lights on.   Stepping to one side, he looked at the driver
by reflex as it went by - and realized the driver was Eric van Helstrome - the
guy from the picture he was coming to see - and that he had a blood-covered
woman in the passenger seat.   “What the hell?”   My
prime suspect is fleeing the scene in a stolen car with a potential hostage!

Marcus turned and ran as fast as he could back to his car, starting it up and
throwing an emergency bubblegum light on the dash by reflex.   In
seconds the car starts, and he tried to wheel it around in a u-turn to pursue
Eric - but the crush of emergency vehicles slowed him down, giving his perp
precious minutes to get a head start.  By the time his car was turned
around, Eric’s stolen police cruiser was out of sight.

As Marcus raced after Eric, his mind was trying to figure out where he was
going in such a hurry.  The file said he lived with his father on the
Bridle Path.  Eric’s damaged goods... He’ll probably run home to daddy’s
money.   By the time his swirling thoughts concluded this, he had
reached the 404, and turned south.

“Dispatch, this is Detective Inspector Marcus Drake, Badge 337.  We need a
cruiser at 818 Bridal Path.  Suspect is driving a stolen O.P.P. cruiser
and has a hostage with him.  He is an escapee from an asylum - presumed
armed and dangerous.”

Dispatch answered - and soon several police cruisers were on their way to
Eric’s address.   I hope he’s there, Marcus thought.  I
don’t have any other ideas as to where he could be going.
Marcus’s car screamed down the 404, sirens and lights flashing.

Several minutes later, he arrived and roared up to Eric’s address on the Bridal
Path.  The place was surrounded by Metro police officers and a half-dozen
cruisers with their lights flashing - including a supervisor’s car.
Marcus got out of the car, and headed over to the patrol sergeant.  “Hey
Bill,” he said.  “What’s going on?”

“House is secure and surrounded, boss - there have been no sounds coming from
inside, and no one visible inside the house.  No sign of the stolen
cruiser either.”  Patrol sergeant William Smitt said.

“House looks empty.”  Marcus added.  “Is SWAT
on the way?”

“Yeah.  They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Marcus sighed.  “Okay – we’ll let them gain entry.”  What a night.

Chapter 7 - Leavetakings

The Utukku, sensing his prey was attempting yet again to flee, stopped playing
with the police, and leapt into the sky.  He left only eleven dead police
behind him.

Eric drove the stolen police cruiser like a madman, his right foot mashed all
the way to the floor on the accelerator pedal.   The cruiser sped
through traffic like a drunken bullet, weaving left and right as it sped down
the 404.  Eric tried to calm himself, even a little, but couldn’t.
Next to him was Maeve - a woman who might be a killer - and behind him was a
creature - a Demon - that most assuredly was a killer.    Where
do I go?  He thought.  I can’t go to Angie’s place - I don’t know
where she’s living now...  Maybe Christine’s?  She’s always been able
to help me before...  Eric decided, and slowed the cruiser a little,
so he could gain control over the vehicle better - travelling too fast was no
good if he lost control and crashed.

In the passenger seat, his unlikely guest Maeve looked on in terror as the road
flashed by her - her face almost simultaneously glued to the window, and the
car’s controls and radio, which occasionally squawked out a police codes
neither of them knew, and calls for help mixed with the screams of the dying,
which they had too recently witnessed.

“How is this possible!?” Maeve screamed, looking wildly at Eric, and the car
hurtling through the night, with them inside it.

“What...?  You’ve never been in a Car before?”  Eric
yelled.   “Never mind - I don’t want to know.”  Eric stopped
talking, and concentrated on the road, edging the speed upwards as his
confidence behind the wheel grew.

Eric glanced back in the rear view mirror for a sign of the creature...  So
far, nothing, he thought.  Good.   He pushed the car
faster, and for the first time he realized that he was going nearly 200
KM/hour!   He shook his head silently in amazement - before his
psychotic break he had got his licence, but never gone above 110
KpH!    Gotta watch the road... Gotta keep from
crashing.  Christine’ll know what to do.  He glanced over at
Maeve... her head tucked into her lap, whimpering over and over again.  He
looked back at the road, slowly feeling his confusion from back at the Neilson
clinic returning.  Dammit!  I gotta keep it together!

First, he thought, I know I’m not crazy.  That demon was real
enough to the cops too.  He wondered for a moment if any of them were
still alive, but rising terror dragged him back on track.  Second - If
the Demon is real, then the Voices are probably real too.  He realized
that he was actually waiting to see if the Voices answered with some
comment.  Normally they would have - but this time, there was a silence -
which at first seemed good, until Eric realized it was more like the calm
before the storm... Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he felt chilled,
even in the humid summer heat, and scared to death.  Third - this woman
- Maeve - is somehow involved - and the demon is after both of us... Why?
Eric looked out the window as his stolen police car screamed past traffic on
either side, and saw a sign that showed he just passed the 407, heading
south.  Jesus!  I’ve already passed the 407 – I’m almost at
Steeles.   I’ve gotta turn off – Christine’s house is really close.
He thought.   His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and he
began to shiver.  It was getting harder to keep his eyes on the road, and
he swerved in and out of his lane.  One of the ever-present
tractor-trailers let loose a honk of its horn in warning, and Eric snapped back
to clarity...  He gritted his teeth and drove on, wondering what Christine
was doing now.

*
*          *

Christine sat on a couch, in the dark of her townhouse on Nipigon Ave, staring
into space and polishing off the last third of a bottle of Bacardi.  It
had originally been mixed with cola - but when the screams of Norm and Dave
grew too loud in her memory, she dispensed with the cola, and continued with
the Bacardi, straight.  Jesus... she thought.  Eric nearly
died, and you saw two harmless men get burned to death, for nothing more than a
couple of  bottles of cheap booze and some cheap laughs.  She
took another shot of Bacardi, and kicked away an empty two-litre bottle of
Diet-Coke, and got up from the couch.

It had been like this since she came home last night – she’d slept erratically
- but the booze had helped - she hadn’t even thought of going in to work
today.    The phone had rung several times, but she hadn’t been
able to force herself to answer it.

Hell - I don’t even know exactly what happened!  She thought.
Eric’s friends get burned to death by punks with gasoline, and he gets
fucking frostbite, for Christ’s sake.  She couldn’t even begin to
imagine how that was possible, except that maybe the doctors at St. Michael’s
were either yanking her chain, were overworked and screwed up, or...
whatever...

Christine pulled herself up from the couch and looked around.  When Aunt Millicent
left her the house five years ago, she thought she’d gotten a big break - prime
house, no mortgage, great location, and close to the subway.  And she
was right - you don’t get any better than that.

Just Thank God I got to Eric before the gang did, or he might’ve been burned
to death too.  I don’t think I could have explained that to Angie.
She began to muse once again about last night, and what might have happened -
and what didn’t happen, when suddenly she felt ill.   The room spun
wildly, and her eyes seemed to be making out colors and lights where there
should be none.  Damn - I guess I’ve passed my limit.
Christine staggered quickly towards the bathroom, trying desperately not to be
ill.    I think I should make a coffee and try to eat
something.

*
*          *

The Demon watched the odd vehicle speed away from him, and chuckled, both at
the terror he inspired in the police behind him, and at the ingenuity of
mortals in mastering whatever tools the Gods had given them, be they magic or
science.  As the black and white metal can pulled away, the Demon took to
the air, and followed at about half its speed. knowing it didn’t have to
worry.  The spell that forced it here, that forced it to obey that Valdan
pig who wore the Black Ring, also allowed him to track his quarry.
He could sense him, almost smell his scent in the air, like a trail left behind
him as he fled.

The Demon was concerned about this quarry - his brothers had mentioned him, and
their prior claim on the human they called ‘Eric’.   He still needed
Eric, and he would get him, of course - but the Valdan pig would pay for the
cost of any favors he would have to grant his kin, and pay in blood.  He
was not one to suffer the bonds of summoning magic and its constraints any
longer than he must, as was common for his kind.  With a flap of its great
wings, the Demon lifted itself up into the night sky, and followed behind and
above the metal can that Eric and the Askelinian called Maeve, thought they
could escape in.  Eventually they would have to slow, and stop - and then
he would have them.  Then, before he could begin his hunt for Eric and
Maeve, he felt it... the pull of his commands  “... I want you to kill
everyone near him, so no one can tell how he disappeared."

The Demon almost shrugged.  That works too.  It
thought.   It turned from its pursuit of Eric and Maeve, and changed
course returning to the sanatorium where he had found them.  The police
and staff, if any were stupid enough to remain, were about to have a very, very
bad evening.

*
*          *

Eric looked in his rear-view mirrors again, and breathed a sigh of
relief.  The demon seemed to be gone, at least for now.  Eric didn’t
know if that was good or bad, but he’d take it all the same.  His voices
were just starting to whisper to him again, and this time his meds were little
use - still, he could ignore them for a little while.  No surprise
after the day I’ve had, he thought.  I’m lucky I’m not comatose...
why aren’t I comatose?  He looked over at Maeve, then back to the
road.  Maeve was no longer whimpering in fear, and occasionally snuck a
peek over the dashboard at the road.  Eric didn’t know what to think about
her, but still mused a bit as he drove, slowing the car to more closely match
the speed of local traffic   Maybe she never has been in a car
before?  I mean, I don’t know how it’s possible, but maybe she’s a
Mennonite or something?

“Maeve.” called Eric.  “Why is that thing - the Demon - after me?”
Although Eric was for the moment, calm enough, his voice betrayed his fear and
his rising panic.

“I don’t fully know.”  Maeve said, tearing her gaze from the cars and the
highway zipping past them, to turn her attention to Eric.  “It was
summoned to find you, and bring you through the Void, to an evil
Sorcerer.  He said you were something he called an Anchor or a Bridge -
although I don’t think he meant it in the usual sense.”  Why not use
the truth?  She thought.  It sounds crazy anyway!

“What the Hell are you talking about?  The Void?  Anchors?
Bridges?  You’re crazier than I am!”  Eric replied, angry and
terrified, because as mad and insane as Maeve’s reply had seemed on the surface,
he somehow felt she was telling the truth - even if he didn’t understand
exactly what that truth meant.

“I’m not crazy, Eric - but if we don’t find some way to hide you, that thing
will find us - and when it does it will kill me, and take you to its master to suffer
gods know what kind of fate.  I can’t allow that to happen, Eric.”
Maeve looked grim, and settled herself in the strange cushioned seat of the
vehicle.  Eric was silent for a moment - probably in shock - so she
reached out with her mage-sight to try and sense if the Demon was near.
Thankfully it was not.

Eric had for a moment, a television flashback of time-travellers going back
into the past to protect their ancestors from being killed, daydreaming of
heroes come to save him from an unpleasant future, and then shook himself back
to reality.  This wasn’t a TV show, and it wasn’t going to have a happy
ending unless he made one.    He looked back at the highway, and
quickly changed lanes, lights still flashing and sirens still blaring.
Normally the interchange at the 404 and Steeles was busy at any hour, even in
the dead of night - but like most ‘Torontonians’, the other motorists did their
best to get out of the way of a speeding police cruiser.

Eric turned right, heading west on Steeles, still speeding.  He weaved in
and out of traffic, both by design and from the toll extreme stress was taking
on him, and saw main streets flash by - first Don Mills Road, then Leslie
St.

Maeve, who had until now been watching the odd city-scape unfold before her
eyes, with its strange, glittering towers and brightly lit shops that seemed to
do busy trade, began to notice Eric was muttering to himself, and seemed close
to losing whatever semblance of calm and sanity her spell had been able to give
him.  Dammit, She thought.  He’s deteriorating.  My
spell must have been weaker than I thought.   We need to find shelter
so I can decide what to do next.

“Where are we going, Eric.  This... vehicle goes fast, but unless you have
a plan, it won’t do any good except to buy us some time.”  Maeve didn’t
know if Eric even had a plan, beyond running - but even she had to admit this
strange vehicle could put a lot of miles between them and their pursuer very
quickly!

“We’re... we’re going to a friend’s house.  Her name is Christine – she’s
a friend of my sister, and she helps people like me get help.  I don’t
know if she can help us - but I just don’t know anywhere else to go.”
Eric looked at Maeve, and shook with a tremor that threatened to send the car
off the road.

Eric knew he was going down fast - and when he lost his concentration, when he
crashed, he was going to be out of it for a while - but he was almost there...
they were almost there.  He looked out the window, and his vision blurred
with spots, and coloured hallucinations...  He gritted his teeth and tried
to see through the madness, and saw he was at Steeles and Yonge...  Almost
there - Christine will know what to do - she always has before.  Eric
knew that this was way, way out of Christine’s league - but was past
caring.  He was fleeing, and going to the only person who he thought could
help him, like she had so many times before.  He turned the Police Cruiser
off Yonge, and onto Nipigon, and turned off the lights and siren, and pulled up
outside Christine’s house.  People – Christine’s neighbors - were walking
about; it was still early on a warm summer night - and gave Maeve and Eric odd
looks as they crawled out of the police cruiser and headed up to Christine’s
door.

As they approached, Maeve nearly stared in shock - all the houses on this
street were mansions!   Christine’s home was two stories with a
lovely yard, stone and wrought iron fence, and beautiful windows on each
room.  They were even of clear glass!  Eric’s friend must be a
wealthy noble-lady!   Maybe we can get some real help now?
Maeve hoped they would, at least.

*
*          *

Christine was dragging herself out of the washroom, cursing herself and the
Bacardi when she heard heavy knocking on her door.   Dammit!
I can’t get to sleep as it is, and now this?   Christine
staggered over to the window, and looked outside.  An Ontario Provincial
Police cruiser was parked outside her house.  What now? she
thought.

When she opened the door to find Eric and a strange woman standing there, she
was momentarily taken aback.  “Eric! Are you all right?  What are you
doing here?  And who is this?”  Christine asked, worried both for the
unknown woman as well as for Eric.  I don’t know what you’ve done now
Eric, but I can’t save you from this!  Stealing a police car?
Her thoughts came in a flurry as the shadows of the booze were blown out of her
mind as she went into automatic.   I’ve got to get them inside and
get them warm - shock will be setting in.  Then some water, and bandages,
and make sure no one is bleeding.  Then call for the police and an
ambulance.

“I’m alright.”  Eric said.  “This is Maeve.  Can we come
in?”   The two of them pushed their way in past Christine, who closed
the door behind her.

What the hell?  Christine thought.  She followed them into the
living room to see Eric collapse onto a chair or a couch, looking mentally and
physically exhausted.   Maeve stood around looking around in
awe.  Christine watched her gawk for a moment, and looked at Eric in his
dishevelled state.   “What are you doing here?  Why did you leave
the clinic?”

“There was screaming - blood.  A demon showed up and people died.
Mike got hurt and the lady at the desk was covered in blood.”  Eric was
mumbling, getting the sequence of events confused - his answers weren’t really
coming out coherently.  Maeve broke in to try and help out.

“A demon came, and started killing people, Christine.
It wants to capture Eric.  We escaped and came here in his black and white
carriage.”  Maeve tried to be succinct, and to the point.

“Who the hell are you, lady?”  Christine demanded.  Demons!
As if!

Maeve stood up in her face, and looked rather stern - and a little scary.
“I am an investigator and sorcerer for the Church of Valris, investigating
heresy at an asylum on our northern marches.   I interrupted a spell
by a traitor, where he was summoning a demon to find Eric - and it brought me
through the Void to your world to try and find him.   I need to keep
Eric safe from the demon, or we’re all doomed.”

Christine couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  “You’re crazier than he
is!”

“Look, Christine.  Turn on your TV - it should be on the news, for Pete’s
sake.”

Christine threw on the TV and saw ‘Live Action news’ - with scenes of the
Neilson clinic on fire, police everywhere, and officials running around.
Ambulances were everywhere and people were screaming about terrorists and dead
people, wounded people and monsters.  It was pure bedlam.   A
report came on screen and began to speak.  “We don’t know what happened at
the Neilson Clinic yet, but police confirm that several officers and civilians
have been killed and wounded.  We don’t know the details yet - but it’s a
real mess here.  We’ll keep on top of it.”

Holy crap, Christine thought, and muted the TV.   Something
really bad must have gone down at the clinic - and although I don’t buy demons
or monsters for a second, it’s obvious something happened.   Maeve
must have helped Eric get out alive.   Christine was fully sober
now - the shock of the news and the unexpected arrival had shaken her out of
her inebriation.  Her stress level was back in the stratosphere too.

“Where did you find the O.P.P. cruiser, Eric?”

“It was just sitting on the road with its engine running... and well, we needed
the ride.”  Eric said.  “It drives really well!”

Great - a stolen police car.   She
thought.  “What about this Void Maeve was talking about?”

Maeve stammered a moment.  “I’ve never seen it before tonight - but I’ve
known of it since I was a little girl.  The Void is a great darkness in
which all the Worlds of Creation rest.  It is also very empty and cold,
lit only by a silver light - as if stars shone in an otherwise dark
night.  When we use Magic, we channel the Void energies through our Words,
so we don’t destroy ourselves with its power.  Demons and his kindred
travel the Void and plague the Worlds, fighting the Great Creator at every
step.”

Eric nodded numbly...  Was he in the Void, earlier?  He had never
told anyone of what happened.  He barely admitted it to himself!
Ignoring the philosophical issues for the moment, he continued.  “So this
thing found its way here, from some other world?”

“Basically, yes!”

“Well, how the hell did this Sorcerer even know I existed?”  Eric
asked.  “I mean, I never met him.  I didn’t believe in magic until a
few minutes ago.  I thought the demons I heard in my head were my insanity
- not the truth!”

“I don’t know, Eric.  I think he used a girl - a Dreamer - I can’t explain
what that is right now - to find you - like you and she share some sort of
link.  It has to be something like that or otherwise the Demon would never
have found you through the Void.”   Maeve continued with growing
excitement.  “That must be it - he wants you, because you share a link
with the Dreamer - and if he can get you he can use this link you have with
this Dreamer to find this World for himself...”   Maeve let that
thought digest for a moment, and then realized with a sick feeling that for the
Priest Vargas to go to this much trouble, he must believe the secret of finding
Hrask’s Mate, the Lost Tiamat resided either in Eric or somewhere on his world.

“That’s bad, right?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, I’d say so Eric.  For both of us.”  Maeve said.

Eric didn’t know what to think - it was crazy, it was impossible - but that
coupled with his own experiences with the cold, dark place lit by a dim silver
glow and the horrific experience of tonight’s bloody massacre, it had its own
twisted logic.  It made sense of the senseless, as mad as that seemed.

“Lady,” Christine said.  “You’re nucking
futs!”   Maeve must be crazy, she thought - but something
had to have happened.  Could they be responsible for what happened at the
clinic - were they really in danger at all?   Maeve sounds like
another inmate - and the fact that they drove down here means the police will
be pissed he took the car.   That’s no big deal - no judge would
prosecute him for a borrowed cop car given the circumstances.  He’d get a
slap on the wrist at worst, she thought.

“Excuse me, Christine.   Do you have something to drink - an ale or
some mead?”  Maeve asked.

Christ - more ren-faire speak.  “There’s a couple of bottles in the
fridge.”

Maeve looked at her in incomprehension.  “What is a fridge?”

Seriously?  “Its... oh fuck it, I’ll get them.”  Christine
went to her kitchen and grabbed a couple of ice-cold beers from the fridge -
one for Maeve, one for her.  She twisted off the caps, and handed one to
Maeve, taking a long drink from hers in the process.

*
*          *

The Demon rose from the carnage it had wrought outside the Neilson
Clinic.  When it had returned to the scene of its arrival, the policemen,
thinking the danger had passed, had tried to contain the scene and determine
what had happened.  Before they could learn much, the Demon had returned,
and now they were all dead.  Gore and viscera dripped from its maw and its
hands, and the ground was literally littered with dead policemen - or what
remained of the policemen, as well as a few asylum inmates.  Inside the
asylum, only one man was alive.  The Demon knew two humans had escaped him
- the stern faced woman and the black-skinned guard in the vestibule it had
ignored as it chased Eric.   Still, it felt the constraints of its
summoning loosen - the two were unimportant - and they had not seen its
arrival.  Besides, who would believe them anyway?

Now to find its true prey!  The Demon cast about, sniffing the air as if
it could smell the scent of Eric on the wind.  In truth, all it could
smell was the awful carnage, redolent of blood and violence and death, but it
also could sense its prey - the feel of it - from the south and west.

Nodding to itself, it gathered its wings, and gave them a great shake, as if
shaking the dust off a blanket - though in this case the dust was bits of human
flesh and a fine spray of blood.  It paused once more, to get a bearing on
its prey, and leapt into the evening sky, following some invisible trail with
unholy glee.  It knew the vehicle had taken his prey many miles away, but
sometimes stalking the prey was as fulfilling as the killing of it.  And
it had not forgotten about Maeve Varda, either.   Soon, she would be
dead - and the young man, he would return with him to the not so tender mercies
of His Grace, the Bishop.

The Demon almost chuckled at the pompous arrogance of humans and their titles
and ranks - they meant nothing to him.  Only the Black Ring meant
something - Power, to imprison or punish - and that was why it
served.   If only the Priest had failed in one part of the calling -
just one, and he would have been his!  It was the nature of Diablerie, the
Demon knew - a failed summons was tantamount to the Demon called being given
free reign on the summoner’s world, which was why Diablerie was punishable by
death wherever it was known.

The vehicles and buildings below the Demon passed by, as the creature soared
amongst the clouds and evening sky.  It was closing in, but not
quickly.  Either way, it expected to be finished its task in the next half-hour.
It knew Maeve and Eric couldn’t find anywhere to hide longer than that - and it
knew Maeve had nothing with which to harm him.  It relished the thought of
slowly draining her life as she screamed in his grip, and flew onward, eager
and unstoppable.

*
*          *

After they shared a swig of beer, Maeve looked around at the inside of
Christine’s marvellous home.  It was a beautiful house - the floors were
of fine slate tile and the walls oak panelled.  The light fixtures were
brass and glass, glowing with an unseen magic, and there were several fine
mirrors about - all of incredible quality.  The furniture was excellent,
and everything reeked of money.  This home is huge, if it’s for just
one woman - she must be wealthy - perhaps even a noble, Maeve
thought.  Better to be safe than sorry.

“Eric said you were a friend - but he failed to mention you were a
noble-woman, milady.”  Maeve nodded in Christine’s direction, and gave a
small curtsy - but realized she had made an error, from Christine’s features.

“Noble-woman?  What the...”   She must be nuts.
Christine thought.  Things seemed to both women to be falling rapidly out
of control.

“I don’t understand either, Christine.”  Eric said.  It was obvious
he was fading - that most of his strength had been taken in getting here.
“But she saved my life.  Please - cut her some slack.”

“So what the hell happened at the clinic?”  Christine asked.  “Try
and explain, please.  We’ve probably got about 10 minutes before the Cops
arrive and drag you both off to jail.  I want to know what’s
happened.”  Now that the immediate emergency had passed, Christine
obviously was getting angry.   Maeve couldn’t blame her, but debated
whether to tell her the truth or not.

“Are Cops another word for Police?” Maeve asked, almost
to herself.  “I’ll be blunt.  A  sorcerer looking for a dead
Goddess summoned a demon to find Eric and bring Eric back to him, for what
reason I can only guess at.  I assume however, that this sorcerer believes
that Eric knows where the dead Goddess can be found.   The sorcerer
gave the Demon me as food for its trip to your world, and I escaped it long
enough to assist Eric in escaping too.  He stole that vehicle, and brought
us here.”

Christine looked at Maeve in stupefaction.

Maeve looked at Christine.  “Have I not made myself clear?”  Maeve
honestly couldn’t understand what was so difficult to comprehend.  She had
even used small words.

“You’re mad!  Magic doesn’t exist - and neither do Demons... not as flesh
and blood, and maybe not even as spirits!  A spell brought you from
another world?  You’re fucking nuts!”  Christine was obviously scared
of Maeve at this point, and reached inside her pouch for something.
In less time that it took to blink, Maeve was on Christine, grappling her
wrist, and pulling her hand out of the pouch.

“I don’t care if you think I’m mad.  I don’t care if you think I’m a
murderer!  But if you don’t calm down and listen to me, You, Eric and I
will be dead in less than an hour - as well as any police or Cops or whatever
you call them that come here!”

Christine struggled for a moment more, but then stopped - something in the
timbre of Maeve’s voice seemed convinced and terrified at the same time - but also
full of conviction.  Even if she was mad, she surely believed what she was
saying - and that might mean she was capable of anything - even murder.

They must be creating this demon to insulate themselves from the trauma of what
happened at the clinic.   Talk her down like you would any other
patient, Christine.  “Okay, Maeve, I’m calm.”  She said, sitting
down.  “I’m not a noble-lady, I’m a social worker.  Sit down and
relax.  We are all safe here.”

“No we’re not.”  Maeve said.  “The demon is coming for Eric.”

Defuse the situation.  Christine thought, But don’t buy into the
delusion.   “And how would he find us here?  Our cities are
very large and confusing - and you didn’t say where you were
going.”   Even as she said it, she did feel a little twig of
fear.  Something happened at the clinic - could Eric and Maeve somehow
lured it to her home?  “You’ve come a long way.”

“The demon could track Eric across all of creation in pursuit of his
goal.  Across any distance or gulf of time and space.  The spells
that summon it, allow it to do so.”  Maeve said, starting to get
exasperated with this Christine.

“Well, whether you believe me or not, it’s coming - and when it gets here, it will
do here, what it did there.”  Maeve said, pointing at the TV.  “I
need a weapon.”

Christine just said “I don’t have any weapons.”

“What about a silver blade - a divine relic, a holy symbol - anything?”
Maeve demanded.

“I don’t have any of those.”  She’s a whack job.  A total whack
job.

“Christine, stop being an idiot.  It’s real - the demon, the void -
they’re real.”  Eric interjected.  He too seemed tired of Christine’s
disbelief.

“Of course it is, Eric.”

“Stop trying to fucking console me and LISTEN to me, dammit!”  Eric
yelled.  “The demon is real - and its coming.  The void is real - I
saw it!  That’s where I went when Norm and Dave got killed – it’s where I
got the frostbite on my hands!”

“I ran out into the gang and knifed a few - and they started kicking me.
I felt something in my chest get kicked and it hurt - a LOT.  I knew that
unless I did something, I was gonna die - so I willed myself somewhere else...
and I went.  It was silvery, and dark, and cold - and the things that
cause my voices were there - but for real, not in my head.”  Eric barely
heard Maeve’s shocked intake of breath as he continued.  “I was scared -
scared so bad I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared in my life as I was then -
and I knew I had to get back here...  So once I figured out how I got to
where I went, it wasn’t that hard to get back to here... Only when I got back,
Norm and Dave were on fire, and you were screaming, looking for wherever I
went.  That’s where I went, and that’s where I got frostbite.”

Maeve looked at Eric incredulously.  Gods above... He’s mageborn!
And Christine is really pissing me off.  We’re wasting too much time, she
thought.  Christine better start believing us - it would be a shame to
have to kill her.  So much was happening so quickly, she didn’t know where
to begin.  Start with staying alive, Maeve thought.

I should take them to North York General - its not too far.  The hospital
could keep them safe until we find out what’s going on.  They can stay
there till we find another clinic, and contact the next of kin to make the
necessary arrangements.   Christine thought.  “I think you’re
right - we should leave and go somewhere safer.  C’mon - we’ll take my car
this time.”

Finally!  Maeve thought.  The stupid cow is listening to
us.  Thank the gods.  Eric would have been pretty mad I think, if I’d
killed her.  Maybe they’ll have some demon killing stuff where ever we’re
going?  Maeve drained the last of her beer, and they all packed up and
headed out onto the front lawn.

*
*          *

Christine headed to the garage door, and opened it to reveal her three-year old
red Prius - and realized Eric had run off.  She and Maeve stopped, and
Christine said  “Hey doofus!  What are you doing?”

“Just grabbing something that might help.”  Eric said - and emerged from
the police cruiser, holding a deadly looking 9mm pistol with several magazines
of ammunition, and a pump action 10 gauge shotgun.  His head was bothering
him again... the voices were back - strong.   He stuffed the
magazines into his jacket pockets and put the gun in another pocket, and
carried the shotgun over to Christine.

Christine saw the gun and her blood ran cold.  “What are you doing,
Eric?  Put the gun down!”  Christine’s neighbors, some of whom like
her neighbor Tom Simpson, or Mr. and Mrs. Andrews from two houses down, had
come to rubberneck - and seemed to be slowly realizing something was wrong.

Maeve listened - and heard the telltale flapping of large wings.  “We’re
out of time.  It’s not coming.  It’s already here.  We HAVE to
go!”

Time to Die, Eric...  You’re finally ours!   How much fun
we’ll have.  You know what kind of fun we mean, don’t you Eric?
The voices whispered sibilantly in his mind.  Eric groaned, trying to
force them out - he knew what kind of ‘fun’ they meant.  Their fun was the
kind of torture that made X-Rated horror movies look like the Care-Bears
Cartoons.   He looked at Christine, and tried to pierce the cloud of
confusion.  It was hard, but he had had some practice.   He saw
a shadow pass above him, and knew time had run out.

Christine saw the thing swoop down from the evening sky... Huge, dark - and
covered in gore.  It was impossible.  It couldn’t exist - and it was
here.  She screamed and pointed, utterly paralyzed until Maeve screamed
“Take cover” and dragged her down to the ground.

*
*          *

It was close.  The stink of the Askelinian and the scent of its prey was
strong. They were among the houses below.  From the look of them, their
owners were probably fairly well off.  As it swooped down from the evening
sky, it also saw that many of them had foolishly come to gawk at the vehicle
Maeve and Eric had made their escape from the asylum in.   He sensed
more than saw the two of them hiding behind the vehicle’s structure, along with
another woman.

Nearby were at least a half-dozen people, both young and old watching the odd
scene play out...  It wanted to kill - to feast on them all - but it could
not...  Some would surely get away or rouse too much attention that it
would never succeed to the letter of his commands.  This required something
to distract the humans from him while he completed his task - something subtle.

*
*          *

Tom Simpson’s first sign of something wrong was Eric pulling a gun out of the police
cruiser - it was obvious by Christine’s warning the kid shouldn’t have it - and
then something swooped down and took him.  He was lifted into the sky by
something incredibly strong - and then he felt pain, and then nothing at all.

Maeve tried to enter her nairya, and Eric readied the shotgun, while Christine
silently gibbered... something ... took him!.  Second later, Tom’s
mutilated body dropped directly on top of the police cruiser’s roof, falling
from the sky.  Tom hit with a bone-crunching thud, blood spraying from
numerous wounds - he was certainly dead, crumpling the metal roof of the car
and shattering the blue and red police lights.  Christine was only
partially aware her neighbour had fallen bleeding and ruined from the sky - the
rest of her was trying to comprehend that her neighbours were screaming and
running for their lives, and she was screaming and thinking maybe now she was
crazy too, when whatever mauled Tom dropped from the sky on top of his body,
and began feasting.

Any neighbours and bystanders in the area ran in fear.  Nothing would stay
and face that horror unless they had no choice.  Eric, Maeve, and now
Christine had no choice.

Eric fired three shots from the shotgun at the Demon, like his dad had taught him
at the firing range.  Inside, he knew it was useless, but he wasn’t going
down without at least trying to fight.  The Demon took the buckshot, and
turned, swallowing the pieces of Tom Simpson in the process.  It looked
straight into his soul, somehow - he knew it did - and it saw everything he
ever feared.  Eric paled as he heard its voice in his mind, even as he
felt something locked away deep inside slowly un-knot and loosen.

Hello Eric...  I’m not your usual minder - but I’ve come a long way
for you... and I intend to take you with me.   It looked into
Eric’s thoughts.  You cannot escape us, Eric - we are everywhere,
and nowhere.  We see everything you wish to hide - everything that shames
you, demeans you, and degrades you.  We know you better than you know
yourself.

Eric knew he should be catatonic with fear - and indeed he was afraid - but
even as the Demon threatened him, and he felt the Voices crowding around him,
threatening to overwhelm his already crumbling defences, something snapped
inside of him - and for the first time in his life, he Saw.

It was unlike anything he ever experienced - like seeing in three dimensions
after spending your whole life seeing in only two, like a blurred lens had been
removed from his eyes. Everything around him glowed with light of varying
colors, all dim, and all somehow full of possibility.  The Demon and all
its dark magic stood out from the chorus of light that made up Eric’s reality
like a dark stain - a black hole in the starry void of space.  An absence
of everything, of anything.  He could even sense a thread of...
something... leading from himself off into ... somewhere.  He didn’t know
how to explain it - how do you explain sound to a deaf man, or colour to the
blind?  He stood there, staring into the face of the Demon, enraptured.

Maeve tried to fire a blast of magic at the creature - to no effect.  The
summoned mind bolt has a little effect on the creature as a drop of rain.
Useless!  Maeve thought.  I’d have been better off trying
to spit on it!

The demon sneered at her attempt to harm it, and struck out, grabbing Maeve’s
neck in one taloned hand, while smashing Christine in the face with its
leathery wing.  Christine felt like someone just hit her with a baseball
bat, and screamed, dropping to the ground, stunned.  Maeve choked as the
Demon’s hand closed off her throat, and she began to suffocate.  She
writhed, trying to escape the creatures grasp and get a breath of air.  It
just gripped all the tighter.

Maeve knew unless she could figure something - anything - out in seconds, she
was as good as dead...  She tried to re-enter the Nairya, but the calmness
of the Battle-Trance eluded her.  There might be one way... she
thought.  I’m as good as dead anyway.   She reached for the
Power, channelling everything she could draw through her own body, without
using Words to focus it, and sent everything she had towards the Demon...
She felt the deadly Void energy burn her body and mind, and she screamed as the
pure power coursed through her with wild abandon.  It was incredible pain,
mixed with the pure joy of wielding the power of Creation.

The Demon saw too late what Maeve was doing, and tried to release her - but she
was too fast, and she and the Demon screamed as one, as the bolt of energy
coursed from Maeve to the Demon.   Its scream shocked Eric out of his
reverie, and he saw it writhing in fire - fire he could only see with his new
senses.  He got the impression to anyone else it would look like a bright
flash of light, if that.

Maeve dropped to the pavement, barely conscious and bleeding badly from the
nose and ears, while the Demon staggered back, actually injured. Eric watched
the stuff the Demon was made of boil away from its surface, like vaporized ice,
and his strange enhanced vision faded with the afterimage of the blast of
light.  Eric knew if - when - it recovered from its wound, it would kill
Maeve and Christine - and then take him to God knows where.  He threw
himself in front of Maeve and Christine, knowing it wanted him alive - it might
keep it from killing the others for at least a moment longer.

There was only one way to beat it...  Eric had read all the fables, myths
and legends of Demons, Fairies, Dragons and other ‘mythical’ creatures.
He knew of the supposed power of True Names, and the supposed rules imposed on
spirits - like a Genie granting three wishes.  He knew none of the stories
were going to have a solution - but maybe a kernel of truth existed?  The
Demon was sent here to get me, and bring me back - but if I’m not here, it
can’t fulfill its task... and if it can’t fulfill its task, it just MIGHT be
set free.  If that’s correct then maybe...

Eric, not even knowing if it were possible, tried to do again what he did when
he was attacked by the street gang...  It was hard - harder than before,
especially since he was trying to take Maeve and Christine with him...  He
felt pain, and then the warm salty taste of blood in his mouth - and then the familiar
stomach-wrenching sensation, followed by intense cold that told him he had
succeeded.  He, Maeve, and Christine were in the silvery blackness of the
Void.

Had anyone been left to watch what just happened, they would have seen the Demon
reach out to grab Eric, or perhaps kill the two women - when suddenly, Eric,
Maeve and Christine vanished, as if they had never been.  The Demon
stopped, nonplussed.  Then, as it realized the commands that had shackled
it were now gone, it stretched its wings and shrugged.  It added the
Bishop Vargas Elm to the list of persons it ‘owed’ some revenge, and returned
to the Void.  If Eric or the others had remained, it would have killed
them - but as it was, it had already feasted, and feasted well.  Now it
would be It’s brethren’s turn to hunt...  The demon grinned, and
disappeared.

*
*          *

Detective Inspector Drake was walking out of Eric’s home, having found nothing
- when the patrol sergeant on the scene yelled “Hey, Inspector!  All
hell’s breaking loos just north of us, up on Steeles and Yonge.”

Marcus nodded.  “Like what?  What’s happening?”

“Dunno - might be a riot.  Shots fired, several people down, multiple
casualties.  Dispatch was pretty confused about it - they’re getting a ton
of 911 calls.”

Maybe it’s them?   Sounds like their trouble followed them.
“Let’s get up there. Leave one car here in case they come back - the rest of
you, come with me!”  Marcus ran to his car, and raced towards Steeles and
Yonge.  He called dispatch, giving them an ETA of about 5 minutes, and
drove like a bat out of hell with three other cruisers.  Full lights,
Sirens - the whole package.  Traffic melted away from them as they raced
towards the scene of new carnage.  Dispatch radioed in, telling of
multiple 911 calls, shots fired, and at least one person dead.  The
chatter was very confusing and conflicted with itself at times.  The
scene must be a real mess, he thought.

He drove up Bayview to Finch, and turned west on Finch to Yonge, and then to
Nipigon.  “Sergeant,” he called on the radio.  “Get a car up Steeles
and go west to Lillian street and come up behind the house - block off the
cross street and contain the scene.   The rest of us will head right
to the house.”

They arrived on the scene to see a local
patrol car; they could hear the fire and ambulance sirens on the way.
People were screaming, throwing up, and writhing on the ground - it looked like
one woman was having a heart attack, and another had fallen down in a panic and
possibly broken her ankle.   Everyone had cuts, bruises and scrapes -
and the amount of blood on the scene was inconceivable.  It was total
chaos.   The first two cops on the scene - the ones in the patrol car
- were trying to keep their lunch down and failing.   Marcus got out
of his car and took control.

“You two - what’s going on?”  He demanded.

“Oh, thank god you’re here sir!”  One of the two men said.  “It’s a
frigging bloodbath.”

“Alright, dammit.”  He said.  “You - find out who’s injured and who
needs help.  You, prepare the streets for the emergency vehicles.”
He turned to some of the cops that came with him.  “You guys start taking
statements from anyone who saw anything - and make sure you get their names and
addresses.   Sergeant - can you deal with this?”

“Sure thing, Inspector.”  The sergeant said, taking control of the dozen
police constables on the scene.  He started directing them so that Marcus
could deal with other things.  It wouldn’t be long before half the police
force was here anyway.

Marcus went straight to the O.P.P. cruiser, and the first thing he saw was the
partial body of a man on the roof...  Gross.  He
thought.  I wonder where the rest of him is?   He took down
the car number - it was on the trunk - and called out to a constable.
“Hey - you!  Contact O.P.P. at Downsview and find out whose car this is,
and why it’s here!”

The constable nodded assent, and Marcus went back to work.  He walked
carefully around the car, avoiding the pooled blood and bits of meat, being
careful to not touch anything.  A Shotgun is missing.  He
noted.  Not good.

By now the first of the ambulances arrived on the scene, as was the Fire
department.   Marcus just looked at the chaos of the scene, and
muttered to himself.  “My, my, my. What the fuck happened here?  Did
you do all this Eric?  Somehow I don’t think so.”

The constable Marcus sent to find out, called back.  “Hey boss!  That
car was detailed up at Newmarket - it went missing from the scene of the mess
going on up there.”

“Thanks!”  Marcus called.   So this is definitely the car I
chased.  Where are you Eric - and why did you come here?

Chapter 8 - Mercia

Christine shivered numbly in fear, barely conscious as Maeve began to glow -
and then spray light at the impossible creature Maeve and Eric claimed was a
Demon.  She could hear its screams, even now.   Then when it was
about to strike, she saw Eric leap forward to try and shield them both - and
then reality snapped - and the World was gone!   She looked about,
but there was nothing to see... not the ‘nothing’ people say when they mean
‘nothing interesting’, but actually ‘Nothing’.  All she could see was herself,
Eric and Maeve, and a dim glow of light that seemed to emanate from everywhere
and nowhere all at once.   This time she shivered more from the cold
than from fear.  It was cold, she realized - colder than any winter storm
she had ever been in.  Eric wasn’t crazy - this was all really
happening.  The Demons were real.

“Eric!”  She screamed, her voice full of new, unknown fears.  “Where
are we?”

Christine’s panicked shout seemed to revive Maeve to a degree, who also looked
utterly terrified.  She said something - it sounded like a question, but
whatever magic that had allowed Eric and Christine to understand her had
faded.  She looked more than a little panicked, and barely conscious.

Eric looked about.  “I don’t know - maybe the Void that Maeve was talking
about...”   He paused as he began to realize just what he had
done.  “Christine!  I... I moved us to a... a different
dimension!  I don’t know how I did it, but I did!”

Christine was way past denial at this point.  “So now what, Eric?  If
we don’t get out of here soon, we’ll freeze to death!”   It was then
she heard the whisper of voices all around her, and realized that freezing to
death would be the least of her worries.   They whispered grief and
anger, shameful secrets and hidden pain.  They whispered hunger, hate,
betrayal and darkness.  She had always believed in good and evil - but as
abstract moral concepts.  She never until today believed she would see and
hear what could only be described as Evil incarnate.

“We have to run!”  She cried.

“Where to?” Eric yelled back, wobbling on his feet.  He felt dizzy, and
weak, and the only warmth he had was the blood in his mouth, from where he had
bitten himself doing whatever he had done to get them here.

Maeve had picked herself up, and tried to stand, but nearly fell down - and
Eric wasn’t doing much better.  He was weaving on his feet, hurt and
exhausted and god knew what else, but he staggered over to Maeve, and tried to
help her stay standing.  It was almost comical, in a way, thought
Christine.  If it weren’t for our injuries, and these whispering, evil
voices getting closer and closer, it would look for all the world like a scene
from a vaudeville act, where the performers can’t stand up without each
other.  Now they just looked like the walking wounded.

*
*          *

It is time, Eric.  The Voices said.  Time for us to feed.  Eric
felt the Voices encroach on his mind again, although like before it was all the
worse, because he heard them with his ears as well as his mind.  Somehow
actually hearing the voices he had suffered with for years with his ears and
not his head made them seem more real, and more dangerous.  Like his
imminent death.   Eric felt his control crumble, as the Voices began
their mantra of lies, guilt, self hate, loathing and fear.  He shook; he
trembled - and he knew it was all for nothing.   The years of running
from his guilt, his pain, himself.  All for nothing.   He knelt,
regardless of the numbing frost that crept up his legs, and readied himself to
die.

*
*          *

Christine had been trying to shut out the voices - the thought that they could
even exist was too terrifying to consider - but she realized they were closing
in on them.  She could see the toll the Voices were having on
Eric...  He was beginning to lose control; his veneer of reason was
beginning to crack, and she knew she had to act.  If Eric passed out, or
couldn’t concentrate enough to get them out of here, and back home... well she
didn’t really want to think about that too hard.

“Eric!”  She screamed.  “Eric!  Snap out of
it!”   Not only didn’t he listen or snap out of it, he fell on his
knees, and looked like he was surrendering.   She ran to him, and
slapped him, shook him - anything to wake him up and show him how selfish he
was being.  Even as she flailed at Eric, she saw things moving in the
darkness, with tiny pinpricks of light, like eyes in a dark cave.  She
felt cold, and hate.  They had come.

Eric was oblivious to her beating, and was rapidly going catatonic...  If
I don’t reach him now, I’ll never get another chance, Christine thought.
She knew only one thing that would get his attention - it was a dirty move, and
she felt bad doing it, but she knew if the things attached to those eyes
glittering in the darkness reached them, she’d feel a whole lot worse.
“Eric!   These are the voices that killed your Mother, and unless you
grow some balls and get us out of here, we’re going to die - just like she
did!”

Eric started from his shock - Christine’s taunt hit him like a verbal slap to
the face, and he came to, if just for a moment.  The creatures that were
his voices were close - closer than they had ever been before - he could almost
see them, their dim shadowy outlines, the cold malice of their hate.
Christine had fallen to her knees, tears rolling down her face.  Maeve was
screaming, and clutching Eric like he was a crutch.  He felt detached from
himself - like an observer in his own body - and then the shadows parted.
He saw the creatures - the Demons, their voices loud in his mind, like a
whirlwind.

He watched them assemble, watch the creatures drink in his fear, until one in
particular stepped forward...  It was a creature out of Nightmares like
the others, and yet to Eric it looked all too familiar - cascading brown hair
over his Mothers twisted, mottled face, her neck broken from where she had hung
herself.  He could feel a rising horror as he somehow knew what was going
to happen - it had happened too many times in his dreams and nightmares.

The creature that was his Mother looked at him, her skin dotted with sores that
were hatching insects, her mouth splitting wide in too many ways to be
human.  And as spiders crawled out of her mouth, ears and the hundreds of
sores on her flesh, he heard her soft voice, a voice he always remembered as
being peaceful, and safe - now safe no longer, echoing with a voice inside his
mind.   Eric...  You’re here at last.  Welcome Home...

Eric screamed... his ultimate horror had come true, and he couldn’t face
it.  He had to flee - and he couldn’t leave Maeve or Christine here to
that... that thing that looked like his mother.   He tried to move
them again, like he did before - and nothing happened.  Why isn’t it
working?   What am I doing wrong?  He screamed to
himself.   He couldn’t tell which way was which - if direction even
had any meaning here...  As the creatures closed in, he cast about for
something - anything - that would give him an indication of where to go... and
then he had it.

Eric’s mother Laura van Helstrome - or what remained of her - reached to
embrace her son.  The others waited till she claimed him - for prior claim
was one of their Rules - then the others would fall on Christine and Maeve like
starving dogs on scraps of meat.   She reached her son, and folded
him into her embrace as he screamed.  Screamed out his madness, his rage,
his sense of betrayal, his fear and self-loathing, and his endless pain.

The Demons closed in to claim their prizes - but as Eric’s scream crested,
reached its crescendo, he reached into the darkness of the Void - not with his
arms, but with magic - and then he and the women were gone.

*
*          *

Maeve saw the Demon’s close in on them, and screamed.  “Goddess and
God!  Save us, your humble servants, in your holy names!”   She
didn’t expect an answer to the prayer - but old habits die hard, and it seemed
better to die praying than to die wailing in fear.   Then, before
they were claimed and consumed, Eric somehow repeated his earlier efforts that
had brought the three of them to the Void.  She could See he was being
Kissed by the Void - the term for the horrible burning she had suffered
earlier.  He was too inexperienced - too uneducated in the ways of the Art
to perform such spells.  Yet he didn’t know that - and really, what choice
did they have at the time?

Reality snapped - or popped, like a soap bubble - and the three of them
appeared in a wooded field outside a small town.  It was winter or early
spring, and very cold - the ground was covered in a thin blanket of snow.
A bitter wind blew from the north-west, driving blowing snow before
it.   Maeve gasped in shock - she was back in Mercia, her World, and
it was still the middle of Wintersend - very late in the winter, or very early
in the spring, depending on whom you asked.   She didn’t know how she
first knew she was home - it was just the taste of the air, the greyish indigo
of the approaching evening.  She had heard that some powerful sorcerers
claimed each World had its own ‘flavor’ - if such was the case, she recognized
the taste of ‘home’.

Maeve scanned the area, barely able to keep her eyes focussed...  She
could see the outlines of houses, and the walls of the town, and smell the
scent of wood smoke in the air.   I recognize this place, She thought.
We’re near Ogden-town - maybe a mile west of it, and maybe 15 or so miles south
of The House of Broken Dreams.  For once Maeve thanked her good fortune...
She knew the area - not well, but well enough to have a few contacts who might
be able to help her out.

Maeve looked at her erstwhile companions; both were unconscious, although only
Eric and herself were seriously injured - Christine looked like she had either
passed out or fainted.  Great - a hysterical fainting flower.
That’s all I’ll need, if I have to do what I suspect needs to be done.
Once again she contemplated simply killing Christine, but decided against
it.  Eric needed to be taken back to her employers, and keeping Christine
around might keep him more amiable.

Eric on the other hand was lucky to be alive.  He had channelled a great
deal of Void Magic to do what he had done - not once, but twice!  Maeve
still didn’t know how he could have even found Mercia from all the Worlds said
to rest in the Void.  She checked him for new wounds and burns, and opened
herself to the Sight, only a little.  Even with what little she saw, she
knew Eric was gravely hurt.  Eric needs care right now.   How
he survived, and how he found his way here are questions that must wait for
later.

Maeve didn’t dare draw on the Power to summon help - she had drawn more Power
in the last day and half than she would have liked to draw in a year, and she
felt the Call of Hrask nibbling at her soul.   She often wondered
what it would be like, to be able to use magic without suffering the Call of
Hrask, and the limitations it placed on sorcerers like herself.
Pfah!  She thought.  Idle musings - Hrask is not one to willingly
give away his power.   She steeled herself for the moment, and shook
Christine awake.

*
*          *

Christine woke to see Maeve leaning over her, tapping her face, trying to wake
her with melting snow... Snow?!  Christine jumped upright, afraid
that for one moment they were still in the Void, and then was relieved to
discover she was in a snowy field.   She didn’t know where they were
- it was the dead of summer in Toronto!   However, Maeve seemed to
know where they were - she was pointing through the wind and blowing snow
towards a small town.  Oh my God!  She thought, as she saw it
a bit more clearly.  It looks like something out of a historical play...
The penny dropped, and she realized that instead of taking them back to Earth,
to Toronto, Eric had somehow brought them to Maeve’s home - and that Maeve’s
home was a different world or time, she wasn’t really sure which.

She stared mutely in shock for a moment - she was past disbelief in magic and
mythical creatures - but suddenly discovering she might be on another world
stunned her badly, and she was suffering from a drastic paradigm shift.  Magic
is possible.  I might be on another world.  Eric could do Magic, for
God’s sake!  And they were still alive - all three of them.  That
was a big one to take in, given the events of the last three days.

Christine tried to calm herself, and took stock of the situation.  She was
freezing cold and bruised, but otherwise didn’t hurt too badly, although she
could feel some crusted dried blood on her face where the Demon had struck her
with its wing.   She was in a field covered with snow, and it was
nearing nightfall - she looked up with shock to see two moons; one a silvery
white orb, and the other a smaller, dull green one.  She was wearing a her
usual blue-jeans, and light T-shirt, white gym socks with her hiking boots - but
she had no coat, and what clothes she did have were soaking wet from her lying
in the slushy snow.

Eric didn’t look any better - in fact, he looked a lot worse that she
felt.  He was bleeding from his ears, his nose, mouth and even his
eyes!   She couldn’t see any cuts or wounds on him, other than what
the gang of street thugs had inflicted in Toronto, but even so he looked weak,
pale, and was not conscious.  His clothes were also soaking wet, like hers
- but at least he had a leather jacket to help keep him warm!

When she finished, she looked again at Maeve, who looked as run down and ragged
as she felt, and as hurt as Eric looked.  Christine didn’t know how she
was even standing, let alone trying to walk.  Maeve said something - it
sounded like a foreign language, of course, and made absolutely no sense at
all... Whatever spell, or whatever it was that allowed her to speak with Maeve
had ended.   Still, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand
that Maeve meant to find shelter, for her and Eric as well as herself.
She nodded, and tried to pick up Eric in a fireman’s carry, but couldn’t.
God he weighs a ton!  She thought wryly.  Dumpster diving’s
been too good to him.  I think the best I’ll be able to manage to do is
drag him wherever Maeve is taking us.

The two dragged Eric several hundred yards - the exertion managing to keep
Christine from totally freezing up in the cold, but even so she felt the cold
bite of the wind, and knew she would pay for this later.   Maeve was
aiming them towards a road, heading towards the small town up
ahead.   Christine was dead tired, but town meant shelter - and
shelter meant rest, and warmth, so she redoubled her efforts and the two of
them dragged Eric another several hundred yards.  She dropped Eric’s legs
with a whoosh of breath, nearly spent - and Maeve didn’t look much better.

A few dozen wooden cabins were nearby, clustered outside the crude wooden walls
of the town, their windows lit by lantern lights, forming a small
community.  Maeve left Christine and Eric for a moment, and went to one of
the doors and knocked once, then again, louder.

Christine nearly dozed as she was allowed to rest, but the knocking brought a
sudden unbidden fear to her.  Maeve was helping herself, yes - but was she
helping them?   Christine realized that although Eric seemed to trust
her, neither he nor she actually knew anything about Maeve, other than her name,
and that her clothes were spattered in blood.  For all we know, she
could be getting ready to sell us into slavery!  Christine thought,
then  Stupid!  She must have a reason for keeping Eric with her -
she must have some use for him.  No one would face those things without a
damn good reason.  The thoughts of the demons sent a shiver of terror
through her, and she let it pass her by.  Christine stood there, rubbing
her arms against the cold, and trying to stay warm.  If Maeve was betraying
them, there was nothing she could do.

The cabin door opened, and Maeve yammered at a short, dark haired man with an
olive-like Mediterranean complexion, whose mid-length curly hair was tied back
in a severe pony tail.  His beard covered a good half his face, and was
cut square on the bottom.  It looked very attractive, in its own
way.   The man looked at Maeve, who twiddled her fingers at him and
muttered something that was swept away by the winter winds, and he motioned Maeve
inside.  Christine didn’t know what to do, so she grabbed Eric’s arms and
tried to drag him over by herself...  Bloody little bitch isn’t going
to leave us out here to die in the...

Christine’s curses were suddenly silenced when the olive skinned man approached,
and hefted Eric into a crude approximation of a fireman’s carry.  He said
something to her: “Cav Allas, Serra...”, it sounded like - whatever that
meant.  It at least sounded friendly, so she followed him to the door and
inside out of the freezing wind.

She didn’t know what to expect when she went inside.  She saw the outside
and thought “Cabin” - the image bringing to mind rustic pine-wood floors with
gaps in them, furniture made of 2 x 4's, and stuffed deer heads over a
fireplace that had a gun-rack, right next to the stack of empty cases of
Miller-Lite and Budweiser 24's; a place away from home someone might go to
relax, hunt or fish.   She was more than a little surprised.

The ‘Cabin’ was better described as someone’s Home, and as such it was neither
rustic nor crude.  The floors were smooth varnished pine, and the walls
were panelled with a deep brown wood.  By the door an old-fashioned
coat-rack stood, some wool cloaks and a parka hung on its pegs.  A cloth
mat nearby had three pairs of fur-trimmed leather boots on it.  Just
inside the entry hall was a large room, lit by a pair of lanterns, but mostly
by a large wood-fire in a large hearth.  The fire gave off a lot of
warmth, and even from the front door felt delicious.  The windows were
latticed, and had glazed panes of glass in them that made the near-night
outside seem brighter. She noticed a few pieces of artwork - a statue here and
there, some dried flowers in a bowl, and the home was impeccably clean.  There
must be a woman living here, she thought.  No straight man is this
clean.

Inside a woman in her mid-30's, with the same olive complexion and dark hair
offered Maeve a heavy animal fur.  Wrapping herself in the fur and
crawling closer to the fire, Maeve called to Christine... “Kris..ten”, and
waved her over.  Obviously she meant for Christine to join her.  Only
too happy to oblige and get warm, she waited only long enough to see Eric
wrapped in a similar fur before she crawled next to the fire too.  Before
too much longer passed, she dozed off.

*
*          *

Maeve woke to the soothing touch of a cool cloth on her forehead, and jerked
halfway upright before gentle, but firm hands restrained her and pushed her
back down.  Her vision cleared as the disorientation passed, to see her
friend Anvi Marcello reach out to calm her.

“Rest, Maeve...  You and your odd male friend there almost didn’t make it
- and the other one’s been watching us like we’re liable to start breaking out
the beating sticks.  She doesn’t seem to understand a word we’re
saying.  She’s obviously a foreigner - is she the lad’s sister or some
such?”   Anvi’s fingers started massaging Maeve’s neck and shoulders,
working out the kinks and soreness - the pain from her wounds was already gone,
probably healed by Anvi while she slept; Anvi was an excellent healer.

Anvi had a smooth, relaxed voice that tended to calm those around him, and
Maeve relaxed a bit, knowing she was in good hands.  “I don’t know about
sister.  Friend, definitely, though.  She’s a bit of a scared rabbit,
too.”   Maeve shivered a bit, and let Anvi work her shoulders till
they were loose.  Anvi was a little taller than Maeve’s 5 feet, 6 inches,
but not by much, and he was well developed from years of manual labour.
His linen shirt had seen cleaner days, but his clothes were otherwise of good
make - his wife, Maria was an excellent seamstress.  She noticed Anvi’s
hair tied in a ponytail was going a little silver with age...  Damn...
I’m 29 - so I guess that would put Anvi over 40.  How the years pass when
you’re almost getting killed.  She thought.

“So.”  Anvi said, finishing up Maeve’s massage.  “Why bring them
here?  I thought you were...”  He cleared his throat
“...investigating... the House of Broken Dreams.  These aren’t um...
escapees, are they?”  Anvi looked at Maeve.  He tried to judge
whether Maeve’s bringing them here put his family in danger - but then realized
it didn’t matter... Maeve’s being here put his family in danger.

“I was.”  Maeve said, rolling her shoulders and neck, hearing them pop
with a satisfying crunch as everything popped back into place.  “And as
for bringing them here, I didn’t have much choice.  None actually.
We were so worn down and hurt that I would’ve handed myself over to a slave
trader if he’d offer to heal us.”  Maeve’s grim tone and serious look
stopped Anvi’s usual humorous retort.   “They’re not escapees - you
don’t have to worry about that... But that young man there - someone thought he
was important enough to find that he summoned a demon to collect him.”

Anvi shuddered.  Summoning demons, in addition to being forbidden to
virtually every known faith in the known world, was extremely difficult and
prone to ... accidents, especially ones that happen to the caster.  For
someone to summon a Demon to merely find someone spoke of either a confident
and powerful sorcerer, or an idiot.  And it probably isn’t the latter,
he thought.

“Do I want to know more?”  He said, bluntly.

“Not unless you wish to risk you and your wife’s life, Anvi - not this
time.  This is too big.  A rogue Bishop is involved - and I’m not
saying a single word more about it until we’re rested and gone from here.
You’ve been too good to me over the years for me to bring this kind of hell
down on your family.”  Indeed.  Maeve had been patched up by Anvi
more than once while “working” in Madragoor.  His skill at healing - both
mundane and magical - could have won him a prestigious job with a noble family,
but he didn’t care for the cut-throat politics Madragan nobility required of
their servants, and had emigrated to Valris a few years ago..

Anvi nodded.  Maeve had only once told him something was this
serious.  It had involved a political scandal that had ruined the careers
and lives of a good dozen high-ranking civil servants, and sent an equal number
of the nobility to the hangman for treason.  He had gotten involved then,
and lost his brother, and three of his best friends.  He knew if she was
warning him off, it was for good reason.   “This Bishop have any
reason to search for you?”

“Not yet, I don’t think - but it won’t be long - a day at most.  Maybe
only hours.  The only advantage we might have is that I don’t think he has
an idea where we are - for now.”  Maeve moved over to check Eric’s wounds
- and as she expected, there were none.  She nodded at Eric.
“Excellent work as always, Anvi.  Is the rabbit there hurt at all?”

“Thank you, my friend - but what did you expect?  Even in the middle of
the night I don’t do shoddy work.  You and your friend - you’d both been
Kissed pretty bad.  Feeling any after-effects?”   Although Maeve
didn’t hear her old friend say it, she knew what he meant... the Call of Hrask.

Maeve concentrated for a moment - she hadn’t really even taken the time to see
how she was, aside from checking that she wasn’t hurt.  She closed her
eyes, and looked within...  Slowly, she descended the steps of her mind,
deep into the secret spaces - where thoughts ended and base urges began.
It was there, roiling in her mind - the Call.   It was hard to
describe; it was both an intense, coveting greed, and a hatred of her human
flesh - a desire for warm, dry places, and meaty things to eat.  She knew
it well - but it didn’t seem to have grown much in strength, and was well under
control.  “I’m fine.”  She said.  “He should be fine too.
If not, I’ll deal with it.”

Anvi looked like he was going to argue, but Maeve’s tone stopped all discussion.
“Well, then if you’re set on resting a bit, then leaving - what CAN I do for
you?  Within reason, of course.”

“Of course, old friend.”  Maeve said, grinning.  ‘Within reason’
could mean a lot of things with her, since many of her friends said she was
sometimes totally crazy.   Maeve thought that the willingness to take
risks - the risks others called crazy - was what made her a good spy in the
first place.

“We need dry clothes, a day or two of food and a pack to carry it in.  I
need a weapon - anything will do - and we need a bit of rest... Could we stay
until the morning?”  Maeve asked.

Maria, who had been waiting quietly while Anvi and Maeve whispered, spoke
up.  “Of course you can stay until morning, Maeve - you and your
friends.   As long as you promise to help me get rid of my extra
turkey soup I have here on the hearth.  Anvi and I didn’t finish it, and
it’ll go to waste unless someone eats it.”

Anvi looked a little uncomfortable at Maria’s chiding, and nodded.  “I
think I have some spare clothes of Nissa’s that might fit you and Christine -
but I doubt I have anything large enough for Eric to wear and have it
fit.  I take it stealth - or at least misdirection - is called for?”

“You might.”  Maeve answered, looking relieved Anvi and Maria weren’t
digging for more information.

“Maybe an old cloak then...  I have just the thing.  Anything else?”

“Do you have any of those old Translator Amulets?  These two don’t speak
any language I know, and I can’t be casting spells every few hours to talk to
them.”  Anvi wasn’t a skilled battle-mage, but even a healer knew that too
much repeated spell use, too quickly was fatiguing - and dangerous - to the
caster.

“Um...”  Anvi thought.  “I might - but even so, this is an expensive
loan Maeve, even for an old friend.  I trust if you survive this, you’ll
pay me back somehow?”

“Don’t I always?”  Maeve asked, an innocent expression on her face.

He sighed, giving up.  “Yes, you do, don’t you.”

*
*          *

As the Demon flew through the Void, it sensed its new prey growing near... It
was returning to Mercia, to the world of the mortal creature who dared summon
it.  It had been bound once; now it only wanted revenge - revenge and
payment in blood.   It stopped short... The House of Broken Dreams, a
temple dedicated to its Mother, both literally and in Spirit, was near and the
wearer of the Black Ring as well.  It stalked into the temple, invisible
to sight and sound - a wraith, it swept through stone, wood and plaster like
smoke blowing through a sieve.  Its prey was close.  It could sense
the Wards the false Bishop had raised - they were strong, but it had fed well.
Very well.

The first warning Vargas had was the burning pain of his Wards shattering like
a piece of pottery hurled against a wall, and the flaring power in the black
ring of iron he wore...  The pain was designed to awaken him whenever he
was in danger - and for him to be in danger here meant only two possible
things: Betrayal, or... the Demon had failed!

Vargas rolled from his bed, crying out a spell of protection, even as he
gathered his wits.   He reacted quickly - almost instinctively, and
he had to admit it was impressive.  One doesn’t survive to become a
Ringbearer unless one is wary - and quick.  He thought.

Quick, a voice whispered in his mind. But not quick enough,
Ringbearer.  The Demon’s laughter echoed about him as the tendrils
of its power sought to pin him, and make him its slave, as he had controlled
it.   He felt a burning pain as claws savaged his chest, raked
against his arms and torso, cutting bloody runnels in his flesh.

“NO!”  Vargas cried.  “I bound you!”   His mind worked for
time - and he knew how to find it.  “I demand you tell me why you have not
succeeded!”  His dark ring gave off a light of its own - a shadow-light
that only the Chosen could see.  It illuminated the shadows with itself.
It showed the Demon’s true face.

The Demon halted - it had to answer - the Laws on that were clear... But it did
not have to answer what was not asked, nor did it have to volunteer
anything.  Its physical voice was like knives on slate.  “I found the
person linked to the Girl - it was on a distant world, even for the Void.
The person was marked by my Kin, Ring-bearer - and I had to offer much to
follow him.”  The Demon slowly coalesced around the Bishop’s body, held
tight by the Demon’s will.  The Ring-bearer was fighting him - and might
even win, for he was a strong one, and skilled in the Art.   “What
will you offer me, human?  What will you give me in exchange for my
troubles?”

“Nothing!  Nothing until you tell me why you failed!”  It was a
turning point, Vargas knew.  Bargaining with Demons was a fools work - but
it was better to be a living fool, than a dead one.  Every moment he had
to gather his will, the more the odds swung in his favor...  And the
damnedest thing is that the Demon knew that - and knew he knew it.  The
only explanation is that it wants something.  It never occurred to him
that the Demon might want to taunt him.

“I failed to return with the person linked to the Girl, because when I arrived to
seize him, he... left.”  The Demon groaned in agony as the chains on its
soul caused it to answer.  “I was not charged to chase him if he fled his
World.  My contract was annulled by his actions!”   The Demon
cried out, the pain of the commands ending...  “And now you have no hold
over me Sorcerer... So I say to you: What will you offer me for my
troubles?  Or will I simply kill you and take you as my payment?”
The Demon’s bloody claws clacked together in anticipation, and it paced about
the Bishop, held at bay by the shadowy lights of his Ring’s Wards.

The Bishop felt the cold chill of fear as sweat ran down the small of his back,
and beaded on his face.   He had gathered his strength, yes - but
summoning and controlling demons was no simple task, and he had yet to
rest.   He might be able to win, if they fought - but losing...
If he lost?   He could not simply Bind the creature again - it was
against their Laws, set down by the Holy Twins, their Jailers; the only Laws
they obeyed.  He shook his head.  “We could fight, you and I.  I
might even win - but even if you do kill me, the toll on your body and spirit
will be great, Demon.  Too great, I wager, to keep a prize such as myself
from your brethren who might have... prior claim on me, shall we say?
What if I were to offer you all the Dreamers in this house - every last one of
them, to do with as you will?  Would that
suffice?”

The Demon thought... The Dreamers had precious little to offer him.
Torture, blood, death - but nothing else.  They were already Taken.
“No!  It is not enough!  I want more, human!  MORE!”
It drew itself up, and raised its wings as if it were about to strike... It
knew it was fearsome - it could taste the fear in the Ringbearers mind.
Rampant fear, controlled by a mind with a iron grip, a vise born of practice
and innate talent.  This human will not crumble, it thought.  But it
might compromise.  The alternative was its imminent death.   “I
will have a sixth of your life, Ringbearer - a sixth of all your days left on
this ball of dust.  A sixth of everything you are, and what you might
become - only then will I be satisfied!”

Vargas considered.  He knew his imminent death was only a few moments
away, unless he was graced by a miracle this evening.  If I give this
thing what it wants, I will live... I will be weakened, but I will live.
He knew the power of the Black Ring, along with his training meant he could
best the creature, if he had sufficient notice - and maybe even if he didn’t...
the problem was the maybe.   He didn’t mind risking himself, but he
didn’t dare betray the Order, or their cause.  Tiamat must be found!
He thought.  No matter the cost to me!

“I accept, Demon!”  He cried, his Wards falling.  “Take your due and
leave me!”

Vargas Elm felt the creatures body envelop him, its wings folding around him
like shrouds.  Its mind soaked into his, like poison into dry
bread...  It began to feed.  The screams were loud, and long.  As
Vargas lost consciousness, his last thought was of horrible, bloody vengeance
for whomever was responsible for this turn of events.

*
*          *

Eric woke quickly when Christine shook him.  He felt his heart racing, and
he realized he had been having a nightmare - but for the life of him he
couldn’t remember any details... except his mother.   Once he cleared
his head, he looked at Christine, at the room, Maeve, and the stranger she was
talking to.   As usual, her language was just babble - but also like
before, Eric felt he was somehow very close to understanding it - at least in
part.  And the funny part is, I have no idea why.  He thought,
and:  My ribs don’t hurt.

“Where are we, Christine?”, he whispered.  “And why aren’t we hurt?
My ribs don’t hurt anymore...”

“I dunno Eric... We were about to be killed by those ...things... and then you
and Maeve did something.  A spell maybe?  Then I blacked out; when I
woke up, you and I were lying in the snow outside, and Maeve was shoving snow
at me to wake me up.  We dragged you here - its that man’s home - I think
his name is On-vee.  I haven’t been able to make out much, since I’ve been
awake.   I guess Maeve or On-vee did some sort of healing magic -
either that or we’ve been unconscious for days, which I doubt.”

“No - you’re right... It must be something like that - I’d have way more
stubble.”  Eric said, rubbing his hand across his chin.  It met some
resistance - a day’s growth at best.  He ignored his beard for the moment,
and turned his attention to his ribs, and then his hands... There was no pain,
no cuts, and no blisters... Not even a hint of a scar.  That is some
pretty cool magic, Thought Eric.  If I can do magic, I HAVE to
learn some of that!  Eric then went somber for a moment.  If I
had this magic when I needed it, could I have saved Norm and Dave?

Christine watched Eric for a moment, actually glad to have a normal moment, out
of immediate danger, but turned away when he pulled off his T-shirt to check
his ribs. She didn’t really know why, except maybe that she felt like Eric was
a sort of little brother by default, his sister being her best friend - and no
sister likes to spy on her little brother while he strips.  When she looked
away, she saw the pleasant dark-haired woman which she presumed to be Anvi’s
wife or sister approaching with a number of large wooden bowls and tin
spoons.   Oh thank God, she thought.  Food!  The last
thing I think I ate today was a bowl of salted peanuts at lunch... and a bottle
of Bacardi and Cola after work.  Even rat soup would be good after what we
just went through!  She paused a moment, thinking about Earth’s middle
ages, and what people were said to have eaten in a pinch.  Maybe not,
though... still it can’t be rat.  It smells too good!

As the older woman ladled soup into bowl after bowl, Christine’s - and then
Eric’s and Maeve’s stomachs grumbled and growled almost as if she had called
suppertime in a kennel full of starving animals.  Maeve finished talking
with Anvi while Eric and Christine gratefully each took a bowl of soup.
Eric tried to sip some of the broth - but before he could, the woman serving
the soup - Anvi’s wife? - lashed out with her spoon, and knocked his knuckles
so hard he dropped his spoon.  She muttered something under her breath,
and Maeve laughed.  It was a pleasant sound, made all the more pleasant
when compared to their recent past.

Maeve took some pendants dangling on leather thongs from Anvi, and brought them
over to Eric, and Christine, still chuckling and saying something in response
to Anvi’s wife, who looked more stern and reproaching than angry.
She handed one each to Eric and Christine, and motioned for them to put them
on.  Eric did so immediately - and Christine a moment later.

Maeve’s singsong babble continued for a moment with Anvi’s wife, when Eric’s
hearing sounded garbled for a moment... confused - and then clear.
“Honestly,” Maeve said “You’d think they’ve never seen turkey soup before,
Maria.  Or magic, for that fact.”

“What the...”  Eric said.  “I can understand
you!  Christine, did you hear what Maeve said - I mean understand what she
said?”  Eric looked over at Christine, ignoring Maeve and Anvi’s
smirks.

“Yeah, I did - but how?”  Christine looked surprised as well - but also
less confused.  Duh!  She thought.  It has to be these
odd amulets they just gave us.

Maeve chuckled.  “You can hear me because I assume you’re not deaf... and
you can understand me because of the translation amulets you are now
wearing.  They are expensive, and hard to come by - so please be careful
with them.  I owe my friend - and our hosts, Anvi Marcello and his wife
Maria a great deal for those talismans.  While you wear them, you will be
able to understand me, and most people around you.”

Eric nodded.  “They’re magical, then?  Wow!”  He too was
realizing that the situation he and Christine were in was more than unusual -
and the idea of a magical necklace didn’t seem too far-fetched after casting
spells and being chased by demons.  They did glow to his special vision,
so maybe they were magical... he didn’t have any other way to explain what they
did.

“What else would they be?”  Asked Maeve

“Well maybe technology.”  Said Christine.  “We don’t have magic - I
mean real magic, where we come from.  Not like this.”   She
smirked quirkily, thinking about how useless someone like David Copperfield or
Criss Angel would have been in the situations they had just gone through.

“No magic, huh?  What do you call those carriages without horses that
travel faster than birds can fly, then Christine?”  Maeve looked at the
pair, standing with arms on her hips, as if challenging them on the point.

It looked as if the argument was going to continue on into the night, when
Maria stepped up, and forced a bowl of turkey soup into Eric and Christine’s
hands, and then another one at Maeve. “Less talk - more eating.  You can
talk when you’ve rested and eaten your fill.”  Maria looked at Anvi for
support.

Anvi nodded.  “You’re probably still weak from your ordeal, young man, and
you as well Maeve.  The soup would do all three of you good, and you’re
not likely to find food half as good on the road if you’re leaving at
dawn.  Eat up - you can jabber to your hearts content once you
leave.”   He looked at the three of them, and saw the hurt on Eric
and Christine’s faces.  “I don’t mean to be cruel, but Maeve tells me that
your simply being here, with her puts me and my wife in great danger - and I
intend to see you gone, all three of you, by dawn.  So eat up while I pack
the things you asked for, Maeve - and then rest.  You’ll be woken - and be
leaving in just a handful of hours.”

Maria approached Eric. “Young man, I know your clothes are soaking wet.
If you would crawl out of them, I can dry them by the fire.  I don’t have
much you can wear in the meantime, except maybe nightshirt of Anvi’s - but at
least you’ll be able to leave in dry clothes, come morning.”

Eric looked a little embarrassed, but nodded - he knew wet clothes were
potentially lethal in cold weather, and started to shimmy out of his jeans and
shirt under the fur blanket.  “Thank you, Mrs. Marcello.  I appreciate
it.”

Maria looked askance at Eric’s comment.  “You’re welcome, young man, but
around here its Serra Marcello, or Maria.  I’m not sure what Missus means,
except that it shows you’re a foreigner - and I think that might be dangerous
for you, your friend, and Maeve if that became known.  Serra for ladies,
and Ser for gentlemen – remember now!”

“Um...” Eric said.  “I think I understand.  Thank you.”

Anvi left the room, and went upstairs, his footfalls sounding heavy through the
wooden boards of the home.  Maria watched the three of them, and said only
one word, pointing at their soup bowls: “Eat.”  The three of them had
faced demons and lived - but even they knew there was no point in fighting
Maria.  They ate - and to all three of them, nothing in the world until
that time seemed to taste as good at that moment as that soup did.

*
*          *

A little while later, full from Maria’s excellent turkey soup, and half-ready to
doze off, Christine, Eric and Maeve had some privacy to talk - Maria had gone
upstairs to assist Anvi in gathering whatever they were looking for.
Christine decided to not waste the moment.

“What’s going on, Maeve?”  Christine meant to ask about a lot of things:
why Eric was so important; why had they come here - and how had Maeve gotten to
their world; how much trouble were they really in - but it was too much, and
from what she had heard in the interplay between Maeve, Anvi and Maria, getting
the answers to those questions while in Anvi’s home would be difficult at best.

Maeve seemed to ignore the subtext of Christine’s question for the moment.
“We’re in deep trouble.  I guess you two don’t even know where we
are, so I’ll try and fill you in.  We’re on a world we call Mercia - I
don’t know what you call your world - and we are in a country called Valris, my
homeland, roughly between the kingdoms of Orovar and Valorin.  These
kingdoms are ruled over by the Muireanne and the Fireannor, the High Queen and
High King, and they are advised by the Clergy of the Askelinian Faith.  In
some towns or cities a Priest or Priestess will be the ruling power, while in
others a trusted Lord or Lady may be given rulership.  In Ogden-town, the village
we are nearest, Lord Kethan Enserric rules on behalf of the Council of
Hierarchs.  The reason we are in great danger is that the man who summoned
that... demon... is a rogue cleric - a Bishop who has forsaken his vows to our
faith and joined with our mortal enemies.  I can’t tell you more without
endangering Maria and Anvi more than I already have - so can you please hold
your questions about this until we leave?”

Eric looked at Maeve.  “Then how can there be a ‘rogue priest’ - wouldn’t
he eventually be found out?”

“Maybe.” Maeve said.  “The Priest - a Bishop named Vargas was also a
worshipper of Hrask - and a bearer of the Black Ring, which won’t mean anything
to you.  What it means to me is that He’s obviously had some serious
magical training, and might have been able to elude the attentions of other
priests of the faith both by his magical skill, and by being posted to a
hinterlands post like Ogden-town.  We’re on the edge of the Valdan
frontier, the border between our country and Yaskar to the north.  Few
really skilled or important clergy ever come here - it’s the perfect post for
someone to hide in, really...”

“Well, if He’s a rogue, can’t we just go to the police, or the Lord or
something?”  Eric asked.

Maeve sighed.  “We could - if anyone other than myself knew he was a
heretic and a traitor - and trust me, no one is going to take the word of a
common citizen above a Bishop of the faith when it comes to each others
word.   We’d be lucky if we weren’t tossed in jail or worse for
slandering a fine upstanding priest of the community.”

It looked as if Maeve was going to say more, but Anvi’s heavy footsteps were
heard descending the wooden stairs from his home’s upper floor, and they heard
his voice call out “I’ve got the things you asked for.” as he approached,
followed by Maria, who carried a bundle of clothing and dark cloaks.

Maeve motioned for their conversation to cease, and rose to greet her
friend.  Anvi was carrying two leather rucksacks, and a trio of three
bladed weapons on belts.  He handed the rucksacks to Maeve, who hefted
them - they felt rather well-filled.  She looked at Anvi, surprised.
“This feels like a bit more than a few days of food, Anvi.”

“It is, Maeve.  It’s about a weeks worth of food, plus a few skins of
water to drink as well, plus a bar of soap, a comb for the three of you, and a
razor for Eric, courtesy of Maria and myself, as well as a few other odds and
ends.”  Anvi held out his hands apologetically.  “Don’t thank me
Maeve.  I’m just trying to make sure you survive long enough to pay me
back for those Amulets.”

Maeve felt her eyes tear over a bit - she had so few true friends that the
gesture of friendship, and Anvi’s going the extra mile was more than
appreciated.  “Thank you, my friend.”

“Fah!  It’s only a bit of food, and my dull razor to boot!  If you
want to thank me, thank me by staying alive, Maeve.”  He said, clasping
her shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie.  “You’ll need these too, knowing
you.”  He said, motioning to the weapons he carried.  He handed Maeve
a sheathed short, straight sword about 30 inches long to Maeve, and tossed to
Eric and Christine a sheathed knife each.

Eric drew the knife from its sheath.  It was about 10 inches long, and
sharp on two sides, with a small T-shaped cross-hilt and a handle wrapped in
black leather.  It looked like a knife used for fighting, rather than for
cooking, or as a tool.  “Do... do you think we’ll need to use these,
Anvi?”

“Maybe, Ser Eric - and maybe not.  But I’d feel a whole lot better if I
sent you three off with at least some means of protecting yourselves than if I
did without - and if things are good, maybe you won’t need them after
all.”  Even though he tried to keep his tone light, it was obvious Anvi
didn’t expect things to go that easily.

Eric was silent, as was Christine.  Maeve simply nodded in thanks, and
checked the sharpness of the shortsword she had been given.  The steel
wasn’t the best, but it looked good enough to do the job - and it was sharp as
well.  Anvi it would seem, had been taking good care of this.
She didn’t like to admit it, even to herself, but Maeve felt a whole lot more
comfortable - and in control - when she had a weapon.  She began to
relax.

“And these are for you as well, Maeve.”  Said Maria, handing out clothes
to each of the three, except for Eric who only was given a cloak.
The clothes included a heavy white chemise and leather vest, a leather skirt
and accompanying hose, leather boots, and a dark cloak with a warm hood that
would also serve to hide their faces.  “It’s not the best garb to be
wandering out and about in the middle of Wintersend in, but it’s the best I
could do on short notice.”

Maeve nodded gratefully  “It’s more than great, Maria, Anvi.  You
both have done more than I could have ever hoped for, and I can only hope to be
able to repay you one day.”

Maria blushed at the gracious compliment.  “You’d best get some rest,
Maeve and your friends too.  Morning waits for no woman, nor man either!”

Anvi yawned as if in agreement.  “And we had best leave them to get some
rest too, Maria.  Shall we go upstairs and leave them be?”  She
nodded, and as the two left the room for the stairs, he turned and said “Let
yourself out in the morning Maeve, if you should wake before us.  I’m sure
you’d like to be long gone from here before midday.”

Maeve nodded - Anvi’s statement was also a politely phrased request.  She
waited until their two hosts left the main room, and turned to her new
charges.  “Do either of you need more sleep, or would you be able to leave
now?”

Christine, who hadn’t slept for over thirty hours raised her hand.  “I
don’t know about Eric, but I need a few hours or I’ll pass out on my
feet.  What about you Eric?”

“I could probably walk for a few hours, but I could use a little bit of sleep
too.  Are we going to hurt Anvi and Maria if we stay a few hours
Maeve?”  Eric said.

“Maybe, but maybe not.  If we left, they would certainly be safer, but
we’re unlikely to find a place as restful as this to rest once we leave.
We need to leave before dawn - preferably earlier, though so we have probably
just under six hours.”

“I guess it’ll have to do.” said Eric.  He fiddled with his digital
wristwatch and set an alarm, while Maeve watched him with curiosity.

“What are you doing?”  She asked.  “And why is that bracelet on your
wrist making sounds?”

“I’m setting an alarm, so we get up in six hours.”  Eric said.

Maeve rolled her eyes at Eric and Christine.  “And you say you don’t have
magic.”  She gathered her fur blanket, and rolled over to get some sleep,
and heard Eric and Christine doing the same.  Maeve thought at first they
might spend the time talking about what had happened, and why, but for whatever
reason, it seemed they fell asleep quickly.  She was beginning to mull
things over in her head herself, when sleep overtook her.

Chapter 9 - Explanations

Maeve woke to the shrill cries of Eric’s odd bracelet, and wondered how he and
Christine could sleep through its infernal racket.   It was still
dark outside, but there was enough dim light from Anvi’s banked fireplace to
see Eric enough to shove him awake.  “Shut that damn thing up - I don’t
want to wake Maria and Anvi!”  It was only a mild rebuke - she didn’t even
understand how the odd bracelet worked or what it was, and didn’t think they
would hear it either, but the odd, un-natural noise grated on her ears and she
knew she and her unwanted charges were going to be having a very long day.

Eric felt the shove, and blinked awake.  He had been dreaming - he had
impressions of burning incense and chattering voices, of soft linen sheets
and... and as he became more aware of the waking world, the remnants of his
dream flitted away.  He didn’t mind - it was a dream he had experienced
before, and knew he would have again.  Sometimes the dream felt like he
was in a hospital - but other times, when he felt he could understand what the
voices were saying, he had vague memories of fear, but nothing
more.   He coughed quietly, and thumbed off his watch alarm.
“Better?” he said.

“Much.  Wake your friend while I pack our things.  We have many miles
to go before we rest, and every moment we stay here puts Anvi and Maria in more
danger.”  Maeve turned away, and buckled on her sword, and began gathering
supplies into the three packs.  “We’ll eat our morning meal on the road as
we travel.”  Eric nodded, and shook Christine gently.

Christine started at his touch, and for a moment seemed somewhat
disoriented.  Eric calmed her quietly and pointed at Maeve gathering
supplies, his fingers to his lips to indicate silence.  She nodded.
“What time is it?” she asked Eric.

“My watch says its about 4am - but that might not mean much here, since we
don’t know how long their day is.  Or their years for that matter.
Or anything else.”  Eric tried to turn the comments into a joke, but they
both knew they were in deep trouble, and the tone fell more than a little
flat.  “Either way, we’d better pack our stuff, such as it is...”

Christine nodded in understanding, and gathered her clothes, and packed them in
the second rucksack, along with the supplies given to the three of them by Anvi
and his wife.  Eric didn’t have much to add to the rucksack, not having
replacement clothes.  “This may be a stupid question Maeve, but where are
we going in such a hurry?”

“Away from here, Christine.  The longer we’re here, the worse for Anvi and
Maria.  And since you don’t know where anything is at the moment, anything
else I say would be meaningless - so let’s leave it for the road.”
Maeve’s tone was short and abrupt, and both Christine and Eric could hear the
frustration in it - so they held their piece.

Soon everything was packed, Maeve with one pack and the sword, and Christine
and Eric with the other pack, each armed with a knife.  Maeve looked them
over, and re-adjusted Christine’s belt and knife.  “Easier to grab if we
get into a fight.”  She explained.  “This way you won’t cut your belt
off trying to get the knife out.”  Eric figured they must look halfway
capable, since Maeve nodded and made for the front door.  “Let’s be off
people.  We’ve got a ways to go, no matter which way we walk.”

The door opened with a scraping sound, as the doorjamb brushed ice and
snow.  Outside snow was blowing in tiny flurries, and it was cold - but
not anything like the bitter cold of the Void.   Sort of like early
Spring, thought Eric, as they left Anvi and Maria’s home.  It was pre-dawn,
and there was ample light to see, with the light reflecting off the white cover
of the snowy ground.  As Eric’s and Christine’s eyes made the adjustment
to the greyish light, Maeve closed the door behind them.

Eric could see the small cottages around Anvi’s home for the first time, and
stood staring.   Wooden walls and thatch roofing were what he noticed
at first, followed by the complete lack of non-natural noises.   He
listened... there were no cars, no planes, no radios and no televisions - just
wind and the sounds of birds, the crunch of their boots in the snow, and the
occasional crack of a frozen tree branch.  He listened with a quiet
reverence until Christine shook him.

“You okay Eric?”  Christine asked.

“I think so.”  He said, and then looked at Christine with a serious
mein.   “I... I’m sorry for getting you mixed up in this.  I
didn’t know who else to turn to - I panicked.”

Christine could hear how upset Eric’s voice was, and nodded.  “I can’t
really say it’s okay.”  She said.  In a way she felt kind of
complimented - when Eric needed help the most, she was the one he turned
to.  “...But seeing as how I’m doing Angie such a big favour keeping you
alive, I figure she’ll owe me for the rest of my natural life by the time we
get back.”  She tried to put some humor she didn’t feel into her voice,
but they both knew that if going back meant passing those... things... again,
they might NOT be going back.

Eric nodded, then turned to their guide.  “Where to, Maeve?”  He was
surprised to hear how far his voice carried - it didn’t often do that back in
Toronto, in the city.   Eric immediately hushed his voice and
muttered a weak “Sorry.”

“Hush - and follow me.  We’re safe for the moment, but we’ll be safer
still away from Ogden town.”  The three travellers walked quickly through
the snow into the nearby woods east of Ogden.  Small trails had been worn
in the snow by others gathering wood the day before so the going was easier for
a while, and soon they had left the trails behind and were making their own as
they pushed northwards.  After they reached a suitably remote place, away
from prying eyes of any townsfolk, Maeve halted the three of them.  “It’s
time for something to eat - and I suppose a few questions as well.  I
thank you for not asking them while we were at Anvi’s.”

“No problem.”  Eric said.  “I think I know our first question: Where
are we going?”

“Easy.”  Said Maeve.  “I don’t quite know.  It depends on what I
decide to do.”

“Not much of an answer.”  Christine muttered.  “How about this one -
why are you helping us?”

“That one’s harder.” Maeve replied.  “I guess you could say I’m a
investigator for my Church -  they call me when they have to know what’s
going on.  Valris, like I said is a Theocracy.  Priests and
Priestesses, Clerists and Lecterns possess much of the power, although there is
a hereditary nobility too.  I suppose it’s all rather confusing to
outlanders like yourselves.”  She paused for a breath, and handed Eric and
Christine a small loaf of bread about 8 inches long, and a long home-made
sausage.  “Eat up - we won’t be stopping for several hours if possible...”

Christine nodded and began to eat - the bread tasted sweet, like it was flavored
with honey, yet it was coarse like a rye.  It was good - and the sausage,
though a little fatty wasn’t bad either.  Eric polished his off in half
the time it took Christine to eat hers, and he began again with the questions.

“You didn’t answer Christine’s question; why are you helping us?”  Eric
said, wiping the remnants of bun and sausage from his lips.

“Well, it’s a long story.  I was sent by my Church - the Askelinian Church
- to investigate the House of Broken Dreams because a large number of Dreamers
- don’t ask, I’ll explain later - had been taken there without the public being
aware of it.  The House of Broken Dreams is publicly a sanitarium - but as
anyone knows, a Dreamer Isn’t insane - so why bring them here, of all places?
I was sent to find out why - but I got caught, and only managed to escape to
find His Grace, Vargas Elm, summoning a Demon to find you I guess.  He had
some girl - one of the Dreamers - on an altar as a sacrifice.”   The
venom in her voice when Maeve spoke the priests name made her bitterness more
than apparent.

“So if you’re such a hot-shot professional, how did you get caught?” Eric
asked.

Maeve flushed, embarrassed.  “I got cocky.  I assumed the Dreamers
were normal, and that there wouldn’t be a serious effort made to protect them
or the House of Broken Dreams.  I should have known better than to
assume.  I made a mistake, and I got caught.  It won’t happen
again.”   She straightened out and stood, brushing an errant hair the
wind had blown into her face.  “As to why I’m helping you, let’s just say
it’s in my church’s best interests to keep you both out of his clutches.”

“So you’re some kind of religious zealot, then.  Very devout?”
Christine said carefully.

Maeve began to speak, then stopped as if what she was going to say died before
it could leave her lips.  When she did speak, it was as if she was
releasing something long pent up - an inner demon of some sort that could be
finally told out loud perhaps simply because Eric and Christine were total
strangers.  “I was devout, once... many years ago.  I made sacrifices
to Askeline and Isundal, and their children, the Twins - I prayed, just as most
Valdans do, until one day it wasn’t enough anymore.  An assassin tried to
kill me, for my past work for the church, and instead killed my brother
Nile...  And when I brought him to them, covered in his blood, begging for
them to heal him, to bring his spirit back to his body, they turned their back
on me and refused.  I lost my faith in both Gods and Goddesses that day,
but I still serve my country and my church - its all I have left.”  Maeve
seemed lost in her memory of that day for a moment.

“Priests can heal the sick?”  Christine said in shock  “Can they
raise the dead too?”

“Yes.”  Said Maeve.  “Although only the priestesses of Askeline can
raise the dead, for her dark aspect holds the keys to the afterlife, and only
she has the power to permit a dead soul to return to its body once slain.”

“Holy Crap!”  Christine muttered, a bit stunned.

“What’s wrong, Christine?”  Eric asked.  “They’ve got magic - why not
miracles too?”

“Yeah... it’s just that I was having a Ten Commandments flashback and
thinking... thinking we don’t know an awful lot about their Gods or
Goddesses.  And that we should be careful until we do.”

“Good point, Christine.”

Maeve looked at Eric and Christine.  “You speak as if the Gods of your
world don’t heal their followers, or grant boons to their worshippers and
bestow curses on their foes?”  She looked as if she couldn’t comprehend
why they would worship such beings.

“No, they don’t.” said Christine, sounding mildly offended at Maeve’s
holier-than-thou tone.

“But they used to, at least in legends.”  Said Eric.  “There was a
time when it seemed like every country had its own gods - and our legends and
stories tell of miracles done at God’s behest.  Over time - a few thousand
years - most of the different Gods faded away, until most of the world
worshipped maybe a handful of Gods and Spirits, and Miracles and magical
healing was thought to be a myth.”

“Then how do you know your Gods are real?”

Christine said “Most of us don’t know.  Some of us accept God - or
Goddess, depending on your faith - as being real through faith alone...
Others, who believe in something divine, but don’t claim to know what form he or
she takes we call Agnostics.  Those that don’t believe in anything we call
Atheists.”

Maeve shook her head in wonder and confusion.  “I daresay I don’t
understand your world much better than when we began this conversation - but
then I suppose you feel the same way about here.  Let’s save any further
discussion until we’ve put some more miles behind us.”

“Where are we going, then?”  Eric asked.  “You’re asking us to trust
you - on the basis that you work for a church whose values and beliefs we know
nothing about.  I’d like to know a little more about this Askelinian
church before I go too much farther, if that’s all right...  And maybe why
they’re so hot to break up this Bishop’s plans with Dreamers, whatever they
are.”

“Urg!  You ask too many questions - questions that don’t have simple
answers.”  She thought a moment.  “If I promise to tell you of the
Church, and the Magnate, and the Dreamers while we walk, will you follow me
now?”

Eric looked at Christine and shrugged.  “Beats standing around and
arguing.  What do you think, Chrissy?”

“I guess.  I’m getting pretty cold just standing here.  Just fill us
in, Maeve - we’re totally in the dark here, and everything you tell us could
mean the difference between us being useful or dead weight - or us living or
dying.”

“Fair enough.”  Maeve said, re-evaluating the brown haired
Christine.  She was smarter than she appeared - and seemed to read people
well enough to realize Maeve might not be as altruistic as she wanted to
appear.  She started hiking, and kept the three of them going at a good
pace for almost an hour before speaking...

“Let’s start with the Church.  Just so you know, I’m only going into the
basics - there are songs and stories that take days to explain all the roles
the Gods and Goddesses of Mercia fill, so now I’ll speak only of Askeline and
Isundal.   Askeline is also known as Lady Moon, and has three aspects
- one for each of our moons.  Seleni is the Maiden, the warrior and a
symbol of rebirth and renewal.  Thuria is the Mother, the bringer of life
and the symbol of love and unity that draws a family together.   Then
Doviar, the Crone, is the bringer of wisdom, and symbolizes that death comes to
all things in their time - even Gods.   Her consort is Isundal, also
known as The Skyfather - and to others as Lord-Skyblind.  He embodies the
Sun and fire, air and the sky.  He is wise, and stern - but loving and
protective.  His eyes watch over the flock by day, and his consort’s cool
lights guide us in the night, giving us both beacons to find our way, but also
a reminder that we are not alone in the dark.  They have two children
also, named Feana and Hathor, known as The Twins.  Together, this composes
the Divine Familia.  The people of Valris follow Askeline and her family
because it was her grace and divine strength that allowed us to escape the yoke
of slavery in the deserts of Hserin and find our freedom.  That was three
and a half thousand years ago, and we as a people have never forgotten.”

Eric only half listened as Maeve explained her faith to him and Christine - he
was distracted by something else... or rather, the lack of
something.   Eric paused, unsure of what exactly was
wrong.   Christine and Maeve noticed him falling behind, but their
call to him went ignored.   It’s my head!  He
thought.  There aren’t any voices!  Why?   Eric
couldn’t figure it out – he’d been off his meds for at least 24 hours -
probably more - and he sure hadn’t been totally stabilized before all hell
broke loose in the Neilson Clinic.  How?  Even during those times
he’d been fully stabilized with anti-psychotics, he’d heard the voices,
muttering in the back of his head, partially unheard - but never absent for
very long.  Now they were gone - totally.  As odd as that seemed, it
scared him.

For years the voices had been a constant in his life - either on or off his
medication, they had always been there.  Yeah, they were malevolent and
yeah, they scared him silly - but he was never alone, and his mind was never
‘quiet’ - there was always something buzzing around in there, from veiled
threats to nasty insinuations, to seductive promises of peace if he did
something foolish.   Now, it seemed as if one of the pillars of his
core self - even a flawed and malevolent pillar as the voices were, was
suddenly missing, and Eric was thrown off balance by it.  It felt like he
was in a house with an unstable foundation, and that the landscape of his mind
that he knew would be forever changed.  What was worse was he didn’t know
if he was happy they were gone, if he was scared it was a trick and they would
return without warning, or if he would prefer them to be there, because it was
what he was used to... or maybe a bit of all three.  That’s why it scared
him.

“Eric?” Christine said, touching her hand to his shoulder gently.  “You
Okay?”  He jumped a little, not because he was hearing things, but because
he had been so lost in self examination he didn’t realize his friend had
approached.

“Um... yeah.  Uh... Christine, how long does it take for the meds I’m on
to get out of a persons system?  I mean assuming I was on them for maybe
three days, tops?”   Eric fidgeted, worried, although he doubted
Christine would know why he was worried.

“I’m not sure - maybe a day or two... Oh no!”  Christine’s worried
expression changed to near panic, and Eric could see Christine’s face echo her
feelings.  Eric shared them, but for a different reason.   “Are
the voices bothering you?”

“No.”

“Good... I know you don’t like talking about them, it’s just that with what you
said I thought you were about to fall down and have a panic attack or
something.”

“It’s more than that.”  Eric said, struggling to figure how to explain
what was bothering him.

“What’s the hold up?”  Maeve called out, seeing her two charges lagging
behind.  She saw Eric and Christine, and Eric’s worried face, and put the
pieces together.   “Is Eric all right?  You were living at a
Sanatorium, right?  Is he right in the head?” she asked Christine.
She was actually surprised Eric had managed to hold out this long without aid.

“I was.” Said Eric.  “But I’m okay.  I don’t know how to explain it,
but I can’t hear the voices anymore... Nothing - like they were never there.”

“That’s great!”  Christine said.

“Yes and no.  Even with the drugs, the voices never went away, not totally
- not like now.  It’s like I felt before I got ill, Christine - before
Mom.”  Eric’s voice cracked a little when he mentioned his mother.
“It’s wrong - insanity just doesn’t go away for no reason
Christine!   I should be happy - I feel like I’m cured - like a
weight on my soul is gone - but all I can feel is dread, waiting for the other
shoe to drop.”

Maeve didn’t know what to say... and neither did Christine.  Eric had been
diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia over five years ago - and he was right;
schizophrenia doesn’t just ‘go away’.   “Maybe it had something to do
with us being brought here - or going through that place... the Void?” said
Christine.  “Maybe you were cured?”

“I don’t know.”  Eric said, the tension mounting inside him.  Before
he came here, before the night of the slaughter, he would have been reduced to
a gibbering wreck from the stress he felt, and what had happened to him.
Now, he just felt anxious.  “I don’t want to talk about it now - I just
thought you both should know.  Let’s move on in case I am dreaming and its
only temporary, okay?”

Christine looked at Eric, and nodded.  “Sure.”

“If you are able, moving on would be good.” Maeve added.  “We’ve only
covered five or so miles, and my contact in this area is still at least 10
miles from here.  It will be several hours march to reach him, assuming we
can find his camp easily, which is assuming a lot.”

“Your friend have a name?”  Eric asked dryly.

“Kai Rodin - He’s a hunter and tracker, and a damn good warrior.  He
followed the trail of the Dreamers to the House of Broken Dreams - and then I
was called to look into it from here.  He’s my guide back through the
wilds of Valris, so I get home alive and healthy - and now you two as
well.”  Maeve shook her head.  “I absolutely know he’ll have NO idea
what to make of either of you.”  Maeve motioned for them to go, so they
began hiking once more.

As they hiked in silence, Christine and Eric began to realize just how
different this place was - both physically and in other ways...  Of
course, it was like being in winter in a temperate climate - but it was more
than that.  could smell the cleanliness in the air - it was sweet and pure
- like nothing they ever breathed before.   The trees seemed to bear
a tint of blue in their bark, like some pine and spruce needles - but different,
and the sky seemed a shade off of what they were used to...  There was no
light or sound pollution, no smog beyond that made by common wood smoke.
It seemed unreal - like a time before time - like too few places on Earth truly
remained.  To Eric, it felt more like home than home did.

About an hour passed before anyone spoke - this time it was Maeve who broke the
silence.  “Hold up here for a moment.  It looks like you two could
use a rest.”

She wasn’t wrong - Christine was tired, and the leather boots were chafing in a
horrible way - she was sure she was going to have at least one blister come
evening, and Eric was breathing hard.  He was able enough - life on
Toronto’s streets kept him able enough to run if needs be - but he was far from
fit - and his extra weight from dumpster-diving gave him an extra load to carry
that neither woman had to contend with.

While Christine and Eric rested, Maeve sipped at her water-skin, and then began
speaking.  “You both asked me before about the Dreamers - and why I was at
the House of Broken Dreams.  They sort of tie in together, so forgive me
if this gets complicated.    Dreamers are children in that
in-between stage, where they are older than children, yet not quite adults -
who fall asleep one day and never wake up, ever again.  They remain alive
- as long as they are cared for they drink if liquids are provided, and even
eat if food is carefully given - but they don’t respond to sound or speech, or
touch.  They simply fall asleep, and never wake.”

“That’s horrible!”  Christine said.  “Is there no cure?  Even
with magic?”

“None that anyone has ever been able to find.  We don’t even know why they
fall ill - why some children are susceptible, and others are not.
Can you imagine the horror of being a mother or father, with a healthy, vibrant
son or daughter, full of life and all its possibilities - and then the next day
your child sleeps - and you know he or she will never wake.”  Maeve shook
her head in horror, to clear from her head the memories of what she had
seen.  “Imagine now that you are the parent of this young adult - to what
length would you go to revive them?  Would you pinch them?  Slap
them?  Shake them?  What if that didn’t work?  Maybe a small cut
- or a small burn?  I have seen parents so desperate to have their
children wake and return to them that they performed actions that might make a
torturer shy away - all from Love.”

“Oh my God.”  Eric muttered the useless oath as he tried to comprehend the
odd illness.

“So what happens to the Dreamers, then?”  Christine asked.  “Do their
families send them to places like this House of Broken Dreams?”

“Yes and no.  In Valris, we often place such children in the care of
Clerists trained to deal with such things, in temples.  At times, their
families would visit, but eventually they pass away - some quickly, but most
living in dreams until sometime between their twenty-fifth and thirtieth
birthday.  In the far north here, it seems they follow the Madragan
tradition of sending their dreamers to places like the House of Broken Dreams -
Asylums and Madhouses where their families can forget their pain by forgetting
their child.  Other lands have other customs - but in every land I have travelled,
every place has one similar custom: if a child that has the talent to be a Mage
becomes a dreamer, he or she must be put to death.”

“In God’s name why?”  Asked Christine.  “Haven’t they gone through
enough?”

Maeve sighed, exasperated.  “Because, Christine, a Mage has the power to
change the world around him or her - just by desiring to do so.  A dreamer
cannot tell Dream from Reality - and a Mageborn dreamer who dreamt of say a
campfire, might ignite a fire that would burn an entire house down.  And a
Mageborn Dreamer who had a nightmare they couldn’t wake up from - a nightmare
that never, ever ended - but could inflict that nightmare on the waking world -
what then?  They are killed to protect the rest of us.  Whether it
seems a harsh punishment or a gentle mercy depends on the circumstances of
where you are when it happens.”  She looked at Christine, with mixed anger
and melancholy.  “All the Dreamers at the House of Broken Dreams are Mageborn
- and that is where the Priest Vargas comes in.”

“Vargas Elm is to the public an upstanding Priest of Isundal - but he revealed
to me when he summoned the demon to kill Eric and I, that he was a wearer of the
Black Ring - an order of fanatic worshippers of Hrask, the God of Dragons and
Magic.  Not only is he a priest, capable of wielding Hrask’s unholy
powers, but he is also a highly skilled sorcerer.   Even if he
couldn’t trump up charges to have us arrested - which he could - we would be in
dire straits, because virtually any citizen would do whatever he asked, in the
name of the Faith, not knowing they served his evil purposes.  Our only
protection at this point is that he may not suspect we still live, or know we
are here, in Mercia.”

“Why me?” Eric asked.  “You said he was looking for a bridge or anchor,
and there was some girl involved?  What’s going on?”  It felt weird
to Eric, being so calm in what was certainly a screwed up situation.

“I don’t know, Eric.  He seemed to think that girl shared some sort of
link with you - enough for the Demon to find you through the Void.  He
must also have thought you were important enough to send the Demon
after...  I don’t know if that means anything - but to me it means we have
to keep you away from him, by any means possible.  Whatever is going on in
the House of Broken Dreams, it involves unholy magic and blasphemy, at the
least - and possibly worse.”

“So now what?”  Eric asked.

“I was hoping to ask Kai his opinion.  Our options are simple.  The
first is he and I steal into the House of Broken Dreams and kill every last
Dreamer while the staff of the place sleeps - both as a mercy, and to stop
whatever plot Vargas and his lapdogs are planning - and then we all retreat
South to Wethom and then Arathel and hope we outrun Vargas’s men until we can
consult with wiser heads than mine - like the Council of Bishops in
Arathel.   Our second option is we simply flee, and pray to the Gods
that Vargas cannot duplicate his feat like with Eric, or that he doesn’t find
what he seeks.  I don’t put much faith in prayers, at the moment.”

“What do you think will happen, then?”  Christine asked, in a
whisper.  “Will he try to catch us all?”

“No - if he catches us, he’ll simply kill Kai and I - you two he’d probably
keep.  Eric for the obvious reason that he believes Eric has something he
wants - and you because you would be leverage to coerce Eric to do as he says.
You’d probably wish he hadn’t caught you, if it comes to that.”

“So, do you know why he wants Eric?”

“Yes and No.”  Maeve answered.  “At the moment all I have are
questions, which is a position I hate to be in.  He’s looking for a
goddess that left Mercia before we began to record time – Hrask’s mate,
Tiamat.  All I know for sure is that Eric showed unusual potential for
sorcery last night, by bringing us here.  In fact, I’ve never even heard
of someone who could do what he did once, let alone twice.  I’m a sorcerer
of sorts myself, and from everything I’ve ever heard, learning to travel the
Void is the most foolish and dangerous thing you can do, aside from summoning
Demons.”

“Um...  I think I’ve heard of Tiamat.”  Eric said.  “She was a
Babylonian goddess that was killed by Marduk, the god of the city.  Half
her body became the heavens, and half her body became the Earth.”

“How the hell did you know that?”  Christine asked.

“Um... The History Channel?  I was really into world mythology when I was
... before I got sick.”  Eric didn’t really know what else to
say.   Eric’s wristwatch declared it was noon - although the real
time looked like late morning.  The three had nothing else to say for the
moment, and Eric stopped his watch from beeping.  Christine took a slug of
water, and Eric a long draught - and then they capped the water bottle and
moved on.

*
*          *

Vargas Elm woke to feel intense pain.  As he struggled to get his senses
about himself, soothing hands with cool cloths dabbed his forehead.  He
opened his eyes to see Lady Awai, looking as if she had aged thirty years
overnight, humming a small chant and watching him with care.   Lady
Awai was the High Priestess of Lady Delirium... she was also his
lover.   He was in his chamber in the House of Broken Dreams -
someone must have found him, and brought him here, he realized.

“Are you well, Your Grace... Vargas?”  Lady Awai’s voice was tinged with
care as well as worry.  In the several weeks he had been here, supervising
their special project, she and he had grown intimate, and close.  He felt
her hands put down the cloth, and one caress his cheek out of concern.

He felt tired, old and weak.  “Mirror... I need a mirror.”   As
he spoke, Vargas pushed the heavy duvet off himself, and struggled weakly to a
sitting position.   His vision swam and blurred as if he was dizzy,
and the room seemed to swim as he regained his bearings.  As he calmed his
senses, Awai returned to his side with a silvered hand mirror, and a goblet of
what looked to be wine.  She set the wine down on the table next to the
bed, and helped steady Vargas as he took the mirror from her hand.

He looked into the mirror and was shocked to see an old man looking back at
him.  Vargas gasped in shock as Lady Awai placed her arm around him for
strength.  The day before he had looked a man of about thirty years, with
thick black hair and a sculpted mustache, strong features and a vibrancy that
lingered about him - an aura of power.  In the mirror was a man of fifty
years or more, with wispy white hair, what remained of it.  The image had
watery blue eyes that were slowly giving in to the aging he had suffered from
the Demon feeding from him - and the aura of power, well it was almost gone,
like so much smoke in the wind.   The demon took much, Vargas
thought with regret.  Much that will take years to recover.

Mistress Awai hugged him as Vargas recovered from his shock.  “The demon
fed on us both, my love - but it left us alive... and while you are alive,
there is a chance that all that was taken from us can be regained.”
She spoke the truth - if She and Vargas were successful, enjoying the fruits of
eternal youth would be but one of their rewards.   He nodded, and
hugged her close as well, and some time passed as the two sat there silently,
looking in the hand-mirror at what had become of them, Ringbearer and
Priestess.

As Mistress Awai tried to salve what she thought was his broken ego, Vargas’s
mind whirled over the Demon’s last words to him, before he blacked
out.   The demon had failed to find the link - because when it
arrived to seize the Anchor, the demon’s target left - somehow fleeing his
world into the Void... which meant he might still be alive!   Worried
thoughts battered Vargas as he pondered the implications.  To flee into
the Void meant the young man must have significant magical power - and perhaps
training in using that power.   It also meant he was probably alive,
somewhere - but it would be virtually impossible to track him... unless his
link with the Valdan dreamer was still active, still unbroken.   I
can still find him!   Vargas tried to stand, and although he was
weaker, and more aged than before, he was neither frail nor withered with age
yet.

“Awai - we can still turn this setback into a victory.  Fetch the Valdan
girl we used in the ritual last night - she is the key to tracking the man who
holds the secrets we need.”  Vargas moved over to a table where a pitcher
of water and a towel lay, to clean himself from the evening before.
“I need to Delve her, and the sooner I begin, the sooner the plans of my Order
- and your Mistress can be accomplished.”

Mistress Awai rose from the bed, a look of predatory anticipation in her eyes,
along with what looked like admiration for the Bishop, for his fortitude, for
his conviction to succeed, even though success would mean the destruction their
world.  She admired his madness - in it she saw the mirror to her own
insanity, and together who knew what they could accomplish?   “It
will be done, my love.”  She left the chamber, calling out orders for food
and drink to be brought to the heretical priest, and then went in search of the
Valdan girl they had used the night before.

As Awai left the room barking orders, Vargas wondered what would become of them
both - now both prematurely aged, both she and he might tire of each other, for
gods knew their attraction had been as much a physical one as it had been an
attraction to each others mutual power.   It would be difficult, when
and if it came time to decide, but he knew he could and would make that
decision when it was needed.  He served his Order first and foremost, body
and soul.  Only after that consideration was met, could he make his own
choices.

An hour later, fed and much refreshed, Vargas and Mistress Awai entered the
small room off the dormitory where the mageborn dreamers were kept.
The Valdan girl - young woman would be more accurate - was on a small bed,
dressed in a white shift, and covered with a grey wool blanket.  The only
indication she was alive was her shallow breathing, and the occasional soft
murmur of speech that would escape her lips.   Mistress Awai turned
and locked the door to the small chamber, and pulled the drapes.  Then she
and the Hserinyar sat in carved wooden chairs next to the Dreamer’s bed.

They joined hands, and while Awai calmed the Dreamer with her magics and the
power of her Goddess, Vargas entered his Nairya and Delved into the girls
mind.   Normally, delving into the mind of a mageborn dreamer was
impossible at worst and dangerous at best, but after last night this seemed a
trivial risk indeed.   He felt his consciousness build within her
empty mind - it was if the tableau of her mind had been wiped clean, leaving a
blank slate.  It was odd seeing a mind so devoid of anything except instinct.
“Awai, I’m in, and ready to begin the search.”

“Excellent my love.  Her mind is calm for the moment, but I think you
should hurry - with the other Dreamers nearby, my control over her may last
only a short time.”

He nodded to himself, and dove deeper into the empty
spaces of her mind...expanding his senses into hers until he began to sense
what she did... from the smell of the room, to the warmth and scratchiness of
the wool blanket.  Still, this wasn’t what he searched for - he needed to
go deeper.  “I need to go deeper, Awai - it may take some time.”  He
vaguely heard her answer, and continued his search.  The search was
tedious, and time consuming, but eventually he found a tiny thread - a
connection to another mind, deep within the core of her being.   He
examined the thread slowly - the link between this Dreamer and her
Anchor.  By the Twelve Divines! He thought to himself.  The link
between this Dreamer and her Anchor was like iron - it was strong - very strong,
so much so that it may be only the death of one of them would sever it.

“Your Grace!”  He heard distantly.  “Vargas!  Hear me!  The
Dreamers are beginning to break free - you must hurry or I may not be able to
keep the way open!”   Damn!  He thought.  I
didn’t even notice it either.  You’re getting weak, old man - and
stupid.  HURRY!   He focussed his power on the link between
the two and suddenly he had it...  he saw Maeve, the spy talking to
whomever the Anchor was... and he saw a river in a forest - a river he and
Mistress Awai had travelled more than once in summer days.  He pulled
himself from the girls mind - she was babbling in some strange tongue he
couldn’t recognize - the one she usually babbled in from Mistress Awai’s
reactions to her chatter.

“Did you find anything, my love?”

“Yes - they are near the Laneor River, south and west of the House of Broken
Dreams - both the Anchor and the Askelinian spy, Maeve!”   Vargas
strode to the door, and hurled it open, its lock falling open even before he
touched it.  As the Hserinyar priest moved into the hall, he called out
with new strength.  They were close!  By the twelve, they were
close and they have come here!   “Send word to my riders!” he
commanded, staff of the house scattering before him.  “I want those people
captured and brought here by nightfall tomorrow or heads will roll!”

Mistress Awai followed him into the hall.  “Milord, I will have my
acolytes begin searching the woods around the House - and then, when your
riders have received word from you?”

“They will hunt them down like dogs, and bring them here to me - no, to
us.”   The two clasped hands, and laughed, their mirth lifting itself
into the noonday sky.  Vargas laughed again.  Finally, after fifteen
years of serving his Order, after the disaster of last night with the Demon,
something was finally going right - so right that the world would soon shake at
the mention of their name.  Vargas Elm and Awai Amandeia would be the man
and woman who returned Lost Tiamat to her mate, the great wyrm god
Hrask.   Whether they would gain physical immortality or not, his
name - and hers - would resound in the annals of history and legend from now
until eternity.  It was a pleasant madness, and he shared it with Mistress
Awai, who savoured its taste, mixing it with her own.

*
*          *

Eric wasn’t sure what direction they were hiking now - Maeve claimed it was
north-west - although he supposed it didn’t really matter when you don’t know
where you are, or where you’re going. They had been walking steadily for what
his watch said had been three more hours, and he was tired, cold, and more than
a little scared.   Christine didn’t look much better... She was
dressed in local clothes, which made her look like an escapee from a
Renaissance Fair, but he supposed that was normal and what HE was wearing would
look odd here.  I guess I’d better get used to it... There’s no way to
tell how long we’ll have to be here.

Eric tried to keep hiking and not thinking about what had happened, until the
shock of it all could wear off.  They had spent the morning hiking north
along a river through various small forests Maeve insisted on calling
‘thickets’, and Christine looked like she might be limping - the boots she was
wearing were probably bothering her.   Suddenly, he slipped in the
snow and tripped, falling against one of the not-pine’s bark and scratching his
hand.   “Ouch!  Crap!”  He called, and paused while sucking
the small scratches.

Maeve was there in an instant.  “What’s wrong - are you alright?”
Then, she took note of Eric’s hand, and looked annoyed.  “Be careful, Eric
- if we’re not careful, an outburst like that could get us all captured, if the
Bishop has men searching these woods.”

“Well, if we’re all going to pick on Eric for a minute...” began Christine, as
she limped her way up to Eric and Maeve.  “...do you mind if I have a
quick rest to check my feet - I think I have seven different kinds of blisters
by now, and I can barely walk.”

Eric shrugged and said humorously “Thanks Traitor!”

Christine’s “You’re welcome.” was drowned out by Maeve’s angry hiss.  “You
think this is a joke?  Do either of you have ANY idea of what will happen
to all of us if we are caught?  I will be killed - and you, you will both
pray for death, and thank it when it comes.   That is the kind of
people we are running from - do you understand?”

Christine stood there a moment, taking the verbal lashing until something gave
and she exploded.   “Yeah we understand!  We understand that
some magical freak from your world sent a Demon to our world to either kill or
kidnap Eric and we both ended up here by bad luck.  I understand that you
say these people are evil, and they want to kill us - but you know what?
You can only live with fearing death for so long - and Eric and I are just
about out of adrenaline and fear for the moment.  We’re totally alone here
except for you, and we have no idea what’s going to happen to us or if we’re
ever going to get back home, so cut us some fucking slack, okay?”

Maeve looked at Christine - and from the expression on her face it was obvious
Maeve hadn’t expected Christine to have that much fire in her.  About
bloody time people started taking me seriously here, thought
Christine.  “I’m resting for a minute, Eric’s staying with me, and if you
want to take Eric to your camp, you’ll have to wait too.”

Maeve nodded slowly... It seemed Christine, who she had nicknamed The scared rabbit
was more a tiny bobcat - timid at first, but all claws and teeth once she got
her feet under her.  “Alright then, Christine.  We’ll take a rest -
and I’ll check your feet for blisters - you have been having trouble... but I
want a few things in return.”  Maeve removed her pack and came over to
examine Christine’s feet.

“Such as?”  Christine asked.

“I want us to travel as swiftly as we can, as quietly as we can.  I don’t
want you to leave any signs we’ve been here unless we have no choice, and if we
encounter anyone, I want you to both follow my lead or we could all end up
dead.”

Christine thought on that; Maeve might a Class-A Bitch, but she wasn’t stupid
either, and Christine had to admit she knew the world they were in, and
potentially how to bring them to some form of safety.  And that was a
lot.   “Alright.”  She said. “I’ll stop freaking out, and we’ll
do as you ask - just give us some time to adjust.  We come from a world
that is extremely different to yours, and Eric and I are both having a lot of
problems adjusting.  I know we don’t have tons of time to adjust in, but
we need what we have - or the next time something outside our experience
happens, we’ll probably both freak out and be generally useless to you and
ourselves.”

Maeve looked at both her and Eric.  “Fair enough.  Let’s have a look
at those feet.”   She knelt in the snow, and helped pull off
Christine’s boots.  It didn’t take a doctor to see her blisters had burst,
and some were fairly bad.   “Your feet are pretty bad - I need to
apply some ointment to them, or by tomorrow morning you won’t be able to walk
on them.”  After digging in her pack a moment, she found what she was
looking for - a small stone jar about 3 inches across and 2 inches high.

Maeve unscrewed the lid of the jar as Christine watched, and showed her a light
green ointment, which she dabbed her fingers into and began slathering on
Christine’s feet.   The ointment wasn’t the green of an infected
wound, but more of what Christine would expect of lime Jell-o.  It even
smelled kind of minty, and when it touched her skin she felt the hot pain of
the blisters vanish in a cool sensation that kind of tingled.  It’s
like mouthwash for your feet, she thought, and then grinned at the silliness
of the comparison.   Still, her feet felt better, and Maeve told her
to get her socks and boots back on.

“What is that stuff?”  Asked Eric, who was watching over Maeve’s shoulder.

“It’s a balm made of Wensin root and Wild Aloe.  Healers use it to promote
healing - it prevents infection and helps wounds heal faster than
normal.”  She began packing the balm away, then stopped and gave the jar
to Christine.  “Since your feet are going to be sore until you break in
those boots, you’ll need this every night when we stop, and maybe at noon when
we break for lunch too, to keep your feet in good shape.”  Maeve tried to
smile - and sort of succeeded.  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a hardcase - I’m
just trying to keep us all alive here.”

Christine tried to smile at Maeve’s attempt at peace-making, and the two
chuckled as Maeve helped Christine up off the ground.   She took a
few steps and her face changed from expecting pain to surprised.  “You
know Eric, if Dr. Scholls ever gets a hold of this Wensin root balm, they’ll
make millions.”

Eric laughed out loud - then quickly hushed himself. “Sorry Maeve!  It was
too funny to hold in - it won’t happen again.”   Then he
smirked.  “...Well it probably will, but I’ll try to keep it down in the future.”

“Alright, enough.”  Maeve said, chuckling.  “We need to get
moving.”  She shouldered her pack, and pointed north west.  “We need
at least another three hours in this direction before we rest again - and hopefully
we’ll find Kai’s camp before nightfall.”   Secretly Maeve was
pleased... She expected Eric to have given up and collapsed an hour ago, he was
so overweight and out of shape - and expected Christine to have a hissy fit
saying she couldn’t go any further...  The fact that both were willing to
keep going either meant they had more backbone than she had given them credit
for, or that they knew they were in too much danger to argue.  Right now
she wasn’t sure which, but was edging towards the former rather than the latter.

Maeve started hiking again, leading the way for Eric and Christine through the
light snow.  Even though they left shallow footprints in the partially
frozen ground, the winds were blowing drifts across their trail almost as fast
as it was made - following them would be difficult at best.

*
*          *

Several hours later, two men in suits of studded leather armour, leading fine
Valdan Wolfhounds hauled in their charges with one hand, and clutched their
spears in the other as their dogs bayed to the rapidly approaching dusk.
Three men on horses who followed the hounds and their masters rode up behind
them and stopped.  All three men wore chainmail armor, and had a shield
and tabard decorated in the colors of Isundal, yellow and red.  Each had a
sword and sturdy dagger strapped to their belts, and crossbows were dangling
from their saddlehorns.

“Any word on the fugitives, Huntsman?”  Said their leader, his mailed hand
rising as he called the mounted men to a halt.   Sir Andred, the
leader of this particular hunting party had been in the saddle all day at the
behest of His Grace, the Bishop of Ogden, and was eager to be the one whose
band caught these fugitives...  In addition to the reward the Bishop
offered, he was sure to receive a promotion - lands and perhaps a high rank in
the army, if he succeeded - and that was worth more to him in the long run than
reward money - although that would be nice too.

“We lost their trail a few times, Sir.”  One of the huntsmen said.
“But I think the dogs have caught their scent now.  They tried to hide
their trail, but its obvious at least some of them have no idea how to be
stealthy at all.”   The two huntsmen pointed to a small snowdrift
which looked like any other of the snowdrifts they had passed today, except the
dogs scented something about it and bayed wildly.  “Here - I think they’ve
been here.”   The huntsman brushed some snow away from the bushes and
a nearby tree, and his hand came away with red on it - frozen
blood.

Sir Andred smiled in anticipation.  “Good - continue the hunt.”  He
and his men waited for the hounds, and followed patiently.  They could
cover more ground than men and women on foot, and they would require rest
sooner rather than later.  He could afford to wait a little bit longer -
but hopefully before the night was out, this hunt would be over.

Chapter 10 - Kai

It was close to dusk when Maeve and the others found Kai’s camp.  One
moment they were trudging through ankle-deep snow, shivering in the chill wind,
and the next they heard a man’s voice call quietly from behind what appeared to
be two large boulders and a small stand of trees.

“Truth is a three-edged sword...”  The voice was strong and deep,
confident but with an undertone of worry and concern.

“And makes for a very fine truncheon.”  Answered Maeve.   It was
their little code they used to tell each other if something was wrong, if
trouble was about to rain down upon them.  If it had, her answer to the
common homily would have been very different to the one she gave.
“Kai, is that you?”

“Aye.”  With that, a man in his early twenties, dressed in studded leather
armor and wearing fine leather clothes stepped out from where his camp lay
hidden.  It was very well hidden from view - indeed, had Kai not hailed
Maeve first, they would likely have passed it by unawares.   He had
shoulder length sandy blonde hair and light stubble on his chin, a muscular
build, and a long scar on the left side of his neck, going from below his ear
to below his neckline, the rest of the scar concealed by his studded leather
armor.   He also wore a sword on one hip.   “You brought
company - what went wrong?”

“Just about everything possible.  His Grace, Bishop Vargas Elm is actually
a Hserinyar - and a wearer of the Black Ring.   All the dreamers in
the House of Broken Dreams are mageborn - and Vargas is using them to try and
find Hrask’s lost mate - and may succeed if we don’t stop him.  On top of
that these two are from another world in the Void, and may hold the key to
stopping what we both know will be a disaster if Vargas succeeds.”

Kai just stood there, in mute shock.   While the young warrior tried
to come to grips with the enormity of what Maeve just said, Christine stepped
up and offered her hand.  “Hi!  I’m Christine, and this is
Eric.  You must be Kai Rodin?”  Christine looked him up and down.
He’s sort of handsome, in a way - if you like your men to be unwashed sweaty
woodsmen.   Not that she was in the market - the last thing on her
mind was a relationship with a stranger from another world.

The young man blinked, and took Christine’s hand.  “She’s been talking
about me again?  Good things I hope... and well met, Christine.  And
to your friend Eric as well.  Please, call me Kai.”   Kai’s
hands felt rough and calloused on Christine’s, like he was used to physical
labor - or perhaps using that blade, and he smelled strongly of woodsmoke, and
faintly of pine.

Eric stared a moment, feeling his cheeks go pink.   He’s pretty
handsome.  Eric thought, then nodded to Kai.  “It’s....it’s good
to meet you, Kai.  Maeve has saved my life at least twice - if there’s
anything I can do to repay that, I promise I will.  And as for your other
question, she hasn’t told us much at all, other than you’re a hunter and a
tracker - and that you’re good friends.”  Eric also gave Kai a long look
over, trying to gauge how the man Maeve had brought them to would react to
them.  It was hard to pull his eyes away from Kai’s face for some reason;
Eric couldn’t tell if it was Kai’s long scar, or his deep blue eyes - eyes that
like his, had seen too much.  For some reason he felt like he could fall
into those eyes, and lose himself if he tried.

Kai broke the gaze first, and turned away.  “Maeve, Eric, Christine,
please come with me - my camp is over here and we need to have you three rest,
and talk.  I need to know what’s going on.”  He walked to a hidden
niche between the boulders, and lifted what looked to be a pine-bough to reveal
a small cubby hole protected from the wind, with the remains of a small fire
within.  What looked to be a short recurved bow made of laminated wood and
horn was inside, next to a pile of wooden sticks, feathers and metal
arrowheads.

“Find somewhere comfortable, and then tell me what’s been going on for the last
few days, if you please.”  Kai said, sitting cross-legged near his pile of
arrow-fletchings.   The hunter casually began crafting arrows from
his materials as Maeve told her tale, including what she knew of Eric and
Christine’s part in the last few days drama.

During the tale, Christine took some time to apply more Wensin root balm to her
aching feet, and Eric rested, letting his thoughts drift for a moment, both
revelling in the fact he was not hearing any voices, and being stricken with
panic because of it.   Indeed, he felt as if he was both physically
and mentally numb from the recent ordeals he and the others had been
through.   Some of the numbness was wearing off, being replaced with
mild panic - but for now he could deal with it.

“... and then we re-appeared from the Void near a house outside Ogden
town.  I got some clothes and food from the people there, and we fled
north to your camp.  What we need to do now is decide what the next step
is - and I wanted your opinion, since I might not - no, probably won’t - be
able to do this without your help.  No offence to you and Eric, Christine,
but neither of you looks like you can handle yourselves in a serious fight if
needed.”

Christine nodded at Maeve.  “I’ve never been in a fight before - not like
you mean.”  Then she turned to Eric.  “Did all of what Maeve said
happened at the Neilson Clinic actually happen, Eric?”   She looked
dismayed - and she wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment for originally thinking
Maeve and Eric were crazy or liars - or if she was dismayed because she
believed them.

“Yeah” said Eric.  “Everything Maeve said she saw at the clinic onward
actually happened.”  Eric looked like he didn’t believe all of it
himself.  “I wish I could say she was lying, but I know what I saw, and I
do not for a second believe it was simply a hallucination.   All I
know is that IF we ever get home, you can bet we’ll be ‘persons of interest’ to
the police at the very least - and at worst, well use your imagination...”

Christine was about to respond to Eric’s comment when Maeve interrupted.
“Christine, Eric, I know you both want to go home - and I promise that if you
help me do what I need to do, I’ll do everything in my power to see that Eric
gets the training he needs to take you home safely - but if you try now, not only
will Eric probably not survive even if you should reach your home, you both
would still be targets for Vargas if he summons other demons.”

“Why would I nearly die, Maeve?”  Eric asked.  “I did it twice and I
felt bad - beaten up and sore, but not hurt.”   Eric looked like he
didn’t understand - and Maeve knew she needed to tell him why, so that he
wouldn’t risk it until he was ready.

Maeve gave a heavy sigh.  “When a person uses magic, they channel raw
energy from the Void to fuel it.   However, Void energy is incredibly
toxic - deadly to anything other than a creature of pure magic - and so we use
mental disciplines we call Words, which help us focus that energy, and filter
out the harmful effects of the Void, while allowing us to cast spells.”
Maeve took a breath, and continued.  “If you channel Void energy without
using a Word, you get stricken by the toxic effects of the Void’s energies -
which we call being ‘Kissed by the Void’.   Do it too much, or with
even a single powerful spell, and you can be hurt badly, and even die.
That is what happened to you when you brought all of us here to Mercia,
Eric.  The only reason you are not crippled or dead is that Anvi is an
excellent healer, and used potent magics to heal your injuries shortly after we
arrived.”

“So,” said Eric.  “If I were to try going back to Earth now, without
knowing the right Word to channel this Void energy, I would be hurt?  Is
that what you mean?”

“In a nutshell, yes - you might even die, or worse - not make it, and trap both
you and Christine in the Void until the demons found you.  Even if you did
succeed and arrive on earth, you would be badly hurt - and If what you say is
true - that the people on your world know nothing of magic, their medicines
would probably not help you heal your injuries properly, if at all.  You
might die, lose your talents altogether, or go mad.   And then
there’s the Call.”

“You mentioned that before - I think to Anvi.” said Christine.  “What is
the Call?”

“That’s a harder question to answer.”  Maeve said.  “Dragons are the
lifeblood of magic - where there is magic, dragons live and
breathe.   Hrask is the father of all Dragons, one half of the
progenitors of their race - and the god of all magic on Mercia.  Every
sorcerer who uses magic feels deep within them the taint of his greed, avarice,
and pride.  The more we use magic, the stronger those feelings get until
eventually, if we cannot resist them, we embrace those ideals entirely and
become one of the Fallen, and transform into a lizard-human hybrid that better
suits Hrasks ideals.   Thus training in sorcery also involves
learning mental techniques to resist the Call of Hrask, and to realize where
the boundaries of one’s self begin and end, and where the feral, primal
impulses of the Call exist outside those barriers.   If we channel
too much magic, too frequently, the call becomes stronger, to the point where
it is difficult or impossible to resist.  When that happens a sorcerer can
go temporarily insane and act against his own beliefs, and even kill those he
cares for.   We call the point where it is no longer safe for us to
use magic our Threshold, which differs for every mage based on talent and
training.  If we go over our Threshold, we do so at great personal risk
not only to those we love, but also risk losing ourselves - our souls - to the
power and malice of Hrask.”

Eric looked more than a little confused.  “So if all magic comes from
Hrask, and Hrask is evil - or at least totally inhuman and corrupt, does that
make mages and magic evil?”   Maybe being able to cast spells Isn’t
going to be as cool as I thought it was, thought Eric.

Kai looked up from his arrow-crafting.  “Hardly, Eric.  Does a fire
that burns down a house have any more malice than a fire that warms a cold body
in a winter storm?  Does the water that soothes a parched throat have less
malice that the water that drowns an unfortunate sailor?  No - it is the
intent behind the use of the power that determines its morality.  Most
people can see that logic, but a few distrust sorcerers anyway because they
cannot see past their bias.  As you said, some believe that if Dragons are
evil, and magic comes from Dragons, then magic must be evil.”

“Luckily, most sane people in Valris are of the former belief - that the
morality of the magic is in its use.  I’m sorry I cannot say the same of
all human countries.”  Maeve said.   She paused.  “However,
I think that is a discussion for another time - it is too deep an issue to
discuss around a cold campfire - and Kai and I must make a decision about what
to do, quickly.”  Indeed, while they had been talking, full night had
fallen.   Eric and Christine stared up at the unfamiliar stars above,
dazzled by their beauty - an entire lifetime of light pollution in Toronto made
such sights rare indeed, even if the stars above them were foreign.

*
*          *

Sir Andred shifted in his saddle slightly, stiff after a full day in the stiff
leather seat.   He liked the hunt - and the stiff leather kept him
from becoming too comfortable - too complacent.   His men knew him to
be canny and alert - and he punished any of his troops who became lax in their
duties or did not perform their due diligence - and they appreciated him for
it, for they always knew where they stood with him.  Ah, he
thought.  The joys of leadership.  Too bad I have to have the
responsibility of telling their families when my men fall in the course of duty
- if there was anything I could avoid about leadership, it would be that.
“Have the hounds picked up their scent?”

“Aye, milord - they are camped but a mile from here, in a copse of trees and
boulders, with no fire.  There are at least three of them - maybe four,
and they seem to be just resting and talking.   We kept the dogs back
so they would not alert them - but I doubt they will not be noticed for much
longer.  Shall we approach?”

Andred nodded.  “Send Carmichael and Tarren around their flanks on
horseback, and have them take them from behind when needed - you and the rest
of the huntsmen will be with me, and we will approach from the front.
Let’s see these fugitives escape this trap!”   At last!
He thought to himself.  This may be my best chance to advance in
years.  Don’t blow it, Andred.  Don’t blow it.

*
*          *

Kai placed his tools down and leaned forward, all serious now that Maeve had
finally gotten to the point.  “What do you see as our viable options,
Maeve?   As far as I can see it we can either attempt to sneak in and
kill all the dreamers so they cannot be used for Vargas’s purposes, we can try
to flee south to Arathel and warn the council of Bishops Vargas seeks Hrasks
lost mate, or we can split up and attempt to do both.  I don’t
particularly like the last option.”

Maeve nodded “Agreed.”  The thought of her going back to the House of
Broken Dreams was not a pleasant one, and the thought of letting Eric out of
her sight was not particularly appealing either, since everything Vargas had
planned seemed to revolve either around Eric or that Valdan
Dreamer.   Kai was certainly not going to abandon her to ferry
Christine back to Arathel, so that left only two viable options.  “Either
we leave these two here, at your camp, and we go back alone to deal with the
dreamers - or we go back to deal with the dreamers, and take them with us.”

“Umm.”  Said Christine, sounding rather annoyed.  “Don’t we get a say
in this?”

“No!”  Maeve and Kai said, virtually together - then looked at each other
and smiled.  They had worked together for so many missions you could tell
their easy camaraderie was from long friendship.  Such well timed
outbursts were not rare between the two.   Kai continued.  “We
can’t take you with us - you have no skill at stealth, and less in fighting -
and I don’t think you’ll have the stomach for what we must do once we get there.
It would be best if you stayed here at my camp, hidden.”

Before any of the others could respond, there was a hiss - and a crossbow bolt
passed between Maeve’s and Kai’s faces to plant itself in a tree behind them,
the bolt passing so close to Kai’s head his ear dripped a few drops of blood
from where the feathers of the bolt cut it.   Kai’s hand went for his
bow, and Maeve’s to sword.  Eric and Christine looked stunned and
surprised, gawking at the still quivering bolt, which had sunk a good 4-5
inches into the tree trunk behind their allies heads.

A mans voice called out - strong and clear.  “I am Sir Andred Duchesne,
Knight and Justice for the Courts of Justice of Orvan province.  Maeve
Varda - and anyone harboring her - are considered fugitives from the law, at
the order of His Grace, Bishop Vargas Elm, and as such will be treated as
criminals unless they denounce her and surrender at once.   I know
you are near - my dogs led me to you.  If you surrender to the court’s
mercy, I will allow anyone with you to go free.  Otherwise I will release
my hounds and take you all back in chains.  You have one minute to
decide.”

Maeve looked grim as she said “You know, my friend, they’re probably just
normal people, thinking they’re doing their duty.  If we kill them - and
we will have to kill them - we’re killing our own.”

Kai looked equally grim.  “Is there any other choice - beyond me handing
all three of you over?   We have no other options - and may the
Goddess have mercy on our souls - you know what will happen if they take us.”

Eric could tell a battle was imminent, and dug his hand first into his right
pocket and then his left, his face growing fearful with panic.  “The
gun!  Christine - my gun is gone!  I can’t find it!”   What
disturbed Eric almost as much as the firearm being gone was also that his
pockets held neither of the two spare clips of ammunition he had taken from the
dead police officer.

“What?”  Christine’s harsh whisper of panic was audible and showed her
fright.  “How?”

“I don’t know!”  Eric looked frightened as well, the thought of facing
several mounted knights as well as trained dogs and men at arms with only a
knife seemed suicidal, at the least.  “I had it when I was in the Void -
but after we got here and I passed out, I don’t know...”

Kai called out “Ready yourselves, and be silent a moment.  Maeve and I
need to listen.”

Maeve and Kai could now hear the panting of the dogs, just near the limits of their
hearing - and the sound of crunching feet approaching in the snow from several
directions.   Avoiding a  confrontation was impossible, and they
each gestured with their hands how many men they thought they heard
approaching, and from which directions.  Kai whispered “Keep low - keep
hidden.  If you have to fight, fight to win, not wound.  Let Maeve
and I deal with as much as we can - we cannot let you be taken prisoner.”

Christine and Eric nodded, almost in a panic, and crouched with their hands on
the knives Anvi had given them.  Christine’s mind was a mix of fear, panic
and desperation and a desire for flight from the situation.  Eric, on the
other hand, palmed the knife like he would have held his purple
toothbrush-shiv, and prepared to defend himself.  Just think of them as
bullies.  He thought.  Bullies with swords, bows and armor.
Yeah, right.

At that point Kai stood, still hidden from view by a boulder, and in one swift
action knocked an arrow to his bow, aimed and released.   The arrow
whizzed through the still night air, until it struck its target - one of the
Huntsman’s hounds, square in the throat.  The dog yelped, and dropped
instantly, spreading its lifesblood on the snow covered ground.  “We’ve
decided!”  He yelled, and knocked another arrow.

With a yell of rage, Sir Andred spurred his horse and his other knights did the
same, while one of the houndsmen released the last wolfhound, and the other moaned
and cradled his dog in his arms as its life bled from the arrow wound in its
neck.   They both stood, and pulled short hafted axes from their
belt, eager to see justice done.

Christine yelped in fear, and hid behind a fallen log, looking vainly for
better cover or someplace to hide.  Eric moved to stand near Kai, on the
other side of the boulder, holding his knife at the ready.  Maeve moved to
the far end of the camp, nearest to where the other people were approaching,
and concealed herself near a thick tree.

The two knights approaching from the rear were the first to arrive - the jingle
of their mail shirts and the clank of their gear and weapons gave them
away.   With swords drawn, they entered the sheltered campsite - and
Maeve silently launched herself at the one closest to her, catching him by
surprise and slamming her borrowed shortsword to the hilt into the knights
torso - just catching the sweet spot where the mail shirt didn’t cover the area
under his armpit.  Maeve gave the blade a quick twist, and yanked it free
- blood sprayed over her and the dying knight, who crumpled with only a groan
as he fell to the ground, dead.

The other knight moved to avenge his fallen brother.  “Dark Lord take you,
murderer!”  He screamed as he attacked.  “He was worth a hundred of
you!”  The blow was skilled, but Maeve was canny and dodged at just the
right time, else her head would have been separated from her shoulders.
The knight was strong, tough - and it wasn’t his fault he didn’t realize he was
working for the wrong people.  And Maeve knew it didn’t matter - whether
he felt righteous anger or that he was on the side of justice.  Maeve’s
information had to get to Arathel, and Eric could not be captured - if that
meant these men had to die, it was a sad and unfortunate coincidence.

Another arrow launched from Kai’s shortbow, taking a houndsman in the chest,
the long arrow’s shaft easily penetrating his thin leather jerkin.  Kai
tried to calm his mind and guilt simply by counting.  Two down means
one hound and one master, one knight.  Maeve will have the rest.
Don’t think - just react.

Meanwhile, the first hound leapt into the campsite - and Eric struck with the
knife.  Eric was loathe to harm animals - except perhaps rats - but this
wasn’t exactly a friendly puppy, and these weren’t exactly ideal
circumstances.  The dog yelped, bleeding as the knife came away red, and
it turned and tried to bite.  Eric dodged as best he could, but the hound
was well trained, and he felt powerful teeth bite into his lower leg and rip
his pants and leg open just above the lip of his Doc Martens.   He
screamed in pain, and struck again, planting the knife deep in its neck, right
where the spine met the base of the skull.  The dog yelped in pain, and
dropped still and unmoving, its teeth still locked onto Eric’s bleeding leg.

Christine looked at the carnage being wrought in the campsite before her in
shock.  Eric killed that dog!  She thought - and looked at her
knife.  I can’t do that... I can’t.   She sheathed her
knife and grabbed her small vial of pepperspray from her pocket, unsure of what
to do next.   The other knight and Maeve were dancing around the far
side of the campfire, blades ringing against each other while Kai fired arrow
after arrow into the night.  Under normal circumstances, Christine knew
she’d be helplessly gibbering  “This can’t be happening...  This
can’t be happening...” over and over - but the events of the last few days were
enough to convince her this WAS happening, and she had to do something.
Eric and Kai looked okay, so she began to move towards the knight and Maeve.

Andred heard his men join battle, and the hound yelp as it was injured, and
made haste to catch up with his men.  One of his huntsmen went down with
an arrow in his chest and the other was just about upon the archer and whomever
else was in the campsite.  This needs to end, now!  He thought
grimly, brandishing his mace.   As he entered the camp, the huntsman
who’s dog had taken the first arrow had engaged the archer with his short axe,
and the archer had dropped his bow for a shortsword in turn.  Across the
clearing was a young man - probably a servant boy - whose leg had been badly
mauled by one of his hounds.  Good, he thought.  He won’t
be running very far on that leg.

He circled around, and came up behind the archer, whose back was mostly against
a large boulder.   The archer obviously noticed him, but was equally
obviously having a hard time dividing his attention between the both of them
for defending himself.  Excellent.   Andred’s mace came
up - and although the archer tried to parry, Sir Andred blow was only partially
deflected, and his mace struck the man a glancing blow, rather than crushing
his skull like a melon.  The archer dropped, going down like a sack of
potatoes.  Bloody potatoes.  “Finish this!”  Andred yelled.

Christine saw Kai go down, and a chill ran down her spine, her gut cold with
fear.  We’re going to die here!  They’re going to take us, and we’ll
be given to whatever called up that demon!   She couldn’t let
that happen.  She steeled herself for a moment and crept closer to Andred,
while motioning for Eric - who was also hanging back - to make for the
forest.  I can’t believe I’m going to do this.   She
thought.   I’m gonna get killed!   Oddly enough, she
felt calm and detached - like she had somehow stuck all her gibbering panic
into a tiny box, and hid that box away.  She wasn’t sure how long that
would last, so she called out  “Hey, Sir Andred,” and raised her
bottle.  Andred turned to deal with Christine and Eric, and walked full
into Christine’s stream of pepper spray.

Maeve heard Kai drop, and groaned in grief and guilt.  Another friend
dead because of me, she thought.  Gritting her teeth, she attacked
frantically, trying to find some way to salvage something - anything - from the
mess she had gotten herself, Kai, Eric and Christine into.   She
caught Christine spraying the Knight leading the hunters with some fluid, and
couldn’t help but grin a little as the knight screamed and clutched his
eyes.  So the rabbit has some tricks, hmmm?  I didn’t know she
carried potions - or was it a venom?  Whatever it was, it didn’t
matter - what matter was survival and escape.  If Eric and Christine
needed a distraction, she would provide it.

Maeve rained another blow across the knights shoulder, trying to penetrate his
guard.  He was good - she expected him to be good - what she didn’t expect
was just how badly she had been weakened and affected by the ordeals she had
been through in the last few days.   As she fought, she saw from the
corner of her eye Christine and Eric running for the woods, and grinned.
At least all of us won’t be caught.  It was enough.  She struck at
the knight again.  Her blow hit, but glanced off his mail shirt, and his
blow - an off-hand strike with his mailed fist - caught her right under the
chin.  The blow snapped her head up, lifted her off the ground, and laid
her out cold at the knights feet.

“This is for Tarren, you murderous wench.” the knight said, kicking Maeve hard
in the stomach.  He saw the other two flee, but his commanding officer was
down and disabled.  “Sir Andred - do we pursue those two?”

As Carmichael turned to assist Andred, he saw the other huntsman trying to wash
the potion from Andred’s eyes with snow from around the campsite.  Andred
was slowly getting better, although his eyes looked red and sore, and it was
obvious he was having trouble seeing.

“Enough!’  Said Andred.  His vision was still blurry, and his eyes
hurt badly - like liquid fire had been poured into them, but even so he could
tell Carmichael’s blood was up.  If he sent him into the woods after those
two, Carmichael would come back with two dead bodies - undoubtably killed while
resisting arrest.  “We’re here to capture them Carmichael, not kill them.”

“They killed Sir Tarren!”

Carmichael’s answer was all Andred needed to know he was right.  “Yes -
and they will be punished for that - once we turn them over to His Grace the
Bishop - until then, they live.  Do you understand me?”

Carmichael looked angry and grim, but nodded.  “Aye.”

“Good.”  Andred washed more snow into his face and eyes, and the burning
pain subsided a little more.  He was seeing double - at least - and
although he wasn’t totally incapacitated, he was certainly feeling the effects
of whatever that liquid fire was.  “The other two - the young man and the
woman who poured this foul stuff into my eyes - are they still here?”

“No - they fled into the woods.”  Carmichael growled

“Leave them then - His Grace mention Maeve Varda specifically.  We have
her, and the other.  The other two aren’t going to get far with one of
them having a mangled leg.  We’ll take these two back to Ogden town, and
set out at first light with more dogs and men and track the other two
down.  If His Grace says he doesn’t need the other two, then once I turn
over our two prisoners you can lead the hunt for the others - and if something
happens while they’re being apprehended, well accidents can happen - correct?”

“Aye.”  This time Carmichael’s grin was not grim - but angry and
eager.

Andred’s eyes still burned, but his vision was clearing a little bit.  He
could see without tears welling up and was only seeing double, but the burning
pain was more than a little significant.  “Help me back to my horse, and
gather the prisoners.  We ride for Ogden town.”

*
*          *

Eric and Christine watched from the woods, hidden from view.  The Valdan
Knight, Andred was being helped to his horse by the huntsman, and the knight -
Carmichael - was tossing the unconscious bodies of Maeve and Kai onto the horse
of the dead knight and tying them down.   If what they had overheard
was correct, soon Maeve and Kai would be taken to jail, and would likely be
given over to this fallen Priest as soon as he could be found.  Christine
was nearly in a panic - and Eric had to admit he was almost in the same
state.

“We need to stay calm, Christine.”  Eric said, feeling like he
should try his own advice, but having little luck.  “Without Maeve and
Kai, we’re flying blind.  We don’t know the land, the customs, or even the
language if we should lose these little amulets.  We need to find a way to
rescue them.”

Christine looked at him like he’d grown a second head.  “Are you insane?”

Eric chuckled.  “You mean more than I am with Schizophrenia?  I
suppose so.  Busting two wanted fugitives out of some jail does sound
crazy - but is it any crazier than trying to take you back through that Void
full of demons, without me having any training?  At least these guys will
only try to kill us.”

“Eric, I mean it!  Are you serious?”   Christine didn’t know
what to believe, but she knew she didn’t want to die in the Void.

“Yeah, I am.  I know you don’t want to be here, and I’m sorry, but Maeve
is the fastest best way for me to learn how to use my talent to get us home -
and if she’s given over to this Bishop Vargas, I lose that chance and we get to
stay here until we get captured or I try to take us home and we get killed in
the Void if I don’t get really, really lucky.”

Christine thought about it for a bit.  Eric’s right.  If we stay
here, they’ll capture us tomorrow - if that knight Carmichael doesn’t kill us
to avenge his friend.  If we go to Ogden town, we’re in no more danger
than we are now - how much more dead can we get?   She looked at
Eric.  “Do you at least have a plan?”

“Yeah - while they’re trussing up Kai and Maeve, we steal one of the horses
that belonged to the men with the dogs, and ride for Ogden - the town near
Anvi’s house.  We’ll be faster than they will, since they’ll have Maeve
and Kai and their own dead, and we’ll just have you and I.”

It might work, she thought.  “What about when we get to town?”

“I’m not sure yet - I’m kind of making this up as we go along.  Give me a
few miles to think and maybe we’ll come up with some ideas.”   Eric
grinned, pleased that Christine was pulling herself together and not panicking,
and was more than a little surprised that he wasn’t panicking either - or
having problems with the Voices.  Maybe Christine was right earlier -
maybe so much has happened in the last day that we’re numb about it.  I
wish I knew.

They crept through the woods, towards where Andred had hailed their camp, and
found a horse wandering loose, obviously spooked from the scent of blood and
noise of battle.   He approached slowly while making calming sounds
and soon the horse allowed him to approach enough to grab the
reins.   A few moments later they were both on the horse, and heading
quickly back to Ogden-town.

As they rode, Eric tried to gauge where they had been - the hunters that had
tracked them had not bothered to hide their trail, so it wasn’t as hard as it
may have been.  The strange sight of Mercia’s three moons also gave ample
light in the night, and so they were able to follow the trail without
difficulty Christine rode behind him, and was shaking - although whether from
fear and shock, or the cold he wasn’t sure.

“Are you okay?  It’s a stupid question, but still...”  Eric asked.

“Yeah... No.  It doesn’t matter - we have to try to save them don’t
we?  So I guess I’d better do my best to grow a pair before we get to
town.”

“I don’t know, Christine.  Spraying Andred in the face with that
pepper-spray was pretty gutsy.  He might have lopped off your head if
you’d missed.”  Eric’s tone told that was both impressed at her bravery,
and worried that she might have been hurt.  “Then again, going toe to toe
with Cujo there was pretty stupid on my part too.”

Christine remembered about the dog bite Eric had taken.  “How’s your leg?”

“Not so great.  I think I took a pretty deep bite, but it doesn’t feel
like its still bleeding.”   Eric looked down at his leg - there was
no new blood, but his pants were torn and his leg looked nicely
chewed.   “I should be fine, as long as I don’t it get infected or
anything.”

Christine shuddered at the thought of what an infection might mean in a
world that did not have antibiotics, but stopped short when she remembered the
Wensin Root balm.  If it helps heal blisters, a dog bite should be a
piece of cake!  At least it won’t do any harm!

“Hold up a moment, Eric.  I need to try something.”

Eric reined in and stopped the horse, and Christine dismounted.  A few
moments and almost all that remained of the Wensin Balm later, Eric’s leg was
slathered with the disinfectant ointment and bound with some makeshift
bandages.  It isn’t perfect, Christine thought. But it’s better
that than nothing.  He should be alright now.

Eric winced as the ointment was put on, but soon its odd soothing sensation
calmed the pain in his leg.  He wondered how it worked - it felt almost
like a topical painkiller mixed with an antiseptic, and a pine scented
air-freshener.  Christine’s right - if we get some of this stuff back
home, we’d make a fortune selling it to an HMO or something.

“It feels pretty good.”  Eric said.

“Great - then we’d better get going.  If we’re going to risk our lives
doing something risky and stupid we might as well get it done before we lose
our nerve.”

“Heh heh.”  Eric chuckled, and gave Christine a hand back into the
saddle.  Once she was seated behind him, he gently nudged the horse into
moving and they were on their way again.   Eric directed the horse
with some skill, the gift of several long summers living on site at a horse
stables in the Kawartha’s, that his father had bought when he was young.
Those years, when his mother was still alive, were some of the best he could
imagine.  Eric shook his head to clear his thoughts.  I’ll deal
with my issues with Dad later, he thought.  It’s time to try
concentrating on the task at hand.  Eric tried not to worry about the
sick feeling of fear he felt in the pit of his stomach for Maeve and
Kai.   Soon, the two of them were riding in the dim light of three
moons, back towards Ogden-town.

Chapter 11 - First Word

Eric and Christine reached Ogden-town a few hours before dawn, and tied up
their stolen horse in a small copse of trees overlooking the approach to the
town’s gates.  The snow had died down, and the temperature felt like it
had dropped about 10 degrees, and a light wind was blowing from the west.
Their little copse of trees protected them from the worst of it, and while Eric
dozed a bit, Christine watched the town gates.

Some plan.  She thought.  Get close to the gates, wait for the
soldiers to arrive with Maeve and Kai, and follow them into town to see where
they’re being held, and then create a distraction and rescue them.  “Just
a little short on details there, Eric.” Christine muttered.  Normally she
would be frightened - but Eric was right; there wasn’t a lot of difference
between dying here in a jailbreak than dying in woods trying to flee to an
unknown location with no guarantee of assistance - and both were preferable to
being caught by this heretic Bishop Vargas.  I guess after a while you
just stop being afraid and deal with things as they come, since there’s no
point in being scared.

As she watched, four horses and three riders emerged from the woods.  The
riders looked weary, and the fourth horse had two or more bodies slung over it
instead of bearing a rider.  Looks like that might be the people we’re
waiting for - I’d better wake Eric.

She shook Eric awake, and whispered “They’re here, Eric.”   Eric
woke, and quietly nodded and moved over to their vantage point to see the group
of them approach the town.

“I had a thought, just before napping Christine.  It might be better if we
don’t follow them in - Andred or his followers might see us if they get lucky,
and then we’d be screwed.  I’ll bet if we ask Anvi he’d know where the
jail is anyway.”

“Maybe - but didn’t Maeve take us away from Anvi’s to protect him?  Why
would you want to put him back into danger?  If we follow them, we only
put our lives on the line - not his and his wife’s as well.”

“Well, yeah.”  Said Eric.  “But there’s another reason too...
Think back to just before we disappeared from your front lawn in Toronto, to
when we woke up in Anvi’s place.  Didn’t I have a handgun and a couple of
spare magazines from cop in the police car?  Unless I dropped them in the
Void, either Maeve found it or Anvi did, and that might give us an edge in
rescuing Maeve and Kai.”

Christine thought back, and realized Eric had a very good chance of being
correct.  “Why didn’t she give us the gun back?”

“Either she didn’t know it was a weapon, and thought it wasn’t
important.”  Eric said, “Or more likely, she knew it was a weapon and
purposely hid it from us, either to pay Anvi for these amulets or to make sure
we were unarmed.  I’m not sure why she would want the second - maybe she
was afraid if I fired it it would make too much noise?”

Christine had a third reason come to mind.  “Maybe she didn’t want us to
be armed so if she had to kill either of us, we couldn’t stop her.”  Christine
looked grim and sour, as if the idea tasted bad to her.  She didn’t fully
trust Maeve, but even she didn’t know if Maeve would kill them to keep Bishop
Vargas from getting them.

Eric started to argue, but stopped.  When they went into battle with the
knights and houndsmen the last thing Kai said was  ‘We cannot let you be
taken prisoner.’  He felt small and cold when he realized what that might
have meant.  “Even so, we don’t have much choice.  They are our only
hope of living long enough to get out of here, and maybe even of getting
home.  No one else has any reason to help us and at least a hundred
reasons to turn us in.  We need to save them - and if they try to harm us,
I’ll have to shoot them - simple as that.”   Simple as that,
he thought.  Ha!   I don’t know if I can shoot them.

Below, the small party of riders had entered the town’s gates, and had
disappeared from view, while several farmers in the valley outside the town had
begun doing chores in and around their homes.  Some children played in the
snow, and they smelled woodsmoke and cooking food over the air.

“Okay - I guess we don’t have much choice.  Once they get inside the town,
they’re probably going to get more soldiers and dogs - so we’d best be to
Anvi’s and into the city as soon as possible.”

“I agree.  Lets go.”

*
*          *

Anvi was cutting wood, and wondering how Maeve and the strangers she arrived
with were doing, when he noticed Eric and Christine approaching - alone - in
the thick winter cloaks he had given them.   He didn’t need a crystal
ball or a magic spell to realize something had gone very wrong.  As they
approached, he gestured for them to join him under the awning covering his
firewood.

“What happened?” he said, quietly.  “What went wrong?  Your leg,
Eric?”

Christine shook her head.  “We were caught about a
day out of town.  A Huntsman named Andred found us - he had dogs and about
four men with him.  We fought, and Maeve and Kai killed two, and the two
dogs - but were knocked out and we were forced to flee.  Eric got bitten
by a dog before killing it.”

“And you came here for safety?  I cannot hide you.  Maeve knew
that.”  Anvi said.

“We didn’t come here for safety,” said Eric.  “We came for my gun - the
weapon removed from my stuff when I was sleeping.”

Anvi looked surprised, then nodded.  “I didn’t expect you would figure it
out.  Did Maeve tell you I had it?”  Something had changed about
these two - when he first met them they were scared, alone - and seemed
vulnerable.  This time it seemed they had been tempered somewhat, stronger
than before - and maybe more dangerous than before too.  His hands
tightened on his axe handle as he struck another piece of kindling from a
stump, the chunk of wood falling off his chopping block.

“No.”  Said Eric.  “We figured that one out on our own - a little too
late to do any good, but still.”

“What do you intend to do if I give it to you?”  Anvi felt tension in the
air - like you feel when a fight is about to break out - a sense of barely
repressed violence.

“I intend to walk into town, figure out where the jail is, and find a way to free
Maeve and Kai, and then leave here as fast as possible.  If I can help it,
Christine and I won’t come back here - we didn’t want to be here now - but you
have my weapon, and I intend to leave with it.”

Anvi knew there was nothing he could do.  Maeve asked me to keep the gun
hidden, for whatever reasons of her own, but surely she never meant for it not
to be used to help her get free?  “You can have the gun, Eric.  I’ll
go get it - and when I get back I’ll take a look at that leg too.  Come on
inside.”

The three went inside.  “Please, sit down - I’ll tell Maria you’re back.”
Anvi said, and went upstairs, after putting his wood axe down at the door.

“Do you think he’ll help us?”  Eric asked Christine.

“Yes.  But I think He’s more than a little conflicted about it.  He
obviously wants to help Maeve, but he seems like he feels he betrayed her by
admitting he has the gun - and he just as obviously doesn’t want us here any
longer than he has to, probably because He’s afraid of the consequences.”

“Great...”  Eric looked unhappy, but had to admit they had little
choice.  The two sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for
Anvi.   They couldn’t help but hear raised voices above them, as Anvi
obviously was trying to explain their presence to his wife Maria.

A few moments later, Maria came downstairs.  She wore a simple brown linen
dress with an embroidered belt and decorated sleeves, and her hair was tied
back - she had obviously just been woken.  “Eric, Christine, welcome back
to my home.  Anvi told me something went wrong.”   Maria was
upset and concerned at the same time - obviously Maeve was a good friend of the
family.

“It did, very.”  Said Eric.  “We need something Maeve left here -
something of mine, so we can help her and her friend Kai.”

“Anvi told me.”  Maria said.  “Would the two of you like some decent
food?  I know you have to leave shortly - but you can at least leave well
fed!”

Eric looked at Christine.  It had been more than fifteen hours since they
ate last.  Christine nodded, and said “Thanks, Maria.”  Eric thanked
her as well, and Christine got up to help Maria in the kitchen.

As Maria and Christine fixed some tea and began breakfast, Anvi came down the stairs.
In one hand was the 9mm handgun Eric had taken from the dead policeman in the
O.P.P. cruiser - and in the other were the two clips of bullets he had stuffed
into his pockets just before the demon had attacked them.   Anvi
looked at it, and then Eric and Christine.  “I didn’t feel good having it
here anyway.”  He said.  “Take it - and I hope it helps you save
Maeve.  She’s been a good friend - she deserves better.”

Eric stood and took the gun, glad he wouldn’t have to take it against Anvi’s will.
“Thanks Anvi.  I’ll make sure she knows why you gave it to me - and that I
forced your hand.”  The heavy weight of the gun made Eric feel a bit more
confident, a bit safer.

“Thank you, young man.  Now let’s have a look at that dog bite.”  Anvi
went to his cabinet of healing supplies and started to dig for bandages and
salves, while Eric put the gun away and sat down so he could pull up his pant
leg to let Anvi check the wound.  Anvi came over, and looked at the wound,
prodding it and checking to see how badly Eric was torn or cut.

“The good news is that it’s not a bad bite.   It may hurt, and look
pretty bad, but no muscles or ligaments were torn as far as I can tell.
Can you walk on it?”  Anvi asked.

“Yeah - it just hurts a lot.  I limp a bit from the pain, although the
Wensin Root balm seemed to help a lot.”

“It would.”  Said Anvi.  “It’s made to be used on wounds, not just
sore feet.”   Anvi cleaned the wound, and applied a cool cloth to
wipe off the dirt, then applied a smooth ointment that stung slightly over the
wound, and re-bandaged it with linen bandages.  “Next time you get into a
fight, try not to get hurt, okay?”

Eric nodded.  “It’s not like I was trying to get bitten this time, Anvi.”

“I know - but I can still ask, right?”  Anvi smiled.  “There - you’re
good to go.”

Eric stood up, and let his pant-leg fall over the dressing.  His leg was
sore, but better than before.  “Thanks Anvi.  Now Christine and I owe
you one too.”

“You can pay me back by eating breakfast and rescuing Maeve and Kyrodin - and
not leading the people responsible for Maeve’s situation to my home, alright?”

“Alright.”  Eric agreed.

Anvi sighed.  “The Jail is down the main street from the gate, on the
corner of Lantern Way and Dove’s Crossing.   There’s a cobbler on one
corner - on the other a bakers.  On the opposite sides of the street is
the Jail and a small park.”

Christine came back from the kitchen a few minutes later with a small bundle of
something that smelled of meat and baked bread.   “Eric, we’ve got
some food - but I think we should go.   I know it’s not exactly
polite, but if the hunters are using dogs we don’t want to be here if they
catch our scent.  It would be safer for Anvi and Maria if we left
now.  Maria didn’t want to admit it, but she agrees too.”

Eric nodded, and looked at Anvi who seemed relieved, although Eric was sure
Anvi would not admit it if he was asked.  “Good idea, Christine.  The
sooner we’re away from here, the sooner we can try and rescue Maeve and
Kai.”  He turned to Anvi, and said “Thanks.  For helping us - I know
it’s been dangerous for you, and I apologize.  Thank you.”

“Ditto.” piped in Christine.  “We really owe you both.”

Maria and Anvi nodded.  “Ladies of Mercy bless you both, and may the Twins
watch over you in your battles to come.”  Maria said.  “I’m sorry we
can’t do more.”

Christine took Eric’s hand and led them both from Anvi’s house - there really
wasn’t anything more to say.   The two headed out into the snowy
field, now starting to come alive with people from other nearby farms and
cottages, and headed towards the town’s walls.

As Eric and Christine approached the town’s gates, Christine muttered “Hold up,
Eric.  We need to talk - we need a plan.”

Eric stopped, and turned to Christine.  “I know we do.  I’m just not
sure I have one.”

“What were you planning on doing?  Walking in and either scaring or
killing all the guards, then running out of town?”  Christine could tell
she hit a nerve from Eric’s wince.  “We need a better plan than that, or
we’ll all be fugitives for a reason - we’ll deserve it.  Are you really
the kind of person who could kill someone else because it was expedient?”

Eric slumped.  “No.  I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“Neither do I, yet - but I’m sure murdering guards who are just doing their job
is not the way to do it.   Why don’t we go to the park Anvi
mentioned, eat our breakfast, and work out a plan?   If we’re lucky
maybe Maeve and Kai will get a cell with a window and we can plan with them.”

“Ha - next thing you’ll say is that maybe if we ask nicely, they’ll let them
go?”  Eric’s snort and laughter was good natured, and broke some of the
tension - and his embarrassment at his lack of a real plan.  I can’t
believe that was my plan.  Jeez.

The two pulled their cloaks tighter, and approached the gate.  Two guards
stood nearby, huddled against the wooden walls to avoid the worst of the winter
winds.   One was a man with ash-blonde hair in his late forties, and
the other a woman in her late twenties.  Both wore thick wool cloaks over
what appeared to be a leather breastplate, and had strong leather bracers and
greaves strapped to their forearms and shins.  Wooden shields were laid to
one side of the door, and each guard had a spear close at hand, as well as a
belt knife and a truncheon.   The two guards gave Eric and Christine
a long look as they approached, but apparently figured they were harmless, and
made no motions to stop them.

Inside the walls of Ogden town, Eric expected to find... well he didn’t know
exactly, but he thought it would resemble one of those ren-faire recreations
parents take their kids to see, to see what life was really like back
then.  He was shocked to see it was far more - and less - than he
expected.

The street was cobbled stone, with small patches of melting snow - wet in some
places and slushy elsewhere.  The houses were made of brick and wood,
painted and clean, with windows either made of poor colored glass, or shuttered
tight against the cold winds.   The roofs were mostly shingled with
wood - maybe cedar, maybe something else - and a few were even roofed with
straw thatch.   Most buildings had a wooden porch, and there were
wooden awnings over most of the porches - like miniature
apartments.   Oddly, it seemed as if many of the houses had smaller
floors with doors, porches and windows where their attics should be.  Thin
ropes - like laundry lines - criss-crossed the streets, most with laundry
dangling from them.  Everything smelled of woodsmoke, damp wool and
cotton, human sweat and filth.   The last was easy to fathom why - a
thin trail of waste dribbled down the center of the street into a shallow
gutter that carried the filth to god knows where, and clumps of horse dung
dotted the street here and there like sprinkles on a cake.

Eric stopped a moment at the smell, but recovered quickly - it wasn’t too
different from being in the alley with Dave and Norm when he was on the street,
and he had to bite down to resist giving in to too many hot salty tears over
his friends fate.  Christine on the other hand, seemed like she’d been
slapped.  Eric guessed it must smell much stronger if you’re not around it
much.

“Hey Christine, it’s not that bad - it could have been summer when we got
here...”  Eric quipped.

Christine made a face as she looked around.  “I know, but it’s still a
shock when it hits you - the smell I mean.  I never really believed the
town would be this... this...”   She looked like she wasn’t sure what
to say.

“Dirty?”

“Yeah - that’s it.  Dirty.”  She groaned as a local woman opened her
shutters on a second floor window down the street and called out “Halloo!”,
right before she dumped what could only be described as a chamberpot onto the
street below.

“Try not to look.”  Said Eric.  “It helps if you pretend its not
there.”

“It does?”

“Yeah.”   Eric nodded, and pulled Christine to one side as a cart
drawn by two horses passed by, carrying stacks of hay.   “Lets go
find that little park and eat, like you said and figure out what to do next.”

“Good idea.  I’m just not sure I’ll be able to eat.”  Christine’s
face looked a little pale.

“Great - more for me.”  Eric was only partially kidding - the last time he
ate was when they made camp last night, over twelve hours ago.  His
stomach rumbled as if to punctuate his comment, and he chuckled.  “Come on
Christine - you need to eat something, if only to keep up your strength.”

“No...”  Her plea seemed half-hearted, even less so when Eric pulled out
some of the food - long loaves of buttered bread filled with spiced sausages
and waved them in front of her face so that she could smell it.  Against
her will, her stomach growled loudly, and even she couldn’t help but grin.

“Your stomach disagrees.”  Eric said, waving the hot rolls in front of
her.

“Fine.” Christine said.  “I’ll eat - just stop dancing about like a mad
fool with that food.”

“Heh heh.  Okay.”

Eric stopped capering with the food, and the two headed down the street.
There were a fair number of people in town, most fair skinned with brown or
blonde hair, and most dressed in clothes that would look at home in a
historical epic’s movie set back home.  The most common garments for men
seemed to be either trousers or a woolen kilt, topped by a linen shirt and a
wool coat, while most women seemed to be wearing linen and cotton dresses
embroidered with various designs, skirts or trousers and chemises, similar to
the men.  Most wore leather shoes or boots, and everyone who looked like
they could afford a cloak or coat had one.

They walked, wide eyed at the difference between here, and now, with what they
had taken for granted back home.  There was no power, no lights beyond
what lamps people decided to hang from their porches, and no background sound
of automobiles or Jet engines passing overhead.  Even though the air stank
of wet wool and sweaty human, Eric and Christine noticed after a few moments a
few things they didn’t smell - the omnipresent stink of burnt gasoline or scent
of hot asphalt, and the scent of rotting garbage.  It was a strange kind
of dichotomy they noticed - one you normally wouldn’t until every last vestige
of modern life was stripped away.

I wonder if I’ll be able to sleep without all the light pollution of downtown
Toronto?
Eric thought.   It never really gets dark at home.  Not
really dark.

Looking around, they found the streets Anvi had told them of - Lantern Way and
Dove’s park.  Lantern way was rather unimaginatively named for the twin
rows of lanterns leading down its length to a large and imposing structure that
could be a small castle or medieval church, although the architecture was
different from churches at home.  Dove’s park was a small enclosed park,
ringed by a short wall of fieldstones and mortar.  A wooden bench sat
under a tree, its branches bare with small spring buds poking out beneath its
bark.  It a few weeks, it would be covered in greenery.  There was a
small spring opposite the bench, covered in a thin skin of ice, except for its
center where the water was clear.      Across the
street they could hear the tapping of the cobbler’s hammers, and smell the
sweet smell of baking bread and cooking pies.  The park was mercifully
distant from the gutter in the street, and the stench of city waste was much
less here.

I’ll bet this park is packed come summer-time.  Eric thought.
“I’ll clear us a space, okay?”

He
used his arm to shovel what little snow was left on the bench, and both he and
Christine sat down to eat the breakfast Maria had made them.

*
*          *

Great, thought Maeve.  Another fucking jail.  I’d ask how I get in
these kinds of messes, but I wouldn’t really enjoy the answer, would I?
She looked over at Kai’s prone body, his head and hair covered in dried blood
from where Sir Andred’s mace had nearly caved in his skull.  At least
He’s breathing steadily - he should be okay.  I always thought he was
hard-headed.   She winced both at her own humor and at the pain
from the huge welt and bruise the knight they had fought had left on her
jaw.  She wasn’t pleased to be making jokes about their situation, but was
happy that Kai’s wound was not so serious that she could not make a little joke
or two at his expense.

“I suppose as cells go, this is an improvement.” she muttered.  The cell
she and Kai were in was fairly large - about 10 feet by 12 feet, by 8 feet high
- and it had two long wooden benches that were wide enough to sleep on, if you
were careful.  Kai was stretched out on one of these.  There was a
barred window high up on the wall - above Maeve’s field of vision by at least a
foot and a half, but at least it let some light and air in.  The cell was
cold and drafty - without the thick cloaks Anvi had given them, they would be
freezing right now.  The door to the cell looked as if it were both
sturdy, and fashioned with a decent lock.  Whether or not it had other
enhancements, Maeve would leave for the moment.

From the pale light filtering into their cell, it seemed that it was just after
dawn.  As she listened, she could hear the sounds of a town slowly coming
to life after a night inside safe, warm homes.  She heard shop doors open
and close, the sound of tapping hammers and the clip-clop of horses drawing
wagons, and could smell freshly baking bread from the window.   Ogden
town...  It’s the only place we could be this far north.  Great.
Maeve heard her stomach growl, and realized all the smell of fresh bread was
doing was making her hungry.

I wonder where Eric and Christine are?  Maeve mused.  Did
they get captured too?   Damn!  They’re probably either
captured, dead, or wandering around lost in the woods.   There
wasn’t much point in worrying at the moment - Maeve knew if she didn’t get
herself and Kai out of the jail cell soon, all four of them were as good as
dead.

“Let’s see if this cage has any cracks.”  She said to herself.
Sitting one of the two benches, she concentrated and tried to enter the Nairya,
and focussed her Sight.  The room took on a pale glow of various colors,
superimposed over the objects and people within it.  The walls were a
shiny charcoal, and the bars a russet - and neither showed anything in the way
of weaknesses beyond age, while the door and bunks were a mix of silvery and
green lights.  Old bars and new wood, she thought.  Not likely we’ll
be able to break either of them.    Tricking a guard was not
feasible - there would simply be too many to sneak out, and fighting their way
out in the shape they were in was tantamount to suicide.  Unsure what to
do next, Maeve sat down to think.

*
*          *

A few moments later, Kai groaned a bit and put his hand to the wound on his head,
wincing in pain.  “Ouch!”  He muttered.  “Did they have to
nearly cave my head in?”   His eyes opened and he closed them again
immediately - the room was swimming and he couldn’t focus clearly.
Instead of looking around, he tried to sit up - and found himself
assisted.  “Maeve?”

“In the flesh.”  A familiar voice said.  “I’m glad you’re alive; that
knight hit you pretty hard.”  Maeve’s voice sounded clear and strong,
although not particularly cheerful to Kai.

“Actually, he did, didn’t he.  My eyes are still reeling from that blow.
I think he may have actually intended to kill me.  Do you always
make so many friends?”   Kai tried again to open his eyes, and this
time the room wavered into blurry focus, and didn’t dance or spin about.
Confident he wouldn’t be overtaken by vertigo, he tried to focus.

“More, usually - although they usually aim for me, and not my friends.”
Maeve said, her concern on her face apparent.

“Ah - just lucky I guess.  Oh well.”  Kai tried to smile a bit, and
succeeded.  It wasn’t the first time he had been wounded while working
with Maeve - she seemed to attract enemies like honey attracted ants or
flies.  “Remember the time one of your friends knifed me in Yaskar for
trying to book you passage out of the country after you um... ‘liberated’ some
trinkets from one of their ancient cairns.”   He still had the scars
to prove it.

She smiled sadly.  “Yes... and the time the fey prince ensorcelled you to
track me down after I ‘assisted’ the Valdan Ambassador out of Rillian with some
well-hidden state secrets.  If I hadn’t been able to break that spell,
either you would have killed me - or I would have killed you.   I’m
sorry I got you in this mess, my friend.”

“Well, Maeve - what’s life without a little excitement, eh?”  Kai smiled,
thinking of old times.  It had been 5 years since he had worked with Maeve
- since her brother had died to an assassins dart when she was off duty.
She had dropped out of sight for a while, and he had heard she still worked for
the Church, but it seemed her duties always took her away from home for a long
time.   “Why did you disappear for so long, after Nile?”

Maeve paused - she didn’t like thinking about that day.  “I have a bad
habit of getting the people close to me killed, Kai.  You and Anvi are
some of my only real, true friends I have left, as well as maybe a handful of
others that aren’t family.  I didn’t want to put either of you into danger
if I could avoid it - great job I’ve done, huh?”

“It’s not like you locked us in here.”  Kai said.   “And as far
as I’m concerned, the last fifteen months have been so boring it was a godsend
to be able to do something exciting again.   I mean the normal grind
of hunting is pretty bland, and sometimes scouting the borders between here and
Yaskar and Rillian is exciting - but more often all it is is more miles beneath
my feet, and several pairs of worn out boots.  I’m glad you came to me for
this job - I was bored silly, and the money is much better than trapping furs
or hunting game.”  He paused, and took a breath before continuing.
“I have to admit though, I’m not sure why the dreamers or Eric and Christine
are so important to your mission.  Weren’t we sent to find out what the
church of Lady Delirium was doing with the dreamers, and that’s all?  How
does that figure in with Vargas and Hrask’s mate?”

“I’m not exactly sure, Kai.”  Maeve said.   “All I know is that
Vargas and Mistress Awai from the House of Broken Dreams have been collecting
mageborn dreamers, and that some sort of link exists between one of them - a
red headed young Valdan woman he called a bridge- and Eric, who he called an
anchor.   Christine is here only by accident.   I think Vargas
believes that somehow the dreamer forged a link with Eric, and that Eric may
know where he can find Tiamat, Hrasks’ mate.”

Kai shuddered without meaning too, unable to shake a pall of fear.  The
only reason mankind had been able to break free of the grip of the Dragonlords
of Hserin three and a half millennia ago, was because without Tiamat at Hrask’s
side, no new true dragons could be born.   Hrask alone could not
defeat the Divine Familia, and so humanity won its freedom. If Tiamat was to
return, there would be war in Heaven, and perhaps this time, mankind would
fall.   “Is it true... does he know?”

“I don’t know - things have been so crazy I haven’t been able to tell.  I
think on his world he was in their version of a sanatorium, albeit one for the
very rich.  Maybe he has an education?”   Maeve looked lost in
thought.  “I’m not sure what he can tell us.  He seemed disturbed
when I arrived - more than you would expect - and I had to use magic to calm
his mind.  He seemed ‘crazy’ to me, and yet since He’s been here He’s been
fine and I overheard him telling Christine his voices are gone.  I’m not
sure what to make of it, Kai.”

“He seemed friendly enough - and not crazy like you’d expect someone from a
madhouse to act.  Is it possible his using magic to bring you, Christine
and himself here may have cured his illness?  We both know that a young
sorcerer who isn’t taught how to control his magic can be driven mad by the
Call.  Perhaps his actively using his magic removed that insanity?”

“I don’t know Kai - it seems far-fetched.  An untrained sorcerer takes
years to get over his or her mental problems once they’ve been trained - never
instantly.  This must be something else - something different.”
Maeve looked deep in thought, and then shook her head.  “I suppose it
doesn’t matter a damn unless we can get out of here, though.”

Kai nodded.  “There must be something about Eric or the dreamer linked to
him that Vargas needed - something they both share.  Is it possible Vargas
found Eric by following whatever magical link exists between the dreamer and
Eric?  Or Eric being able to find Mercia out of all the worlds in the
Void, by following that link back here - to where the other half of his link
exists?”

“That must be it, Kai!  You’re a genius!   That’s why Vargas
wants the Mageborn dreamers - maybe they’re ALL linked to other people, on
other worlds.  Vargas and Awai are using the dreamers to find other worlds
where Tiamat may have fled to when she left Hrask at the dawn of time, and Eric
was the other half of one of those links.   So if we kill the
dreamers, then Vargas can’t find Eric’s world without Eric himself - and can’t
find Hrask’s mate!”

“I just foresee one problem with that, Maeve.  If we kill ALL the dreamers
in the House of Broken Dreams, wouldn’t that leave Eric and Christine stuck
here?  If the dreamer is acting as a beacon in the Void, Eric won’t be
able to find his way home, right?  And even if he can find his way home,
we still have a problem because unless Eric gets trained - quickly - and leaves
of his own accord.  If he doesn’t, then Vargas can still find Eric’s world
through him.”  I don’t like the direction this conversation is going,
Kai thought.

Maeve considered that for a moment... “Which means to be totally sure, we might
have to kill the dreamer and Eric.  Frankly, as pragmatic and effective as
it might be, I’m not sure I can do it.  He reminds me of what I imagined
Nile would be like, if he had survived to grow up.”

Kai breathed a sigh of relief.  “I’m glad to hear it - I don’t want either
of them to be hurt.  They didn’t do anything to deserve this.  I wish
Nile could have been here too, Maeve.   If he was anything like you,
he’d be a good man.”

Maeve chuckled.  “I assume you don’t mean that literally.  Thank you,
Kai - I think Nile would have been a good man too.  Another thing the
Hserinyar took from me...  I didn’t keep them from killing my brother, but
I can at least try to keep them from getting their claws on Eric.”
She shook her head.  “As for not deserving it, most people never do, Kai -
it’s not fair, not in the least.  Still bad things keep happening - all we
can do is make the best of them.   If you’re against killing Eric, I
agree with you - but the other dreamers have to die.  If Tiamat is not on
Eric’s world, she may be on another and I will not allow Vargas to keep using
those poor souls as his instruments of destruction.”

“I understand.  So what’s our priority then - killing the other dreamers
to stop Vargas’s research, or getting Eric and news of Vargas’s treachery to
Arathel and the Council of Hierarchs?”  Kai asked.   “I think it
would be safest to flee with Eric to Arathel.”

“Perhaps it would Kai, but I don’t think we have enough time to take Eric
safely to Arathel, and then return in force - and still stop Vargas from
finding Eric’s world and perhaps Hrask’s mate.   We must strike
quickly and decisively - I think the only way we can stop Vargas from finding
the information he seeks without killing Eric, is by killing the Dreamers in
the House of Broken Dreams, including the young woman that is linked to
him.  It’s not pretty, and I feel bad about it - but we both have a mandate
to do whatever it takes to protect our country and our gods interests, and in
this case it meets both criteria.  Perhaps Eric will be able to find his
way home on his own, once He’s trained.  Either way, being here on Mercia
and alive is better than being dead in the Void or dead at Vargas’s hands.”

“I hope he sees it that way when you tell him.”  Somehow, I don’t think
he will.  Kai thought.  “Couldn’t we solve both problems by
killing all the dreamers but his - then take her with us, when we leave?”

“Maybe.  I doubt it, though.  I don’t think the staff of the House
are going to just let us waltz in, slaughter the dreamers, and waltz out with a
hostage - at least, not without a serious fight.  How are you at fighting
or shooting a bow with a young woman tossed over your shoulder?”  Maeve
smirked at the comment, enjoying Kai’s discomfort at the mental picture.
“Besides, we may have other problems involved in escaping as well.”

“What problems?  The followers of Lady Delirium from the House of Broken
Dreams fighting us off, or the guards from Ogden town dogging us all the way to
Arathel on Vargas’s orders?”  Kai was flippant, but only because if he
followed Maeve’s line of thought far enough, he was afraid he knew what she was
going to suggest next.

“Exactly.  The only way to get from here to Arathel quickly is travel by
riverboat, which we don’t have and likely will not be able to get - or we try
to see if we can travel by Moongate.”

“By the Unblinking Eye, you’re crazy Maeve!” Kai sputtered.  “The Council
of Hierarchs declared they were forbidden to use - that they were dangerous!”

“Kai, I know what the Council of Hierarchs said - but in the past I’ve
discovered that sometimes the Council of Hierarchs sometimes put their own
agenda before the well being of the Faith.  It’s not right for them to do
so, but it’s human nature.  It is possible they wanted use of the
Moongates restricted for their own reasons, and not because of any real dangers.”

“Do you know that for sure?”  Kai asked

“No, but is there a better, faster way we can get all four of us - or five of
us if we keep Eric’s dreamer alive - back to Arathel in time to bring charges
against Vargas and stop him or catch him in case he attempts to flee?”

“Better, yes...  Faster, no.”  Kai sighed.  “If speed is of the
essence, then you’re right.  I just hope you know what you’re doing.
Have you ever travelled by Moongate before?”   We’re going to have
to spend the next thirty years doing penance for this, I just know it.
Thought Kai.  The Moongates were relics left from the First Age, after the
Twelve Heroes of Legend led the tattered remnants of mankind from slavery in
Hserin to the lands that were now settled by humans.  No one knew how to
craft them now, or even harm one - and knowledge of their use was strictly
controlled for it was said they allowed instantaneous transport between
different places across Mercia.

“Once.  I was told how to control the gates by an old friend, a sorcerer
that had once been a Bishop.   He told me the trick of using them,
said that each one was different - but the principle behind them was all the
same.”

Kai was going to make a smart-assed retort about the wisdom (or lack thereof)
of Maeve’s plan, when he heard something outside the cell’s window, carried by
the wind.  “Hsst!  Maeve!  Listen - do you hear
something?”  It sounded like nearby voices - familiar voices.

“By Askeline’s Bow, it sounds like Eric and Christine!  What in the gods
name are they doing here?”  Maeve looked stunned.   “The last
time I saw them, they were fleeing into the woods after Christine sprayed venom
into the face of that knight that struck you.”

“Well I hope it stung.” said Kai.  “Let’s see if they’re really there, and
we’re not going mad.   Let’s pull a bench over to the window to stand
on so we can see out.”

Maeve and Kai grabbed a bench and moved it over to the window - which even with
the bench was about a half-foot or so too high for Maeve to see out the cell
window, even on tip-toes.  Kai took her place, and looked out.

“What do you see?”  Maeve asked.

“Damn.  It’s Eric and Christine alright.  They’re in a park about fifty
feet away.  They look fine... and they’re eating breakfast.”
Kai looked at Maeve, and his stomach growled.

Maeve felt the same way.   The smell of baking bread had been making
both Maeve and Kai progressively more and more hungry all morning.  “Get
them over here.  I have an idea.”

*
*          *

Eric was just polishing off the last of his breakfast, and Christine was well
into hers when they heard Kai’s voice, calling to them from one of the prison
cell windows.  Kai looked bloody and beaten, and both Eric and Christine
could hear Maeve muttering in the cell.    The cell was recessed
into the ground, so that the window was very close to the ground on the
outside, much like a basement apartment.   The iron bars looked
sturdy and quite thick.

Damn!  Eric thought.  Christine must have a golden
horseshoe crammed up her butt - they ARE in a jail cell with a window.
“Hey Christine...”

“Yeah, I see him.”  Christine said.  “Let’s go.”

“Christine, when we get there, just lean up against the wall and pretend we’re
talking.  That way if anyone comes by and sees us, it won’t look like
we’re trying to figure out a jailbreak.”  Eric said.   “It
worked pretty good in Toronto, when I didn’t want to be hassled by people.”

“You organized jailbreaks in Toronto?”  Christine asked

“Um... No.”  Eric said, smirking at the idea.  I could just see
myself a month ago trying to bust people out of old city hall jail...
Heh!   “It just worked well when Norm and Dave and I didn’t want to
be noticed by security guards or cops - just pretended to be doing something
boring and unimportant, and they left us alone.”

Christine nodded, probably wondering what else Eric learned on the
street.  The two got up, and walked over to the window of Kai and Maeve’s
jail cell, and leaned nonchalantly against the wall next to the bars.

Eric blanched in concern when he saw Kai’s head, covered in dried blood where
it had coagulated on his head wound.  He also noticed Kai looked a little
dizzy too - it was obviously tiring for him to try and reach the window.  He’s
hurt!  Eric thought.  “You Okay, Kai?”

“Depends on your definition of okay.”  Kai replied, smirking.  “I’ve
got a hell of a headache, and I’m not seeing totally straight yet, but I’m well
enough to walk, and fight if needed.  Maeve’s much the same way, except
that the bruise on her mouth hasn’t kept her from talking.”

“Hey!”  Maeve’s voice called up from the cell below.

Kai continued.  “Maeve has a plan that might get us out of here without
being noticed, if you can help.”   Kai’s stomach rumbled and groaned
again.  “Oh, and if you can spare some food, we’d both really appreciate
it.”

Christine knelt down, as if to tie her boot laces, and handed Kai the remainder
of her breakfast.  Kai took it with a quick ‘thanks’, and tore the bread
and sausage in half, and handed it to Maeve.  The next few minutes were
quiet as Eric and Christine waited for the other two to eat.  Soon they
were finished.

Maeve’s voice called up.  “I can’t reach the window, Christine, Eric so
please bear with me.  I need Eric to listen in particular, because he
might be our best shot at getting out of here.”

Eric looked puzzled.  “How come?”

“It’s a long and complicated answer - like the one about religion
earlier.  How about I explain it once we’re NOT in prison waiting to be
turned over to Bishop Vargas?”  Maeve snapped.

“Sorry for asking.  What do you want me to do?”  Eric said.

“Just listen for a moment.  You know that sorcerers like you and I focus
Magic through Words, which I said we use to filter out harmful Void energy,
right?  Well not every sorcerer has talent with the same Words.  I
think you might have a talent for opening and closing things - I’ll explain in
more detail later.”

“Okay - go on.”  Eric looked a little confused.  I guess I can wait a
bit for an explanation.

“The fact you were able to bring us here - you, Christine and me - instead of
just yourself, means you’re probably quite good at it.  I want to try and
teach you the Word for Binding, to see if you can unlock the door to the cell
over there.”  Maeve called up.  “It might not work, but it’s our best
chance at escaping without notice, or without having to kill a bunch of
guards.”

Eric looked at Christine, and they both nodded.  “I’m glad you don’t plan
on killing the guards.  What can I do - and why do I need to unlock the
door instead of you?”

“Like I said, not everyone has the same talent with
each Word.  I can barely lift a ring of keys - maybe five pounds,
tops.  You brought three people through the Void, without
training.   My focus in magic is Sight and Mind - magic that affects
a persons mind and thoughts, and what a person can sense with his five
senses.  I can make myself and Kai invisible, once the cell door is open,
and we can walk right out of here - but not if I exhaust myself trying to
unlock the door.  Understand?”

“I think so.”  Said Eric.  “What do I have to do?”

“I’m going to recite one of the Words of Primal Essences to you - more
specifically, the Word of Binding... don’t ask - I’ll explain later.  If
you’re as close as I think you might be to coming into your power, you should
be able to comprehend enough of the Word to unlock the door.  If not, we
try another plan.”

“All I have to do is listen to a Word and I can do magic?  That’s
it?  No years of training - no books, no studying?”  Now Eric was
surprised.   “Can Christine do magic too, if she listens to the
Word?”

“Arrgh.  I said later!   Not everyone who hears the Words can
understand the Words, Eric.  It’s like listening to a different language -
either you understand it, even if only a little - or you don’t.   She
might hear me speak a Word, but she wouldn’t comprehend it, make it her own,
and be able to use its power.  Normally it takes a long time to ready a
persons mind to be able to accept their first Word - several months or even a
few years - but you’ve already handled more raw power and lived than most
novices would dream of.”   Maeve sounded frustrated at Eric’s
questions.

Christine spoke up.  “Maybe so, Maeve but try to remember Eric is new to
this.  I’m sure he wants to know what happens if he isn’t ready to learn
the Word, right?”

“He’ll get the mother of all headaches, Christine.  That’s about
it.  Look, Eric, I’m confident you can do this.  It will take some time
to speak the Word.  Can we please get started before the guards come to
take us away?”

Eric nodded.  “Sure.”  I wonder what learning magic will be like?
He thought.

“Good.  Find a place to sit, and calm your mind.  Relax and just
listen to my voice.  You’ll hear things that might sound different from my
voice - that’s normal.  Just try to listen and understand what I say, and
we’ll see if you’re ready.”  Maeve gritted her teeth - she hated the next
part.  It always left her throat raw for hours.   She focussed
her thoughts and entered her Nairya, and began to speak the Word of
Binding.

As Maeve began to speak, Eric wasn’t sure he was hearing Maeve correctly.
The sound of her voice seemed to expand, filling the cell and the park
beyond.  There were hints of phrases, spoken all around him, like he was
surrounded by a crowd of whispering ghosts, male and female, young and
old.  It was almost like his voices, back home - but utterly without
malice, and while Eric found that odd he also found it comforting and familiar.
He couldn’t actually hear the Word being spoken with his ears - he
felt like his brain was being opened up and information - concepts and ideas -
were being poured in en masse, until his head felt like it would swell until it
burst.  He tried to refocus harder, to better hear the Word.

The sounds of the Word moved around Eric, almost like a whirlwind of voices
that both confused and enlightened him all at once.    He felt
like he was being filled with the knowledge of the universe, like he could
contain no more.  His vision blurred as images and concepts danced before
it, obscuring his sight - and then it was over.  Eric slumped, feeling
exhausted like he had just run several miles while having his head bounced off
some pavement a few times.

Maeve’s voice was quiet for a moment, and Kai called up.  “Is Eric okay?”

Christine looked at Eric - he looked dizzy, and stunned but otherwise unharmed.
“He seem’s fine - just dizzy I think.”

“I’m ... I’m okay.”  Said Eric, shaking his head.  “It felt strange -
I can’t fully describe it, Christine.  It was like being full after a
meal, but full of knowledge or concepts or something else.  It soaked into
me, like a sponge, until I couldn’t hold any more.”   He stood to
stretch, and had to put his hand on the jail wall or he would have
fallen.   “It didn’t feel like anything I ever felt before.  I
felt like I understood.”

“Understood what?”  Said Christine.

“Everything.”  Eric said.  “Everything.  And now I can’t
remember any of it.”

Maeve’s voice, hoarse from use, called up.  “That’s normal.  It takes
time for the knowledge to sink in, to assimilate into you person.  It
becomes part of you, on a subconscious level - like how you know when you are
dreaming.  When you need to use it, it just ... comes to you.  The
more you have an affinity with a Word, the more you understand and are capable
of using.”  She coughed.  “Of course, the opposite is also true - if
you have a particular lack of affinity with a Word, you are never able to
develop any meaningful abilities with it, even if you can accomplish a few
minor tricks.”

“So your ability might be very different from what Eric might have, if he has
more innate talent at this Word than you do?   He might have less
talent in other Words.”  Asked Christine.

“Yes Christine.  In fact, it’s almost certain that he will have different
levels of affinity to certain Words.  That’s just the way of things... its
normal.”  Maeve stood and stretched.  “We need to see if Eric can
open the door.  Eric, are you alright?  Can we try opening the door?”

Eric breathed hard for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.  “I feel
like my head is pounding, but I can think clearly.  I can try - what do I
need to do?”   He knelt down so he could see into the cell. Maeve had
moved to the far end of the cell, and could see her now, by the locked door.

“Just start by relaxing.  Look at the door, and concentrate on it.
See it.  Understand it.  Know it.  When you’re ready, just reach
out to it and try to open it, with your mind.”

Maeve seemed eager - almost excited - but whether it was from the thought of
escape being close at hand, or the eagerness of a teacher to see if her pupil
succeeds or not, Eric couldn’t tell.  He did as she said, and stared at
the door.  His eyes bore into it, gathering details and imperfections in
its finish.  It was solid wood - a shade of light blue and yellow-white
like a tinted pine.  It was barred with rusty bands of iron, and locked
with an iron lock.   Eric focussed on the lock itself, until the rest
of the world seemed to fade away - until nothing existed except Eric and the
lock.   He felt his mind test the lock’s structure - it was new, and
well kept, and he could feel the crude tumblers inside its casing.  It’s
pretty crude compared to what locks are like back home, he thought.  Maybe
if I give it a nudge, it should move it enough so that the lock might
give.  It just needs a nudge... like that!   He felt
something in his mind stretch - and then snap back into place, and was hit with
a wave of nausea and fatigue that made him slump.

“Eric!  Are you okay?”  Christine said, as she rushed over a few
steps to try and grab Eric before he fell over or nearly fainted.  It was
a few seconds before he could speak.

“I... I’m okay.  Just tired.   Maeve, what the hell just
happened.”  Eric said looking for Maeve.  Maeve was gone, and Kai was
quickly fading from sight.  “What the ...?”

Maeve’s voice came from the far side of the cell, although there was no body to
go with the voice - while Eric had been unlocking the door, she must have woven
a spell to render herself and Kai invisible.  “You’re feeling a draining
sensation like extreme fatigue.  Its normal.  With practice, you’ll
be able to do much more than a single spell before becoming tired - maybe much,
much more.”  She paused.  “And Eric... The door’s open.  You did
great!”  Maeve’s voice was filled with pride, and she seemed impressed.

“It opened?”  Eric said, almost not believing it.  Yet there across
the cell, he saw the door open.  He must have done that.  “It
opened!”

“It did.  Now Kai and I need to be silent and find a way out of here - my
spell of invisibility won’t last forever.   It would be best if we
snuck out of the city separately.  Meet us outside the city walls in the
largest copse of trees north and west of the city gates.  Kai and I will
do our best to meet you there within an hour.”

“Alright.”  Eric said.   “What if you’re delayed?”

“Then wait.”  Said Kai.  “If we know where you are, we can at least
find you.  If we both move about, looking for each other we could end up
playing tag for hours and get ourselves caught again.  We’ll only have a
few hours at best before they notice us missing or the Bishops men come to get
us.  We need to make haste.”

“Well said.”  croaked Maeve, her voice still raw and sore.  “We’ll
meet you within an hour.”

Eric and Christine stood, and brushed the snow off their respective pants and
skirt.   “I guess we had better go, eh Christine?”

“Yeah, now would be a good time.  Tell me about what just happened while
we walk, once we’re outside the city walls.   It sounds like you have
a lot to try and explain - and probably more than you can take in all at
once.   It might help your head to try and sort it out.”

“It might... Thanks Christine.”

“No problem, kiddo.  I can’t return you to Angie broken - I already lost
your receipt.”

“Too bad.”  Eric said.  “Am I still under warranty?”

“Maybe.  I’ve had you less than thirty days.”  Christine joked.

“Well, I guess I better do my part to return home whole so Angie won’t be
pissed at you.  Of course, when she hears what we’ve been doing she’ll
either lock us BOTH up for being crazy, or she’ll believe us and freak so hard
she’ll need a couple of quarts of rum to calm down enough to understand that
we’re okay.”  Eric returned Christine’s joke with his own.  “Of
course, my sister and a couple of quarts of rum means we won’t be explaining
anything to her until she recovers... in a few days.”

“Heheh.” Christine chuckled.  “Angie never could hold her
booze.”   She knew Eric had seen the pictures of Christine and Angie
in college - usually at some wild party or other event.  Angie was always
the one who got tanked first, and Christine was always the one who made sure
Angie made it home in one piece and fell into a couch to sleep it off, rather
than the floor or the house of a stranger.   Christine and Angie even
had matching key chains saying BFF – ‘Best Friends Forever.’  Angie was
family - family you chose, instead of family you were born with.  If
Christine was able to bring Eric home in one piece, she would - or die trying.

The two walked in silence, as Eric’s strength slowly came back to his
limbs.   Eric tensed up as they approached the town guards at the
gates of Ogden town, but as he and Christine passed them by without being
hailed, he calmed down and relaxed.  Soon they were out in the fields
surrounding the
town.

“So... How did you open the cell door?”  Asked Christine.

Eric stopped and looked at her, and said completely dead pan  “Mad Jedi
Skills, Christine.  Mad Jedi Skills.”

Christine looked at Eric, then slapped him upside the head.  “You are such
an asshole.”  She joked, smirking.   “No more internet and TV
for you.  Let’s go.”

Chapter 12 - Answers to
Questions

Christine and Eric headed back to the copse of trees, where they left their
stolen horse.  It was just up a small hill where it commanded a good view
of the fields around Ogden town.  A small trail ran up the hill towards a
farm - the area where their horse was hidden was just off the trail at the top
of the hill, in a wooded area.   Few farmers took notice of them,
being too busy with their chores and work, but a few here and there nodded
amiably at Eric and Christine as they passed, acknowledging their presence in a
friendly manner.

“Looks like we’re here.”  Said Eric as they found their tethered
horse.  “I’ll check him out and brush him down while we wait for Kai and
Maeve.”   Eric fumbled in a saddle bag until he found some brushes
and combs, and got started.

Christine looked through the trees to see if she could see Kai or Maeve
approaching - then she remembered.  Duh... I won’t see them - they’ll
be Invisible!   This magic stuff is going to take a LOT of getting
used to.  Christine sat on a fallen tree, and looked
about.   The trees were similar to earth pines and maples, but
somehow subtly different - a shade too blue here, a shade too grey or brown there,
with strangely shaped seeds.   The air was still cold and clear, and
the clean smell of the countryside was refreshing after the overwhelming smells
of Ogden town.  Looking closer at the seed pods, Christine couldn’t help
but give an amused snort as she grabbed a handful off a low hanging branch of
one of the not-pines.

“What’s so funny?”  Eric asked, looking over his shoulder from where he
was currying the horse.

“These seeds are... check it out, Eric.”  Christine held out the handful
of seeds to Eric, barely stifling a giggle.  In her palm sat several seed
pods, that for all the world looked like a male member bracketed by two
wrinkled sacs on either side.  The erect part of the seed pod looked like
it functioned in a similar way to the wing of a maple-seed that allowed the
seed to spread in the wind.

“Um...  They look like...”  Eric seemed at a loss for words, and
carefully picked up a pod to get a better look.  “Is this for real?
I mean this is really strange...”  He said

“I guess they grow on trees around here.”  Christine said, at which point
she couldn’t keep a straight face anymore and began laughing.  Eric
started chuckling also, and in a few seconds they were both laughing hard,
feeding off each other’s mirth and the ludicrousness of the oddity before
them.  The stress both of them had been under only made the emotional
release of laughing more intense.   Soon, they were gasping for
breath, tears running down their faces, and trying to compose themselves.
After they calmed themselves, they sat, snickering at the palm full of strange
seeds.

Their mirth was quickly shattered when the two heard the quick sharp snap of a
stick being stepped on.  Alert, they looked around for what had made the
noise, their hearts pounding with adrenaline, fearing it might be their
pursuers.

“Well I knew they were amusing - when I was six.”  Kai’s voice said.
“You should be more careful Maeve - your careless step gave us away.”
Eric and Christine relaxed when they heard the friendly voice.

“Kai!  Maeve!  Where are you?”  Eric called.  “We can’t see
you.”

Maeve’s voice said “That’s the point of being unseen, Eric... although it seems
I did mess up our surprise entrance.”  Maeve let her spell drop and she
and Kai quickly shimmered into view as the magic faded.   “I was
always better at hiding in cities anyway.”

They looked bruised and bloody, and both Eric and Christine were taken aback at
how hurt the two of them looked.  Kai in particular looked a little dazed
and wobbly on his feet, and had a lump almost the size of a robin’s egg on his
head.

“Are you two okay?”  Christine asked.  Kai looked like he could use
Anvi’s help - if Anvi would help them, which Christine wasn’t sure of.

Kai nodded, then leaned out to hold a tree-trunk to avoid from wobbling.
Eric rushed over to help keep him standing, and helped support Kai under one
shoulder.  Eric could feel Kai shaking - like he was shivering and weak,
but putting up a strong front.

“You need to sit, Kai.”    Eric’s tone of voice was full of
concern, and made it plain it was not a suggestion - and surprisingly Kai
didn’t argue.  Eric couldn’t help but notice how vulnerable Kai seemed at
the moment, compared to the strong person they had met the night before.  The
blow he took to the head must have really hurt him badly.  Eric
thought.

“Fine, I’ll sit - I’ll need my strength soon anyway.”  He hobbled over to
the log Christine had been sitting on, and disentangled himself from Eric and
sat and rested a moment.   “Those nuts you were laughing at - they
have many names, many of them not speakable in polite company.  Most
Valdan’s call them Ballnuts, for obvious reasons.”

“It seems strangely appropriate.”  said Christine.  “Why
are...”

“Why are they shaped like... the way they are?”  Kai interrupted.
“Some say it’s a small perverse joke originating from Adinor, goddess of plants
and animals, nature and the wild, as a reminder that from seeds, comes life -
and from life, seeds.  Almost every bit of a Ballnut is useful for
something.  If you break off the ... member... and eat it, it is
nourishing if rather foul tasting - but the real value is in the two
sacs.”  Kai broke one of the seed pods open, and a greenish sap that
smelled strongly of menthol oozed out.  “This sap is called Nusia - its
strongly flavoured, but highly nourishing and capable of sustaining a person in
the wilderness without any other food for several days by itself.  We also
often brew it into a sort of syrup, which we use in the spring and winter to
heal stubborn coughs.  The seeds in the sacs we roast and serve in salted
in bowls, like pub food.”

“And thus another hundred million dollars will be made if we ever get back to
Earth with these seeds, Christine.”  Eric said.  “At this rate we’ll
have mouthwash, antiseptics, salted ballnuts and cough syrup you can all grow
in your backyard.  The naturopaths will go nuts over this
stuff.   We might even be able to make ‘ballnut-butter’ - like peanut
butter.”

Kai looked a bit puzzled.  “I assume ‘dollars’ is money where you come
from?  Is that a coin?”

“I guess its our turn to explain.”  Said Christine.   “A dollar
is a form of currency, like a silver coin, except its made from paper because
its cheaper and easier to make paper where we come from than to mint silver
coins.  One to two dollars would buy you a loaf of bread, and thirty
dollars a decent bottle of wine.”

“...And about twenty thousand dollars would buy a vehicle like the one you and
I rode from the Neilson Clinic, where you appeared with the Demon, to
Christine’s home.”  Eric chimed in.

Maeve nodded, understanding a little more.  “So those chariots you called
‘cars’ are very expensive.  You could buy five or six loaves of bread for
a silver coin - and perhaps four or five heavy war-horses with barding for the
cost of one car.   It sounds like your dollar is worth about one of
our copper coins, and our silver maybe five or six dollars.”

Kai looked like he was taking in the information as well.  “What’s a
naturopath?  Is that a kind of alchemist?”

Christine shook her head.  “No, its more like a person who emphasizes
using all-natural products over chemically made products.  Like
organically grown produce and vegetables.”

Now Maeve looked confused.  “I don’t understand...”

“How come?” Christine asked.

“Well, don’t vegetables have to be organic in the first place - if they weren’t
organic, they would be inorganic, right?  I assume your people don’t eat
rocks and dirt, so they must be organic.  And don’t the foods you eat have
to be all natural too?  I mean, they came from your world - they must have
been found growing there once, or made from growing things.  If they
weren’t natural, they would be by default, supernatural.”  Maeve shook her
head.  “Your world sounds very strange - your words seem to be similar,
but they obviously don’t mean the same things they do here.”

Eric laughed out loud. “She’s got you there, Christine.  I can’t wait to
tell Angie I’m going to have some inorganic produce to go with my supernatural
meat byproducts when I get home!”

Christine shook her head, smiling.  It isn’t worth the time it would
take to explain to her.  She thought.  “You mean a salad to go
with your burger?  Yeah - I’d like to see her face when you tell her that
too.”

Maeve looked at Eric and Christine joking.  They seemed more relaxed, more
at ease.  Either their laughing fit had calmed them somewhat, or perhaps
they were reacting to the stress of their situation much better than she hoped.
I think they’re probably both stronger people than I initially gave them credit
for, she thought.  Maeve didn’t want to think about what she would
have to tell them if she were the cause of them not being able to go
home.

“We should be going.”  Kai piped up.  “We have a long way to go to
make up the time we lost, and we still have to avoid being caught by Vargas’s
men, like Andred Duchesne.”  He sat up straight, and used the tree to help
himself stand up.  “We also need our gear - the food, supplies and weapons
we left at our camp.  Eric, Christine... after we were captured, did
Andred or his men load any of our gear onto their horses, or did they leave it
behind?”

Eric thought a moment.  “When we left the camp, most of the stuff was
scattered around - and when they came into town, their horses looked like they
only had the two dead houndsmen and the knight.  I’d guess they left it
behind, Kai - they were fully loaded with the men that we fought.”

“Good.  It should still be there then.   I’ll take the horse and
fetch it - while you three head straight north for the House of Broken
Dreams.”  Kai said.  He saw the look of alarm on Maeve’s face, and
concern on Eric and Christine’s.  “I’ll be alright.  It’ll be better
this way - I would only slow you down on foot, and I can travel faster by horse
anyway, not to mention load virtually all our gear onto it and meet you before
you reach the bend in the Laneor river, south of the House.  There’s a
number of small stone cairns just off the main trail about a mile south and
east of the House - where they bury the unfortunate souls that pass away in
that place.  We can probably meet there safely.”

“I don’t suppose I could talk you into us all staying together?”  Asked
Maeve.

“Not really.”

“Then may Miyaga’s luck be with you, my Friend.”  Maeve said, wishing her
friend good fortune.  “We will meet again soon.”

“That we will.  May Isundal and Askeline watch over us in this endeavor,
and the Twins guide our hands.”  Kai’s prayer was second nature - unlike
Maeve, who had mostly given up on her faith, Kai was still a
believer.   Maeve may not care about the gods, Kai thought.
But I’d wager a month’s pay the gods still care about Maeve.   He
saddled up, and rode north and west.  Meanwhile, the others stood quietly
and headed north.

*
*          *

“What do you mean Missing?”  Screamed Bishop Vargas, enraged.  “Am I
to understand you had Maeve Varda, a heretic of the first order, locked in a
cell with one of her accomplices - and when you went to bring her to me, she
was simply gone?  She must have gone SOMEWHERE you fool!  Find her -
and report back when you have something useful to say!”
Vargas was so angry at the jailer’s incompetence that veins were standing out
on his forehead, throbbing like rivers of hate under his skin.  He said
no one told him Maeve Varda was a sorceress, either, which is why she wasn’t
drugged.  He shook his head in anger.  Is everyone in this
damned province so useless?   He turned away from the mirror, and
removed his speaking stone, an enchanted crystal on a golden necklace given to
him as a perk of his rank as Bishop.   He usually didn’t use it this
way - his other methods were much faster and more accurate, but ever since the
demon had taken so much of his strength, he had been forced to rely on these
trinkets instead of his own abilities.

No matter, he thought.  It is only a temporary burden at
worst.  When I find the young man linked to the dreamer, I’ll be able to
track his path from our world to his... and then my future will be assured!
Vargas knew he could use the demon he summoned before to simply take him there
- but given how their last encounter had ended, it was too great a risk.
No, he thought.  I’ll do this the tried and true way.  It may
take longer, but the risk is far less and the end result is the same.
I’ll only risk the fiend if I have no other choice.

Vargas turned as he heard a gentle knock at his door.  It was Mistress
Awai, who slipped into his chamber without waiting for him to answer.  She
was still dressed in her violet and gold robes, and it seemed as if the Demon
had exacted a heavy price from her as well.  She was in her late thirties,
but now seemed to be fifty, and her beauty was not gone but rather much
diminished - she had not aged well.   She too seemed weakened, as he
was - but he could feel the care and love she felt for him, without her even
having to speak.

“I heard you yelling, my love.  I hope things are not going as badly as I
suspect they might?”  Awai came to Vargas, and caressed his
cheek.   “Tell me what bothers you, so that we can share our burdens together
and make them less for the sharing.”

Awai didn’t look away from Vargas’s aged features, or shun his withered
form.  To her, he was still her lover and beloved.  Vargas wondered
what he had done to deserve the love of this woman, and was still surprised that
he felt and returned that love himself.  They had had their setbacks in
the last few days, with the punishment exacted by the Demon, but he still felt
if they stayed together they could pull through.

“Maeve Varda and her accomplice have escaped the prison in Ogden town,
Awai.   The young man from the other side of the Void - the Anchor,
might have been with her, but may still be at large.  I don’t know what
they plan, but as long as she remains alive we are both in danger - if not from
her personally, then from the forces of the church if she warns them of our
actions.”

“Then the answer is simple, my love.”  Awai said, holding his hand in
support.  “We find what we set out to and finish it before they can warn
anyone.   You found the young man before by delving his dreamer - why
not try it again?  Perhaps we can find them and deal with them properly,
before the Askelinian can take him to warn the Council?   It’s worth
the attempt at the very least.”

Vargas nodded.  It makes sense.  He thought.  We might
as well give it a try... if it works, we can still find his world, and attempt
to finish our work.   “Alright my love.  Let’s make the
attempt.”

“And this time, I’ll have my people track him down.”  Awai said.
“The knights you sent to stop them before probably grew suspicious that you
asked them to bring Maeve to the House of Broken Dreams, rather than letting
them rot in the Jail in Ogden town.  I assure you my people will have no
qualms of conscience about following my orders exactly.”

Vargas smiled.  “I always love it when you whisper sweet nothings to
me.”  He gave her a kiss on the cheek - and then a fiercer one on her
lips.  “Let’s get this done, Awai.  We have worked too long, and too
hard to give up on the possible rewards now.”

Mistress Awai was flushed from Vargas’s fierce display of passion, and gathered
her thoughts for a moment.  “I’ll have my people prepare the area
immediately.  Give me twenty minutes.”   Awai smiled at him
fondly, and left the chamber to prepare the Dreamer.

Soon I’ll track you down, boy.  And once I do, I’ll find your world and
wake a dead goddess.  Vargas smiled a cruel smile.   Soon.

*
*          *

Eric hurried through the forest, behind Christine and Maeve.  His leg was
still sore, which was why he lagged behind, but he was grateful that he could
at least still walk.  The snow wasn’t deep - most of the previous day’s
snow had melted, leaving only scattered patches of it.  The ground was
still mostly frozen and squishy, but not really mud yet.  They had made
good time - the terrain north of Ogden was less hilly and covered in thin
forest, which made their travel easier and faster than when they had headed
toward Kai’s camp originally.  Eric could tell Christine’s feet weren’t
bothering her as much either, which was good because they didn’t have much
wensin root balm left.  Another thing Kai needed to go get.
Eric thought.  I just hope He’s okay.   He couldn’t get
the feeling of how vulnerable Kai felt when he had helped him up out of his
thoughts, how worried it made him feel.  That blow to the head Kai took
must have really knocked him for a loop.  I hope He’s okay.

The forest had thinned a bit, and they were walking easier now.  The trees
were mostly conifers, with a smattering of barren deciduous trees and
bushes.   Maeve raised her hand and called out.  “Let’s take a
five minute rest.”

Christine must have been feeling the strain, because Eric was sure he heard her
mutter “Thank God.” under her breath.  Truth be told, Eric was feeling it
more than a little too.  Anvi had done a great job in helping his leg
heal, but another twenty mile hike was not exactly the best thing for it right
now.  It was sore, and when he examined the bandages they were seeping,
but not bleeding.  Getting off his feet and sitting felt like heaven.

“How much farther, Maeve?”  Christine asked.

“Just under ten miles, I think.  Maybe two hours if we hustle a bit, three
if we just walk.  I’d prefer to hurry, but I know your feet are in rough
shape, and Eric’s leg isn’t perfect either.”

“I think I can hustle a bit.”  Said Eric.  “My leg isn’t that bad –
it’s just sore.”

“My feet are okay too, Maeve – let’s try to hurry.  I’d feel better the
sooner we meet up with Kai and you get some weapons and we get some food and
dry clothing.”

Maeve nodded.  “Fair enough.  I promised you both an explanation
about magic at the prison.  If you don’t mind my talking a while, I’ll
explain a bit more about it.”

“I’d like that very much!”  Eric said.  “I’m still a lot in the dark
about this.”

“You should be... it usually takes years of study and preparation before someone
gets to this point.   You didn’t need the years because I think that
somehow, you’ve been accessing your talent for a long time - maybe through
contact with this Dreamer.”

“How?”  Eric looked confused.

Christine thought for a moment.  “Maybe you and the Dreamer were connected
for a while on a subconscious level, Eric.  Maybe the link between the two
of you is what activated your ability to travel between home and here, because
somehow, subconsciously you’ve had a channel open to this planet for a long
time.”

Maeve nodded.  “That’s what I was thinking too.”   She stood up,
and brushed the snow from her skirt and leggings.  “We should keep going -
we do have several miles left to cover before we can rest again.”

Eric and Christine stood, and got ready to travel, each wincing from their
respective aches and pains.  Still, they didn’t complain or argue, and
soon the trio was travelling north again.

After a few minutes, Maeve continued with her tale.  “We believe that all
of Creation rests on four metaphysical Pillars - concepts and fundamental laws,
not constructs of stone or wood.  The four pillars are The Elements,
Natures Fury, Form and Vision, and Primal Essences.   The Pillar of
the Elements contains all Earth, Air, Fire and Water - the fundamental building
blocks of creation.   The Pillar of Natures Fury contains all the
myriad creatures of land and sea, and all the functions of weather - everything
from rain and snow to sun and warmth.   The Pillar of Nature is
necessary to turn a ball of gas and vapor and rock into a world that can
sustain life.”  Maeve stopped talking for a moment to let what she had
said sink in.

“Please, keep going.”  Eric asked.  “I want to hear more.”

Christine nodded as well.  “It sounds fascinating.  I don’t pretend
to understand all of it, but I’d like to hear more too.”

“Alright.”  Said Maeve.  “The Pillar of Form and Vision contains the
worlds of the five senses - everything a living being can smell, touch, taste,
see and hear, as well as everything they think, do and believe.  Where
Elements might compose the structure of the body, and Nature the forces that
act upon it, Form and Vision compose everything that makes an individual unique
and special, and how they interact with the World.  The final Pillar, the
Pillar of Primal Essences, contains nothing - and is yet unique.  It
composes the fundamental laws of reality that allow reality to function -
Gravity, Time, or Fate, and the Binding force that holds the universe
together.  It is the Glue of Creation that holds the previous three
Pillars into recognizable form, and allow it to keep from flying apart into
separate pieces.”  Maeve waited a moment to see if the others had any
comments or questions, and when they did not, she continued.

“Together the Four Pillars of Creation hold up Mercia and the other worlds of
the Void in the Night Sky, stretching from every point in the Horizon, carrying
on their arch the Vault of Heaven.  The Vault of Heaven is the home of the
Celestials, who are the servants of Feana and Hathor, as well as the resting
place of many of the Divine Manors of our Gods, such as the House of the Sun
and Moon, the home of Isundal and Askeline.  We believe that if any one of
the four Pillars was to be sundered, all of reality would come crashing down
into ruin.”

“That’s a beautiful explanation for how things work.”  Said
Christine.  “But how does that explain magic or why Eric could do spells?”

Maeve nodded.  “We style our training of magic after the Four Pillars -
magic of elemental forces, magic of plants, animals and weather, magic of what
you can see, hear, smell and touch, and magic of what invisible forces make
things work.    We train to understand these forces by studying
Words that encompass these concepts in ways we as humans can
comprehend.   Words like Fire, Water, Sight, Mind, and so
on.   Each Word corresponds to one of the four Pillars of Creation,
and everyone who can use magic has a different strength with the various Words,
much like how some people are talented at singing, while others can’t carry a
tune, but can craft fine objects from wood or iron.”

“So when you say I might be strong in Primal Essences, you meant magic that
could affect how things like Fate or Time might work?  How does that fit
with um... Binding?”

“Binding is the force that holds things together, keeps them tight - much like
a brick is made of tiny bits of sand held together by mortar.   If
you weaken the mortar of reality with Binding, the bricks that make up an
object fall apart.  If you train hard, you should be able to apply this to
objects and learn to shatter or mend them in short order.  It is harder
still to break the glue that separates the World from the Void, but the concept
is the same - just much more complicated.   When you unlocked the
door at the jail, Eric, you used Binding magic.  You turned the nature of
the lock - which is to keep things shut - back upon itself, and in doing so
unlocked the door.”

Eric looked like he was trying to understand, and Christine as well although
with more difficulty.   They walked in silence for a while, Maeve
leading the way, as they tried to digest the huge amount of information she had
just told them.  The only sound was the crunch of snow under their feet,
and the pants of their breath in the afternoon air.  Christine was the
first to break the silence.

“So you’re good with Sight and Mind - that would be the Pillar of Form and
Vision, right?”

Christine
asked.  “...and Eric has some talent with Binding, which is Primal
Essences.”

“Yes, that’s right.”  Maeve said.

“Then how do you know who’s good at what Words?  How come some people can
hear and understand the Words and others can’t?”

“Well Christine, those are rather hard questions to answer.”  Maeve
said.  “Usually a teacher has plenty of time to see what Words his student
has talent for - like I said it often takes years before a student is ready to
comprehend his first Word.   As for how some people can understand
the Words and some can’t I cannot say.  It’s like how some people are born
beautiful, or exceptionally strong or graceful or intelligent.  It just
is.  It’s an inborn gift - a Talent, unpredictable and one that cannot be
granted to someone who doesn’t already have it.   All we do know is
that its often hereditary, but has been known to spring up spontaneously, even
in families with no known history of the Talent.”

Eric tried to take it all in, and said “I guess I’m going to have a lot to
learn, if I’m going to get Christine and I home safely, huh?”

“That would be true, Eric - but if we’re successful at stopping Vargas, at
least you and Christine will have the time for you to practice and learn before
trying to go home.”  Maeve said, feeling more than a little guilt at
misleading Eric and Christine.   I wish I could guarantee they could
get home if we sever the link with his Dreamer, but I can’t.  Maeve
thought.  These are good people - they shouldn’t have to potentially be
stuck here - but I may have no choice.

Maeve walked in silence for a moment, and then decided to broach a topic she had
carefully steered clear of until now.  “Eric, when I found you, you were
in an asylum... is that right?  An Asylum for the very rich?”

Christine stopped and looked a bit shocked, but Eric just took it in
stride.  “Yeah, I was.  I have a condition called Schizophrenia,
which basically means I heard voices and the voices told me to do things...
scary things.  They terrified me, and haunted my dreams.  We have
medications that can control stuff like this, but it makes you feel hollow inside
- empty, like you can move and walk and talk, but you can’t feel sad or happy
or anything else - just a constant state of feeling neutral.   I
didn’t take my medication much, and so I spent a lot of time on the street
begging, at the whim of what my voices said to do or not do.  I don’t
really know why - I guess its just I felt feeling something - even bad things -
was better than feeling nothing at all.”

“Do the voices ever go away?  Do people get better from this?”  Maeve
asked.

“No, not really.  The drugs mask the voices so they don’t dominate your
mind, but they’re always there in the background, whispering.
Sometimes you can ignore them - but stress and other things can make that
harder to do.”   Eric paused.  “I’ve heard that sometimes, rarely,
people get better from this in their late forties, but I’ve never met anyone
with my condition who had. I think most don’t get better - and a lot of people
who do start taking their medications often stop, at least once or twice in
their life.  It’s not uncommon for people with schizophrenia to kill
themselves to make the voices stop.  I tried once - I don’t know why, but
Norm and Dave stopped me.  The voices scared me enough, but I always
thought it was the wrong thing to do.”

“It must be terrifying to live with.”  Maeve said, genuine concern
in her face.

“Its also hard for Eric to talk about.”  Said Christine, trying to change
the subject.  “He hasn’t been hearing any voices since he got here, and we
don’t know why.  Neither of us think he’s spontaneously been cured, but we
don’t have an explanation for it either.”

“Hrmmm.  When we reach the point where Kai is to meet us, I’d like to try
something, if it’s all right with you.  Like I said before, I’m skilled in
Mind magic - maybe I can see something inside you that might explain what’s
happening.”

Eric thought about it for a moment.  He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of
someone poking around in his head, his thoughts - but he’d had his thoughts
invaded before, by voices far less friendly than Maeve.  Maybe I
should, just to see if she can find out why this is happening.  Find out
why the voices aren’t here anymore - and if they’ll come back.

Christine put her hand on Eric’s shoulder in support.  “I think it might
help, Eric - but if you don’t want to, I support you all the way.  I’m not
sure I’d want someone in my head.”

“Will you be reading my thoughts, Maeve?  Or something else?  I’m not
sure I like the idea of baring my soul to someone without knowing them much
better, if you know what I mean.”

“I would try not to do that, if I can help it.  Mainly, I’d be trying to
find the source of your voices, and why they aren’t there right now - I would
try to avoid reading your mind as best I could, but I can’t make any promises
that something wouldn’t pop through.”  Maeve said.  “It’s the best
answer I can give.”

“I guess I’m in.” said Eric.  “You’ve already done something in there
before, at the clinic - and that didn’t turn out so bad.  I think we
should try it.”

“When we reach the cairns south of the House of Broken Dreams then.
Should be about an hour or so.”

The three walked on, talked out for the moment.  Only the crunch of dead,
frozen leaves under their feet and the call of some winter birds was heard in
the crisp air.  The sun showed it was early to mid afternoon.

*
*          *

Kai waited behind some brush, near a pair of stone cairns - burial mounds for
some hapless souls who died at the House of Broken Dreams in years past.
If they had been given a marker, it had long since been removed or rotted
away.  Damned shame, Kai thought.  To have an unmarked
grave, and not be remembered by anyone - just another nameless soul, forgotten.
Kai always knew he wanted to marry one day, and have grandchildren to tell tall
tales to on cold winter days such as this one.   Of course, trying to
find romance while dodging an assassin’s knife with Maeve is a lot easier said
than done.   He had thought of trying to forge something with Maeve
in the past, but they were just too different.  Maeve was cold - she
needed to be, to get her job done - but that same coldness made it difficult
for anyone to get to know her well, or become close to her in any way,
including romantic.  After a while, he just decided to be her friend
instead, which made their working relationship much easier in the end.  I
just wonder where in the seven hells they are!  They should have been here
by now...

Suddenly, he heard something carried on the wind, south of his camp - the quiet
chuckle of someone hearing a joke, and the sound of footsteps on snow.  He
crouched down and scanned the area - he was too close to the House of Broken
Dreams to be careless now.   A few moments later, he relaxed as
Maeve, Christine and Eric came into view from around the bend of the
river.  Eric was chuckling at some joke, and they seemed in good spirits,
if worn out.  Good.  At least that means they didn’t have any
nasty encounters.   Kai had almost not been as lucky.

“Hey!  Over here!”  He called quietly, so his voice wouldn’t
carry.  Christine heard him first, and when she looked over he waved his
arms.  They saw, and moved towards him.   A few minutes later
had them clustered about the two cairns, resting, as he broke out some food and
waterskins so they could eat and drink a bit while they rested.

“Well met.”  Said Maeve.  “How did your journey go?  Anything
interesting happen?”

“Well almost.  I was about a mile from where our camp was when we fought
Sir Andred and his men, when I was nearly spotted by a pair of men combing the
area.  Lucky for me they didn’t have dogs, or I might not be here right
now.  I suspect they’re looking for us - and I saw signs of more men in
and around that area.  If we have to flee, it would be best to flee north
or east if we wish to avoid a confrontation.”

“That puts us towards either Yaskar or Madragoor, Kai.  Neither of them
are good choices at the moment.”  Maeve said.  “We may have to risk a
confrontation.”

“Why?”  Asked Christine.  “We came this far, figuring we’d get an
explanation - how about explaining things for us?”

Kai nodded in agreement.  “It’s only fair Maeve - we can’t keep them in
the dark.”  He waited until Maeve nodded too, and continued.  “We are
going to the House of Broken Dreams to kill the mageborn dreamers, because we
believe that Vargas is using them to search other worlds - like yours - for a
lost Goddess, Tiamat.  If he can find her and wake her or bring her
location back here, Hrask will eventually find her and their reunion will spell
the end for our people.  After we are done, we will all flee to a place
where Maeve believes we can travel without being detected to Arathel, where we
can inform the church of Bishop Vargas’s treason, and not risk being caught by
his men.”

“And,” continued Maeve, “Once we get to Arathel, we can get you some training
so that you should be able to go home, if you want.”

“Should?!”  Eric and Christine both yelped at the same time.

“Well, I think you and the Dreamer who Vargas used to send the demon to your
world are linked somehow - and I suspect it might have been that link that let you
find Mercia in the Void, Eric - otherwise I’m sure you would have been lost and
we would all have died.  I think you used her like a beacon or a
lighthouse to guide you here - and if she’s dead, you might not be able to
navigate your way home.”

“So we might be stuck here forever!?  You just decided to tell us
now?”  Eric yelled, his voice clearly upset and angry.   “We
thought you were trying to help us!”

I knew this was coming eventually, Maeve thought, looking upset as well.
“I do want to try and help you - I really do, Eric!”

“Damned funny way of showing it!”  Christine retorted.

“By the gods, will you give me a chance to explain?”  Maeve yelled
back.  “And while you’re at it, yell louder so Vargas and his men can’t possibly
miss us if they’re within five miles of us.”

Christine and Maeve stared daggers at each other, while Eric just looked angry
and upset.  A few moments passed, and tensions died down a bit.

“All right Maeve... explain away.”  Eric said taking a deep breath to calm
himself.

“You know we have to kill the Dreamers - I’ve already explained why.  With
Eric explaining that there was a dead goddess on your world named Tiamat as
well, who may very well be the same Tiamat that left our world at the dawn of
time, there is even more reason.   The sooner we sever the link
between your world and our world, the more likely we can foil Vargas’s plot and
keep him from setting into motion events that could destroy our country and our
people.”

“So we’re just casualties of war... is that it?”  Asked Eric.  “You
can’t risk him using the Dreamer to find the way to Earth, so you kill her -
even if it traps us here forever?”

Maeve shook her head.  “You don’t understand Eric!  He doesn’t need
her to find your world - he needs YOU.  You should have an innate sense of
where ‘home’ is in the Void - but that sense will be stronger if the Dreamer is
alive.  She needs to be killed so that he can’t use her to find you -
because frankly the safest way to keep him from finding your world is to kill
you, not her - and I don’t particularly want to kill either of you, dammit!”

“You mean you’d kill...”  Christine began.

“Let me finish!  I need to say this, because it took a lot to get it out
in the open.   I like Eric - he reminds me of my brother as he would
have been today, if he hadn’t been killed.  My duty, strictly speaking
required me to kill Eric as soon as I discovered what he was.  Obviously I
didn’t.  Instead I’m looking for another way - one that keeps him
alive.”  Maeve turned from Christine to Eric and explained to them
both.  “If that way keeps Eric... you... alive, then I consider that a
win, even if you’re trapped here.  I promise I’ll do everything I can to
help you get back to your world and to your lives there, but if that means
killing the Dreamer then waiting a half-dozen years for you to be trained
enough to go home on your own initiative, then so be it.  At least you’ll
be alive.  At least I won’t have to kill you.  I don’t think I could
if I had to.”

Eric and Christine stood there, mute in shock.  Christine’s jaw was agape
at Maeve openly confirming a large number of her suspicions.   “So
you admit you’ve had the thought that you might have to kill us in the back of
your mind all this time?”

Maeve nodded, sadly.  “Yes.”

Eric was mute, stunned with the admission.  Tears ran down his face, and
he confronted Maeve. “Why not just kill us then.  Why not just kill us
now.  It’s your World, your Gods and Humanity you’d be protecting.
Why not just slit my throat?  It would be easy.”  Eric pulled open
his coat, and pulled his shirt and collar away from the side of his neck.

It was Maeve’s turn to be stunned into silence.  “I can’t.  Besides
the fact you remind me strongly of my younger brother, whom I loved dearly, and
besides the fact you’re innocents in all this - caught up by the actions of
forces you couldn’t control, and besides the fact I often am called upon to
kill for my Faith and my Country... I don’t see myself as a murderer, and I
don’t kill when I don’t have to.  I don’t enjoy it - in fact it makes me
sick.   I drink to forget, and I act like a cold-hearted bitch to
keep people from getting too close to see how much it hurts me to do my
job.   Yet I do my job because I know it needs to be done, and that
for some reason the Council of Hierarchs has the belief in me to get what needs
to be done, done.  I need that belief - I need to know that people trust
me for something.  I do my job because the Country I love needs me - and
because they are good people doing good things.”

Christine went to Eric, and pulled his coat shut.  “Eric... no, it’s not
right.”   Eric allowed her to close his coat, tears still running
down his face.  Christine turned to Maeve.   “So now what?
What if you kill all these Dreamers and then your Church says you need to kill
Eric, just to make sure?  What then?  Will you kill him, or help us
get home?”

Maeve looked at them both, and then Kai, who looked just as upset, sad and
angry as the other two.  Maeve herself looked grave, and muttered a quick
prayer, even though she hadn’t felt the warmth of the God’s nearness in over
five years.   “No, I won’t kill him or you on the church’s orders -
which I doubt they would ever give.  If it came to that I would find a way
to flee Valris with the two of you, and train you myself - or assist you in
finding trainers so that you can attempt to go home yourself.  I swear it,
on my honor, and my eternal soul in front of the entire Divine Familia, that I
will do everything in my power to help you in this endeavor, for as long as it
takes, or until you decide you don’t want to go home!”  Even though she
had lost a great deal of her faith, Maeve took her oath of honor just as
seriously.  She would keep this promise, or die trying.

Eric looked at Christine, who looked back at Eric.  “I guess we can’t ask
anything more, then.  If there is a way to try and take the Dreamer linked
to me with us, can we at least attempt it before you decide to kill
her?   If we have to... well, you know... you can do it later.
Can we at least try that, first?”

Maeve looked at Kai, and from the look on his face, she knew that’s what he
wanted too - at least a chance to avoid killing at least one more person.
He was right - she had been wrong.  “All right.  But if things go to
hell, we may have no choice after all.”

Kai smiled.  “You won’t regret this, Maeve.”

“Gods I hope not.”   She replied.   “There’s just one thing
that I think needs to be said.  Eric, you said Tiamat was cut in two and
half her body made your world, and half made the heavens, right?”

“Yes...”  Eric answered hesitantly, not sure where the question was going.

“Vargas will attempt to first contact Tiamat, either through magic or by
actually going to your world.  When he finds her dead, he will try to
resurrect her.  What do you think will happen to your world - and your
Gods - when She comes back and when Hrask turns his attention to your homes and
your people for slaying her all those thousands of years ago?”

Eric and Christine first thought was dismissal -  that the entire idea was
ridiculous - until they remembered that Eric had opened a door without touching
it and brought them from their Earth to another world through magic
powers.  They thought again, and shuddered at that thought.

“That is another reason - one relevant to your own interests - to prevent
Vargas from finding how to get to your world.”  Maeve said.  “... and
that’s all I’ll say on the matter for now.  I just figured as long as we
were airing our dirty laundry about his whole situation, it too needed to be
said.”

“Are you always this cheerful?”  Asked Eric.

Kai answered for her.  “Not really - you should see her when she’s being a
pessimist.”  He was totally deadpan when he said it - so much so that Eric
and Christine, for a moment believed him.  When they realized he was being
sarcastic, the humor of the answer struck them, and they laughed.  All of
them could feel some of the tension that had been building drain away, and felt
better for it.  Maeve even made motions as if she was going to slap Kai
upside the head.

Kai smiled, and clapped his hand onto Eric’s shoulder.  “Let’s rest a
moment, and gather our thoughts before we move forward and attempt to finish
the next step of this awful but necessary endeavour.  I think it would do
us all some good.”

And really, there was nothing more to say.

Chapter 13 - Hidden Secrets

Vargas looked over the small private room where Mistress Awai had prepared the
young Valdan woman he kept calling the Bridge for delving.  Awai had had
the Dreamer’s hair tied back out of her face, and she had her dressed in a
plain thick cotton shift.  Her arms were strapped down to prevent her from
falling off the bed she lay sleeping upon.    You know,
he thought.  I’ve been searching for a Dreamer that might find what I
seek for several years, and now that I’ve found her I don’t even know the name
she was called before she fell ill.  I wonder if Awai has any record of
her?  I suppose it doesn’t matter - soon I’ll have her Anchor and all this
will be behind us.  He daydreamed for a few moments of the riches, and
of the rewards he and Awai would gain for succeeding in finding and
resurrecting Hrask’s mate.

Vargas was shaken from his pleasant reverie by the arrival of Mistress Awai and
two young male acolytes.  They each carried a wrapped bundle of smooth
tanned leather, and placed it on a side table, then knelt on the floor next to
the Dreamer’s bed, ready to assist in restraining her.  The young men were
dressed in the long grey robes of their sinister faith, and wore black disc
necklaces marking their status as junior priests.

Awai began un-wrapping one of the bundles.  Inside was a set of three
blocks of smoky red incense.  “The incense’s smoke will assist in keeping
the Dreamer’s madness at bay, while you delve her, your Grace.”  Awai
said.  Vargas looked concerned for a moment at the two young men, but Awai
shook her head.  “I have cautioned them of the dangers of speaking about
what they see here, of what they may hear here.  They know the risk of
revealing our secrets - they pose no threat.”

Vargas studied the two young men, and both looked nervous and scared.  Not
nearly scared enough, though, he thought.  Not nearly enough.
“I understand you know how to keep secrets.  That’s good, because I want
you to understand what will occur to you both - and to all of us - if you tell
anyone... ANYONE... about what you may see or hear in this room, or what has
transpired here in recent days.   The Askelinians will come, and take
us - imprison us, and declare us Heretics.  They will brand us with hot
irons, and cut out our tongues, so that we may not utter heresies, nor cry out
to our gods for succour.  They will burn out our eyes with hot irons, so
that we may never see their blessed sun, or moon, or stars again.  And
after they have mutilated us horribly in this fashion, they will drive us from
the city or town in which judgement was passed, to wander as blind, mute
heretics until we find safe haven outside Valris, or are slain by the faithful,
or by wild beasts, or inclement weather.  Do you understand the gravity of
what we do here?”

The two men looked shaken by the graphic description Vargas had just
given.  One said haltingly  “Yes milord... we will be silent on this
matter.”  The other just nodded, and looked terrified.

“Good, for if I hear even a whisper passing amongst the acolytes of anything
that has occurred here in the past month I will kill you both myself, if
Mistress Awai doesn’t do it for me.”   Vargas watched them
both.  Now they seem appropriately frightened.

While Vargas had been intimidating her acolytes, Mistress Awai had been
preparing and lighting the blocks of incense, now smoking in small brass
censers placed on tables around the room.  “The incense will work for
about an hour, Your Grace.  I have enough that we might be able to extend
its effects for perhaps another twenty minutes, but regardless we should begin
soon.”

Vargas moved to stand near the right side of the Dreamers bed, while Awai moved
to the left.  He concentrated, achieving his Nairya in seconds, and then
while still in his trance, went deeper and formed a shield of mental force, a
barrier that should protect him from the worst if his control should
fail.  I should have done this before, Vargas thought.  I
was overconfident - and I was foolish.  No more.  No more
chances.  Awai and I will succeed, or die trying!   Awai had
already calmed the Dreamer with the incense, and probably other drugs or
sedatives, and was using her Gifts to open the way for him.

Entering the Dreamer’s mind was simple - there was no resistance - and as his consciousness
formed within her mindscape, he saw again the barren tableau of her empty
mind.  I wonder what could have caused all this destruction?  He
mused.   This is why sorcerers should be trained, instead of being
feared.  She may have had much promise.  A pity.   Still,
this is not why I came, he thought.  Vargas sought about and found the
link between the Dreamer and her Anchor.  It was strong as before - but
somewhat different, like something had changed.  No matter - in finding
her anchor, we will find what we seek.  He followed the link like a
guide through her mind, and soon his thought-form was racing along its winding
paths towards wherever the Anchor was hiding.

The incense was working, but only barely; without the added protection of his
mind-shield, Vargas knew he would have been susceptible to the Dreamers call -
but now, it was a mere inconvenience.  As he travelled along the link
towards the Anchor’s mind, he felt and saw strange images before his eyes -
strange carriages without horses drawing them, moving at unbelievable speeds on
hundreds of roads paved without stones, strange weapons that spat death with no
effort, and images of fear and whispers of voices - voices he knew too
well.  The demon was right... this one was being watched by them, and has
been for some time.  I was lucky to survive its wrath.  Vargas
shuddered at the memory of what the Demon stole from him as price for his
failure to contain and control it.   It was not a pleasant memory,
but it passed quickly and he moved onward.

Just as he was nearing the end, he felt an odd resistance in the Anchor’s mind
- like his mind was shielded, which was obviously not his own work.
He slowed his pace and tried to identify who was guarding the young man’s mind...
Maeve Varda!  Well, well... she’s still alive... just not for long!
He tried to push past the mental shield Maeve had erected within the young
man’s mind, but it was surprisingly difficult.    She was
obviously very skilled in Mind magic, in addition to any other talents she
might have.  Maeve’s shield is good... very good.  He
thought.  She might even be the equal of a Lesser Adept in that
Word.  Still, that won’t save her from me.  We have unfinished
business, Maeve Varda.

Vargas paused a moment, to gather his strength.  I need to see where Maeve
and the Anchor are, or the point of this delving is lost.  Gathering his
power, he pushed again - it would probably cause the both of them significant
pain, but that was neither here nor there.  Maeve’s mind shield buckled,
and he could see trees, a river - some cairn stones, and two others people with
Maeve and the Anchor... Eric was his name.   Vargas recognized the
place his quarry was hiding.   Ah... the Graveyard.

Vargas was going to try to find more information, when he was struck by a blow
of mental force, and the mental link he had with the Anchor...  Eric ...
was severed.   His mental shield protected him from the brunt of the
attack, but he reeled and clutched his head, his head pounding with a fierce
headache.  As he collected his thoughts, he was forced to re-evaluate
Maeve Varda’s abilities.   Maeve keeps being full of surprises,
he thought.  I’ll just have to show her a few of my own, when we meet
again.

Awai realized the mental link between Vargas and the Anchor was broken, and
rushed to his side.  “Are you well?  There was a moment when the
Dreamer spoke - whispers of dark things came from her mouth near the end, like
voices.  Is everything well?”

“Yes, Awai - and your incense combined with my talents perfectly - thank
you.  For some reason, Maeve has brought the Anchor - a man named Eric -
here, to the graveyard where you bury the Dreamers and Acolytes that die
here.  Perhaps she intends to try and kill me?   She will fail
of course, and in so doing she has brought Eric here, saving us the need to
track him down and capture him.  They are not alone - at least one other
man and woman are with Maeve and Eric, but they have only one horse.
Unless they can fly, which I heartily doubt, there is no way we cannot
intercept them if you send your men immediately.”

Awai grinned from ear to ear; it was not a pleasant grin - it spoke of
happiness caused by pain, and glee at the misfortune of others.  “At once
my love.  They will be sent at once.”

*
*          *

Eric, Maeve, Kai and Christine rested a while by the cairn stones, each taking
a while to digest the information they had learned.   Eric and
Christine were the most affected, which was understandable, but Kai and Maeve
were far from unscathed.    Maeve looked the most troubled
between her and Kai, but tried to hide it as best she could.
Eventually, the silence was too uncomfortable, and Maeve spoke up.

“Eric, I mentioned before that I was hoping I could use magic to look inside
your mind, to see what caused your voices to suddenly stop.  I know you
probably hate me right now, but it might answer for all of us why you haven’t
heard the voices since you arrived.”

“I don’t hate you, Maeve.”  Eric said.  “I don’t know what to
think.  I’m scared, I’m cold, and I’m wounded.  Christine and I are
stuck on another world and might never get home - and you yourself admitted
that the safest, best way to protect my world and yours is for me to be
dead.   The voices that tortured me for years vanished as soon as I
arrived in this world, for no reason as far as I can tell, and now I can do
magic.  I’m confused, upset and angry - but I want to live, and I want to go
home, and most of all I want answers.”  Eric shook his head.  “I just
want to know why all this happened in the first place.  I’m willing to let
you do your thing in my mind, just as long as you do your best to stay out of
my thoughts, Okay?”

“Deal.”  Maeve looked relieved

Eric couldn’t tell if her relief was because he agreed to her mind reading, or
if it was because he said he didn’t hate her.  Maybe a little of both?
He thought.  Either way, let’s do this.  “What do I have to
do?”

“Just sit comfortably, and try to relax and clear your mind of as much thought
as you can.  The more you think about things, the harder it is to read and
see.  It’s like a room - if it’s clean, you can find things easily.
If its cluttered, everything takes ten times as long to find.”
Maeve sat behind Eric, sitting cross legged, trying to ignore the cold of the
snow on her legs.   “Think about a candle in a dark room, and focus
on the flame.  Ignore everything else except the flame.  It should
help.”

Eric tried to relax, but it was much harder to clear his mind than he thought
it would be.  There were too many emotions roiling around with his fear
and confusion to make it easy.   He concentrated on the candle, like
Maeve said.  At first it was difficult - he kept being distracted by the
flickering shadows the candle gave off, or by wisps of past memories and fears
cropping up, and of the pain in his leg where he had been bitten.   C’mon
Eric, focus!  He thought to himself.  You opened a door from
thirty feet away... you can do this.  It’s just a candle.
A few moments later, he was able to hold the candle steady in his mind, and
although there were minor distractions and flickers of thought, he was able to
hold most of it at bay.

*
*          *

Maeve felt his turmoil as she entered her Nairya, and muttered a spell to allow
her to scan his mind.   Her thought-form grew in his mind, and she
became aware of his thoughts.  His mind was calming quickly, and clearing
of extraneous thought.  “Good, Eric - just like that.  Keep it
up.”  She said aloud.   As she used her Sight to examine his
mindscape she extended her senses with a minor probe to see what might lie
beneath the surface, to look for damage or oddities that might indicate whether
the source of Eric’s voices were based on insanity or some other, stranger
reason.  She also began erecting a mental barrier to prevent any outside
sources of distraction from interrupting her work.

His mindscape looks normal, Maeve thought.  It has no deformations - no
alterations or illnesses.  Still, something is... off.   She
looked carefully, focussing her Sight - and then she saw it - the Link, between
Eric and the Dreamer.  It shone in his mind like a bonfire, and seemed
strong, like the cables holding great tallships to their moorings, if those
cables were made of iron or steel.   Maeve gawked in wonder.
How could such a strong link between two people who have never met be
formed?  It seems impossible - but there it is.   I wonder if
Eric can feel it in his mind?  It might have been there so long he can’t
tell anymore...  Maeve pondered it a moment, and then a flash of
realization hit her!   Maybe he wasn’t hearing voices of unknown
origin - maybe he was hearing what the Dreamer heard.  Eric called out to
me in Valdan, in the sanatorium where I found him, before I did any magic to
help understand him!  He said ‘Ladies of Mercy, Help me.  Please,
Help me!’ - the last phrase I screamed before being dragged into the Void by
the Demon summoned by Vargas.   The only way he could possibly know
that phrase was if he somehow heard it through the Dreamer!

Maeve was about to tell the others her revelation, when she felt a probe
against her mental shields - and she didn’t know anyone who might be probing
Eric except... Vargas!  He was trying to find them through Eric!
Maeve threw all her strength into her mind shield, both to protect Eric and
herself, and to try and conceal their location from the invading mind.
She could feel the force behind the invading probe - it was very strong and
very skilled.  I won’t be able to keep him out for long.  Maybe
Eric can help - no dammit, I don’t have time to teach him...

Suddenly, the mental force gave a firm shove, and Maeve was stunned by a blast
of pain, gasping from the shock of it, nearly reeling.  She heard Eric
respond the same, and she felt Vargas’s poisoned mind seeing all of them,
learning their location.  Eric’s thoughts were escaping his control, and
she could feel the Dreamers confusion creeping in through the link as
well.  I have to sever his connection before Vargas learns too much!
She gathered her focus, and despite flitting shadows of thoughts and memories,
poured everything she had into blasting the connection between Vargas and Eric.

The bolt of mental force struck home, and she felt the link between Vargas and
Eric sever instantly - and then rebound magnified as her bolt hit the Link
between Eric and the Dreamer.  The magical backlash felt almost three times
as strong as the one she sent out, and neither Maeve nor Eric had time to do
anything except yell in pain as mental energy stunned them both into
unconsciousness.

Kai and Christine had been alternating between keeping guard and watching Maeve
scan Eric’s mind for the last several minutes.  Then without warning they
both groaned with pain simultaneously and then yelled as if struck, and passed
out.  Christine was on her feet in seconds, at Eric’s side trying to wake
him and see if he was alright.  Kai bolted to Maeve’s side, and did the
same.

“What happened?”  Christine yelled, fear in her voice.  “What’s going
on?”

“I don’t know, Christine - maybe they were attacked?  Grab some snow, and
try and wake them - I have the feeling this place may no longer be safe for us
to rest.”   Kai grabbed a small handful of snow and tried to wake his
friend.  C’mon, Maeve!  Wake up!  What in the seven hells
happened?

*
*          *

Eric and Maeve drifted in merciful blackness for a short while, then slowly
began the rise to consciousness, like climbing towards the light from a deep,
dark pit.  As they struggled to wake, their minds were assailed with
images and visions from each others life, stray thoughts and memories broken
loose by the feedback from Maeve and Vargas’s mental assault.

Maeve began to wake first, her mind being more resilient to mental attacks due
to her training as a sorcerer.  Her thoughts drifted - against her will -
and she began to see flashes of what must have been pieces of Eric’s
life.   She saw Eric as a boy of maybe 12 years of age, standing in
front of a mirror at least six feet tall, wearing what looked to Maeve like
clothing more fit for a girl.  A few moments later, an attractive woman
with long brown hair - Laura, Eric’s mother - found him and scolded him warning
of the beating, both verbal and physical that would happen if his father found
out what he had done.  Eric said nothing, but Maeve felt a sense of loss
and shame.  Goddess!  Eric is Tuaithal Breithe! She thought.
The image dissolved to one far more horrific.  Eric, this time around the
age of 15 years, was sitting in the kitchen in his home when a hard-faced man -
his father, Anders - entered the room.  It seemed like a storm of rage
blew in on thunderheads of grief and frustration.  He put down the phone
he had been talking into, and looked into Eric’s face and told him “Your mother
is dead, Eric, and it’s your fault.  If you’d been stronger, and able to
take care of yourself like a man, she would have been able to take care of
herself instead of worrying about you.  You were weak, and now she’s
dead.  I hate you, and I’ll hate you until the day I die.”

Maeve was shocked by the venom in Ander’s voice, and the sentiment.  What
shook her more was how she felt that sentiment resonate within her, and stir up
memories she would rather left un-touched.   More visions flitted by
- images of Eric on the streets, babbling and crying and suffering with
seizures and voices - horrific voices Maeve could hear only vaguely, but were
enough to chill her to the bone.  She had a strong impression two kindly
men took Eric under their wing, and helped him cope on the street.  Norm...
Dave.   At first she didn’t know how they fit into Eric’s life,
but the images changed again, and she saw Norm and Dave talk Eric back from the
edge of a platform - a subway platform, whatever that was, and kept Eric from
throwing himself in front of a train when he was being tortured by his
voices.  Then she saw and felt Eric’s grief and horror as she watched Norm
and Dave die in a fire set by a gang of murderous young thugs.

She felt cold - like ice and water on her face and neck.   The shock
of the cold broke the string of mental images, and finally Maeve was able to
pull herself free from the remnants of Eric’s thoughts.  She sat up,
gasping for breath, nearly overwhelmed by all the images and feelings that had
run through her.  She felt off-balance, like trying to balance on two legs
of a stool which was missing its third, much needed leg.

“Maeve!  Are you all right?”  Kai called to her, his hands gently
shaking Maeve’s shoulders as if to wake her.  “You and Eric were just sitting
there, while you delved and then you both shrieked and passed out.  What
in the seven hells happened?”

Maeve gathered her thoughts for a moment, and realized she was almost prone on
the snow, with melting snow dripping from her face down her neck and onto her
shirt.  Christine was trying desperately to wake Eric, both with shaking,
talking and cold handfuls of snow.   She shook her head from her
strange reverie.  “We’re in danger.  Bishop Vargas chose the same
time I was delving into Eric’s mind to try and track him down through Eric’s
Dreamer.  He knows where we are, or I’ll eat my shoes.  We need to
move, and quickly.”

Meanwhile, Eric struggled through his own darkness, seeing bits and pieces of
Maeve’s life pass before his eyes.  He saw Maeve as a young girl - maybe
the age of 13, sitting in what could only be a cathedral.  Her name was
called by a friendly looking priest dressed in red and gold, and a young lady
priestess dressed in black and green.  Maeve approached, and was blessed
by them both - one a Priest of Isundal the Sky-father, and the other a
Priestess of Askeline, the Maiden, Mother and Crone. She looked back towards
the crowd with happiness, seeing her brother Nile who was only 6 years old, and
her mother Gillian in her black Magistrates robes.   They both looked
so proud, and Eric could feel Maeve only wanted to make them prouder
still.  He could feel Maeve’s faith surround her, like armor.  It was
an unfamiliar feeling - but a pleasant one.  He felt safe.

The happy vision drifted off, and was replaced by a far darker one - Maeve,
hurtling through the Void in the clutches of the Demon that brought her to
Earth.  Maeve was screaming in terror, paralysed by fear and Eric felt all
of it - the familiarity and intenseness of the emotions almost doubled him
over, and it was only after he fought through the fear he saw what the Demon
was using as a guide through the Void - a cable of light, several inches
across.  The cord looked like it stretched forever in either direction
away from the Demon, and yet the Demon flew beside it without effort.
That cord - somehow it was using that to find me.  Eric thought.  Is
that the link between me and the Dreamer?   As the Demon flew onward,
he saw flitting shadows, touching the cord, crowding around it like moths that
cluster near a lamp-post on a dark evening.  As the creatures touched the
cord, they whispered dark and evil things, things that carried along the cord
like when two kids tied a string to two cans to make a phone.  They’re
tapping into the link!  The Demons in the Void are my voices!

Eric’s revelation nearly woke him, and his body shifted and thrashed as if held
in a nightmare.  The vision of the Demon and Maeve cleared, to show Maeve
and her brother Nile on a picnic.  It seemed like a pleasant, idyllic day
- but from what he already knew of Maeve, it was going to end badly.  He
watched the horrible scene play out - the Hserinyar Fallen approaching and
drawing the pistol, Maeve trying to dodge and failing, followed by Nile shoving
her aside and taking the poisoned steel dart.   Something’s wrong.
Eric thought.  This doesn’t seem right.  This isn’t how it
happened.   He examined the memory a bit more, and noticed
something was wrong - it was like a sheet of film that distorted the image was
placed over the memory, for whatever reason he didn’t know.  All he knew
was that Maeve’s memory was not real - it had been somehow changed, although by
who and for what reasons he did not know.

Without thinking, he tried to pull the film back to reveal the truth, and
yelped as his fingers were shocked, and his body coursed with energy.  He
felt like he imagined how being tased would feel - all numb and tingly and
painful.  He couldn’t see the entire picture through the film - but even
the small glimpse he got made him feel like Maeve was lying to them all - about
something so important, that if she could lie about whatever was concealed by
that cloudy film over her mind, she could lie about anything.  His dismay
was so traumatic that at that point Eric woke up as well, coughing and
sputtering, looking very confused, unsure about what he saw.

“Are you all right Eric?”  Christine asked.  “You and Maeve passed
out.”

“I’m fine - just a headache.”  Eric lied.  He got to his feet and
brushed the partially melted snow off his face and jacket.  “I take it all
did not go well?”  Eric said, while clutching his aching head.

If I saw all that, she thought, I wonder what Eric
saw?  Eric was watching her with a strange look - like he didn’t know
what to make of her, like he did a few hours ago when she said her mission
would be more effective if he was dead.  I hope I get a chance to
explain whatever he saw, Maeve thought.  We seemed to be rebuilding
some trust - I don’t want to throw that away.

“Yes and no.”  Maeve said.  “I was able to look inside your mind, and
the good news is that I don’t think you’re insane or mentally ill.  I
think the voices you heard in part came from the Dreamer or people around the
Dreamer, like when you overhear a conversation.”  She paused a moment to
let that sink in, and saw Eric and Christine’s eyes go wide.  Before they
burst in with a dozen questions each, she continued.  “The bad news is
that Bishop Vargas chose the same moment I was delving you to use the Dreamer
to try and track you down, Eric.  There seems to be a strong bond of some
type between you and the Dreamer - and I guess it works both ways.  He
probably knows where we are - so we can expect company, and not the friendly
kind, very soon.”

Christine looked panicked.  “What do we do?  Will we have to
fight?”  It wasn’t that Christine was a coward - she was far from
one.  She had seen things - and had to deal with things as a social worker
that would make many people go pale or faint, either from fear or
disgust.  She just had little to no experience in how to fight or how to
survive a fight.

Kai just moved to his pack and calmly strung his bow.  “We probably will
have to fight, Christine.  If it comes to that, take cover and let Maeve
and I do what we can, and if you see a chance for a cheap shot with your
dagger, then take it.  Otherwise, stay out of it if you can.”

Maeve nodded in agreement.  “If you have more of that venom you sprayed
into Sir Andred’s face, it might prove handy Christine.  Eric, you should
stay back too...”

“No.”

While Kai simply looked impressed with Eric’s attitude, Maeve and Christine
looked surprised at Eric’s refusal - and his tone, which was deadly
serious.  “First, I know how to fight, at least with a knife.  I can
help.   Second, I have a surprise they might not expect - I’m not a
bad shot.”  Eric pulled the 9mm pistol from his jacket pocket, and checked
the ammunition in its clip.  He didn’t fail to note the surprise on
Maeve’s face which she quickly tried to hide.   So she did know it
was a weapon, and kept it from us.  That doesn’t improve my feelings about
her.

“Shooting in a gunfight is a lot different than shooting on a range!”
Christine said.

“I know, Christine.  Trust me, I’m not looking forward to this - but I’m
not going to make Kai and Maeve responsible for both of us and do
nothing.  What happens if they fall?  Do we give up - do we
die?  I’m not going to let that bastard Vargas get away with this - and if
I need to shoot a few of his goons to get to him, all the better.”

Christine nodded, the realization that an unavoidable conflict was coming
slowly sinking in.  “Sorry, Eric.  I’m just not used to this.  I
guess we have to try to find a way to survive, even if we have to fight.”
She turned to Kai and Maeve.  “What happens if we kill someone?  What
do we do?”

Maeve quipped  “Pull the dead person off your knife and get ready to take
another swing,” only partially joking.

Kai interrupted and said “I assume you mean how do I cope with killing another
person?”

Christine nodded.

“I had trouble with that for a long time.”  Kai said.  “Many warriors
do.  Faith helps, as does the knowledge that what you did, you did for
good reasons and were in danger.  Defending yourself is never a crime as
far as I’m concerned.”  He walked over to Christine and held her shoulder
as if to steady her.  “What I have more trouble with is when I’m forced to
kill for poor reasons, or when it’s not in defence of self, country or
faith.  Then, I’m afraid I’m as lost as the next person.  It all
comes down to whether or not you have the conviction that what you did was
right - and that given the same circumstances, you would do it again.  If
you can say that, then it doesn’t matter if you kill one, or ten... or ten
thousand - the answer is the same, and you will be able to find peace.  If
not, guilt will eat at you, and dealing with what you have done may end with
your death, either through drink or suicide or grief.   It is a
question that has no easy answer, and an answer that can only come from within
you.”

Christine looked a little numb.  “That’s kind of hard to take in all at
once, Kai.”

“Perhaps - but it’s the only answer I have.  Prepare yourself - we need to
move quickly.”  Kai said.   “Maeve, its about a mile to the
House of Broken Dreams...  If Vargas and his men know our location we
don’t have much time to prepare.”

Maeve nodded, and turned to Eric.  “Are you any good with that weapon?”

“Not bad on a range... in real life, I guess we’ll find out.”  Eric said,
grimly.

“Fair enough.”  Maeve replied.  “Christine, take the horse and hide
it somewhere - we might need it to make a quick escape, and we’ll definitely
need it if we have to bring the Dreamer with us.  Eric, find some cover
and get ready with that weapon.”

Their small band moved to take cover amongst the cairn stones, and Christine
concealed their stolen horse behind some small trees and shrubs, then grabbed
what was left of her can of pepperspray and readied her knife, just in case.
Kai had his recurved bow strung and several arrows ready at hand.  Maeve
had her shortsword ready, and the four of them crouched behind the cairn
stones, waiting.

Eric waited, scared sick with tension.   The revelation that he
wasn’t schizophrenic - that his voices were demonic beings sending messages
along the link he had with the Dreamer, along with things she heard here in
Mercia - was a blessing, which threatened to be taken away if he didn’t survive
the coming battle.   He felt elation mixed with fear and dread, like
he’d been given the world and someone threatened to snatch it away as he
reached for it.   Calm down, Eric!  He thought to
himself.  Get your act together.  You need to be calm to shoot -
deep breaths.   He tried taking a few deep breaths to relax himself,
but they seemed to him to be ragged gasps.  Still, they helped a bit, and
he felt steadied.

Kai raised his left hand, and gestured to Maeve and the others.  “Here
they come.”  He whispered.  “I hear them.”

Eric tried to listen for them, but couldn’t hear anything above the blood
pumping in his ears.  Then, the first few figures emerged from through a
stand of trees to the north and west of their hiding spot, about a 80 yards
away.  Eric took a quick peek through the cracks in one of the piles of
cairn stones, and thought they might be wearing leather armor, and looked like
some of them had bows or slings, and those that didn’t had either a spear or an
axe.  That leather armor might slow an arrow, Eric thought, but
I’ll bet a 9mm bullet will punch through them like a hot knife through
butter.  I’d better wait until they get a bit closer - I don’t trust my
aim at too far a distance, and they have bows, which means they could be really
dangerous if  they’re half-decent shots.

Kai motioned to them.  “It looks like they send a mixed bunch of acolytes
and guardsmen.  I don’t see Bishop Vargas anywhere, or the Lady of the
House.  I’m going to nail them with arrows - Maeve, cover me with your
blade if any get too close.  Christine, stay back if you can, but if any
of them get too close, use that venom spray you used on Andred if you think it
will help.  Eric, if your weapon can shoot them from a distance, try to
keep them getting too close to me.”

Eric and the others nodded.  I get the impression Maeve normally gives
the orders when they work together, but maybe he takes over when its outside in
the wilderness?  I guess they have it sorted out, so I might as well go
with it.   “What happens if we get separated?”

Kai and Maeve looked at each other and shrugged.  Maeve said “We
don’t.  At this point we don’t have a fallback plan - either we kill them,
or we get captured or killed.  We don’t have anywhere to run now that
they’re here.  Once they’re dealt with, we can re-evaluate our plan.”

Christine looked at Kai, a little worried.  “Can you even hit them from
here?  They seem pretty far away.”  Christine couldn’t even imagine
how much practice it would take to accurately hit the oncoming men with a bow at
that range - which was now about 40 yards or so.

“Watch me.”  Kai said.  He drew, knocked and released an arrow in one
smooth motion, his hand reaching for another arrow before his first struck
home.  One of the bowmen groaned as the arrow entered his neck above the
armor, and fell gurgling to the ground, drowning on his own blood.

The acolytes and guards gave a shout and returned fire, three guards taking aim
at Kai’s position with bows and slings while the remaining nine acolytes
charged the bands position with spears and axes.  Maeve recognized a few
of them, from her first visit to the House of Broken Dreams - a slender
Madragan girl of 17 or so years, and a pudgy man in his thirties.  Well,
well... Linna and Bel.  I guess this will be the end of our stormy
relationship.  I wonder if they’ll remember me?  She smirked,
waiting with her blade.  There was about to be all sorts of butchers work
to be done and she needed to be ready.  Arrows and sling bullets clacked
against the stones Maeve and the others were using for cover, and she saw their
archers draw back for another shot.

Meanwhile, Kai launched another arrow, taking a charging acolyte in the thigh,
dropping him to the ground, screaming.  He looked focussed, if not exactly
calm, and steadily drew, aimed, and fired over and over.  Another arrow
streaked out from Kai’s bow, catching an enemy slinger in the face, dropping
him in a spray of blood.   “They’re just about upon us, Eric!  Now
would be a good time to kill a few of them!” Kai yelled, ducking as another
volley of arrows and sling bullets spattered the rocks nearby.

Eric nodded, and stood as the last of the volley ended.  Eight
blood-crazed fanatics were charging their position with axes and spears, their
gray robes and black-disc necklaces, some with armor under those robes.  I
can’t do this... This isn’t happening.  He thought.   As
much as he wanted to deny it, he knew that it was, and that he had to follow
through.   He held the pistol with his right hand and braced it with
his left hand, and took aim on the first man - a bald man with several
tattoos.  The pistol kicked in his hand, and the sound of the shot seemed
to startle the charging acolytes - and it definitely startled Eric, even though
he had fired a gun before.  The man screamed as his right ear was torn off
in a bloody mess by the passing bullet.  Damn!  Aim, dammit, aim!
He fired again, taking the tattooed man in the chest, the 9mm bullet ripping
through the archaic leather armor with ease.  The acolytes looked
surprised, but they couldn’t slow their momentum - they would be upon them in
seconds.

Maeve called “Here they come!  Get ready!”  Without pausing she drew
her blade while Eric fired three more times, dropping another two men as their
lines closed.  Two others - archers and slingers - dropped from Kai’s
arrows, and then the rest were amongst them, slashing and stabbing.  Maeve
moved swiftly from behind a cairn stone, and dodged a spear thrust from an
acolyte she didn’t know.  Once past the spear tip, she moved up to the
acolyte and slashed him across the throat with her blade.  The acolyte
tried to scream, but all that came out was a bloody froth.  She ignored
him and moved to engage another, her face an impassive mask.

Kai dropped his bow, and drew his sword barely in time to parry a spear thrust
that would have taken him through the belly.  He fell back, and readied to
defend himself, while the female acolyte circled him warily with the spear,
looking for an opening.  Kai didn’t wait.  While they circled each
other, he grabbed his knife with his free hand and threw it at the acolyte - it
glanced off the leather breastplate she wore without harming her, but it did
throw her off her guard and he used that to get in close.  She tried to
backpedal as he closed, but he was too fast - Kai’s blade nearly took off her
left arm, and she dropped the spear, screaming as she tried in vain with her
other hand to keep her nearly severed arm attached.

A man with what looked to be a large woodaxe charged Eric, screaming a battle
cry and slashing with the weapon two-handed like he was trying to fell a
tree.  Eric dodged, barely, but tripped and fell on the rocky ground with
a groan of pain, stunned.  The acolyte moved over to finish him, and
Christine knew she had to act, or Eric was a dead man.  He raised his axe
to finish Eric off, when Christine stepped up and sprayed him full in the face
with most of what remained of her canister of pepper-spray. The acolyte
screamed in pain, clutching his face with one hand, the large axe dangling from
the other.  The crack of a gunshot at close range shocked Christine from
her freezing, and she saw Eric clutching the smoking 9mm as he fired from the
ground up at the man with the axe.  The bullet entered the screaming
acolytes face, and took off the back of his head.

“Thanks Christine!”  Eric called, and got to his feet.  Christine
tried to keep from heaving her stomach contents all over the rocks from the
grisly sight, and readied her knife and looked to see if anyone else was coming
after them.   There was still one archer, and two or three men and
women with weapons hacking and stabbing - mostly at Kai and Maeve.

Meanwhile, Bel and Linna attacked Maeve with spears.  “Maeve!”  Bel
spat.  “It will serve Linna and I well if we bring your head back with
us!”

“So you two remembered me?  Awww, that’s so sweet!”  Maeve danced
around Bel and Linna, who were menacing her with spears, trying to box her in
and flank her between them.  I guess it is nice to be remembered,
she thought sarcastically. Couldn’t they send flowers instead?
Still, Maeve was in a bit of trouble - with the rocky terrain all of them were
at risk of tripping and falling, and with two of them on her, with longer
weapons they had a distinct advantage.  Just stay alive, she
thought.  The rest will take care of itself.

She heard more than saw Kai take down the man on him, and readied herself to
attack.  The odds had just changed.  She faked one way, and then
another - but neither Linna or Bel fell for the trick - which was fine.
She wasn’t trying to hit them... she was trying to distract them.  As she
wheeled about, she saw as Kai moved up behind Bel, and Eric took aim into the
melee.  She knew it would be over soon.   “Linna, Bel?”
She asked.  “When you get to hell, save a spot for Vargas.  He won’t
be long in arriving.”

Eric took aim at the woman menacing Maeve, since Kai seemed to have the older
man targeted with his blade.  He paused, aimed, and just as he pulled the
trigger, he heard Christine’s warning yell a second too late, and his right arm
screamed with pain as an arrow from the enemy’s last archer pierced it, and
lodged halfway between his upper right arm.  The shot went wide, and Eric
screamed, dropping the gun.

Still, the gunshot had not been a total waste - Linna, Eric’s target flinched
and left an opening for Maeve, who wasn’t about to waste it.  She moved
past the spear, hoping that Kai had her back, and slashed Linna with a low
blow, that caught her just beneath the lip of her leather breastplate.
Linna screamed in pain, and dropped her spear as she tried to hold back a flood
of slimy entrails that spilled from the gash left by Maeve’s sword and she
didn’t even feel it when Maeve’s second blow took off her head.   She
turned to see Kai pulling Bel’s corpse off his blade, and Christine dragging
Eric to cover as the last bowman shot at the two outlanders again, nearly
hitting Christine, but instead getting tangled in her cloak as the arrow was
deflected by a cairn stone.

The last bowman realized he was outnumbered - and his side had lost.  He
paused a moment, as if trying to decide if discretion was the better part of
valor, and then fled.   By the time he reached the tree line, Kai had
his bow in hand and an arrow nocked and fired.  The arrow sped across the
glade just as the man plunged into the woods, and they heard a scream.

Kai looked worried.  “I don’t know if I finished him or not.  I’ll
find him - you check on Eric.”

Maeve nodded, and moved over to Christine and Eric, and tried to see how bad
Eric’s wound was.  Eric was awake, clutching his wounded arm and moaning
in pain - which was a good start, considering the alternatives.

“Hold still Eric.  I need to see how bad it is, okay?”  Maeve said,
examining the wound.  Looks like it went through without causing much
damage, but I can’t be sure.  “I’m going to use magic to see how
serious the wound is - try to stay calm for a moment.  It’ll make things
easier.”

Maeve summoned her energies, and focussed on Sight, muttering the words to a
spell which should allow her to sense the damage inflicted by the arrow that
struck Eric.   Her normal everyday vision suddenly switched as the
spell took effect, and she saw Eric’s wound.   His body glowed a
bright healthy green, except for his arm, which glowed an angry red, and his
leg where the dog bit him the night before, which was far less
intense.   The arrow wound looked dangerous, but not critical, but
Maeve checked closer, just to be sure.  She scanned below the surface with
her magical senses, trying to see if any major damage was done.  No veins
or arteries cut, no bones broken, and no venoms on the arrowhead - Eric got
lucky.  The wound will be painful, but he’ll be okay, assuming we survive
the next 48 hours.

“It’ll be okay Eric.  I don’t think anything major was damaged, but we’re
going to have to get rid of that arrow, and then bind the wound.
Christine, go through the packs Anvi sent with us and find some bandages
please.”

“You hear, Eric.”  Christine said.  “You’ll be fine.”  She began
rummaging in the backpacks for medical supplies, and brought out a pair of
rolled linen bandages and a jar of liquid that smelled vaguely of alcohol.

“Great...”  Eric said through gritted teeth.  “Get the damn thing out
already!   This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Said Maeve.  “But a lot less than leaving it in your arm.
Once we get the arrow out, we’ll need you out of your jacket so we can bandage
the wound.  Hold still - like you said, this will hurt.”  Maeve
grabbed the arrow in one hand, and with her other hand, broke the arrow near
the tip, ignoring Eric’s groan of pain.  Then, with one deliberate pull,
pulled the arrow free of Eric’s arm.

Eric groaned again as the arrow slid free - it hurt a lot - but hurt less when
it was removed.  He could feel his warm blood running down his arm, and
carefully shrugged himself out of his leather jacket.  Damn it!
He thought.  I know I’m lucky to be alive, but how am I gonna get that
cleaned and fixed?  My poor jacket!  He was just getting the pain
under control when Christine and Maeve splashed some of the alcohol on his
arm.  The shock of the pain made him gasp - the alcohol felt like fire for
a moment, and then Maeve was wrapping his arm in linen bandages.  A few
moments later she was done, and Eric tried moving his arm - it was sore, but it
felt a bit better.

“Thanks Maeve, Christine.”

“No problem.” Maeve said.  “Just try to get in less arrow-catching
practice next time, alright?”

“Heheh...  Alright.”  Eric couldn’t help but chuckle... the mental
image of himself running around the field of battle trying to dive in front of
all the arrows, and ending up looking like a pin cushion kept going through his
head.  His arm still hurt like crazy, though, and he felt a bit dizzy.

Christine pointed towards the forest’s edge.  “There’s Kai!”

“Good.”  Said Maeve.  “Then either the last guard escaped, or more
likely, didn’t get very far before Kai found him.  One less headache.”

Kai stopped halfway back, and knelt by the acolyte who took the arrow to the
leg at the beginning of the battle.  Thankfully, he had ceased screaming
in pain, and was now simply moaning and praying.  Kai motioned for Maeve
to approach, while he waited with the wounded man.

“I’ll be right back.”  Maeve said to Christine and Eric.  “Kai
probably thinks I can get some information from him.  He’s probably right,
so while I get it, you two keep guard alright?”

“Sure.”  Christine said.  Eric nodded in agreement as well.

As Maeve walked over to Kai and the wounded acolyte she intended to question,
Eric and Christine looked at the carnage that had been wrought near them.
There were bodies and bits of bodies, huge puddles of steaming hot blood on the
snow, and the stench of death on the wind.  Christine looked green around
the gills like she was going to be sick, but all Eric could see were the faces
of Norm and Dave on the dead acolytes bodies.  It’s not real, he
thought.  It’s not them.  Even though he knew it was only his
sense of guilt making him see the faces, he couldn’t control his nausea and
shock, and hurled up everything he’d eaten since breakfast.

Christine watched Eric be ill, and wondered where this was going to end.  Neither
of us has ever killed anyone before, as far as I know.  I’m freaked out an
all I did was pepperspray someone.  Eric killed five people, at least.
“You okay, Eric?”  She asked.

Eric wiped some vomit from his chin, after he stopped
coughing, and stood up.  “I don’t know, Christine.  I killed some
people, and all I can see are the faces of Norm and Dave as that gang killed
them - burnt them.  I see their faces, and I can smell the burning.
I think I’m in shock.”

Christine nodded, and came to give Eric a hug.  “I think we both
are.  I’ve never seen anyone be killed before this whole thing began
either.  And as for Norm and Dave, Eric they died less than three days ago,
and you’ve had no time to grieve.  As much as Angie would hate to admit
it, in some ways they were better father figures to you than your dad was - so
its perfectly normal for you to still be upset, or feel guilt or grief over
their deaths.   You wouldn’t be normal it you didn’t.  In effect
you lost your entire support network of friends in one day... no one can handle
that effectively.  Just give yourself time to remember them when all this
chaos is done and we hopefully get back home.”

Eric nodded, giving Christine a quick hug back.  “Thanks,
Christine.”  He paused a bit.  “Assuming we get back home.”

Christine made a sour face.  “Thanks, Eric.  We needed more good
news.”  She said sarcastically.  “Maeve’s working on that right
now.  Her plan may be crazy, but I don’t really see a better
alternative.  Do you?”

“No...  Not given what she knows or thinks she knows.  If we fled,
Vargas could use the dreamer to track us anywhere, any time he wants to.
Eventually he or his men will capture or kill us, and I get used to destroy
this world, and maybe ours.  If we confront him, we all risk our lives,
but have a chance of escaping and getting back home.”  Eric sighed.
“Given the situation, I don’t see what else we could do.”

The two of them looked across the battlefield, to where Kai stood watching the
treeline, and Maeve knelt next to their acolyte prisoner with the arrow in his
leg.  She looked like she was questioning him intently.  From the
occasional groan of pain from the man, both were pretty sure she wasn’t holding
back, and Christine saw Maeve twist the arrow in the man’s leg at least once,
eliciting a shriek from the Acolyte.  They looked away after that,
unwilling to watch or admit to themselves that Maeve was probably torturing
that man for information.

*
*          *

Maeve approached Kai and the acolyte.  Kai was simply watching the man,
making sure he couldn’t escape or do anything to harm them.  The acolyte
was alternately moaning in pain, and praying to his goddess to not let him
fall, to not let him die.   Maeve already knew he was a dead man -
and he probably knew it too, but it didn’t stop his futile prayers.

“Hi.”  Maeve said.  “I’m going to be asking you a few questions - and
you’re going to tell me answers, whether you want to or not.  When I’m
done, one of us will kill you - the only question is whether its quick and
merciful, or slow and painful.”

“I’ll see you both in Hell first!”

“Ah, he speaks!”  Maeve smirked.  “It’s a start.  Kai, please
hold him down, so he can’t squirm much.  I don’t want him trying to stab
me.”

“No problem.”  Kai grabbed the man’s arms and wrestled his hands over his
head and bound them with some leather thongs.

Maeve slipped into her Nairya with little effort, and began questioning
him.  “How many more men does Vargas and the Lady of the House have
available to them?”   She paid no attention to what he said aloud, instead
muttering the words to a Mind spell, and instead tried to look inside his mind
for the real answer.    Four men, three women - all of them
servants.  Vargas, and Awai, mistress of the House and priestess of Lady
Delirium.   Good, she thought.  Only the major players
left.

“Does he have access to any other warriors or aid?”   Maeve knew the
acolyte... Drusis was his name... resisted, so she grabbed the arrow in his
thigh and gave it a vicious twist.   As Drusis’s pain caused his
concentration to waver, Maeve was able to glean the information from his
mind.   Vargas has a magical device he uses to keep in touch with
the Knights from Ogden town - some sort of crystal.   He probably
sent for aid a while ago.  Damn, He’s got a Speaking Stone!
Maeve thought. We don’t have much time left then.  If my usual luck -
or lack of it - is with us, its probably Sir Andred and his men He’s sent for.

Maeve stewed for a moment, while Drusis yelled obscenities at her and
Kai.  “Does Bishop Vargas or Mistress Awai have any weaknesses that we might
exploit?”  She asked.  Drusis stared at her and said nothing, but his
mind could not conceal what he knew.  Everything had been going well,
until Vargas and Awai summoned the Demon.  Since then, they had been
attacked when it returned without the victim it was sent to retrieve.
After the demon’s attack, both Vargas and Awai seemed supernaturally aged,
weakened in both years and strength.   The mental image of Vargas
and Awai now, as compared to what they had been when Maeve had been captured
less than three days ago was shocking and terrifying, and made Maeve realize
just how lucky they had been that the Demon had not pursued them into the
Void.

Maeve let the battle-trance fade, and ended her spell that probed the acolytes
mind.  She felt a wash of fatigue sweep over her, and felt tired and weak
for a moment, like her limbs were made of soft noodles.  She stood, and
nodded to Kai.  “I have what we need.”

Kai nodded back.  “Fine - then let this be quick.”

The acolyte knew what was coming, and tried to give one last shriek, as Maeve
plunged her blade into his chest, killing him instantly.   His body
fell limp, and both Maeve and Kai wiped his blood off their arms and
faces.  Kai and Maeve both looked grim as they returned, ignoring
Christine and Eric’s shocked looks.

“You ... you killed him?”  Christine asked, more to confirm than to
question.

Maeve looked at her oddly, as if it had ever even been in question.  “Of
course I did.  He was our foe - and a heretic.  If we had let him
live, he might have given us away and warned Vargas, or led pursuers to where
we were.  The church would have sentenced him to a far harsher death - I
gave him a quick, and relatively merciful one in comparison.”

Christine looked ill, and Eric said “Sorry Maeve.  I think we’re just
still having difficulty in reconciling how things are done here compared to
back home.”  Eric didn’t say back home in a way to imply he thought of it
as superior - merely different.  In fact, he thought, it’s
probably as bad or worse back home.  The governments just keep it hidden
from the common citizens.  All you need to do is watch even a single spy
movie or war documentary and extrapolate from there.  Maybe we’re too
sheltered from violence - too blissfully unaware of what goes on around us
everyday as people we wish didn’t have to exist kill and be killed to protect
our way of life.

“Perhaps, but I think both of you might wish to hold back on judging us -
myself and Kai, or the Valdan people and our way of life until you know more
about it, and have seen more than the blood and terror that has stalked all of
us since three days past.  There is more to us than this violence.”

Christine wasn’t sure if that was true, but accepted it for now.
“Alright.  I’ll do my best and try not to judge - and assuming we make it
through this alive, perhaps I’ll get to see the parts of Valris and Mercia that
aren’t violent and dangerous.  Then I’ll make up my mind.”

Eric nodded, agreeing.  “I’m sure there’s more to Kai and Maeve’s people
that this, Christine.  Just think what life was like in our own middle
ages - nasty, brutish and short.  People were killed for politics,
religion, or no good reason at all - often very violently and painfully.
I think we’re seeing all the bad parts, and none of the good - and I’m willing
to wait and see if life here is better than what we’ve seen so far.  Anvi
and Maria seemed happy enough, and looked like they enjoyed their life.  Give
this place a chance.”

Kai smiled.  Eric and Christine have been through a lot - most of it bad -
and it was nice to see they were willing to give him, Maeve, and Valris a
second chance for a first impression.   I hope we’re able to help
them get home.  He thought.  I think Eric may be able to
survive here if he has to, but Christine doesn’t seem like she would adapt
well.  Too... fragile, too wrapped up in her memories of her old normal
life to accept a ‘new’ normal life.

“Fair enough.”  Maeve said.  “We don’t have much time.  Vargas
has a magical trinket that lets him talk to soldiers from Ogden town, so we
have to assume he has called for reinforcements.  It would be wise to
assume they’re already on their way, also.  We need to get to the House of
Broken Dreams quickly, complete our task, and flee before those soldiers can
arrive.”

Kai gathered their things, while Eric shrugged his bandaged arm back into his
leather jacket.  Maeve gathered a few coins and weapons from the bodies of
the slain, and Christine went to get the horse she had hidden
earlier.   No one spoke - there wasn’t much to say that hadn’t
already been said.  All that was left was to stop Vargas, kill the
Dreamers, and escape - hopefully with Eric’s Dreamer.  They left the
battle site quickly and quietly, heading north and west towards the House of
Broken Dreams.

Chapter 14 - A Dreamer Shall
Wake

It had been only twenty minutes or so since the fierce battle at the graveyard
of cairn stones.  Maeve and Kai were making good speed, but Eric’s wounded
leg seemed to be slowing him - and by default Christine as well, who was
worrying over him enough for four people.  The House of Broken Dreams
could be seen through the barren vegetation, marked by areas concealed by
numerous evergreens, including some ballnut trees.  The building itself
was about a hundred paces long and half that deep, and two stories tall.
The ground floor was made of mortared fieldstone, and the top floor of wood and
plaster, with cedar shingles on the roof - and as Maeve knew well, there were
at least a few levels of basements fashioned into dungeons beneath the
surface.   Although the building was of good construction, it seemed
squat and un-appealing from the outside, its gray walls and dull brown roof
blending in with the barren background of the snowy northern
forest.   To Maeve, it seemed like it was just a visual trick, but
the windows on the second floor of the House seemed more like many hateful, watchful
dark eyes, spying the surrounding woods for enemies.

“We’re here.”  Maeve said, looking uneasily about.  “I don’t see any
guards.  Do you, Kai?”

Kai looked.  “No - the place seems closed up tight.  No servants
wandering the grounds, no guards.  Perhaps they Bishop Vargas and the Lady
of the House threw everything they had at us, except for themselves?”

“Maybe.”  Maeve replied.  “Let’s go invite ourselves in.
There’s an easy entrance around back near the kitchen and laundry area.”
Maeve led the four of them to the entrance, and pulled out the set of lockpicks
Anvi had given her earlier, and quietly picked the lock.  The door swung
open... the laundry area was empty - not a single servant was to be
seen.   “The way is clear - let’s go.”

Maeve and Kai drew their shortswords and moved inside first, with Eric and
Christine following behind.  Maeve took a moment to bolt the door behind
them, and Eric and Christine followed Kai and Maeve as quietly as they
could.  It wasn’t far to the hall containing the Dreamers.   As
the group of four headed down the short hall from the kitchens and laundry to
the temple’s interior, they hear the clarion calls of a hunting horn ringing
three times, in the distance.

“Sounds like we might not be so alone soon, after all.”   Maeve said,
grimly.  “Our absence must have been noted in Ogden-town.
Perhaps we’re being followed by Sir Andred?”

“Is that the bastard who clubbed me unconscious?”  Asked Kai.  “Cause
if it is, we had better do this and be gone soon.  I’m not eager for a
rematch.   He was far more skilled than a hinterlands town like Ogden
deserves.”

“I’m not sure.  I AM sure I don’t want to find out.  Let’s move.”

*
*          *

Sir Andred call his men to a halt, and behind him Sir Carmichael and ten
men-at-arms pulled up and stopped.   Before them lay a scene of
bloody carnage... perhaps as many as twelve freshly killed bodies or men and
women lay on the rocks and thin covering of blood-spattered snow.
Four of them were obviously guardsmen from the House of Broken Dreams, and the
others Acolytes and servants from the same place.  His experienced eye
showed all had been violently killed, except two, who seemed to have been
killed after the battle ended.

“What do you make of this, Sir Carmichael?  It looks as if Maeve Varda and
her allies were here.  The archer that killed Sir Tarren was obviously at
work with at least four of these dead souls - and Maeve certainly did for some
of the others.   I find it hard to believe that two injured people
could kill a dozen fresh ones.”

“Well milord, we already believe their servants helped them escape - perhaps
they killed a few of these sorry bunch.  Gods know how - perhaps they used
sorcery.   We should have caught and killed them when we had the
chance.”   Sir Carmichael looked angry - not at Sir Andred’s
decision, but that foes he nearly had in his grasped had eluded him, and now
had killed again.

One of the men-at-arms who had been examining the bodies of the dead called
over to the two Valdan knights.  “Milords, this man and two others seems
to have been killed by a musket ball, or something similar.  I’ve seen
wounds like it once in a skirmish a year ago against Madragan mercenaries hired
to raid merchant caravans.   I don’t know where these heretics could
have gotten muskets and shot, but they must have at least four of them if we
count the dead correctly.”

“It matters not.”  Sir Andred said.  “The fact that these men lie
dead here means that Maeve and her allies, whomever they be, are headed for the
House of Broken Dreams which must now lie undefended.  His Grace, the
Bishop and the Lady of the House will be left with only a few useless servants
to defend themselves.   Obviously this heretic intends to murder the
Bishop and flee into the forest afterwards, hoping to escape.  I will not
allow this to happen!”   Sir Andred took a beautifully carved and
fluted hunting horn from his belt and gave it three long peals.  As the
sound echoed about, he called to his men.  “The heretic and her allies
must not escape!  Sir Carmichael and I will move ahead to try and catch
them before they reach the Bishop.  The rest of you make all haste in
following us, and direct any other hunters who heard my horn’s call to assist
us.  Capture them if you can, and kill them if you cannot!”

“Aye.”  Added Sir Carmichael.  “And remember these men and women are
already murderers.  They killed at least four of your fellow guardsmen,
and Sir Tarren as well.  Underestimate them at your own risk.”

“Enough.”  Sir Andred said.  “I lust for revenge for our fallen
friends as well - but we need to go now.  Bishop Vargas may need our
swords... Let’s ride!”  With that, the two knights spurred their horses
and sped north and west, while the men-at-arms they left behind struggled to
catch up to them as best they could.

*
*          *

Maeve, Kai, Eric and Christine crept silently through the halls, and found the
doors to the dormitory of the Dreamers.   There was no sound, save a
quiet murmuring from beyond the door - the Dreamers babble that never stopped
even in their eternal sleep.  To Eric, the constant babble of the voices
beyond the door sounded familiar - like some of the voices that had been within
his head for the last several years.  Now that he knew what they were and
where they came from, he felt oddly at ease, despite the precariousness of their
combined situation.

I suppose knowing you’re not crazy should be something to look forward to,
but when the alternative is being a person of interest to a horde of demons,
the situation looks a little less promising.   Eric grinned,
despite the strange turn his thoughts went to.   At least I
know.  That’s got to count for something.  If Evil like that can
exist, then so can Good.  That’s comforting, at least.

Maeve motioned with a hand gesture for the group to stop.   “Eric,
Christine... you might want to wait here.  What follows will be more than
a little gruesome - necessary, but not something I think you’ll want to bear
witness to.”   I wish there was time to do this mercifully.
Thought Maeve.  But we’ll be lucky to get this done and escape with our
lives.   If Bishop Vargas or Mistress Awai catch us, there’ll
be Hell to pay - maybe literally.

Eric gulped, and a cold sweat broke on his forehead - and he could see the same
on Christine, who looked more than a little ill, and looked as if she had just
tasted something unpleasant.   Maeve seemed more than a little cold -
but he had no doubt she could and would kill the Dreamers...  I just
wonder how well she’ll sleep afterwards.  Maybe she’s not one of the good
guys after all?  I mean, she did have a plan to kill me - she still might!

Christine gritted her teeth, and grabbed for Eric’s hand, clutching it like a
life preserver, as Kai and Maeve crept into the room.   Together they
waited, out of sight in the servants hallway, listening as Kai and Maeve moved
from bed to bed in the room beyond.   Christine thought for a moment
she caught a glimpse of Kai and Maeve, and both of the two adventurers faces
were stained with tears.  She actually cares that she’s killing these
people!  Christine thought, more than a little surprised considering
the events of the past few days.   She seemed so cold - and here
she’s crying for them, even though they’re a deadly danger as far as they both
know.   I don’t understand her at all.  Kai’s seems to be a
pretty decent guy - but Maeve’s... complicated.

Maeve and Kai on the other hand, bent to their grim task with cold efficiency,
trying to shut out the actuality of what they were doing.  The fact that
it was necessary, to protect all of them - and perhaps to save their world -
made it easier, but not easy - not easy by far.   By the end -
perhaps twenty minutes of grim work - the reaping was done and just under a
hundred mageborn Dreamers were leaking their lifesblood into their bedding, and
onto the floor.  The floor itself was awash with blood - the coppery taint
of it filling the air.  They lay there in their beds, Anorians and
Ghaldeans, Rillianers and Haradi, Valdans and Harvon alike - unmoving,
unflinching as they bled and died, whether man or woman, young or old.
Their lack of reaction made the scene all the more frightening and
horrific.  Maeve hardened herself to the image, but knew it would be one
that haunted her for the rest of her days.  Only a dozen  of the
Dreamers remained - one of them the red haired young woman that was linked to
Eric.

Time to end this, and get out of here...  Maeve thought.  We’ve
tarried too long.   Maeve readied her sword and advanced on the
final few Dreamers.  Kai on the other hand looked shaken and ill.
The butchers work obviously didn’t sit well with him.   And why
should it?  thought Maeve.  He hasn’t been in the situations
I’ve been in - this sort of thing should never be easy, no matter the situation.

*
*          *

Eric and Christine stood silently in the hallway, afraid to talk, and afraid to
look to see what Kai and Maeve were doing.   It had been a while,
though - almost twenty minutes - and they were both getting nervous.
Neither wanted to ask what was taking so long - they didn’t even want to think
about it.

Eric bit his lip with worry.  What do we do when they’re done in
there?  Run like hell?  To where?   What’s going to happen
to us?    He turned to raise his worries with Christine -
but before he could he heard voices approaching - and from Christine’s panicked
look, so did she...

“... must gather the Dreamer and make for the moongate.  If Maeve and her
troublemakers come back here, it would be most inconvenient if either she or
the boy were killed.  They cannot be allowed to interfere.”
The voice sounded male...  Perhaps that’s Bishop Vargas?
Eric wondered.

Christine didn’t wait to find out.  Grabbing his sleeve, she half-pulled,
half-dragged him into the dormitory beyond the doorway - and stopped dead,
shocked by the grisly sight she just bore witness to.  Eric did the same -
stunned and pale at the sight of all the blood - virtual streams of it,
trickling off the beds of the Dreamers.  Eric felt the gorge rise in his
throat, but mastered the urge to vomit.  Christine was not so lucky.
For Eric, the grisly sight of the slain and dying dreamers was frightening, and
he found he didn’t want to look weak or scared in front of Maeve and Kai, even
if the situation warranted it.  While Christine gagged, Eric got his wits
about him, and whispered “We’ve got company!  I think it’s the Bishop!”

Maeve nodded.  Damn!  She thought.  I would have
preferred by far it didn’t come to this...  She felt for her Nairya,
focussing her thoughts into her battle-trance.  The next few minutes will
determine how all of this ends...   “Get behind us, and get down -
it’s about to get crazy in here!”

Meanwhile, Kai was readying his bow.  He had the look of someone who fully
expected to die, but was damned if they were going to make their dying
something easy or their life cheaply taken.  He looked grim, violent, and
deadly.

Eric went to help Christine up, when two strangers entered the room - an
elderly man and a woman, both finely dressed, he supposed, and both surrounded
by some form of odd glowing energy.  Is this magic I’m
seeing?   It reminds me of the jail...  Is that what magic looks
like?  The man - probably Bishop Vargas - was wearing an off-white
robe, with a gold and purple chasuble and stole marked with the symbols of
Isundal the Sky King.   On his left hand was a gold ring set with a
yellow gemstone - and on the other was a simple black iron ring.
The old woman with him wore a grey and purple robe, with an ornate disc of wood
stained a purple with some form of dye, and inlaid with a disc of onyx.
She had a golden fillet containing her grey hair, and an ornate silver ring set
with a plum colored ruby on her left hand.  A dagger was at her belt,
though she made no attempt to reach for it.   Both people exuded an
aura of being used to command, and neither seemed afraid.   In the
distance, Eric heard wood splintering, like a door was being kicked in or
hacked apart.

Maeve and Kai didn’t even pause as they entered - Maeve flung a spell at
Vargas, and Kai loosed two arrows in quick succession.  Both had the same
effect - Vargas and Awai’s magics brushed them aside to no effect.

“Still you plague me, Maeve Varda.  You’re harder to be rid of than a
Wolfen with fleas - but now, you face your end...  Even one as skilled as
you cannot stand against both Awai and myself.   My Love, take the
archer - Maeve is mine...”   With that, Vargas readied himself for
battle, raising a Nairya of his own, while Awai came forward, chanting a spell

Maeve looked surprised - not at the Bishops posturing, but that his ward
deflected both her spell and Kai’s arrows.   Wards that protected
against both physical and magical threats together were very complicated and
very difficult to cast and maintain.  “Try to distract him and
Awai!”  She yelled - she wasn’t sure to who - Kai, Christine or
Eric.  We need any edge we can get.

“Distractions won’t save you, spy!”  Vargas cried, blasting at her with a
bolt of fire so hot the whitewash on the walls blistered as it passed by -
Maeve dodged it, but only barely, and the bolt struck the bed of one of the
remaining Dreamers, killing its occupant instantly and reducing him and the bed
he was in to ashes.   Awai raised her hands, and a bolt of dark
lightning arced from her palm to strike Kai, who screamed and was knocked back
and down a half dozen paces, his bow knocked from his hand.

“NO!”  Eric yelled, and rushed to get between Kai and Vargas, drawing his
automatic pistol.  I don’t know how many shots are even left in this
thing, Eric thought.  But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Kai or
Maeve be killed while I stand around doing nothing!   He raised
the gun to fire, and took aim.

Christine in the meantime, was stuck in a panic.  What do I
do?   What do I do?  She thought, over and over.  Not
knowing what she could do against Awai and Vargas, she ran over to near Eric,
and tried to help Kai up.

Maeve finished her dodge, and realized that the situation was more than pretty
grim - it was virtually lost.  They were beaten - the only thing to do now
was either fight and die, or see if there was some way to salvage the situation...
Then she noticed something behind Vargas and Awai - and got a nasty glimmer of
hope...

“So now what, Vargas - you kidnap Eric here, and take him to your dark masters
in Hserin, use him to destroy the world of mankind.  Then what?  I
mean, you’ll probably kill us - me, Kai, Christine -  What do you get out
of it - I mean, what do you give someone who already bears a Black
Ring?   What more can the Hserinyar offer you?”   Just a
few minutes, please goddess!  Let this airbag talk for like two, maybe
three minutes.

Vargas paused.  “You want to know what they offered me?  I spent the
greater part of my life following the teachings of Isundal and Askeline - and
what did I get for my troubles?  A mediocre position of power in a distant
post?  About ten years ago, I realized that it was all for nothing - less
than nothing!   When I was approached by people who could assure my
advancement, I jumped at the opportunity - and why not?  Here, I was never
going to advance - never taste true power.   When they came and
promised to teach me sorcery - to wield a Black Ring - I leapt for it.  In
the intervening years, I earned the respect from them that I should have had
from my countrymen!   You want to know what Awai and I were
offered?  How does immortality sound?  That and a seat next to Hrask
himself, when he and his mate are reunited - all thanks to Eric and that
Dreamer.”   Vargas pointed at Eric and the Dreamer.

Awai laughed.  “You think I care for what gifts the Hserinyar
offer?   Lady Delirium has promised me a place at her side, when all
this is done.   As the great Drakes Hrask and Tiamat revel in the
destruction of the gods of man, Delirium will revel in the chaos, the madness
of the battle and the anarchy of the aftermath.   And I will be at
her side, my curse lifted and my wounds healed, with Vargas at my side, for all
of time.”

The two fanatics looked at the others - Maeve, Kai, Eric and Christine - and
followed their gazes back, and to the right - to see Sir Andred and Sir
Carmichael standing there - shocked, aghast - and very, very angry.  It
was obvious they had heard the whole tirade.

“Well, Fuck.”  Was all Bishop Vargas could think to say.

“Indeed.”  Sir Andred replied.   “To think someone we respected,
whom we swore allegiance to - someone whose duty it was to protect the faith
and husband its people... You disgust me.  It will be my pleasure to see
your head on a pike in Ogden by Nightfall tomorrow.”  He advanced a few
steps towards Vargas and Awai.  “Come Sir Carmichael - you wanted revenge
for our friend Sir Tarren.  Come and get it.”

“Oh, do shut up!”  Vargas turned his attention from Maeve just long enough
to motion Mistress Awai towards the knights.  “Kill them, my love - I’ll
deal with our other pests.”

“Yes my love!  This charade ends tonight - and tomorrow we will be as
Kings and Queens.”  Without another word, she raised her hand, and another
bolt of dark lightning shot from her hands, striking Sir Andred, who screamed and
was knocked down.   Sir Carmichael charged, using his large shield as
a battering ram, attempting to slam into Mistress Awai.

He hurtled across the room swiftly, which was surprising considering the size
and weight of his heavy armor, and slammed into Awai - or tried.
The shield rush did little harm - but the force of the impact hitting her
magical barrier knocked her prone.

Kai drew and nocked an arrow in one smooth motion - aiming for Bishop
Vargas.  Maeve gathered her energy for another mental assault upon the
rogue Cleric as well, hoping to overwhelm him with different
attacks.   Eric on the other hand, still had his gun aimed at Vargas
- but was having difficulty focussing - all the dead Dreamers about him was a
violent and bloody reminder about what was at stake, and he found himself
unable to concentrate.   Take the damn shot, He thought.
We might not have another chance...

Then the whole room was engulfed in the thunderous sound of gunshots, as Eric’s
pistol fired once, twice and a third time as his pistol muzzle spit flame and
deadly projectiles.  The first two deflected off Vargas’s magical shield -
but the third bullet broke through, and blasted him in the upper thigh on his
right side.  Vargas screamed and went to one knee - but miraculously his
barrier held.

Sir Andred stood up, and readied himself to aid Sir Carmichael - while Maeve
loosed her mental bolt at Vargas.   His shield held - again - but it
was clear his defences were weakening.  Which is good, because if I cast
too many more of these psychic blasts, I’m going to be in serious
trouble.  It won’t do any good to win the battle if I lose myself to the
Call of Hrask.  Maeve thought.  She could feel she was at the edge of
her limits - much more of this, and she would be at serious risk.

Awai reached out and brushed her hand against Sir Carmichael’s shield, calling
out a prayer to Lady Delirium.  Dark energy surged from her hand.
His body flashed with great light for a moment, like he was lit within by a
bright light - and then it was over.  Where a moment before a knight of
Valris had been, was now a charred corpse clad in blackened, twisted remnants
of chainmail armor.   Awai laughed - a high pitched laugh tinged with
what sounded like madness.

Kai loosed his arrow, and it flew straight and true.  With Vargas’s
barrier weakening under Eric’s gun, Maeve’s magic and his arrows, they might
just have a chance to prevail!   The arrow struck Vargas in the upper
left arm - a glancing blow, but one that seemed to distract him a bit with
pain, and rob him of some of his precious concentration.  If I can
disrupt his Nairya, Maeve can drop him, I’m sure of it.   He
stood up from behind the bed he had taken cover behind, and aimed what he hoped
would be the telling shot.

Vargas cursed under his breath.  I could deal with the Askelinian
bitch’s magic if that thrice-damned archer was out of the way.   And
I’ll have to stop Eric from firing that strange pistol at me again... How in
the seven hells can it fire so many times without reloading?
Vargas gathered his power to hurl a blast of fire that would incinerate
whomever it hit.   “Let us end this, Maeve!”  He said, aiming
towards her... and then fired the blistering bolt not at Maeve, but at Kai, who
was out in the open, with no cover.

Four things happened in quick succession at that moment.  Kai saw the bolt
of flame coming, and knew he couldn’t dodge it in time.  It seemed like it
was radiating with the heat of the sun... Knowing he was about to die, he
started to make peace with his gods.  Maeve screamed “NO!”, and launched a
bolt of pure mental force at Bishop Vargas... She hadn’t used spells of that
strength very often, but when she had used them, normal men at least, had had
their minds turned to ash.   Maeve saw her bolt hit Vargas and spin
him around, screaming in pain as he tumbled to the ground.  Maeve felt
with sick certainty she would be burying another friend all too soon.  It
made her feel nauseous, and guilty.  Sir Andred called out a prayer to the
Twins, Feana and Hathor - and charged Mistress Awai, his sword shining
seemingly of its own light.  His blade sheared through her magical barrier
like tissue paper, and buried itself in her chest.  She staggered, and her
magical shield winked out.  Blood leaked from around her mouth, and from
her fatal sword wound.  She fell to her knees, coughing up blood, and
looked up at Andred, the light slowly fading from her eyes.  And Eric,
seeing the bolt coming for Kai, threw himself in its path.   It
struck him dead center, and his screams echoed throughout the chamber as he
instantly caught on fire, and was lit from knees to neck like a human bonfire.

Sir Andred looked at Awai, and said “Witch, know this.  I am a Vigilant of
the Third Circle, a Hand of Hathor.  My spirit is pure - your dark magics
are no barrier to my wrath.  Prepare for your death, and may your dark
goddess treat you as you treated others in this life.”  With that, he
yanked his blade out of Awai’s chest, and beheaded the kneeling, dying
priestess before her body could strike the ground.

Christine saw Eric get hit by the fire bolt, and screamed “Look out!” even as
Eric fell to the floor, burning.  Gotta put the fire out!  She
thought, knowing it was probably already too late.   Not like this
- not like his friends.  Dammit!

Maeve, not looking to see what happened - she couldn’t bear to see it - fired
another bolt into Vargas.  There was no finesse, no talent - just raw rage
and raw power.   Maeve blasted him again and again - and eventually
he lay still.   She stood there, huffing and puffing with the
exertion, her mind feeling like it was scratched raw by sandpaper.  The
fatigue of spellcasting left her feeling weak, like a kitten, and barely able
to stand.  It was only then she realized the battle was over - and it
wasn’t Kai who was dying from Vargas’s bolt of fire.

“Eric!”  Maeve called out.  “No!  Dammit!”  She rushed over
to Kai and Christine, who were trying to put out the flames.  Christine
was crying, saying  “Why?  Why?  Why?” over and over
again.  Kai looked stricken...  “He... he jumped in front of the
flames for me... Why?”   Kai had faced death so many times, he knew
it like a lover - he had not been ready for her embrace, but he had accepted
it... and to have Eric leap in front of the bolt meant for him, when he had
neither reason nor duty to do so, struck him to the core with its generosity
and valor.

Sir Andred watched the drama play out for a moment.  Perhaps there’s
more to this tale than I first believed.   His grace, a traitor to
both church and country, and Mistress Awai the same.   All these
murdered Dreamers is yet another factor - one for which Maeve will need to
explain herself in front of a Tribunal.  I suspect that unless she has a
good reason, it’ll be the gallows for her.  Too bad about the young lad -
he showed courage.

It was then one of the Dreamers began to scream - a young Valdan woman, like she
was dying herself.  What was more terrifying was that her screams were in
perfect sync with the screams of the young man dying of his burns on the floor
before him.   Sir Andred made the sign of the Compact, and
swore.  There is more to this than meets the eye, but I’ll be damned if
I can figure it out...

*
*          *

All Eric could feel, after he leapt in front of the fire bolt, was
pain.   The flames caught him in the lower torso and burned deep
within him, like a hot knife through butter.   He almost laughed at
the simile...  “Like a knife” he croaked...  It was
ironic.   I’m going to die.  He thought.   Like
Norm.  Like Dave.   I don’t want to die.   The
pain was unbelievable - but the smell was worse.  All Eric could smell was
cooking bacon - which made him want to laugh until he realized it was the smell
of himself on fire.

He could vaguely see and hear Christine freaking out nearby, even as she tried to
pat out the flames scorching him with a purloined blanket.   Kai was
trying to help Christine, and was trying to tell him ‘It would be all right’
and that ‘...he was going to make it.’   He couldn’t see Maeve.
Funny, Eric thought.  Why would Kai lie like that?
The pain was incredible, and he could smell scorched flesh and hair - his own
no doubt.  He didn’t even know how he was remaining conscious.
Then the wensin root balm Kai was slathering over his body dulled the pain
somewhat, enough for him to try and talk a bit.   Even as the balm
took effect, the Dreamers screams muted to dull whimpers.

“Gaaah, that hurts.”  Eric said to Kai and Christine.   “I guess
I’ve had better ideas, huh?”

“You think!?”  Christine said.

Kai looked at Eric and his wounds, and turned to Christine.  “If you have
anything to say, I suggest you say it soon.”  Kai looked choked up.
“Thank you, Eric - for saving my life.”

“De nada...” said Eric.  “You’re too cute to die...I wish...”  He
coughed up something rough, and turned to Christine.  “I don’t think I’m
going to get you back home, Christine.  Sorry...”

Christine shook her head.  “No - you can’t give in, dammit.  I was
supposed to protect you, not the other way around.   You’re my charge
- you’re practically my little brother by proxy... Please, don’t
die!”   She begged Eric - but even she knew it was out of his
hands.  His wounds were really bad.   “Maeve - you have
magic!  Is there anything you can do?”

Maeve watched the drama unfold before her in a numb haze... It’s like I’m
losing Nile all over again...  I can’t do it again.  I can’t!
Maeve looked for a moment like she was going to bolt from the room.  Then
she steeled herself.  It’s not Nile - it’s Eric, and I need to do
something!   She paused a moment, and saw the red-haired Dreamer
- the Valdan girl linked with Eric.  Maybe their link is strong enough
to help?  She thought.

Not wasting a second, she rushed to Eric’s side, gently pushing Kai aside to
make room.   She hushed Christine, and gently took Eric’s burnt and
crispy head in her hands.  He moaned in pain - as did the Dreamer linked
to him.  Maeve swore as one of Eric’s ears crumbled off in her palm like
crispy bacon.   “Listen to me, Eric.”  She said.
“You’re linked to a Dreamer - if you look you can feel her lifeforce - feel the
link tying you two together.  Can you feel it?”

Eric tried to concentrate, but it was so hard... His body felt aflame, and
every limb and inch of his body hurt with incredible agony; only the healing
salve Kai had applied allowed him to think at all.   As he tried to
feel for the link, he felt his connection with his body seem to lessen - the
pain seemed farther away, less insistent.   “I feel it, I
think.”  He whispered, unsure if Maeve or the others could hear him.

“Good.”  Said Maeve.   “Reach for it, and try to draw some
energy from it - to strengthen yourself.   If you draw her power into
you, you should be all right.”   Eric didn’t respond to Maeve’s voice
- he had gone still, and limp.

“I don’t think he can hear you.”  Said Christine.  “Can he hear
you?”   She looked frantic and worried.

Kai said “He’s fading, Maeve - do something!”

Maeve, unsure if Eric could even hear her, realized she would have to use magic
to make sure Eric could hear her.   Who cares if I’m running the
ragged edge of my Threshold?  She thought.  I’m not letting
Eric die when I might be able to help him!   Maeve sent her
commands into his mind with her power, casting a spell to let her words be
heard, even if his ears were too damaged to perceive them.  Try to draw
her strength to you, Eric - her strength should help you heal.  She
was sure he heard her, but she heard no reply in return.

*
*          *

Eric was drifting in what seemed an empty dark place - not the silvery darkness
of the Void, but something less frightening - like a dark room in a empty
house.   He could sense the silvery cord tying him to the Dreamer
too, although he couldn’t see her.  Everything hurt so bad - his body was
one raw wound - and yet he could still feel the arrow wound in his arm,
underneath the burns.  Then he heard Maeve’s voice, in his mind - like
before.   Try to draw some strength from her... How?!
Eric wasn’t sure.   The pain began to lessen, and Eric was trying to
decide if that was good, or bad, when he heard a young girl’s voice.

“Well, Eric, you seem to have gotten yourself into a pretty bad
situation.”   The speaker seemed to be a young woman of about 14 or
15 years of age, with long, dark black hair, and green eyes.  She was
wearing a simple green dress - like what Eric had seen in pictures of Artemis,
the Greek goddess of the hunt wearing, back home.  Like the pictures of
Artemis, she carried a curved bow, and at her belt was a set of keys of all
colors that looked as if they were made of glass.

“Who... who are you?”  Eric didn’t know what was happening, but he was
sure he wasn’t crazy.   “Am I dead?”   All he felt was an unnatural
calmness - there was a strange serenity that surrounded the young woman, that
he couldn’t help but be affected by.

“Not quite - not yet.”  She said.  “And you can call me
Seleni.”   She walked over to Eric, and helped him stand.
As she did, all the pain he felt a few moments ago fell away from him.  He
felt whole.

Eric was about to say something, when he remembered what Maeve told him about
their religion.   “You’re the Goddess, right - one of the Ladies of
Mercy.   I’m going to die aren’t I?”

“I am.  You are.  But it doesn’t have to be today...  Do you
want to live?”   The goddess Seleni smiled at him, and he felt at
ease.

“Yes...  I want to live.”   Eric never felt any more sure of
anything in his life.   He knew he wasn’t crazy - and he wanted to
live life.  He wanted a second chance.

“Then take the cord, and follow it to its end.  I promise, you will
awaken, healed and without pain.” The young woman - goddess smiled at Eric; it
was a knowing smile that promised, somehow, that the future will be better -
even without her saying a word.

Eric nodded.  “Thank you... Ma’am.   I’m sorry, I don’t know how
to act in a situation like this.”

“It’s alright Eric...  I understand you are a stranger to our ways.
I only hope that you will give my people another chance to show you their true
nature, and not take the tragedy of the last few days as the norm on Mercia.”

“I suppose I could.”  Eric said.   “Ummm... I’m sorry, but can I
ask you a question, Goddess?  My Mom... is she here, in the afterlife?”

“I’m sorry, Eric.  Your mother is beyond my sight, and my
reach.   All worlds have their own Gods and Goddesses, and only very
rarely do they go wandering in the Void.   If she is anything like
you, I’m sure she is in a good place, and at peace.  Fear not - the
visions sent by the demons of the void can only harm you if you allow them - if
you give them purchase in your heart, and allow their cancer to take
hold.   If you foster Hope, they cannot harm you.  They are lies
- and lies can only lead you astray if you allow them.”

Eric felt tears roll down his cheeks.  Mom’s okay.  Mom’s okay.
“Will I see her again?”

“Perhaps, Eric.  Everyone chooses their own Fate, and not even the Gods
can see the whole of the future, although Morian, my colleague, may at times
attempt to do so.  What must concern you now is whether you will live or
die.”   Seleni gestured for Eric to go...  “Follow the cord, and
live, Eric.  From what I see of your mother in your mind, it is what she
would have wanted.  Tomorrow’s worries are for tomorrow; do not borrow
against the troubles of another day.”

“Oh, and Eric...  Let Maeve know that she is forgiven.  She’ll know
what it means, when it’s time for her to understand.  She may have given
up on Us - but We have not given up on her.”

Eric nodded, only half understanding what Seleni - the Goddess -
said.   He followed the cord.   As he followed it along its
silvery length, Seleni faded from view, and he was left in the darkness lit
only by the cord itself.   He had the impression of falling at great
speed towards a light - and then everything went black.

*
*          *

Maeve held Eric’s head, staring into his eyes, as if just the force of her will
could make him live.  Christine clutched Eric’s burnt hand, and she was
crying, saying “Please, no...” over and over.  Kai simply stood behind
Maeve, looking stricken, tears falling from his eyes.  Eric gave one last
shudder, and then was gone.   Maeve collapsed crying, and Kai clasped
her should to lend her strength.   Christine just wailed,
mournfully.  Eric was dead.

Sir Andred watched from a distance away, unsure if he should interrupt their
moment.   He decided to wait - a small mercy perhaps, but you only
got one chance to say goodbye, in his experience.   He moved to Sir
Carmichael, and gently closed his eyes.   “Goddess watch over you, my
friend.   You got your vengeance - and the villain responsible for
Sir Tarren is dead.”

Before he could do anything more, he noticed Christine had stopped her wail,
and rose with a fury - a sight not lost on Kai or Maeve as well.
She stopped to pick up Eric’s stolen handgun, and marched over to Bishop
Vargas’s body...   It seemed he was still alive, trying in vain to
draw something - write something in his own blood on the floor before
him.  Maybe a spell?

Without even pausing, nor even saying a word, Christine walked up to him, aimed
- and emptied the magazine into his body, one round after another.  Bullet
after bullet tore into Bishop Vargas’s body, until the gun chamber clicked
empty.   She was still pulling the trigger a half minute later when
Kai took the empty pistol from her hands.   Christine knew she was
going into shock - but she couldn’t help it.  All she wanted to do was
kill this son of a bitch who brought this disaster upon her and Eric...
She clutched Kai and hugged him crying...

*
*          *

Eric felt himself lying in bed, thin cotton - or was it linen - sheets covering
him.  Weird, he thought.  I don’t hurt at all.
What he did feel, he realized, was that he was hungry and thirsty, and his throat
felt raw and sore.  He felt weak, too, like there was little strength in
his limbs.   He could hear Christine crying nearby, and Maeve and Kai
muttering quietly.

“What’s everyone crying about?”  He asked as he tried to sit up - and as
he did, he knew something was wrong...  For starters, his voice sounded
well... wrong, rough yet higher pitched than before - and he couldn’t see for
all the long red hair in his face.  As he brushed it out of his face, he
knew what he was going to see when he looked - a thought confirmed when he saw
himself - in the body of the young Dreamer - and his old, burnt body lying on
the floor a few paces away.  “Holy Shit!”

Eric looked at Maeve, and Kai, Christine and even Sir Andred.   All
of them were staring in shock - Sir Andred fell to his knees and began praying
- but Eric couldn’t understand him...  Duh!  Of course not!
He thought.  You’re not wearing the translation amulet anymore.
“Christine!”  He called.  “I don’t know how, but it’s me,
Eric.”   His new female voice felt scratchy, rough and dry, like he’d
been talking for days.  It sounded like a raspy croak - just in a timbre
he wasn’t used to.

Christine was sobbing into Kai’s chest, sobbing over Eric’s death, when she
heard someone speaking English...  Pulling away from Kai, she looked over
and saw a young woman - the red-head Maeve said was linked to Eric, trying to
sit up.   I thought Maeve said that Dreamers never wake up... and
how the hell does she speak English?   Christine was totally
confused - until the Dreamer called her name, and claimed to be Eric.

“Eric?  Who the hell are you?  Eric’s dead!”  She didn’t know
what kind of trick this was, but she wasn’t happy about it.  Is this
possible?   Oh God, please be Eric!

“What!?”  Said Kai.  “What is she saying?  I can’t understand
her.”

Maeve, realizing something very strange had just happened, walked over to
Eric’s dead body, and carefully pulled the Translation amulet from his corpse,
its scorched cord crumbling to ash as she pulled it from Eric’s body.  She
walked to the dreamer, and put it in her left hand, closing her fingers around
it.   “Hold this - it might help.”

“Thanks Maeve.”  Eric said - and realized that this time, Kai, Maeve and
Sir Andred could understand him.

Kai looked at the young woman on the bed - who Christine had been yelling at -
and asked “Who are you?   How... how did you wake
up?”    Kai was obviously confused - but like Sir Andred, had
the look of someone who may have been in the presence of a miracle.

“Ummm.”  said Eric.  “I’m Eric.  I was in a dark place, and I
met this young woman wearing green.  She had a bow and some keys made of
glass - and she said if I wanted to live, I needed to follow the link - just
like I heard you say before I uh... died, I guess, Maeve.   She said
she was called Seleni - she seemed really nice.   She asked if I wanted
to live or die - and I said live.   And now I’m a girl, for god’s
sake.  What the hell happened?  I thought you said it would heal me
if I tapped the link, not put me in her body!”

“I... don’t know why it happened, Eric.”  Maeve said, confused as hell,
but happy Eric was still amongst the living, even if he... she was
different.   “I think you were visited by the Goddess, and she chose
to save you.  I don’t know what else it could be.”

“It’s a miracle!”  Sir Andred said.  “The Goddess herself must have
given you a second chance.   I don’t know why she chose to place you
in that Dreamer - but it’s a miracle from Heaven!  A Dreamer Shall
Wake!   A Dreamer Shall Wake!”   He stared at Eric, still
on his knees, praying - a beatific expression on his face.

Kai also didn’t know what to say.  “I for one, don’t know what happened
either, but I am glad you are alive, even if you are different.”
Indeed, he was grateful that the Goddess saw fit to give Eric another life -
but he didn’t understand why she couldn’t heal his old body instead of putting
him into the body of the Dreamer.   “Thank you for saving my
life...”  Kai gathered Eric into a hug, and held him tight for a moment,
before releasing him.  “I owe you my life, Eric.”

Eric blushed and looked more than a bit
embarrassed.  “You... you’re welcome?”  She turned her eyes from
Kai’s, looking away bashfully, and back to the others, looking a bit
uncomfortable.  What Eric wasn’t saying was how he felt when Kai held
him... tingly was the only word that came to mind.  That and nice.

Christine didn’t know what to believe.  Is this possible?
Maeve, Awai and Vargas had a spell-fight that would have given Industrial Light
and Magic a run for their money, and the Dreamer who was never supposed to wake
up is now up, and speaking fucking English for Pete’s sake.   What
the hell is going on?   Then she realized that if Eric was in
this Dreamer, and his old body was dead...  Eric was stuck like that for
the rest of his... her life.

“Eric... is that you?”  She asked.

“Yeah.  I think so.  And I’m glad I’m alive too, Kai.”

“Say something only Eric would know... please.  Just humor me.”

Eric paused.  “Ummm...  Well, when you bought me a coffee the day
that... that you found me, I asked for it Black, with no poison.
And at the hospital I told you it was pretty funny for a girl who snorted
chocolate milk through her nose.”   Eric still couldn’t bring himself
to talk about Norm and Dave - especially not so close to his own crisped body.

She didn’t know how to explain it, but that was Eric in there.
“You... You’re Eric.”

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes, as what had just happened sunk in, until Eric
broke the silence.   “Umm.  Could I get something to eat, or
drink.  I’m starving.”

Maeve nodded.  “No wonder.  It’s hard to get Dreamers to eat or drink
without help.”  She said as she grabbed for her pack to dig out some
food.   “Most are fed nothing but fruit juice or fortified broth - it
sustains them, but only just.  It’s not that they’re being punished – it’s
just that its hard to get someone whose asleep to chew their food and swallow
it without choking.”   She pulled out a small, part loaf of fresh
bread and a small piece of sausage.  “Take small bites, and chew it well
before you swallow.  It may have been many years since your new form has
eaten solid food - you don’t want to get sick.”

Eric nodded, and the long red hair flopped back into his face.  He
muttered an imprecation and dragged it back out, and took the bread and sausage
from Maeve.   Christine couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What’s so funny?  Aside from the obvious.”  Eric asked.

“Nothing - just the obvious.”  Christine answered.   “And I’m
imagining the look your sister is going to give me when I finally get you back
home and she realizes you can share her clothes now.”

“Har de har har.”  Eric took a bite of bread and chewed it slowly.  I
suppose I could.  Strangely - or perhaps not so strangely, the thought
appealed to him.

Kai smiled, and looked at Maeve.  “It seems even death cannot keep these
two’s spirits down.   What’s our next move, Maeve?”

Maeve thought, and said  “A moment, Kai... I believe we need to deal with
Sir Andred before we decide anything.”  Maeve walked over to Sir Andred,
who was just now rising to his feet, still snatching glances at the new Eric,
with a look of religious reverence.

“Are we going to have a problem with you, Sir Andred?”   Maeve asked.

“That depends.”  Sir Andred answered.  “Who are you?  Why are
you and your friends here?”

“I work for the Council of Hierarchs in Arathel.   I’m an investigator
for the Church, a ‘problem solver’ if you will, and I discovered that something
was very, very wrong here about a week ago.  I’ve spent the rest of that
week either trying to figure out what was going on with the dreamers, or trying
to stay alive from attacks by wizards, demons, or you and your friends.”

Andred considered that for a moment.  It had the ring of truth to it, and
combined with what he had just seen transpire in this place, he believed her.
“What is the meaning of all these slain Dreamers?  Did you kill
them, or did Vargas and Awai?”

“I did, though I wish I didn’t have to.  They were mageborn - all of them,
including the few left over in that part of the room - perhaps eight of them
remain alive, out of nearly a hundred.”

Andred paled.   “A hundred mageborn Dreamers... Then you did what you
had to do.”   He knew the dangers even a single mageborn Dreamer
could pose... He paled to think of what a hundred could do.  “Vargas
claimed you were a Heretic, when we first met, you and I.  I want you to
know I didn’t know he was a traitor.”

“Thank you.”  Maeve said.  “I believe you.  You seem like
a good man.  I’m sorry we had to kill your friend, but we had no
choice.  Vargas had to be stopped.   I need to return to Arathel,
with my friends, to inform the Council of what has transpired here.”

“I’m sorry about Sir Tarren as well, but I understand.  He will be sorely
missed - but Vargas and Awai are the real villains here.  Goddess bless
you, and may Isundals unwinking eye watch over you as you travel, Maeve Varda -
and may your travels keep you far from Ogden town for some time.”

“Indeed.”   Maeve chuckled, then turned to the others.
“We should gather up our supplies, and make for Wethom.  Eric, can you walk?”

Eric tried to stand, and found he could - only barely.  Not only was his
center of balance totally wrong and different, his legs felt like they could
barely support him - like he was as weak as a kitten - which was probably true,
considering his emaciated state.   It was weird - the room looked
larger - because he was smaller, no doubt - and everything was just a bit off
compared to before...  But he wasn’t burnt to a crisp, and he was
alive.  He considered that a fair trade.   “I think I can stand,
but I’m not sure how far I can walk.  Sorry.”

Kai looked at Maeve.  “You’re not still thinking the Moongate, are you?”

“What?  Hell no.”  Maeve said.  “There’s no rush anymore.
Perhaps we should head to Ogden town and hire a sleigh and a team of horses,
and make for Wethom, where we can rest, regain our strength - and where Eric
can get used to her new self for a few days before I have to leave for
Arathel.”

“What about the rest of us?”  Christine asked.   “What do we
do?”

“I was thinking that perhaps you could rest, and help each other recuperate
somewhere safe, while I reported to my superiors.  Then I’d return as soon
as I was able to see how you were doing, and when it was safe and practical,
take both of you - and you too, Kai, if you want to come - to Arathel to speak
to the Council of Hierarchs about this whole ordeal.”

Eric didn’t know what or where ‘Wethom’ was, but he assumed it was a town, away
from Ogden and the House of Broken Dreams.   “Sounds better than
staying here.” He said.

Maeve nodded, and she and Kai began making arrangements to get the four of them
to Ogden town, where they would arrange transportation to Wethom.   Maybe
Sir Andred would even help us get to Ogden town?  She thought.
Although I don’t suppose we should push it...

“Umm... Aren’t we forgetting something?”  Asked Eric, who was pointing at
his original body, lying burnt and dead on the floor.   “Could we at
least bury the old me?  I don’t want to be left laying here in all this
blood.  Its gross - and I’d feel better, I think, than just leaving it
here.”

Chapter 15 - Truth

In the end, Sir Andred’s men arrived at the House of Broken Dreams, and assisted
in building a cairn for Eric’s body to be buried beneath - although to say they
were confused about Sir Andred’s about-face regarding Maeve was an
understatement.   Sir Andred also offered Sir Carmichael’s horse to
Maeve, Eric, Kai and Christine, so that it might be easier to get Eric back to
Ogden town.  Maeve and Kai also found Eric some warmer travelling clothes
to make the trip back to Ogden more comfortable.

Eric squirmed a bit in the unfamiliar clothing... She was wearing a woolen dress,
with linen undergarments, woolen socks and leather shoes, a head covering
similar to a bonnet, and a grey woolen cloak.   The undergarments
were the worst so far - itchy and unfamiliar.  The sensation of having to
tie a bodice shut to conceal a young woman’s breasts was rather strange too.

As Eric watched the men-at-arms, the reality of the situation started to settle
upon him... or was it her?   That’s my body we’re burying.
She thought.   I’m a girl now.  What the hell am I going to
do?   I don’t know how to be a girl.   I can’t even go home
anymore - who would believe I am who I say I am?  Did the Goddess do this
to me, or was it something I did?   I just did what she told me to
do...

Christine saw Eric watching the funeral, and put her arm around the now young
woman.  “Buck up, Eric.” She said, trying to feel the positivity she was
putting into her own words.  “How many people get to go to their own
funeral and walk away?”

Eric sniffed.  “Not many, I guess.  I’m not even dressed like Phil
Schiffley.”  A short pause later, she tried to cheer up a bit.  “Why
did that asshole have to torch my leather jacket?  I loved that
jacket.  Stupid jerk.  And my Doc Martens are toast too.
Asshole.”

Kai smiled at the comment.  It seemed that nothing could keep Eric, or
Christine, down for too long.  He could respect that.  “You know, we
DO have leather jackets and coats on our world too, Eric.  It wouldn’t be
hard to find one you like, and buy it, once you have some coin.”

“Oh my GOD!”  Christine laughed, with a twinkle in her eye.  “We
could go SHOPPING!”  She turned the comment into an excited statement - a
parody of a bad sitcom on TV back home.  Christine couldn’t help herself,
and laughed at the situation, laughed at Eric’s discomfort - it was just too
ludicrous a situation.   As she made her statement, she ducked away
from Eric, to avoid the slap upside the head she expected to be coming her way.

Eric just stuck his tongue out at her.  “Very funny, Christine.”  She
smiled a bit, though.  Shopping might be nice.

Maeve came over, and put her hand on Eric’s shoulder.   “I’m sorry we
couldn’t save your male body, Eric.  You should know, though, that if you
are very unhappy as you are now, there is a way to help you return to being
male.”

But I’m not unhappy, she thought.  Just confused.
“What way is there?”  Eric said.  “A magic spell?”

“Not really,” said Kai.   “There are sometime people born who we call
‘Tuaithal Breithe’ - children born of the wrong soul - boys who wish to be
girls, or girls who wish to be boys.   They are usually discovered in
their early teen years, and counselled by members of the church to see if they
truly are wrong souled - and if they are, they are allowed to undergo a
religious ritual performed by the church, which aligns their bodies with their
souls.  After a year and a day in their new body, they are considered to
be the same as if they had been born that way.”

“Holy Crap!”  Eric said.  “Really?”

Christine shook her head at the thought.  What the transgendered people
back home wouldn’t give for a trip here.   “Does this happen
often?  Is it common?”  She asked.

Maeve shook her head.  “Not really - most towns and villages have a few children
undergoing the ritual, or have heard of someone who did, or perhaps had a
relative in their family tree who did.  It’s not considered normal - but
not abnormal either.  It’s like when you have an illness, and go to a
herbalist to get medicine to get better.  Once you get better, no one
really thinks about it anymore.”

Kai saw Christine and Eric’s surprised faces.   “You seem
surprised.  What do they do with children who are born wrong-souled on
your world?”

Christine thought about it a moment.  “They don’t really do much.  A
lot of them think they’re sick – something’s wrong with them.  Some take
their lives or are cast out and disowned by their families.  Others have
years of therapy and social ridicule as they’re treated like outcasts, and live
in fear of being discovered.  Some are murdered - a lot are murdered,
actually - and some few receive surgery to try to align their bodies more with
their soul - but its not a perfect cure, and even then many don’t transition
well.”

“That’s barbaric!”   Kai looked shocked.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”  Said Christine, a little pissed off at Kai’s
holier-than-thou tone.  “But our world has a lot going for it too - so if
you and Maeve can ask Eric and I not to judge until we’ve seen some of the good
things in your world, then you can at least do us the favor of showing us the
same courtesy.”

Kai didn’t know what to say, so he nodded his head, and turned away.
“Maybe we should get going soon.  I’ll go check the horses and gear.”
He stalked off, head down.

Maeve watched him go, and turned to Eric and Christine.  “Kai’s a good man
- but he didn’t mean to insult you, Christine.  He had a relative who was
Tuaithal Breith, a young man named Donal, who underwent the ritual of Màigean
Mranne, and became a woman.  I guess the thought of her being murdered for
simply being different was upsetting.”

“Wow...  Was Donal his brother?”  Eric asked.

“No,” Maeve replied.   “Donal, who became Donya, was his Grandmother.
If Donal had been born on your world, Kai would not have ever existed.”
Maeve looked at Kai’s retreating form.  “He’s just a bit shocked - our two
worlds seem to be very, very different places.  I look forward to hearing
more of yours when you’re ready.”   Maeve pointed at the cairn,
nearly finished.   “Say your goodbyes - take what time you
need.  When you’re ready, we’ll be by the horses.”

Eric and Christine watched her go, then turned back to Eric’s cairn.

“What now?”  Christine asked.

Eric thought a bit.  “I guess we head to Wethom, rest up, and see if I can
get training to take you home.  As for anything else, I just don’t
know.  I still can’t believe I died, and I’m still here.”

“I know.  You’re not the only one its weird for, believe me.”
Christine reached out, and held Eric’s hand.   “I just want you to
know I’m here for you, okay?”

“Thanks, Christine.”

After a few minutes watching the cairn, the two women
finished saying their goodbyes, and turned and headed back to the horses.

As Eric and Christine returned to the stables outside the House of Broken
Dreams, they saw Sir Andred leaving the building, carrying a lit
torch.   The smell of smoke was in the air - and they could see
flames licking at the inside of the building.  “Better to put this nest of
vipers to the torch.”   Sir Andred said.   “Maybe the evils
done here will be cleansed by the flames.”

Maeve nodded.  “A fitting end.”   She felt her pouch, where she
had put Bishop Vargas’s Black Ring.  The Council of Hierarchs will want
to see this most urgently, she thought.  “We should be going.
Christine, can you ride well?”

“No, not really.  Not yet anyway.”

“Then you can ride with me; Kai will take Eric.   It will slow the
horses to ride double, but we would be slower still if some of us walked while
the other rode.  And if I recall, your feet are still not fully
recovered.”

Christine looked as if she was going to argue, but thought better of
it.   What difference does it make?   I could ride with
Eric, but then Maeve and Kai would need to ride together, and Eric looks like
she barely weighs 110 pounds soaking wet.  She’s about five feet, six
inches at best... and emaciated.  I suppose her being so light balances
out Kai’s weight.  I just wanted to talk to Eric in private for a bit, is
all.  And she’s right... My feet still feel like hell.  “Thanks,
Maeve.  I guess they do still hurt after all.”

Maeve helped Christine up in the saddle, then vaulted up herself - while Kai,
already mounted, reached down and pulled Eric up in front of him.
She grinned a bit, thinking of how impossible that manoeuver would have been a
day ago.  Eric, when he was a man, was way too heavy for that kind of
manhandling, she thought.   Now he needs to put on weight, not
take it off.   The world is strange, no matter which world it is.

The group of them began to ride, followed by Sir Andred and his string of
retainers on foot.  They would be slower in returning to Ogden town than
Maeve and Kai.   Maeve and Kai on horse, even loaded as they were
with Christine and Eric, could make the ten mile trip in perhaps three hours;
Sir Andred and his men were looking at more like five or six hours.  It
was good they were leaving now - in perhaps a week, maybe two the spring thaw
could come - and then the hard packed dirt road would be a quagmire for
weeks.  As it was now, it was mostly frozen - a bit squelchy, with mud on
top - but firm frozen ground to travel on.  They would make good time.

*
*          *

In the House of Broken Dreams, Vargas Elm felt pain.   He had blacked
out for a moment, when that damned knight, Sir Andred, killed Awai...  Awai,
my love!   The mortally wounded Bishop moaned in
pain.   And then I accidentally killed Eric - like a
fool!   If I hadn’t crafted that spell-charm from my own blood, that
stupid bitch with the handgun would have killed me!   Vargas
shuddered at the memory of Christine firing bullet after bullet into his
body.   Eight shots in all, he thought.  Each one a
final nail in my casket...  Well this dog has a few tricks left.

Vargas knew he was going to die - nothing could stop that now.  The spell
he had cast in blood would extend his life for perhaps an hour more, if he
didn’t exert himself.   Vargas pulled his broken and bleeding body up
to a sitting position, and took stock of the situation...   The House
of Broken Dreams was on fire, and smoke was filling the room.  The fire
was probably set by that zealot, Andred, or perhaps Maeve.  He
thought.  I don’t have much time.  In fact, he had no clue
exactly how much or how little time had passed, since Christine shot him eight
times - he guessed it wasn’t too long, or else the building and he would have
been reduced to ashes.

The dying Bishop began to focus what was left of his power into his Nairya, and
felt it slow in coming - then he realized why... That damned bitch took my
Black Ring!   Vargas thought.   Will she never cease
to plague me?   I’ll have the last laugh yet, Maeve Varda!

Bishop Vargas started drawing on the floor, using charcoal and blood - both in
ample quantity nearby, considering.  It was a rough spell - not anywhere
near his usual caliber - but it didn’t need to be.  He didn’t expect to
survive the casting.   Let’s see if she can survive my
vengeance!  I do this for you also, my love, Awai.  I pray that Lady
Delirium takes you to her bosom - I fear I will have no such reward.

With that he plunged his dagger into his left arm, screaming.   Blood
fountained out over the crude summoning circle he himself stood in the center
of, and strangely, the blood seemed unable to trickle out of it.   “Demon!
Uttuku!  I summon thee for one last command!”   He raised his
hands, dagger still impaled through his forearm, and conjured with all his
power...  Magic coruscated through his body, as he was Kissed by the void
- but it was enough...  He could sense the demon’s presence.

What would you have me do, Wizard?  spoke a voice in his
head.  It sounded like screaming, combined with the scratching of
fingernails on a chalkboard - but oh, so much worse.   What
task do you offer your lifesblood for?

“I want you to destroy Maeve Varda, body and soul.  And when she’s
dead, I want you to butcher Sir Andred in an orgy of violence that will terrify
people for the next thousand years.  Kill his entire bloodline.”

The demon considered a moment the Sorcerer’s demand.  Maeve had escaped
him once... Perhaps this time would be more successful.   DONE!
Once the bargain was made, the demon materialized and began to feed on the
sorcerers spilled lifesblood.

Vargas Elm grew weak, and fell to his knees, slumping.  “It won’t be long
now, Awai.  I love you.”

The demon paused.  It considered.   Mortal, it is within
my power to save you.  To grant you the  revenge you crave.  To
grant you a chance to restore your lover to the living.   All I ask
is that in the future, when I or my master asks it, you grant us a single favor
- if you swear it on what’s left of your soul - on your bond to Hrask himself,
I will save you.  What say you?

“Agreed, Demon.  For vengeance I would risk anything.  To complete my
work I would risk everything.  Tiamat must be found - Awai must live
again.   I will make your bargain, though I be damned in the doing of
it.”  Vargas whispered.   Weak from injury and blood loss, from
being Kissed by the Void, his injuries were too much - and he blacked out.

Very well.  Your pact is accepted.  I will save you - and one
day, I will come to collect my payment.  The gods themselves will learn to
fear us if you do not pay that debt...   The demon chanted in
a horrific sibilant whisper, and the worst of Vargas Elm’s injuries healed...
leaving him hurt and battered - but not dead.  He would recover, in time -
and get his vengeance.... And now so would the demon.

It looks like we’ll meet again, Askelinian. The demon said, more
to himself than anyone else.   I’ll enjoy breaking you.
Without another word, it took to the air - free of constraints, free of
commands, save the breaking of Maeve and the death of Sir Andred and his
bloodline.   He was neither constrained to stay nor leave - and once
his task was complete, he could do as he wished...   It was something
it was looking forward to, very, very  much.

*
*          *

Maeve, Kai, Eric and Christine had ridden for some distance towards Ogden town
- perhaps for two hours or so.  It was still full night - Kai claimed it
would be several hours before dawn.   The temperature had dropped
considerably as well - a cold-snap moving in was the culprit.

Eric shivered, even with the cold weather clothes Maeve and the others had
found him... her.  I’m still getting used to that too.
Thought Eric.   I guess I don’t have any meat on my bones, thanks
to that sleeping sickness.   It’s lucky I have the strength to even
sit up.   Eric leaned against Kai, glad for the support.
He... she... wasn’t sure she could have stayed upright in the saddle all the
way to Ogden town.  Her strength had faded relatively quickly - quicker
than she expected.   The strength of Kai’s arm around her was reassuring.

“It’s alright if you need to sleep, Eric.”   Kai said.  “I won’t
let you fall.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be alright.  I’m tired, not sleepy - if you know what I
mean by the difference.”  Eric said, grateful for the offer.

“I do.”  Kai smiled.  “You and Christine are doing well.
When Maeve drags me off on her usual adventures, they don’t usually end this
well.”

Christine nearly did a spit-take.  “Well?!  If this is well, then
what’s a badly ending adventure like?”

Maeve shook her head, wryly.   “Kai jests.  This ended as well
as it could - but it wasn’t a glorious success.   Too many people
died - most of them innocent, like the Dreamers - or Sir Tannin, who thought he
was following lawful orders.  Even Eric died, even if he did cheat and get
better.”   Maeve joked - and received a stuck out tongue from Eric in
return.  “No, the only victory we had today, was our survival - and
information.   We now know the Hserinyar and their Order of the Black
Ring are seeking the Lost Tiamat, to bring about the death of the gods of
Man.   We know Mageborn Dreamers might possess links to other
worlds.  We know travel to and from these worlds is possible.  We
need to warn the Council of Hierarchs - who will in turn bring the matter to
the attention of the Muirainne and Fireannor - our High Queen and High King, in
your tongue Eric, Christine.  Soon our part in this tale will be over -
and we can take some well needed time off to rest - and get you trained in
magic, Eric.”

“I have to admit, I’d like to learn to do more.”  Eric agreed.  “Does
it take a long time to learn?”

“It’s like any other skill.”  Maeve said.  “The basics come pretty
quickly, but it can take years, if not a lifetime, to fully master.
And it’s not like you’ll be able to do nothing but train - we’ll have to find
some way to pay your way.  Food and lodging Isn’t free, and neither is
tutoring.”

“How screwed are we, financially speaking?”  Christine asked.

“Not too badly.  I have some money, and I’ll be getting more from this
last job.  I also suspect that the Council may pony up some cash in order
to assist you both - in exchange for you telling us as much as you can about
your world.   We might need to find you some jobs, but you won’t be
beggars, nor without means.”

Well, at least we won’t be behind the eight-ball while we wait to get home.
Thought Christine.   Oh Crap!   My house!
“If we don’t get back soon, I might lose my house!”

Eric looked over and simply said “Sorry Christine... I shouldn’t have got you
mixed up in all this.  I’d take it back if I could.”

Christine sighed.   “Don’t worry about it too much,
squirt.   I suppose I’ll just have to make sure you stay alive this
time...  I don’t even know how we’re going to explain this to your sister
Angie.”  She said the last, while gesturing towards Eric with a sweep of
her arm.

“Tell me about it.”  Laughed Eric.   “If it’ any help, I don’t
think I’m schizophrenic.   I think I know why the voices stopped.”

Maeve looked curious.  “Why, Eric?”

“Well, I think it has to do with my link to the Dreamer - me,
now.   While I was on Earth and she was here, the link between us was
stretched tight, through the Void, like a string with two tin cans at the
ends.  I could hear her a little - and she could hear me a
little.   I think the Demons in the Void were tapping into the link
and sending ‘voices’ to both of us - and it was misinterpreted by doctors on
Earth as schizophrenia.   I mean, I don’t think ALL schizophrenics
are plagued by real demons - but I think in at least my case, I
was.   When I came to Mercia, the ‘string’ of our link wasn’t in the
Void anymore - so voila!  No more evil voices!”

Maeve pondered that for a moment.  Very astute.  Eric is a bright,
bright young man.   “I daresay you’re probably right, but without
a two-way link to test, I guess we’ll never know for sure - for which I am very
glad.  Some things aren’t meant to be known.  Perhaps this is one of
them.”

Christine didn’t know what to say - it sounded too crazy.  “So you think
some of those people who you hear about on the news, who kill their loved ones trying
to exorcise demons might be right?  I hope not - God I hope not!”

Eric shuddered too.   Just a few weeks prior to all the events
leading up to this, a young boy in Alberta had been scalded to death, when his
parents poured boiling water on him to drive out the demons.   To
think that a real demon might even have been involved makes it even more
horrible.  Thought Eric.  Their child would be dead, and they
would be blamed for killing him - and no one would believe the demon they knew
was real, well, was real.   Eric couldn’t imagine how having that
happen to a child of his would make him feel.   “I heard the Vatican
is training new Exorcists all the time.  If I was a jerk, I’d ask ‘do they
know something we don’t?’ - but I don’t think it’s funny anymore after seeing a
demon up close.”

Everyone rode for a while in silence after that.

Christine finally broke the silence.  “Eric.  I hope you’re right -
about the not being schizophrenic.  I know it was a horrific ordeal for
you.  I’m not sure I like the idea of you being targeted by demons better
- but I hope you’re not schizophrenic, really.”

“Thanks, Christine.”  Eric said.   “You know, moments of sheer
terror aside, the last two days of being alone in my head - without the voices
- have been rather refreshing.  I could get used to it.”

Kai laughed - and then paused.  “Do you hear that?” he asked, looking
behind him into the darkness.   The light of the three moons was dim
tonight - he saw nothing.

It was then Maeve heard the flapping of wings.   It can’t be a
drake, She thought.  The people of Ogden town would have seen signs
of it when it hunted.   It isn’t a dragon...   Maeve
had a sinking feeling - from the size and speed of the flapping, there wasn’t
much else it could be...  “SCATTER!” she yelled, and dropped off the back
of her horse.  Landing on the ground with a thump, she slapped the horse
in the rump and yelled “Keep going Christine, and don’t stop - not for
anything!”

Kai, on the other hand, wheeled around to see what the hell was going on - and
saw the shadowy shape of the Uttuku land in the snow, perhaps a dozen yards
from Maeve.  Oh Gods!  He thought.  How can we face
this and survive?   “Eric, get down - I have to help Maeve!”

Eric didn’t need to be told twice.  She gathered herself, and leapt off
Kai’s horse, landing with a painful thud in the ice and snow on the hard frozen
ground.   Dammit.  She thought, feeling every scrape and
pebble.  Not even a bit of padding here - I’m too scrawny after being
an invalid so long.

The demon was large - perhaps nine feet tall, with leathery wings and eyes made
of fire.   We meet again, Maeve Varda. it said, in her
mind.  The reek of fire and brimstone nearly made Maeve gag.  You
are not well liked by certain deceased wizards.

Maeve felt her blood run cold.  The demon is back... Oh Goddess!
She swallowed her fear, and drew her sword.  “Run, you idiots - it only
wants me!”

This time, you are incorrect... I seek one other as well, but he is not
here.  Before I kill you, however, I will make you suffer.
The demon roared - the first sound it made with its immense maw since
arriving.  Kai’s horse panicked, and reared - nearly trampling Eric and
throwing Kai.

Before anyone could react, the demon moved - inhumanly fast, and grappled with
Maeve.  She stabbed it once, twice, three times - to no
effect.   It held her in one claw, arm extended - effortlessly, like
she was a kitten in its hand.   And now to break you.
it said.   Do you know why we like you humans so much
Maeve?  Why we watch you constantly and entertain ourselves with your
downfall.   Because of your endless ability at self
deception.   Imagine - the worst torture you can think of is nothing
- nothing - compared to taking the ability to lie to ones self away from
someone.

And just like that, it reached into Maeve’s mind, and ripped away the film
clouding her memories - the very same film Eric had perceived when he was
connected to her only a few hours earlier.   Maeve screamed -
screamed like she was losing her soul.  Suddenly, the magnitude of
whatever evil they have done falls in upon them, right Maeve?  They try to
run - like you are running now - to avoid their guilt or fear or shame.
But where is there to run when the demons you face are of your own creation.

Kai grabbed the reins, and leapt into the saddle.  Spurring his horse, he
charged the demon, his sword slashing as he raced by.  The blade struck
the demon a solid blow - and had about as much effect as a
raindrop.   With a casual backhand, the demon swatted Kai off his
saddle, and to the ground, prone, his head making a hollow sound as it struck a
rock.  Kai lay motionless - Eric wasn’t even sure if Kai was alive or
not.

What demons are you seeing Maeve?  What will be your way
out?   Most people cannot face what they hide from themselves.
What do you hide Maeve?   Did someone die?  It sneered
maliciously.  Someone always dies... you creatures are like ants -
you live and work and die, and think yourselves the masters of the
universe.   Do you know what the greater part of the universe is
composed of, Maeve?  Darkness.   And in the darkness between the
stars, is US.  There is no escaping us.

Christine was long gone - her horse wouldn’t stop running until it
fainted.  The only one left who could help Maeve, was Eric.   What
do I do?   What can I do?   Eric thought about the gun
- but remembered it didn’t do the cops back home much good against the demon
anyway - and Christine probably still had it anyway from when she emptied the
clip into Bishop Vargas.   If I don’t do something, Maeve’s
dead.... THINK!

*
*          *

Maeve didn’t hear the demon’s taunts... the moment it attacked, the moment it
stripped the film over her mind away, she wasn’t in the woods outside Ogden
town anymore - she was back in Terathel, in the summer, five long years ago
when she and her brother Nile were walking across the cobblestone square to
meet their mother Gillian at the end of a hard days work at the
courthouse...  NO NO NO NO NO NO   she thought, trying to avoid
seeing what came next.  Not this  - I can’t live through this
again!  Not again!

Maeve couldn’t avoid it - the scene played out, like it did in her
nightmares.   Maeve smiled at the thought of her mother Gillian’s
accomplishments.  She had worn a Magistrates' Black for 14 years - almost
all of Niles life.  Maeve wore an embroidered blue cotton dress, which she
had decorated herself in her time off, and carried a basket of fruit, bread,
and meat she had bought at the market.  Nile wore the standard kilt most
children wore in Valris, as well as a light brown linen shirt, stained green
from the grass where they had taken their lunch.   The scene was
crystal clear in her mind - not fuzzy, like a dream, or half-forgotten, like an
old memory.  She was reliving the event, in every way possible, except that
she couldn’t change what happened...

Although it was late in the day, the sun was still far from setting, and people
passed everywhere in the town square, heading to and fro.  Suddenly, the
crowd parted to reveal a man - a Fallen Hserite man.  His skin was
brownish-green, and scaled like a lizard's, and his tongue, although once
human, was now forked.  He was dressed in heavy garb - brown breeches and
knee-length boots, a light brown woollen shirt, and a full cloak.

Like before, Maeve clutched for her short, leaf-bladed sword, and realized she
had left it at home, along with her pistol and other weapons - but unlike
before, when the Fallen raised his pistol to fire - she could still see the
silver inlay, the decorative gold enhancements, and the polished cherry wood
grip - Maeve didn’t try to shove Nile away...   NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO!   Maeve screamed inside her mind ...she grabbed Nile and used him
as a shield, without thinking.  Maeve had saved her life - at the cost of
her brothers.   NOOOOOOOOO!   Her scream of guilt and pain
was loud and long.

The Hserite killer turned and fled, his cloak billowing out behind him.
Maeve screamed, and grabbed at Nile, his body already falling to the
ground.  She plucked at the five-inch long dart of steel in his chest, and
saw its poisoned tip.  Nile's lifesblood pumped from his chest's wound all
over her, but he was already dead.  When Maeve had the presence of mind to
try and pursue the killer, he was already gone, and beyond magical means to
find.

Maeve tried to deny it - tried with all her might, but knew deep inside that
this was the truth, a truth that she couldn’t face so strongly, that her mage
talent had hidden it from her own mind...  Whether to protect her, or salve
her guilt she didn’t know.  It was true... It was all true.
Maeve felt damned.

*
*          *

Nile!  I... I Killed you...  Gods forgive me!   I killed
my own brother!  Oh Gods!   Maeve screamed, both in her mind
and in her body until her voice went hoarse - and somewhere inside she realized
that she hadn’t lost faith in the Gods, because of what happened that
day.  She had lost faith in herself...  All those missions for the
church - all the dangers she faced, she faced because somewhere, inside, she
wanted to die.   To sacrifice her life to try and make amends for her
brother Nile, who she killed because she was afraid.

So, Maeve... What did you see? Asked the demon, this time aloud
as well as within her mind.  What evils did you perform that plague
you so?

Maeve tried to speak, but the demon’s grasp around her throat was too tight -
all that came out was a croaking groan.   It’s alright, Maeve -
I’ll say if for you... You killed your brother, and you want to die.  Is
that right?

This is it.  Eric thought.   If I don’t do something now,
Maeve is going to die.  Eric didn’t know if what he... she was going
to do would work - but knew if she did nothing, Maeve would die in the worst
way he could imagine.

It’s all right, Maeve.  You were always going to join
us.   We live in the weak - the weak and the wounded.
It’s time to come with me, into the endless darkness!  You want to
die?  LET ME HELP YOU!   As the demon spoke the last,
its voice raised in volume, and dropped in timbre - it raised its talons to
strike - and screamed in agony, as a bolt of coruscating light struck it,
boiling away its spiritual flesh and bone like smoke.

Maeve fell roughly to the ground as the demon dropped her, and lay senseless,
gasping for air.  I may want to die because of what I did, you evil
piece of shit.  She thought. ...But I’ll decide when that day is - NOT
YOU!   She tried to get up, but couldn’t.  All she could see
was spots - her vision had gone gray when the demon was choking the life out of
her.   She could barely gasp for air.

The demon whirled - to see Eric, panting, tired.   White hot magic
dripped from her hands as she summoned more energy to hurl at the
fiend.   “Hey ugly!”  She yelled.   “Have some more,
you fucking asshole!”   Eric threw more magical fire at the creature
- and it screamed again as it burned, the white hot magical plasma sticking to
it like jellied gasoline.

The demon roared in pain - and began to charge Eric... until the commands that
bound him pulled him back.   He couldn’t deal with Eric until Maeve
was broken, body and soul - that was the command.  He turned back towards
Maeve.

God dammit this hurts!  Thought Eric.  I feel like I’m on
fire!   I’m hurting him - but not enough.  What do I do?
Eric’s thoughts whirled about at what seemed like a thousand miles an
hour.   Binding.  She thought.  That’s what I’m
good at, right?   The forces that hold things together - or force
them apart. She had an idea.

Eric summoned what was left of her strength - and forced it all into one mighty
push...  He took the energy and directed it all at the demon.  She
felt aflame again - like she was burning.  Like the stars!
She thought... and then everything went
black.

The demon, on the other hand felt nothing but pain - as every particle that
made up his body - both physical and spiritual - ripped themselves apart in an
orgy of atomic destruction.  In the space of less than a second, the demon
was turned to ash - disintegrated.   Whether or not its spirit or
soul, if it even possessed one, survived to reenter the void, was unknown.
It was utterly gone.

*
*          *

Maeve lay prone on the ground, choking, gasping for breath.  She could see
the demon, on fire, burning from raw magical energy being blasted into
it.   NO!  She thought.  Eric, no!  Not for
me, dammit!  I’m not worth it...   The demon turned to
attack Eric - and then paused, and turned back towards Maeve.   Maeve
made her peace with the Gods - she knew she would be seeing them soon.

The demon poised to strike - and then something odd happened...  A beam of
greenish white light shot from Eric’s open palm, and struck the demon.
The demon looked confused for a second, then it simply disappeared.  Gone
- like it never existed.   All that was left was ashes.
Maeve stared in shock, her jaw dropped.   That’s not possible.
She thought.  Utterly impossible.

She staggered to her feet, and walked
around the scorch mark that marked the ending place of the demon.  How?
Then she moved over to Kai, and heard him groan.  He’ll live... Thank the
Gods!   Then she realized the state Eric was in.  Eric needs
help...  I can deal with my guilt later.  Eric needs help
now.   How much energy did she channel?  Maeve tried to
calculate what kind of damage Eric might have done to herself - and didn’t want
to think about it.   She simply prayed she would be
alright.   She grabbed Eric and threw her over Kai’s horse, and leapt
to the saddle.  We’re not far from Anvi’s - I pray I’m in time.
Goddess, hear my prayer!  Please save Eric, please!   She
spurred the horse and rode as fast as she dared.

*
*          *

Christine didn’t get far on her horse - never an expert rider, she made it
about a quarter of a mile before a low-hanging branch knocked her
down.   It was then, in the moments after she picked herself up, that
she noticed she was alone.  Where the hell is Eric, Kai and Maeve?
She heard a woman’s scream back the way she came, and knew it was
Maeve.   I’ve got to go back.  I’ve got to do something.
Christine knew it was stupid, and that there was probably nothing she could do
- but she didn’t care.  “I can’t leave Eric and Kai to face that
thing.   Hell, even Maeve doesn’t deserve to face it alone. I need to
get back.”  Christine started to run back towards her friends.
I’m coming, guys!

She hadn’t got far, before she was nearly trampled by Maeve on Kai’s horse,
with Eric - bleeding badly - tossed roughly across the saddle.   Ohmygod!
Is Eric going to be all right?  She thought.   Is the
demon gone?  What happened to Kai?   Fearing the worst, and
realizing she couldn’t catch a galloping horse, she raced back to the scene of
their ambush, to see if Kai was alive or dead.

When she got to the clearing, Kai was still prone, clutching his head and
moaning.  There was blood on his scalp, and in the snow where his head had
hit a rock.   Oh no!   Christine thought.  His
poor head!   She rushed over to help Kai sit up - he looked
woozy, and confused.

“Wha... What happened?”  Kai asked.   “Where’s
Maeve?  Where’s the Demon?”

“I don’t know about the demon - but Maeve was galloping as fast as she could
towards Ogden town, with Eric tossed over her saddle.  Can you
walk?”   She looked around, and saw signs of a battle - but no sign of
large amounts of blood, or anything other than a large pile of ashes, blowing
away on the wind.

“I don’t know.”  Kai tried to stand, and nearly fell over - but managed
after a minute or so, with Christine’s help to achieve a more-or-less upright
stance.   “I think I can walk.  I can’t see straight, but I
think I can walk.”  He said.

“Good.  I don’t know what’s wrong with her or Eric, but she didn’t even
slow down as she passed me.  It can’t be good.”  Please be all
right.  She thought.  Please.   “We should
go.   Where do you think they’re going?”

“If I were hurt, I’d probably head to Anvi’s house, considering the town gates
are probably shut tight till dawn.  I’d go to Anvi’s.”

Kai wobbled on his feet, and Christine grunted at the weight he put on
her.  At least He’s lighter than Eric was... although I guess He’s not
a butterball anymore.   “Then it looks like that’s where we’re
going too.  Let’s go.”  It sounds like Kai has a nasty concussion
at the very least.   I hope its not worse.   Hell, I hope
he doesn’t black out - there’s no way I can carry him by myself.

The two of them staggered slowly through the early spring night.

*
*          *

Maeve pounded on the fine wooden door of Anvi’s cottage.  She could hear
the ruckus was bothering some of the neighbors.  Screw them, she
thought.  I’ll bake them a damn pie to say sorry.
“Anvi!  Open up, gods dammit!  I need you!”   A nearby dog
started barking, and Maeve heard footsteps inside the small home.

“Dammit, Maeve!  Do you know what time it is?   The bounds of
friendship go only so far!”  Anvi’s voice sounded tired, angry, and
worried all at the same time.  The door lock unlatched, and Maeve pushed
her way inside, carrying Eric over her shoulder and shoving Anvi
aside.

“Maeve, who the hell do you think you are?  This isn’t some random
hospital!   What happened to common courtesy?”    Anvi
looked more than a little angry - but then he saw the young woman Maeve
carried, his angry tone faded.  It was obvious he didn’t realize she was
Eric.   “What in the seven hells happened, Maeve?  Or can you
tell me?”  Even as he asked, he grabbed for his herb pouch and a storm
lamp to better examine the patient Maeve had brought him.

“She’s been Kissed by the Void, hard Anvi.  She saved my life.  If
you can, please - save hers.”

“I’ll try. Get out of my way, woman.”  Anvi shoved Maeve out of the way,
and put Eric on the kitchen table.   As he examined her, he activated
the Sight.   Anvi had learned battlefield medicine many years ago, in
the Madragan wars.   A nasty fall had broken his hip and ended his
horseback riding days, but time had withered none of his healing skills.
In time, he moved north and west to Ogden town, and set up shop as a
healer.  It was a good life - occasionally marred by unexpected visitors -
like the last few nights.   “She has been Kissed, badly.  As
badly as I ever saw.”  He grasped her head in his hands - skin contact
made the spell more powerful - and concentrated.   His mouth spoke
the words of Body - that binds the flesh and spirit together - and strengthened
her body enough that she would not die.

Maeve watched fearfully as Anvi worked his magic, and saw color come back into
Eric’s face, and the worst of the damage seemed to fade from her as Anvi used
his skill to erase wounds that might have killed her, or caused permanent
injury.   Anvi had always been one of the best of the healers Maeve
had ever known - it was a shame he’d had to retire from his injury - she knew
he loved to ride horses, even now.

Anvi let go of Eric, and stepped back.  “She’ll live, I think.”  He
said.  “So what the hell happened, Maeve?  You look like
shit.”

Maeve couldn’t help but laugh - at first hysterically, but then, more
naturally, with her morgue humor.   “It’s been a really, really long
day.”

“Not just for you, Maeve.  What’s going on?  Where’s Kai - and Eric
and Christine?  Did they ever find you?”  Anvi looked worried - he knew
of Maeve’s tendency to get the people around her killed.  It was a nasty
rumor that followed her around like a bad penny.

“Yes... they’re fine, or should be.  Like I said, it’s a long story.”

“Well, then.”  A third voice said - Anvi’s wife, Maria had apparently
heard the ruckus and come downstairs.  Her hair was mussed, and she was
still in her nightshirt.   “Perhaps we should put on a kettle for
some tea, and talk while we wait for your friend to wake up.”

Maeve looked like she wanted to do anything but talk - but Maria and Anvi had
put up with a lot of trouble for her recently.  I owe them that much.
She thought.     “Okay, but I warn you - it’s a strange
story, and not for the faint of heart...”   She sat and began the
tale as Maria put on a kettle, and Anvi sat across from her,
listening.   She was still telling it when Kai and Christine came to
the door, a half hour later.

Chapter 16 - Axe and Flagon

When Christine and Kai reached the outskirts of Ogden town, they were
exhausted.   Christine had found their errant horse - the one that
threw her - with its halter tangled in some bushes, about a half mile further
towards town.

Thank god we found the horse!  She thought.  Kai’s looking
pretty weak - he might not have made it and I can’t drag him.

Kai saw the horse too, and smiled.  “Let me try to mount him,
Christine.  If I can ride, we’ll be able to travel easier.”
Kai was still more than a bit wobbly on his feet, but his vision was clearing,
and he wasn’t seeing double or triple anymore.

“Okay, Kai - just be careful.  You don’t need to fall again - hitting your
head that badly twice in one day is twice too often.”

“To be fair,” Kai said with a small grin.  “The first time I hit my head,
someone was swinging a mace at it.  I call that one not my fault.”

“Details, details.”  Christine smirked.  He sounds like He’s going
to be okay.  Good.

The rest of the journey was tiring, but relatively easy, and about fifteen
minutes later, Kai and Christine arrived at the outskirts of Anvi Marcello’s
home.  Some of Anvi’s neighbors were outside doing normal chores and tasks
- chopping wood, drawing water, or feeding farm animals such as hogs and
chickens.  Others seemed slower to rise.   No one was outside
Anvi and Maria’s home.

Christine helped Kai down from the horse carefully, and tied the horse to a
hitching post before limping over to Anvi’s door and knocking.  My feet
are killing me.  I wish I had my Ugg’s.  Christine thought.
At least they were comfortable and warm - not like these torturous things.
She looked at the hand made leather boots she was wearing.  Ah, who am
I kidding.  It’s probably because these were made for Maria, not me - and
I’m still wearing them in.  Has it only been two days?

The door opened to reveal Maria, dressed in her
nightgown, hair still mussed.   When she saw Christine and Kai, her
smile brightened, and she ushered them in.  “Husband, you may have another
patient to deal with.”  She said, fussing over Kai’s head wound.
“You should take care of yourself better, young man.”

Kai grimaced as Anvi’s wife patted the two rather large lumps on his head, and simply
said “Yes Ma’am.”  He and Christine followed Maria into the kitchen, to
see Maeve, nursing what looked like a mug of tea, talking to Anvi.
She looks like hell, Thought Kai.   “You okay, Maeve?”

Maeve shook her head.  “No, not really Kai.  It’ll be a long time
before I’m okay again, if ever.”

Anvi looked worried, as did Kai.  I know this last outing of ours was
rough - but it must have been rougher than even we’re used to.
Kai looked to Anvi and asked “Is Eric going to be alright?”

“Yes.” Anvi said.  “If you mean, will she heal.  She’ll probably
sleep half the day before waking, but she’ll heal - Maeve got her to me in
time.  If you’re asking how Eric will adjust to being a young woman -
well, no one can answer that except Eric.”  Anvi shooed his wife away from
Kai’s injuries, so he could take a look.  “You’ve got some nasty bumps
there too, Kai.  You had better come with me - I’d feel much better if I
did some healing on you - head wounds can be very tricky things to deal with.”

“That would be great, Anvi - thank you.”  Kai stood up carefully, and left
the kitchen with Anvi.   Maria looked at the two women - Christine
and Maeve - and said “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I should get dressed in
something a bit more appropriate.  Make yourselves at home.”
Maria saw Maeve nod, and Christine relax sipping some tea she had just poured,
and seemed content.

“Thank you again, Maria.”  Christine said.  “I can’t even describe
how heavenly this tea tastes after what we’ve been through the last few days.”

“Aye, you’ve all been through a lot.   Take care - I’ll be back
shortly.”  Maria left and headed upstairs.

Christine sipped her tea, trying to warm up and calm down.   Maeve
looked stricken - the only thing that came close to describing how it looked to
Christine, was she had that ‘someone died’ look.   She saw that look
once when she lost her fourteen year-old cousin to a drunk driver.  Her
Aunt Millicent had come to talk to Christine’s mom, Susan, about the funeral
arrangements.  Aunt Millicent had that look.  She’d seen it more than
once in her duties as a social worker as well.   Something bad has
happened.  Thought Christine.   Something really bad.

Christine thought about asking her.  Maybe it would be better to get it
out in the open?   She decided to test the waters... feel out if
it was the right time, or not.  “I know you don’t know much about who I
am, or what I do for a living Maeve, so I thought I’d tell you.
Back home, we have a group of people whose job it is to help other people get
through rough times, and problems they can’t seem to beat on their own.
We facilitate them getting help from government agencies - but a lot of the
time, we just talk to them, to try and see if we can help.
Sometimes, having a willing ear can be worth a lot.”   Christine
sipped her tea.   “I’m only saying this because you look like you
have something on your mind - something bothering you a great deal.
I guess what I’m saying is that if you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

Maeve listened to Christine’s speech, and smirked.  “Here, we call those
people priests.”

Christine smirked too.  “Well, back home they’re called Social
Workers.  Sometimes they overlap duties with our priests, but since our
government tries to keep religion out of the mix, we aren’t really allowed to
let our religious feelings show.  Too afraid of offending someone, I
guess.”

So strange, Maeve thought.  Their world is so different from
ours.  “Why would the government be afraid of offending some
people?  If the people want religion in their government, why can they not
have it?   Again, your world sounds strange to me.”

“Well, imagine how Eric and I feel here.   Everyone here is very
religious compared to people back home - and magic being a thing has made
everything here different too - we don’t have magic, and the Void, and all that
stuff back home.”

“What about those... what were they?   The fast vehicle that Eric
drove into your fence?”

“Cars?”  Christine winced, thinking about the fence.  If I get
back home, I have no idea how I’m going to explain how a stolen police car got
onto my lawn.  She shuddered a bit, remembering the last time she saw
that car - her neighbour Tom Simpson was being devoured by a demon on the car,
like it was a deranged and gruesome buffet table.

“Yes - those.  Are they not magical?”

“Not in the way I think you mean it.   They’re complicated machines -
but they run on a motor made of steel and iron, fuelled by refined crude
oil.  The oil burns inside the engine, which turns some wheels - and those
wheels make the car move forward.  Other levers attached to the controls
inside the car allow the driver to steer the car, or speed it up or slow it
down - but anyone with the materials and knowledge to do so could make
one.  It’s not an inborn talent, like what you seem to have here.”

“So it’s like a pocket-watch, made of gears and cogs - nothing more?”
Maeve looked rather surprised.  “What about the lights that don’t flicker
- the ones that burn without fire?”

“A bit more complicated.”  Christine said.  “We learned to harness
lightning, and run it through tiny wires to light up rooms.  It can be
dangerous to use - but we’ve adapted so much of our life to using it, it seems
normal.   Again, its not an inborn talent - anyone who chooses to
learn it, can.”

Maeve considered all Christine had said for a moment.  “I think your
people might have a great deal in common with the artificers of
Madragoor.   They love machines and tinkering with cogs and steam,
and all manner of artifices.   Interesting.”   She paused a
moment.   “The people of Valris - where we are now - live a different
lifestyle.  The lands are ruled by the High King and Queen, who are
counselled by the heads of the Church.   Church leaders here are
virtually nobles in their own right, except that they don’t need to be of noble
birth to attain their rank.  A Hierarch of the council, for example, might
actually wield more power than a landed Duke, depending on the province and the
relative wealth of the church compared to the Dukes lands.”  Maeve paused
for some tea herself.

“We’re content for the most part, to till the soil, worship our gods, and live
life as it comes, compared to Madragoor.  Compared to us, they are always
busy, with an inordinate fascination with greed that is, I think, their
greatest weakness.  They like artifices of all kinds - but eschew the old
ways because they think ‘newer is better’ - when sometimes, newer is just...
newer.   Valdans tend to honor and respect their traditions, unless a
very convincing reason to change them becomes known.  I guess you could
say if it was good enough for our forefathers, then its good enough for
us.”

Christine realized Maeve had changed the topic - and although it was
interesting learning about Mercia and its places, she really wanted to deal
with what was bothering Maeve.   “I guess it’s going to take a while
for us to really know everything about Mercia.  I was more concerned with
you, Maeve.”   She looked at her empty teacup, and thought of
refilling it.  When did I even finish that?  She must be more
tired than she thought.  “If you want to talk about it, whatever it is,
I’m here.”

Maeve considered Christine’s offer.  She does seem willing to listen -
and she can’t think any worse of me - she already thinks I was going to kill
her and Eric.  Why is she even trying to help me?  Maeve had seen
Christine though all of their travails - she supported Eric, tried to be brave
and help in battles she wasn’t suited for or trained for - and kept peoples
spirits up when they felt bad.  Maybe I’ve just seen too much evil to
recognise a truly good person when I first meet them.  Thought
Maeve.  Maybe I should change that.

Maeve looked like she was about to speak, when both she and Christine heard
what sounded like Anvi and Kai approaching.   Christine saw Maeve
clamp down on whatever she was going to say, and cursed.   Great
timing, as usual.  Christine thought.

Anvi and Kai came into the kitchen, and it was plain to see that Kai felt much
better.  He wasn’t wobbly on his feet, and he carried himself with his
usual assured swagger.  Even the two knots on his head seemed like they
were much smaller.  All in all, he looked good.

“Hello, Serra’s” Kai said.  “Master Anvi has done his usual excellent
work, and I feel much better.”

“Well don’t you look chipper.”  Said Christine, smiling.   “I’m
glad to see you walking and not ready to fall down.”

“Same here.”  Maeve said.   “I was worried I’d gotten you in
over your head, Kai.  I’m sorry.”  Maeve’s look of concern was
apparent.

Anvi poured himself a cup of tea, and sat down, and smiled at his wife, Maria,
who just came back down from getting dressed.  She looked much less
bedraggled in her green woolen dress, and brushed hair than before, when Maeve
had woken her in the early hours of the morning.   Maria and Anvi
shared a kiss, and Maria poured herself a cup of tea as well - and offered to
refresh Christine’s and Maeve’s cups.

“I’ve heard the short version of your tale, Maeve.”  Anvi said.  “Why
don’t you and Kai, and Christine pull up a chair and tell me the whole
thing.  It’ll be a few hours before Eric is up and about, at the very
least.  What did you get yourself into this time?”

Kai laughed.  “Well, it began for me about three weeks ago in the woods
around Wethom...  Maeve came to visit from Arathel, and said she needed my
help getting to the backwoods of Orvan province, some little place called the
House of Broken Dreams.   It would be easy, she said - quickly in,
quickly out.   As you can see, it didn’t exactly go according to
plan...”

*
*          *

A few hours later, the tale of their recent adventure told, Anvi and Maria
shook their heads in disbelief.  “Only you could put so many people in
danger so quickly, and see them out of danger just as quickly, Maeve
Varda.”   Maria said.   “I don’t know how many lives you
are blessed with, but you surely used a few these past few days!”

“I suppose I have, at that Maria.  I’m just glad we all survived...
Although I don’t know how Eric survived, except by the grace of the Goddess
herself.   I can’t explain it - I’m just glad he... she’s still
here.”  As troubled as Maeve was at the moment, that was one thing that
did make her feel better.  At least she’s not dead.   Survive
first - everything else comes later.  Advice I guess I could use
myself.  Oh Nile!

“Excuse me.”  Maeve said  “I need some air.”   Maeve rose
from the table, and made her way outside, apparently to get some air.

As Maeve got up from the table, Christine realized this might be her chance to
talk to Maeve.  “Maybe I should go see if Maeve’s alright.  I’ll be
back in a moment.”

Kai nodded.  “Be careful Christine.  Something’s bothering her
badly.”

Christine went to the front hall, and put her boots back on - they had dried
and were stiff and difficult to get on, but she managed.  At least they
were warmer, now that they were dry again, she thought.   She went
outside, and couldn’t see Maeve, until she went to the woodshed.  Maeve
was huddled on the ground, her knees clasped in her arms, and she was crying -
heavy, powerful sobs of grief.

Christine didn’t say anything.  She just sat down next to Maeve, and put
her arm over her shoulder.  They sat there for some time, while Maeve
cried and cried.  Time passed.   Maeve finally sniffled a bit,
wiped her runny nose on a hastily produced handkerchief, and said “Thanks.”

“I don’t know what’s got you so upset, Maeve, but I can’t help you if you won’t
talk about it.”  Christine said, trying to help Maeve find an opening -
give her the opportunity to let it out.  It worked.

“Four years ago... four years ago, I was targeted for assassination by the
Hserinyar - the same bastards that Vargas served.”   Maeve steeled
herself - but she knew if she didn’t say it, she never would, and it would eat
at her - and eventually kill her.  “When the assassin came, I... I used my
little brother as a human shield.  He died, and I lived - and I wish it
was the other way around.   I didn’t think about it - there wasn’t
time... It was just gut reflex and reaction, but it doesn’t matter.  My
beautiful brother Nile is dead because of me.  I don’t deserve to live.
Eric reminds me so much of him, if he had time to grow up - and Eric nearly
died too.”

Christine quieted a gasp at Maeve’s admission - it definitely would not have
helped the situation.  She knew a few veterans who had similar feelings -
they were hip deep in trouble, with stress and adrenaline pumping through their
system better than any designer drug could ever hope to do - and they reacted,
without pausing and without thinking.   Sometimes they regretted what
they did when they reacted - like Maeve was now.  I can’t believe she’d
consciously do that to her brother.   “But Eric didn’t die,
Maeve.  Sure, He’s a little different now...”  They both laughed a
bit at that.  “But he’s alive.   And if you truly were the evil
person you say you are, would you really be so broken up about losing your
brother in that tragic attack?   I don’t think so.”

Maeve tried to interject, saying “But...”

“No - don’t interrupt.  I’ve seen a lot of people, Maeve, as part of my
work.  Some are the kindest people whom you’d ever want to meet - and some
are the worst scum you’d ever have the misfortune of meeting.   I’m
not talking about killers and murderers - I’m talking about selfish, petty
people who think nothing of using other people to their advantage, without a
thought to the effects or consequences of their actions.   They care
nothing for anyone else on the Earth except themselves, their desires, and
their needs.  Everything around them is either a tool to use and take
advantage of, or something to ignore.  They blame everyone else for their
problems, and nothing is ever their fault.   They take responsibility
for nothing, and destroy everyone else around them.    You
aren’t like them, Maeve.  Do you understand me?  You.  Aren’t.
Like.  Them.   Just by the fact that your guilt is tearing you
apart, shows me you’re a decent human being.   I believe you didn’t
mean to do it.  I really do.   You just need to forgive yourself
- if you can.”

“I...”  Maeve was choked up with emotion.  She didn’t know what to
say.  Christine had every reason to hate her - and here she was, telling
me how it wasn’t Maeve’s fault.   “I don’t know if I can, yet - but
thank you, Christine.  You’re a really good person.”

Christine laughed a little.  “Thanks, Maeve.  Could you let my boss
know when I get back?  I could use the raise at work...”   That
made both of them laugh.

Christine stood up, and brushed the snow and such off her pants.  “I’m
gonna go inside, and see if Eric’s awake yet.  I’ll see you when you come
in.”

Maeve looked up and nodded, sniffing.  “Thanks.”

*
*          *

Inside, Eric was stirring.  Ouch!  My frikking head is killing me!
Eric thought.   Where the hell am I?   He opened his
eyes and saw it was a small bedroom that smelled of pine, and a hint of
lavender or some other similar floral scent.  Sun was pouring in some
old-fashioned glass windows, and he was on a bed piled liberally with heavy
sheets and blankets.   He could hear people talking downstairs - he
thought he heard what sounded like Kai’s voice.  Eric felt a bit sore from
his magical exertions, and his head troubled him - it felt like before, when he
had the voices, but different somehow.  Not like the demons - but like
something else.   I feel safe - where ever I am.
Eric rested a moment, before she remembered what happened in the last minutes
of consciousness.  Maeve!  The demon said she killed her brother
and wanted to die!   I have to tell her what Seleni said!

Eric moved the heavy blankets off of himself with some effort.  Gah!
He thought.  My new arms look like matchsticks.  Seriously, I feel
like I’ve got no strength at all.   Finally able to get up, Eric
moved towards the door to his bedroom, when he passed in front of a full-length
mirror, and saw himself - the new him - for the first time.  He caught his
breath in shock.   Holy shit!  I’m beautiful!
He let his eyes wander, and gave him... herself a good look.

She was maybe five foot six, with long red hair that framed her face
nicely.  Her face was oval in shape, with high cheek bones, and attractive
features.  Her eyes were bright green, like jade.  She had a smooth
arching neck - and as her eyes fell below her neck she saw she had other
feminine endowments under her shift - she couldn’t tell how ample, but it was
enough to show, even as emaciated as she was.  Her build was average -
neither tall nor short, heavy boned or built like a bird, she supposed - with
the exception that she was so damn skinny.  Damn!  I’m not even
attractive skinny, like a pretty model - but sickly skinny, like those models
people are trying to ban back home.  And I’m still beautiful despite all
that.  Eric realized she was probably exaggerating more than a little,
but it was a drastic change from what she was used to.  Before ending up
in the Dreamer, Eric had been six feet tall and 290 pounds, with a
broad-shouldered build.  Now, she felt like a fragile, ethereal pixie that
would blow away in a stiff wind.   I’m not even sure I’d break 100-110
pounds as I am now, she thought.  Wow.  After seeing
himself in the mirror, it was hard to think of himself as ... as a him
anymore.   I’m a girl.  She thought.  Wow...
Eric had wanted this for so long, she didn’t know what to do about it.  Should
she cheer?  Jump for joy?  Pretend to be upset?   Yeah,
like I’ll be able to pull that off... Not around Christine anyway.
Christine had always been able to read her pretty good.  I can’t go home
like this... No one would recognize me.  I wouldn’t even legally be a
person!   What do I do?  Perhaps I should have been a little
more careful about what I wished for.  Eric thought.  Now I’ve
got it, and there’s no going back.  She stared for a few more minutes,
trying to take all the changes in, then remembered her original goal, and left
to find Maeve.

Eric followed the sound of voices down a hall to a set of wooden stairs.
The rooms she passed were neat and tidy, and there were little rustic touches
of home everywhere, from tiny carved figurines on the shelves, to small vases
with dried wildflowers, to hand-made furniture carved with elaborate
designs.  One room seemed to have a partially woven rug on a small loom,
not yet finished.   Moving down the stairs, Eric recognized the other
voices she heard.  Its Anvi and Maria!  They must have brought me
here, after I blacked out.

She shuffled down the stairs, and towards the kitchen, but was met halfway by
Maria.  “Well, look who’s awake.  How are you doing,
Eric?”   Kai’s chair scraped across the floor as he came to say hello
as well.  She could hear the others - Christine, Maeve - coming as well.

“Hey sleeping beauty!  You’re up!”  Christine said.

“Ha ha.”  Eric joked.   “I’m not bad Maria...  My head
hurts a lot - I’m a bit confused.  It’s weird.”   Eric moved
towards Maria and Kai.  “Could I get something to eat?”

Maria laughed.  “Of course.  I’ll get you some
soup.  Kai, for the Twin’s sake, get out of her way so she can sit
down...”   Kai bashfully stepped aside.

Anvi rose, and came over as Eric entered the kitchen.  He asked “May I?”,
making motions like he would like to examine her eyes.   Eric nodded,
and Anvi gave a good look.   “I don’t see any haemorrhaging - I think
most of the damage is minor, if there’s any at all.   Maeve should
look you over later.”

“Maeve?”  Eric called.

“I’m here, Eric.  What’s wrong?”  Maeve pulled a chair out for Eric
at the table.

“I heard what the demon said.”  Eric said, seeing Maeve’s friendly
expression go flat in an instant.  “And I wanted to talk to you about
it.”   This isn’t going well.  She thought.

“I... I really don’t want to talk about it, Eric.”   Maeve looked
away, trying to hide her expression from him.  It was plain she was upset.

“It’s important...  When I... when I died I saw this young woman, with
black hair wearing a green dress, with a bow and a ring of weird glass keys,
like I described to you before - and she said that ‘You may have given up on
them - but the gods haven’t given up on you.’  She said to tell you that
you were forgiven.  I didn’t know what that meant, until I heard the Demon
at the end.”

Maeve didn’t know what to say...  Tears welled up in her eyes,
uncontrolled, and poured down her cheeks.  She gathered Eric into a
powerful hug, and just held her.   It went on for some time, until
she broke the hug, and wiped the tears from her face.  “Thank you,
Eric.  I don’t know that I deserve it, but thank you for telling me.”
And thank you, Goddess.  I don’t deserve your grace, but I will
strive to be worthy of it again.

“Enough with the hugging.”  Maria said, holding out a heavy bowl of
soup.  “You’re practically skin and bones, girl.  You need to eat
something.  Come, eat.”   She sounded so much like the
stereotypical Jewish mother that Christine couldn’t help but
chuckle.

*
*          *

Two hours later, the group of friends left the Marcello residence, to head to
Ogden town.  Maeve’s argument was that she and her troubles had
inconvenienced Anvi and Maria enough, and they would instead leave their
gracious hosts to a peaceful night, while they headed to an inn in Ogden town.
Anvi was incensed that Maeve initially turned down his hospitality - but even
he could see that his small cottage home didn’t have room for all four of them
overnight.   Maria was gracious as well, but even she seemed a bit
relieved when the four travellers left and headed for town.

“I think it was really nice of Anvi and his wife to let us keep these amulets
for a while.” Christine said.  “How long can we keep them?”

“No later than the middle of Allgreen - about a month and a half.”  Maeve
said.

“Is Allgreen the actual name of a month, or is it a flowery way of saying
‘until spring’?”

Maeve groaned.  This is going to turn into one of those gigantic
explanations.  She thought.  “It’s the name of a month.
Please, can we just get to the inn?”

“Okay.”  Said Eric.

The Inn turned out to be a two story building in Ogden town, with a field stone
base and a timber second floor, with a thatched roof.   The
establishment was marked with a wooden sign Kai and Maeve claimed read ‘The Axe
and Flagon’.   Inside, the building proved to be fairly clean - there
were rushes and straw scattered about on the floor, and several lamps to
provide light.   A taproom was off to one side, with a few customers
enjoying its offerings, while a wide stairway provided access to the upper
floor to the left of the front desk.   To the left of that, they
could smell, if not see, the kitchens.

A neatly dressed woman of about 40 sat behind a counter, which had several
hooks, each with a key dangling from it.   She looked up, and greeted
them kindly.  “Welcome to the Axe and Flagon!  My name is Lauren
Whittle.  Will you be wanting a room, Ser and Serras, or perhaps more than
one room?”

“Do you have a room that sleeps four, Serra Whittle?”  Maeve asked.

“No, Serra, unless you and your friends would like the common room.  A
place by the hearth is very affordable.”

“We would prefer privacy.”

“I have two rooms, each with two beds available.  Would they do?”
Lauren looked at the keys available on the board behind her.  “You could
get two rooms across the hall from each other, or beside each other.
We’ve not got a lot of people staying at the moment, so you can take your
pick.”

“I think across from each other would be fine, unless
the ones beside each other have a connecting door.  If you have that, it
would be my choice.”

“I’m sorry, but no...  Across the hall it is then.  Here’s your
keys.”  Lauren said.  “The fee is five crescents a day, per
room.  It includes breakfast in the morning, and dinner this
evening.  Any drinks from the taproom are extra.”

“That will be fine.”  Maeve took the keys, and turned to Kai.  “Kai,
why don’t you give me your pack and I’ll take it up to our room.  Take
Christine to the taproom and order dinner - I have to examine Eric.”

“Sure thing, Maeve.  No bogroot, right?”  Kai asked, handing Maeve
his pack, and Eric, Christine’s pack.  Eric nearly crumpled under the
weight.

“Hey what?  Examine me?”  Eric said from underneath Christine’s
pack.  “Didn’t Anvi already do that?”

“Damn right.”  Maeve said to Kai.  “I can’t stand that stuff.”
Turning to Eric Maeve continued “I need to see if you’re okay.  In the
head okay.  Magic okay.”

“Okay.” said Eric.  “If it’s important, then let’s go.”   Eric
didn’t know what could be wrong, but she was still new to magic.  If Maeve
was going to be her teacher, she’d better start following the rules.

“Will you be long?”  Asked Kai.

“Hope not.”  Maeve answered.  “Order me a flagon or two.  It’s
been that kind of week.”

*
*          *

Christine and Kai found a booth across the taproom, fairly quiet and private
far from the hearth.  It was a bit dark, but the light from a storm lamp
was sufficient to see.   Christine could see about a half-dozen
people drinking and talking at various tables.  Two were playing a dice game
with strange looking dice.  They kind of look like some Dungeons and
Dragons dice.  She had never played the game, but saw the dice more
than once at college and thought they were interesting.  She had wondered
at the time what exactly they were used for, but wasn’t interested at the time
in becoming a social pariah to find out.

Kai raised his hand and a barmaid hustled over.   She introduced
herself as Shelley, and soon Kai had ordered four dinners (with no bogroot) and
four flagons of local beer.

“I’m not sure I want to drink, Kai.  Can’t we get fruit juice or water or
tea?”   Christine asked.  “And what’s bogroot?”

“Well, the water might not be safe to drink, and fruit juice is too expensive in
the winter.  I suppose if you’d like we could get tea if you like, but I
thought the beer would help fill you up and keep you going.  If you
prefer, I could order some hard cider?”

Oh right...  We’re PH... Pre Hygiene.  Everyone drank beer because
the water was bad.  Duh.   “Well, when in Rome.”  She
said.   “Uh... it’s a saying from back home.  I know we’re not
in Rome.  It means I guess I’ll have the beer.”

“Alright.”  Kai chuckled.  “What does it really mean?”

“Well the full quote goes something like when in Rome, do as the Romans
do.  It means when you’re in a foreign country, follow the local customs.”

“Good advice.  Oh, and bogroot is an edible tuber, like a carrot or a
potato, that grows near marshy ground.  It has a strong flavor, which some
like and some dislike.  Maeve is in the ‘put that on my plate and I’ll
kill you’ camp.”

Christine couldn’t help but laugh at that.  “Gotcha.”  Sort of
like me and lima beans.  She thought.  I can’t stand how they
always taste sandy and gritty, no matter how you cook the things.

*
*          *

Maeve and Eric climbed the stairs to the second floor and found their
rooms.  They were cramped, by Eric’s modern standards, but Maeve thought
they were decent and serviceable.  She tossed her pack and Kai’s into her
room, and locked the door, and followed Eric into her room, closing the door
behind her.

Eric in the meantime, claimed a bed by the window, and put Christine’s pack on
the other bed.  The beds were wood-framed, and the mattresses where
straw-filled.  There was a feather pillow on each bed, and each bed’s
headboard had a sprig of pungent herbs Eric couldn’t identify dangling from a
small hook.   A small table was between the two beds; on it was a
candle and a glass shield, to protect the flame from being blown
out.   A wash basin was under the table, and a pitcher to hold water
was beside it.  In the corner, Eric thought she saw something that was
probably a chamber-pot.

Maeve waited until Eric put her packs down, and sat on what she assumed was
Christine’s bed.   “When I said I needed to examine you, Eric, I
didn’t mean medically.   Why don’t you sit - this will probably be a
bit of a learning experience for you, and it might be easier to be sitting.”

“Umm.  Okay.”

“Do you remember the night you and Christine met Kai, and I told you some
things about the nature of magic - the Call of Hrask?”  Maeve asked.

“Yeah.”  Eric said, a little worried.   “Am I in trouble?
My head has been feeling weird.  Am I okay?”

“Probably.  I’d like to guide you, to help you check for yourself if
you’re okay or not.  Do you remember when I said everyone’s threshold is
different?   Well, we need to see if you went over yours when you
did... whatever you did... to the demon.”

“Okay.  What do I do?”

Maeve guided Eric to lay down on her bed.  “Lay down, and listen to my
voice - focus on it.  This is a form of meditation.  As you get more
skilled, you will be able to dispense with the quiet room, the dark, the
concentration, and monitor yourself in more stressful and active conditions,
but for now, just relax.”

“Imagine your mind as an empty room.  The room is dark, but comfortable -
you’ve been in it many times.  Slowly imagine yourself filling the room
with things - a bed, a chair, a lamp.  It’s your comfort
place.   Somewhere in this room is a container where you keep your
treasures - your precious things.  Find that container, and just look at
it for a while - learn its contours, its shape and heft - even its smell, if it
has one.  These are your wants - and they are very important.”
Maeve’s voice was almost hypnotic, and Eric found it easy to imagine what Maeve
was suggesting.

“I see it.”  Eric said; she could - it was her room back home in Toronto,
before her... his mother died.  It was a place he used to feel safe.
He hadn’t seen it in a very long time.   There was a box - an old
cardboard box his mother Laura had given him.  He kept his treasures in it
- at the time the treasures were childish things, like bits of colored string,
small comic strips from the newspaper, notes from friends or small toys - small
things, but they were his.   He remembered the box too - it was a
thick cardboard box with a paper hinge, covered with paintings of Calvin and
Hobbes, topped with superhero stickers and drawings in pen - something you’d
buy for a child at a stationary store, to store pencils or other things
inside.

Maeve saw that Eric had relaxed and found her special place, and continued
speaking.  “The magic of a sorcerer comes from Hrask, the Father of all
Dragons - and it is the nature of Dragons to covet.  They lust for power,
for wealth, for food - but most of all, for MORE.  More of anything, and
everything.  They are selfish, prideful, greedy and arrogant.  The
test we’re doing is to see if those feelings - of pride, greed, arrogance -
have begun to overtake you.”  Maeve paused, to see how Eric was
doing.  She looks okay.  Time to see if she actually is okay.
“Now imagine I’m in your safe room, just visiting.  Can you imagine
that?”

“Yeah.  It’s a bit weird, but I think I can see it.”

“I come over to see what’s in your special box.  What are you feeling?”

Eric tried to imagine what she was feeling.  “I... I don’t want to show
you.  Its private.”   Eric felt upset - and vulnerable.
She didn’t want Maeve to see them - they were hers.

“Why not Eric?”  Maeve said, extending her senses to Erics with the Sight,
letting her arcane power help monitor and assess Eric’s state.  “You’re
only going to show them to me, right - not give them to me.  Are you
afraid I’ll take them?”

“I... don’t want to show you.  I... I kinda am.  Afraid you’ll take
them.”  Eric was kinda scared now too.  Why am I feeling this
way?  Maeve is my friend - and she wouldn’t steal from me...
But then a small voice inside him said  *Why not?  She took your
gun...*  It didn’t exactly SAY it - not like the demons said things...
it kind of bubbled up from inside her.  *Maybe she wants them for
herself.  She wants them for herself Eric.  She’s a thief.*
“I’m... I’m scared Maeve.  I feel like you’re going to take my stuff, and
I’m kinda mad and angry and... I want to hit you before you can.”

Maeve nodded.  She could see the Call roiling in Eric’s mind.  “When
you did that magic, to the demon, you over-extended yourself - not too much,
but enough.  You have a high threshold - higher than most apprentices have
before they complete their training - but you caused yourself some
damage.”  Maeve ended her Sight, and spoke a word, ending the trance state
on Eric, who rubbed her eyes and sat up.

“Will I be okay?”

She looks pretty worried.  Good.  “Yes, you will - but you
came close.  What you’re experiencing is a very light touch of the Call of
Hrask.  It will probably leave you feeling off-kilter for about a week or
so, then pass - as long as you don’t do... whatever you did... again, at least
until you have a great deal more training.   Part of your training
will be learning to do this meditation every day until it becomes second
nature.  If you don’t learn how to control this, the Call of Hrask will
eventually control you, and you will cease to be Eric - and become one of the
Fallen.”

“Is there anything I can do to make it go away sooner?  I was kind of
getting used to not hearing voices in my head.”

“Not really, Eric.   In fact, we should probably not start any
magical tutoring - beyond the meditation we just did - until I get back from
Arathel, after I report to the council.   You and Christine will be
safe with Kai until then.”

“We’re not going with you?”  Eric asked.

“Not this time.  Arathel is a big city - well, big for our world - maybe
not compared to your Toronto.  It would be too difficult to keep an eye on
you both in such a big city - and there’s too much trouble you could get
into.  Kai has a hunting cabin near the town of Wethom.  I was
thinking of sending you and Christine there to rest and learn our customs and
language from Kai until I got back.”

Maeve paused.  “You know, Eric - you weren’t the only one who saw
something, when we had that vision.  I saw you as a child, in front of a
mirror.”

Eric blushed - and looked about to say something, but Maeve interrupted.
“I won’t say any more, Eric.  I just want to know if you’re happy
now.  If you’re going to be okay?”

She knows.  He thought.  She knows, and she doesn’t care.
“Yeah.  Yeah, I think I am - and I think I will be.”  Eric
said.  “Thanks Maeve.”

Maeve nodded.  “Now, I think it’s time to head downstairs for dinner - and
a drink.”  Plus, there’s something not right about this whole thing,
Maeve thought.  And I’d like to keep you and Christine away from
Arathel until I figure out what exactly that is...

Eric rose to go with Maeve, and she locked the door behind them before giving
Eric the key, then headed downstairs.  Eric followed, her stomach
rumbling.

*
*          *

In the taproom, Christine had eaten about half her dinner, and was surprised at
the quantity of food.  She and Kai had been given trenchers - wooden
plates - of a kind of stew, with peas, carrots and some other vegetables she
couldn’t quite identify, along with a wedge of a white hard cheese and two
pieces of almost-stale bread, which Kai had told her was to soak up the juices
from the stew.   The beer was a smoky brew with a hint of malt flavor
- odd to her taste, considering she was used to Molson Golden and Labatt’s
Blue, from her college days.  Odd, but not bad. She
thought.   Kai had even gone over to the bar and brought back some
salted ballnuts for her and Eric to try.  They tasted surprisingly good -
kind of like salted cashews and peanuts mixed together.   And yet
another obscene pile of money if we can take these ballnuts back with us.
Kai says they grow everywhere here - they’re virtually free.

Eric and Maeve came down from upstairs - finally - and came to their table to
eat.  Christine noticed more than a few heads turned to watch the two
women - and most of the heads seemed to be looking at Eric, not Maeve.  Uh-oh.
She thought.  Am I really going to have to have ‘The Talk’ with my best
friends BROTHER?   Oh my God.

Maeve slid into the booth, and took a long drink of the malt beer.  Eric
slid in beside her and said  “Hey.  How’s dinner?”

“Getting cold.”  Kai said.  “Why don’t you grab some while its hot.”

“Kay.”  Eric quipped, and started shovelling the stew or pottage, or
whatever it was in.  There were spoons, but no forks.  When she
looked to see how most other people were eating it, she noticed they seemed to
be eating it with the bread, or using it to wipe the bowl
afterwards.   That makes sense I guess.  She
thought.

The four ate in quiet, too tired and hungry to talk a great deal until the worst
of their hunger was satiated.   Maeve picked up the
conversation.  “I was thinking we leave tomorrow morning, using our
borrowed horses if Sir Andred doesn’t confiscate them by then, and heading to
Wethom.   I figure you can all lay low at Kai’s cabin until I get
back from Arathel.  Does that sound okay, Kai?”

Kai nodded.  “Sure.  I’ll need to set my traplines, and probably fix
a few shingles, get some wood cut.  Some company would be nice for a
bit.   And I’ve got the room - my cabin can hold four or five people
if needed.”  Kai boasted.  “I figured I might need the space someday.
Guess I was right.”

Eric and Christine listened, carefully.  Christine looked like she was
going to pipe in, but Eric motioned for her to wait.

“Good.  While you’re getting squared away, start trying to teach Eric and
Christine how to speak our language without the translation amulets - I still
have to give those back to Anvi in a few months.”  When Kai nodded she
continued.   “I’ll head to Arathel and report to the Council.
I’ll make sure on picking up both our pays, and then assuming nothing goes
south, I’ll head back and we’ll start Eric’s magic lessons.”

Christine couldn’t keep her curiosity contained any longer.  “How long do
you think it will take - I mean, to go to Arathel, come back, and teach Eric
what to do to get us home?”   Christine noticed Eric looked curious
about it too.

Maeve looked at Christine, and told her plainly.  “You’d better get used
to the idea that you’ll be here a while, Christine.  I’m going to be at
least two weeks - maybe three - going to Arathel and back, and after that it
will be at least - at least - three to six months before Eric is trained enough
to do basic magic safely.  And travelling through the Void is anything but
simple or basic.  It could be as much as years, Christine.  Months at
the very least - definitely not weeks or days.   It’s just the way it
is.”

Eric wasn’t too perturbed by the timeframe Maeve gave...  After all, when
he used to live on the street, time didn’t mean too much anyway.   And
since I’m not even a person now, back home at least, who the hell cares when,
or even if I come back?   The only person other than Christine, would
be Angie.   Eric felt a bit ill when he thought of how much his
sister would worry about him - considering the circumstances in which he left
Earth.   I wonder if there will be a manhunt?   I wonder
if someone put videos of the demon on You-Tube?  That would be just fucking
wonderful, he thought sarcastically.  Bad enough it happened, but
to have people rate what happened at the clinic with likes and dislikes would
be just too damn wrong, in every way.

Christine was considerably more bothered.  My house... My job!
Shit!  If I get back I might be homeless and jobless - hell, Eric and I
might be considered as dead.  Wouldn’t that be fucking wonderful, having
to prove I’m alive after all.   I can just see the police now: Oh,
welcome back Miss Vallan.  Would you mind telling us where you’ve been for
the last five months since a sword-wielding maniac and your best friends
brother killed some people and stole a police car, and drove it to your
house?  Oh yeah, that would go well.   “I’m screwed.”
She said.  “Totally, utterly screwed.”

“I’m sorry, Christine.”  Eric said.

“I know, Eric.  I understand, but it doesn’t stop me from being
completely, totally screwed.  At best I lose my job - which means unless I
find work fast, I lose my house too.   Worst case, if we get back we
get locked up as criminals or terrorists.  Best case is I lose everything
and start over.”

Eric looked ashamed, and just hung her head, saying nothing.

“At least you’re alive.”  Said Kai.  “And you’ve seen things no one
else other than Eric has seen on your entire world.   That should
count for something.”

“It does.”  Said Christine.  “It does. It’s just hard coming to grips
with the concept that I’m going to lose almost everything I used to think was
important.   I know it’s important I’m alive - and hey, we were
trying to save the world, in our own way, right?   I just wish it
didn’t have to ruin my life back home while doing it, is all.”

“I’ll try to get us back as soon as I can, Christine.”  Eric said.
“I promise.”

“I know.”

Kai tried to stifle a yawn at that point, and couldn’t.  And like yawns
everywhere, it was viral and contagious - soon everyone at the table was yawning.
“Perhaps we should get some sleep.  It’s a three-day ride to Wethom - or
almost five days if we have to walk.”

“I think Eric has had enough beer for one night as well.”  Maeve
remarked.  “You did well finishing your flagon, but you don’t have the
tolerance to drink so much so quickly, at least yet.”

“Hey!” said Eric.  “That flagon was a pint, not one of the bottles back
home.  I’ve never even had a beer before tonight.”

Christine goggled.  “Oh my god!  You haven’t?”

“Nope.  When I was on the street the voices told me it was poison, and
before I was on the street, I was below legal age.  I had some wine once
or twice at the holidays, and that’s it.”

Maeve laughed.  “So our Eric is a lightweight?   Maybe we better
help her upstairs Kai.”

“I can stand.”  Eric said indignantly - and promptly staggered out of the
booth, unsteady on her feet.  Whoa!  She thought.   Is
this what tipsy feels like?

“I can see that.”  Said Kai.  “Can you stand with a little less
wobbling?”

“I... I’m not sure.”  Eric blushed, looking more than a little embarrassed
and vulnerable.

Christine came to her rescue.  “I’ll help her upstairs.  C’mon Eric,
before I fall down too.” With that, Eric and Christine headed upstairs to their
room.

Kai and Maeve looked at each other, wordlessly sharing the same worries.
Kai put them to voice first.  “Christine is going to be a problem isn’t
she.  She might not be able to adjust to living here - and you’re worried
she’ll rush Eric into trying to take her home?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“I’ll work on her while you’re gone.  See if I can get her feeling more at
home.  It would be best for everyone, especially her.   I mean,
from what you’ve told me before, there’s a really good chance Eric will never
be able to get them both home - that they’ll either get lost in the Void, or
his powers won’t be sufficient to get them there safely.  Am I right?”

“Unfortunately, yes.  I have a sinking feeling about how she’s going to
react in a few months when Eric doesn’t miraculously whisk her home.  And
you can be sure I’m going to ram how fucking dangerous travelling the Void can
be, if he doesn’t remember from actually being there.  The only reason I
think he can even get them back home is that he was able to go to the Void and
back once before - without any  training at all - and was able to bring
both Christine and myself with him when we came back to Mercia.”

“Hrmmm.”  Kai didn’t know what to say.  At least there’s a
chance, right?  He thought.  Better than nothing.

“You know, I am surprised about one thing.”  Maeve said smirking slyly and
giving Kai a wink, wink.  “I though Eric was going to ask you for some
help getting upstairs for a moment...”

Kai raised an eyebrow, and gave Maeve ‘the look’.  “Don’t jest about such
thing, Maeve.  Eric has been through too much.”

“Who was jesting?  I think she likes you.”  Maeve said, taking a last
swig of her beer.

She left Kai sitting thoughtfully at the table.

*
*          *

Eric and Christine staggered up the stairs towards their room with some
difficulty.  Eric was having trouble keeping her feet due to the beer, and
Christine was having trouble due to having to nearly carry Eric.  The two
stumbled into their hotel room, and closed the door behind them.  Eric sat
on her bed, while Christine sat on hers, and pulled off her boots.

“My poor feet!”  Christine complained.  “They feel raw.”

Eric winced - she could see at least two blisters, and possibly a few more
thinking about starting.  Since awakening in the Dreamer’s body she hadn’t
had to walk much - her feet felt fine - but she was shivering more than a
little from the chill.   “I’m sorry about your feet,
Christine.   I’m... I’m sorry about bringing you here.   I
should have thought first.   I... sorry.”   It was when
tears started running down her cheeks she realized she was crying.  I’ve
ruined her life.  Eric thought.  It’s all my fault.  I
didn’t mean to hurt her.

Christine heard the concern and regret in Eric’s voice, and saw she was
crying.  Dammit, I want to be mad - I AM mad - but where the hell could
he have gone?   The Cops?   She sighed.  “Eric, I
realize you had to go somewhere - you were frightened and in an impossible
situation.   I’m mad my life has been turned upside down - and I’m
mad everything I’ve worked for is going to be pissed down the toilet...
I’m mad I might never see a frigging flush-toilet again!  But I’m also
kinda honored that when you were in that much trouble, you thought I could help
you.   I’m glad I’m alive - even if we are in a fucked up medieval
fantasy-land with swords and magic and monsters and stuff.  I’m glad
you’re still alive, even if you’re a girl now, cause frankly with all the
people that have been trying to kill us, we should be dead.  Like maybe
five or six times dead.”

Christine paused.  “I am angry, Eric.  It’ll pass, I guess - in
time.  I’m just kinda pissed right now.   I’m not one of those
people who ever wanted to live in the past, like the ren-faire or SCA
guys.  I like my HBO and internet and Rock music.  I like modern
stuff like hygiene and refrigeration, cars and airplanes.  I... I just
never expected to be in a situation like this, and I’m having a hard time
dealing with it.  How about you?  How are you dealing with... with
you?”

Eric wiped away a few tears.  She’s trying to change the subject,
she thought.   “I guess I’m okay.  I’m alive.   I miss
my leather jacket - and I feel so small and weak its not funny.  I feel
like I could blow away in a strong wind.   I... I don’t know how I’m
dealing.  I guess okay.  I guess this is going to take a lot of
getting used to, huh.”

“What?  Being a girl?  You have no idea.  You could stick around
and do that ritual thingy that Maeve was telling us about and go back to being
a guy.”

“Maybe - but would I have to convert to her religion first?   At
least if I can get us home, you’ll still be a legal person.  No matter if
I’m a girl or a guy, no one will believe I am who I say I am - except maybe
Angie.  I’ll be an illegal alien with no ID.”

“Oh crap.”  Here I’ve been going on about poor me, poor me.
Eric’s lost his whole identity.  That’s pretty screwed up.  “I
guess I have been pretty heavy on the pity party.  Sorry.”

“It’s okay.  I screwed up by getting you involved in all this.
I just wanted to let you know you’re not the only one who’s life is screwed up,
big time.”

“Fair enough.  We should get to bed.”   Christine
stretched.  “As mad as I am, I’m more tired than anything else right
now.  And I’m NOT looking forward to three more days on those horses - but
it’ll still be better than five days on these feet.  “Remind me to ask
Maeve for more healing balm in the morning.”

“Deal!”  Eric smiled.

The two of them got ready for bed, stripping out of wet clothes and into nightgowns
found for them by Maria and Maeve.  Christine’s was a light green wool,
and Eric’s was a dark blue cotton with white trim.  They snuffed out the
light, and settled down to bed.

“I suppose I should think about a new name, for the time being, huh?  It
might seem less weird.”  Eric said, as they tried to head off to
sleep.  “What do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever makes you feel better, Eric.  If you think
a new name is better, fair enough.   It might take time for me to remember
it - but if you want to go with a new name, I’ll try.   At least
until you figure out what you’re doing.”

“Kay.”  Eric answered.  “Thanks.”

“No problem-o.”   Christine said it like the scene in Terminator
2...  It got a chuckle from Eric.  Meanwhile, Christine was
thinking.   A new name?  That doesn’t sound like someone who
wants to turn back - it sounds like someone planning on staying that way.
Maybe I’m over-thinking it?   Before she could mull it over any
further, Christine drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 17 - Wethom

Christine and Eric were awoken the next morning by an insistent knock on their
door.  As they groaned, and consciousness began to impinge itself upon
them, they could start to hear Kai on the other side of the door.
“Wake up!  It’s time we were off.”

Eric clutched her head and moaned.  “We’re up... we’re up.
Oww.”   The room was still dim - the first touch of dawn was on the
horizon.  “It’s still early.”

“Holy crap.”  Said Christine, climbing out of bed.  “You are a
lightweight.   We hear you Kai.”

“Good.”  Kai answered.  “If you want breakfast before we leave, I
suggest you be downstairs in the next twenty minutes, because we’re going to be
on the road in thirty.  It may be early, but we have a long ways to go.”

“We’d better get down there if we want food.”  Christine said.
“Maeve sounds draconian enough that she’d leave without us if we weren’t
finished.  Besides, you need some food in you.”

“Urg...  I’m not sure I can eat.”  Eric felt nauseous.  My
tongue feels hairy and my head is killing me!  If this is an hangover, on
one stupid beer... gah.  Maybe my body just Isn’t used to normal food yet?

The two cleaned up with the pitcher of water and washbasin under the
nightstand.  The cold water shocked them both awake, making them a bit
more alert.   Christine finished getting dressed, and grabbed her
stuff, packing her backpack.  Eric did the same.  Even though
Christine had chided Eric about getting some food into her, she wasn’t really
sure about eating much herself.  The swaying motion of the horse hadn’t
been very relaxing the last few days, and the food from last night wasn’t
really agreeing with her stomach the best.

“We should try.  Maybe something simple, like a piece of toast?”

Eric nodded.  “I think I could manage something like that.”

Noticeably possessed of more balance than the previous night, Eric shouldered
her pack and held the door for Christine.  Christine headed out and down,
followed by Eric.  Within a few moments they were in the common room of
the Inn, and saw Maeve and Kai at a table, drinking a steaming liquid, and
eating porridge and sausages, along with wedges of bread.

“They Live!”   Maeve joked.  “Come on, you two.  Breakfast
awaits.”

“You seem in good spirits this morning.”  Eric commented.

“Well, I didn’t wake up in a dungeon, and no one is trying to kill me.”

“Yet.”  Kai joked, dodging the inevitable blow he figured Maeve would send
his way.

Maeve just smirked thoughtfully.  “Well, the day IS young.”

Christine sat down and spooned a bowl of porridge.  It was gloppy white
paste - the old fashioned ‘stick to your ribs’ kind - it looked flavourless and
bland.   It didn’t taste much better, until Kai took a knife and
sliced up some sausage pieces into it.   Eric looked like she was
having as much trouble as Christine was at eating it.

“What are you drinking?”  Christine asked.

“Tea.”  Maeve said.  “Keeps us warm - and after last night we thought
you and Eric might not want beer.”

“Tea sounds good.”  Christine poured herself some, and some for Eric.

“So what’s the plan?”  Eric asked.

Maeve took a second to think, and replied  “The plan is we take the horses
and ride to Wethom - a large town about three days downriver from here - that’s
south, in case you weren’t sure.   During some of the trip we’ll be
teaching the two of you how to speak our language without the aid of those
amulets, and for some of the trip we’ll be teaching you both some of the basics
of how not to get lost and die in the woods - you know, how to avoid basic
hazards and such.  We’ll probably ride till nightfall, make camp, then do
it all again the next day.”

“Umm, Maeve?  Christine could use some more of that healing balm, if you
have any.  Her feet were pretty bad last night.”   Eric
mentioned, then turned to Christine.  “I thought you forgot to ask.”

“I did - thanks.  Do we have anymore?  It really helped.”

Maeve grimaced a bit.  “We do, but we’ll have to be a bit more sparing
with it.  We don’t have a lot of it, and its not cheap.   When I
get paid, we can use more - but until we get to Wethom, we’ll need to be a
little more frugal with it.”

“Drats.  My feet are killing me.”  Christine rubbed a boot with one
hand.

“If you need it when we stop for lunch, I’ll get you some then.”  Maeve said.
“At least you’ll be riding and not walking, right?”

Yeah, Christine joked to herself.  But then I’ll have to use the
balm on my ass.

“I noticed you cleaned and curried your horse the day you rescued Maeve
and I, Eric.”  Kai mentioned.  “Have you been around horses a
lot?  From what Maeve has hinted to me, people on your world use those
strange cars I think you called them, instead of horses.”

“Yeah - most people do.  I spent four summers on a horse farm,
learning to break foals, care for horses, and learning to ride.  Most of
the time I was with my mom, or my sister Angie.  Dad was always busy at
work.  It was a good time - but I haven’t been near a horse in geez... six
years maybe.  I’m glad to see I remembered it.”

“Hmm.   It’s a good thing to know.   Can you hunt?”

“Uh... no.  I’ve never fired a rifle or used a bow.”  Eric said.

“Me neither.”  Said Christine.

“Looks like I’ll have my work cut out for me, then.”  Kai laughed.

By now all four had finished what they could eat of the porridge, bread and
sausage, and finished what there was of the hot tea.   Maeve got up
and jingled a small purse.  “I’ll go settle the bill.  Why don’t you
all go get saddled up and ready to go?”

Kai nodded, and grabbed his pack, quiver and his hunting bow.  “Come
on.”  He said to Eric and Christine.  “The sooner we’re on the road,
the sooner we get back home.”

Eric forced one last spoon of porridge in her mouth, then grabbed her pack and
rushed to catch up to Christine and Kai, already halfway to the front door.

The stables were small, but fairly well kept.  Only 4 animals were in the
Inn’s stable - Maeve and Kai’s purloined steeds, that once belonged to Sir
Tarren and Sir Carmichael, and two others - a strong mountain pony covered with
heavy, shaggy fur - and a strange creature neither Eric or Christine had ever
seen before.  It looked like a nine foot long, five foot high ferret with
grey fur - and six legs.   It seemed friendly - but in its stall was
a chicken carcass, picked clean - so it was obvious it ate meat.
Eric pointed at it and she and Christine stared for a moment.

Kai noticed the two looking at the creature, and said “I take it you don’t have
slinks in your world?”  When the two gave him dumbfounded looks, he
laughed.  “Slinks are large ferret like creatures we’ve trained to use as
mounts.  They’re very friendly, very mischievous, and very fast - but they
don’t have the durability or endurance of a horse.  Messengers and scouts
use them primarily, but some people prefer them to horses.  They say they
have a smoother ride.   I like them, myself, because if you’re short
on fodder, they can be trained to hunt for themselves when you make camp.
And they’re warm if it gets cold.”

“Wow.”  Eric  “What a strange animal.  Do they live in the wild
too?”

“Yes.”  Kai answered.  “Sometimes wild ones are pests, plaguing
farmers and their herds.  Usually trained hounds can keep the wild ones at
bay.  Feral ones have been known to attack people too, but its not that
common.  Now help me get the horses ready, Eric.”

Christine stood by while Eric and Kai combed, brushed and saddled the horses -
she watched them do it, trying to see what they did so that when her turn came,
she wouldn’t be totally clueless.  To be honest, she was a little scared
of the horses - they were really big animals.  Bigger than she expected in
real life.

By the time the saddles were on and cinched, Maeve had appeared.
Without much more ado, everyone took their places, and they rode out of the
stables into Ogden town.   Ogden was still waking up slowly, as many
towns do.  Delivery persons were making their rounds, while shops were
slowly opening one by one as people got ready for their work day.  The sky
was clear, the air cool, but with that touch of warmth and hope that says
‘spring is on the way’, rather than the deadly winter cold.   Their breath
puffed in the air, but the icicles on the eaves were starting to drip as they
began to slowly melt.

As they approached the city gates, Eric and Christine couldn’t help but notice
that there seemed to be a party of people waiting for them.  Sir Andred
was among them, as well as a woman in her early twenties, dressed in a red robe
with white trim, and some elaborate silver bracelets.   The rest were
made up of 4 men at arms.  Maeve saw them too, and sighed.

“Let me do the talking, okay?”

Christine whispered “Are we in trouble?”

“No.”  Maeve said.  “At least, I don’t think so.”   She
straightened in the saddle, and called out to Sir Andred, somewhat
jovially.  “Sir Andred!  I trust we aren’t going to have any trouble
this morning?”

Sir Andred shook his head.  “No - I’m here on a more important matter than
the borrowing of two steeds that don’t belong to you.  You have in your
party the only Dreamer to awaken.  Ever.  When I told Sister Celia,
she thought she would like to at least get the young ladies name, for history
if nothing else.”

Sister Celia looked rather eager to speak.  “Indeed I would - this is
rather momentous, wouldn’t you agree, Serra Varda?   I understand you
need to travel quickly, on church business, but I have only a few
questions.  Could I trouble your charge to answer a few questions, Serra?”

This might not be a good idea.  Maeve thought.   But
being rude might raise more questions, and slow us down in the long run.
“Ask away - but I might have to interrupt if it touches on something
sensitive.”

Sister Cecilia looked pleased, and turned to Eric.  “Welcome to Ogden,
Serra.  I am Sister Cecilia of the Church of the Ladies of Mercy.  I
was wondering if you would mind answering a few questions, for our history
records?”

“Sure, I guess.”  Eric said.

“What is your name?  We haven’t been able to find any records of your past
or your family.  Either they were lost, since you fell ill with the
sleeping sickness, or...”  She glared at Sir Andred   “... your
records were destroyed when someone burnt the House of Broken Dreams to the
ground.”

Oh Crap.   I guess I’ll just go with it.  Thought
Eric.   “Erica.  My name is Erica van Helstrome.”

“Do you remember where you grew up?”   Sister Cecilia asked.

“Um... no.  Everything’s still a bit foggy.”

“Sir Andred says you had a vision from the Goddess.  Could you tell me a
little about that?”  Sister Cecilia looked very interested in what Erica
might say next.

Maeve cleared her throat.  “That’s getting a little too near the sensitive
parts, Sister Cecilia.”

“I think I can say a little.”  Erica said.   “It was all black
and dark - like I was sleeping, and I met a young woman wearing green, with a
bow and a ring of glass keys.  We talked a little while, and she asked if
I wanted to live.  I said yes.  She seemed very kind.
Just before I woke she asked me to give a message - a private message - to
Maeve, when I woke up.  Please don’t ask me about it - I won’t repeat it.”

Maeve, who had been more than a little tense at the way the line of questioning
had gone relaxed a bit.  Her answer could have been a hell of a lot
worse.  Maeve thought.  Still, if everything is still foggy
she could have claimed to not remember her name.  Girl still has to learn
about security and a still tongue.

“Really?  Did she say anything else?”

“Umm.  No.  Should she have?”  Erica looked a bit confused.

Sister Cecilia watched Erica for a moment, then shook her head.
“No.  I was just making sure there was nothing left out.  It’s not
every day a person receives a divine visitation.  It’s a very important
facet of the faith to document such events, so that their implications can be
studied and examined.  Its doubly significant because you are the first
Dreamer to ever awaken.   May I ask you a request?”

Maeve looked impatient.  Erica said “If I can, I guess so.”

“If you remember anything more, could you please write it down, so that it is
not forgotten?  It could be important to the Faith one day.”  She
held out a pouch that looked to contain some parchments, a vial of ink, and
some quill pens.

“I think I can do that, Sister.”  Erica said.  “Thank you.”

“No, thank you my child.  May the Ladies of Mercy bless you
all, and the Skyfather watch over you as you travel.”  Sister Cecilia
finished the prayer with a bow and some ritual movements - to Eric it looked
like something a priest might do back home, so she figured it was a prayer.

Sir Andred had sat there, watching the scene unfold, his eyes glued to
Erica.   Kai didn’t know what to make of him.  He didn’t seem
attracted to Erica, nor hostile.  It was something else.   I
hope it doesn’t mean anything other than fascination with a Dreamer that woke
up.  It still boggles my mind, come to think of it - except it really
Isn’t a Dreamer waking - it just LOOKS that way.

“Well, if that’s all, we need to head south and quickly.  By your
leave.”  Maeve kicked her heels in a bit, and her horse carried her and
Christine off towards the road.   The men at arms moved respectfully
out of her way, and Kai quickly followed.  The road, such as it was, was
more a dirt track with deep wagon ruts marking the path.  The ground was
still frozen, and only slightly mucky at its worst, so their speed was fairly
good.  It wasn’t until they were a few miles down the road, and well out
of sight of Ogden town that anyone spoke.

“Erica?”  Maeve said, turning the statement into a question.

“I think it sounds nice.”  Said Kai.  “And it has the added benefit
of being easy to remember.”

“You sure about this, kiddo?”  Asked Christine.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”  Erica said.   “And it
IS the feminine version of my name.  It seemed appropriate given my
circumstances, and like Kai said, it’s not like I’ll forget it in the middle of
a crisis.”

“Fair enough.”  Maeve said.   “Erica it is.”

After that, the talk turned to languages - and Erica and Christine spent a good
chunk of the day with their translation amulets in their pockets, trying to
fathom the words and phrases Kai and Maeve were using.  Erica was pretty
good at it - she seemed to have a knack for it that Christine couldn’t match,
which was more than a little frustrating for the social worker.

I swear, Erica has a streak of luck a mile wide.  Christine
thought.  First she has magic - then she survives death - and now she’s
learning this damn language like lightning.  What do I get?
Blisters.   Oh well.  At least I don’t have the local priestess
doting on my every word.

The next two and a half days passed with little to note.  They travelled
from about an hour past dawn till dusk, and made camp.  The road from
Ogden town to Wethom travelled along the side of a fairly large river Kai
called the ‘Vestal’.  Making camp usually involved gathering wood for a
fire, and spending an hour or so foraging for edible plants for themselves or
the horses while Kai hunted.  Sleep was difficult for Christine, who
wasn’t used to roughing it - but none of the others had any
problems.   After the first day, Christine’s feet ceased to bother
her, once Maeve applied more balm, which brightened Christine’s mood
considerably.

About mid-afternoon on the third day, a small walled city came into view
through the trees, at the confluence of three rivers.   The city
itself was in-between the forks of the Y-shape the rivers made, which Eric
supposed was both convenient for travel and trade, and for defence.  For
the last half hour they had been riding through what appeared to be apple
orchards - and there had been several cottages and cabins near the road as
well.  Some of the people they had seen had waved to Kai.

“Ah, its good to be home.”  Said Kai.  “That’s Wethom - home to some
fourteen hundred people - more come summertime.  Ruled by the good Lord
and Lady Kale, and home of some of the finest taverns and inns in the
region.   Oh - and there are some excellent shops and stores to spend
money in, once you have some to spend.”

“Do you live in the city?”  Erica asked.

“No - I have a cabin a few miles into the woods, west of town.  When I’m
not risking my life with Maeve, I hunt and trap game and sell their furs to
make a living.”   He looked genuinely pleased to be back.
“It’ll be great - you’ll see.”

“We should stop in town and pick up a few supplies for you three, especially if
you’re going to be at the cabin for most of the time, while I’m heading to
Arathel.”  Maeve said.   “Food and some spare clothes for
Christine and Erica, if nothing else.”

“Good idea.”  Kai said.  “But let’s not take too long.  If we’re
quick, we can get to the cabin before dark.  Do you have money for the
gate tax, Maeve?”

“Aye.  Two horses, a bow and my sword.  It won’t be a problem.”

“What about Erica’s pistol?”  Kai asked.

“Oh.  Right.”  Maeve said.  “I suppose we had best declare that
too.”

Christine was a little confused.  “Do they have guns here?  I haven’t
seen any?  You and Kai didn’t seem too surprised by it.”

Maeve nodded.  “We have guns.  They are rare and expensive - toys for
the rich, mostly.  Most are dart-shooting weapons using very strong
springs, that use magazines like Erica’s does, but the Madragans have a
fondness for firearms that use a blasting powder to fire a bullet, like Erica’s
pistol does.  Their pistols make a lot of smoke, though and can only fire
one shot before they need to be loaded - and they load them through the barrel,
not in the magazine through the handle.”

“And Lady Kale and her husband Lord Kale have a fondness for collecting odd and
rare firearms.”  Kai said.  “I’d bet you’d fetch a pretty penny if
you sold her that pistol of yours, if you were willing to part with it.”

“Well, she wouldn’t be able to get more bullets for it.”  Erica said.

“Maybe, but she would own the only powder using pistol that can fire multiple times.
She’d still pay through the nose for it.  Just promise me one thing.”
Kai said.

“What?”

“If you do sell it to her, bring Maeve or I along to make sure you get a fair
price.  You know so little about local costs she could offer you magic
beans and claim it was a fair trade.”  Kai said.

“Hey - it might be, depending on what the magic beans do!”  joked Maeve.

“Believe it or not, but we’ve had some cautionary tales about accepting magic beans
as payment on our world.”  Christine said.   “Why does the
number of weapons matter?”

“It’s the Gate tax, Christine.”  Maeve replied.  “The Lord and Lady
levy the tax to pay for repairs to the sewers, to pay the troops, and repair
the streets and towns walls.  It’s a common practice.  Ogden didn’t
bother because it didn’t have sewers, large numbers of troops, nor roads worth
mentioning.”

The band headed down the river to a stone bridge crossing the Vestal
river.  The bridge was made of ornate carved stone, and arched so that its
lowest point was about twenty five feet above the surface of the water, and its
highest was forty feet above the water.     Small docks and
piers were below the bridge, still limned with early spring
ice.    South of the city looked to be an open area, covered in
melting snow, about two miles square.   Wethom’s walls looked to be
made of stone as well, and were fairly tall and thick. The city was well
defended for a town of its type and size.

The gate guards didn’t give them any trouble, and gave Kai a warm welcome - and
Maeve a somewhat less warm welcome.  As they entered the town, one of the
first things Eric noticed was that it seemed much cleaner and less smelly than
Ogden.  Probably due to the sewers Kai mentioned.  They’d be pretty
well flushed out too, with all these rivers meeting here, I’ll bet.

As they travelled through the town, Christine once again saw the miniature
apartments in what would have been the eaves of houses in our world.  Some
had porches, with tiny pieces of furniture, while others seemed to have glass
windows, and other things like tiny door knockers and so on.   “Kai,
I’ve seen a number of these tiny houses on top of your buildings here.
What are they?  Are they ornamental?”

Kai looked confused for a moment...  “Oh!  You mean the
Caric’chiits?”  The word he said sounded odd - like it wasn’t the language
that Kai and Maeve usually spoke - Valdan.  It sounded like something else.
“They’re Reechi houses.   Houses for Reechi, I mean.”

Erica laughed.  “We’re strangers here, remember?  What’s a Reechi?”

“They’re tiny people that look like large squirrels, save that they walk, and
talk, wear clothes and use tools like you and I - they’re just smaller.
Legend says they used to be normal squirrels, till the Goddess Adinor blessed
them with intelligence for doing a great service to her.   It’s said
to be lucky to have them live above your residence.”

Maeve nodded.  “They’re good folks, mostly - but a bit hyperactive
compared to most.  Their language is tricky to learn - lots of clicks and
such, since it sort of sounds like squirrels talking - but many of them speak
Valdan too.  They live about half as long as a human does - maybe a bit
more.  Don’t let their size fool you.  Many are dead shots with a
bow, and some can even fight with swords and knives - of a size for their
build, mind you.”

“I’d love to see one.”  Christine said.   This place is more
like Narnia or Watership down the longer I’m here.  If Watership down had
flesh-eating demons and evil wizards.  Narnia *might* have those - I can’t
remember.

“They’re people, Christine - not pets.   I’m sure you’ll see one soon
enough.   Just keep your eyes aimed up a bit.   You see
those ropes bridges strung between the roofs?”  Kai asked.  “Those
ropes are their highway - like a walkway or sidewalk in the air.  Many of
the Reechi use those to travel to their homes and businesses above our homes
and businesses.”

“Cool!”  Erica said.  This is awesome.  She
thought.  This place might be scary - but its also got some really neat
things going for it.  Christine was right, it kinda is a magical fantasy
land.  I wish I had a camera!

“Does that mean something like ‘organic’ back home, Erica?  Because I
don’t think you were commenting on the weather.”  Maeve looked a bit
curious.

“Umm, yeah.  It means that’s really neat and interesting, or wow, that’s
impressive.  It can also mean its cool or cold, but a lot of people use it
the first two ways too.”

“Okay - just so I know what you’re saying.”

The first stop was a general store.  They all dismounted to stretch, and
Kai went inside to buy supplies, since he knew what they needed.  Maeve
called out  “I’m going to get these two some clothes - be back in about an
hour, okay?”

“Sure!”  He called back.  “If I’m not here, I’ll be at the Mushroom!”

As Maeve led Christine and Eric across the street towards what looked to be a
clothing shop, Eric asked the obvious.  “What the heck is the Mushroom?”

“Local slang for a restaurant called the Musky Mushroom.  It’s a great
place to get excellently cooked meat, and they have a pretty mean mushroom lager.
The owner said it’s a family recipe brewed from a secret formula given to them
by an elf prince three generations ago.  It’s also a great place to pick
up the local news.”

Oh great!  Christine thought.  Talking animals and now
Elrond and Galadrial.   What next?  The One Ring and
Excalibur?   I suppose I could survive if ‘sexy Legolas’ came to
visit... yum.  “Are the Elves friendly, like the Reechi?”

“No.”  Maeve’s flat dark tone and one word answer spoke volumes.

So no sexy Legolas then.  Well crap.   Christine
thought.   Oh well.

Maeve gestured them into the store, and inside they found what seemed to be a
mixture of a seamstresses shop, and a clothing shop.   One half of
the store looked like fitting rooms and measuring tables, and the other half
had some tables of folded garments.   Two local women were looking at
various garments, while a seamstress was making alterations on one of the
measuring tables.   And on one of the tables, stood one of the
squirrel people - the Reechi - that Maeve had talked about.   She was
tiny - perhaps thirteen inches long, with black fur going silver, and she wore
a light blue dress with white trim that seemed tailored to allow her tail some
ease of movement.  She had tiny earrings in her ears, and a silver
bracelet on one arm.

“Hello Joorie!   Is Rosie here today?”   Maeve called to
the small Reechi woman.

“Maeve!  It’s good to see you.”  Joorie squeaked.  “Goddess
knows where that child is.  I have my hands full just making sure she
doesn’t run off into the woods on some harebrained adventure.   Are
these two ladies friends of yours?”

“Oh, yes...  This young lady is Erica, and her friend is Christine.
They’re in need of a few changes of clothes - mostly durable outdoorsy clothes,
but small-clothes too.   Erica, Christine, this is one of my good
friends, Joorie Clik-tik”

Wow, thought Erica.  She sounds sort of like a cartoon character
from back home.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”

“The pleasure is mine, Serra!  Are you looking for tailored, or some of
the items we have already made?”   Joorie motioned towards the tables
of folder clothes.

“Well for now, I think the ready made... We can alter them as needed if we have
to.  Erica and Christine are new in town, and need to get the
basics.  Their luggage got... lost... on the way here.”

You know how it is, thought Erica.  You’re going on an
inter-dimensional journey through a demon-infested Void, and you forget to pack
an overnight bag.  Happens all the time...

“Well, let me measure you both, and I’ll be able to direct you to a table that
might fit better!”   Joorie said, grabbing a measuring tape.

Joorie seemed filled with boundless energy.  She was always moving,
measuring and just doing.   She motioned for Erica to hold a
measuring tape - and in a flash had climbed up to Erica’s shoulder and put the
string in her armpit, nodding for the measurement.   In a flash, the
rest of Erica’s and Christine’s measurements were taken the same
way.

Christine found the measuring both ticklish and surprising.  I guess
its not everyday you get your measurements taken by a talking squirrel in a
dress.   This place is frigging weird - but they do seem nice, at
least.   I can think of a lot of people back home who would LOVE this
place.  Aside from the strangeness of meeting a Reechie, Christine
thought that Joorie seemed just like any other woman, from the way she gossipped
to talking about family problems.  It was kind of odd, but familiar at the
same time.

Erica on the other hand, seemed to be having a great time.  She seems
to be adapting to this place better than I am, thought Christine.  What
do I do if she wants to stay here - if she doesn’t want to try and go back to
Earth?

Christine fretted for some time while she and Erica tried on clothes - and
after about an hour, they each had two extra sets of clothes - a wool coat for
each of them, two linen shirts, a woolen skirt, thick leather pants, gloves,
and a spare wool cloak.  Joorie also threw in a scarf for each of them,
and a wool hat, for the cold.

They left the store laden with their new clothes, and headed towards the
general store where they left Kai.  Maeve obviously half expected him to
be gone, and at the Musky Mushroom getting the news, but he was still there
when the others arrived, although he was almost finished.   He had a
large bundle of food - everything from dried beans to bacon, a bundle of things
that looked like potatoes but weren’t, and a number of other things - from
tools to nails, fittings, and some other items already boxed up and tied with
string.

“Hey!  You’re back!”  Kai said, as he finished paying the bill for
the supplies, wincing a bit when the shopkeeper told him the tally.
“You drive a hard bargain, Geo.”  He said.

“You’ll not find better goods collected in one shop, Kai.”  Geo
said.  “You pay for the convenience, after all.”  Geo looked to be a
fair skinned man with dark hair in his mid forties.   He wore
old-fashioned spectacles, and looked like he smoked a pipe - his lower lip had
that lightly discolored bump that pipe-smokers often get.

“True - it would take me all day to get the goods I have here from the other
shops.  You give good bargains, my friend – it’s just that my purse is a
little light these days - Maeve has yet to pay me for our latest adventure.”

“Don’t blame me, Kai.”  Maeve said, laughing.  “You’ll get what I
promised, and likely more, once I get back from Arathel.”

Kai nodded, knowing he would.   “We’d best be off Geo - its still a
few miles to the Cabin.”

Geo nodded, and waved Hello to Maeve, Erica and Christine.  “Just be
careful.  The woods are dangerous this spring.  Ser Gharean says
there have been elves and worse creatures in the woods this spring.”

Kai nodded again.  “Thanks Geo.  I’ll stop by with a list of some other
things I’ll need next time I’m in Wethom.”  With that, they left the store
for the streets of Wethom.

“I take it your shopping went well?”   Kai asked.

“Not too badly.”  Maeve said.   “Erica and Christine now have
more than one outfit each to wear, which should be sufficient for the time
being.   And they met Joorie.”

“Joorie was nice.”  Said Christine.  “But really high energy.
Is she always that hyper?”

Maeve looked a little confused.  “Hyper?  Um... no.  She’s a perfectly
normal Reechi.  Her daughter Rosie is hyper.   She gets into a
lot of trouble, that child - doesn’t she Kai?”

“Oh, yes.  She’s very friendly, though.  Which is a saving
grace.  I heard her mother wants to get her married so she‘ll settle down
a bit.”  Kai said.  “I’m not sure that would work.  She’s like
you Maeve - not willing to settle in one spot.  I’ll bet a gold knight
that she goes off wandering like her grandmother Teera did.”

“No bet.” Said Maeve.  “Its practically a foregone conclusion.”

Christine’s head swam at the thought of the energetic Joorie being ‘normal’ and
her mysterious daughter being the hyper one.  I wonder if people see
her move, or if she just leaves a squirrel shaped blur?

Erica piped up with a question.  “So are we going to your cabin now?”

Kai nodded.   “Will you be staying the night, Maeve?  You could
always leave for Arathel in the morning, with one of the horses.”

“I think I will, Kai.  Thank you.”

They gathered up their things, and headed west through Wethom, through the
‘Tree Gate’ - the nickname Kai said the locals gave the westernmost gate out of
the town, since it opened onto a large wild forest.   “The north gate
is the Ore Gate - where miners bring their ores to be smelted and sold, and the
gate we entered Wethom from is called the Trade Gate, since most merchants come
that way on the road, or up from the piers by riverboats.”

The ride away from Wethom this time took them past several farms, and what
looked to be a smelter for ores, as well as a waterwheel powered gristmill and
a sawmill.   Wethom looked to be a fairly significant hub of activity
and trade.   The weather was still clear and cold, and although it
got somewhat cooler as they travelled, they arrived at Kai’s cabin without
catching a chill.   The last farm had been about six miles back, and
by the time they arrived it was nearing dark.

The next half-hour or so was spent with Eric showing Christine how to curry and
care for the horses, while Kai and Maeve went inside and got the wood-stove
going and a kettle of water on by the hearth.   By the time dinner
was ready, it was well into the evening.   Dinner that night was
travel rations supplemented by hot tea, and some bacon Kai had picked up in
town.

Kai’s cabin was spacious for one man living mostly alone.  It had three
smallish bedrooms - each could sleep one comfortably, and two if they got cosy,
by Erica and Christine’s standards.  There was a small kitchen, with an
attached living room where the main fireplace was situated (the kitchen had the
wood-stove).   Antlered heads on plaques adorned the walls here and
there - most looked like deer, but neither Christine nor Erica could identify
the others.   The windows had old-fashioned greenish glass - the kind
with bubbles and imperfections in it, protected by shutters that closed against
storms and high winds.

There was a fur rug in the living room, and some woven rugs
elsewhere.   Tanning racks and archery supplies were all over the
place - it was obvious Kai wasn’t a neat-freak like Christine liked to be - and
it was equally obvious he hadn’t expected to be returning home with company in
tow.   The place looked like it had been cleaned in a hurry - perhaps
when Christine and Eric had been caring for the two horses.   There
weren’t many homey touches like Anvi Marcello’s house had possessed - to
Christine it was pretty apparent a bachelor lived here, and had been living by
himself for quite some time.

“Well, welcome to my home,” said Kai.  “It’s not much, but it’s mine - and
you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need - as long as you help out around
here.”

“Help out?”  Asked Erica.  “With what?”

“Chores, stuff that needs doing.   We’ll need firewood, for
example.  The place will need an airing out and a cleaning if Christine’s
upturned nose is any indication, too.”

Christine blushed with embarrassment.  “Hey I wasn’t trying to insult your
home.”

“I realize that...  But I also realize that my standards might be
different than yours, so I’m willing to tidy it up a bit while you two live
here.”  Kai said.   “I’ll also be spending some time teaching
you both how to do things around here, since you don’t seem to know a lot of
what we would call the basics.  Hunting, cooking, skinning game.
Tanning leather and preparing hides - oh and learning our language too.  I
can try and teach you to shoot a bow and fight with your fists or a dagger too,
if you like.”

“That sounds great!  I’d love to learn how to hunt.”  Erica
said.   “Does it matter which room we pick?”

“Well, the one off the kitchen is mine.”  Kai said.  “Why don’t you
and Christine figure which one you each want to take, and Maeve can bunk with
one of you tonight.  Then tomorrow, once we’ve all had something to eat, I
can get started with the teaching - and Maeve can head to Arathel.”

Christine looked a bit surprised.  “You mean, you and Maeve aren’t...
umm... dating?”

“What?”  Kai said, looking surprised.  “No.”

“Not that we didn’t consider it, ages ago.”  Said Maeve.  “We just
figured we were too different to make it work.  Nature boy here loves the
woods too much, and I love the city too much.  After a week in this place
I would go stir-crazy, and He’s the same way in cities.”

“It’s pretty much as Maeve says - we work well as a team, but we learned long
ago we weren’t compatible in that way when we weren’t working.”  Kai said
laughing.  It was clearly old news to both of them, and more something to
joke about than be taken seriously.   “Maeve can be a bit too tightly
wound and suspicious for my tastes - and she considers me horribly gullible and
not terribly security conscious.”

“It’s amazing you’re both still friends.”  Christine said, laughing.

Maeve chuckled as well.   “I find we work well because we’re so
different.  He balances out my paranoia, and I keep him from being taken
advantage of, or from stepping into a proverbial nest of vipers in social
situations.”

“Yeah.  NORMAL nests of vipers, I can handle.”  Kai laughed.

Dinner finished up soon after, and Christine collected the trenchers and took
them to the kitchen.  A few minutes later, Christine and Erica sorted out
which rooms belonged to whom, and began stowing their clothes and
gear.    While Maeve led Erica through the meditation to control
the Call of Hrask, Christine noticed there were no chamberpots in the
bedrooms.

“Umm, Kai?’ she asked.

“Oh... yes?  Is there anything wrong?”  Kai replied.

“Where do you go when you need to, umm... go?”   Christine was a bit
embarrassed to have to ask - she was getting tired of being thought of as the
stupid foreigner who didn’t know anything - but it was one of those questions
that had to be asked.

“Oh!  Follow me!”   Kai walked to the kitchen, and opened the
shutters - and through the window, Christine could see an outhouse in the yard,
about 20 paces away from the side door - which explained why neither she nor
Erica had seen it earlier.

“Fantastic - thanks.”  I never thought I’d be glad to have to use an
outhouse, thought Christine.  But it’s a damn sight better than
having to toss a chamber-pot out the window onto the street.  I nearly
hurled when I had to do that in Ogden town.  No wonder the place stank so
badly.

*
*          *

Later that night, as they all were getting ready for bed, Maeve took Kai aside
for a while to talk - they went outside for a bit of privacy, but Erica thought
it was also to provide her and Christine with a bit of privacy as
well.

“How are you doing, Christine.”  Erica asked.

“I’m not really thrilled about being here for the next three months to a year,
but otherwise I guess okay.  You?”

“Okay.  I’m glad we have our own rooms...”  Erica said.  “No
offence, but you snore.”

“None taken.”  Christine said.   Christine could tell Erica was
joking from Erica’s tone of voice.   “After all, you might want some
privacy too.  You know, for intimate reasons.”

Erica blushed furiously.  “Seriously?  You think that’s
the first thing on my mind?”

“Are you saying it Isn’t?”  Christine asked, still joking.   “If
I was turned into a guy, I know I’d be curious.  Thank god I wasn’t, mind
you - I like being me, and female.   How are you coping.”

“I’m okay.  It’s a bit different - my center of balance is all screwed up,
but it’s getting better - and learning how to go to the damn bathroom again was
a pain in the ass too.  It’s just different, is all.   I guess
I’ll get used to it.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”  Christine said, with a look of mild admonishment.
“How are you coping mentally?   Most people would be freaking the
hell out about dying - and then waking up in another body, never mind one the
wrong gender.   It’s kind of worrying me.”

Erica was quiet and thoughtful for a moment.  “I don’t know what to say,
Christine.  I... I died.  I died, and I woke up in a new
body.   It’s a miracle - a freaking miracle!   How do you
react to that?   I don’t have any idea how to react to it.  I
mean, Goddesses are freaking real - she talked to me!   And don’t try
to tell me I imagined it - cause why would I imagine a Mercian goddess I knew
nothing about, instead of say, the Virgin Mary or some saint from
Earth?    I can’t explain it.”

Christine watched Erica, and realized she was right - a miracle had
happened.  Inexplicably, it had happened.  It was a miracle.
Christine wondered for a moment how she felt about that.   A
miracle.  Why now?  Why not back home?   Is there something
wrong with our God, or are we just not worthy enough?   Is it even
our fault we never see miracles?   Are they there all the time, and
it just never gets on the news - or are the people claiming ‘miracles’ just
religious crackpots?  There was no easy answer, and no way to deal
with the reality of it all.

“I can’t explain it either, Erica.”  Christine said, the new name of her
best friends little brother still rolling unfamiliarly off her tongue.
“Does this mean Gods are real?  I guess so - here at least.  Does it
mean God is real back home?  I don’t know.   It bothers
me.   Why doesn’t He show his power - there are so many people in the
world who need Him.   Why does he let bad things
happen?    Why are gods real here - in ways people can see - but
back home we have to take it on faith alone.   Its pretty messed
up.  I don’t know how to take it - so I guess you’re pretty confused about
it too, huh?”

“Yeah - that’s an understatement.”  Erica sighed.  “When mom died...
when she killed herself, she left dad and I a note.  She said she was
doing it to protect me from the demons - that the demons wanted me.  She
thought if she gave them herself, they would leave me alone.   I
think that’s why dad hates me - he blames me for mom.   Demons are
real, and Gods are real - but if God back home is real, why couldn’t he save
mom?   Why couldn’t we be protected?   Why did he leave us
alone - why did he let her die?”   Erica tried to keep her composure,
but tears came to her eyes, and soon she was sobbing.

Christine didn’t know what to say, so she moved over to Erica’s bed, and just
put her arm around the young woman, and let her cry till she was
done.   Erica cried for a long while, and eventually the tears dried
up.  It was plain to see she was exhausted.   Christine was
worried for her, but glad also Erica had cried - had reacted, in some way - to
what had happened in the last few days.  Bottling it up would do no one
any good.

“Well, if you need any help with anything, let me know.  I’m here if you
just want to talk, too you know.”  Christine said.   Seriously,
Erica - if you want to talk, tell me.  I’m right here!

“Okay... and thanks.”  Erica said, wiping the last few tears from her
eyes.   “I’m sorry I cried so much... I don’t know why I did
that.  I usually don’t cry like that.”

“Get used to it.”  Christine joked.  “Ain’t hormones
wonderful?   Seriously though, Erica, I’m here for you.  If
there’s anything I can do just tell me, okay?”

Soon after, Maeve and Kai returned, and Eric and Christine’s conversation had
to be put on hold until another time, but that night Erica spent a lot of time
thinking, before sleep overtook her.

*
*          *

The next morning, Kai and Maeve were up first, and the smells of breakfast
permeated the cabin.   Erica and Christine woke to their stomachs
growling, and mouths watering.    After getting dressed and
coming out to help, a breakfast of porridge, bacon, eggs, and toasted bread
with jam was served, to everyone’s enjoyment.   Everyone helped clean
up, except Maeve, who was busy packing to head south.

“Do you think Maeve will be long?”  Christine asked.

“I don’t know.  It depends on the weather, for the travel - but it depends
on how long the Council of Hierarchs feels they need to question her, once
they’ve heard her story.  She seemed to think it would take maybe one week
there and back, and one week with the Council, so three weeks total.
That’s not so long, is it?”

“No, not really.”  Christine said.  “I just worry about what’s
going on back at home, and how long it’s going to take for me to get back...
and I know it’s possible I might never get back, but I don’t think I’m ready to
face that possibility yet.  I can’t, yet.”

Kai didn’t say anything in response to Christine’s statement - what was there
to say?   Either she could adapt or she couldn’t.  Only time
would tell.

Maeve came out of Erica’s room with her travelling gear.  “Well, I’m
off.”  She said.  “I should be back in about three weeks or so, give
or take a few days.  You think you’ll be able to manage till I get
back?”  Maeve asked.

Kai laughed.  “Should be no problems on my end.  Safe travels,
Maeve.”

Erica piped in too.  “Good luck, Maeve.  I hope everything goes well
with the council.” Christine wished her luck and safe travels as well.

“Thanks Kai, Erica.  You know, there’s a good chance they’ll want to meet
you for a conversation or two - and probably with Christine as
well.   Either way, that’s for another day.  I’ll see you
soon.”   Maeve headed out, and picked Sir Tarren’s horse.  Soon
she was heading east - it was easier to head back to Wethom, then head south to
Arathel via the road, than to cut cross-country.   And since Maeve
was a city girl, not a woodsman, it was less likely to get her lost as
well.   The weather was still cool, but it was more than a bit cloudy
as well.   I hope it doesn’t rain, she thought.

A few minutes later, Kai gathered Christine and Erica in the living room, and
asked “Which of you can tell me the Valdan word for apple?  We should
probably get those lessons going again.”  Again, Christine struggled with
the language lesson - but Erica was doing well.  It was frustrating, but Erica
was obviously trying to help her too.   The language lesson went on
for the rest of the morning.

*
*          *

The Trip to Arathel had been, for the most part, relatively swift and
easy.  The weather had remained fair - cool, without being cold, and with
minimal rain or snow.   Maeve had been left alone with her thoughts
for the journey, and for the last several days now, something had been
bothering her.  It niggled at the back of her mind, annoying her with its
unidentifiable annoyance - something she couldn’t put her finger
on.   Maeve had sent word to the council of her imminent arrival by
carrier pigeon when she left Wethom - so they should be expecting her.

Arathel looked much as she remembered it - a grand stone city on the banks of
the might Vestal river.  It was about fifteen times the size of Wethom - a
grand city, and one she liked to call home.   Normally she would go
to her apartment first, which she kept in the merchants quarter of the city -
but tonight she felt her message needed to get to the council first.

As she reached the outskirts of the city, dusk fell, and so Maeve found herself
riding through the cobbled streets in the dark, the streets lit by enchanted
lanterns to provide light and guidance for travellers.   The great
Cathedral of Three Moons grew larger as she approached - it was the greatest of
the churches in the city - the church the King and Queen of Orvan attended, and
the church which contained the Council of Hierarchs.   I’m glad
Erica and Christine didn’t keep asking so many questions about our
government.  Seriously, it was like having children asking why is the sky
blue all the time.  It’s kind of charming in its own way, I guess, but I
don’t think I’ll ever be good mommy material.   I can’t blame them,
though.  If I was stuck in their world, I’d be asking about anything and
everything - like why the hell do they use words that don’t mean what they
should?   Like cool, or organic, or All-natural, or whatever they
say?   Oh well.

Maeve approached the steps of the Cathedral of Three Moons, and tied her horse
at a post beneath its great steps.  As she climbed the steps towards the
top, she noticed the streets seemed unusually empty for this time of
night.  Where is everyone?   Normally there are people
about this time of night.   Worried, she loosened her dagger in her
sheath, and raised her Sight - just in case.   It’s not paranoia
if people are really out to get you, she thought.

As the mage-sight fell over her, she realized she wasn’t alone - there was a
single man behind one of the great pillars, approaching her
rapidly.   Maeve took a closer look - and the world slowed
down.   The man approaching was cloaked in a dark grey cloak, with
black leather pants and shirt.  At his waist was an ornate long sword, and
a silver chased needle-pistol she had seen before, years ago.  No!
It can’t be!  I remember that gun!   She looked higher - and
felt ill as her gaze fell upon the face of one of the Fallen - human sorcerers
who allowed the Call of Hrask to take them over.

Maeve knew that gun - she had seen it once before, when the same gun tried to
kill her, and ended with her killing her own brother to save her life. Whether
this fallen was one and the same, she couldn’t tell... but by the gods, she
intended to get answers!   How did one of the Fallen get within
Arathel’s walls?  HOW?   And then she wasn’t thinking
anymore, as she raised her knife and threw.

The fallen’s gun raised as it drew from its holster; the fallen was fast - he’d
obviously done this before - but Maeve had the edge this time...  She had
seen him coming, and wasn’t paralysed by fear or shock.  What she was, was
full of rage - at herself, at what she had done to her brother Nile.  She
took that rage and regret, and put it all into that one throw, as if that one
throw could make it all better - take back the years of regret and guilt and
sadness.   All that focus she put it, and threw.

The knife whipped end over end, and planted itself in the creature’s chest -
right through his ribcage into his chest.  The Fallen screamed, and fell
prone, his pistol tumbling down the steps near Maeve’s feet.  Blood was
pumping from the wound, and the fallen was gasping for breath as bloody foam
sucked and bubbled around the wound.   Maeve calmly picked up the
needler, and walked up the steps.

“You killed my brother with this gun, you piece of filth.”  Maeve
said.  “You’re going to tell me who sent you, and then I’m going to kill
you slowly.”

The fallen laughed in short gasps, trying to get air.  “Actually, human,
you did a better job of killing your brother than I did.  What’s the
matter?  Run out of siblings to use as human shields?”  The fallen’s
words were sibilant, and serpent like.  When it spoke, she saw its face -
it looked wholly serpentine, complete with a forked tongue.

Maeve’s face clouded in rage.  This piece of shit was mocking her?
Mocking her brother’s death?  She raised the pistol to end the
creatures wretched existence, but at the last second, a small part of her
realized that’s what it wanted her to do.  What it didn’t want her to do
was know what it knew...

Maeve grinned evilly.  I’ll learn everything you know, you
self-righteous piece of filth, then I’ll filet you on these steps, piece by
piece.  She spoke a Word, and in moments was inside the creatures
mind.  It had tried to stop her - but the words of Mind and Sight were
Maeve’s strongest - and in the rage she was in, only a Master of the
disciplines could have stopped her mental assault.   The fallen
screamed in agony - and Maeve didn’t even pause as the creature writhed in a
pool of its own blood.

SHOW ME!
Her mental command screamed.  Show me why you were here!

She fell into his memories as the thoughts spilled forth.   The
fallen used to be a human called Lucas - he came from a small village called
Endbrook.  He fell to the call eight years ago - and he had been tasked to
kill Maeve for her past transgressions against the Hserinyar.   More
memories came - these more recent.   He had spent several years in
Hserin, then come back to Valris via ship.   He had had help -
someone here had facilitated his travel...

WHO?  Who was it?  Maeve’s mental command could not be denied.
At first, an image of Bishop Vargas flickered through his mind - but she
realized he was not the person the creature was thinking about - Vargas had a
pawn.  She saw images of the dreamers - this creature had been to the
House of Broken Dreams!  He’s trying to distract me!  WHO WAS IT?!
She commanded.  TELL ME!

The fallen writhed in pain from the mental trauma being inflicted upon him, all
in utter silence.  Finally, it gave in, and Maeve fell into the memories
again.   She was in the Cathedral of Three Moons, in one of the
antechambers of the heads of the faith in the city.  It was dark in the
room - the Fallen wasn’t alone...   The fallen once known as Lucas
approached a man in shadows, his back turned to him.

“Is it done?”  The man in shadows asked.

“Not yet.  Maeve Varda is riding from Wethom to Arathel – she’ll be here
in less than two days.”

“The fact that she still lives puts us all at risk, Lucas.”

“I know.  I plan to end her when she arrives, before she speaks to the
Council.   That way, whatever she learned at the House of Broken
Dreams will die with her.”

“Good.  What of her henchman - the huntsman?  Her toy?”  The man
in shadows turned and part of his body came into the light.   White
ecclesiastical robes trimmed in gold and silver threads, adorned with
starbursts of gold and silver, and a pale hand with a gold and ruby ring.
“You have taken steps to deal with him, and any with him?”

“I have, your grace.”  The fallen assassin, Lucas said.  “Ser Rodin
will soon cease to be a problem.”  The fallen chuckled.

“Good. We can’t have her and her friends ruining all we’ve worked for, after
all these years.  Make sure it’s done - we need to secure the location of
Tiamat, before we can move to the next stage.  The gods of Man will
fall... This world is Hrask’s.”

“This world is Hrask’s.” The fallen named Lucas said, kissing the clerics
ring.

The vision faded - and Maeve was mute in shock.  The niggling little thing
that had been bothering her all this last week...  How was it possible
for Vargas Elm to rise so high in the ranks of the church - without a patron
aiding him.  It all made sense now...  He had a patron.  There
are only thirteen rings like that one, in all of Valris.  She thought.
And they all belong to the members of the Council of Hierarchs.  Oh
Goddess!  What do I do?  One of them is a traitor - and they’re going
after Kai!

Maeve was chilled with fear for her friends, not to mention a fear for herself
as well.   But it was only a second or two before that fear was
filled with something stronger... anger.  The architects of whatever plan
this was, had been working on it for years - long enough to try to assassinate
her years ago - long enough to have Vargas Elm rise through the ranks to take a
leadership post where he could do the most good for their plot.
These people are responsible for the death of her brother - for the attempts on
her life, and were endangering her friend Kai - and others.  Maeve was
filled with something she could only refer to as righteous fury.  They
will pay.  Maeve vowed.  No one kills my family, or harms my
friends.  I’ll tear the whole plot down around their ears if I have to -
I’ll find who’s responsible, and bring them to justice.  And then we’ll
see who has the last laugh... You just pissed off the WRONG person.

Maeve leaned over and grabbed the knife, and began to work on the Fallen that
was once named Lucas.  It was over too soon, but Maeve gained a small
measure of satisfaction from it.  She didn’t care if it was messy, or
gruesome.  She was sending a message, and she hoped whoever got it, got it
loud and clear.  Nobody messes with my family or friends you festering
piece of lizard shit.  As she wiped the knife clean on the dead things
cloak, a nearby voice called out “Dear Gods!  Guards, guards!”

Maeve turned, and saw two clerics - a man and a woman, both in their fifties,
both wearing the robes of members of the Council of Hierarchs - the starbursts
of gold and silver were evidence of that.

“Maeve Varda!  Thank the gods you’re here!”  One of them called - it
was the woman, Meredith Dillian.   “We got your message, that you
were coming - the council is waiting.  Oh my... is... is that a
Fallen?  Here?   What’s going on?”

Meanwhile the other Hierarch, Donal Blaine climbed down the
steps to the body of the fallen - Maeve had left him a gruesome mess.
“Uggh... He’s dead...  What was he doing here, Maeve?   Did you
find anything from him before he died?”

Maeve looked about desperately.   I can’t BE here right now,
dammit.   Assassins are coming for Kai and if I don’t get out of here
right now, I’ll be too late.  I may already be too late... FUCK!
“No, your grace.  I learned nothing - except He’s the same Fallen that
killed my brother - I recognise his gun, and his skin markings.  He
apparently came back to try to kill me again - and failed.”

The two Hierarchs sighed with relief.   “Well, I’m glad you’re all
right - come.”  Said Donal Blaine.  “The rest of the council needs to
hear what you have to say about the events in Ogden.  You were most urgent
- the entire council is here, as you asked.   We’ve convened an
emergency session to hear your report.”

Maeve looked towards the gates of Arathel, then back to the Cathedral.  If
I try to leave now, they’ll believe the worst.  That I’m a
traitor.   I’ll be lucky to reach the city gates.   If I go
with them, it will be hours - possibly days - before I’m allowed to leave the
city.   Oh Gods, I can’t lose another friend - I can’t.
Kai...   And if I try to protect you, the traitor on the council will
know I know too much.   He’ll have me eliminated.  No one will
be left to stop him...  I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.
Maeve looked conflicted for a moment - but her skill at hiding her emotions
allowed it to only be for a moment.  Maeve calmed herself, and walked up
the steps towards the Hierarchs.   “Of course, your graces - we can’t
keep the rest of the council waiting, can we.  I have important news.”
The summoned guards muttered oaths, and dragged the body of the fallen away,
while Maeve and the two Hierarchs entered the Grand Cathedral.

*
*          *

Meanwhile, at the House of Broken Dreams - or rather, what was left of it - two
things that had once been men probed the burnt rubble, looking for
something.   The two once-men moved with sinuous grace, and heavy
cloaks with hoods concealed their features, and gloves, their
hands.   Nothing, however could conceal their voices. The sibilance
of their speech marked them as the Fallen.

“Over here... I have something.”

The two gathered, and pulled a burnt timber off what seemed to be a scorched
human male, injured - but still breathing.  He still wore a few pieces of
scorched jewellery - including an ornate crystal necklace, covered in soot and
smoke and ash.

“The master survived, as did his seeing stone... Hrask is still with us!”
The first fallen said.

“Excellent - the Hierarch will be pleased.  We need to take him with us -
we need to know what happened here in the past few weeks.  Perhaps some
clue as to what went wrong here will reveal itself.  It is a great loss,
the death of all these Dreamers.”

“If they were able to find the Great Mother of All before this place was
destroyed, then no cost would be too high.  We must return... now.
Quick, help me lift him - he needs aid, and quickly.”

“Agreed.  The Great Work must continue, till the last breath is
gone.”   The first fallen dropped his digging tool, and exchanged it
for a gnarled staff carved with many runes.  The other fallen stepped in
close, carrying the unconscious body of Vargas Elm - and there was a flash of
magic power.  The two Fallen disappeared - leaving nothing save rapidly
fading footprints under the lightly falling snow.   The ashes of the
crumbling, burnt sanitarium were left alone in the night.

*
*          *

Sir Andred tossed fitfully in his bed, unable to sleep.  He tossed, and
turned - and finally sat up, running his fingers through his soaking wet hair
like a rude comb, sighing.  Looks like I’m not getting to sleep anytime
soon.  He thought.  It’s all that young man’s fault -
Eric.   Ever since he threw himself in front of that archer friend of
his - the one working with Maeve Varda - and been reborn in the body of the
Dreamer girl, I haven’t been able to sleep.   The Goddess spoke with
him!  Why?   Why did she make him the first dreamer to
wake?   Are we really approaching the end times?  If Tiamat has
been found, then perhaps we are...

“Pfagh!”  He said, climbing out of bed.  “You’re being a scared
little boy.  If they are here, then they are here.  If they are not,
there’s nothing to worry about.”  Sir Andred shook his head, bemused by
his worries.  Moonlight poured into the room from an open window, lighting
it enough to see, though not too clearly.   Andred stood and donned a
warm robe, and walked over to a nightstand that held his goblet and a flask of
wine, and poured himself a glass.   Perhaps I should pray for
guidance, if the event troubles me so?

What struck him the most was his reaction to the boy before and after his
miraculous recovery.  Before, his impression of the lad was that he seemed
a loyal servant of Maeve and her friend - a lad with a brave and good
heart.  His diving in front of the magical blast meant to kill the archer
friend of Maeve’s - Kai was his name - was selfless and noble.
Then, when the goddess brought him back in the body of the frail Dreamer girl,
Andred’s first reaction was to want to protect her - shield her frail body from
whatever may come.   It’s strange, he thought.  How
one moment I consider his sacrifice brave, and in the other feel I should
shield her and protect her from harm.  She just seemed so small and frail!

Knowing he would get no sleep this evening,
Andred drained his wine cup, and put the cup back on the nightstand.  He
would pray - probably until morning - for guidance.  Maybe the Twins
will send me wisdom, so that I can put these past events behind me?

As he stalked through the halls of his home, Andred realized he must have made
some noise - he could hear his manservant Fionn stirring - probably to see if
his lord had any requirements.  Damn.  It seems no one will be
getting any sleep until I put this behind me.  Fionn is a loyal man -
he deserves better than putting up with my moods and my sleeplessness.

Sir Andred walked through the darkened halls of his home, more by memory than
by good lighting, his bare feet padding on the thick carpets in the hallway
outside his bedroom.  Coming to his small private chapel, he quickly bowed
his head in respect, and entered to begin praying.   He was no
stranger to prayer, Sir Andred - he was a Vigilant of the Third Circle, a Hand
of Hathor - a holy warrior blessed by the Twins to strike down evil and defend
the weak.  It was often said that Feana’s was the velvet glove, and
Hathor’s was the iron fist within the glove - but both the Twins hated evil and
injustice, and both drove their followers to root out evil in all its
forms.  Sir Andred had spent many nights in vigil, praying for
guidance.  This night would be like many others.    He
knelt and lit some candles, and began to pray.

“Oh Great Twins, Feana and Hathor, who are both our buckler and blade, blessed
children of Isundal and Askeline, hear my prayer!    Bless me
with your wisdom, and your guidance, for I am sorely troubled by recent
events.  A Dreamer has woken - but there is more than that - a Bishop of
the faith was corrupted, and somehow no one realized it.  There is
something deeply wrong, and I do not know what path I must take.”
Sir Andred continued to kneel, head bowed, while muttering prayers for some
time.   He could feel he was close - that he was on the cusp of
understanding something important - when he realized he was not alone.

A cool silver light was spilling across the room, from behind him and to his
left.  Slowly he turned - and beheld a warrior made of light - clad in
steel armor chased with gold, whose helmet radiated the light of the stars from
its visor.   The vision carried a sword made of golden glass, and a
shield of the same, and great glowing wings of silver light grew from the
warriors back - and Andred knew, deep in his core, that he was in the presence
of an angel.   He threw himself on the floor, and prostrated himself.

Be not afraid, Sir Andred.  You have been blessed by Feana and Hathor -
and they would reward you for your faithful service.   I have been
sent by the Twins to relate a message to you - and a command.
The angels words were soft - it did not speak loudly - but its words carried a
strength - a depth to them that would not be denied.  They sounded like
music - like the peals of trumpets and war-horns, and singing.

“My lord!   Ask of me, and I will see it done!”   Andred
was terrified - and exalted at the same time.  My Gods want me to do
something!  They see me, and trust me!  I will not fail them, even
should I die trying!

There is a sickness in the Council of Hierarchs, Sir Andred.  One of
their number is the pawn of Vargas - and belongs to the ranks of our
Enemy.   You will travel to Arathel, and find which of the Hierarchs
is the viper in their midst - and slay him.   Maeve Varda is a
trusted servant of our Mother, and may know who the serpent is - seek her out,
and strike him down before he can do further damage to the Faith - and before
he can use the Dreamer Erica to find Tiamat.  The angel paused, and
laid his hand upon Sir Andred’s shoulder; the touch of the angel filled him
with strength, and purpose.

Be not worried, Sir Andred, of the times to come.  Our Father and
Mother do not give more troubles to their children than they can bear.
You will weather this storm.  Protect the Dreamer - for she and her
friends are watched closely by those on High, and may prove instrumental in
saving all of Mercia from destruction and death.

“I will!”  Sir Andred said, his face still bowed.  “Even unto
death!”   Sir Andred felt imbued with might - with the knowledge that
his Gods stood behind him.  That they had entrusted to him - and to him
alone - this vital task.  It was awesome - and humbling at the same
time.   He knew then he would do anything in his power to not fail at
this task, even if as he said, it meant his death.

So be it.

With that, the angel was gone.   Sir Andred could feel his absence -
like an emptiness he did not know he felt until the angel’s presence was not
there to fill it.   He raised his head and looked about - but there
was no sign of the angel ever being there - save the candles, that had been
burned down to nubs.   How long have I been talking with the
angel?   It must have been hours, at least!

“My Lord?  Is everything all right?”

The voice was jarring to Sir Andred’s ears - after hearing the music of the
angel’s voice it was as if mere mortal sounds were inadequate ways to
communicate.   He looked, and saw his manservant Fionn, waiting to
see if he had any needs.   Fionn was clearly worried - it was not
uncommon for his master to pray at any hour of the night - but clearly,
something about Sir Andred seemed to bother him.

“I am well, Fionn - better than well!  I have been visited by an angel,
who has dire news.  Fetch me paper, ink and pen - I must write down what I
have heard, lest I forget.  And send word to Sister Celia at the church
immediately - she will want to hear what I have to say before I leave.”

“Leave my lord?  Where are you going?”   Fionn was obviously
confused - and a bit worried.

“Arathel, Fionn.  I’m going to Arathel - and quickly.  Ready my
weapons and armor, and wake the stablehands - tell them to ready my
horse.   I’m leaving at first light - the Twins have called me, and I
must answer.  I leave at dawn.”

Chapter 18 – Kai’s Cabin

Maeve had been gone for three days, and Erica and Christine had been working
hard.  Kai spent most of the first day back having them help him fix
shingles on the roof of the cabin, chop copious amounts of firewood, and learn
how to tan some animal hides by scraping a blade across a skin stretched taut
on a wooden frame.  The second and third days had been mostly spent with
Kai trying to teach them the local language.   Kai called the local
language Valdan, and the local Kingdom, Valris.

Erica and Christine took a break from language lessons for a few minutes;
Although they had been working hard at learning the local tongue, it was easier
said than done, and both Erica and Christine were nursing mild headaches, even
if Christine’s was slightly larger.

“Argh!”  Christine asked Erica, ignoring Kai’s chuckle at her
frustration.  “How can you be doing so well at this, while I’m still
trying to figure out basic words?  I’m not stupid - I learned French
pretty quickly - but it’s like you already know half of this gobbledegook.”

Erica laughed a bit.  “I don’t know, Christine - it’s just coming to
me.  Half the time it’s like I’m remembering it, rather than learning it
for the first time.  I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Well, it’s certainly making me feel stupid.”   I can’t believe
I’m practically pouting over this, Christine thought.  But it
really isn’t fair.   Christine was indeed almost pouting, which
only made the whole situation look sillier to Erica and Kai.

“Considering you’re learning a new language with no relation to English at all,
I think you’re doing great.”  Erica said.   “Even if I am
somehow using a cheaty-hax to learn - I’m not sure if I am somehow - you’re
learning it pretty quick!  Don’t put yourself down.”

Kai chimed in from the kitchen nearby.  “You both are doing quite
well.   Erica is doing best - but I can’t explain that any better
than I can explain how she ended up in the Dreamers body.”   Kai did
look more than a little baffled by the whole situation.  “It might have
been a miracle, I suppose - but maybe there was another factor at work we
didn’t understand.  I know Sir Andred thought it was a miracle - but I
wonder why the goddess saw fit to return you in the body of the Dreamer girl,
rather than heal the burns on your original body?   Her priests and
priestesses heal dire bodily wounds all the time.  It’s beyond my
understanding.”

Kai poured some water from a kettle heating by the wood stove into three mugs -
and soon the scent of the local herbal tea filled the room.   “The
language skill Erica has shown is surprising - she can already speak sentences,
and I figure at the rate she’s going she’ll be speaking like a local in a few
weeks.   I can’t explain it.  Maybe it has something to do with
the bond between Erica and the Dreamer.  Maeve said that your bond before
you died was uncannily strong.”

Kai brought the tea out, and everyone grabbed a steaming mug.  The tea was
brewed from dried herbs gathered last fall, and flavoured with
honey.   It was good, and tasted a little of blueberries.
Kai grimaced as he sipped it.  “All I had left in the cupboard was Maeve’s
flavoured tea’s.  I thought I had more of my old standby, but it seems to be
all used up.”

Christine smiled.  “It’s fine, really.”

Erica smiled too.  “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

Kai nodded, and sipped his tea.  “Maybe we should take a break for a few
hours, and head outside?   I’ve always been told a change is as good
as a break” - so perhaps I should try my hand at teaching the two of you to
shoot a bow.  How does that sound?”

“Cool!”  Erica said.  “I’d like to learn!”

“I’m not sure when I’ll use it, back home - but I guess I might need to learn
how to hunt if we’re here a while, right?   I’ll give it a
shot.”  Christine looked a bit dubious about the whole bow thing, but
couldn’t deny that although she might not have a use for the skill right now,
it might be far from useless if they ever were in danger again.

“I’m glad to see you at least try it, Christine.”  Kai said, honestly
glad.   Kai gathered up two bows - his, which was noticeably larger
and heavier, and a smaller bow, along with a quiver of arrows.  Like all
the goods they had seen on Mercia thus far, they looked hand-made.

Soon they were bundled up in their warmer clothes - fur boots and mitts, with a
hooded leather parka trimmed with fur as well.   Christine and Erica
both felt like Eskimos in their leather garb - but they also felt one other
very important thing as well - they felt warm.

Kai led the two women outside to a small field behind his cabin.  The
field wasn’t huge - perhaps twenty yards across and thirty yards long, with a
small shack structure about ten yards from the cabin itself on the right side
of the field.   “This is where we’ll shoot.”  He said.  “My
smokehouse is about thirty feet away - I’ll set up a target near that.
Just try not to shoot the smokehouse, alright?”

Christine and Erica chuckled, and watched Kai take a wooden target from behind
the smokehouse and set it up in the light snow.  The target was a wooden
pole wrapped in canvas, stuffed with straw, made in roughly the shape of a
human target - they could make out rough nubs of arms, legs and a head at this
distance.

“Why does it look human?  Why not a circle?”   Christine asked,
not realizing she had spoken aloud.

“I guess he’s not shooting for points.”  Erica answered.  “Maybe with
all the trouble he seems to get into with Maeve, he figured this would be more
appropriate.   I’ll bet he didn’t expect to have company when he came
back, either.”

“True.  Still, it’s a bit creepy.”

“Maybe.”  Erica said.  “I guess things are different here.  I
mean, people shoot paper targets back home with human silhouettes - is that
creepier?”

“Not really, I guess.  I never saw the reason to get into the whole target
shooting thing, with either a bow or a gun - nevermind the hunting.  I
keep thinking I’ll end up shooting Bambi if we do this.”  Christine made a
worried face.  She actually was concerned about hurting Bambi or
another animal like him.  Isn’t it strange how Bambi is a guy’s name in
the movie, yet its associated with women outside the movie?  Weird.

Erica laughed.  “I know - you totally freaked out watching Charlottes’ Web
with Angie when I was ten or eleven, that year you stayed over for
Thanksgiving.”

“Hey, believe it or not, I had never seen that movie before...”  Christine
said, trying to defend herself.  “It had a really sad ending.”

By now, Kai had come back, and handed the smaller of the two bows to
Christine.  “Hey you two, time to learn something.”  He said.
“I like the bow as a weapon because it’s something I’m really good
at.   It’s a useful and deadly weapon - but its primary use for me
has always been about hunting - for food and game, not for killing
men.   It can be a difficult thing to take an animal’s life - but I and
other hunters satisfy ourselves with the knowledge that we waste nothing the
animal has to offer us - hide, sinew, bone, meat - all of it gets used for some
purpose or another.”  While Kai said this, he strapped two leather bracers
onto Erica and Christine’s left arms.

Kai grasped his larger recurve bow, and held it at arm’s length.  “Watch
carefully please - I’m going to show you how to draw a bow and nock an arrow
without hurting yourself or the bow.”  He waited a moment, until he had
their attention.   “First, hold the bow in one hand - left if you’re
right handed, or the other way around if you’re a lefty.  Place an arrow
on the string, like so... and raise the bow slowly to just above shoulder level
- then draw the bow back with the hand holding the arrow, and aim at the
target.”

Christine tried with the smaller bow - but only got a few seconds
into her draw before she was stopped by Kai.  “No... Christine, not like
that.”  Kai moved her left arm upwards, so that it was level with her eyes.
“Like that.”

I don’t see the difference.  Christine thought.  “Why like
that - why can’t I draw the bow back as I raise the bow and arrow up to
shoulder height?  Wouldn’t it save time if there was a fight?”

“Yes, it would save time.”  Kai answered.  “But if you shot like that
repeatedly, your right shoulder would get all kinds of strain, and you’d
probably pull a muscle or tear a ligament - and that’s not good.  Also,
until you’re much, much better, your aim would probably be thrown off and you
wouldn’t hit what you shot at.”

“Okay.”  Christine said, trying again.  She
followed Kai’s steps, and got a grunt of approval.

“Good!   Now take a shot at the target.”  Kai pointed at the
canvas dummy.  “Aim a little higher than the dummy - as soon as the arrow
leaves the bow, it starts to drop from where you pointed it - so unless you aim
a bit higher than the dummy, your arrow will land in the ground, between us and
it.”

Christine took aim - or what she thought was aim - maybe an inch or two higher
than the dummy looked at eye level, and let loose.  The bowstring snapped,
and the arrow flew out of the bow - to fly past the dummy target and land in
the field behind it.  “Aw crap!”  Christine scowled.  I
thought I had it! she thought.

“Cool, Christine!”  Erica said.  “You were close!”

Kai nodded.  “You were close - which is good.  Your aim was a bit
off, but I wasn’t concerned with your aim as much as I was watching you
shoot.  I need to know which of your eyes is the dominant one - the one
you aim with.”

Erica looked a bit confused.  “The eye you aim with
matters?  Don’t you aim with both eyes?”

“You usually do, yes - but one eye draws the other, and it’s not always the same
as the hand you hold the bow with, nor always the side of the hand you
favour.  Your stance and grip on the bow itself are also important - if
your stance is off kilter, or your grip too light or too strong, your aim will
be off true.”  Kai said.

“You didn’t say anything about a stance!”  Christine said.

“This Isn’t a competition... yet, Christine.  I need to see what you do
when you shoot to know how to break any bad habits you have, and show you how
to aim properly.   Competition comes later.  Now lets see Erica
try this.”

I swear, if that girl hits the damn target I’ll stuff snow down her coat so
fast you’ll think it was done by the Flash himself.
Christine griped to herself.

Erica took the bow from Christine, and tried to draw it the way Kai had shown
them, but struggled with the strength of the bow.   “I can’t – it’s
too strong - or I’m too weak.”   She raised the bow over her head,
and tried to draw the bow by pulling down on the string - which seemed easier
to do; she was able to nock the arrow!

Kai shook his head.  “You might as well aim and loose the arrow, now that
its nocked - but if you keep drawing that way, you’ll hurt your shoulder - the
one holding the bow.   Drawing that way can strain your muscles on
the arm holding the bow - so it might be better to not shoot for now, if you
can’t draw the bow normally.”

What?  Erica thought.  I’m too weak to pull a kiddy bow, so
I might as well give up?  Hell no!   She took aim, and tried
to sight down the bow - and loosed the arrow.  The pull of the bow was
such that she had a hard time keeping her aim straight.  She felt the
feathers whip across her cheek, and the string snap against the bracer Kai had
given her.  The arrow flashed out - and missed the target by at least ten
feet or more to one side, and about twenty feet before the dummy.
“Wow, I suck.”

Kai tried to keep a smirk off his face, as he took the bow from Erica and gave
it back to Christine.   “I take it that that means something
different, from where you come from?”  Kai asked.  “Because it didn’t
sound like you meant it the way it sounded.”

Erica paused and did a double-take.  “Oh, yeah - sorry.  I guess I
meant I’m not very good as yet.”  She had the good graces to blush a bit
at least.

Christine released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.  So
she isn’t perfect at everything.  Wow.  She thought.  I
suppose that’s a bit unfair - just a bit of sour grapes I guess.

“Perhaps not, Erica.  I think for you, we need to build up your strength
first - to get you in shape to be able to draw the bow, before I can teach you
how to use it.  How do you feel about cutting firewood?”

Erica’s groan echoed across the clearing, and Christine and Kai both
laughed.   While Erica went to cut firewood, Kai continued the
archery lessons with Christine, who slowly found the experience to be a little
bit addictive.  It’s like playing a video game, but with a real weapon.
She thought.  I really want to hit that stupid dummy and score.
The draw-aim-loose rhythm became Christine’s only concern for a while, aside
from the occasional pointer from Kai regarding her stance and aim, or her grip
upon the bow.   By the end of the afternoon, her shoulders were sore
- but she could hit the target at least three times out of twenty.

“That’s enough, Christine - you’ve done well.”  Kai said.  “It’s
getting dark and we still need to prepare dinner.  I daresay your
shoulders will be sore in the morning.   But I mean it when I say you
did well - some people can’t even hit the target save by chance with so little
training, and you can hit it several times.  You have a talent for it, I
think.”

“Thanks, I guess.”  Said Christine, a little proud of herself even if she
didn’t have a clue where or when the skill would be useful.   “I just
wanted to hit the damn target.”

“We should go see how Erica is doing.”  Kai said.  “She’s probably just
as tired as you are, or more so.”

Christine agreed, and the two of them headed over to see how Erica was
doing.   Erica was standing at Kai’s chopping block - a large
flattened stump on which a log sat ready to chop.  The ground nearby was
covered in sawdust from where Erica had used what looked to be something
similar to a swede-saw to cut a dropped tree into smaller logs, which she had
then cut into firewood and kindling with Kai’s axe.   It looked as if
she had succeeded in cutting a fair bit of wood in the two hours they had been
outside - and Erica had shed her outer parka due to her exertion.  Erica
looked exhausted, and her dress clung nicely to what curves she had.  She
was unwilling to let the log on the chopping block ‘win’.  She didn’t hear
them approach.

“Alright, Log.  Let’s do this.”  Erica planted her feet, raised the
axe, and swung.  The axe sunk into the log, and stuck about two thirds of
the way down.  She groaned, and put the log between the ground and her
foot, and pried the axe free of it for another swing.   The second
swing cut the log in half.   “Finally.”   She said,
exasperated.

“Trouble?”  Christine asked.  “You look like you got a lot done.”

“I guess.  My shoulders are killing me - and I didn’t get all that much
done considering the time I spent.  How did archery go?”

“Archery went well.”  Said Kai, smiling at both of them.  “Christine
has a good technique and a talent for shooting.  We might be able to make
her an archer one day.”

“I was trying to be nice.”  Christine said to Erica.

“Sorry.”  Erica said.  “And great, about the archery.  I think
it’s pretty neat you can shoot - and at least you can draw the stupid bow,
Christine.”

“True.”  Christine said.  “But I’ll bet that once you get some
strength in your arms and legs, you’ll be doing well too.   Don’t
forget, you’ve basically been bed-ridden for who knows how many years - at
least two or three, maybe more - we don’t know what age she fell ill to the sleeping
sickness after all.  That kind of inactivity can really weaken a
person.  Once you get active and build up your strength, I’ll bet a lot of
things are a lot easier.”

“True, I guess.  Thanks.   Is this enough for now, Kai?”

Kai looked at the pile of firewood and nodded.  “It’ll do for now - but I
think you should keep cutting the firewood until your strength gets
better.  It will be good exercise and it’s a useful chore - goddess knows
we always need more firewood.  Let’s go inside and get something ready for
dinner.”

Erica stretched, and rubber her shoulders a bit before grabbing her coat to
head inside.   Oddly enough, both women looked fairly proud of their
accomplishments, even though they hadn’t expected to be.

Inside, Kai lit a few lamps and put away the bows and arrows while Christine
and Erica got out of their winter boots and coats.   Christine
fetched a kettle full of snow to melt and heat by the fire - hot water was
always needed for something - while Erica set the table, and checked on the
stewpot by the hearth.

Dinner was something Kai called ‘pottage’ - a kind of soup or stew, made mostly
of roots and legumes stewed over the fire for hours at a time, with some meat Kai
had hunted for flavor.  Apparently pottage was a dish that was kept in the
pot for days at a time, and new ingredients added as time passed.  Neither
Christine nor Erica could get the children’s rhyme ‘pease porridge hot, pease
porridge cold’ out of their mind when thinking of it.   It tasted
okay - like split pea soup, sort of - but the fact Kai expected it to last a
week in the same pot without refrigeration made both of their stomachs do
flip-flops.

Earlier that morning, Kai had shown Erica and Christine how to make bread -
Christine wasn’t surprised Erica didn’t know how to make bread, but she was a
bit embarrassed to admit she had never made a loaf of bread herself
either.  That’s what the damn supermarkets are for!  She
thought.

Still, however hard it had been to make the bread, they had spent all morning
slavering over the smells of hot bread cooking in Kai’s stove.   If
tonight followed last night, they would probably eat a bowl or two of pottage,
with bread slices and a spoon to help eat it, followed by a simple honey-cake
for desert that Kai had bought in town.   Beverages were limited to
water or hard cider, of which Kai seemed to have a decent supply.

As they ate, Erica asked about the cider.  “Kai - you don’t strike me as a
big drinker.  Why do you have so much cider on hand?”

Kai stopped eating his pottage and considered the question.  “Well, I do
enjoy a drink in the evenings - but like you said I’m not a big drinker except
under certain circumstances.  I guess it’s partially because I get bored
of water after a while, and I don’t have any beer at hand at the moment.
Also, Wethom is a good place for orchards - we’ve got a lot of local apple
orchards - and every vinter and brewer in the area has a recipe for apple
cider.   I did a favor for Genna Candless, who owns the Greenapple
orchards, a few years back and she makes sure I get a barrel or two of their
apple cider or a keg of their Greenapple Brandy at below cost once or twice a
year as way of saying thanks.”

“Neat!”   Erica laughed as she said it.  “It’s a nice way to say
thanks!”

“True,” said Kai.  “Not everyone has money like Maeve to throw around, so
a lot of business transactions are handled by barter and trade.
Money is used and changes hands a lot too, mind you - but trade and barter are
still a big part of day to day life.   I might offer a couple of
rabbits I snared in exchange for supplies to repair the cabin, for example - a
lot of the people in town only get the meat offered at the market, so game is a
little more scarce in their diet.  In fact, a lot of people don’t have
much in the way of meat in their diet at all.”

Christine shook her head, still a bit baffled about how Mercia could be so
different from the world she was used to - and yet have people in it that acted
‘aside from the technological differences’ so much like people back
home.   “I hope us being here won’t bankrupt you, Kai.”

Kai laughed.  “It shouldn’t.  Maeve pays well when she has one of her
crazy missions - and I dare say she’ll probably throw in something extra for me
after this one.   I live pretty well, with her jobs supplementing
what I make as a hunter and trapper.”

“How much do you make, Kai?”  Erica asked.  “If you had to convert it
to money, I mean.”

Kai thought a moment.  “I guess I would make somewhere between a hundred
and eighty to two hundred and eighty silver a month.   If what you
said about how much one of your dollars could buy, I think that would be
somewhere between nine hundred and fourteen hundred dollars per month.
That covers all my living expenses, plus maintenance on my cabin, plus a little
bit extra on the side for me to spend when I go to town to have some fun, or
buy something expensive on the rare occasion I do so.  Plus, travelling
around with Maeve is kind of expensive at times.”

“It makes sense.”  Christine said.  “How much would a hunter living
in a cabin need to survive, back home, compared to what an executive at a
banking firm need to survive?   I guess I’d live in a palace by
comparison.  I guess it gives one a little perspective.”

“A palace?”  Kai asked.

“Christine’s aunt was pretty wealthy.”  Erica said.  “When she died,
she left her home to Christine.  It’s a big house in a fairly expensive
area of the largest city in our home country.  Toronto has over three
million people living there.”

Kai’s eyes goggled at the number.  “Excuse me?  Did I hear you
correctly - or is this another one of your odd words that don’t mean what they
should?”

“No, she means it.”  Said Christine.  “On our world there are cities
with up to fifty million people in them - but they’re pretty rare.  Most
mid sized cities have over a hundred thousand people, though.”

Kai looked amazed.  “Truly?  This Isn’t some jest or joke at my
expense?”

“Nope.”  Erica said.  “But I think its only because of our machines -
like those cars Maeve told you about - that let us do it.  We learned a
lot about how to use the machines to do farm work for us, so the same farm
twenty people would need to work here, only one - or less - needs to work back
home.  It made a big difference.”

Kai could only nod in agreement.  “I guess that makes us here seem rather
backward and provincial, then doesn’t it?”   He sounded a bit bitter
about it - like Christine and Erica’s casual assertions had been almost like a
condemnation of what people here in Mercia had accomplished.

“No - quite the opposite.”  Erica said.  “We’re so used to building
and making things with our machines, that to see what you’ve been able to
accomplish here without them makes the accomplishments all the more impressive.
I mean, Wethom would never exist back home in our world - no one would build
high stone walls around an entire city - and if they did, it would look sterile
and characterless.   Just looking at the walls of Wethom, you can
tell each brick and stone was laid by hand by a craftsman or worker, not a
machine - and it shows.  It has a character that a lot of the modern
buildings and items in our world don’t have.   I think that’s really
cool - it shows how much you care about the things you make, and the things you
have.   I think we’ve lost that somewhere along the way.”

Christine agreed.  “Yeah - I can’t remember the last time I saw a piece of
hand-crafted anything outside a yard-sale or a craft-fair.
Everything is made by machines back home - and like Erica said, most of it
looks okay, and does the job - but it lacks the uniqueness that the furniture
and tools and buildings have here.  We have entire blocks of cities with
virtually identical homes side by side - so much so it’s not uncommon to have
people mistake their neighbour’s house for their own.  That’s pretty
disgusting, in my opinion.”

Kai shook his head in disbelief.  “I don’t think I’d like your world very
much, Christine, Erica.  It sounds like there are so many people they
would be crawling over each other like ants in a hive, and the way you describe
your cities doesn’t make me want to visit them.  I can’t imagine how
Wethom or even Arathel would look if all the houses in one section of the city
looked the same.   It’s hard to understand.”

“Seeing what I’ve seen of Mercia, and how you live, I don’t think you’d like
our world either.”  Said Christine.  “There are parts that are still
pretty wild, and have few people - where hunters live a lot like you do - but
those areas are becoming fewer and farther between.  Eventually they’ll
all be gone.”

After that, Kai didn’t feel much like talking... he seemed to brood a bit over
how different their worlds were, at least to Erica’s and Christine’s
eyes.   It wasn’t long after that, that Kai suggested they all head
to bed for sleep - in the woods, he tended to rise with the dawn, and head to
sleep shortly after dark, at least in the winter.   Christine and
Erica found it a bit difficult to adapt to usually, being used to electric
lights and so on, but tonight they were sore from their exertions, and bed
sounded like an excellent idea.

*
*          *

Erica woke the next morning to feel sunlight hitting the edge of her bed, and
hearing Kai moving about in the kitchen quietly.   Christine was
still snoring lightly from her bedroom, but the loudness of the snores wasn’t
anything near what Erica had joked about with Christine a few days
earlier.   It’s funny,  She thought.   I
feel more normal  here and now than I did for the last four to five years
back home.   I haven’t felt this good since before I got sick with
the schizophrenia - which isn’t even schizophrenia.   Erica
shuddered at the thought of the multiplicity of demons she had seen, clutching
and whispering evil words to the link - the magical cord tying his old self to
the Dreamer he now inhabited.  I wonder if a lot of other
schizophrenics are actually possessed, like some people think?
Erica was kind of torn about her opinion.  After seeing what a real
demon could do, and what it was capable of, I think I’d rather be sick with an
illness.

The soreness in her shoulders had spread to be an ache that covered the
majority of her back, but Erica knew that if she didn’t keep using the muscles,
they wouldn’t get any stronger.  Still, she thought.  I
hope I don’t have to cut too much wood today.  Don’t muscles need some
time to heal first?   She lay in bed, eyes still closed, enjoying
the feel of the sun on her face.  She felt safe.

What about my new body?  She thought.  Can I live like this?
Erica considered that for a moment.  She remembered the day long ago, when
he was only twelve or so; his mother had caught him trying on his sisters
clothes in front of a mirror.  He didn’t know why he wanted to do it at
the time, but it seemed something was just wrong with his life - like it wasn’t
supposed to be the way it was.   He had been so nervous, trying the
clothes on - feeling how they felt different from his normal clothes - but also
happy, because it was the way he wanted to be.   Then his mother
found him - and scolded him soundly - more worried about her stern husbands
reaction to his sons behaviour, than worried over what Eric had been
doing.   I think she knew.  Eric thought.  I think
she knew, and was scared for me.   She knew dad would never
understand...  That’s why she told me to keep it inside, a secret, until
later.   Only there wasn’t a later...  She died.  Dad hated
me - blamed me for mom, and my life fell to shit.  And now that life is
over - and I have to figure out what I’m going to do with this one...
What the hell DO I do?

While she was musing, Erica heard Christine groan as woke up.  Damn - I
can’t stay in bed all day...  She thought.  I guess I better
get up.   Erica pulled back the covers, stretched and got up from
the bed.

About twenty minutes later, both Christine and Erica had cleaned themselves up,
and come back from the cold outdoors.   As much as I like
outhouses compared to the open sewer in Ogden-town, Erica thought.  I
really, really miss indoor plumbing and modern toilet paper.   Plus
it?s really cold out there...  “Cold enough for you?”  She asked,
to no one in particular.

Kai laughed.  “Cold?  It’s a bit chilly and damp, but you haven’t
seen real cold yet.  It’s practically spring outside.   If you
ever have the misfortune to see a Yaskaran winter, you’ll know true cold.
They say it’s cold enough to freeze your blood solid in minutes, if you don’t
dress for the weather.  I’ve seen it – it’s true.  You can get
frostbite so quickly and so badly that you can lose your fingers and toes in
less than ten minutes.   As cold as it gets here, the people of
Yaskar suffer far worse, and do it every year.  They’re a hard people,
born of a hard land.”

“Wow, Erica - I think you just got told.”  Christine laughed.  “I
assume Yaskar is north of us?”

Kai nodded.  “Yes - its actually wider than it is tall, running mostly
east to west from the Dragon sea in the west, to the mountains of Ghaelorn in
the east, and from the northern ice oceans south to the borders of northern
Valris and Madragoor.  I’ve actually heard that its northernmost lands are
so harsh, that trees refuse to grow there - that there’s naught but icy wastes
and tundra.   I’ve not been that far north myself, nor care to do so
- but I suspect Maeve’s been there once or maybe twice.”

“Do people live in Yaskar?”  Erica asked, as she carried the heavy kettle
from the stove to the table to pour water for tea.  “I mean humans, like
us - or do different people live there?”

“Yaskar is home to the Harvon and the Wolfen, although some brave humans
venture there.   The Harvon are like humans in most ways - they look
like us, live much like us, and can breed with us - but they burn bright, like
a candle - and burn out like one too.   Harvon are capable of great
bursts of strength and speed, like nothing you’ve ever seen before I’d wager -
and because of that power, they burn through their life faster than you or
I.  A Harvon will probably live to see forty winters before old age takes
him - if battle, hunger or disease don’t do it first - where you or I could
expect to see sixty - perhaps even eighty winters if the goddess smiled upon
us, and violence or sickness do not claim us quicker.   Because their
lives are so short, they live life to the fullest, without reservations or
regrets.  Their unreserved behaviour makes many in these lands see them as
uncouth barbarians, but I think it’s simply because they don’t have time to
waste on the foolish games we play as part of how we interact with each
other.  We have the luxury of doing so, while they do not.”

Kai thanked Erica for the tea she had poured, and continued.  “The Wolfen
are a people made by the gods.  A long time ago, mankind fought many
demons - and the Harvon were especially sacred to the Twins, Feana and Hathor -
the children of Isundal and Askeline.   When they saw the Harvon were
suffering, and losing their battle against the demonic hordes, they created a
new people - born of the harsh lands the Harvon hailed from.  This people
was the Wolfen - humanoids born from the mighty and powerful timber wolves that
run the northlands of Mercia.  They appear much as you would expect, if a
wolf had the build of a man and walked upright, and was able to speak.”

Christine shook her head in disbelief, as if this other, new race was just
another example of how strange Mercia was compared to Earth.
Erica on the other hand looked interested - a bit overwhelmed by all the
information - but still curious.   As everyone served themselves some
breakfast from the cookpot, Kai continued.

“Together the Wolfen and the Harvon fought against the demons and vanquished them
- and if the legends are true, raised a great shrine to the Twins in their most
sacred of cities – ‘Shining White’ - commemorating their victory.  Since
then, the Harvon and the Wolfen claim Yaskar as their homeland, and live, trade
and raid the surrounding territories as they have for millennia.  The
Wolfen value their pack and the Harvon their clans - and they both cherish
their honor, both personal and pack or clan.  They believe the worst crime
a man can commit is to be without honor.  They rule the north,
together.”  Kai ended his tale, and started eating.

“Amazing.”  Erica said.  “There’s so many things that are different
here.  Can you believe it, Christine?  First Reechi, and now Wolfen
and the Harvon.”

“I can believe it - I mean, magic works and we’re on another world.  Maeve
and Kai said that Elves are real - why not a bunch of different races.
Why don’t we chuck evolution out the airlock - it obviously doesn’t really
apply here anyway.”

“I suppose not.”  Erica chuckled.

When their breakfast of pottage and slightly stale bread was done, Kai finished
his tea and cleared his throat.  “I’m going to be heading into the woods
today, to set up my traplines - unlike Maeve I try to hold down a job when I’m
not working with her.  I’ll probably be gone all day - but if the weather
is good, I should be back in time for dinner.  Do you two think you can
hold down the fort here for today, without me watching over the two of you?”

“We’re not children, Kai.”  Christine said a bit snidely.  “We should
be able to manage.”

Kai scowled, obviously annoyed with Christine’s tone.  “You’re not
children, no - but you both lack the basic skills any child raised here would
need to know to survive by your ages.   I’m not concerned that you’ll
be safe - I’m concerned that you’ll run into problems you won’t know how to
solve without me aiding you, until you do learn the basics.   Like
making fire if the stove should blow out, or making bread - without the use of
your machines from your home.”

Erica got between Kai and Christine, motioning them apart.  “We’ll figure
it out Kai - I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to light a fire - and
together we’ll figure out bread and how to do any other chores, until you get
back and tell us what we did wrong or how we can do it better next time.
We might even surprise you!”  Why is Christine being so bitchy?
Erica wondered.   She really seems to be up in Kai’s face today.

“Fair enough.”  Said Kai.  “I’ll leave the two of you to figure
things out then.  Don’t wander too far from the cabin - there are
dangerous things in the woods this far from town, alright?   Maeve
was right when she said Elves weren’t friendly.”  Kai looked grim as he said
that.  “I don’t expect them this far east this time of year, but that
doesn’t mean there won’t be one.  They spy on our lands from time to time,
and cause mischief while doing so.”

“Mischief?  Like knocking over a water barrel or letting out the animals
from a barn?”

“No.”  Kai said.  “More like kidnapping, arson and murder.  They
might even ensorcell you, or worse.”

“Umm...  You’re leaving us here why?  Are we at risk here?”
Erica looked a bit concerned - and so did Christine.

“Erica, if I truly thought you or Christine were in serious danger from either
elves, or bandits, I wouldn’t be haring off into the wilds to set my
traps.  I was just voicing a concern over the possibility that such dangers
exist - and since you’ve both mentioned elves don’t exist on your world, I
thought I should warn you about the dangers they pose.   I didn’t
mean to alarm you - just warn you a bit.”   Kai looked a bit
exasperated.  It was clear all the explanations he was giving were just as
draining on him to tell as they were for Christine and Erica to try to
assimilate.  “Will you two be okay while I’m gone?  Really?”

Christine stiffened herself, and nodded.  “We’ll be fine - like you said,
it’s not the season for elves, right?  Besides, if we have a problem, we
still have the gun Erica brought from home.”

“We do?”  Erica asked.  “I haven’t seen it since I ummm.... died.”

It was Christine’s turn to be bashful.  “I kind of picked it up after...
you know, and shot Bishop Vargas like eight or nine times with it.  It’s
in my bag in my room - I’ll get it for you if you want.”

Erica nearly did a spit-take.  “Eight or Nine
times!  WOW!  I think you just unlocked an achievement, Christine.”

“Excuse me?”  Kai asked, obviously confused at the turn of phrase.

“It’s a reference to some games back home that taught young people how to
shoot.”  Christine said, coming to Erica’s rescue.  “When you got a
good score, you ‘unlocked an achievement’.   It became slang for
doing something significant and noteworthy.”

“Cool...”  Kai said.  “That’s the right word, right?  Or should
I have said Organic?”

Erica laughed.  “Cool is the right word.  Go set your traps - we’ll
be fine.”

Kai nodded, smirking, and gathered his traps.  He liked seeing Erica smile
and laugh.  Soon his receding form disappeared into the woods surrounding
the cabin, leaving the two women alone.

“Well that suck about elves.”  Erica said, once they were alone.
“I’ll bet you were daydreaming about Legolas or something - you and Angie were
always crazy over Orlando Bloom in elf-garb in that film.”

It was Christine’s turn to nearly do a spit-take.  As she wiped the tea
off her hand, she turned to Erica and said  “It’s not exactly any of your
business whom I do or do not daydream about, okay?”  She didn’t look too
annoyed to Erica - but miffed might be a closer term.   “Unless you
want me to start asking you whom you daydream about, hmm?”

Erica went red, realizing she might have gone too far.  “Sorry Christine -
I didn’t mean to be rude... I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
That and I don’t want her asking whom I daydream about.   I’m not
sure I can talk about that...

Christine scowled a bit, the shrugged.  “I guess I’m just a bit cranky
today.  I’ve been a bit achy, and didn’t sleep too well.”

“Sorry, Christine - I didn’t mean to go too far.”

“It’s okay - I guess I’m just kinda pissed off that unless you discover how to
do an amazingly difficult and very dangerous magical task, we’re never going to
get home.  We’ll never see another movie, listen to the radio, or have
another can of soda pop.  I’ll miss movies.”   Christine paused,
and interrupted Erica before she could apologize again.  “But I want to
tell you, as much as I miss all that stuff, I’d be a lot more upset to see you
get hurt trying to get us home - or try to get us home, and get us stuck in
that Void where you and Maeve said the demons were.  If either of those
were our options, I’d rather we stayed here - as much as I don’t like the
idea.”

“I... thanks, Christine.”  Erica said.  “I am going to try to get you
home.  I promise you.”

“Thanks Erica.”  Christine gave Erica a fond gentle punch to the shoulder,
and then motioned towards the kitchen.  “So what task do you want this
morning - dirty dishes, or making bread and prepping dinner, such as it is?”

“I guess I’ll make the bread.  Maybe kneading some dough will help me
build up some strength in my arms?”  Erica said.

“It couldn’t hurt.”   Christine acknowledged.  “I can pretty
much say I never expected to be in a woodsman’s cabin doing his dirty dishes -
or have you making bread by hand with me while doing it.  As much as this
little fiasco is screwing up both of our lives, it has been a crazy and I guess
exciting experience.  It’s something I’ll never forget, that’s for sure.”

Christine started gathering up the plates and trenchers from the last few days,
and got a basin of soapy water ready, while Erica started mixing the
ingredients to make a loaf of bread - yeast, warm water, flour and
salt.   The chores took a while - Christine was cursing the only
thing she could clean dishes with was a knitted wool cloth, while Erica ruined
at least two batches of yeast before figuring out how to activate it
properly.   An hour later the dishes were done, and Erica had dough
for three loaves of bread rising near the wood-stove.

Erica sat down on a chair with a ‘Humph!’ and pulled a fur around her shoulders
for warmth.

Christine
sat down nearby, and answered with a ‘Harumph.’ of her own.   The two
of them looked thoroughly unimpressed with pioneer living.   They sat
a few moments in silence, just resting and taking a moment to get their
bearings.

“Aren’t we a fine pair.”  Erica finally said, breaking the quiet.
“I’m exhausted after making three loaves of bread - and you’re defeated by
dishes and a lack of dish soap and scrubbing pads.  How lame is that?”

“Tell me about it.”  Christine commiserated.  “There’s probably a
million things that need done around here too, but half of them I wouldn’t even
know where to begin.”  She picked up a rack with a fur stretched taut
across it.  “Like this thing.  I know it’s a skin that has to be
prepared to become a fur Kai can sell - and I know He’s been showing us how to
scrape them well enough - but what if he brings home a chicken or a quail for
all of us to have for dinner?  Do you have any idea on how to pluck a
bird’s feathers like that, or how to prepare its carcass for eating?  I
don’t - I get my meat from a supermarket, where it’s all done before we see
it.  Like normal people.  Do you have any idea on how to butcher a
pig into roasts and chops?   I’ll bet Kai does.  This place is
just too different.”

“I bet it wouldn’t take too long to get used to it.”  Erica said.

“Yeah, I suppose - you can get used to almost anything.  I just don’t want
to have to get used to it.”

“I know.   Hey Christine, all kidding aside, were you hoping to see a
handsome elven archer while we were here?  I have to admit, I wasn’t
expecting elves to be the creepy Grimm’s fairy tales versions instead of the
friendly Middle-Earth versions.”

“It would have made the situation a little more bearable.”  Christine
said, smiling wryly.  “I have been going through a dry spell lately
relationship-wise...  Maybe a fling would make this place a little more
tolerable.”

“Umm... maybe TMI, Christine?”  Definitely Too Much Information,
thought Erica.

“Well what about you, Erica?  Did you have anyone you liked back in T.O.?”

“No... most of the time I was begging for change, so Norm and Dave and I could
get some coffee or booze or smokes, and then find a safe place to sleep where
the gangs and the hoodlums wouldn’t bother us too much.  I was pretty out
of it a lot - the voices messed me up badly.  I still can’t believe that
they’re demons - at least in my case.  I almost wish I was crazy instead.”

“No you don’t - not really.  I’m betting you’re freaked out more about the
demons - but you’re really glad you aren’t crazy.  Am I right?”
Christine looked like she was trying to puzzle something out.  “I mean, no
one wants to be crazy - I think people are more terrified of their personality
changing due to an illness or injury than they are of being maimed or
killed.  Your whole identity is at stake.”

“I suppose you’re right.  I just can’t reconcile
what we thought we knew about reality, with the mental image of dozens of
demons speaking through the link I had to the Dreamer and maybe other people on
earth too - it goes against everything we’ve ever been taught.  It doesn’t
make sense.”  Erica said.  “And I guess you could say my identity has
taken a hit or two in the last week, huh?”  Do I tell her?
What if she laughs?   What if she won’t speak to me
anymore.   I don’t want to be alone here.   There was a
quiet moment as Erica considered what to do or say.

“What do you mean, Erica?   The body switch with the dreamer, the
ability to do magic against all scientific reasoning, the existence of demons,
or the existence of Gods and Goddesses that can be actually seen and proven to
exist - when they show themselves.   I think most people from back
home would crawl into a bottle and never come back.   I... I have to
admit, after seeing what happened to you, and your friends Norm and Dave, I had
a few too many drinks trying to deal with it.   It bothered me a
lot.  I know it bothered you a lot too - they were your family in their
own way.”

“I miss them a lot, Christine.  They took care of me, when Dad would have
just locked me up in some institution and forgotten about me.  Angie was
too busy, and she had her boyfriend and her life.  I didn’t want to burden
them.”  Erica felt tears slowly forming on the edge of her eyes.  “I
miss them a lot and I want the bastards who hurt them to pay.”   Oh
hell yes, I want them to pay.  She thought.  Norm and Dave
deserve justice, if nothing else.

Christine nodded, but said nothing... She wasn’t sure what to say.
She was relieved when Erica gathered herself and changed the subject after
brushing away her tears.

“I meant my identity as Eric or Erica.  That I’m in the Dreamer and the
old me is dead.”  Here goes.  Thought Erica.  I hope
to god that she doesn’t hate me...   “I... I didn’t have anyone
romantically back home, cause I was kinda confused as to what I was and what I
wanted.”

Christine nodded - and didn’t laugh.  In fact, she looked rather serious,
and concerned.  “Are you trying to say you think you were gay?  Cause
if you were, I don’t think it’s a bad thing...”

“No... I don’t think I’m gay - I don’t know what I am in that regard.  I
never thought about who I wanted to be with, because I felt that I was
disgusting and ugly, that my body was messed up and wrong.  I wanted to be
a girl, not a guy - ever since I was little, and I knew my dad would hate me
for it.  He already hated me anyway.”

“Do you feel disgusting and ugly now?”  Christine asked.  “Or are
things better now?”

“I... I don’t know.  Yes...  I think yes - but I think I’m getting a
hell of a lot of ‘Be careful what you wish for’ thoughts.   I don’t
have the slightest clue how to act, or what to do, or how to live like this -
and I’m scared shitless.   I feel like I dove into the deep end of a
pool, and I don’t know how to swim - but yeah, I... I don’t feel like a freak
anymore.”

Christine got up, and slid over to Erica’s side, and held her hand.  “It’s
okay Erica.  It kinda makes sense, considering what your sister told me -
we talked about you a lot when you were on the street.  She’s suspected
something’s been bothering you like that for years, although I don’t think she
knows what you just told me.  I think she would understand you know... no,
I know she would understand.”

Oh my god!  She thought.  I said it - and she’s not
laughing.  She’s not yelling.  Thank god!   Erica grabbed
Christine and hugged her, tears coming again unbidden.  “Thank you.” she
said.  “Thank you.”  Just being able to say the words - telling
someone else who she felt she really was - was like taking a weight off her
soul - a burden she was finally able to set down after so long.  She
didn’t know how else to describe it - a weight she didn’t realize was so heavy,
so crushing - was suddenly gone, and she felt like she could fly.

Christine let Erica hug her a while, then gently disentangled herself from the
hug.  “You know kiddo - if you’d told that to your sister a week ago,
you’d have probably felt a lot better too.”

“Maybe...  It just was the wrong time.  I was still messed up from
the voices.”

“Maybe - but maybe you would have been surprised.”  Christine tweaked
Erica’s nose.  “Hey - you know my favorite character from the Lord of the
Rings - whose yours?”

“I’d have to say Arwen...”  Erica said, turning a bit red.

“Why?  Because she’s a beautiful badass princess, and marries a handsome
King?  Cause you know you do kind of have a little of that ‘Liv Tyler’
look going for you.”

“Heh heh... Really?  No - I didn’t like her just for those reason, not
really - although I really like the badass princess part.”  Erica laughed,
a bit sadly.

“Well why then?”  Christine was obviously curious.

“Because her dad Elrond really loved her, no matter what path she took.
I’d give anything for my dad to love me - and I know he never will.
Never.”   Erica lowered her head and closed in on herself, crying
quietly - obviously too upset to continue talking...

Christine, not knowing what to say, just put a reassuring hand on Erica’s shoulder
for a moment.   “I’ll be outside if you need me, Erica.” she said,
then went outside to cut some firewood, and give her friend some privacy for a
little while.

*
*          *

When Kai arrived back at the cabin, it was nearly dark.  The traps had
been laid, and he’d found some excellent game trails.  Maybe I should
disappear for weeks at a time more often.  The game seems to like it that
way.  As he walked into the clearing, he heard a loud thwacking sound,
repeated often - and as he came closer he saw the source - Erica was beating a
pair of his rugs with a shovel to get the dust off them.  They were draped
over a fence post, and there were clouds of dust in the air.  Why is
she cleaning my rugs?  It’s not time yet!

“Hello!”  He called.  “Thank you, Erica. You didn’t have to clean the
rugs you know.”

Erica paused for breath, and coughed a bit.  “I know.” she said.  “I
just wanted to hit something, and Christine cut all the easy to get to
firewood.”

“Bad day?”  Oh boy... this sounds like a bad day.  Maeve would
know what to do... Dammit, what should I say?  Kai looked at Erica -
she was covered in dust from heat to toe - and aside from being too thin -
looked beautiful.  He caught himself staring and looked away.

“Not really.  I kind of realized a few things, and needed to work out some
nervous energy.  Plus I wanted to really hit something.”  Erica
smiled, and pointed to Kai’s belt, where two rabbits hung.  “Are those for
dinner?”

“Yes...  Think you and Christine are ready for me to show you how to clean
and skin them, then cook them?”   Kai was glad to change to another,
more comfortable subject.

“I am - but I’m not sure about Christine.”  Erica sneezed once, then twice
more.  “I think I need to wash some of this dust off first.  I’ll
need to clean up a bit first.”

“That would be a good idea.” said Kai.  “You don’t want to catch a chill
out here - and we don’t need you sneezing all over dinner either.”
The joke was plain in his voice.  “I could use a wash too, I guess?
I don’t usually bother too much with that stuff - but I usually don’t have
company either...”

“It’s okay.  We’re just used to washing up a lot more often.  We know
things are different here - no worries.  Let’s go inside.”

Kai nodded and moved to go inside with Erica.  She seems different - I
don’t know how, but she seems different.  Less troubled.   I
wonder what happened?  There was no easy answer, without intruding on
her privacy, so Kai let it be for now, figuring when Erica was ready to share
whatever revelation had changed her demeanor, she would.   They had
rabbits to clean and cook, after all.

Chapter 19 - Council Meetings

Maeve entered the Cathedral of Three Moons with two of the Hierarchs - Meredith
Dillian and Donal Blaine, the same two Hierarchs that had found her on the steps
of the Grand Cathedral with her knife in the guts of one of the
Fallen.   Both Dillian and Blaine looked shaken - possibly even ill -
by what they had seen - the mess Maeve had left of the assassin wasn’t
pretty.  Maeve was still possessed by a feeling of righteous anger, which
she was trying to clamp down on - it wouldn’t help her for what came next.

Keep yourself calm, Maeve.  Anger won’t help - not until you know which
Hierarch to focus it upon...   Maeve strode towards the Hierarchs
council chambers with a practised step - she had been there many times in the
past - although she let the Hierarchs lead the way.  Protocols must be
followed, after all, She thought.  It wouldn’t do for two of the
most powerful clergy in the country to come stumbling in on my heels like
lapdogs, would it?  People might get the wrong idea.

As the Hierarchs with Maeve entered the chamber, Maeve could see the other
Hierarchs standing about, looking mostly curious and a little bit worried -
probably about what they expected Maeve to report.  Obviously it was
something serious enough to convene the council at short notice - but Maeve
seriously doubted any of them, save perhaps the traitor in their midst, had
even an inkling of what she was about to tell them.  It’s going be like
one of those infernal Madragan fireworks going off in a nest of baby
ducklings.   The next few minutes won’t be pretty; I wonder if any of
them will soil themselves, or if they’ll rather call me mad, and alarmist -
than believe what I have to say?  She entered the room, and stood
waiting while the Hierarchs headed to their chairs.

Once the Hierarchs were seated, Maeve gathered herself and made herself ready
to address the council.   The page - a young priest, - whose sole
duties were to assist the council in its bookkeeping and in performing the many
rituals that accompanied their daily routines, addressed her.  “Maeve
Varda, it is said you bear news of great import to the Council.  Are you
ready to speak the truth as you know it, and bear witness to what you have
seen?”   The ritual question was as old as the Council of Hierarchs
itself - the traditions of which were so ancient, no one living really knew
their true origin.

“I am ready to speak the truth.  I am ready to bear witness.”  Maeve
said, standing at attention.  “I await the council’s
pleasure.”   Please let this song and dance end, so I can go save
my damned friends!  Damn these rituals!  This is going to take hours
at this rate...

“Approach, and be annointed.”  Kieran Stoll, the nominated head of the
Hierarchs spoke.  “Be washed clean of your sins, in our service, and be
blessed by our blessed Father and Mother, Isundal and Askeline.”

Maeve walked forward, at a respectful pace - rushing would definitely not help
here - and allowed the council’s page to anoint her with holy water from a font
lined with silver leaf.  I think his name is William, thought
Maeve.  He’s probably on the fast track to becoming a Clerist.
Good for him.

The page intoned a prayer as he sprinkled holy water upon Maeve with an
aspergillum.  “May the sins you have incurred at the behest of the Council
be washed away.  Let the darkness you have seen be lifted from your heart,
and let your mind be clear as you recount what has transpired.  Blessed
are they who serve, in the Gods names.”   William stood back and
bowed to Maeve, and motioned for her to take her usual place at the centre of
the council hall.

The council hall was large, as befit the status of the individuals
present.  It had high vaulted ceilings, which were covered in both
ornamental carvings and small icons of faith.   The floors were of
fine tile, carved in a beautiful design, which was supposed to enhance ones feeling
of oneness with the God and Goddess.   Maeve was never sure if that
part really worked.   Surrounding the central platform, where
speakers stood to address the Council, stood thirteen elaborate chairs and
lecterns, where the Hierarchs could keep any notes, and rest comfortably while
they contemplated affairs of the church.  The whole room was designed to
radiate a feeling of power and respect, rather than wealth and
ostentation.  The room was fancy, without being extravagant - but still a
showcase of how much stock the Church put in the judgement and rulership of the
Council of Hierarchs.   They were probably amongst the fifty richest
people in the kingdom - indeed, a few of the Hierarchs had personal aides with
them as well - Maeve could see three; they worked for their Graces Lissa
Brentworth, Michael Lisker and Shaun Dunlop.  They probably shouldn’t
be here for what I’m about to say.  Maeve thought.

William, the aide to the Council spoke, disrupting Maeve’s reverie.  “You
now address the Council.  Speak when you are ready.”

Thank the Goddess!  Maeve thought.  About time!
She turned slowly to address the Council, meeting each of their gazes briefly -
but in that time, trying to impart by look alone the seriousness of her
intent.  In her years working for the Council as a problem solver, Maeve
had learned a bit of showmanship - it served to not only make her appear
competent and in control, but it also assisted her in getting her point across
when needed.  They knew she was a professional - not some nebbish little
sneak-thief who didn’t know how things got done.  I don’t like playing
politics, but sometimes their stupid little tricks help out.

“Your Graces, what I have to say is very serious indeed - and I believe you
will not want others outside the Council to hear what I have to say.  I
would ask that the room be cleared of all save ourselves.”   Maeve
stood tall and firm - to look weak would not do.  These people, the
Hierarchs, dealt at a level of power that most people in Valris never saw nor
understood - only the High Nobles, the Kings and Queens of the Provinces - and
the Muirainne and Fireannor themselves - were more powerful.  Collectively
and individually they were beyond
reproach.

“Is this really necessary, Serra Varda?”  Hierarch Donal Blaine
asked.   The other hierarchs nodded as well, seeming like they
thought perhaps Maeve was being a little too theatrical.

“I believe it is, your grace.”  Maeve stood tall, and made no other
comment.  If they want to command me to speak, then so be it - but I’m not
spreading this further than it has to go.

Hierarch Blaine looked at his brothers and sisters of the cloth, and at Maeve,
and seemed to shrug.  “I suppose we might as well do so, my
colleagues.  She’s a stubborn woman, as we all know - but she’s not
inclined to panic unnecessarily.  Clear the room.”   With that,
William, the aide to the Council, ushered the personal aides to the hierarchs
out of the chamber and pulled the door closed behind him.

Hierarch Shaun Dunlop ran his fingers through his thin, silver hair and
sighed.  “We’ve done as you asked, Maeve.  Now tell us - what was so
important we had to all be present to hear - and at this time of night?
What was so important that it couldn’t wait?”   He didn’t look like
he expected to get a satisfactory answer...

“Your Graces,” Maeve began.  “You sent me north to find out about strange
rumors regarding The House of Broken Dreams, north of Ogden town - how it was
said that perhaps they were trying to spread the worship of Lady Delirium to
Valris, which was against their charter when their temple was allowed to be
built.  I have investigated the matter - and found an even more dire
threat than what you supposed.   Mistress Awai, the head of the
temple, was using the House of Broken Dreams to gather together and house over
one hundred mageborn Dreamers.  And...” Maeve was cut off by sounds of
astonishment by the Hierarchs...

“Preposterous!”  Hierarch Gillian Mareth exclaimed.  “How is that
even possible?”

“It would be insanity to gather even a dozen Mageborn dreamers,” Hierarch
Brentworth said.  “If you could even find a dozen, let alone a
hundred!”

Maeve endured the Hierarchs disbelief and shock for a few moments.   These
pompous airbags are going to spend all night arguing whether or not it’s
feasible to gather a hundred dreamers unless I stop them now.
Maeve cleared her voice, interrupting them, which earned her several angry
looks from the Hierarchs.

“Whether it makes sense, or not is not the issue, your Graces - the fact is, is
that it was accomplished.   I believe that Mistress Awai and her
acolytes used their divine magic and the blessings of Lady Delirium to prevent
the wholesale chaos collecting those huge numbers of dreamers.  And that
is not the worst of it, your Graces.  Bishop Vargas Elm was working with
Mistress Awai...”

If Maeve thought the disruption and astonishment was significant before, it
paled in comparison to what the last statement brought about.
Maeve let it wash over her, trying to not flinch before these powerful agents
of her church.  One of them is a traitor.   One of them is
Vargas Elm’s co-conspirator - but which one?   She watched them
carefully, looking for any clue.

Eventually the hubbub subsided, and a Hierarch - Meredith Dillian - turned to
Maeve, levelling an accusing stare.  “Are you saying that Vargas Elm - a
priest of Isundal and well respected by this Council - would stoop to doing
such a thing?  Preposterous!  To what end?”  She looked like the
idea was akin to swallowing a fly - unpleasant and to be avoided.

Hierarch Dunlop called out as well  “I would like to know what you mean by
all of this - why is this important?  You obviously mean to get to a point
- so I say get to it.”  He looked tired and a bit bored, and more than a
little annoyed.

One Hierarch, who had not spoken, nor brought much attention to himself thus
far chose to step forward an speak.  Hierarch Daniel Conner raised his
voice - and made a very astute observation.  “Excuse me, Maeve.  You
said Bishop Vargas Elm WAS helping Mistress Awai with these Dreamers.
What is he doing now?”  The rest of the Hierarchs paused, realizing that
none of them had considered what might have happened.

“Bishop Vargas Elm is dead, as is Mistress Awai, and all but one of the hundred
Dreamers.  The House of Broken Dreams is in ashes.”

The council of Hierarchs erupted into chaos - half of them screaming at each other
about the absurdity of Maeve’s claims, while the other half were screaming for
Maeve’s head.   Eventually Hierarch Blaine calmed the others, and
turned to Maeve.   “We sent you there to investigate what was
happening - not to cause wholesale destruction!   Speak quickly and
plainly - what happened, and why is Bishop Vargas dead?  How did you so
colossally foul up what should have been a simple assignment?”  Hierarch
Blaine looked more than a bit worried and concerned - as did several of the
Hierarchs; the rest just looked angry.

Maeve scowled herself.  That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you fools,
yet I keep being interrupted, she thought.  “Your Graces, Bishop
Vargas was an agent of the Hserinyar.  He was attempting to...”

“Lies!”  Hierarch Blaine yelled.  “I’ve known Vargas for years!
I demand you provide proof this instant, or I’ll have you in chains for
this!”   The other hierarchs were in shock at her accusations - and
Donal Blaine’s vehement defence of Bishop Vargas.

Aha!  Maeve thought.  We have a winner.

“Now wait one minute, Donal!”  Hierarch Lisker said.  “He may have
been a protegé of yours, Donal - but He’s been away from Arathel and your
guidance for several years.  It could be possible He’s fallen from the
path...”   The hierarch turned to Maeve and spoke.  “I sincerely
hope you have adequate proof of his guilt in this matter?”   Lisker
looked as if he sincerely hoped she did.

She calmly opened her belt pouch, and withdrew Vargas’ black ring, and a
parchment letter, stamped with Sir Andred’s seal.   “I have here in
my hand proof of Vargas Elm’s perfidy - and a written statement from Sir Andred
of Ogden town - a Vigilant of the Third circle, and a Hand of Hathor,
corroborating my claims as to what happened at the House of Broken Dreams.”

“And just what is it you hold, Maeve?”  Donal Blaine’s voice dripped with
contempt.

“Bishop Vargas’s Black Ring.”   She placed the enchanted ring on the
lectern before Hierarch Lisker, who stared at it in shock.  The other
Hierarchs recoiled, stunned that such an evil thing should be brought before
them.   “Bishop Vargas was a bearer of the Black Ring.  He was a
Hserinyar agent on a deadly mission of great import - he was attempting to find
the location of Hrask’s mate, Tiamat.”

This time, the silence was deafening.   The Hierarchs, shocked - for
once - into silence, looked pale.  Finally Hierarch Brentworth
spoke.  “Go on, Serra Varda.”

At last, Maeve thought.  They’re listening and not
bickering.  Thank the Goddess!  It’s like leading children to chores
or school, I swear!   “I learned several things in my
investigation, some of which I find difficult to understand - but please be
aware I can prove what I say.   Bishop Vargas and Mistress Awai had
discovered that the Mageborn Dreamers were linked to living, breathing people
on other worlds in the Void.”  She paused a moment - but no one
interrupted her.  Good, she thought.  “They were using the
link between the Dreamers and the people they were linked to, to search, after
a fashion, for the location of Tiamat, Hrasks’ mate.   The day I
discovered the true nature of their plot, they summoned a demon - an Utukku -
to track down and bring the person linked to one particular dreamer on another
world in the Void, and bring him or her here, to Mercia - so they could be
questioned.”

Maeve paused a moment, shuddering at the memory of her trip in the demon’s
claws through the Void.  “I was seen, and captured - Vargas held me with a
spell, and gave me to the demon as food.  The demon carried me through the
Void to the other world, where I met the person linked to the mageborn dreamer
on our world.  He was a young man named Eric, who was also Mageborn.
He helped me escape from the Utukku - and in our escape, we found one of his
friends - a woman called Christine.   He was trying to explain what
had happened to her, to prevent her from calling their city guards - when the
Utukku came upon us again.  I don’t know how he did it, but he was able to
use magic without any training whatsoever, and carry not only himself, but
Christine and Myself into the Void, and back to Mercia.”

There were a few murmurs of shock, but none of the Hierarchs
interjected.   Maeve continued.  “When we arrived, I needed to
reconnoitre with an ally I’ve worked with before - a tracker named Kai.  I
took Eric and Christine to our camp, where I learned that in their oldest
legends of pre-history, one of their gods slew Tiamat and used her body to make
their world.  I realized that if Bishop Vargas got his hands on Eric, all
could be lost - but I also realized it would do no good to save Eric, if all he
had to do was find Tiamat through the sleep of another of his hundred
dreamers.   Kai and I decided we had to slay the other mageborn
dreamers to prevent Vargas and Awai from finding Tiamat.   It was
while we were performing that task that Awai and Vargas came upon us.”

“In the ensuing battle, Kai and I were wounded, Awai was killed with aid from
Sir Carmichael and Sir Andred, and I overcame Vargas with aid from the
others.  Eric was killed by a blast of dire magic hurled by Vargas - but
he did not remain dead.”   Maeve waited to see what reaction that
recieved.

Hierarch Connor, the quiet one who first noticed Maeve’s statement of Vargas’
passing stepped forward.  “What do you mean, Maeve.  Was he killed,
or not?”

“What I mean, your Grace, is that Eric died from the fire hurled by Bishop
Vargas, but even as his body from across the Void expired, one of the dreamers
- a Valdan girl - awoke, and claimed she was Eric.  She claimed a kind
woman bearing keys of glass and a green bow named Seleni” told him he would
wake without pain - and he apparently did, in the body of the dreamer.
It was easy to verify his identity - his friend from their homeworld recognized
him, even with his change.  I believed him because he had no prior
knowledge of our gods - he would have had no way to know how to fabricate a lie
of that clarity.   I believe he may have been the recipient of a
divine miracle - but as to why, the goddess seems to have saved him - for
whatever purpose, I do not know.”

Here it comes.  Maeve thought.  A Dreamer will wake - the
first of the great signs of the End Times.   How can they not
panic?   I’ll be lucky if I get out of here by dawn.  Hell, I’m
lucky they’re not planning on having me hanged!

The tumult that followed was pure chaos.

*
*          *

Maeve groaned with exhaustion as her carriage rattled its way through the
streets of Arathel.   After she had let the news of the miracle out
of the bag, the council had argued for hours - and many of those hours had been
spent grilling Maeve over what happened to her over the last week in exacting
detail.  I was hard pressed to keep some details out, too!
Maeve thought.  They didn’t need to know about Vargas having a
co-conspirator on the council.  Not yet anyway.

The carriage rattled through the streets at a good clip, horses hooves
clip-clopping in a quick, relaxing rhythm, which nearly put her to sleep,
despite the noon-day sun.  I have to get some sleep, or I’ll be useless
to Kai and anyone else for that matter.   Just a few hours.
As she dozed from exhaustion in the carriage, her mind replayed the last
several hours.

Maeve had explained herself time and again - and more than once the Hierarchs
were shocked and appalled at the sheer magnitude and audacity of the
Hserinyar’s plan.   The revelation that the mageborn dreamers could
be linked to other, living people or creatures was shocking enough... The fact
they could be used to search other worlds in the Void for things better left
unfound, was another.   And the dire threat that Eric might be used
to discover the resting place of Tiamat was very frightening to many of them.

Surprisingly, only four Hierarchs had suggested Eric, or Erica as she was
calling herself now, be put to death - and equally surprising was that of the
three Hierarchs that came to her defence against such an action being taken,
one of them was Donal Blaine.    Of course, he can’t find
Tiamat if he kills her.  Maeve mused, still half awake.  He
needs her.

In the end, cooler heads had prevailed and Erica’s life was to be spared - but
Maeve was to bring her to Arathel, along with Erica’s friend from the other
world, so that they could be placed in protective custody.   At
Donal’s urging, along with Hierarchs’ Dillian and Connor, it was suggested that
she be placed in a protected religious retreat, where she could be questioned
about the nature of her world, and of the miracle bestowed upon her - safe from
the possibility of interference from the Hserinyar.   Hierarch Donal
had even suggested the perfect place: a small priory named after Saint Jillian
of the Meadow.  It lay a few miles outside Arathel, in the hills
surrounding the city, in Arathel’s wine country.  He had argued it gave
the entire council close access to the girl - yet would keep her and her friend
safe from the dangers of the city and any other Hserinyar agents that might be
hidden within.  The rest of the council agreed - and Maeve had been free
to go get some much needed rest.  By that time, she was practically asleep
on her feet.

Maeve was rudely awakened by a voice, and someone shaking her hand
gently.

“Serra... Serra, we have reached your home.  You have fallen
asleep.”   It was the coachman, trying to wake her.  It was a
testament to how tired she was that she didn’t have a hand on a knife or the
thought of a spell in her mind as he woke her - all she could think about was
sleep.

How long has it been since I last slept?   Three days?
Two?  I can’t remember.  Maeve thought.  “Thank you
Ser.  I’ll see myself in.”   She pulled herself from the padded
coach cab’s seat and exited the coach with the coachman’s
assistance.   “Thank you, again.”

“No problem at all, Serra.  Gods bless you, this fine day!”  The
coachman watched as Maeve made her way inside her dwelling.

Maeve stepped inside the apartment complex, and climbed the wooden steps as
quickly as she was able, nearly bumping into Tamara Jurani- a friendly young
woman who lived above her apartment.  Tamara was a dusky skinned Anorian
woman, who had emigrated with her family a generation ago.  She had long
black hair, and the lithe build of a dancer.

Somehow, Maeve was able to get from there, to outside her apartment
door.   I’m starting to black out.  She thought.  I
can’t remember how I got here.  Gotta get inside, get some sleep.
She fumbled with the key, and was barely was able to put the key in the lock of
her door and make her way inside her apartment.   She lived in one of
four apartments on the second floor of a three story building.  It was
spacious, well appointed - and private.  She had picked the place
specifically because the locals had said her neighbours were assiduously not
nosy.   Maeve had been living there off and on for six years, and
never had a problem, and she didn’t expect to have one now - and
didn’t.   She locked the door behind her, and staggered through the
front hall and then the living room, heading towards her bedroom.   Everything
went black - and Maeve knew no more.

*
*          *

Hierarch Donal Blaine left the council chambers late that morning, exhausted
and angry.  Damn that woman!  He thought.  How does
Maeve keep surviving?   How did she survive Vargas?   He
should have been able to deal with damn near anything that came his way... and
Awai dead too?   I swear, Maeve Varda is like a natural disaster -
once you unleash her, there’s no telling what she’ll destroy.  I should
have finished her years ago.   Donal knew why he didn’t have her
killed, though.  After the failed attempt on her life, which instead took
the life of her young brother, the Hierarch felt it would draw too much
attention to try again.  Her death might have led to too many questions -
and it was possible that too much attention would have been drawn to him - and the
great plan to find Hrasks mate might have been put in jeopardy.   So,
she had lived.

The question is what do I do with her now?  Have her
killed?   That worked so well the last time I tried.  I don’t
even know where she’s got this awoken dreamer stashed!   Maybe it
would be best to allow her to leave, and bring the dreamer here to Saint
Jillian’s - and then deal with all of them at once?   The
Hierarch’s musings were cut short as he crossed the parade ground separating
the Cathedral of Three Moons from the rather luxurious housing provided for the
Hierarchs when they were in residence.

I need to nip this in the bud - I have to find out if what Maeve said was
true...  If so, then perhaps all is not lost.  I can continue the
Great Work where Vargas failed; it’s riskier than I had hoped - but the reward
will be well worth it.  Then I will have to bend my knee to no one save
Hrask himself!   Donal reached his apartment, and was hailed by
the two guards who watched the courtyard where the Hierarchs had their
residences.

“Your Grace,” one of the guards said.  “A messenger from the north arrived
while you were in council.  “He was dirty from travel, but he said his
news was urgent.  He carried your seal, so we allowed him inside.”

“You did well - thank you.”  Donal said to the pair of guards.  “See
that the Sergeant gives you each a gold knight for your trouble - and your
discretion - at the end of your shift.”   News!  It had
better be good!   His face brightened a bit.  It could
hardly be much worse.

The guards smiled at the compliment and the reward - a gold knight was worth a
week’s pay!  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

The Hierarch waved a dismissal at them, and entered his residence.  As he
entered, a page came and took his coat, and within a few moments he was headed
to his private chambers where his messenger guest’ awaited.  The hall he
walked through was decorated in fine woods - costly burnished bronze wood from
Laeron, polished so smooth it reflected his image as he walked down the
passage.  The stone floor was tiled in beautiful ceramic tiles from
Iranor, glazed and painted each by hand.   Crystal lamps hung from
the rafters, lending both light and a sense of opulence to the decor.
Everywhere he looked, there were small cabinets or end tables, each bearing
small decorations - statues, religious icons, fresh flowers, or censers of
incense and fine perfumes.

He passed all this opulence with little more than passing notice - it was
something he had become used to, at the height of power he had reached.
The wealth and the ornaments were mere trappings of power - a pleasant side
effect, rather than the main point of having said power.  No, he
thought.  The reason I wanted power was to gain control.  To make
all these mewling weaklings realize that they need to bend their knee to me,
and not the other way around.   It will be sweet to see the Muireanne
and Fireannor kneel before me - before their heads are hewn from their bodies.

As Donal entered his office, he saw a hooded and cloaked man across the
room.  His back was to the Hierarch, but he seemed unarmed save for a
dagger.   Donal recognized one of Lucas’s men, and turned to seal the
door.   It must be important for one of Lucas’ brethren to come
here, in daylight.  He must have worn a magical disguise - the guards
would never have let him in otherwise.

Donal turned and spoke a Word of binding, to seal the door shut - now they
would not be disturbed.   “What did you find?  What news from
the north?”   The Hierarch aimed his question at the guest across the
room.  “The door is sealed - you may speak.”

The Fallen turned, and bowed deeply before Donal.  “Master, I bring news
of a disaster.  The House of Broken Dreams lies in ashes - and Mistress
Awai, and all of the Dreamers are slain.   My brother and I watched
from afar, as you directed us to.   When we saw the House go up in
flames, we knew disaster had struck.  Once the fires died down, we were
able to retrieve Vargas, who was seriously injured, and brought him immediately
back here to you...  He awaits you outside the city, should you have
further need to speak with him.”

“Thank you...  What was your human name, before you turned?  Lucas
spoke of you, yet never named you to me.”

“I was Flavius, your Grace.  My brother was Gaius.  We hailed from
Madragoor.”

“I see.  Before you left for Ogden-town, did Lucas give you a way to
contact his other operatives?  They might be doing something that
jeopardizes the Great Work, and I need to stop them.”

“Gaius has a powerful talent for the Sight, your Grace.  He can contact
them.  What would you have him tell the others?”   The Fallen
looked eager to please.

“Tell them to kill the woodsman, but to leave any women with him alive.
Alive - do you understand?  They are more important than anything.
They are to be unharmed.   Maeve needs to be stripped of some of her
allies.”

“At your command, your Grace.  I will see to it immediately!”

“Thank you, Flavius.  Await further orders outside the city with your
brother.  I believe I will need your services quite soon.”

“Yes, your Grace.”   Flavius bowed again, then cast a spell - and the
scaled reptilian visage of a Fallen was replaced with what appeared to be a
normal adult human man in his thirties.   “We will await your
orders.  This world is Hrask’s!”   With that, Flavius left the
chamber.

Resealing the door, Hierarch Blaine studied the seeing-stone.  It’s
pretty badly damaged... it might not have anything to reveal.  I guess
I’ll have to see.   First things first, though, he said, shedding
his religious outer garments for a more comfortable and relaxing robe left in
here for just this purpose.

Then Donal headed to the desk, and activated a cunning combination lock from
underneath one of the drawers, and a secret panel opened on the side of the
desk.   The hierarch reached down and opened it, withdrawing a small
velvet pouch, then closed the secret panel.  It was so well hidden, there
was not a single trace of it to be seen.   Emptying the pouch into
his hand, he deposited a duplicate of the ring that had made such a stir in the
council chambers several hours ago.  If they only knew.  He
thought.  That I’ve been under their noses all this time - and they’ve
been so blind they don’t even suspect it.   It makes our eventual
triumph all the sweeter, the fact that they’re unawares.

Donning the Black Ring always made him feel in control - safe.  The wards
and spells on the ring itself protected it from common detection spells - but
the wards it projected about its wearer had saved his life more than once in
the last two and a half decades.  He concentrated and entered his Nairya,
and allowed the Sight to overcome his normal vision.  As the silvery sheen
of his magesight fell across his field of vision, he noticed the lingering
auras of magical energy clinging to the seeing stone.  One signature was
obviously Maeve’s - but the other was unfamiliar... It had the taint of demonic
energy.  Could the fool have tried to summon a second demon?
Blaine thought.   He knows how hard demons are to control - he
must have felt it worth the risk.

Ignoring the lingering aura’s for now, Hierarch Blaine settled down at his desk
to probe the crystal of the seeing-stone.  What secrets do you hold?
He mused.  Show me.   His mental probe slid deeper into
the crystal - he could feel where the memories and images it had captured lay
stored...  Within a few seconds, he had reached them - and all that Vargas
Elm had seen or been present for, for the last three days, washed over him.

It washed over him like a torrent of water - a montage of sights and images
that threatened to drown out his waking thoughts.  It was a confusing
jumble at first - but slowly he was able to make out scenes, images - and see
what had happened.  There was sound at times, but both the image and the
sound provided by the speaking-stone were distorted - perhaps by the damage the
stone had suffered in the fire that destroyed the House of Broken
Dreams.   Still, there was enough to verify everything that Maeve had
said about what had happened - and more.

The fool!  Blaine thought.  Promising what he
did to avenge Awai was the act of an idiot!   Blaine had warned
Vargas of the dangers of becoming emotional, too attached to other
people.  It was a failing Donal did not suffer from, himself.   And
now he has sold himself to the demons for what?  Good riddance, if that’s
all he could think about.  We’re better off without him.

Maeve was right.  This Dreamer - Eric, or Erica - whatever she calls
herself, could be the key to everything.  I need her here,
soon.   How in the seven hells can I get her here faster than the two
weeks minimum it would take Maeve to go fetch her?   He thought
about it for a while, then realized there was a much easier way.   Maeve
likes to flaunt tradition.  She likes to take risks.  Let’s tell her
to use the Moongate in Arathel to speed her travels.  She might even like
that.   I can always explain my allowing her to use them as being
necessary to reduce the time the Dreamer was at risk of being captured or
misused.  Yes... that sounds appropriate.    Donal took
a parchment from his writing desk and began to pen orders to Maeve - official
orders to use the Moongate to bring Erica the dreamer back to Arathel as
quickly as possible.   And if her henchman Kai is already dead,
then so much the better!

By the time he was finished penning the orders for Maeve, Hierarch Donal Blaine
was in a much better mood; by the time he hid his ring and gave the letter to
his page, he was humming.  This should work out everything.

*
*          *

The next thing Maeve was aware of was knocking on her apartment door.
Groaning, she pushed herself upright, and looked about.   She was in
her bedroom, partially undressed and partially covered by a thick feather duvet
given to her years ago by her mother.  She could feel the grit of sleep in
her eyes, and her hair was hanging mussed in her face.  A quick glance at
the window showed it was dark - but Maeve couldn’t tell if night had just
recently fallen, or if she had slept for hours into the night.
“Just a minute!”  She called.   “Give me a
moment!”

Maeve stood and swept the hair from her eyes, and quickly made herself
presentable, then went to the door.  Her apartment was dusty and smelled a
bit stale.  Which I suppose, is as it should be, considering no one has
been here in about a month.  A few strides took her to the door to her
apartment, and a quick motion palmed her dagger in her left hand.
She fell into her Nairya out of habit, and spoke a Word of Sight.  No
spells, nor magic waiting.  Not much chance of an ambush.  Good.
“Who is it?”  Maeve asked.  “You woke me... what do you want?”

The familiar voice of her neighbor Tamara echoed back.  “It’s me, Maeve -
Tamara.  Your neighbor...  You asked me to wake you around dusk.
Do you not remember?”   Tamara seemed a bit cautious - but perhaps
that was because she knew how paranoid and dangerous Maeve could be.
Maeve had once saved her from two street thugs - she knew how dangerous Maeve
could be.

Maeve thought for a moment, and realized she did dimly remember thrusting a
gold coin into Tamara’s hands, and telling her there would be another if she
would wake her at dusk...  Goddess, I must have been half asleep on my
feet.   Still, I feel much better now.  A few more hours might
be good, but Kai might not be able to wait that long.   She let
the Sight drop, and opened the door a bit, but didn’t put the knife away just
yet.  Just in case...

“Yeah, I remember now that you mention it.  Sorry - I must have been really
out of it.”  Maeve said, seeing relief wash across Tamara’s face.
“My last job was a real killer.   Thanks for waking me.”

“You’re welcome.”  Tamara said.  “Oh, while you were asleep, a
messenger came from the Cathedral.  He had a message but he couldn’t wake
you - he pounded and pounded - I thought he was going to break the door
down...   I told him I was supposed to wake you, and he gave me a
letter, and demanded I give it to you as soon as I saw you.”   Tamara
looked very impressed as she handed Maeve the letter, which bore the seal of
the Council of Hierarchs.

What in the seven hells do they want now?  Maeve thought.  Probably
more questions.  Another go around at the We don’t believe Maeve
parade?  How about the Lets ask a question Maeve’s answered eleven times
already discussion?    Maeve groaned and cracked the seal,
and unfolded the parchment in one easy motion.   Scanning the
document was quick and simple - the orders sent to her were concise and to the
point.  And confusing as hell.  Maeve thought.  Hierarch
Blaine wants me to take a Moongate to fetch Erica, Christine and
Kai?   What kind of game is he playing?

“Thanks for bringing me this, Tamara.  Let me get you that gold coin,
okay?”  Maeve’s mind was whirling as she sheathed her knife and fished for
the promised coin.   The only reason I can think of is that he
wants them here as soon as possible - to be closer, so it’s easier to control
who has access to Erica and Christine.   But if that’s the case, why
send assassins after them?    Maeve thought about the
timeline of events, and realized she already had the answer.  The
assassins were sent before he knew he needed Erica... he wants me to save her
from the assassins he sent!

Maeve found the coin, and held it out to Tamara.  “Thanks again, Tamara.”

“You’re welcome, Maeve.  I was glad to help - and you know I can use the
money.  Little Suri is always hungry, after all.”

“I know.  Go, be with Suri.  I have to get ready to leave again
anyway.  When the Hierarchs call, the commonfolk can do naught but scurry
- am I right?”  Suri was Tamara’s young year and a half old daughter;
Tamara taught dance lessons to pay the bills, but sometimes that wasn’t
enough.  Things had been hard for her and Suri after her boyfriend, Fionn
had left her, left town, and left a large number of creditors in his
wake.   Maeve had spent several nights talking with Tamara about
Fionn and how Tamara was better off without him.   He was a deadbeat
- and he was on Maeve’s ‘list’ - for another day.

Tamara laughed.  “Mayhap, Maeve... but you are far from common-folk, even
if you are of common birth.  Do not put yourself down.  And thank you.”

Maeve shut the door, and finished making herself presentable, then gathered her
gear to travel as quickly as she could.   The Moongate was in the
temple complex housing the Cathedral of Three Moons, but not within the
Cathedral itself - and the nearest Moongate to Wethom was in the wilds perhaps
a day or so west of Kai’s cabin, on the Rillian border.   Well,
it’s not like the Elves and I don’t have a history... like everyone else I’ve
ever dealt with.  Maybe I should get better at making friends?

As Maeve scurried about her apartment gathering her gear, which she had
apparently scattered all over the place in a rough path from the front door to
her bedroom, she took a look around.  Her apartment was pretty nice, all
things considered.  It was clean and in good repair, with modest but good
furnishings.  She had a few trophies of her adventures on cabinets and
shelves - in one bookcase she had a collection of rare books from Iranor, while
on another shelf she had a Erinori, a rare treasure given to her by the
Travellers - a gypsy people who used to sail the oceans, but who now roamed
Mercia on wagons drawn by horses.  The Erinori were created to remind them
of the sea, for when their  homesickness became too great.  It was a
rare gift.   On another wall was a plaque holding two black powder
pistols from Madragoor - weapons she had taken from a bandit chieftain in the
wild borderlands between Valris and Madragoor.  She smiled at the memory
of those times.  I should spend more time at home - reconnect with my
Mother, and friends.  Maybe I spend too much time on the road,
working.  I can’t spend all my days nearly dying in dangerous places.
Goddess!  How far did I scatter my things?

Soon the task was complete, and Maeve was ready to go.  As she locked up
the apartment tight, she gave it one last look.   I think I might
need some time off.  I need to pray - I need to seek forgiveness, for
Nile.  For myself.   With the door locked up tight, Maeve
turned away, and headed out into the city.

Being in Arathel always made her feel better.  The lights and sounds, the
bustle and the controlled confusion always had suited her better than Kai’s
favorite places.  He preferred the majestic and serene grace of the wilds,
where a person could go for days without speaking - just taking in the grandeur
of nature.   It drove Maeve to distraction.   But hey,
she thought.  If I didn’t keep up a conversation with him when we
travel, he might have his language skills atrophy.   I wonder how we
became such good friends, with us being so different.

Maeve walked through the streets of Arathel quickly - she was quite refreshed,
and didn’t feel fatigued enough to need to hire a coach, nor was she so distant
from the religious quarter that she felt it was warranted.   A brisk
twenty minute walk brought her to the temple complex housing the cathedral -
the guards knew her well, and knew whom she served.  They let her pass
without even a word of challenge.  One even nodded his head in greeting to
her.

The Moongate in Arathel took the form of a great portal, over fifteen feet in
height, and about ten feet in width.  Its frame and arches were carved
from a rare white stone whose name escaped Maeve at the moment - she knew it
was used in magical constructions, but couldn’t remember its actual
name.   Its surface was carved with stylized designs that looked like
art to the untrained eye - but to someone who knew some of the moongate’s
secrets, was actually a guide on how to use the gate, and target its point of
arrival.   There were eleven moongates in Valris - Maeve didn’t know
of any others in other lands, but supposed there could be a possibility.

Hierarch Lisker had taught Maeve to use the moongates about five years ago, but
warned her against using them except in dire need.  The Hierarch said his
forbears had warned him that the fey had learned how to infiltrate the
moongates, and were making travel with them precarious at best.  It seemed
the nature of their alien magic allowed them some influence over the moongates,
which made them unreliable at best, and dangerous at worst.

Maeve studied the gate, and its carvings.  I’m in luck, she
thought.  The gate is already powered and active.   Once I
choose a destination, I can be on my way.  At last, some good fortune!
The reason for her good cheer was easily explained...  A moongate is only
active for a short time each month, at night when the moons above are in
conjunction with the phase of the particular moongate, all of which were
believed to be keyed to different moon-phases.  The fact that the gate was
already active would save Maeve the exhausting task of activating it with her
magic - a slow and tiring task at the best of times.

Now all I have to do is make sure I pick the right destination - or I may
find myself in the Valorin Halls of the Dead, or Donathi’s Temple quarter,
instead of the wilds of northern Valris where I want to be.
Maeve stepped up to the moongate, and opened her mind to the Sight.  The
frame of the door, which at first appeared to be mundane carved white stone,
looked totally different to her vision when enhanced by the Sight.  The
carvings of icons and symbols - which represented places that existed at the
time the Moongates were first crafted - seemed linked by spiderweb-thin
traceries of lines and glowing auras.   The trick is to address
the gate properly, Maeve thought.   Tell it where you are,
which is easy - and where you want to go, which is considerably harder.
Maeve had only done this once before - and that time had luckily gone without
much hassle.  She hoped it would do so again.

Maeve concentrated, and forced her mind into the web-like matrix of the
moongate.  At first, the matrix fought back, pushing and shoving her
mental fingers away from its symbols and glyphs - but slowly Maeve was able to
force her mental fingers into the symbol for Arathel, and set the gate’s source
point.  The glyph for Arathel was a little gold and white feather, that
spun around on its axis at a slight angle... while the glyph for the moongate
nearest Wethom was a trio of teardrop shaped blue gemstones.   Maeve
slowly tried to connect the two symbols with the traceries of energy from the
gate, effectively making a channel - a connection - between the two
points.   It was difficult - the energy seemed ephemeral even to her
mental senses and fingers, and it took her several minutes to establish the
connection - a task that left her sweating and fatigued.

As she finished drawing the connection, the archway of the moongate filled with
a cool, misty white light which spread from the base of the arch, slowly
spreading until it reached the apex of the arch.  When the misty white
glow reached the apex, a burst of silvery light washed over the surrounding
area, lighting it almost as bright as day, if but for a moment.  Maeve
could hear cries of surprise and alarm from people in nearby buildings.  Looks
like it’s time to go...  I’m coming Kai!   Maeve stepped
into the arch, and light flashed, sending a beam of silver light high into the
night sky.  When the light cleared, Maeve was gone.

Chapter 20 - Church Sermons

Erica stalked sort-of quietly through the woods, still struggling to keep twigs
and brittle creepers from snagging the wool of her skirt or strands of her
hair.  Walking without stepping on all these damn twigs isn’t exactly
easy, either, she thought.  We’re in a forest - its bloody well
made of twigs!  She kept going, trying to follow the trail Kai had
left for her and Christine to follow, cursing as another strand of hair got
yanked by an errant twig.  At this rate I’ll be bald before summer!
At least Christine seems to be doing better.

Christine was a few paces ahead of Erica, trying to follow the trail with
her.  She seemed to be marginally better at this - more because Erica was
still building up her strength and balance, than because of any real desire or
motivation.

To Erica, she seemed to be going through the motions, and learning the skills
because Kai expected the both of them to try - but she wasn’t in to it, like
Erica was.   Which is really frustrating, because I’m trying really
hard, and sucking just as hard.  It really stinks being so damn
weak and wobbly all the time.  At least chopping wood is helping, I
think...

“You okay back there?”  Christine asked.   “You’re making more
noise than I am for Pete’s sake.”  Christine seemed to be managing with
all the twigs and grabby dead vines better partially because her hair was much
shorter, and because she was wearing her jeans from Earth today.  The day
before, she had suffered a nasty fall and gotten so muddy as a result, she
refused to wear the woolen clothes again until they were washed - which is what
they were supposed to do when they got back to Kai’s cabin later today.

“Easy for you to say.”  Erica growled.  “At least your hair doesn’t go
down to your butt.  It’s like these stupid branches are burrs or
something.”

“You should have let me show you how to braid it or put it up.”  Christine
laughed.  “Seriously, either that or you’ll need to cut it off or
something.”

Erica considered for a moment whether it would be worth it to just hack the
long hair off, but decided against it.   It takes so long for hair
to grow, I don’t want to do something I’ll regret later.  It’s a pain,
sure - but I might want it longer once I get used to it - and I can always cut
it short later if I decide against it.   “Maybe you’re
right.”  She admitted.  “But I still think we lost the trail back at
the fallen log.”

Christine paused.  “I don’t think so...  See that mark over on the
tree - that looks like one of Kai’s marks.  I think we’re still on the
right trail.”   Christine pointed over at a tall ballnut tree that
had a small ‘x’ cut into its outer bark.   “Let’s look for the next
marker.”

Erica grunted, and yanked the hank of her hair stuck on a twig free, and
climbed the small rise to where Christine stood.  Looking around, she
started to see the first signs of what must pass for spring here in
Mercia.   The snow on the ground was light - perhaps one or two
centimetres, and melting fairly quickly.  The last few days had had light
fog in the morning - probably due to the warming weather mixing with the
remaining snow on the ground.

What’s amazing is how few footprints Kai can leave on this muddy
ground.  We’ve been wandering around out here for an hour, and still
haven’t found him.   Erica scowled.  Kai had been teaching
the two of them woodcraft by example - and they needed to find the end of the
trail before noon or they would have to endure another lecture on being one
with the forest - which drove Christine batty.   Erica didn’t mind
hearing it at all again - it kind of made her feel like she was in Avatar,
learning about the forest - minus the giant blue cat people and space
marines.  What she did mind was Christine’s whinging about it.  It
wasn’t quite whining - but only just, and it was getting tiresome.   I
get it... You don’t want to be here, and I’m sorry about that, but whining
isn’t going to get us home any faster for gods sake!

Erica scanned the terrain with Christine, and a few moments later saw
something.  “I think I see something!”   Erica walked over to a
few bent blades of grass poking up through the snow; the snow itself had been
disturbed, but there were no footprints.  “I think he came this way - some
grass is bent, and He’s tried to cover his tracks a bit.”

“WOOT!”  Christine laughed.  “Way to go, Erica!  We can’t be far
now!”   The two followed the trail left by Kai for several more
minutes - and came to the edge of a small clearing, where they saw Kai, quietly
plucking a partridge.

“We finally found you!”  Erica laughed.  “Are we doing any
better?”

Kai looked up and smiled.  “Indeed you are - both of you.  You were
markedly faster this time - you’re both improving.”   He gathered up
the partridge feathers into a small bag, and picked up the partially plucked
bird.  “We should head back.  As good as the day has been, I smell
the touch of rain in the air, and there’s no need for us to get soaked without
cause.  Besides, we can put the time to good use with more language
lessons.”  He waited for Christine’s expected groaning - but was surprised
when it didn’t come.

“Not groaning, Christine?   I thought you hated learning Valdan.
You usually complain about it more.”  Kai asked, half expecting Christine
to become angry for assuming she’s whinge.

“I don’t know... I’m still not keen on it, but at least I’m picking up some of
it faster than I was.”  Christine looked a little nonplussed about
it.  “In fact, I don’t think I should be picking up on it this
fast...  It took me four years of French lessons and a year in
french-immersion to get even partially fluent.”  It really is weird.

“Well, I don’t know what French is - other than one of your worlds languages -
but from what you’ve said its not the easiest to learn.  I think what you
might be experiencing is from the secondary effects of the Translation amulet.”

“Secondary effects?”  Erica said.  “Are we going to get brain cancer
from them?”

“Erica!”  Christine snorted.  “Brain cancer!  Really?!”

Kai laughed.  “No brain cancer, I promise.   Maeve and I didn’t
mention the secondary effects of the amulets before now because, well, it
wasn’t important at the time.  I suppose now it is?  What you may not
have known is that the translation amulets help your brain learn a language by
enhancing its ability to assimilate words, accents, and so on.  With powerful
amulets, like the ones Anvi let us borrow, wearing one for a month or so is
almost as good for learning a language as living in the society speaking it for
a year.   That’s why they’re so valuable - and why Anvi wants them
back as soon as possible.  They cost a bloody fortune.”

“How much is that?  Are we wearing enough to buy a house on our
necks?  Or is it more - or less?”  Christine asked.

“If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say the each of those amulets is worth enough
to buy a luxurious six to eight-bedroom mansion with a huge yard in Arathel or
Orovar’s upper city - which is quite a lot of money.  One could probably
buy any three or four houses in Wethom, if you were to get even value, for one
of those amulets.”

“Holy shit!”  Christine exclaimed.  “That is a lot.”  I’m
going to have to be REALLY careful with this thing.   Losing it would
put Maeve or Kai into hock for the rest of their life maybe.  If they
didn’t try to take it out on me...

“Yeah, wow.  That’s a huge amount of money.  Anvi must really trust
Maeve.”  Erica looked a little stunned by the amount of money...  Her
father Anders had always been wealthy, but he as Eric had only really benefited
from it when he was young - before he really knew how much money was
worth.  Since he was fifteen or so, he’d been living hand to mouth on the
street, so he knew how much money that really was - and how lavish and risky a
favor Anvi had done for Maeve.

“It’s more a matter of debts.”  Kai said as they walked through the woods
towards his cabin.  “They met years ago, on a battlefield in
Madragoor.  Anvi was working as a battlefield medic in the Madragan wars -
he was with the armies of the First magnate, and Maeve was doing her usual shit
disturbing.  Things went to hell, as they usually did - and in the chaos,
Maeve saved Anvi’s life - and introduce him to Maria.  The rest is
history, as they say - and although Maeve may collect on favors quite often,
she repays them just as quickly - and often with extra.  I guess she
figures that she may need to collect again, one day so it’s wise to pay
forward, after a fashion.”

They walked for a while in silence, while Christine and Erica tried to process
what Kai had said.  It was obvious Maeve knew a lot of people, and a lot
of people owed her favors.  I wonder how many people she’s tried to
help before?  Thought Christine.  And how many of those
survived to owe her a favor, and how many did not?   “Do things
usually get messy when Maeve gets involved?”

Kai frowned.  “When you put it like that, it makes it sound like she’s
incompetent or trying to cause chaos...  She usually does what she has to
do, then gets out – it’s just sometimes she stumbles onto things that are well,
bigger than expected - so when she does what she has to do, it tends to get
messy.”

Any further conversation was forestalled by the trio arriving back at Kai’s
cabin.  “Let’s get settled inside - this bird won’t pluck itself, and you
two can practice speaking while I finish it off.   Erica, could you
put a pot of water on?”

“Sure.”  Erica wiped the mud off her boots and got the heavy kettle in
both hands, and started lifting it to the fire.  They had left a large
amount of snow in it earlier to melt - and it seemed to have done just that
while they were out.   With the snow mostly melted, I guess we’re
going to have to get water from the well soon.  Erica wasn’t looking
forward to cranking up water by the bucket - her arms ached enough chopping
wood - but she looked forward to carrying water from a creek a whole lot less.

Christine cleaned off her boots as well, and went to sit down.  The air
smelled like fresh bread - it always did lately - and it reminded her of
visiting her Aunt Millicent before she passed away; it always smelled like
fresh baking.   Funny, my house hasn’t smelled like that ever -
and yet it’s the same house Aunt Millie lived in.  Maybe I should have
spent more time enjoying time in the house, instead of working?  I used to
like baking... I wonder what happened?   She snorted.  Work
happened - the daily routine took up twelve hours of her day - followed by her
coming home and collapsing in front of the TV, with a microwave dinner in the
oven.   Was my life always so bland and boring?  It made
Christine feel kind of homesick.

Erica got the huge kettle over to the hearth and started warming, and then came
over and sat by Christine.  “So what are we learning today?”

Kai threw his coat on a peg, and sat down on a chair across from the two women;
the partially plucked bird on a small table beside it.  “I was thinking
I’d get you both to recite some words, and use them in simple sentences if you
can.  If that goes well, we’ll see if we can graduate up to a short
conversation or better.  Loser makes dinner.”  He started plucking
the partridge, while waiting for the two women to remove their magical
amulets.

This time Christine groaned...

*
*          *

Later that evening,  Erica and Kai were washing up the dinner dishes -
Christine made dinner so it seemed only fair.   The soapy water was
fairly hot, and Erica’s hands looked red from the heat.  Christine watched
the two toil over the dishes - enjoying the break while Kai struggled to keep
up the pace at drying Erica was setting at washing.   It’s nice to
see them busting their ass for a change, Christine thought.

Of course, there’s that other problem I’ve been putting off.
Christine thought.  Mother nature sucks sometimes.  “Umm
Kai?  I know you’re probably not the right person to ask this, but Maeve’s
not here right now...  What do women use to umm... keep clean during their
period - when they bleed - here?”

“Ewww!  Christine!”  Erica said, making a face.

Christine looked exasperated with Erica.  “Don’t ewww me, missy - unless
there’s something wrong with you, you’re going to have a period soon too, you
know!   And although that’s officially the strangest thing I’ve ever
said about my BFF’s little brother, I still need to know what to use.”
Erica looked kind of green at Christine’s admonishment, as she realized what
she was in for.

Kai blushed red all the way to his ears, and stammered out a response to Christine.
“I um... I don’t know.  My sister had some things in her room, but I
think... um... you’d want to get your own... uh...umm.”  Kai looked more
than a bit uncomfortable.  “I’m sorry - I’m not used to talking about such
things.  Cinny didn’t talk to me about that stuff much.”

“I take it Cinny is your sister?”  Christine said.  “Which room is
hers?”

Kai went from embarrassed, to somber.  “Erica’s room was... Cinny died
three and a half years ago.”

Erica and Christine both looked shocked and appalled.  “I’m so sorry
Kai.”  Christine said.  “I didn’t mean to bring up bad
memories.”  Erica looked like she felt exactly the same way.

“No... It’s okay.”  Kai said.  “It was a long time ago.  I’m...
I’m not really ready to talk about it.  The cedar chest in Erica’s room
has some of her clothes and personal stuff - I couldn’t bear to go through it
after she died, and since then its just stayed there.”  Kai looked like he
was remembering whatever happened to his sister - he looked somber and sad.

Kai stood in thought for a while, while Erica finished up the dishes.
Erica gave his hand a squeeze, and went to sit down.   Christine
looked a bit uncomfortable for bringing up such an unexpectedly unwelcome
topic.

Whatever Kai was mulling over, he snapped out of it.  “I was going to
mention we needed to get to bed early so we can make the trip to Wethom
tomorrow...  This just means we have another reason to go.”  He smiled
a little sadly at Erica and Christine.  “Don’t be upset - you couldn’t
have known about my sister.”

“Why were we going to town tomorrow?”  Erica asked.

“For church, originally, and then the town market afterwards.  Now I guess
we’ll need to stop by Genna Hateger’s shop as well - she’s a herbalist.
She should know what you need.”   He paused a moment.  “I know
what I’m about to ask is not really in my nature, but do you think we should
try to keep a low profile?  Until Maeve gets back and tells us what’s going
on with the Hierarchs?”

“I don’t know.”  Said Erica.  “How do we keep a low profile?
Wear hooded cloaks into church?   Maybe we should just stay home and
not go.”

“Absolutely not.”  Kai said.  He looked shocked, and a bit angry -
like he had been seriously offended.  “If you’re staying here, then you’re
going to church with me.  Period.”

“Whoa!  We didn’t say we wouldn’t go - we just asked if it was an option
to stay home.”

Christine
said, trying to mollify Kai.   “I didn’t know it was such a big thing
for you.”

“Of course it’s a big thing - it’s a big thing for everybody.  Don’t you
have your own gods, back on your world?  Don’t you worship them?”
Kai was still a bit incensed, but less so as he started to realize this was
probably another one of those ‘we’re from different places with different
customs’ sort of things.

It was Christine’s turn to be a bit embarrassed - and guilty.   I
can’t think of the last time I went to Mass.  She thought.  Its
been months - maybe even a year.   It’s been difficult going to
church, when my job exhausts me so much, all I want to do is lie in bed and
sleep in.   I believe in God - I guess I just figured I’d have time
for Him later...  “We do worship our Gods - but obviously not as fervently
as Valdan’s do theirs.   You know how we seemed surprised that your
Gods bestow powers and miracles on the faithful - well they don’t back
home.   They haven’t for a very long time - and I think because of
that, a lot of people have fallen away from their faith, if they even had it to
begin with.  When you combine that with a government that actively tries
to exclude faith from governance, you start to get a picture of our people.”

“It sounds like a people who have lost their way.”  Kai said.  “I
don’t know anything about your homeland, I’ll give you that - but I think
people need something larger than themselves to believe in - something that is
eternal, and which cares for them.   If they don’t have that, then
what is the point in anything?   We need to know there is someone
there watching over us... Why?  I don’t know - perhaps it goes back to
when we were children, and our parents were there to tuck us in to bed at
night... So we would feel safe, and loved - and not alone.   I think
that’s important to humanity.  Important enough not to throw it away
because the government says it’s inconvenient...  Maybe you should get a
better government?”

“I think you’re right, Kai - and I think that’s a skewed image of North
America, Christine.  A lot of people in North America are religious - and
they practice it all the time - but I think it’s more accurate to say a large
number of people are agnostic or atheist - rather than the majority, which was
how I kind of took your statement.”  Erica chipped in.  “I know my
mom took me to church most sundays - and my dad almost never came; he was
always too busy with other things.  I think it depends on the individual.”

“That’s well and good, I suppose.”  Kai said.  “But I expect you to
come with me tomorrow, and take part in the service.  You don’t have to
pray if you don’t want to - but it’s an important part of our life here in
Valris, and I intend to be there.   And since I need to keep an eye
on you both, you need to be there too.”

Christine nodded.  “I never said I wouldn’t go, Kai.  I’m sure that
Erica and I will find it very interesting at the very least.”

“I know I’m interested in learning more about ... umm... Isundal and Askeline
and the Twins?   I mean, I think I met one of them when I died.
I’d like to know more.”  Erica said.  “Did I forget any of them?”

Kai smiled.  “No, Erica - you got them all.  The Twins are Feana and
Hathor, but there are other gods and goddesses Mercians hold dear as well - but
those four are the ones Valdans hold most dear.  Madragans hold Morian and
Miyaga dear, while Adinor and Erinor watch over all of nature, and are
venerated by farmers and fishermen alike.  The Dark Three and their
worshippers plague all the people of Mercia - Hrask, Lady Delirium, and The
Dark One; only criminals, zealots and madmen follow the Three.”

“Umm... that’s a lot to take in at once.”  Erica said.  “I’m probably
not going to remember all of those names.  You won’t be mad if I don’t,
will you?”

“Haha... no, I won’t be mad.  I expect if you tried to roll off a dozen
names of the Gods of your homeland, I’d be just as lost.  Try not to lose
any sleep over it.”

Christine stood up, and stretched, yawning.  “Well if we’re going to get
up early, I need to kidnap Erica for a bit!”

Erica looked a bit confused.  “Me?  Why?”

“Swimming lessons, of course!”

“What!?  Okay - I’m confused.”  Erica shrugged.  “I’m coming,
but I don’t know what you mean.”  Erica got up, and followed Christine,
who had headed into Erica’s room.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to swim or whatever you plan on doing.”  Kai
said.  “Just try to get enough sleep to be up early - we’ll need to clean
up before we go, and we’ll have a bit of a walk since the horse can’t carry all
three of us.  I’m off to bed - goodnight you two.”

“Good night!”  Erica called out, followed by Christine as well.

Erica came into her room, to see Christine going through a cedar chest.  I
guess this was Cinny’s room.  I didn’t know.  “Hey Christine...
whatcha doing?  Is that Cinny’s stuff?”  She went and sat on her bed
- there wasn’t enough room in the small bedroom to get them both over near the
cedar chest - it was tucked into a corner behind a chair.

“Looking to see what, if anything, they might have used for tampons or sanitary
napkins.”

“I don’t know about you, but that’s not the sort of thing I think women put in
a cedar chest, is it?”  Erica asked.  “It sounds like something
they’d put in their dresser where they could get at it when they need it,
right?”

Christine sighed.  “Yeah, you’re probably right, Erica.  Still, I’m
going to finish looking.”   Christine pulled out a duo of thick, warm
looking sweaters, a fancy white dress covered with elaborate stitching and
embroidery with matching shoes, another dress - slightly less fancy, and done
in green silk and velvet, a plush bathrobe, and some scarves, mitts, and other
miscellaneous clothing bibs and bobs.  “I think you’re right - none of
this stuff looks like what we’ll need.  I guess we’ll have to wait until
we get to town.”

“So what’s this about swimming lessons then?”  Erica asked.

“Remember a few days ago, when you said you felt like you’d been thrown into
the deep end of the pool, and didn’t know how to swim...  I didn’t want to
bring it up with Kai there, in case you were embarrassed, but I thought you
might need to start learning some basic stuff.”  If this is getting
weird for me, I wonder how its getting for him... I mean her.

“Uhh... are you saying what I think you’re saying?  Because if you are,
I... I am a little embarrassed talking about it.”   That’s putting
it mildly.  Erica thought.  But I’m really grateful I’m
getting it.  There’s so much I don’t know.

“Me too, kiddo.  Me too.”  Christine exhaled through tense lips,
looking like she was psyching herself up.  “Okay - I’m not sure where to
start, so I’ll tell you what my mom told me when I started puberty...
Feel free to ask questions, if you have any - I can’t promise I have all the
answers, but I’ll try to answer what I can, okay?”

Erica gulped and nodded... It was going to be a long night.

*
*          *

By mid-morning the next day, Kai, Christine and Erica were well on their way
back to Wethom.  Kai was dressed in what seemed to the others his Sunday
best - a green and black woolen kilt, with a fox-fur sporran topped with silver
buttons, a grey wool shirt topped with a sash to match the kilt, and a broad
leather belt with an ornate silver buckle.  Kai’s sash had a beautiful
silver brooch on it, whose design matched the belt-buckle.  He even
polished his leather boots that morning - the scuff marks of heavy travel were
much reduced to the point of hardly being noticeable.

He looks halfway presentable, thought Christine.  Even if he
kind of looks like he walked off the set of Braveheart.   Erica
and I don’t look half as nice - whichiIsn’t surprising, considering our limited
means.  Still, we shouldn’t embarrass him...  Christine didn’t
think they would - she and Erica had each bathed that morning before Kai had
risen, and done their best at washing and drying their hair with what was
available.  Combined with about a half hour of brushing Erica’s hair, and
another half hour dressing neatly in the best outfits they had, they should
look at least presentable.   Christine had a red woolen skirt and
jacket, and a nice white linen top decorated with some embroidery.  Erica
had a purple skirt and jacket, with a similar top as well, topped by a grey
cloak - she found the cold more troublesome than Christine did.

They had been walking about two and a half hours and Erica was getting
fatigued.  Christine and Kai didn’t show much sign of tiredness, but Erica
was really feeling it - and didn’t want to complain about her
discomfort.   Dammit, my leg muscles haven’t regained as much
strength as I would hope. Erica thought.  Then again, I don’t know
how long my body was asleep as a dreamer.  I suppose I’m lucky I can walk
without help at all!   Don’t people in comas lose their ability to do
a lot of things?   I guess I should thank Seleni for healing me
enough to move...it really is a miracle!

Erica didn’t really know what to think about her miracle - she was glad at
being alive, and glad to be in the body she was in - but like Kai said a few
days ago, she wasn’t sure why the goddess hadn’t just healed her old body instead.
The entire situation was unsettling and awe-inspiring at the same time.
Erica felt honoured, to be sure - but also worried.  How are you
supposed to react when a deity visits a divine miracle on you?
Pray?  Would she be offended, since I’m not part of her flock?  Why
did she help me, instead of someone else?  What makes me worthy of all
this? What would God think back home if I thanked her - would I be pissing Him
off?  This is really a messed up situation.

She was so lost in her thoughts, that when they came within sight of Wethom,
she didn’t notice until Christine gently shook her shoulder.  “We’re
almost there kiddo - we can take a break in a minute.”

Kai gave Erica a quick glance as well.  She’s been trying really hard
to keep up.  It must be exhausting!   I was planning on at least
one break as soon as she asked, but she made it all the way here without one.
Kai was impressed.   “There a few benches near the fountain in the
town square - we could rest there for a few moments before church, if you like.
My feet are getting a bit tired, frankly.”

“That would be great.”  Erica said with some relief.  She was tired
and a quick rest would help a great deal.

As the trio approached the Tree gate of Wethom, they could see a collection of
people and horse-drawn carts by the gate waiting for admittance.  The
guards were doing as they usually did - making sure the people entering the
town weren’t scruffy bandits, and collecting the gate taxes.  The people
outside the gate seemed mostly like farmers and their wives and children, or
the odd trapper and huntsman - although none dressed so nicely as Kai.

One of the huntsmen called out to Kai, “Well met, Kai - it’s been a
while.  I see you’re back from haring around the countryside with that
Maeve character... and with two lovely young ladies to boot.   Care
to introduce me?”   He was a handsome sort - in his early twenties
with a mop of unruly black hair that he had attempted to comb neatly, and a
roguish grin that had assuredly won over the ladies in the past.

Kai laughed.  “This incorrigible charmer is Baird Candlow.  His
profession is getting into trouble, and his hobby is hunting, when he gets
around to it.   Baird, these lovely ladies are Christine and Erica.
They’re staying with me until Maeve gets back from Arathel.  They’re...
not from around here.”  Kai’s tone, although mostly affable, had an edge
to it that seemed to warn Baird off.

“Well it’s a pleasure!”  Baird stepped up and bowed gently to Christine,
and then to Erica.  He took Erica’s hand and brushed his lips across its
back - and did the same with Christine.   Erica blushed red as her
hair - and Baird was pleased to note that Christine did a good impression of
being a bit flustered as well.

Kai stepped between Baird and Christine.  “That’s enough, Baird - we’ve
been hiking a long while, and Erica is exhausted.  We’re going to the
fountains to rest - if you want to keep bothering the ladies, you can follow
us.”

“He wasn’t bothering us.”  Christine said, and surprisingly she meant
it.  She wasn’t swooning, by any means - but it was kind of nice to be
treated so chivalrously, after the rustic easygoing ways of Kai this last
week.

“I would love to,” Baird said.  “But I can’t.  My mother demands I
visit with her first, since she usually can’t pin me down after her Grace’s
service is done.  If I don’t come by and play nice, I’ll have hell to
pay.”

Kai laughed.  “Your mother, Miera, has always been feisty like that -
which is good, or else she’d never keep you in line.  Go on then.”

By then the crowd had thinned, and the three of them were next at the gate.
When their turn came, Kai dug in his sporran to find the coins to pay the tax,
and soon they were through - but not before Erica noticed a fair number of the
guards had been staring at her.  Is that normal?  Do I look
alright?  Why are they staring?  She still wasn’t used to the
reaction her attractiveness had on people.

As they made their way through the streets, the entire town seemed to be
bustling.  Dozens of people dressed in fine clothes made their way towards
the center of town, along with a few beggars who had little more than rags.
Christine and Erica could see entire families cheerfully heading towards the
town center for church.  To their modern eyes, it seemed a little
odd.  Most people back home have to drag their kids kicking and screaming
to church.  Christine thought.  It’s a little weird seeing so many
people coming so eagerly.

Kai cut a path across the flow of foot-traffic and headed to a large stone
fountain at the intersection of two main streets.  The fountain was of
white stone, and at its center was a bronze statue of an armored woman bearing
a spear, mounted on a rearing horse.   Water poured from spigots at
the statues base and a large bronze plaque adorned the fountain, with
indecipherable writing upon it.

“What does the plaque say, Kai?”  Erica asked as she eagerly grabbed a
spot on a stone bench to rest her weary legs.  “I can’t read it - but I
think I almost could... its weird.”

“It’s not too surprising.  The translation amulets are teaching you how to
speak our tongue - but they’ll also slowly teach you to read our tongue as well
- assuming you can read your own language.  Not everyone here can, but you
both seem more educated than the average person here, in your own
way.   If they hold true to past experience, by the time we have to
return them, you should be able to speak and probably read and write our
language, albeit with some difficulty until you practice.”

“That’s really cool!”  Erica looked interested.  “Can the necklace do
multiple languages?”

“I don’t know.”  Kai answered.  “Depends on its strength, I
guess.  Probably - although I don’t know which tongues those necklaces in
particular are keyed to.   And to answer your previous question, the
statue above the fountain is commemorating Lady Nexter’s Ride - where Lady
Nexter, a Holy warrior of Askeline, led three hundred Valdan warriors in a
pitched battle against three times that size  of Harvon and Wolfen raiders
in the region three hundred and fifty years ago.   The raiders were
menacing Wethom, and would have burned it to the ground if not for her heroic
sacrifice and the valor of her troops.   She saved the town - and so
they honored her with this statue, so that all of us will remember her
sacrifice.”

Christine and Erica looked at the statue for a few moments, and then turned
away to watch the crowd.  More and more people were heading to the center
of town - the square they were resting in seemed to be a few blocks away from
where everyone was heading.  It looked to them like the whole town was
going to be there!   The sheer percentage of people heading to the
church baffled and surprised them both.  They could see the steeples of
the church in the distance, and could hear the toll of church bells beginning
to play.

They sat for a few moments more, before Kai stood and asked “Erica, if you’re
able, we should head over to the church.  Do you need a few more
minutes?”  Kai held out his hand to help her up, in case she was able.
“We don’t want to be late.”

Erica mulled it over a moment.  I am feeling a lot better, she
thought.  She took Kai’s hand, smiling.  “Yeah, I think I can keep
going.”  Kai helped her up, and the two stood for a moment, hands grasped
before Kai released her hand a bit nervously.

“Good.  We should get going then.”

“Agreed.”  Christine stood up, and smoothed her skirts a bit.  They
weren’t the only people in the square who were sitting near the fountains, or
heading towards the church.   He probably wants to get a decent
seat.  A valid concern if the entire damn town is going... What did he say
the population was here?  Fourteen hundred or so?   It’s going
to be packed if they all show up.

Together, the three of them crossed the street and headed towards the temple.
Reechi and Humans alike were streaming towards the church, which seemed to
Erica and Christine to be of a size comparable to a large church back home,
even if its construction seemed a little foreign - which wasn’t too
surprising.

The church itself was made of light gray stone, and seemed to be rectangular in
shape, with a large bell tower at one of the narrow ends of the
building.   The grey stone walls were broken up by exquisite
stained-glass windows whose subject matter was hard to tell from the
outside.  The bell tower was where the main entrance was located - a pair
of wide oaken doors, flanked by four warriors dressed in gleaming plate and
chain armor.  One had a green sash, one a yellow sash, and the remaining
two a blue sash.  Their swords were drawn and held at a salute, gripped in
their hands as if ready to be used.

They look like knights!  Erica thought.  “Kai, are they
expecting trouble?  Why have armed guards at the church?”
Christine looked a bit confused as well, which made Erica feel a bit better -
and less stupid.

“Huh?  No - no one’s expecting trouble.  That’s normal.”  Kai
said.  “The guards are there to defend the faithful from attack, so that
we can worship in peace.  It’s a ceremonial thing from a long, long time
ago, when all our people were slaves of the Hserinyar.  It’s to show we
won’t be taken unawares, ever again.”

“Slaves?  Of the same people that Vargas worked for?”  Christine
asked.  “I take it this is some of the non-essential stuff in your history
we haven’t really had time to learn?”

“Yes, pretty much - although I suspect if you listen today, you’ll learn a bit
more.  We’re approaching one of our holy days - Isultane, where we make
offerings to Isundal, to celebrate his triumph over Winter, and the beginning
of Spring.   In fact, I need to pick up a few things after the
ceremony to bring back with us, in case we’re on the road with Maeve when the
holiday occurs.”

“Don’t forget why else we’re here.”  Christine said politely.

Kai nodded, going red.  “I won’t.”   You can be damn sure I
won’t forget.  I thought I’d die of embarrassment when you asked about
your moon-days.  Men don’t usually speak of such things... Maeve must have
been very distracted about something to not realize she might need to speak to
you about this.  Then again, she could have just figured I’m a big boy now
and could figure it out.  I hope Maeve is okay.

As they approached the door, they say within the doors of the bell tower a pair
of priestesses wearing dark green robes with silver trim were anointing people
with a liquid on their forhead as they came in.  Erica and Christine could
hear the two, saying a short prayer over each person entering.  “May the
Twins watch over you,” and “They are your buckler and sword.”  Then it was
their turn, and the two priestesses touched their foreheads with their thumbs,
and left a daub of scented oil upon it.  It smelled of lavender.
Then they were past the priestesses, and into the hall of the church
itself.  There were stairs to an upper floor, which a few people were
taking - but most were staying on the ground floor.

The mid-morning sun was streaming through the stained-glass windows, revealing
what was at once a series of breathtakingly beautiful windows, and a series of
religious scenes which, although they seemed to have great significance to the
flock of people inside the church, didn’t mean much to Erica or Christine
yet.   The church’s floor was tiled in white ceramic tiles, and the
ceiling was high and vaulted.  Aside from the sun streaming through the
stained-glass, there were lanterns placed in the darker areas to illuminate the
chamber.   In the area where Christine and Erica expected to be an
altar, there were in fact, three altars as well as a hearth lit with a blazing
fire.   The hearth was at the exact center of the room, and all the
seats were arrayed around it - sort of like a sports stadium or a roman
amphitheatre, except that the seats were all on the same level, not elevated as
one retreated to the back of the chamber.

The priest tending the hearth was dressed in a yellow robe, and adorned with a
white sash and a mask of gold, which concealed his entire face save his mouth, which
revealed a neatly trimmed beard.  The mask was ornately carved to resemble
a sun, complete with rays radiating out from the face.   There were
also three priestesses performing some prayers at the altar - an older,
distinguished woman in a black robe with white trim, and two women who were in
their late twenties, wearing red robes trimmed with white.  The older
woman in black seemed to be in charge.

The church was bustling with people - there must have easily been several
hundred people in the church, which although not quite full to capacity, seemed
to be doing a good job of trying.  A few people were looking their way,
but neither Kai nor Erica and Christine seemed to notice as they made their way
through the aisles to find a mostly unoccupied pew.   Most of the
crowd seemed to be humans - but Christine and Erica could easily make out at
least a hundred Reechi, and possibly one or two creatures that might be the
Wolfen that Kai spoke of.  Most of the people seemed cheerful and pleasant
- aside from the usual cranky babies and distracted small children eager to go
play.

Kai apparently found the pew he was looking for, and waved the two women
over.  Erica and Christine followed quickly to find a seat.  As they
sidled down the aisle to their chosen pew, the three noticed that many of the
people sitting around them were whispering and gossiping, which was probably
normal - it was only the content of today’s gossip that was disturbing.
The murmur of the crowd talking lowly bothered Erica’s head - the background
susurrus of voices was a little too much like the voices she used to deal with
all the time on Earth, minus the creepy demon chatter.

As the three sat down, they nodded to their neighbors in the pew - two older
women on Kai’s left - probably in their late forties or early fifties, and a
young man and his girlfriend on Christine’s right.   One of the two
older ladies turned to Kai and said, “Did you hear?  They say a Dreamer
has awoken in Ogden town, just a week ago!  Do you think its true?”

Another man in the pew in front of them turned towards them, looking
assured.  “I heard its true - and that the Dreamer was a pretty
girl.  A messenger came to the Grey Minstrel while I was keeping the bar,
and claimed it was true.  Said he had to take the news to Orovar and
Arathel first thing.  I don’t expect anyone would be daft enough to lie
about something like that.”

Erica looked more than a little nervous, being the unwitting target of all this
attention, and tried to shrink into her cloak and fade from view.
It didn’t help much other than make her look shy and nervous.  Christine
didn’t say anything, but saw Erica’s nervous jitters, and gave her hand a
squeeze in support.  Kai looked just as nervous, like perhaps he was
thinking it might not have been a good idea to come to church today after all?

Maybe we should have stayed home?  Kai thought.  I never
thought the news would travel this fast - but I guess when news is this bad -
or good, depending on your viewpoint - it travels fast.  Damn it!
When he looked at Erica, he could see her trying to hide in her cloak as
well.   Great - Erica looks really frightened.
Torn with indecision, Kai tried to decide if it was worth trying to stay for the
church ceremony or not.  He gave her hand a squeeze as reassurement.

Meanwhile the two older ladies seemed to take the other man at his word, and
were busy spreading the juicy gossip to others within earshot.  Christine
could hear other people whispering about what other goings on at Ogden town as
well - especially about the traitorous Bishop Vargas Elm.   I bet
it was Sir Andred who was spreading the news - or at least was the person
responsible for hiring the messenger.  Christine thought.  He
was reacting strangely ever since Eric woke up as the dreamer girl.

Before anyone could say much more, a chorus of male and female voice sprung
into song - obviously their version of a choir.  Christine obviously
didn’t know the psalm, but everyone else seemed to, and the gossiping died
quickly as the last stragglers took their seats.   Kai and Erica
looked equally relieved at the reprieve given them by the choir.  People
started to stand, one by one, until the whole congregation was on its feet.
This lasted the length of the hymn, at which point the elder priestess in black
addressed the crowd, which judging by some of the reactions of people nearby,
was not the usual routine.

“Welcome to the Church of the Ladies of Mercy - may her blessings fall upon
you!  For those who are new to our church today, I am Bishop Meirs, and
will be officiating today’s prayers and communion.”   Bishop Meirs
paused to ensure everyone was listening, and gradually the whispering in the
crowd died out.  “Many of you may have heard some disturbing news.  I
will tell you what I know, so that rumor does not change into
hysteria.   Bishop Vargas Elm, of Ogden town, has been killed - and
there is apparently evidence he fell from grace and embraced the worship of Hrask
before he died.”

The crowd gasped in shock - as if to disbelieve even the idea of such a high
ranking priest turning from their faith.   Bishop Meirs
continued.  “There is also more news from Ogden town - apparently, shortly
after his death, a Dreamer at a hospital near Ogden town awoke - apparently at
the direct command of the Goddess in her guise as Seleni.”  The crowd
burst into whispering - obviously disturbed by the revelation.  “We know
that the Dreamer was a young woman - but few other details are known.  The
Council of Hierarchs will undoubtedly wish to speak with the young woman
personally - and I am led to believe she is already on her way to meet with
them.   I caution you all that little else is known other than the Dreamer’s
name - and that speculation as to further details will only lead you
astray.  I promise you, that when more details are known, they will be
shared.”

The whispering continued for over a minute, before a few vocal people called
out.  “What’s her name, then, your Grace?”   Bishop Meirs
motioned for silence, and waited until the crowd’s chatter died down.
Erica tried to shrink further into her cloak - even going so far as to push
herself into Kai’s side - to little avail.

“I was told that the Dreamer’s name is Erica, and that she claimed to have
talked to the Goddess for a short while before waking.”  Bishop Meirs let
the name and tidbit of information sink in a moment, then continued.
“Many of you are probably wondering about the stories of the Jelestine Prophet
- the prophet who claimed she foresaw the end times and the return of the great
heroes of legend - since they so closely resemble news we have all just
recently heard.  My sermon today will be about this story - and why we
need to reflect on St. Jelestine’s message, and not panic.  Prophecies are
fickle and dangerous things - and what they seem to say are often not what they
actually say.  They can be misinterpreted, confused, or
misunderstood.   I will try to guide you through what was said, to
set your fears at ease.”

End times!?  Erica thought.  I’m the harbinger of the
apocalypse!?  What the fuck!?   She looked about to see if
she could possibly leave without attracting attention.  It didn’t look
like it - in fact, she’d probably have every eye in the church on her in a
moment if she tried.  Erica stayed put.

Meanwhile Bishop Meirs began the sermon.  It was interesting at first -
but soon Christine and Erica’s heads were swimming from the glut of names,
events and places the Bishop mentioned.  There was so much information
that it soon became simply noise, and it was all the two women could do to
simple follow the reactions of the crowd of parishioners.

And this looks like it’s going to go on for quite a while...  Erica
thought.  She wasn’t wrong.  Bishop Meirs continued the sermon,
interspersed with hymns by the choir and readings from some sacred book, for
over an hour...

*
*          *

Eventually the service ended - but unlike many church sermons in Canada,
Christine and Erica discovered that the sermons here in Valris, ended with a
healing ceremony.   Sick people from the community, along with the
seriously injured - either soldiers wounded in the line of duty or people
injured in accidents or as victims of crime - were brought forward and arrayed
before the priest in the golden mask and the three priestesses in black and
red.   Together, they called upon Askeline and Isundal, incanting prayers
to their gods - and one by one the sick and hurt were healed - with what
appeared to Erica and Christine, obvious signs of magic - glowing lights,
strange scents and the hint of glorious music.

Holy Shit!  Erica thought.  I think they’re actually,
really healing these people!   This is amazing!  She watched
in rapt attention, seeing in the people arrayed before the congregation a
shadow of the same miracle that saved her life a scant week ago.

Christine looked on in equal amazement.   I’m not sure these
people are charlatans... for one thing, you’d think the local Lord or Lady
would be pissed off if their healed troops came back to work still
injured.   Look - that guy!  I think he just had a broken leg
healed.  Oh my god...  Kai and Maeve were right - their Gods do grant
miracles.   Why doesn’t ours?  What the hell is wrong with us
that we’re not worthy?   Christine found herself growing angry -
not at Kai and his people, but at the Church and God back home, on
Earth.   Does God hate us?  What did we do that was so bad
that He turned away from us - abandoned us?  Why should these people get
to see their Gods every day - and yet ours remains a myth people can debate
doesn’t even exist?  It’s not fair!

Erica didn’t notice Christine’s anger until several minutes passed.
What’s wrong with her?  Erica thought.  “Are you okay?”  She
whispered.

I’m bloody angry!  Christine thought.  Why are we left in
confusion and doubt when the people here know their gods care for them, and can
see them every day.  It’s bloody wrong!   She was so angry
she didn’t trust herself to talk, so all she did was take a breath and say “I
will be...  How about we talk later, okay?”

“Sure, if you want.”   Erica gave Christine a supportive hand-squeeze
in return for her earlier one, which earned her a wry smile from Christine.

By the time they turned their attention back to the clerics, the service seemed
to be over - until one of the priestesses in red garb came forward, and called
for alms plates to be passed about - offerings for the church.  “Today’s
offerings will be split between the soup kitchen run by the temple, and the
Widow Heather Branscombe, who recently lost her husband to a heart
attack.    She and her young child need the money to repair her
home, and make sure she and little Willow are taken care of.  Thank you,
and may Isundal watch over you in guidance and protection, and may Askeline
soothe your pains and your worries.  Be well, and return to us when you
are able.”

The choir struck up another hymn, and the alms plates came around.  Kai
passed a silver coin to each of Erica and Christine, obviously expecting them
to offer it to the alms plate.   They did - and soon everyone was
rising and slowly making their way towards the exits.

One thing struck Christine - and she was sure she could
see the same revelation on Erica’s face as well - was that there was an
incredible sense of community amongst these people.  It was becoming
obvious that the church wasn’t a place they felt they had to go once a week,
then leave - it was the glue that held their community together.  They
actually liked coming to church - it gave them purpose - and she suspected it
gave them a kind of strength as well.  A sureness - that no matter what
happened, they weren’t alone - that their gods were with them, and watched over
them.  It seemed to make them feel like everything would be all
right.   Christine knew a few times back home where she would have
killed to feel that - like the night her mother was diagnosed with ovarian
cancer, or two years later at her funeral.  She fought like hell!
Christine thought.  She prayed, and she fought...through the chemo and
the tests and the weight loss.  The worst part was losing her hair - Mom
always loved her hair - and she didn’t make it.   God abandoned her -
like he abandoned everyone else.  God I miss her.   Tears
came unbidden to her eyes, which she brushed away quickly.   The
people here don’t know how lucky they are.

As they slowly made their way out of the church, Kai saw Christine brushing
away tears as well.  “Is everything all right?”  Kai asked.

“No... I’m just a bit taken aback by church.  How about we talk about it
later?”   Christine didn’t want to brush off Kai, but at the same
time, she knew if she started talking about how she felt about all this, she
wouldn’t stop until she blew off a lot of steam - and in their present
surroundings that wouldn’t be the best course of action.  Kai looked like
he obviously knew something was wrong, but he obviously decided to let it go
for now - for which Christine was grateful.

Soon they managed to extricate themselves from the crowd, and made their way
outside where it seemed an afternoon market was being set up in the nearby town
square.  Farmers who had come for service were opening stalls to sell home
crafted furniture or winter vegetables left over from winter, jams and jellies,
and other luxuries.   It had all the appearance of a spontaneous
medieval faire.

Kai maneuvered them through the crowds, past the town square where the market
was being held, and into the streets of Wethom.  “I haven’t forgotten what
you both need.”  Said Kai.  “And I thought it might be best if we got
away from some of the crowds - Erica at least looks like she could use the
air.”

Erica looked like she wanted to ask something - but held back, obviously
bothered by what she heard during the sermon - she looked a lot like Christine
did in that way, even if the reason she was upset was different.  “I could
use the air - it was getting a little close in there.”  Christine said
nothing, trying to keep her emotions in check - but it was obvious she was
troubled as well.

The three moved through the streets, Erica and Christine following Kai’s
lead.   They walked for several minutes, past a various shops and
houses - Erica saw shops she thought looked like a general store, a blacksmith,
and a tavern, before they arrived at a shop whose sign looked like a mortar and
pestle.   “We’re here.”  Kai said.  “This is Serra
Hateger’s shop.  Genna grows herbs, and makes medicines and remedies for
much of the town.  There are a few other shops, but hers is the best.”

Kai tried the door and found it locked.  “It would seem Genna isn’t back
from church yet.  We have a few minutes to wait.”   Perhaps
now would be a good time to ask Christine what was bothering her?
“Christine - you seemed rather upset near the end of the service.  Did
something go wrong?”

“Yes... No.  Not really.”  Christine sighed sadly.  “I was upset
- I am upset - that your people see their Gods every day, and yet our people
rarely if ever see their Gods.  It’s to the point where we see the divine
so infrequently that many people even doubt if He exists, or if He’s a fairy
tale - a myth.   I guess I’m a bit jealous, and a bit sad, that you
have what a lot of my people wish for, and for some reason can’t have.”

Kai listened to Christine, and realized this was a problem for which there was
no easy answer.   “I don’t know why your Gods don’t show themselves
to you - it seems strange to me, given what I grew up with.  They must
have their reasons, I guess.  All I do know is that if they’re anything
like our gods here, they care about you - even if you don’t see it
everyday.  Maybe they’re busy with something really important - and it
only seems like they’ve forgotten about you.  Maybe they’ll return one day,
and take your people into an embrace, and you’ll all remember that your Gods
love you and cherish you, even if they can’t be with you all the
time.   That way you can cherish the time you have with them all the
more.”

“Do you really believe that?”  Christine asked.   I’ll bet he
does, too.  She thought.  I wonder if it’s that easy.

Kai thought for a minute, then nodded.  “I do.”  He said.
“Maybe you just need to be patient, and have faith.”

“Faith Isn’t easy, Kai.”

“It never is.  Faith is hard - it’s full of doubt, and doubt can be a hard
thing to master.  Just trust in the fact that someone that loved you
enough to bring you into the world, will never truly abandon you.
That’s all you can do - that, and take solace that even if they aren’t with you
right now, does not mean that they will never be with you again.”

Kai and Christine were interrupted by a woman’s voice calling from down the
street.   “Oh hey!  I’ll be open in a moment!”   The
woman was in her thirties, with blonde hair and an attractive, matronly
build.  She had on a blue wool dress and a soft woolen hat.  She too
looked like she was just returning from church.

“It’s all right, Genna.”  Kai said.  “We can wait.”

Genna chuckled.  “More healing ointment, Kai?  Or is it bandages this
time?   I swear, you and your friend Maeve get into enough trouble
for ten people!  And who are your friends?”   Genna’s easy going
tone and manner made it obvious that she knew Kai - and perhaps Maeve - fairly
well, and considered them friends as well as good customers.   She
unlocked the shop door, and Kai held the door for them to enter.

This is going to take a little getting used to, thought
Erica.  I’m not used to doors being held for me - and I’m sure as hell
not used to needing what we’re here for!

“This is Christine.”  Kai said, motioning to Christine.  “And this is
Erica.   They’re why we’re here today.”  Kai still looked a bit
uncomfortable talking about why they were here.   “They need some
things for their moon-days, and they don’t know what we use here in Valris.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed.  “Where are you from?   Ghaelorn... or
maybe Calambray?”  It was obvious Genna was interested in where Christine
and Erica were from.

No wonder, Erica thought.  She probably hasn’t been more than
twenty miles from home in her whole life.  I think I read that somewhere
back home - most people never travelled in the middle ages.  Something
about it being too dangerous and difficult.   After riding double
for almost a week on a horse with Kai, Erica could understand some of where
Genna was coming from.  Walking twenty-plus miles a day wasn’t her cup of
tea, if she had a choice.

“Neither.”  Erica said.  “We’re a lot further from home.”

“You’ve travelled very far, then.  What do you use back home?”

Christine described the sanitary pads and tampons from back on Earth, and
explained how they were disposable, rather than reusable.   She even
took the last two of her sanitary napkins that were in her purse, and gave them
to Genna, who seemed interested and amazed with them.

“Well, I don’t have anything as fine as that.”  Genna said.  “But I
have something close.” Genna went to a drawer and pulled out two cloth pads
about the size of a sanitary napkin, save that they were thicker and had a
pouch that sealed with buttons.  She also pulled out a large handful of
moss.   “Our women often use bloodmoss, stored in these small pouches
to catch the blood during our moon-days.  Some prefer to use rags inside,
than pads such as these.  We usually coat them with some powdered Luris
root and some honey to make it more comfortable to use.  We have them too,
if you would like.”

Kai looked a bit green around the edges - like he was learning more than he
ever wanted to about women’s periods.   Christine noticed Erica was
looking a little wild-eyed as well.  Men, she thought.  So
squeamish about something so normal.   She chuckled a bit, her
sour mood lifting somewhat.  I guess men are men, no matter what world
they’re from - and even if Erica considers herself a girl, she still has a lot
to learn about being one.

Christine indicated they would take two of everything,
including the salve to coat the rag tampons with, and motioned to Kai to pay
Genna.  Kai never looked so glad to spend money, forking over several
silver coins.   Probably so we can get out of the store ASAP.
Christine thought.   I can’t blame him - I’m not too keen on
trying these herbal items, but Erica and I won’t have much choice in a week or
two.

Genna quickly instructed the two women on how to boil and sterilize the pads
and tampons before being reused, and they left the shop.   Erica
looked less green around the gills by the time they left, like she was
adjusting at least a little to the idea of needing this stuff - but Kai looked
glad to be outside the shop and back on the streets.

“I think maybe we should head back to the cabin, now that we have what you
need.”  Kai said.  “Unless we’re forgetting something I don’t
recall?”

Neither Erica or Christine could remember anything else they needed, so they
shook their heads, and followed Kai to Wethom’s Tree gate, where he purchased
three small bundles of something that looked like wood from a merchants stall
before escorting the two of them out of the city.  It promised to be a
long walk back to Kai’s cabin.

*
*          *

Sir Andred prowled the streets of Arathel with a growing frustration.  He
had arrived in the city yesterday, and aside from the rumors that she had spent
an entire day and night with the Council of Hierarchs, there as no word of her
location.   He had inquired at the cathedral - and the priests had
simply said she was resting at home - but no one seemed to know where exactly
her home was, or at the very least, didn’t choose to tell him.   It
was obvious that the Council didn’t want her disturbed - but it was equally
important he find her - without informing the council of why he was
there.

He was just about to give up the search for the evening, when he saw a
blue-white light shoot far into the night sky, near the Cathedral of Three
Moons.  What in the seven hells is going on there?
Being curious, he headed in that direction - and soon found that someone had
activated the Moon-Gate - a woman seen working for the Council at
times.

Someone? He thought.  Probably Maeve.  And if she was
authorized to use the Moon-Gate, she was probably fetching her friends so that
the Council could speak with them... so all I have to do to make sure I see
her, is simply wait right her for her return.  Good.  I wonder where
she is right now?  Sir Andred prepared to wait for Maeve.

Chapter 21 - Assassins

Maeve saw nothing more than a flare of blue-white light as she stepped through
the Arathel moon-gate - a short, continuous flare of light accompanied by the
intense feeling of motion which felt almost like falling from a great
height.   Then, just as suddenly as it began, the light ended - and
Maeve appeared somewhere else.

She was standing on a circular stone platform, lightly covered in snow, leaves
and debris blown over the structure by wind and winter weather.  It was
nighttime, and would have been quite dark if the moon of Thuria had not been in
the night sky.  It was waning, but there was enough light to see by for
Maeve, who had made a career of being in dimly lit areas, looking for things
people didn’t want her to see.

Harumph!  Dangerous indeed.  No more dangerous than taking a
stroll to the market for tea.   I always suspected the Hierarchs
forbid travel by Moongate to reserve their power for themselves.  Why am I
even surprised anymore?

If I have my bearings right, I’m about a day west of Ogden-town and two days
north of Wethom.  I’d best hurry.   Maeve began to move,
using the moon to orient herself - and slipped on some ice concealed by the
windblown snow, hurting her rump soundly.   “I don’t think this is
what the Hierarchs meant when they said Gate travel was dangerous.”  Maeve
said, rubbing her sore rump with a chuckle as she stood carefully.  “I
should be more careful.”

Maeve carefully half-walked, half-skidded off the icy platform of the Moongate,
and onto the withered grass surrounding the gate.   It felt good to
have her feet on solid ground.  Spring was well on its way to arriving -
the snow was melting - in a few weeks it would be gone and green would be
coming back to the woods.   It also meant that the roads would be
soon turning to muck as the freeze of winter left the ground.

I’d better get moving.   Maeve started jogging south, using any
game trail she came across to speed her travel - a trick taught to her by
Kai.   At least the forest here is old growth forest - there’s
lots of room to run.   Mile after mile was eaten up by Maeve’s
half-jogging, half-walking pace.   She tried not to think about what
might be happening near Wethom right now - or what might have already
happened...   At least I cut five days off my return time.  I
just hope it’s enough.

*
*          *

Erica grabbed the axe in both hands, readying herself to take another
swing.  It was tough work, chopping wood - but it helped her feel better,
and it seemed to be building up some muscles in her arms as well.
It had been two days since Kai had taken them to Wethom for the church service,
and she still wasn’t sure about this end times prophecy everyone had been
talking about.  Kai had explained it in more detail later, once they were
back at the cabin - the Dreamer waking wasn’t the cause of the disasters to
come, just one of the signs that they were coming.  That didn’t make Erica
feel much better, considering the propensity of people to kill the bearer of
bad news, but it did make her feel a *bit* better.

She raised the axe for another swing, pausing first to brush some sweat out of her
eyes and to brush some strands of her hair out of her field of vision.
I’m glad Christine showed me how to braid hair, Erica
thought.  It does help keep it out of the way.
Erica couldn’t understand how something so seemingly simple - like braiding
hair - could be so hard in practice to learn at first.   Even now,
her braids were lumpy and malformed at best - not neat and precise like
Christine’s.   I guess its just a matter of practice.  After
all, Christine’s probably been braiding hair since she was a schoolgirl - I
just started learning in the last few days!

I’m glad that I’ve been feeling better since Ogden town, too.  Maeve
was right - the weird feeling from the magic is getting less and less.
Erica had been doing her meditation to monitor the Call of Hrask every night,
like Maeve had asked her to, and had been noticing the strange covetous greed
feeling was weaker each day.  It was weird, she thought, how
using too much magic could change your personality.  I guess nothing comes
without a pricetag.   She swung the raised axe down with some
force behind it, and the piece of wood split fairly easily into two smaller
pieces.  “I guess my strength is getting a bit better.
Awesome.”   Erica was still surprised sometimes at the sound of her
new voice - it still sounded alien to her ears - but it was becoming more and
more normal each day.

I wonder how long it’ll be before I forget how I used to sound?
Erica wondered.  I already can’t remember clearly what it feels like to
not have these breasts.  It was a little scary, losing touch with her
old self - but it didn’t frighten her too much; it was more a matter of
discovering who she was now.  It was strange and exciting and confusing
all at once.

Meanwhile, Erica could hear the rhythmic twang - thwack of Christine practising
with Kai’s spare bow.  She’s getting pretty good at that.
Erica thought.  Maybe I’ll be strong enough to draw the newbie bow
sometime soon.  I hope.   She was a little surprised at how
much she really did want to learn how to use the bow, too.   Maybe it
was the competitive spirit in her - or maybe she was just channelling her inner
Merida, but she thought it would be cool - and if dangerous stuff kept
happening to them, it might keep her alive too.

Erica placed another piece of wood on the chopping block and readied the axe
for another swing.   She was almost done - there was a respectable
pile of wood and kindling piled up next to the block - and she knew there was
going to be more needing chopped tomorrow anyway.   Erica and
Christine had made a pact to use up or throw out the pottage in Kai’s cookpot
and try to make something new.   It might be harder to do, but they
were planning on giving it a try tomorrow - just for their own
sanity.   We haven’t got sick yet, Erica thought.  But
the same stew in the same pot for several days without refrigeration - that’s
just gross even if they are used to it here!

“I wonder how Kai is doing?”  She said to no one in
particular.  Like usual, he had left early in the morning to check his
traplines - and if things went according to the routine they had sort of fallen
into, he would be back in the mid-afternoon, with a few birds to pluck or a
rabbit or two to skin, along with his catch of furs for the day.
Then they’d have supper, and spend a few hours with language
lessons.   Then, Erica would probably get some lessons on female
grooming or whatever else Christine thought she needed to know about now, and
then they would head off to bed.   It isn’t a bad routine, all
things considered.   I just hope we do something different in the
next day or two - maybe some more tracking practice or something?  That
would be cool.   Erica looked at the sky - she was starting to be
able to judge the time by the sun a bit better.  It looked to be
mid-afternoon - maybe four o-clock or so if she had to guess.   Kai
should be home soon.   I wonder how his day’s been going?

*
*          *

Kai was having a bad day.   First, I lost my footing and slipped
off that log crossing Delver’s creek and get soaked from top to bottom.
Then two of my traps were destroyed by gods-knows-what - and to top it all off,
a sable - the first one I’ve caught in months - was mauled by some other animal
and I might not be able to save the fur...  How does Erica put it?
Today really sucked.   Kai grumbled as he slipped through the
woods.  At least I’ll be back soon, and we can have dinner.  I’ll
bet the girls had a better day than I did.  I can’t get over how nice it’s
been to have company again.   Kai smiled despite himself.  He
had enjoyed having Erica and Christine at the cabin with him...  Maeve
would have been climbing the walls by now - but those two just seemed to adapt
- and in Erica’s case even enjoy it.

Kai smiled a bit when he remembered Christine’s and Erica’s first attempt at
making bread.  It had risen - sort of - and it tasted okay - sort of - but
they obviously had never made a loaf of bread before in their life - or at
least, a long time.   Seriously... how did they get this far
without learning to bake bread?   I mean, Christine obviously had
several servants - She and Maeve said she lived in a mansion, after all.
Maybe Eric didn’t learn to make bread because he was a boy?   I could
ask them, I suppose.   I don’t want to embarrass them though -
they’re trying really hard.

Kai’s reverie was broken by a small voice calling out to him...
“Kai!  Kai!  Great!  I found you!  Yup yup
yup!”   The chattering voice was tiny and high pitched - obviously a
reechi voice - one Kai knew quite well.

“Rosie!”  Kai said.  “What in the Skyfather’s name are you doing out
this far from town?  If your mother Joorie finds out you were here, she’ll
skin both of us!”  Kai knew Rosie fairly well - she was a curious young
reechi girl who loved to ask questions and hear new stories.  She probably
heard he went off with Maeve recently, and wanted to hear all about it.
She was also the daughter of the seamstress that recently sold Christine and
Erica their clothes.

Rosie was a young reechi woman, about eight years old - or about twice that,
plus or minus a year or two - in human reckoning.   She was taller
than her mother by about a half-inch, with a long red tail that whitened at the
tips.  Unlike many reechi, Rosie could glide through the air, like many
normal squirrels could.  The ability was rare in reechi for some reason,
but the individuals it did appear in were considered lucky.   Rosie
was wearing a green and grey woolen dress cut to accommodate her gliding wings,
along with matching hat and mittens.   She also had at her waist her
leather belt with her twin daggers, which she never left home without - much to
her mother’s dismay.

“I came to see the Dreamer!   You left with Maeve, and came back with
two different girls.  Mom said one was called Erica - and Bishop Meirs
said the Dreamer was called Erica.  I bet they’re the same
person!   I just want to say hi!”  She paused for a moment to
catch her breath.  “I would have too, but I didn’t like the look of the
guards you hired.  They didn’t look very friendly.   Why did you
hire guards?”

Kai’s blood ran cold.  “What guards?”   Who the hell is
watching my cabin?  Kai thought.  “What did you see?”
Kai’s voice had an edge of anger to it.

Rosie looked nervous - like she’d been caught doing something she
shouldn’t.  “I didn’t mean to go look while you were gone, Kai...  I
just wanted to see the Dreamer.   I wasn’t sure which one it was -
the red haired one cutting wood, or the brown haired one shooting
arrows.   I was going to ask one of your guards, but I didn’t - they
made me scared.”

Kai struggled to calm himself.   “Okay, Rosie, you’re not in trouble...
but I need you to pay attention.   I don’t have any guards - so the
people you saw are not my friends.”

“Oh acorns!”   Rosie said, obviously worried.  “Then why were
they watching your house?”

“I don’t know.  How long ago was this?”  We’re maybe fifteen to
twenty minutes from home, if I hustle.  I could run it in eight.

“About an hour or so - I came looking for you.  You’re pretty hard to find
you know!”

Kai nodded.  “How many were there?  Did they have any weapons?”
Kai drew an arrow from his quiver, and readied his bow in his grasp.

Rosie looked worried - like she’d done something wrong.  “I saw four of
them.  They had bows - short curved ones - and knives.   They
were wearing cloaks too, which was weird cause today has been pretty warm for
the beginning of Rainfall, let me tell you.   I got the impression
they didn’t want to be bothered - which normally doesn’t stop me - but for some
reason this time it did.”

“Rosie, they’re not my guards - they’re probably not friendly
either.   I have to find out who they are and why they’re
here.   You on the other hand, need to either get back to your
mother, or keep well out of the way until I figure out what’s going on.”

“I think I vote for staying out of the way.”

“Fine,” Kai said.  “Let me handle this.”   Kai gripped his
bow.   If you’ve hurt either of them, I’ll kill all of you.
Kai thought.   And I think I need to talk to Maeve about her
bringing her work to my home.  They must be here because of the recent
thing with Bishop Vargas.  Maybe he had friends who didn’t take well to
his untimely demise?

Kai raced through the woods as quickly as he could, while still allowing for
stealth.  It took eight long minutes to get close to his cabin, when he
slowed his pace, and came upon some of the interlopers tracks.   Human
sized - probably adult males from the footprint.  More than one - but they
split into two groups of two.  Damn - two at once is a lot harder than
one, dammit.  I guess I don’t have a choice, though.
Kai crept forward slowly, keeping to the underbrush until he caught sight of
one of the two groups of men.  Rosie followed him at a distance, quiet as
only someone of her tiny size could be.

They were crouched in the woods behind and to the left of the smokehouse, where
they could get a good look at the back of the house, particularly where
Christine had been practising with his spare bow.   She’s getting
better, he thought idly, counting the arrows in the target.  Where
is she?   He turned his attention back to the two men.  Like
Rosie said, they were overdressed - wearing full woolen cloaks with the hoods
up.  Probably for concealment more than protection from the weather,
Kai thought.  This doesn’t look good - but at least there aren’t any
signs of violence.  What are they doing?

Kai crept a bit closer, trying to discern what their purpose was.  The two
figures were watching the cabin with their bows close to hand, but neither had an
arrow drawn, and neither looked ready to attack.  They looked tired, like
they were waiting for something.  One of the figures muttered something to
the other figure, who shifted a little in his spot.  At first Kai couldn’t
hear their voices, but a few moments later he caught the sibilant hiss of a
Fallen on the wind.  A Fallen!  Here?   He silently
nocked and drew an arrow.  It doesn’t matter why they’re here,
then.  They’re up to no good.   He aimed for three long
seconds, and loosed.  Before the arrow streaked across the clearing into
the neck of the first Fallen, Kai’s second arrow was nocked and ready.
The Fallen Kai had struck tried to scream - but all that came out was a gurgle
and a loud groan, plus a spray of blood.

The second fallen turned to see his comrade screech and die - and raised his
bow - when Kai’s second arrow caught him in the face.  He too, fell
screaming.  When he dropped to the ground, his death throes were not
unlike the violent tossing of that of a snake or other serpent.  Fitting,
Kai thought.  Now to find cover before...

“Pwyll!  What’s going on?  Have you got him?”   A voice
called out - another Fallen.

Kai guessed it was another one of the men watching his cabin - a guess soon confirmed
when two Fallen - one with a bow and arrow ready to fire, the other with a
drawn shortsword and shield - stepped into the clearing around his cabin.
They saw their comrades, writhing where Kai had shot them down, and realized
something was wrong... They were the hunted, not the hunters.  They ran
for cover, desperate to avoid being shot by the unseen archer that had killed
their allies.

Kai began to move for another shot, when the cabin door flew open and Christine
and Erica came out, a little frightened looking.  Christine had a knife,
and Erica had her handgun.   “... it sounded like screams.”
Christine was saying as they came outside.

“Get back inside!”  Kai yelled, cursing as he gave away his
position.  “Get inside now!”   The two women did so, but it was
plain to see that they weren’t pleased about it.   I can’t risk
them getting hurt, he thought.  Then again, I’m not too keen on ME being
hurt, either.  It sounds like its ME they’re after.  Why in the seven
hells would anyone want me dead?   Maeve I could understand - but why
me?

Kai ducked as an arrow whizzed over his head.  Gotta move - the one
with the bow must have my position.   He dropped low to the
ground, and crept to the left, circling around the clearing to try to get a
clear shot.   One was behind the well - the other behind the
woodshed.   He scrambled and crawled towards the outhouse; it should
give him some cover.   As Kai scrambled, the fallen archer popped up,
and tried to see where Kai was - but before Kai could ready his bow and aim,
his target had ducked back under cover.   The archer is by the
well - the other one is by the woodshed.  Good to know.

Kai took cover behind the outhouse - the remaining two Fallen didn’t seem to
see him - instead, they seemed to be staring over where he had been a few
minutes ago.   Kai tracked their gaze, and saw the bushes moving,
like another person was creeping up in his tracks.  Who the hell is
this now?  Kai thought.  The archer among the fallen stood to take
a shot - and his arrow arced into the bushes, where Kai heard a reechi yell of
terror.  Rosie!  That damn fool girl is going to get herself
killed!   Then he realized what she was doing - she was making a
distraction for him.

Without pause, he nocked, aimed and fired at the Fallen by the well.  The
arrow flew from his bow like a stroke of vengeance; the Fallen screamed as the
wooden shaft pierced his chest.   As the Fallen fell screaming, Kai
broke into a run.  I swear, if we live through this I’m going to skin
that reechi for risking herself!  Brave, I’ll admit - but STUPID.

The last Fallen rose up from behind the woodshed, readying his sword and
shield.  Kai stopped a moment, from perhaps 40 feet away, and drew the bow
back so far it and his arm creaked in protest. The arrow leapt from the bow,
and when the Fallen raised his shield to deflect it, it instead punctured the
shield and sank into its surface, almost up to the feathers.   The
fallen screamed in pain.   Must have hit his arm.  Kai
thought.  Good - pain will make him sloppy.

Kai had no time for further rumination - the Fallen warrior hissed a battle-cry
and charged.  Kai ducked and rolled, tossing his hunting bow aside as he
did - the Fallen’s blade passed above his head as the once-human creature was
taken by surprise by his agile move.  Kai was a brawny woodsman - most
people didn’t expect quick reflexes out of him - to their dismay.

Wasting no time, Kai rolled to his feet and wrenched the wood-axe from the
chopping block.  The smooth handle fit Kai’s palm like a glove, worn
smooth over years of use.  He turned to face the fallen, who was turning
to face him as well.   They circled about, looking for any sign of
weakness or any opening the other might leave.   Kai could see the
Fallen’s shield arm was weakening - his shield was starting to dip - and the
fallen himself looked frightened.   Kai was in better shape; he
wasn’t injured - but he was fatigued from a long day of checking the traps and
running back to the cabin.   Kai had the edge.

The fallen must have realized Kai was trying to wear him down, because he
surged forward, obviously hoping to make a quick kill.  He came in low,
shield raised and stabbed at Kai’s stomach.   Kai blocked the blow with
the handle of the axe, and returned the favor by slamming the butt of the axe
into the fallen’s jaw.  The fallen fell backward, floored by the
blow.   Does this asshole think I’m an amateur?  Kai
wondered.  If I couldn’t fight, I would have been dead ten times over
with all the places Maeve has dragged me...   While the creature
struggled to regain its feet, Kai stepped towards it, and kicked it in the
chest, once more knocking it prone.  Before it could react, he stepped on
its chest, and swung the axe in a mighty two-handed swing, burying the axe in
the creatures face.

Kai stepped off the creatures corpse, huffing and puffing from his exertion, to
see the door of his cabin slowly open.  Christine and Erica slowly came
out, looking around at the carnage wrought so quickly on what they had become
to accept as their temporary home.   Erica was carrying her pistol,
and Christine had a knife.

Erica was the first to speak.  “Are you okay, Kai?”

“I think so, Erica.   I think there were only the four of
them.”  Kai stood up, and mentally took stock of the situation - he also
noticed he was acting like it was no big deal, when it really bothered
him.  I guess I don’t want to look scared they came to my home in front
of the two of them.    He didn’t think he was trying to impress
anyone.  “They’re done - or will be.”   Kai could still here
the moans of one of the Fallen he had shot, over by the
smoke-house.

Christine asked “Are there any more of them?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t think so.”   Kai looked
around.   Rosie!  Is she okay?  Her mother will skin me
if she’s been hurt!   “Rosie - are you out there?”

“Yup yup yup!”  The young reechi called, from near the bushes she had moved
to distract the Fallen.  “Did my distraction help?”   Rosie
scampered out from the bushes, and ran up to Erica and Christine.
“Hi!  I’m Rosie!   Which one of you is the Dreamer?”

“Rosie!”  Kai yelled.  “You could have been killed!   Yes,
your distraction helped - but it was a dangerous risk - and a foolish
one.   How would I explain to your mother what happened if you got
hurt?”

“I dunno.”  Rosie said, unabashedly.  “I didn’t get hurt so it
doesn’t matter, right?”

Kai just looked at the young reechi and realized it was probably a lost cause
arguing with her.  He wiped his face with his hands and groaned.
“Fine - just don’t tell anyone what happened here, or I won’t talk to you for a
year.”

Erica and Christine watched the short argument between Kai and Rosie, and
Christine couldn’t help but smirk.  It just seemed so ludicrous - a six
foot tall grown man arguing with a fourteen inch long squirrel in a
dress.  She snickered, earning a dirty glance and a frown from Kai.

“I’m sorry - Christine, Erica - this is Rosie Clik-tik, Joorie’s daughter - the
one that runs off into the woods all the time.”  Kai looked exasperated,
and pulled the wood-axe out of the fallen’s face.  “I have to deal with
the other wounded creature.  I’ll be right back.”   He strode
off, heading towards the archery field where the wounded fallen was moaning.

Rosie smiled again.  “Hiya!”  She said.   “I wanted to meet
the Dreamer that woke up.   I’ve been hearing all sorts of stories.
Are they true?”

Erica had no clue what kind of stories Rosie had heard, and could only imagine
the rumors flying about the small town of Wethom.  “I don’t know,
Rosie.  We could tell you what happened to us, I suppose.”

“I’m not sure Maeve would like that.”  Christine said.  “But then,
Maeve’s not here.”

“I’d love to hear, I would!   Could we go inside?  It’s cold and
there are dead things out here!”  Rosie didn’t seem too dispirited by the
recent attack, or the grisly aftermath.   Maeve and Kai were right
- she is hyper, Christine thought.

Christine shook her head.  “Go ahead - I’ll see if Kai needs a hand.
You might want to put a kettle on too - he looks like he’s had a rough
afternoon.”

“Yeah, I’m on it.”  Erica said.  “Let’s go inside and get some tea
on, Rosie.”

“Yup yup yup!”  Rosie scampered up to Erica’s shoulders and rode the human
into the cabin.

Christine walked over to the smoke-house to see Kai dragging a body over
towards the wood-shed.  The moaning had stopped.   He must
have killed him... Oh god, I have to get out of this place.  I just want
to go home!   She hugged her arms a moment to collect her
thoughts, and came over to Kai.  “Need a hand?  Erica’s distracting
Rosie.”

Kai looked up, and Christine could see the exhaustion in his face.  He
looked tired - wrung out.  “Yeah.  I could.  Thank
you.”   He stood up, and she could see there was blood on his hands.
“Help me drag them all over here for the moment, so I can figure out what the
hell we’re supposed to do about them, okay?”

Christine nodded.  He wants me to touch one of them... urgh!  I’m
not sure if I can...  She walked over to the one by the well, and
tried not to look at the arrow piercing him, or his strange reptilian
skin.  “These... creatures.  They used to be human, right - that’s
what Maeve said, didn’t she?”

“Yes - they used to be.  As far as I understand it, any sorcerer who
allows the power to overtake himself, and gives in to the Call of Hrask, can
become one of those.  When they do, they become puppets of the Hserinyar,
giving themselves over to their cause.  It’s not pretty.”

Christine haltingly picked up the legs of the dead fallen, and started dragging
him over to Kai’s pile of corpses.  “Do they always turn to the dark
side?  Do some ever retain their humanity?”

Kai thought for a moment.  “I don’t know.  I’d have to say the vast
majority turn dark - but I suppose there’s a possibility that one might retain
some humanity, even if it’s a small chance.   I can’t say I’ve ever
seen it, though.”   He paused, dropping a third corpse into the
pile.  “Most good folk assume they’re evil and up to no good.
Usually, they’re right too.  I’ve never seen one on our side, if that’s
what you’re wondering.”

Christine pondered that a while, dropping the dead Fallen onto Kai’s pile.  Erica
or Maeve could become one of those if they aren’t careful.  She
thought.  Holy shit!   This place is too bizarre.
Christine was once again struck by a powerful homesickness and she realized all
the more why she didn’t belong here.

Kai looked at the pile of bodies - he had dragged three over, and Christine
one.  She looked freaked out.   He put his hand on her shoulder
- more to steady her than himself - and tried to calm her down.  “It’s
okay, Christine.  We’re safe for now.  Let’s go inside.”

Christine nodded.  “Sure.  Before Rosie rummages through everything
in the house?”

“Yeah that.”   Kai grinned.  Rosie probably would too - at least
a little.   “We’d better go rescue Erica from her, or she’ll be
asking her questions all night long.”   Christine may not like it
here much, but she seems to bounce back really quickly.  She’s strong...
really strong, inside - where it counts.   “We also need to try
and figure out what the hell is going on - but I’d much rather do that AFTER
Rosie is well on her way back to town... Which means we’re probably going to
have to tell her our story before we can get her out of the cabin.”

“She’ll probably think Erica and I are crazy.”  Christine said.

“Probably.”  Kai laughed.  “Then again, you might be surprised.
Let’s go inside.”

With that, the two of them headed inside to see what Rosie and Erica had gotten
up to.

*
*          *

Maeve kept hiking through the woods.  It had been almost a day and a half
since she appeared at the Moongate near Ogden town.  During that time
she’d gotten lost twice, nearly stepped in a hunter’s bear trap, and been
stalked by a wolf who thought better of making her a meal.   I
hope he appreciates what I go through for him.  “Argh... will these
forests never end?”

Maeve’s cry of frustration startled a pheasant, hidden by some bushes, who took
wing and flew off.  Tired as she was, it startled her and she gasped for
breath for a moment.  Scared by a damned bird!  What is the world
coming to?   As she paused to catch her breath, Maeve noticed
that the area looked somewhat familiar.  “I think I’m getting
close.”  She said to no one in particular.   I must be no
more than five, maybe ten minutes from Kai’s place.  I recognise that
fallen log from my last visit - before we brought Erica and Christine
here.   I’d better get a move on.

Maeve hastened her stride, and soon reached the outskirts of Kai’s homestead.
All around there were signs of violence - splatters of red, the buzzing
of flies - the stench of death.   Oh no!  Am I too late?
Maeve rushed into the clearing towards the cabin, and halted short of the
door.   There were four dead Fallen lying in a pile...  And
not Kai, Erica or Christine.   Maeve let out the breath she
hadn’t realized she was holding, and calmed herself.   They’re all
right... Thank the Goddess!   She gathered herself, and looked
around.  “Where the hell are they?” she muttered.   Not having
anywhere better to start looking, she approached the cabin door and
knocked.  “Kai - open up!  It’s Maeve!”

There was a clatter from inside, and a few seconds later the door opened up,
revealing Erica.  “Maeve!  You’re back early!”  She said,
obviously pleased to see her.

Kai stood and came to the door, gently pushing Erica aside.  “Maeve!
Its good to see you...  Do you know anything about those four dead Fallen
out by my woodshed?   Because I suspect they’re related to our last
job.  Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I can’t.”  Maeve said.  “It’s good to see you too, my
friend.   Can I come in?  I have important news.  News that
can’t wait.”

“Of course.  Get inside - you look as tired as I feel.”  Kai held the
door for her.  “We’re not alone at the moment - Rosie Clik-tik stopped by
just in time to tell me about the Hserinyar outside.  We’ve been telling
her some about our last adventure - since she got involved in it.”

“Yup yup yup!  And wow was it exciting!   I’d like to meet the
Goddess one day!  Or fight wizards!  Or go to another world!  Or
even see a demon... from a very safe distance of course.”   Rosie
scampered up between Kai’s and Erica’s feet - and then climbed Kai’s body to
his shoulders.   Reechi didn’t like being stepped on - and Rosie
liked it less than most.  She tried to avoid floors when big people were
about.

Maeve sighed.  “It’s nice to see you too, Rosie.  Does your mother
know you’re here?”

Rosie looked guilty.  “No... she hates fun.  It’s always ‘be
respectable and don’t daydream, Rosie’.  I think she must have been beaten
as a child.  Seriously.   But no - she doesn’t know I’m
here.”   She looked over to Maeve, a little worried.  “You’re
not going to tell her, are you?  I won’t be able to sit down for a
week.  She might even ground me!”   Something about the way she
said it told Maeve Rosie didn’t mean be confined to her bedroom.

Maeve looked at the others.  Erica seemed alright, and Christine seemed
relatively at ease.  Kai looked more concerned about the dead bodies
outside than Rosie knowing their story.  “No - I won’t tell your mom...
but you have to head back home right now.   It’s obvious things
aren’t safe yet, so I want your word you won’t come back out here until we come
to Wethom and tell you it’s all right.”

Rosie looked like she was thinking of a way to twist that request - but the
serious demeanor of Kai and Maeve seemed to make her think twice.
“Okay!  I won’t come out here till you say its safe.   Thanks
for not getting me in trouble!”    Rosie turned to Christine and
Erica.  “It was nice meeting you both!”  She said.  “I hope we
can talk again sometime.”

Erica laughed.  “It was nice meeting you too, Rosie.”

Christine came and even shook Rosie’s paw.  “Agreed - it was nice to meet
you too.”  Rosie chittered her thanks and goodbyes, and leapt off of Kai’s
shoulder, gliding out the door a good thirty feet.

It suddenly dawned on Maeve what Rosie meant about being grounded!  No
wonder she doesn’t want to get in trouble.  She likes flying too much.
Maeve thought.  She waved goodbye as well, and came inside, waiting for
the others to close the door and come over to the small living
room.   Is that tea I smell?   I could use a cup of tea...
Maeve got up and busied herself with the kettle and a cup - she knew Kai didn’t
stand on ceremony much out here.

Kai came and sat in his favorite chair, while Maeve fiddled with her tea.
Christine came and took a seat by a small corner table, and Erica sat on a
bench near some furs.

“So... Care to explain the four dead Fallen outside?”  Kai asked.

Maeve sipped her tea, wincing a bit.  Too hot.  “They were sent to
kill you, by one of the Hierarchs.  I think I know which one, but I’m not
completely sure.”

“Gods above, you’re serious!”  Kai exclaimed.  “A Hierarch?
Why?”

“Think about it Kai!”  Maeve said.  “How did Vargas - a Bishop - get
his high rank unless he had help from within the church.  The only people
who can appoint a Bishop are the members of the Council of
Hierarchs.   It also explains how Vargas was able to avoid being
detected for so many years - his co-conspirator was running interference back
in Arathel.”

Kai considered this a while, obviously troubled.   Christine piped up
too.  “I thought the Council of Hierarchs were the good guys!
If they are, then how come one of them is with the...”  Christine
struggled with trying to say Hserinyar, until she gave up and said “...the bad
guys.”

“I don’t know their exact motivations as to why they
turned against the faith, and against our country.  All I do know is that
they know about Erica and about what you said - that Tiamat is or was on your
world.  I suspect they want to use your knowledge to find Her.”

Erica paled.  “That’s bad, right?”

Maeve nodded.  “Very bad.  And what’s worse is that I’m under orders
to bring all of you back to Arathel to be placed into protective custody until
the Council can figure out what to do with us.  I’m probably going to be
in custody with you.”

“What!?”  Christine yelled, standing up.  “You aren’t going to just
hand us over, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”  Maeve said with an annoyed tone.  “Seriously - do you
think I would do that?   I promised I would try to keep you
safe.  I’ve got a plan... It’s a little dangerous - but if it works I
should be able to expose the false Hierarch, and make sure Erica gets training
so you and she can go home.”

“How?   Why the hell would they let us go, if they think we know what
we know?”  Christine looked scared and angry, and confused.

“Because you or Erica can’t tell anyone from Mercia where Tiamat is, if you
aren’t ON Mercia, can you?”   Maeve had a smug look on her face.
“They won’t harm either of you - you’ve been touched by direct divine
intervention.  There would be a riot in the streets if the public found
out.   No - keeping you here is too dangerous - so the only option is
to send you home as soon as possible.”

Christine stopped and thought about it.  It kinda makes sense.
She thought.  WTF?

“Maybe,” started Kai “You should tell us what the hell happened in Arathel
first, and what you intend to do about it second.”

Erica stood and said “I’ll fetch us some bowls and some food - it sounds like
we’re in for a long night - and all of us are hungry.”   She stepped
past Maeve and into the kitchen.

Maeves stomach growled at the thought of food - and she could swear so did Kai’s.
Food would be good.  She thought.   Anything’s better
than trail rations.   “Good idea!  Thank you.”

“De nada.”

“You’re acting pretty domestic all of a sudden.”  Christine quipped.

Erica snorted.  “Bite me, Christine.”  Erica answered from the
kitchen.

While Erica got the food, Maeve started talking, starting with the assassin on
the steps of the Cathedral of Three Moons.   The tale took some time
to relate - more since they stopped to eat inbetween - but eventually she
finished.   The sun was just starting to go down when Maeve got to
the end of her tale.   “...and then I got here, and saw I was too
late anyway.  Thank the Gods you were all unharmed.”

“Yeah... About those assassins.”  Kai started.  “They were sent to
kill us - but you were sent here via moongate to stop them.  But the way
Rosie and I heard them talking, they just wanted to kill me - they didn’t even
try to go after Christine and Erica - and they were watching the cabin for
hours before I got back.  What gives?”

Maeve thought for a moment.  “I’m not sure.  Maybe
their orders had been changed after I talked to the Council of
Hierarchs?   They must have been - otherwise they would have tried for
all three of you.  That’s the best guess I’ve got - he must have
communicated with the assassins through magic, and given them different orders
- either himself or through a helper.”

“So now what?”  said Christine.  “Your Council which you thought
would help us wants to lock Erica and probably all of us up in some monastery
to keep us safe?!   How is putting us in prison going to keep us
safe?   What are you going to do if they order you to let us be
locked up?   Are you going to let them?  We might be safer on
the run, as far as I’m concerned.”

Erica looked more than a little bit worried as well.  “I don’t want to get
locked up anywhere, Maeve.  I’ve spent years in what amounted to mental
prisons - I’m not keen on walking blithely into another one.   I
thought you said they would help us?”

Maeve ran her fingers through her hair, and sighed.  “I am convinced that
the Council will try to send you home - I am - especially once they realize
that you can’t tell anyone here where Tiamat is, if you aren’t here in the
first place.   I am equally convinced that this protective custody is
equally temporary - there are no crimes you are accused of, and even if the one
corrupted Hierarch wanted to imprison you indefinitely, the others would never
allow it.”   Maeve gathered her thoughts a moment.  “The Council
wants you kept safe because they don’t know what’s going on - and I can’t
simply tell them what’s going on without proof.  The members of the Council
are too high-ranked to be accused without proof - and the only way to get said
proof is to catch them in the act...”

“So you want to use Erica and possibly me as BAIT!?   Are you out of
your god-damned mind?   No way - no way in HELL am I going to allow
that to happen!”  Christine exploded.  “I’m responsible for Erica’s
safety, and there’s absolutely no fucking way you’re using either of us as bait
to catch your bad seed, nor lock us in some barbaric religious
prison!   Erica’s already died once because of your crazy quest to
stop these evil bastards - and you want to give them a chance to do it again!”

“So then what?”  Maeve countered, angry and frustrated.  “You and
Erica go on the run.  You have no money.  You don’t know where you
are, or where you’re going.  You barely speak the language - cause you’re
not leaving here with those amulets - and you have no idea who to beware of or
who could be an ally.  Oh yeah - you’ll probably be on the run - for all
of three or four days before you’re run to ground.  And then, when the
Fallen and their master realize they don’t need you and only need Erica, the
BEST you can hope for is they sell you as a slave - and hope they simply don’t
kill you.   And then, once you’re out of the picture, they use magic
to torture and interrogate Erica, then probably ship her back to Hserin in case
they need to get more information later - assuming she doesn’t die in the
process.  Either way, one or both of you are dead - and will never see
each other again.  HOW IS THIS BETTER!?”  Maeve’s voice rose in
volume and anger to a crescendo, where she was almost screaming the last few
words of her speech.   She fought to contain her frustration and anger,
and continued, calmer and quieter.  “I’ve been doing my best to keep you
both alive since we got here.  I have.  If you don’t trust me enough
to see that, I have no idea what I can do to convince
you.”

Christine looked stunned at Maeve’s violent outburst - she wasn’t used to
seeing Maeve scream, nor being told the very blunt facts of life.  She
wasn’t prepared for it.   Kai looked shocked too - and angry at both
Maeve and Christine.  Erica looked upset and frightened.

Kai was the first to speak.  “First of all, I will personally throw the
next person to scream in the gods-damned well.  Second, speak civilly to
each other or get out of my house.  This isn’t a barroom where you can
brawl it out – it’s my home, dammit!   Maeve - I know you’re upset
and tired - but we’re pretty stressed out too.  Christine, you know
virtually nothing about us - and have made it plain you don’t want to
learn.  Fine.  But Maeve has been a professional at her job - which
is spying - for almost a decade.   If she thinks she can implicate
the Hierarch, and get you and Erica home safe you should do her the courtesy of
at least listening before you act like a gods-damned spoiled child.
Thirdly, Erica appears to be a grown woman to me - and seems quite capable of
making her own damn decisions.  Were you going to ask her what she wanted
to do - or just tell her what you intended to do?   She deserves some
respect, I think.”

Christine looked stunned from the attack on dual fronts - she expected the blow
up from Maeve - but Kai’s accusations took her by surprise.  What do
you mean I don’t want to learn?  What the hell have I been doing for the
last week and a half?   How dare she call me a spoiled child -
Maeve’s plan is absolutely insane!  And what about Erica?
She’s been through a lot lately - she DIED for freaking sakes.
She’s in no position to decide if she should put her life in danger again...
Christine was literally paralysed with anger, confusion, and - although she
wouldn’t admit it - fear.

“I’m sorry, Kai.”  Maeve said.   “I should have behaved
better.  This is your house... I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”  Kai replied.

Meanwhile, Erica was frozen in fear.   Erica remembered nights at
home in his father’s house - shortly after his mother Laura had passed
away.   The screaming, the anger and recriminations, the guilt - and
the horrific beatings he had never told his sister - or told anyone else -
about.  But most of all he remembered the fear of his father... fear -
until nothing else remained, except some vain hope that maybe if he could
apologize enough, be sorry enough, his father might love him again.
Its all my fault.  All my fault.  All my fault.  My fault she
died.  My fault we’re here.  My fault...   Erica shook
like a leaf, and tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t move - didn’t say
anything.  She couldn’t.   She was locked in a nightmare of fear
- a flashback of many traumas not so long past.

Maeve saw Erica’s distress.  “Erica... are you okay?  I’m sorry for
yelling.”

Oh shit!   Christine thought, snapping out of her anger and
fear induced paralysis.  It’s like she’s going into shock.  What
happened?   “Erica?  Can you hear me?”
When Erica didn’t answer, she tried to gently touch her hand - to give some
human contact, and to try and let Erica know she was here.   Erica
flinched almost reflexively when Christine touched her - but allowed her to
gently grab her hand the second time.   She’s reacting to our
yelling - my freakout and Maeve’s.   She’s in crisis - if I don’t
stop her, she might get really bad.

“I should have died.”  Erica’s voice sounded flat and emotionless, yet
upset at the same time.  “I should be dead.   I... I did this to
all of you.  I put you and Kai and Maeve in danger, and I took you from
home and now we’re stuck and people are going to die because of me...  I
should be dead.  Why did your goddess pick me?  Why do I get a second
chance?”   Tears were streaming down her face, and Erica was still
shaking.  Christine gathered her in a hug and tried to calm Erica with
soothing words, while Maeve directed Kai to get a blanket.

Kai came back a moment later with a warm blanket, and Christine let go of Erica
so he could wrap it around her.   Christine re-wrapped her arms
around Erica and continued talking quietly to her - trying to calm her, with
her voice low and soothing.

“What’s going on?”  Kai said, obviously concerned.   Erica was
staring numbly ahead, clutching herself in a hug, as if to get warm or ward off
the cold.  She leaned into Christine, seemingly oblivious to the room
around her.

“She’s in crisis, reliving a trauma.”  Christine said.  “If I don’t
stop her, she’ll go catatonic.  Let me do my job.”

Kai nodded, sick with worry and obviously confused, stood back and let her
be.  Maeve looked equally worried and confused - but like her friend Kai,
she too stayed back and let Christine do what she had to.   She
didn’t do nothing, however...

Maeve whispered a Word of mind, and looked into Erica’s thoughts.
Fear and confusion predominated - alongside guilt and pain.   His
father beat him...beat him horribly, and blamed him for the death of his
mother.  He blames himself too - for his mother, and for putting us all at
risk.  She doesn’t think she deserves a second chance at life...
Maeve pulled back, and let Christine work, unsure if any meddling on her part
would make things worse or not.  She’s really fragile right now... with
all she’s been through, I don’t know how she’s managed to come this far without
breaking down.   I didn’t realize.   Maeve felt
ashamed.   With all that they had been through, with all the heroism
and bravery Erica had shown in battle and out, Maeve had forgotten Erica was
not used to the chaos and violence that surrounded Maeve and her
adventures.

Meanwhile, Christine kept talking calmly and soothingly to Erica - telling her
it would be okay, that she was amongst friends, that nothing would hurt her
here...  It took some time, but slowly, Erica was able to get her wits
about her and come back from the edge of her traumatic event.   As
minutes passed and Erica slowly calmed down, Christine felt herself calming as
well - all her energy was focussed on making sure Erica got better - not on her
outrage or anger.  Maeve was right.  Christine thought.  We
can’t go on the run like this.  As much as I hate her plan, it’s the only
plan that has a hope of working.  We don’t have any other choice.
As Erica finally calmed down, Christine turned to Maeve, and said  “We’ll
do it your way.  We’ll try your plan.”  The fight had gone out of
Christine - all she wanted now was to keep Erica safe.

“Okay.”  Maeve said, quietly.

“Is Erica going to be okay?”  Kai looked worried and upset.

“I think so.”  Christine said.  He looks like he really cares
about her...  He doesn’t even know her - either of us - and yet he really
cares.   Figures one of the nicest guys I ever meet is a mountain man
from another world.   Wonderful.

“I’m... I’m okay.”  Erica whispered.  “Sorry... I... I don’t know
what happened.”

“You had us all pretty worried there.”  Kai said, smiling kindly.
“Care for a cup of tea?”

Erica smiled.  “Sure.  Thank you.”  Erica looked a bit better,
mentally - but looked physically exhausted.  “Thanks Christine.  I
guess I needed that.  Sorry to spaz on you.”    While Erica
talked to Christine, Kai got up and went to the kitchen - Maeve joined him a
few moments later.

“No problem, kiddo.  Just don’t let it all build up to a boil next time if
you can help it, okay?   Did you want to talk about it?
It might help.”

“Not right now, Christine.  Maybe later.”

Christine looked a bit dubious - as if not sure if she was being blown off, or
if Erica was serious about talking later - but she realized it didn’t
matter.  If she wasn’t ready to talk, trying to force he would be
useless.

“Maeve was right.”  Christine said, looking like she bit a sour
pickle.  “Her plan sounds really dangerous - but it’s probably the best
shot we have.   I know I said it was crazy, but part of that was me
being afraid.  I don’t know what to do, Erica.  I don’t think we can
do this on our own.”

“I think you’re right.”  Erica said.  “Even if we did stay safe for a
while, without magical training, how can I get us home safely?   I’m
scared too, Christine.  I’m also angry... if we can nail this guy, don’t
you think we should try?”

“I don’t know, Erica.  I really don’t.”

Kai and Maeve arrived with tea for all four of them - and for a time, all
discussion was halted.   It was a welcome respite from the arguing
and discussion and the stress, and by the time all of them were finished,
everyone seemed much better composed.

Maeve was the first to break the silence.   “My plan, such as it is,
is this: We head to Arathel via moongate - I’ll explain later,” She said to
Erica and Christine.  “...then if we can, we go to my home while I contact
an ally of mine.  If we can’t do that, we stick together.
Eventually, we should end up at the monastery where the Council wants to keep
you for a while...  I expect the Corrupted Hierarch to make his move
there.   When that happens, we make OUR move, and take him down.”

“Isn’t he a powerful wizard, like Bishop Vargas was?”  Christine
asked.  “He wasn’t so easy to take down.”

“True.”  Maeve said.  “But unlike Bishop Vargas, he doesn’t have a
very powerful priestess assisting him, and he has no idea I know who he is and
roughly what he intends to do.  We have a powerful advantage in that.”

“Who is the traitor, Maeve?”  Kai asked.

“I believe it to be Hierarch Donal Blaine.  He discovered me a little too
quickly when I was on the steps of the Cathedral filleting the assassin sent to
kill me.   I suspect he was there to find out if the job had been
done - and was unpleasantly surprised to find his assassin dead and in pieces.
Also, in the Council chamber, he protested my accusations of Bishop Vargas very
strongly - and then in an odd about face, gave me written permission to use the
moongates to facilitate bringing all of you back to Arathel.”

Kai looked stunned.  “I’d have never guessed.   Blaine has a
sterling reputation - but I suppose Vargas did as well.”

“That’s sort of the point.”  Maeve said.

“So what’s our next move?”  Christine asked.

“I guess get some sleep, get an early start, and head to the
moongate.   The sooner we get this done, the sooner you both get
home.”  Maeve looked tired - this whole affair was wearing heavily on
her.   “It will take us about two days to get to the moongate - maybe
less with Kai leading us - and then its anyone’s guess.   I suspect
we’ll either succeed or fail very quickly once we reach Arathel.”

“Well at least we won’t be kept waiting.”  Kai said, with a touch of
gallows humor.  “I suppose you need me to come along on this leg of the
trip too, old friend?”

“If you could.”  Maeve answered.

“I know I would feel better if you came.”  Erica said.

Kai smiled at Erica.  “Well, I can hardly say no, now can I.”  Kai’s
smile turned to an irreverent smirk as he looked towards Maeve.  “Of
course I’ll come.  I still need to get paid - you can’t skip out on a debt
so easily, Maeve.”

*
*          *

That night, as the others were bunking down for the night, Erica sat at the
kitchen table, writing in her ‘Goddess Journal’.   Every few nights
she wrote a few notes in it - either remembrances of the divine encounter, or
her thoughts and feelings resulting from the encounter.  It was in
English, of course - which she supposed wouldn’t help the local priests and
priestesses much when she and Christine went home.  The book wasn’t even a
quarter filled, but it was close.  She had filled it with her musings and
reactions - and drawings of the Demon, and of the Void, and of Seleni.  I
suppose they can always use magic to translate it, if they want.
Maybe if I learn Valdan I can translate it myself.

Everyone else had gone to bed or was going to bed - Christine was staying with
Erica tonight, and Maeve was using Christine’s room.  It would be a bit
cramped on the bed, with Christine and Erica sharing - but at least one of them
wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor.  Kai was still up, checking some gear
in his room - and Erica suspected Christine was waiting for her, in case she
wanted to talk.   Only, what do I talk about?  Erica
thought.  Tell her that I was reliving a really shitty part of my past
with my dad as the bogeyman?  Or that I have all this guilt about the
death of my Mom?   What about the fact my whole life turned upside
down - and I died.  Or maybe the whole why am I worth divine intervention
thing?   God... My life is so frigging messed up I don’t know where
to start.   At least I don’t have the voices anymore or I’d want to
be locked up - it would be easier!

Erica mused for a while, then cursed as she realized the quill pen she’d been
trying to use had leaked ink all over the page, leaving a large ugly
blot.   Muttering an oath, she blotted up as much as she could - then
on a whim used the quill to take the ink and draw little limbs and squiggles
outward from the blot - like rays radiating from a dark sun.   And
from ugliness, art.   At least this mistake can have the
redeeming feature of looking halfway decent.   By the time she
was done the ink blot was dry, and she closed the book.  “Time for
sleep.”

She supposed she’d need it too - the plan was to hike north for perhaps two
days - maybe a bit less - and activate a moongate.  Erica didn’t know what
to expect with them - but she kinda hoped it would be like those retro Ultima
games she used to play on the computer.   That would be rad.

Kai suggested we bring the last horse, in case I needed to ride to keep up
too.  I wish he didn’t have to do that, Erica thought.  I hate
being a burden - it really sucks.  I mean, they never say they’re annoyed
but they look at me like I’m holding them back.  Maybe they’re not and I’m
just being overly sensitive?    I think what annoys me more is
that even though I have been building up some muscle and endurance, I still
might need to ride.  Being weak and frail sucks - If I get back home I
seriously need a gym membership.

Erica snorted, trying to imagine herself - as she was now - at a gym, with all
the watchful eyes on her, all the attention.   She didn’t like a lot
of attention - when he was on the streets, attention was usually bad.  No
attention was better than bad attention.   Somehow she didn’t
think she’d fade into a crowd too well back home.   Another
problem for another day.

Getting up from the chair, she walked quietly back to her bedroom, the near-oak
boards squeaking a little beneath her feet.  “Hey.”  She called to
Christine, who was already tucked in to one half of the bed.  A small
candle shielded by a glass barrier lit the small room; Christine looked like
she was trying to read one of Kai’s few precious books.

“Hey you.”  She replied.   “Done your goddess journal for the
day?”

“Yeah - whatcha reading?”  Erica asked.

“I’m not sure yet.”  Christine said, putting the book down.  “I’m
starting to get a word here or there - but I can’t make sense of it yet.
Its starting to come.  How about you?”

“I haven’t tried much, so far.  I’ve been too busy with chopping wood,
baking bread, writing in my journal, doing my meditations to not turn into a
lizard-woman, and learning to speak their language, that I haven’t taken any
time to try and read.”

“Try.”   Christine handed the book to Erica, and sat up to make room
for her to sit down.  I wonder if she’ll be able to read it - her
mastery of the language has been better than mine across the board since we
started learning.  If I can start to read some of it, she should be able
to read a lot more of it than I can.

“Okay - but no promises.”  Erica took the book and looked at it.  It
said Legacy of the Ancients - and it was then she realized it wasn’t written in
English.   I can read their language?   Holy crap!
When did this happen?    “I think... I think I can read it.”

“Go ahead then - what does it say?”  Christine asked.

“In the days of the glorious sun, shortly after the exodus of our people from
slavery, the surviving Heroes of Legend led what was left of humankind through
the Gates of Harad, to the realms now known as Valris, Rillian, Calambray and
Madragoor and claimed them as our new homeland.   Other clans
travelled to the far east or south, and yet others took to the sea - but these
lands we claimed as our home, and here we remained for three thousand
years.”   Erica shook her head in disbelief.   “I can’t
believe I can read this stuff.  How did you know?”

Christine smirked a little.  “Well as much as I hate to say it, you’ve
been a lot better at learning their language than I have - and I figured that
if you were better at speaking it, maybe you’d be better at reading it
too.   Maybe the amulets work better on you for some reason?”

“I’m not so sure.  I think I heard some Valdan before I met Maeve on
earth.  In my voices.”

“How is that possible?”   Christine looked puzzled.

“I don’t know.  Maybe I heard it through the Dreamer, at the House of
Broken Dreams?”

Christine didn’t know what to say to that.  It might be possible, as much
as anything seems to be possible in this crazy world.   Hearing
voices from the dreamer linked to him makes sense, kinda.  It’s a lot
less far out than some theories, I guess.    “Did you want
to talk about anything?  I’m here if you do.”

“I don’t know where to start, Christine.  I could talk all night - but it
wouldn’t change we’ve got to get going early tomorrow.  I don’t know what
to say.”   Erica hung her head, letting her lopsided braid fall over
her shoulder onto her chest.  “It’s all so complicated and twisted
together.”

“It is.”  Christine said.  “But it might get easier to unravel if you
talk about it one piece at a time.  Like small bite size pieces, instead
of the whole damn thing all at once.”

“Maybe.  Yeah - it probably would.   Not tonight though,
okay?   Let’s just make it through the next five days and we can
figure it out then.”   Maeve had guessed that the whole thing would
be sorted out - with regards to the Hierarch - in the next week or less.
Five days seemed like splitting the difference; either way, Christine
understood the point.

“Okay, kiddo - but I’ll hold you to it.”

“Fair enough.”  Erica said.   She crawled in next to Christine,
and blew out the candle, and the two of them went to sleep.   As the
two of them lay there in the dark, they were lulled to sleep by the steady
dripping of melting snow on the roof of the cabin.  It seemed that spring
was finally here.

Chapter 22 - Second Word

The next morning saw the four of them up with the dawn.   Erica and
Christine were up last - Maeve and Kai had already packed their backpacks, and
put some of the gear on the horse, when the two of them were roused.

“You might want to hurry and eat,” Kai said. “It’s a long time until dinner.”

“Grnnugh!”  Christine said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Tell me about it.”  Erica groaned.  “I miss my coffee.”

The two of them got up, and quickly got dressed and ready to travel.  They
didn’t have much to pack - but even then, Erica’s pack seemed really heavy to
her - although a little less heavy than when she first got to Kai’s
cabin.   Erica smiled, pleased with herself - another sign of her
building up a little bit of muscle tone.

Erica and Christine sat at the kitchen table and quickly ate some porridge,
flavored with a spoon of jam and honey.  It was edible - and Christine
finished first, going to finish packing her few possessions.   Erica,
alone for a moment, daydreamed a bit.    We’re going to do it
- we’re going to try and get home.   This is probably the last time
we’ll ever see this cabin.   It was with some surprise that Erica
realized she didn’t want it to be the last time.   I haven’t even
had a chance to see what Mercia is like - it seems sad to just walk away and
leave it.   I’m not sure I want my legacy to be She boldly fled home
as soon as she had the chance.  Hell, is Earth even my home anymore?

“Earth to Erica.”

Christine’s voice snapped Erica out of her daydream.  “Um... Yeah?”

“If you’re done, we’re leaving.   Kai said leave the bowl in the
washtub.”

“Wha...?  Oh - sorry.”  Erica scarfed down the last of her porridge,
and rinsed the bowl, dropping it into the washtub.   “I’ll be ready
in two seconds.”

Christine laughed.  “Sure.  I’ll be outside.”

Erica went to the bedroom, and grabbed her pack - it had her clothes, her brush
and other toiletries, her journal and pens and ink, and her gun with one and a
half magazines of ammunition left. There wasn’t much else she had
left.   It felt like Kai or Maeve had stuffed some travelling rations
into her pack as well - and a waterskin was tied to the back of it.
Well, at least I know why it feels heavier now - and its not my muscles
fault this time!

Pack in hand, Erica left the cabin, giving her room a wistful look.  She
hadn’t had the room long, but it had started to feel like her room, not a guest
room.  She was going to miss this place.   Heading outside, she
saw Kai, Maeve and Christine ready to go.  Maeve had the horse’s reins in
her hands, and was leading it on foot.   Kai took a moment to lock up
the cabin.

“You sure you want to try walking, Erica?”   Kai asked.  “We’ve
got the horse if you need it.”

Erica smiled.  “I’d rather try walking for now.  I’ve got to build up
my stamina and strength somehow.  I can always ride if I get exhausted or
start slowing everyone down.”

“Fair enough.”  Kai said.   “Lets get moving - we have a lot of
terrain to cover before nightfall - and if the weather turns bad we could end
up to our asses in mud.”

With that, their group started hiking north through the wilds.

*
*          *

A day and a half later saw the four of them camped nearby the moongate - it was
late in the day and dusk was approaching.   Although Kai had
predicted slow going, the ground remained frozen enough to keep them from being
bogged down, which helped greatly.   Not getting lost twice on the
way north (like Maeve did on the way south) helped as well, although the gentle
ribbing Kai gave Maeve over it was not as well received.  Maeve liked
being self-sufficient and it seemed to gall her that she got lost as easily as
any other city-dweller in the wilderness.

The moongate appeared much as Maeve had left it, save that the ice and snow on
the stone platform had for the most part melted, leaving a slurry of wet leaves
and puddles of cold water on its surface instead.   About twenty
paces away from the gate, Kai had hobbled their horse, and set up a small
campfire to cook dinner.   Kai wasn’t taking the time to hunt - they
didn’t need the food, and the rest might be more important in the near future.

Kai poked the fire with a stick, and asked Maeve a question.  “Maeve...
one thing has been bothering me.   You said that the Fallen were
coming to kill us - and we discovered that meant mostly me - but they fought
poorly, and treated me like I’d never been in a battle before.  They must
know I’ve been on at least a half-dozen adventures with you - why didn’t they
send someone, well, better?”

Maeve blushed a bit, looking more than a little embarrassed - but also a little
smug too.  “Well, Kai, you know how paranoid I can be, right?”

“Yes... go on.”

“Well, I always figured that one day someone would try to get to me by trying
to hurt you - so every time I informed the council that I used your help, I
played you up as a simple woodsman who got me from point A to point B - and
nothing more... a simple backwoods bumpkin who didn’t understand half of what I
did or why I did it.   I figured that way if anyone was ever sent
after you, they might assume you were a novice - and you’d give them a very
nasty surprise.  Which is exactly what happened.”

“Country bumpkin, eh?   Can’t say I’m thrilled to hear it - but I
guess it might have saved my life.  Did anyone ever tell you you’re
slightly deranged with your worries, Maeve?”  Kai sighed.  “And does
the council think you pay a country bumpkin the rates I ask for no reason?”

“You’re welcome.”  Maeve said.   “As for your pay, the council
doesn’t care what I do with the money they give me - but I wouldn’t be surprised
if they assume you’re my kept man.”

Christine laughed a little, covering her mouth with her hands.  The idea
of Kai being Maeve’s kept man was more than a little laughable.
Even Kai was smirking with the idea a bit.   Erica laughed as well.

“Kept man?  Not bloody likely.”  Kai said.  “I don’t get NEARLY
enough presents for that.”

All four had a laugh at that, and got down to the business of eating an early
dinner.  Dinner in this case was a meal of winter sausage, dried berries
and nuts, with some flatbread cooked in a pan over the fire.   It was
filling and tasted pretty good - but left Erica and Christine feeling like it
was a little too salty and fatty.

After dinner, Maeve climbed to her feet and motioned for Erica to come with
her.  “Come with me, Erica - I want to show you something about the
moongate.”

“Cool!”  Erica chimed, and followed.

Kai rolled his eyes.  “I guess we’d better clean up our camp a bit,
Christine - they’ll probably be a while, and once they’re done we’ll probably
be on our way.”

Christine stood and helped Kai clean up the mess from dinner, while Erica
scrambled after Maeve towards the moongate to see what she wanted to show
her.   Maeve was studying the moongate and its glyphs, walking over
the patterns carved into the stone surface.  Erica watched Maeve for a few
minutes, then chimed in.  “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“At the moment, not much.”  Maeve answered.  “This moongate Isn’t
activated - I need to see what moon-phases are required for it to
work.   Before you ask, each moongate is keyed to the phases of
Mercia’s three moons, Seleni, Thuria and Doviar - and if the moons are in the
correct phases, the gate is activated automatically - but otherwise someone
using the gates has to trick them into thinking the correct moon-phases are in
play to make them work.   That usually requires Sight magic - which,
fortunately I’m pretty good at.”

“And searching the carvings will give you a clue as to which moon-phases are
this one’s key, right?”

“Pretty much.”  Maeve said, stopping her search.  “I think this
moongate is waxing, new, new” - which means I’m going to have to trick this one
into working.”

“Is it hard?”  Erica asked.

“Not really - more time consuming really.  A novice might find activating
a moongate taxing but not difficult - if they knew the trick.  The church
doesn’t exactly tell many people how to use these things.   They say
its dangerous to use - but I’ve used it twice, and had no problems.
Perhaps there’s some danger I’ve yet to see.”

Erica considered that for a moment.  “Well, if the church doesn’t tell
people, why are you telling me?   Won’t that get you in trouble if
they find out?”

“Maybe.”  Maeve said.  “But it might give you and Christine a chance
to escape if everything I’ve planned goes totally wrong.  I want to give
you an edge - and if nobody knows you know it, even better.”

Erica was a little surprised, and kind of pleased that Maeve felt that
way.   It made her feel like Maeve cared - which at times she had
been less than sure of - but which was becoming more and more apparent.
“Thanks...  But I don’t know the word for Sight.  Or how to do
anything with it.”

“Which is why I’m going to tell you - and see if you have any talent for
it.  If you want me to.”

“Yeah!  That sounds pretty cool.”   Erica grinned, looking
forward to seeing what another Word could do for her - although she dreaded the
aching feeling her head would probably have after it was done.
“Knowing how to use these gates could come in handy.”

“I thought you’d be interested.   Now just realize that you may not
have much - or any - talent for Sight.  That means you might not be able
to do what we have to do to make this work.  Normally a master has months,
if not years to gauge her apprentice to know what Words are their forte and
what Words are their nulls - but we don’t have months or years, so we have to
try this quick and dirty.”

Erica nodded, and sat down.  “I just calm my mind, like before - and
listen, right?   Listen and concentrate?”

Maeve nodded.  “Yes.  Just like before.”   Maeve gritted
her teeth - she always hated uttering True Words.  It tore the heck out of
her throat and left it raw and sore for hours - but if she was going to show
Erica what to do, she didn’t really have much choice.   Maeve entered
her nairya, and spoke the Word of Sight.

Once again, Erica listened - and like before, Maeve’s voice filled her ears -
expanding around her like a bubble of sound, outside of which nothing else
could be heard.   Within, however, Erica felt buffeted by whispers,
hints of sounds long forgotten - or some she had never experienced.
Strange sensations shivered across her body - some painful, and some
pleasurable - while visions of places and people and things stranger flashed
across her eyes.  The sound of Maeve’s voice filled her ears, rumbling
like a freight-train, and howling like a siren at the same time - the bass
rumble and the high-pitched shriek melding into a sound Erica thought would
split her head or drive her mad... and then it was over.   She gasped
as the flurry of concepts and visions slowly died down - and like before her
brain felt like it was stuffed to bursting - like it could contain not a single
piece of data more.  Erica groaned in pain, and felt something wet on her
lip and realized she had bitten her lip enough to bleed.

Maeve too, was groaning.  “You okay, Erica?”   Her voice sounded
hoarse and rough.

Erica sucked her bleeding lip for a second, and said, “Yeah, I think
so...  Does it ever get any easier - learning a Word, I mean?  It
feels like my head’s going to explode.”

“Not really.”  Maeve said.  “The only consolation is that there
aren’t more than a dozen or so True Words.”

Maeve cleared her throat - which hurt more than a little - and waited for Erica
to recover from the uttering of the Word.   After a minute or two,
she continued.  “Now we have to activate the moongate, Erica.
To do so, We’ll be crafting an illusion - one designed to make the moons above
us seem to be in the correct phase - which is waxing, new, new.  You’ll be
in charge of changing Doviar - it’s the smaller, greenish moon.”

“What do I do?”  Erica asked.  “Study it and concentrate like with
the lock?”

“Yes - but this time, instead of trying to open it, try to imagine the moon as
if it was waxing, rather than being in its full phase.  Project that
imagining over the moon itself, and imagine your altered version of moonlight
striking the platform.  Give it a try - you might feel fatigued, like
before.  Don’t worry - that’s normal.”

Erica nodded - and clutched her sore head as her vision swam in front of her
eyes.  Maybe don’t do that, she thought.  She tried to
concentrate - it was hard with how much her head was aching - but she managed,
and watched the small green moon called Doviar.   It was small -
maybe one-half the size of Earth’s moon - with a green tint to its appearance.
Erica could only wonder what elements it might be composed of to have
that tint to it - so she simply ignored that thought and studied its
appearance.   Unlike Earth’s moon, there was no face in Doviar... it
seemed pockmarked in places, like any moon - but it had a very noticeable
crater on its bottom left quarter - almost looking like a beauty mark, if there
had been a face on the moon.   She concentrated, trying to imagine
what the moon would look like only half-full, with an expanding crescent
instead of being full...  It’s hard - getting the moon to look
half-full instead of full - I can’t do it.  She thought for a
moment.  Maybe its hard because I’m trying to change the moon
itself.  Maybe if I overlay what I’m imagining on top of what I see -
what’s really there - it would work?   Sort of like layers on a
computer program!   Erica tried to push her mental image on top
of the real image of Doviar - and in a few moments, felt she had
succeeded.   Around the platform, green light was shining from what
looked to Erica to be a waxing moon.

As the illusion settled over the moongate, Erica once again felt a draining fatigue
sweep over her.  It was almost as strong as the first time she cast a
spell, and once again she felt tired and dizzy.   Maeve helped steady
her.

“Good job, Erica.  You did well - and on your first try too!
The illusion should hold long enough for me to finish the
activation.”    Maeve continued casting illusions as Erica
rested.   “If you ever have to activate a moongate, you would do what
you just did to all three moons - and the gate would become powered.
When you’re ready, come here and I’ll show you the rest.”

“Okay.”  Erica gulped a few breaths.  “I’m coming.”  She stood
up, and came over to Maeve - and as she did, she couldn’t help but see
something shimmer on the stone platform, just under her field of vision - like
it was concealed in the stone itself.   “Why is the stone
shimmering?”  She asked Maeve.

“It Isn’t - you’re using a bit of the Sight and detecting the magical energy
held within the stones.   Open your eyes - your mental eyes - and
stare at the stone...  What do you see?”

Erica didn’t see anything at first - but as she stared at the stone, and willed
her inner eyes to open, rather than her physical eyes - she began to see more
and more, like another layer of visual information overlaying her normal
sight.   It was strange - but exciting and interesting.  Looking
at the stone surface, she saw carvings of icons and symbols, linked by thin
strands of energy and glowing auras in a sort of web.  In fact, it did
look a lot like spiderwebs holding the network together.  “I see runes,
and symbols.”  She said.  “Connected by energy.  Is that what
I’m supposed to see?”

“Yes - that’s it.  To make the gate work, you have to tell the gate where
you are - which is this trio of blue teardrop gemstones - and where you want to
go - which for Arathel, is little gold and white feather.   Other
runes will take you to other locations.   Strengthen the connection
between these two points and the gate will open.”

“What happens if you tell it the wrong starting location?”  Erica asked

“I have no idea.” Maeve said.  “I would imagine it would be bad - and very
probably fatal.  It’s one of those things I’d rather not find out the hard
way.”

Erica gulped.  “Fair enough.  Only use the correct
runes.”   It’s like a transporter accident on Star Trek, I bet -
your atoms probably get scattered across the cosmos.   Better not to
find out the hard way, like she says.

Maeve smiled.  “The moongate is ready.  Kai!”  She called.
“Get the horse, and get over here!  We’re leaving in a minute or two.”

“On it!”  Kai called back.  He and Christine had been watching at a
distance, so that their presence wouldn’t interfere with the spells Maeve was
teaching Erica, or casting on the gate.   Kai took the reins of the
horse in his hands, and gently urged it forward, leading it and Christine
towards the gate.  “We’re ready if you are.”

Maeve smiled again.  “Good - now remember, once we step through the gate,
we’ll have no idea what’s waiting for us on the other side.  Try to stick
together and let me do the talking, and we should be okay.  We’ll head for
my house - Kai knows the way, if you get separated from me - and we can figure
our next move from there.”

Kai, Christine and the horse came up onto the stone platform of the moongate,
and stood beside Erica.   Maeve seemed pleased with their
arrangement, and began to concentrate on the moongate.  Like before, it
was difficult and taxing to link the two location symbols with the energy
streaming between the two points in the lattice, almost as if it was trying to
avoid her mental grasp.  Still, she was able to finally make the
connection - and the platform began to glow, and give off a cool misty white
light.

Maeve huffed and puffed from exertion - she felt tired, sore, and like her
throat was on fire from all the talking she was doing since uttering the Word
of Sight.  “Here it comes.”  Maeve said.

There was a flare of blue-white light - a short, continuous flare of light
accompanied by the intense feeling of falling from a great height.
Maeve could hear the others yelling or giving a small scream in surprise - and
then, just as suddenly as it began, the light ended - and Maeve and the others
appeared in Arathel, on the platform before the twin doors that formed the
Arathel moongate.

However, they were not alone...  Twelve armored warriors, wearing the
colors of Vigilants of the Fifth Circle, and their commander were waiting less
than twenty feet away.   The warriors were wearing plate mail, and
were armed with longswords and large shields - their burnished armor gleaming
in the glare of the fading moongate.  Their helms were plumed with red,
and they looked to be at attention - obviously awaiting someone
important.   Maeve didn’t think it was her... the Hierarchs might
have sent for an honor guard if they knew the time of her arrival - but this
was too much...   No, she thought.  This is for
someone else entirely.

“Welcome to Arathel, your Majesties... I am captain Carmag.”  The
commander of the troops began, while bowing deeply - and then stopped, looking
at the rough spun pants and road-travelled boots of the people on the moongate’s
platform.   “Allow me to welcome you to... oh, damn.”
Captain Carmag straightened up, and looked at the ragtag group on the
moongate.  “It’s not them.”  He called.  “It’s Maeve and the
ones she was sent to fetch!”

The other soldiers, who had been at attention, relaxed at ease, and
smiled.  One of them called out ‘welcome back’ - while the rest just
stretched and shifted.   They looked like they had been here for some
time.   Captain Carmag reached up and removed his helm - he looked to
be in his late twenties, with short dark hair, and a handsome face framed with
a square jaw.

Maeve recognized Captain Carmag - he was a high-ranking warrior in the service
of the Church, and at least a Vigilant of the Third Circle, like Sir Andred
back in Ogden town was.   She had a fair working relationship with
him.   There have been times, though, that I’ve considered seeing
if he wanted to take that any farther.  I wonder if he feels the same?
Maeve thought.   Carmag was funny, charming, and intelligent - all
qualities she enjoyed in men.   Like her, he was also devoted to
his work - which is why they rarely had time to socialize.

“Is this the greeting an old friend gets, Captain?”  Maeve said, with mock
wounds in her speech.  “I would have hoped for at least a ‘What are you
doing here?’ instead of ‘Oh, damn.’  Does it have something to do with
this very elaborate honor guard?”

Carmag grinned.  “It does, my friend.  We are expecting the Fireannor
and Muireanne imminently - come to confer with the Council of Hierarchs about
the news you so recently brought - to which I am not privy.”   Carmag
didn’t look like he was annoyed at not knowing what was going on - and Maeve
knew it didn’t truly bother him, either.  He was very un-curious, another
trait that endeared him to her.  “If you and your friends could clear the
platform, I would appreciate it, Maeve.”

Maeve motioned for the others to move off the platform.  “The High King
and Queen are coming here?  Tonight?   That sounds rather
important.  Will the Hierarchs be meeting with them?”

“No - not until well into tomorrow at the soonest.  Oh - and don’t go
anywhere, Maeve.  We have orders to summon an escort for you to ensure you
and your charges are taken immediately to the Priory of Saint Jillian of the
Meadow.”  Maeve made like to argue - but a quick motion from Carmag cut
her short.  “Please don’t argue, Maeve - my orders don’t give me any
leeway in this.”

Maeve nodded, and tried to accept with good graces.  “Fair enough,
captain.  Where should we wait?”

Captain Carmag motioned over to a small courtyard, near the entrance to the
Grand Cathedral - but well within view of the guards and Carmag’s own honor
guard.  “There will suffice.”  He said.  “And all things being
equal, I’m glad you came back from your last mission well, Maeve.”
Carmag’s smile made Maeve feel a bit giddy.   “Will you be in Arathel
long?”

“It depends, captain.”  Maeve answered.  “I honestly don’t
know.  I hope for several weeks at least.”   Maybe its time
to see if things could work between us, once this affair with the Hierarch is
dealt with?  I know my mother would like that.  She always did want
grandchildren.  She thought.  I could lose myself for an hour
or two in that smile of his... and I can certainly think of some things I’d
like to do with him!

“Perhaps we could spend some time together then?  When we both have less
pressing issues.”  Captain Carmag smiled a wry but charming smile at Maeve
- it was obvious to both of them that it could be quite some time before they
both had less pressing issues.

“Indeed.  I would like that very much, Captain.  Until then.”
Maeve said.

“Until then.”

Christine watched the interplay between the two of them - Captain Carmag and
Maeve.  It was obvious, at least to her, that they carried a torch for
each other.  Who would have thought it?  Hard as nails Maeve has
the hots for a charming knight working in a city - instead of some sneaky
bastard working in intelligence.  Weird.   And he seems to like
her too.

Maeve led the others to the courtyard away from the moongate, and the others
followed her quietly.  I am glad they’re following my instructions,
she thought, feeling a flush go to her cheeks.  But I bet I’m going to
get some questions over that little meeting.   It wasn’t often
Maeve was smitten or embarrassed in public, but it seemed perhaps this was one
of them.

“Now what?”  Asked Kai.  “Was getting to your house important?”

“Not really.” Maeve said.  “It gave us a place to figure out what happened
next.  It seems that choice has been taken from us.   I did want
to send a message to an ally - but there are other ways of doing that if
necessary.”

“So now we wait?”  Christine said.  “What is this priory we’re being
taken to?”

“It’s a religious retreat - a small monastery dedicated to one of our
saints.  It’s about an hours walk outside of Arathel and Orovar, in the
hills around the two cities.   The monks of the priory grow grapes
that are made into a number of popular local wines.   It’s near some
farms - not the middle of nowhere, but remote enough that I think our foe will
feel safe enough to make his move.”

I still don’t like this plan, Christine thought.  But I’ll be
damned if I can think of a better alternative.  Erica still Isn’t ready to
try taking us back home, and Maeve was right, dammit.  I don’t know where
we could hide, or who we could or couldn’t trust.  We don’t really have a
choice here.

The group of them settled down to wait for their escorts.

*
*          *

Sir Andred watched the gate from a discreet distance.  He had been asked -
told, actually - to leave the area around the moongate, so that Captain Carmag
could escort important personages when they arrived.   Now that’s
a job I’d like to have one day - Captain of the guard for the King and Queen of
Arathel and Orovar.  I can’t begin to think of the political connections
he must have to hold a post like that - while I get placed in a backwoods town
like Ogden.   I guess its just the luck of the draw - my parents
weren’t nobles - I earned my post through deeds and actions, not family
connections.   Still, he must be half-decent to make Vigilant of the
Third Circle, so maybe I’m being too harsh and the good captain earned his post
here too?  It wouldn’t be the first time a scion of a wealthy family
actually accomplished something by himself, instead of living off his parent’s
name.

Andred smirked at his musings.  You’re here for something more
important, Andred - don’t be a fool.  Besides, I’ll bet that sir
fancy-pants over there hasn’t had an Angel of the Twins appear to HIM to
dispense a holy mission, so who has the higher rank in reality,
hmm?   I’m on a mission from the Gods themselves.  A cushy job
and great pay is nothing compared to the importance of why I was sent here.

Sir Andred’s vigil ended a short while later, when the moongate suddenly began
to glow; a few moments later, Maeve and her friends had arrived.   He
saw Captain Carmag greet them, and hear his request to move away from the
gate.    At last!  Maybe she can fill me in on what’s
going on - before their escorts arrive.   Sir Andred left his
hidden nook, and approached Maeve and the others, drawing his cloak around him
for warmth.

*
*          *

“Hsst!  Someone’s coming.”  Kai whispered.

“I see him.”  Maeve said.  “You - who goes there?”

The approaching figure stopped and held up his hand, and pulled back the hood
of his cloak.   “It is Sir Andred, late of Ogden town.   I
mean no harm - but I would speak with you Maeve, if you have a moment.”

Maeve looked a little surprised at the sight of Sir Andred - mostly because she
had put him out of her mind, in the ‘not currently relevant’ category - which
was obviously mistaken.   A quick look at Kai and the others showed
they looked rather surprised as well, and Erica looked a little worried
too.  “We can speak.  What seems to be the problem, Sir Andred?”

“Quietly, Serra, if you please.  What I have to ask is not such that it
would do for others to hear it.”   Andred looked more than a little
furtive - and it was plain he didn’t want to be overheard.

Whatever’s got him bothered must be either embarrassing or sensitive,
Maeve thought.  Why else would he leave Ogden town for
Arathel.   He can’t have remained in Ogden long after we left, to get
here so quickly.  He has the look of someone who has been waiting for a
long while.   “I can lower my voice, Sir Andred, but if you wish
for privacy I suggest you hurry - a number of guards will be arriving soon to
escort us outside the city.”

“Very well, I’ll come to the point.  An Angel sent by the Twins told me
one of the Hierarchs was Bishop Vargas’ master, and a Hserinyar - and sent me
here to kill him.  He told me you know who it is, and that I should seek
you out to discover the truth.  He also charged me with protecting Erica
from the corrupted Hierarch’s machinations.  I must ask if you know who it
is.”  Kai made a symbol of blessing, upon hearing of the Angel.

Sir Andred didn’t look like he was joking - in fact he looked deadly
serious.   Maeve didn’t waste time debating if Sir Andred’s claims
were true or not - the fact was if he knew about the corrupted Hierarch, he was
either the hierarchs agent - which was unlikely - or he had been visited by
Divine influence.   Either way, this conversation needed to be
protected from prying eyes and ears.   Maeve entered her Nairya, and
wove a quick spell of warding using Sight.  “I’m not totally sure, Sir
Andred.  I have my suspicions, but suspicions are not enough to accuse a
Hierarch.  My plan was to use Erica as bait - then strike when he made his
move.   I believe he will strike when we are outside of the city, at
the priory of Saint Jillian of the Meadow.”

Sir Andred nodded.  “Do you harbor any suspicions?  Even lacking
proof, I would hear them.”

Maeve pondered the request a moment.  What harm could it do?  He
doesn’t strike me as a stupid man - He’s not going to toss his life away on a
suicidal charge... is he?   “Do I have your word you will not
strike, until I have proof of the traitor’s identity?  Do you swear on the
Skyfather and Mother?”

“Aye.  Now tell me quickly, before your minders come.”   Sir
Andred looked more than a little impatient.

“Hierarch Donal Blaine.”  Maeve whispered the name; even though the area was
warded against spells, Captain Carmag and the men and women under his command
weren’t that far off.   One carelessly overloud phrase could be
disastrous if it was overheard.

Sir Andred didn’t have time to respond - a group of ten men - city guards it
seemed, from their uniforms and chain shirts - had approached and addressed the
group.   “Is this the group of Maeve Varda?”  One of the men
asked.

Maeve looked at the others, and nodded.  “It is.”

The city guard nodded back.  “Good.  I am Watch-captain
Drostan.  We are to escort you to Saint Jillian’s priory
immediately.   Are you ready to leave?”

“I believe so.”  Maeve said, motioning for Sir Andred to join
them.   The watch-captain didn’t seem to realize there had only been
four people in her group - not five, so perhaps that would lend them an
advantage?    She smiled inwardly as Sir Andred fell in behind
them.

“Then let us be off.  It’s nearly ten bells now - and it’ll be well after
midnight before the rest of my men and I get back to the city, especially if we
dawdle.”   The watch-captain didn’t look like he was particularly
annoyed or pleased with the duty at hand - he was just eager for it to be done
so he could get back to his usual tasks.  His men looked much the same.

Their group made good time through the city streets of Arathel - the night
streets had little traffic, and what traffic there was quickly made way for a
large patrol of guards.   It took perhaps fifteen minutes to walk
through the city and reach the city gates.   The whole time,
Christine and Erica were looking around the city with their eyes agog at all
the sights and strangeness compared to their world.

The buildings were similar to those of Wethom - the lower floors made of
fieldstone and mortar, with the upper floors being made of wood and
plaster.  The difference was that there were many more floors on average,
than in Wethom - the buildings were taller, and the streets a bit narrower.
It made the city seem to loom overhead.  It wasn’t a stifling warren - but
it did seem crowded compared to Wethom.  Erica and Christine did see signs
of a sewer system, like in Wethom, and the city seemed clean as could be
expected.  It also looked to be at least six times the size of Wethom -
perhaps more.   Kai was not so amazed - he had been to Arathel once
before, and disliked the experience somewhat.   It was too busy, too
closed in, too full of people - like an anthill made of stone.

Once outside the city gates and away from the torches and lights of the city,
the landscape around the city was lit by the multi-colored light of the
moons.  Only Doviar and Selene were in the night sky - Doviar was full,
and Selene waning - and the greenish silver light they gave off together
blended into one another and cast many shadows across the ground.
There was ample light to see the road by - but making out details in the shapes
and shadows only a few dozen yards from the road was very difficult.

Running beside the city was a great river.  Christine figured it was
easily of a size with the Mississippi river - she’d been on the river once on a
riverboat trip with her mom, and it seemed similar in size to the river running
between Arathel, and another city across the river, on the other bank.
Both cities were built on hills on either side of the river. “What’s
that?”  She asked.  “Is that more of Arathel?”

One of the guards snorted.  “Outlanders, eh?   No - that’s
Orovar, the twin city to Arathel, and home of the King and Queen of Orvan.”

Maeve joined in.  “Orovar and Arathel are called The Twin Cities” - and
Orvan is the name of this Kingdom.   The King and Queen of Orvan owe
allegiance to the Fireannor and Muireanne, but otherwise run their Kingdom as
they wish.  The Council of Hierarchs, however, serves all of Valris - not
just Orvan; the center of their power is in Arathel, where we just left.”

“How come you never mentioned Orovar before now?”  Erica asked.

“Ummm... because it never came up?   I figured I’d be telling you
when it was important - and I guess now is that time.  I couldn’t tell you
everything - I wouldn’t know where to start.”  Maeve shrugged
apologetically.

“Fair enough.”  Erica smiled.  Its true - she couldn’t possibly
tell us everything.  Arathel is even more impressive than Wethom - but
man, I would hate to see what happens when there’s a fire, with those houses
built so close to one another.   Maybe they use magic to stop
fires?  It would make sense, I guess.

And Sir Andred says he met an angel!  I was kind of worried he was
going to put me on some sort of pedestal, but now He’s seen an angel.  Why
do the Gods show themselves here, but not at home?  Or is it we’re too
blind to see it?  I wonder.  I should ask him about his meeting -
maybe compare notes.   I get the impression he wants to talk to me as
well.

They walked down the cobbled road, descending the great hill that Arathel was
built upon, towards the farms and vineyards outside the city.  The road
itself was well maintained, and lined with ancient and majestic trees.  It
was quite attractive - and the countryside seemed pleasant and rural to
Christine and Erica’s eyes - like something you might see in the rural France
on television - but the strange shadow-play caused by the two moons cast
everything with ominous shadows that made every dark corner or nook seem
imposing with the possibility of lurking danger.

I suppose you get used to it, Erica thought about the moonlight.
It is pretty strange.   I wonder what the priory is going to be like
- hell, I wonder if any of us will survive tonight.   I hope Maeve
can pull off her plan.  Erica continued her musings, alternately
worrying about the plan, and wondering if they were going to survive, for some
time as they trudged along the road.  Strangely, she wasn’t getting
herself into a panic - instead, she felt a distanced from it.   The
guards weren’t particularly talkative, and the others seemed
subdued.   I guess I’m just adjusting to the crazy things we’ve
been doing since we got here?  If I think I’m worried about the plan, I’ll
bet Christine is practically chewing her fingernails off.

Christine was worried - although her fingernails were still whole.  She
couldn’t put her worries into words - it was more like a nameless dread that
Maeve’s plan would go balls up and everything would be lost.   She
knew it was the best option - but she couldn’t help but think that there must
be something Maeve hadn’t thought of - or that fate for some reason, would turn
against them.  There are so many things that could go wrong with this
plan, its not funny.  She thought.  The what-if’s of all the things
that could go wrong were driving her crazy, so she stamped down on them,
swallowed the sick feeling in her stomach, and kept walking.

Kai and Maeve on the other hand, were neither worrying themselves nor wasting
time with fear and nameless dread.  Both of their senses were alert, and
their eyes watched the sides of the road for ambush or attack, even though they
were surrounded by city watchmen.  Both studied the shadows with the
practised look of people long accustomed to danger, who saved their energy for
things they could do or affect, and didn’t waste it on needless
worry.

The guards travelling with them were relatively complacent - they didn’t seem
to expect attack, and neither did they detect the nervousness of their charges,
nor Maeve and Kai’s alertness.   They gave the distinct impression
they were here to ferry their charges to the priory - and that was
all.    That’s good, at least.  Maeve thought.
The guards themselves aren’t likely to be agents of the Hierarch - so if
there’s to be an attack, it’ll come from outside our group - or at the priory
itself.

Maeve’s musings were cut short by one of the guards speaking up. “That building
there, at the base of the hill, is Saint Jillian’s priory.  The farms
along side it belong to yeoman farmers, I think - but the fields surrounding
the priory are their vinyards and fields.”   The building that the
guard indicated was the priory was fairly large, even at this distance.
It looked to have only two floors - but it was sprawled out over a fairly large
area, and looked to have at least one basement or cellar.   The
fields surrounding the priory seemed to be mostly vineyards, but one quarter of
the fields seemed reserved for more common vegetables, probably to help
supplement the diets of the monks living in the priory.   The priory
grounds were surrounded by a low stone wall - perhaps six feet in height.
Unlike many of the walls surrounding the noble villas in Wethom or Arathel, it
didn’t seem to have shards of broken pottery or glass embedded in the top of
the wall - so the monks were obviously not too concerned with the idea of
sneak-thieves climbing over their walls.

The road switched back more than once as they descended a series of steep
hillsides to approach the priory.   The cobbled road was slick with
snowmelt, and several people slipped on the wet stones more than once - city
guards included.   By the time they had all descended to the base of
the steep hill, at least half of them were nursing a sore rump or barked
knee.   Kai had to move cautiously to make sure the horse didn’t slip
and do itself some serious damage, but even he and the horse eventually made it
safely to the bottom.

“I’d hate to see what that hill is like in winter, when its covered with
ice.”  Erica said.

A few of the guards chuckled, and captain Drostan chimed in.  “If we were
coming out in icy weather, we wouldn’t dare make the climb without spikes on
our boots.   And I daresay getting down that hill would be a lot
easier than climbing back up it in such weather.”   The captain put a
fair bit of humor in his comment - so it was more of a joke than
grousing.  He was obviously in better humor now that they had practically
reached the priory - he and his men would soon be returning to Arathel.

A few minutes later, they reached the closed gates of the priory’s
wall.   Watch-captain Drostan rang the brass bell dangling from a
hook, and a few moments later, a small wooden window the size of a breadbox
opened in the side of the wooden gates shutting the priory off from the outer
world.   A man was on the other side of the window - but it was hard
to get a decent look - and a voice called out “State your business, then!”

Captain Drostan replied.  “I’m watch-captain Drostan - and I’ve escorted
the party of Maeve Varda under the orders of the Council of Hierarchs to your
premises.  Would you kindly open the door, and take care of these fine
people so me and my men can be on our ways?”

“Sorry good captain.”  The voice called.  “Can’t be too careful when
you’re outside the city walls, now can you?”   The window closed, and
a few moments later, the gate gave sounds of being un-barred.  The doors
opened to reveal a monk dressed in a brown robe, roughly in his late
thirties.  He looked brawny and fit - probably from working the
fields.  “I’m brother Graham.   Consider your duty done, captain
- I’ll take care of your charges from here.   Did you wish to come
inside to rest a moment?”

Captain Drostan shook his head.  “My thanks, but no - the weather is still
good, for Rainfall, and the sooner we leave, to sooner we’ll be back in
Arathel, finding a warm meal and a bed to rest in.”

“Then may the Gods be with you, good captain.”  Brother Graham said.
“As for the rest of you, come in, come in.”   Brother Graham motioned
for Maeve, Erica and the others to come inside.   The soldiers from
the city turned and left, and Brother Graham closed the wooden doors to the
priory and re-barred the gates.

“Come with me.”  He said.  “The Abbot is looking forward to meeting
with you.  We’ve been expecting you for days now.”

“The Abbot is up at such a late hour?”  Kai asked.

“No - but he asked to be woken whenever you arrived.  I imagine he’ll
introduce himself and speak with all for a short while, and then we’ll be
finding rooms for all of you for your stay with us.   I imagine
you’ll get better acquainted with the Abbot tomorrow, once everyone’s had a
good nights sleep.”

Kai and Maeve nodded, and the others fell in beside them.  Brother Graham
lead them towards the priory itself - and it seemed one section of the huge
sprawling building was reserved for a stables.   A young acolyte came
and took charge of Kai’s horse, leading him to a stall to be cleaned and fed,
while Brother Graham led the others to the doors of the priory.  Brother
Graham fumbled at his belt for a ring of keys, and unlocked the door - and in
another moment or two, they were inside.

Chapter 23 - The Priory of St.
Jillian

The group of them stood in what appeared to be a large hallway, liberally
blessed with doors.  The floor was made of attractive slate tiles worn
smooth by countless feet, and the walls were liberally decorated with
tapestries and wall-hangings, which depicted scenes that appeared to be from
some sort of history or scripture.  The hall was dimly lit by a pair of
small lanterns hanging on hooks at either end of the hall - for a moment, Maeve
and her company were blinded until their eyes adjusted to the dimmer light.

Once inside, Brother Graham said “A moment, while I fetch someone to wake the
Abbot.”   He walked down to a door about halfway down the hall and knocked
quietly.  A few moments later, the others could hear him whispering to the
person on the other side of the door - and then he came back.  “I went and
woke Brother Flavius.  He’s new to the priory, and thus gets the honor of
waking in the middle of the night.   He’ll fetch the Abbot straight
away.”

“And what do we do until then?”  Maeve asked kindly.  “We’ve come a
long way - is there somewhere to sit perhaps?   Erica’s stamina is
somewhat less than we hoped, and I’m sure she is - as we all are - tired.”

“The great hall would be best, I think.”  Brother Graham said.
“Right now we are in the dormitory - so quietly, if you please.”  He led
the way down the hallway to the left, and so the others followed.
The hallway was quite long - perhaps a hundred feet - with at least six doors
on each side breaking up the parade of wall-hangings.  The hallway turned
right and passed what seemed to be a pantry and kitchen on the right, and a
large store-room full of barrels on the left, before entering the great
hall.

The great hall was probably the largest single room in the entire building - it
looked like it could easily seat eighty - perhaps twice that if they squeezed -
and which could be used as an auditorium if needed as well.  One end of
the great hall was raised - like a stage in a theatre - and the walls of this
chamber were high - perhaps twelve to fifteen feet tall, decorated with
elaborate wall hangings like the hallway they saw before.   At the
end of the great hall above the stage hung a wall hanging depicting the holy
symbols of Isundal, Askeline and the Twins, in gold on a field of green
cloth.   The hall itself held several long trestle tables, lined with
benches.

Brother Graham motioned towards the benches.  “Sit yourselves down,
wherever you wish.  I’ll be heading back to the gates - I’m sure the Abbot
will be along shortly.”   Brother Graham lit a small lantern to light
their table, then turned, and headed back the way they had come.
The light from the single lantern cast many dark imposing shadows around the
room.

“They’re awfully trusting.”  Kai said.

“You’re assuming we’re not being watched.”  Maeve answered quietly.
“Patience.  They’ll come for us when they’re ready.”

Christine and Erica sat with a thump, and Christine rubbed her sore feet.
The blisters she had suffered from almost two weeks ago had long since healed,
but they were still sore from all the walking - she was too used to driving her
car.   Erica on the other hand was glad to just rest.  Her feet
ached, her legs ached, and her back ached.  She honestly felt almost dead
on her feet - her head still felt full of cotton from learning the Word of
Sight.

“I’m just glad to be off my feet, for now.”  Christine said.

“Agreed.”  Erica answered.

“Best not get too comfortable.”  Sir Andred quipped.  “We have no
idea what tonight will bring us.   If we can, we should keep our edge
- and our wits about us.”

Kai and Maeve sat down as well.  “Might as well take a load off, for the
moment, Sir Andred.   What harm is there in soothing ones aching feet
as long as we stay alert?”

Andred smiled.  “I suppose there is that.”  He also sat, making sure
he had a clear view of the main entrance - Kai and Maeve, on opposite sides of
the table had clear views of the other entrances.

A few minutes later one of the doors opposite the way they came in opened -
probably from the other wing of the priory - and in came what appeared to be
the Abbot and two female acolytes, each carrying a lantern.   The
acolytes were wearing simple white robes, while the Abbot was wearing a white
robe decorated with gold and red trim, over what appeared to be a
nightshirt.   Most of the jewellery and ornaments that would go with
his official robes and duties, were noticeably absent.

“Welcome to Saint Jillian’s.”  He said.  “I am Abbot Niall Thurston -
and one of you is Maeve Varda...”  He looked over the group of travellers,
as if trying to decide who was who.

Maeve and the others stood, out of respect for the Abbot.   “I am
Maeve.”  She said.   “This is my guide, Kai - and the man across
from him is Sir Andred of Ogden.  These two ladies are Christine, and
Erica.”

“Well met!”  Abbot Thurston said.  “Am I to believe that Erica is the
dreamer the Council wrote to me about?   They have a great many
questions, as do I.”

“She is, reverend father, although I suspect she is very tired.”

“As are we all at this hour, I expect.”  Abbot Thurston said kindly.
He walked around the table, to get a better look at Erica.  “Do you have
any idea of the theological firestorm you’ve created by waking up, young lady?”

“Ummm...  No, reverend father, I don’t.”  Erica said, trying to copy
Maeve’s honorific.

“Well suffice it to say it’s a big one.  Big enough that the Fireannor and
Muireanne are coming to Arathel to discuss it with the Council of
Hierarchs.  I imagine you might even be taken to speak with them, if they
request it.   My job, while you’re here, is to record your story -
and ask you some questions which I hope you can answer, about a great many
things.”   The abbot was apparently satisfied with his examination of
Erica, because he stood, and slapped his thighs.  “But such questions can
wait until tomorrow.  I would like to hear your entire tale - all of
you.  I understand it dovetails with some unpleasant business regarding
the late Bishop Vargas - and knowing the whole tale might help me determine how
Erica’s role plays a part in all this.”

“That would be fine, revered father.”  Maeve said.  “But if we are to
wait until tomorrow, could I suggest that we be given some beds - we have
travelled a very long way today.”

“Beds would be fine, Serra Varda!  I have some all set out and ready -
although I was led to believe that there would be four of you, not five.”

“Sir Andred is a late addition to our group, reverend father - and one whose
role plays into our tale as well.”

“Very well.”  The abbot said.  “Come with me, please.”  The
abbot led the group through another hallway, similar to the one they entered
the great hall from, but which had a richly made thick carpet of crimson and
blue running the length of the hall.  There were noticeably fewer doors as
well - one room appeared to be a small private library, and another a small
chapel - while others purposes were unknown, their doors being
shut.   They rounded the corner, and soon came to an area of the
priory reserved for guests.   “This suite of rooms is yours, for the
duration of your stay here.”  The abbot said.  “It is well appointed
- and you will find it both warm and comfortable.   The brothers and
sisters of the priory wake early, but breakfast will not be served until nine
bells.”

“Thank you, reverend father.”  Maeve said.  “I’m sure the rooms will
be excellent.”

“Then good night to you all - until tomorrow.”  The abbot nodded his head
politely, and left, his two acolytes in tow.   He looked like he was
both eager and curious to hear what they all had to say about recent events.

Maeve motioned for everyone to head into the suite, and then closed the door
behind them.  “We should probably get some rest.”  She said.
“Although keeping a person on watch might be prudent.”

Sir Andred nodded.  “Wise, especially if we discover we’re in a den of
vipers.  I will watch first.”

The suite itself was spacious and, like the abbot had said, well
appointed.  The floor was carpeted with beautiful handmade rugs - some
from far Iranor.  The walls were painted a nice color of blue, and
decorated with elaborate wooden and plaster trim.  The suite had three
rooms radiating off of a central salon or public room, in which there were
numerous chairs, divans, and tables.   Many of the chairs were
stuffed, and looked quite comfortable.   The bedrooms looked equally
well appointed as well - each having a large four-posted bed that could easily
sleep two people, along with the dressers, night-tables and washstands you
might expect.  The main room also had a luxurious bathroom with indoor
plumbing, although the water didn’t appear to be heated, to Christine’s
disappointment.

Maeve took one room, while Erica and Christine another, and Kai the last.
Soon, they were getting ready for sleep - although for some, sleep came easier
than others.  Christine and Erica, despite their misgivings, fell asleep
quickly from their exhaustion.   Kai drifted off soon after - he,
like Maeve had been a soldier of sorts at one time, and knew of the value of
sleep when it was possible.   Maeve on the other hand felt sleep
elude her for some time.

Will they make their move tonight, or later?  I wish I knew!  It
has to be soon, or else the Fireannor and Muireanne might call for Erica and
myself - which takes us out of the trap Hierarch Blaine placed us
in.   Are the monks in on the plan - or are they as unawares as the
Hierarch supposes us to be?   She sighed, trying to expel the
stress keeping her awake.   Sir Andred is an unexpected ally in
all this.   I do believe he saw an Angel - how else could he have
known what he did?   No - it’s a sign, is what it is - a sign that
the gods are with us!   Eventually, even Maeve could not stress
enough to stay awake, and she too drifted off to sleep.

*
*          *

Maeve was woken to the sound of bells, and a gentle knock on her bedroom door.
Bolting upright, she found herself reaching for the dagger she had placed under
the pillow by sheer reaction.  Sun leached into the room from behind thick
curtains.  “What... what time is it?  Why wasn’t I woken for my
watch?”  She said, looking at Kai, standing in the doorway.

Kai laughed.  “It’s alright, Maeve.  Andred and I did the watches
last night - we didn’t get here till late, and so much of the night had already
passed.  I thought I’d let you sleep a little, since you’ll need your wits
about you today.  You can pull a double watch tonight if you feel guilty.”

Maeve shook her head.  It was true - she would need her wits today - but
it was just like Kai to do something kind like that, even if it robbed him of
some much needed sleep.  He puts too little value on his own well being
sometimes, Maeve thought.   He needs to stop being so damned
noble and share the load a little.

“Thanks, Kai.”  She said.  “What time is it?”

“The chapel just rang nine bells - breakfast is in the great hall.”

The thought of food made her stomach grumble.  “I’ll be out in a
minute.  Close the damn door.”

Kai laughed again, and closed the door so Maeve could dress.  The others
were already awake - although Sir Andred still looked a little tired from his
watch last night.  And no wonder too, Kai thought.  He said
He’s been standing watch for eighteen hours a day at the moongate in Arathel,
awaiting our arrival.  He must be exhausted.   I know the
Knights Vigilant are able to endure great fatigue and duress, but even he must
have been taxed waiting for us.

“Is Maeve coming, Kai?”  Erica called out.  She was trying to braid
her hair for breakfast - and even though her early attempts were kind of ropey
and odd-shaped, even Kai - who was no expert on braided hair - could see she
was getting better.

“Yeah, soon.”  Kai said.  “She’s just waking up.  Give her a few
minutes and she’ll be with us.”

“I think I love this place, so far.”  Christine said, with a silly
grin.  “It’s the first place I’ve seen with indoor plumbing and a sort of
flush toilet.   You know, this stuff is so common back home everyone
has one in their home or apartment.”

Kai laughed.  “Maybe I’ll see it one day... Your magical homeland, where
hot water is piped to every room in the house, and food is magically delivered
to your door so you never have to walk to the market.  And everyone has
one of those cars that drives fast enough to scare the wits out of
Maeve.”

It was obvious Kai was trying to exaggerate, and play up the strangeness of
what he thought Christine and Erica’s world was like - but it was equally
obvious that he didn’t know how close to the truth his joking statements
were.   Erica smiled at the irony, unwilling to spoil Kai’s joke.
“Maybe you will, Kai.  You did say you didn’t think you’d like it though.”

“True.  But Maeve and I asked for you to give us a second chance - maybe I
should do the same?”  Kai laughed.  “As long as I had a way home, I
think I wouldn’t mind seeing your home for a short while.”

Christine tried to not laugh at the idea of Kai, in his leather armor and furs,
carrying his recurved bow and wickedly sharp shortsword, walking into the
Eaton’s center in downtown Toronto.   I pity the rent-a-cops that
try to apprehend him, she thought.  Although I’ll bet he has no
idea what a Taser is.   Either way, it wouldn’t end well for anyone.

Sir Andred was obviously lost, trying to follow most of the conversation.
“I take it some of this will make sense, once I hear the whole of your tale
later today?”

“Maybe.”  Kai said.  “Some of it doesn’t make sense even to us.”

Maeve’s door opened, and she walked into the room, dressed in clean
comfortable clothing - a woolen skirt, with a cotton shirt and a leather vest;
her sword was scabbarded at her hip as well.  “Well, we had better not keep
the Abbot waiting... who wants to eat?”

*
*          *

“...and so from there, we travelled back to Ogden-town, where Maeve and her
band parted ways with me.  They said they were heading to Wethom, and then
to Arathel; I on the other hand lingered in Ogden-town for some time, before my
doubts and concerns about a Dreamer waking, drove me to meet up with Erica and
the others in Arathel.   I had hoped to talk with her about her
experience with the goddess to put my doubts to rest.”

Sir Andred finished his speech - the last of a great many said that day in the
abbot’s chambers.   Maeve, Kai, Erica and Christine had been closeted
with Abbot Thurston, Sir Andred, and two acolytes - a Sister Caitrin and Sister
Tamara for the better part of a day.   Sisters Caitrin and Tamara had
taken turns writing down every word that was said by Maeve and her friends -
and they were obviously tired and sore - just like everyone else in the room.

Abbot Thurston looked very surprised at the tale - and had looked shocked when
told about Erica and Christine’s world on the far end of the Void.  Even
Sir Andred had perked his ears up over that - he had never heard the entire
tale before today.   It was apparently giving both him and the Abbot
something to think about.

Abbot Thurston apparently had a few more questions, however.  “Did
anything happen, between your leaving for Wethom and your arrival at
Arathel?   Any more divine revelations?”

“No, reverend father.”  Said Erica, following Maeve’s coaching.
“Although Christine and I did get to go to church in Wethom.  It was very
different from our home.  I sometimes envy the close relationship you have
with your gods - the gods on my world are very distant, and rarely make
themselves know to people.   We met a Reechi - there aren’t any such
creatures or people like that on our world either.   I did keep my
thoughts and ideas about what happened with my vision in this journal.”
She said, pulling out her ‘goddess journal’ as she called it.  “Its
written in my native language, so if you want a copy of it, I might need to get
someone to write it down later.”

“Another time, I think - but yes, I would greatly desire to have a copy of your
journal.  Thank you, Serra Helstrome.”  The abbot stood, and brushed
some crumbs from his hands - they had all been snacking on tiny tidbits brought
to them by the monks in the kitchen, along with small glasses of the fine wine
crafted by the priory, sometime this afternoon.   “I think though,
that I must end our discussion for today - dinner will be fast approaching, and
I’m sure you would all like to get cleaned up somewhat before dinner.  You
have given me much to think on.  I am also equally disturbed at Bishop
Vargas’ heresy and treason.  I will pray later for guidance on the matter
- if one so highly regarded by the church can be turned, then who amongst us is
immune to the temptation of sin?  Perhaps none of us - and that is a
rather sobering thought.”

“Thank you, reverend father, for hearing our story.”  Maeve said,
standing.

“And thank you all, for the telling of it.”  Abbot Thurston said.
“I’ll see you all at dinner - but until then, if you would excuse me?”

With that, they left the Abbot’s office, and headed back to their suite of
rooms.  No one spoke on the way - Sir Andred was still mulling over the
truth behind Erica and Christine, and the others had been coached to silence by
Maeve before arriving.   They only spoke of their plan behind closed
doors - and only once Maeve had warded the room.

Once back at their suite, they visibly relaxed.  Maeve quickly cast a
spell to ensure their privacy, and lay down on a fluffy stuffed
divan.   “I should get one of these.”  She said to no one in
particular.   “But knowing me, I’d never be at home to enjoy it.”

“Have you ever thought of quitting, Maeve?”  Erica asked.

“Yes, a couple of times.   But I keep telling myself this is a young
girls game, and I won’t be young forever.  Eventually I’ll get too slow,
or too whatever, and it’ll be time to settle down to a more normal life.
Assuming I survive, I think I’ll eventually retire to do something more
normal... maybe I’ll open a shop of strange curios and enchanted items - like
some of the stuff I’ve found on my adventures.  You know, cater to people
like me with unusual needs.”

Kai snorted.  “Gods help the burglar who tries to steal from that
shop!   He’ll wish he was dead before you’re through.”

Maeve laughed too.  “Probably.  Still, I figure I need to have an
exit plan for when this work gets too rough, and a shop like that seems like a
pretty good idea.  I’ve got enough money saved to set it up - I just need
to spend the time and effort to do it... both of which I lack while I spy for
the Council.”

Sir Andred laughed at their comments as well.  “No - I don’t see you as a
shopkeeper, Maeve.  You like this life too much - I can see it in your
eyes.  You live for things like this.  I’ve seen similar looks in
soldiers, born and bred to battle like no one else.  Those that accepted
it, did well - and those that couldn’t accept it tried to retire and live a
civilian life.  Almost to a man, they couldn’t deal with it - the normal
life bored them, and so they filled their life with drinking, or fighting,
trying to relive their days when they took life by the throat and lived on the
edge.  No - I don’t see you running a shop in your elder years...  Maybe
training new recruits and teaching them the ways of stealth and subterfuge -
but not keeping a store.”

Maeve considered what Andred said.  Maybe He’s right.  She
thought.  Maybe I’m not the kind of person to try and settle
down.  I guess I won’t know until I try - and I’ve never been one to give
up on a dream because it might be hard.   “Perhaps, Sir
Andred.  Perhaps.  But I think I’ll find out one day, all the same.”

Meanwhile, Christine and Erica had gone to the bathroom to clean up - and Kai
was waiting patiently for them to finish.

“Perhaps you should have had less of the Abbot’s fine wine?”  Maeve
laughed.

“Perhaps.”  Kai said through clenched teeth.  “I could eat,
though.  Those little tidbits he had brought in tasted good, but left a
lot to be desired when it comes to filling ones stomach - and those breaded
peppers filled with cream cheese aren’t sitting well with me.”

“You’d better hurry girls!”  Maeve called.

“We’re done, we’re done.”  Erica said as she and Christine came out of the
bathroom.  She even held the door for Kai, who thanked them both
profusely.  “Go.”  She said, then came out to the common room.
Kai didn’t wait for a second invitation, and disappeared into the bathroom.

“When do you think they’ll make their move?”  Christine asked.

“Soon - in the next day or two.   I’ve been wondering how they’ll do
it though.  Unless the monks here are all traitors - a hard thing to
fathom, seeing as how there are at least fifty monks here, I’m guessing that
either the Hierarch will come visit with some helpers - probably skilled
fighters or guards - to question you, and he’ll strike during his visit - or
he’ll send agents to capture you and take you somewhere where he can question you.
We’re as prepared as we can be for the second event - but the first we might
need to plan a bit for.   If he wishes to speak with you privately,
for example, you must ask for one of us - Andred, Kai or myself to be with
you.  You don’t want to be alone with him for any length of time.
Insist on it, if you have to.”

“Why is it so important to not be alone with him?”  Erica asked.

“Because he might try to read your mind with magic, and discover exactly what
we don’t want him to discover.  Kai can tell when someone is casting a
spell - I’ve shown him what to look for.  I obviously know when someone is
casting a spell - and I daresay Sir Andred has some abilities in detecting evil
magic as a Knight Vigilant.   We need to know when he attempts it,
because that would be the proof we seek.”

“And then I can strike him down.”  Sir Andred said.   “And if it
is not Donal Blaine, like you suspect, if one of us is close to you, we’ll be
able to react no matter who the viper turns out to be.”

“We should finish getting cleaned up once Kai is done in there.”  Maeve
said.  “Dinner will be ready shortly - and I imagine that there is a good
possibility of mandatory prayers being held with dinner.  Also, I imagine
Sister Caitrin and Tamara are going to want you to tell them what’s in your
goddess journal, either tonight or tomorrow as well, Erica.”

“Fantastic.”  Erica said.  “I can’t believe how tiring it is to sit
in a chair all day and talk.  I feel worse than when we walked to the
moongate.  Seriously, I’m beat.”

“Try working as a front-line social worker for a year or two and tell me how
tired you feel at the end of the day.”  Christine said.  “Most people
feel chewed up and spit out after all that.  I know I did.”

“And yet you still do it, don’t you?”  Maeve asked.

Christine nodded.  “I do - there’s a lot of people who need help out
there.  There’s unfortunately a lot of people who abuse the help that’s
offered too - which makes my job difficult at times - but I think in the end
its worth it.  It is very tiring some days, though.”

Kai finally emerged from the bathroom, looking cleaned up, and like he was
feeling considerably better.  Before anyone could comment further, the
chapel bell pealed out six times - the call to evening prayer and
dinner.   They could hear the monks in the hall outside their suite
heading towards the great hall.  Some of them were chatting, and others
conversing quietly, their words a simple murmur behind the closed doors of the
suite.

“I suppose we’d better go.”  Said Maeve.  “It would be odd if we
didn’t come to dinner.  You ready to eat something, Kai?”

“As long as it’s not breaded, or with cream cheese, then hells yes.”  Kai
headed to the door of the suite, holding it for Maeve, Erica and
Christine.

Their laughter followed them down the hall, as they walked towards the great
hall for dinner.

*
*          *

Hierarch Donal Blaine disliked hiding in basements.  He knew he was meant
for bigger and better things - but sometimes, there was sufficient need to do
something out of the ordinary.   Around him were twelve men and women
wearing the garb of monks - all recent additions to the monastery.  All
his disciples - followers of Hrask and the Hserinyar - and all Fallen.
Their magic allowed them the ability to disguise themselves, and made them a
potent force for use by the Hierarch - which was fortunate, because in the
likely occasion that things came to blows, they would be ready.  They
weren’t all competent swordsmen - but they all knew a bit about magic, and some
a lot more than a bit.   None of them were Vargas’s equal, the
Hierarch thought, but maybe in several years some of them would come close.

I know I could walk into the monastery and demand to talk to the girl.
But if I did, there could be a link back to me - especially if Maeve or her
friends should suddenly die of mysterious causes.  Or of any causes.
And since its unlikely I’ll be able to get the information from her willingly,
I have to go to these ridiculous lengths to get it.   How
undignified.   Hierarch Blaine was frustrated from waiting here most
of the afternoon - in a wine cellar two floors beneath the main priory.
Fortunately, He’s spend some of the day studying old plans of the priory, and
was glad to see the secret passage he thought he’d remembered was where he
thought it had been.

“Brother Gaius - do you have ample supply of the drug to put in the dinner
meal?”

“I do, your eminence.”  Brother Gaius said.  “And Flavius has taken
steps to deal with the brothers and sisters in the dormitory wing.
Apparently, the Abbot will be giving out some of his wine stores this evening -
without his knowledge, of course - to celebrate their esteemed guests.
They’ll all be unconscious before ten bells ring.”

“Good.  Once the majority of the lay brethren are asleep, the rest of you
can subdue or kill the rest - and then join me down here for what comes
next.   You will join me, Gaius, in taking the girl Erica - we may
have to kill or disable one of her friends to do so.   Once we have
her, we bring her here - and then I can delve her to find her secrets.
And then we will know the secret of lost Tiamat!   Our return to
Hserin will be a triumph - and will signal the fall of the world of
men.   Nothing can stand in our way - go, prepare for tonight.
This world is Hrask’s.”

The fallen nodded, repeating the liturgy.  Tonight would be the end of
their long search – a search begun long ago at the beginning of history... They
could feel the momentous weight of fate and history revolving around
them.  They could not fail!   They dispersed, preparing any last
minute tasks before their trap was sprung.

*
*          *

It was about two hours later when they were able to return to their suite.
Evening prayers took an hour - apparently the monks opened each meal with a
hymn, followed by the reverend father giving a sermon, the topic of which was
how human hubris was the downfall of the arrogant and self
righteous.   Maeve couldn’t tell if the sermon was a subtle voicing
of the abbot’s opinion of their tale told that afternoon, or if it was
unrelated.  She didn’t hazard a guess.  Sometimes it doesn’t mean
anything - a cloud is just a cloud.

After prayers, dinner took an hour or more.   Dinner was bland but
filling - baked beans cooked in plenty of water like soup, a dish made of
seasonal vegetables, salted fish, cheese, bread, potatoes and fruit
juice.  The monks seemed to indicate this was their normal fare - but on
festival days the abbot apparently made available several bottles of the priory’s
vintages, as well as red meat as part of the celebration.   Maeve ate
sparingly, her stomach knotted with stress and anxiety.   None of the
others seemed to have any problems either - although Maeve noticed Erica picked
at her food - perhaps she was anxious as well?

Once back in their suite, Christine flopped down on a divan, obviously
tired.  Kai looked tired as well - and a bit claustrophobic.  He
paced around the room, looking like he was eager to be gone.  Maeve sat at
a table, and looked lost in thought, while Erica went to her pack and pulled
out her goddess journal to write some more thoughts down in it.  Sir
Andred went to his pack and got out some polishing rags, and started cleaning
his armor and weapons. After about a few minutes of pacing, Kai joined Sir
Andred.

Maeve felt it - felt that twinge she felt when something was going to
happen.  It would be tonight, she thought.  I’m not sure from
where, but my gut says it’s happening tonight.   She tried to
think about plans, contingencies, and realized that until the threat appeared,
there was absolutely nothing she could do to plan for it other than in the most
general terms.   I guess if a plan lasts for only twenty seconds after
contact with the enemy, there’s no use in crafting a polished gem of a plan to
be tossed unceremoniously in the trash.  In fact, quite the
opposite.  Maybe the problem now was over-planning?

“Everyone.”  Maeve said.  “I think tonight is the night - so everyone
should catch some sleep while they can.  I’m going to grab some sleep now
- Sir Andred, why don’t you go next, and then you Kai.  Someone stays with
Erica all the time.”

Christine looked a little miffed at being ignored - but she was realistic
enough to know how little use she would be in a fight - and when they might
only have a few seconds before an ambush, having someone who could make those
seconds count was important.   She didn’t have to LIKE it though!

The others nodded, and began to get ready for bed.  Soon, they were all in
their beds and sleeping - save for Erica and Sir Andred.   Erica was
writing in her goddess journal - and Sir Andred was still cleaning and
sharpening his blade.

Erica didn’t know what to write - she had been writing about how uncomfortable
it made her to be in church when people thought she was the woken
dreamer.  She felt like a fraud - she wasn’t a dreamer, really - she just
wore the body of one.  She felt like she was lying to the people, just by
being.  Erica didn’t like that.  It felt wrong.

“Sir Andred?”  She asked.

“Yes, Erica?”

“Do you think I’m lying to people, when people say I’m a dreamer that woke - I
mean, I wasn’t a dreamer.  The goddess just put me in the body of
one.  Isn’t that kind of lying?”   Erica was hoping for an
answer - but any insight would help her resolve the issue.  She yawned
quietly.

Sir Andred thought about it a moment, yawning in response to Erica’s
yawn.  “I don’t see how.   Maybe the goddess picked you to fill
the role of the Dreamer who woke?   It doesn’t say that you had to be
the same dreamer - nor that they had to be the same person.  I think most
people assume that - but that doesn’t make it true.   We often assume
the most likely circumstance.   Sir Andred paused to yawn.
“...but we often lack the information or knowledge to always guess the actual
truth.   I guess what I’m trying to say is that what other people
assume Isn’t your problem - your problem is discovering why you were chosen,
and what you intend to do about it.  Let the other people sort out what
they assume or don’t assume.”  Sir Andred yawned again.

“Thank you,” Erica said, before yawning herself.  “That sounds
like sage advice.  I can’t believe how tired I am.  Look how we’re
yawning.”

“Agreed - we’re yawning a great deal...  I feel a tiredness falling upon
me.”  He yawned again.

“Me as well...  I think I’m going to bed.  Will you be able to stay
awake?”

Sir Andred nodded.  “If I feel like fatigue will overtake me, I’ll wake
Maeve first.  I’ll watch over you in your room - we should stay close.”

Sir Andred gave her some space and privacy to change into her nightclothes, and
then Erica crawled into bed.  He came into the room, and sat on one of the
chairs - Christine was already unconscious and snoring quietly.
Erica lay in bed, and drowsily asked a few more questions.

“Andred... How do you feel about an angel visiting you?”

“I feel blessed and honored for one.”  Sir Andred said.  “I also feel
a great weight of responsibility - the task that was set before me was both
important and dangerous.  I’m scared I might not survive - but I’m more
scared that I’ll screw it up and be responsible for my country failing and my
gods and people suffering.   It’s terrifying and awe-inspiring at the
same time - and I feel like the gods are at my right hand, guiding it so that I
don’t fail - why else would they task me with such a responsibility?  They
want me to succeed.  Even with the fear of failure, and my fear of shaming
myself before them, the fact they must want me to succeed is very reassuring.”

He waited for an answer, or a comment - but it seemed Erica had already drifted
off to sleep.   I wonder how much she heard?  He
mused.  He stood watch for another hour, fighting the strange fatigue that
beset him.

All I have to do is keep from falling asleep myself... why am I so
tired?   Come to think of it, we were all very tired, which is damned
odd.  Sir Andred knew it wasn’t dark magic - he would have detected
it.  No - it was something else, but he couldn’t place it.  Food
poisoning?  No - no one was sick... poison of a more sinister
nature?   Impossible - they would have had to poison the entire
monastery...   A horrible sinking feeling penetrated Sir Andred’s
being.  Maybe they had.   He tried to stand, to get to
Maeve.  She may have a spell to banish the poison.  He thought
- but as he stood, his head swam and blackness took him as he passed out onto
the floor with a groan.

Sir Andred lay on the floor unconscious for perhaps a minute, before a hidden
door opened up in the wall beside the bed where Erica and Christine lay
sleeping, and three cloaked men came slinking out.   Two went to the
bed to grab Erica - while a third stood over Sir Andred with a blade drawn,
waiting for Sir Andred to move.  He did not.   A few moments
later, they took Erica, closed the hidden door, and were gone.

They carried Erica through the secret passage, down past two other landings,
down into the cellars of the priory.   It was slow going - the secret
stairs were rather steep, and they were being cautious not to drop or injure
her.   Eventually, they reached the basement cellar.

The room was well lit with lamps set about the room.  Barrels of fine wine
lined the walls, leaving an open space in the center of the room where a table
had been set up.   The Hierarch was waiting, as were most of the
other nine fallen.   The three fallen who had kidnapped Erica laid
her on the table, and lashed her to it with ropes.

“Good work.”  Hierarch Blaine said.  “Flavius is finishing with
upstairs - I expect he’ll be back shortly.  Gaius, good job on getting the
girl.  Did you have to kill anyone?”

“No, your eminence.  More’s the pity.”

“Indeed - but if necessary we can finish up with them later.  For now,
let’s keep our eyes on the real prize.”

“As you say, your eminence.”

Hierarch Blaine was wearing his ecclesiastic robes - but was also wearing his
black ring.   Nothing like a little distraction, if needed.
He thought.  Perhaps they’ll be so busy looking at the robes they’ll
miss my ring.  All the better if they do.   “Time to
begin.”  He said.

The Hierarch entered his Nairya, and spoke the word of Sight, warding the area
from scrying.  Then he cast a spell, and began delving into Erica’s drugged
mind.   Delving was usually more difficult - but the drug inhibited a
persons ability to resist mind magic as well as rendering them unconscious.

Where is the information I seek?  He asked.  Strange images
of objects and places the Hierarch didn’t recognize blurred past him - things
that flew in the air, tall buildings that reached for he sky - all made of
glass and steel.  It was amazing - but not what he was looking
for.

Delving deeper, he started to encounter some resistance.  This one is used
to resisting commands... strange.  I doubt she’s had practice resisting
domination - but even if she has, it won’t stop me.  The blur of images
started to slow - revealing pages of a book.  Erica’s mind said they were
children’s stories - and a box of colored light showed images of moving
dragons.  We’re getting closer!  He thought.  He could also
sense her starting to stir - to fight off the drug.

I need her to show me Tiamat before she fully wakes.   Show me,
child - SHOW ME TIAMAT!  The command was undeniable - and Erica’s
drugged mind couldn’t resist any longer.  A blur of images washed over the
Hierarch as Erica’s thoughts moved through his own...   He heard an
man on the colored box of light - a narrator, speaking in another language that
the Hierarch could somehow understand.   “... And so Marduk, the
sky-god slew Tiamat, and divided her body into two, forming the Heavens and the
Earth...”

She can’t show me Tiamat, he realized.  Her world is Tiamat - or
what remains of her.   If I can find her world....
“She knows where Tiamat lies...”  He said.   Show me how to
get to your world, child... SHOW ME!  Hierarch Blaine was so involved
in the interrogation, he wasn’t aware he was yelling aloud at the same time he
was command Erica mentally...

It was at that moment, that everything went to hell.

*
*          *

Maeve woke to the sound of a heavy thud.   Wakefulness was difficult
to achieve - she felt sluggish and slow, like her head was full of cotton
wool.  What was that noise?  Is it the attack?
Maeve tried to wake, and couldn’t get her head clear, even as she felt the
adrenaline of battle fill her.   Drugged... I must be drugged.
She thought as she tumbled out of bed.  She tried to enter her Nairya - it
took long moments, but she managed - and cast a spell to purge her system of
poisons.  In seconds, she felt better; more alert, more awake.
The spell burned as she cast it - Body magic was one of her weakest Words -
almost one of her Nulls - but it sufficed for now.   Thank the
gods I’m paranoid, she thought.   She thanked them, because she
habitually cast spells to neutralize poison before eating anywhere she didn’t
absolutely trust.   It had saved her life once in Rillian - and now
again, in the priory.

“Damn it.”  She said quietly, gasping at the pain.  She’d pay for
that later, she knew - and odds were she’d have to try it on Kai and the others
too.   Maeve grabbed her weapons, and moved for the main room as
quietly as she could.  Whatever made that noise might still be here.

She padded quietly to Erica’s door - it was shut, but she couldn’t hear
anything from beyond it - until she heard a tiny thump - like that of a door
closing.   But there aren’t any other doors in her room... or
doors that we could see, anyway...  Dammit!  A hidden passage!
Maeve pushed open the door to Erica’s room, to see Sir Andred on the floor,
unconscious, and Christine in the bed, unconscious as well.   Erica
was gone.

Without wasting a moment, Maeve crossed the room, and knelt by Sir
Andred.  Entering her Nairya, now that she was awake and clear headed was
childs-play, and a moment later her spell to purge venoms and drugs was cast;
Sir Andred started to stir.   She quickly did the same for Christine,
then left the room to cast the spell on Kai.   If I keep this up
all night, I’ll be staring down my Threshold pretty damn soon, she thought.
I’m going to need my magic tonight - I’d better spare what I can.

Kai stirred as he felt a hand touch his forehead.  It felt cool, and
feminine.  His thoughts were jumbled.  “Erica?”  No, he
thought.  Not Erica.  He opened his eyes to see Maeve standing
over him, looking worried and pissed off.  “What happened?”

“We were all drugged.  Erica’s gone.”  Maeve said.

“Shit!”  Kai jumped out of bed, and started pulling on his clothes and
weapons.  He was still groggy, but he could tell it was fading.  Maeve
must have purged the drug, thankfully.  I hope we’re not too late.
Erica!   Kai felt a sick feeling in his stomach - like he was going
to be ill - but it wasn’t the drug - it was from worry.

“I need to check on Sir Andred.”  Maeve said.  “Grab your stuff and
get ready - we probably don’t have much time.”  She left the room without
waiting to see if Kai did as instructed - she knew she could trust him to react
in a crisis.   It was time to call in some assistance, she
thought.   Maeve concentrated, and summoned her power - crafting a
sending was always difficult, if only for the distance involved.   I
only hope I haven’t guessed wrong about it being Hierarch Blaine, she thought.

Maeve called out with her mind, trying to touch her target’s mind.  It was
hard at first - the person she was seeking was asleep - but her mental knocking
woke her up.   She whispered “It’s time - Saint Jillian’s
Priory.  We need your help!”   Maeve could feel the mind on the
other end of the link hear, and acknowledge her call for help.  She let
the sending end.   Now if only I haven’t screwed up totally and
just asked the bad guys for backup, we should be okay, as long as we get to
Erica in time.

By the time she got back to Christine and Erica’s room, Sir Andred was on his
feet looking like his head was cleared, and Christine was getting up out of
bed.

“What’s going on?”  Christine asked.  “Where’s Erica?”

Sir Andred snarled.  “We were drugged - I felt it a few moments too
late.  They probably took her after we all blacked out.”

“Took her?  Took her where?”  Christine asked, starting to panic.

“A secret door.”  Maeve said.  “I heard it close just as I
woke.  Sir Andred, are you clear-headed?”

“Aye, enough for what needs doing.”  He said, snarling.  “Lets track
these bastards down and give them some steel.”

“Then let’s find where they took her.”  She moved to the wall, and started
searching it closely.  “Christine, you need to get up, and get
dressed.  We might need to move quickly and you need to stick close to us.”

“Right!”  Christine said, throwing clothes on as quickly as she
could.  “How could they drug us - are the monks in on it?”   She
looked into Erica’s backpack, and found her stolen police 9mm pistol.  I’d
better take that, just in case, she thought.

Sir Andred shook his head.  “I doubt it, lass - I suspect they have an
agent mixed among the novices and acolytes.  They probably drugged the
entire dinner meal.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire priory is
drugged into unconsciousness.”

Kai came into the room.  He looked angry enough to take someone’s face off
with his hatchet.  “I checked the hallway outside - there’s no one
around.  Without checking the rest of the rooms, I can’t tell if the monks
were part of this or not.”

“At this point it doesn’t matter, Kai.” Maeve said.  “We’ve got to find
Erica before whoever took her can find what He’s after.  Aha!”  Maeve
found a hidden catch behind one of the ornate pieces of trim in the room, and
pressed it - and a section of the wall shifted about an inch - enough for her
to grab it, and open up a door into a hidden passage between the walls of the
priory.  The hidden stairs descended down - presumably to one of the
priory’s cellars.

“Christine, stick close to us - but try to stay out of the fighting if you
can.   Do you have Erica’s pistol?”

“Yes.”  Christine said.  “I think it still has some bullets left.”

“Good, keep it close in case you need it.  Let’s go.”  Maeve said, a
grim determined look on her face.

The four of them crept down the stairs quietly and quickly - quicker than the
kidnappers had done so, since they weren’t carrying an unconscious
body.   When they reached the first landing, Maeve stopped.
“Damn.   Give me a moment - I need to see which way they went.”

“Save your spells.”  Kai said.  “The dust and their tracks show they
didn’t take this landing - we move on.”

“I knew I kept you around for a reason.”  Maeve said, smiling.
“C’mon.”

“And here I thought it was my charming good looks.”  Kai joked.

They descended another flight of steps, and came to the end of the
passage.  Maeve stopped them a moment, as she looked for the mechanism
that would open the secret door.   “Once I discover the latch to the
door, you and Sir Andred are going to need to go in there and bust some
heads.”  Maeve said.  “I’ll probably have to engage any
spellcasters.  Christine - do you think you can use that pistol well
enough to shoot people attacking me?”

“I... I don’t know.  I’ll try.”  Christine said.

“Good enough.”   Maeve said.

“May the Twins watch over us, and bless us in adversity!”  Sir Andred
prayed; Maeve didn’t know if it helped, but the prayer made her feel better -
like maybe the Twins were watching over them, at least a little.  It gave
her courage.

“Aha - here it is.”  Maeve said, as she found the mechanism to open the
door.  “Get ready...”  She tensed up, ready to spring into action -
and she could feel the others do so too.  “Go!”

She shoved the door open - and Sir Andred and Kai rushed past her into the
room. Andred’s gleaming longsword and sturdy shield were at the ready, while
Kai had his bow ready with an arrow nocked.

The room beyond was about twenty paces long, and ten paces wide, with oak
barrels lining all of the walls.  A few passages and doors led in or out
of the room, and it was fairly well lit - the scent of beeswax candles was
strong in the air.   In the room’s center, Hierarch Donal Blaine
stood, screaming at Erica groggy, half-awake form, while surrounded by twelve
men and women who had obviously fallen to the Call of Hrask.

“Show me how to get to your world, child... SHOW ME!”  The Hierarch
yelled.   Erica tried to say something - but it was lost in Sir
Andred’s battle cry, and the sound of Kai’s bowstring snapping.

One
of the fallen dropped instantly, an arrow in his left eye. Then, Sir Andred
charged, and cut another down with a slash from his heavy sword.

Maeve took in the scene - ten fallen left; odds were most of them spellcasters
- and the Hierarch himself.   She couldn’t help but notice the black
ring on his left hand.   “Christine, fire a few shots into the crowd
of fallen - and try not to hit Kai and Andred.  Save the rest of the
bullets for anyone coming close to us.”  She yelled, going into her
Nairya.  He’s trying to delve Erica’s mind - I’ve got to try and
distract him, if I can’t stop him!

Let’s see if this gets his attention!   Maeve thought, as she
cast a spell, sending a blast of mental energy towards the
Hierarch.   She spared a moment to disguise her and Christine’s
location with a minor illusion as well - it made sense to Maeve to not be where
your enemies think you are.

The blast slammed into Hierarch Blaine, and he screamed in anger and pain,
nearly dropping prone from her unexpected attack.  He gasped from the
shock, and yelled to his fallen minions “Kill them - kill them all!”
Blaine then stood, and raised a magical shield, even as another spell-blast
from Maeve came rocketing in.

Meanwhile the rest of the chamber had erupted into chaos - three of the fallen
had engaged Sir Andred in melee, and were trying to cut their way past his
prodigious defence.  Another three were casting spells - fire and ice
magic, for the most part - at Kai - while the other two were advancing on Maeve
and Christine.  The remaining two were trying to protect the Hierarch,
adding their strength to the magical wards surrounding their master.

Sir Andred blocked and parried the flurry of attacks coming at him - three
attackers at once was difficult at best to defend against - and these were far
from ideal conditions.  He groaned as one of their blades got past his
shield and cut into his chainmail armor.  He could feel the sting of
steel, and feel blood running down his shoulder.  A light hit, at best.
He thought.  Good.   He swung towards one of the fallen -
but at the last moment, reversed his swing and cut at another one - the trick
worked, and he buried his blade to the hilt in the side of the fallen.  He
wrenched the blade out, blood fountaining everywhere as the blade came
free.   One down... two to go.

Kai tried to get another shot off, but had to dive for cover as three magical
bolts of fire and ice came flying towards his position.  He heard
Christine’s pistol fire once, twice, then a third time - and one of the fallen
on Kai screamed and fell, blood fountaining out of his shattered left shoulder.
He screamed twice more, and went limp - Kai couldn’t tell if he was dead or
unconscious, and really didn’t care either way.

The other two fallen approaching Maeve and Christine drew swords and moved to
attack - but their blades found only the illusion Maeve had crafted to disguise
their location.  “A trick!”  One of them yelled.  “Get
them!”   They turned and charged Christine, who was kneeling and
holding the gun with both hands, trying to aim at the charging serpent-men.

Maeve hurled another blast at Blaine and his two fallen minions - but their
magical shield held.  Dammit - with both of them protecting him, I
can’t break through!  She could see Erica behind Hierarch Blaine,
trying to break free from the ropes binding her.  Come on!  She
thought.  Use your head, Erica!

*
*          *

Erica came to, feeling groggy, and hearing a voice scream in her head,
demanding she tell it how to find her world in the Void.  She tried to
fight it - fought with every iota of strength she had - but the will of the
voice in her head was too strong.  She could feel she was tied up at her
wrists and ankles, tied rather uncomfortably to a wooden table.  All
around her, she could see and hear the sounds of battle - Kai was dodging
magical blasts of energy, while Erica heard gunshots and screams of the
injured.  Maeve was hurling blasts of mental energy, which were being
blocked by a magical barrier, probably made by the two serpent men nearest her
- and an older man in elaborate church robes was standing over her - obviously
the source of the mental voice commanding her.   A part of her mind
thought this must be the corrupted Hierarch - but the part of her withering
under his searching gaze was compelled to relive the way through the Void.

She tried to fight it - but the evil sorcerer’s will was too strong.
Against her will, she felt herself reliving the first time she translated to
the Void - she could hear Norm and Dave dying - smell them burning - and then
the second time, when she was consumed by terror under the attack of the demon
Maeve called an Uttuku.  She felt him rummage around in her memories -
watching her follow the link binding the old him - Eric - to the dreamer on
Mercia, and she screamed in frustration.  Damn him for making me see
that again!  Norm... Dave!  God dammit!   He
knows!  He knows where Earth is!

Indeed, the Hierarch laughed, dropping Erica - she was useless to him
now.  “Gaius, Flavius - I have what I need.”  He said.  “So
let’s kill these fools and be done with it.”

“With pleasure.”  The fallen called Gaius said.  “We’ll keep the
shield up - destroy them at your leisure, your eminence.”

I have to get untied... I’ve got to try and stop him.  Erica
thought, while trying to test her bonds.  It was no good - even if she’d
been a great deal stronger, the ropes were too new, and too thick to break out
of.   Maybe I’m using the wrong muscles?  She
thought.  She tried to concentrate - to make the ropes listen to her
commands.  She whispered a Word of Binding - and could feel the knots in
the ropes - all made of hundreds of tiny strands of hemp.  She teased the
fibers apart, loosening the knots - pulling them apart with magic.  One by
one the knots fell loose - and she knew she could shrug free of the ropes at
any moment.   As the spell faded, she also felt the wash of fatigue
sweep over her - like a wave of tiredness that threatened to catapult her back
into unconsciousness - but this time it felt less intense, like perhaps she was
getting used to the feeling.   Maybe I’m getting better?
She thought.

Meanwhile, she heard the screams and cries of injured men and women - and saw
her friends were fighting for their lives.  Kai had put one more fallen
down with an arrow in his chest - the fallen was alive, but unable to fight
back from the pain of his injury - his screams filled the room.  Sir
Andred bled from a half-dozen small wounds, even as his cleaving blows sundered
the sword of one of his foes, and carved into its chest, spraying him in its
lifeblood.   Hierarch Blaine sent a bolt of magical fire towards
Maeve - which missed only due to Maeve’s defensive illusions, and Christine
fired off the last of the bullets at the two approaching fallen, unleashing
five - maybe six shots.   Erica could have sworn Christine was
looking away from her target when she shot - like she didn’t want to see the
carnage that she was inflicting, screaming in terror as she fired.
One of her targets was hit by two of the shots - the first took him in the
right wrist, nearly severing his right hand - the second hit took him in the
face, and he died instantly.

“Enough of this!”  The Hierarch yelled, and held up his hand, holding a
knife made of magical fire - held over Erica’s prone body.  “Drop your
weapons and surrender, or I kill her.”

Maeve paused - she knew if she surrendered, they were all as good as dead...
But maybe we can play for time, pull some trick out of the woodwork.  If
we don’t surrender, he’ll kill Erica right now.  Maeve felt sick - a
few weeks ago, she’d have killed Erica herself to save Blaine the trouble - but
since she’d met Eric - now Erica, she’d felt a bond growing between them, along
with a growing feeling she associated with her little brother Nile.  She
couldn’t risk her getting hurt - not when there was still a chance.
Maeve dropped her sword, and let her spell-shield drop.

When Kai and Sir Andred saw Maeve drop her defences, they did as
well.   Kai dropped his bow, snarling.  “If any of you hurt her,
I swear I’ll kill you.”

Erica was torn between dismay and an odd sense of elation, when she heard Kai
utter his threat.   “No - kill him!”  She yelled.
“Don’t worry about me!”   She would have said more, but one of the
fallen - Gaius, she thought, punched her in the face so hard she nearly blacked
out.   Her head fell hard to the table, and she had to fight to keep
from losing consciousness.   The bastard Gaius turned away from her,
to look back at what he considered serious combatants.

“So kill me, human.”  Gaius mocked, laughing when Kai could only snarl in
futile rage.

Hierarch Blaine looked over the bloody tableau where their battle had been so
recently taking place.  Seven of his fallen were dead or dying - a small
price for the ultimate victory!   “We are going to take Erica with
us, out of this priory - and you are going to stay here.  If we see any
evidence of being followed or spied upon - mundane or magical - she dies
instantly.   We’ll release her when we’re free and clear.
Do you agree?”

“Do we have a choice, you bastard?”  Kai yelled.

Maeve tried to calm him...  “It’s Erica’s only chance - we need to do what
he says.”

What the fuck are they doing?  Erica thought.  Why aren’t
they killing him?  Me?  Oh HELL no - there is no way I’m going to be
some stupid victimized damsel in distress.  I’m not going to be
responsible for all of us losing and this evil son of a bitch destroying their
world and mine.  Hell no!

Sir Andred glared in impotent fury.  He didn’t mind sacrificing himself
for his cause - for slaying the traitor in the church, as the angel had said -
but the angel also said to protect Erica.  He couldn’t sacrifice her to
stop Hierarch Blaine.   “There will be another time, villain.
Pray we do not meet again - for if we do, you will breath your last.”

“I’m sure.” Hierarch Blaine said drolly, turning to their ersatz leader, Maeve.
“I know how you got this far Maeve - how you tried to kill Vargas, and screwed
up everything we had been planning for almost a decade...  That I
understand.  What I don’t understand is when he summoned the second
demon... how did you defeat it?”

Maeve saw Erica’s eyes blaze with fury, and saw the ropes fall away from her
wrists and ankles, as she stood up behind the Hierarch and his two fallen
minions.   She knew Kai and the others could see it too.
She saw power build on Erica’s hands, and smirked.   “You don’t
understand, Blaine.”  Maeve taunted.  “I didn’t defeat the demon...
she did.”   She looked past the Hierarch, towards Erica.

Hierarch Blaine was confused for a moment - then realized Maeve meant
Erica!  He whirled, chanting a barrier spell - only to see her standing,
unbound a few yards away, her hand glowing with incredibly bright
greenish-white light - and then he was engulfed.   The destructive
light tore at his shield, shredding it like it was soft wood - and then it buckled
and all he felt was pain... like every part of his was trying to tear itself in
two, down to the smallest fragment.  He screamed as the light consumed
him, and for him, everything went black.

For Erica, on the other hand, the spell went perfectly - she knew what to do,
from the last time - but she realized she had pulled far too much power, which
was probably why she got hurt so badly last time - so this time she drew far
less.  Anvi isn’t here to save me this time - and dammit, I don’t want
to die.  She thought.  But this guy is going down!
As the spell ended, she screamed as horrible pain clamped down on her head like
the worst headache she’d ever had, with spots flashing in front of her eyes.
Crippling fatigue washed over her, and the pain stopped - she blacked out,
unconscious.

Everyone else however stood in shock, except perhaps Maeve, who had seen this
once before.  The greenish-white light struck the Hierarch, and he glowed
from the impact of it, shimmering like he was on fire and lit from within by a
bright light.  Pieces of the Hierarch shredded and fell off - turned to
dust by the magical power of whatever spell Erica had cast.   It
looked to Christine like he had been hit by one of those weapons on Star trek -
the ones that disintegrated what they hit...  Except Hierarch Blaine
didn’t disintegrate - at least, not all of him.  He screamed, and what was
left of him fell to the ground, either dead or unconscious.

Everyone stood for a moment in pure shock - at the amazement of what had just
happened.  Then the moment passed, and a lot of things happened at
once.  Erica fell the floor, unconscious - Maeve could tell she was hurt
by the casting of her spell - but how badly she couldn’t tell.
Maeve ducked and rolled, trying to grab her sword - while Kai flipped his
hatchet out of his belt and threw it at one of the fallen - the fallen took the
axe in the chest and fell, blood burbling from the sucking chest wound, his
ribs crushed.   Sir Andred drew a dagger - and the fallen on him
slashed at him with his blade, cutting into Andred’s hastily raised
shield.

The Fallen called Flavius screamed to the others “Kill them!  Gaius and I
will get the master to safety!”    His cohort Gaius grabbed the
body of Hierarch Blaine, and made for the near wall, opening a secret door -
one different from the one Maeve and the others had come into the cellar room
by, while Flavius covered their retreat.

“Stop them!”  Maeve called out.  “We can’t let them get away!”
She leapt out of her roll with her blade in her hand, and stood ready before
the last fallen near her and Christine.  Christine hid behind Maeve,
frightened but unwilling to flee.   The fallen - this one a woman -
readied her blade, and chanted a word - and Maeve saw the blade glow with earth
magic...  She’d seen such enchantments before - they usually made the
weapon uncannily sharp.  So I suppose the secret is not getting stabbed
in the first place, huh?  Who’d have guessed?

Flavius and Gaius carried their defeated leader into the secret door, and
closed it behind them, effectively barring any pursuit, leaving only two fallen
left alive and functional in the cellar - the male fighting Sir Andred, and the
female facing off against Maeve.   They knew they were as good as
dead - but their role was to buy time, not survive, so they did the best they
could.   The fallen on Andred came in low and quick, stabbing around
Andred’s shield to his right flank...  A blow Andred could normally have
blocked with ease - but with his numerous wounds, not so easily done.  The
sword got around his defence, and stabbed into his coat of mail - but whether
or not it penetrated the sturdy steel links, he couldn’t tell, except by Sir
Andred’s groan of pain.

The other fallen moved towards Maeve, swinging her supernaturally sharp blade
in arcs before her.   “Go ahead, human - parry my strike.  My
blade will cut yours in half like butter.”  Maeve danced backwards,
staying out of its reach - forcing Christine back as well.

Maeve noticed they were running out of room to retreat into - when Kai’s arrow
took the serpent woman in the side of the neck.   She fell, coughing
up blood and choking on it - she dropped and fell prone... Maeve knew the
serpent woman only had seconds to live.   Seconds too long.
She thought, stepping on her neck, shoving the arrow in further and crushing
her larynx.  Way too long.

Meanwhile, Sir Andred roared with anger, smashing the fallen who stabbed him
with a blow from his shield.  The blow staggered the serpent man, who
stumbled back from the enraged knight vigilant, who slammed him again, and
again with the shield.   Then, while the serpent man stood there dazed
and almost unconscious, Andred stabbed him in the heart, ending
him.   The last fallen fell off his knife to land in a heap on the
floor.

Christine looked around and saw the carnage the recent battle had wrought - Kai
was scorched and frozen in a couple of places, and Sir Andred was cut several
times from the blades of the fallen.  Maeve looked like she was ready to
pass out from spellcasting fatigue - and Erica was on the floor, hurt - maybe
badly.  The dead and injured fallen lay on the floor, most of them bleeding
out the last few drops of lifesblood they possessed, while a few were moaning
in pain from their wounds, or else mercifully unconscious.  The entire
room smelled of blood and death...  And she was covered in the stink of
gunpowder and the blood and brains of the serpent man whose head she had blown
off.   It was too much.   The last Christine knew was the
floor rising to meet her as she fainted dead away.

Maeve saw where the secret door had sealed - the door through which the two
serpent men Gaius and Flavius had dragged the dead or injured Hierarch
Blaine.   “Sir Andred - over there!”  She pointed, and rushed
over to the sealed portal, searching for the hidden catch to open it, so they
could continue their pursuit.   Sir Andred rushed over and tried to
help her find the catch as well.

In the meantime, Kai rushed across the room to Erica.  Thank the gods!
He thought.  She looks like she’s still breathing!   He
picked her up, and checked her for any unseen wounds - there were
none.   Rather than put her back on the floor, he carried her
carefully back to the table, and lay her down on it.

The few seconds Kai had spent checking Erica were seconds well used by Andred
and Maeve - it took perhaps fifteen seconds for the two of them to find how to
open the door, now that they knew it was there - and together they surged into
the passage beyond... to find an empty chamber.  The blood trail from
Hierarch Blaine led to the center of the room - another cellar, lined with huge
oaken barrels - and ended in a circular ring of soot-stained ashes, about
fifteen feet in diameter.

“What in the gods’ name happened to them, Maeve?  Where are
they?”   Sir Andred was wild eyed with rage - if his wrath alone
could have struck down Hierarch Blaine, he would already be dead.
“I cannot fail the Angel!  They cannot escape!”

Maeve studied the circle, and cast a spell of detection.  She could feel
her threshold straining - like she was getting close, but for now she ignored
it.  I have to... We need to know what happened.   As the Sight
fell over her, she could sense the magical aura lingering around the circle of
soot, and began to study it.  “I haven’t ever seen this exact aura.”
Maeve said.  “In fact the only thing that comes close is... what Erica did
to get here.   I think they somehow used magic to teleport
away.  They are beyond our reach.  I’m sorry, Sir Andred.”

“NO!   Damn it - I can’t fail in this!  I was entrusted by an
Angel to see him dead!”   Sir Andred was obviously upset - his rage
more directed at himself, for failing in his duty, than directed at Maeve or
her friends.  “I failed...  I failed the Angel.”   He fell
to his knees, and dropped his dagger and shield, tears dripping down his
face.   “May the gods forgive me.”

Maeve didn’t know what to say.  Teleportation was a magic long thought
lost - it certainly hadn’t been seen in over a thousand years.   The
idea that they could teleport one individual, let alone three at once, was
astonishing.   Then again, so was whatever Erica had done to
Blaine.  Blaine and the two serpent men could be literally anywhere on
Mercia.  They’re gone.

She clasped her hand on Sir Andred’s shoulder as a sign of support, and went to
see how Erica was - she might need medical attention.    She
could only pray Hierarch Blaine died from his wounds.

*
*          *

All Donal Blaine could feel was pain and fire...  Every nerve felt like it
had been seared with a hot iron, and he could feel flesh, burnt to bits,
crumbling from him with every step his Fallen servants took.   He
knew he was a dead man - it would be a miracle if he survived the
night.   We were so close, he thought.  To fail
now?  Damn that Maeve and damn her friends too!  What kind of magic
did the girl Erica possess to do what she did?  Impossible!

The Fallen soldiers Gaius and Flavius carried the crippled and dying Hierarch
into a lavish sitting room.  A table in the back was shrouded in shadows,
and a single man sat there, concealed by the dark.  Even wounded as he
was, Donal Blaine could feel his presence from across the room.  Who is
he?  What is he doing here?  Has one of the Masters come?

His questions were soon answered, when he heard Bishop Vargas’ voice emerge
from the shadowed booth.  “It seems we have both underestimated Maeve and
her friends.”   He stood and walked forward.  “Did you learn
what we need?”   Vargas’s eyes were unusually intense, and he seemed
hale enough for someone who narrowly escaped death recently, although
unnaturally aged.

“I have... and I’ll be happy to relay it, once you fetch some healing potions,
Vargas!”   Hierarch Blaine’s voice was full of pain and suffering.

Vargas Elm’s dark laughter sent a chill through both the Hierarch and his
Fallen guards.   “I am not your lackey to command, Donal.  You
may have been higher ranked than I in the church, but you were never my
superior.”   He walked over to Donal - and the two Fallen stepped
back, awed and afraid.  “Tell me what you know, or I will take it by
force.”

“Why?  We’re on the same team...”  Donal asked in confusion.
“We both want Hrask to succeed, to destroy the gods of Man - why betray
me?”   Donal knew that once Vargas knew Erica’s secret, his life
would end.

“Because, like Holy Hrask, I don’t share power.  I will be the one to wake
Tiamat and return her to Hrask - not you.   It will be me reaping the
rewards of our god - not you, and not us.  Just me.  I will use his
grace to raise my love, Awai - and we will change Mercia forever.
You never once figured into the equation, Blaine.   The fact you
never even suspected it shows how foolish you were.”

Bishop Vargas summoned his magical strength - much of it had returned since his
dramatic loss several days ago at the House of Broken Dreams - and drilled into
Donal Blaine’s mind...  In the Hierarch’s weakened state, it was child’s
play to retrieve what he needed.   When it was over, he used the same
spell he used to read his mind, to cause the Hierarch to forget how to
breath.  It was over quickly.

Vargas walked over to the dead Hierarch, and found what was left of his
hand.  He pulled, and in a moment a black iron ring came off just as the
finger that wore it pulled free.  Vargas took the ring, and put it
on.   “At last.”   He clenched his fist in triumph.
“I have a Black Ring once more.   Victory is within our grasp!”
He said to the Fallen.  “Tell the others to begin the ritual - I intend to
be on this ‘Earth’ by tomorrow night.  Tiamat must be found.
This world is Hrasks!”

The Fallen bowed - and did as they were commanded.  Something had
obviously happened to Vargas while he was up north.   He was changed
- more powerful for sure - but also more determined.  More
zealous.   Driven.   They realized if this was not the
time, it never would be.  The ritual must begin.  They left to tell
their comrades.   By this time tomorrow, for the humans of Mercia,
the beginning of the end would be upon them.

Chapter 24 - Visitation

... so in the end, the Hierarch Lissa Brentworth showed up at the priory, and
found the great majority of the monks asleep - still drugged from whatever
poison the fallen disguised as monks had placed in that evening’s meal.
There was also evidence that many of the monks had partaken of drugged wine,
which aided in their subdual.   Sir Andred and Kai carried Christine
and myself out of the wine-cellars of the Priory, and Maeve attempted to track
the evil Hierarch with her few remaining dribbles of magical strength - to no
avail.

Hierarch Brentworth had sent two dozen men, plus two very skilled mages - at
least, Maeve seemed impressed with their talents... she said ‘They were as good
as she was at finding the truth’, which seems to be a compliment when coming
from her.   Maeve is proud of her talent with sight - so they must
have been pretty good.

A few of the fallen - the serpent men we fought in the basement - were still alive.
The mages used their magic to determine the truth of what happened here - they
also apparently questioned Kai, Maeve and Sir Andred, although I don’t know if
they used magic for that - Christine and I were still out cold.  Christine
woke fairly quickly - but I was out for another hour or two.  I’m told Kai
didn’t leave my side.  That’s sweet.

After the wizards working for Hierarch Brentworth reamed the minds of the
surviving two serpent men, it was pretty much accepted that Hierarch Donal Blaine
was a traitor, a worshipper of Hrask, a wearer of the Black Ring, and in
general a major asshole.  They had a harder time believing that Donal
Blaine’s henchmen - sorcerers of some skill, but not masters of the black ring
themselves - could craft a spell to teleport all three of them away... but the
fact remains that they’re gone.   Maeve couldn’t find his Ring,
either - so maybe he still has it, or maybe it disintegrated.  We found
most of his hand?

Maeve told the sorcerers that she thought Blaine could be dead, but wasn’t sure
- and really, that’s about as close as we can get to knowing.   Their
spellcasters cast all sorts of auguries and scrying magics - and all they could
tell was that he - or his body - seems to be warded from their sight, by a
greater power than they can bring to bear.

Apparently, Maeve says the Hierarchs are spreading the rumor that Hierarch
Donal Blaine died of a sudden illness.   I wondered why they would
lie - but Maeve said it was to protect the church’s reputation, so that people
didn’t lose confidence in the institution because of one deranged and evil
man.  And his apprentice.

We’ve been stuck here at Saint Jillian’s priory for the last two days, while
guards crawl all over the place, searching for clues.   I apparently
drew a little too much juice in my last blast, and wiped myself out - but I
didn’t go over my Threshold - so yay!   Seriously though, Maeve told
me not to do that again unless it’s a life or death situation, because that
kind of magic is too dangerous to use casually.   She seemed kinda
scared of it...   I hope its not that ‘harbinger of the apocalypse’
stuff again.   Maybe its something else?

Sir Andred has been really depressed - he feels he failed the angel.
Maeve and the others told him he fought well - but he doesn’t listen...  I
get the impression that he’s going to try and hunt him - I mean the corrupted
Hierarch - down.  I hope not - I don’t think it will end well for him,
especially if he goes it alone.   He knows no one has even the
slightest clue where to look - but he doesn’t care.   He says its his
duty.

Maeve explained the whole tale to Hierarch Brentworth - who apparently is
reporting all of what happened here back to the Council and their High King and
Queen.   Serra Brentworth wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Maeve
setting a trap for her peer - especially when he got away - but even she could
see that if Maeve had accused him, without proof, it would have likely meant
all of our deaths in the end.

Maeve and by proxy, Kai finally got paid - pretty well too, from the smiles
they got when they received their rewards.  Sir Andred turned down any
reward - he said until he had succeeded in slaying Hierarch Blaine, he deserved
none.  Even Christine and I got a reward - although I’m not sure where I
can spend a bag of silver and electrum coins once we go back home in a few
months - assuming I’m able to learn how.  What the hell is electrum made
of anyway?

The Hierarch said Maeve could stay and train me how to get home - which is
cool, I guess.  Apparently the Council agreed it was safer if I was gone -
although Serra Brentworth said no one would force me to leave if I wanted to
stay.  Now I suppose I have several months of practice before I know if
I’m ready to get Christine and I home.  I don’t even know if I want to go
home...  I miss Angie, but aside from her and Christine there’s literally
no one there for me.  I’m not counting dad - I think that’s pretty
obvious.  I’m more than a little conflicted about him, so I guess I do
have some unfinished business...  I’d like to say my goodbyes to Norm and
Dave, if nothing else.  They deserved far better than they got - and they
were better dads than my dad Anders could ever hope to be.

I still wonder who the girl whose body I now wear once was...  The church
officials are looking into it, but Maeve thinks the odds of them finding out is
fairly low - not impossible, just low.  After all, there probably aren’t
that many pretty red-headed girl mageborn dreamers in Valris about my age,
right?  Someone must remember the girl I once was... or
something.

Anyway, I think its time for sleep, so I need to finish up.  I’m learning
how to do magic tomorrow - how cool is that?  I’ll write again soon when I
have something useful to say.  Seeya soon, journal.”

Erica put the quill pen down and rubbed her cramped wrist.  This was the
third quill tonight she’d gone through writing down what had happened to them
in the last few days... bird quills were not that sturdy compared to the steel
nibbed pens or ballpoint pens she could have used on Earth.   She
blew on the page to help the ink to dry, and then tucked her goddess journal’
away for the night.   She was also starting to get some of Maeve’s
habits - she tucked the book into her backpack, not the dresser.  No
telling when we might need to leave quickly, after all.

“Done for the night?”  Asked Christine

“Yeah - my wrist is killing me.  I suppose I’ve got a big day tomorrow, with
my first official magic lesson and all.”   Erica grinned - she was
really looking forward to it too.

“That’s great!   The sooner you start learning, the sooner we get
home... That is, if you want to go home.”   Christine said, making a
question out of the statement.

“Of course I do, I guess.”  Said Erica.   “I don’t really know
what’s there for me, though, other than Angie and you.   What else
would I do?  Stay here?”

“You could, you know - after you take me home.”  Christine
said.   “You seem to like it here a lot better than I do - you might
be able to make it work.   I know a certain woodsman who might
appreciate your staying.”

“What?!  Kai?  Why would he want me to stay?”

“Think about what you said for a minute...  You’re a young and pretty girl
who likes the outdoors - and who apparently likes him enough to dive in front
of a firebolt meant to kill him.  Why the hell wouldn’t he like
you?   Whether you like it or not, He’s reacting to you as if you’re
a girl - and people back home are going to do it too, so you might as well get
used to the idea.”

“Oh my god... What do I do?”  Erica looked a bit panicked, like a deer
caught in the proverbial headlights.

“I suggest you sleep on it, and then do what makes you happy.”  Christine
said.  “Do what’s right for you.   The easy part is only you can
decide what that is - so no one can decide for you, unless you choose to let
them.   Angie would survive you coming back, I think.  I’d miss
you too, but to tell you the truth if I never see another spell-chucking maniac
or a snake man with a sword trying to kill us, it’ll be too soon.  This
place is too damn strange for me.  I want to go home.”

“Got your ballnut seeds and healing ointment?”  Erica asked.

“In my pack already kiddo, along with a pouch of wensin root seeds too.”
Christine smiled.   Even if I do lose my house, I’ll be sitting
pretty if these seeds will grow back home.  Sure I won’t be a social
worker - but I suppose millionaire all-natural homeopathic remedy tycoon is a
good replacement job.”

“I’ll do my best, Christine.  I know you want to go home - but Maeve’s
talking months, if not longer.”  Erica really was concerned - she knew Christine
didn’t like it here - and still felt guilty for getting her involved in the
first place.  “If I hadn’t brought Maeve to your house...”

“I know kiddo.  I know.  Frankly, as much as I want to get home now,
I’d rather we get home in one piece, and not eaten by demons.   I can
wait.”

“Thanks.”

Erica was pretty tired.   The last few days had been spent learning
how to fight with a knife and her fists with Kai and Sir Andred - Maeve had
been too busy dealing with the Hierarch and her sorcerers.   Her
muscles, such as they were, were sore all over, and bed seemed like a welcome
respite. Erica got ready for bed, and crawled under the sheets.  They
smelled nice - the sheets - like fresh flowers.   She didn’t realize
that the smell was her.   Soon, she was asleep.

*
*          *

Erica drifted asleep for some time, before she woke in what appeared to be a
dark room, lit by a silver glow.   The walls were shrouded in
darkness - there was no way to tell how big the room actually was - and the
floor appeared to be made of inky blackness.   Erica was standing
alone, in her nightgown, in the center of a circle of the silver light.
I must be dreaming.  She thought.  Where am I?

“You’re here with me, silly girl.”  A woman’s voice said.  The voice
was familiar - but somehow different from what she remembered.

Erica whirled around to see a beautiful woman in the prime of life - maybe late
twenties, early thirties.  She had long red hair and a full ripe body -
the kind that any man would kill for.  At her belt was a familiar set of
glass keys - although these ones were red, and in her hand she carried what
Erica figured must be a dagger at first, but what she soon realized were
elaborate scissors.  She went to one knee, and bowed her head.
“You’re the Goddess - one of the Ladies of Mercy, aren’t
you?”   She didn’t really have to ask - the beings force of
personality was immense - Erica knew nothing mortal could radiate the sheer
aura of power given off by the person in front of her.

“Yes.”  She said.  “You met me as Seleni, the maiden.  Now you
meet me as Thuria, the mother.  I can also be Doviar, the crone, when I
wish to be.”   She slowly walked over to Erica, and with a single
finger, lifted head up so that Erica was looking directly at her
face.   Somehow, Erica realized she was standing - she didn’t
remember standing.

“I need to ask you a favor, young Erica.  I need you to save my world and
yours from destruction.  The man you know as Vargas Elm has used ancient
magics to transport himself to your world, in order to resurrect Tiamat - one
of our greatest foes.  If she should be brought back, both my world and
yours would be laid to waste.  Will you help me?”

“But... we killed Vargas.  He’s dead.”  Erica said, surprised.
“What happened to Donal Blaine?”

“Vargas lives, if but barely - and only because he forged a pact with
dark forces.  Donal was betrayed by Vargas and slain.  Vargas Elm
must be stopped.  My question stands, little one.”

I... how do you say no to a Goddess?   “Of course...
It’s the least I could do, after you saved me, I mean, when I
died.”   Erica was finding it hard to not be overcome by her
presence.

“Erica, I didn’t save you - I just told you how to save yourself.
You and the girl who once was your host were tied so tightly together that when
you died, you were able to ‘move in’ to her empty shell like it was your
own.  I simply told you how.”

“I didn’t kill her did I?”  Erica asked, appalled at the idea.

“No - she was already gone.  The dreaming sickness had taken her - her
body was just waiting to die.  Now, in you, it has a new chance at
life.  You were always going to be the Dreamer that woke, Erica, whether
you died on Earth or elsewhere, you would have woken here - inside her.”
The goddess Thuria was speaking kindly, with her hand on Erica’s arm as if to
lend strength.

“Why me?”

“Why not?   You are brave.  Heroic.  Kind.  Willing to
accept change.  There are few who fit all those categories.
Would you rather it was different?   That I had not come to you?”

“I... no.  I don’t know.”  Erica was flustered.   “I don’t
know what you expect of me.”

“I expect you to be you.  To do your best, and save the worlds.
Nothing more.”

“I don’t know if I can.”  Erica knew Thuria wasn’t trying to force her -
although she was sure she could have.  She was speaking kindly and
gently.  She wanted Erica to choose herself.

“I know.  I don’t know if you can, either.  But I think you have to
try.”

“I know.”  Erica said.   “I’ll try.  I’ll try to stop him.”

Thuria smiled at hearing that, and a glorious glow fell over them both in her
joy.  “Thank you, my daughter.   I know your time here has been
filled with grief and pain - but I promise, I will make it up to you.
Should you succeed, your days will be long and fruitful, and filled with much
joy.  I will extend this blessing to any who choose to aid you, as
well.  Tomorrow at dusk, stand in the fields outside the priory and I will
take you across the Void myself, protecting you and any who travel with you
from the Demons who reside there.   I will also give you a final
gift...  If you should desire to return here to Mercia when your appointed
task is done, stand under a full moon and pray to me.  I will come for you
and those with you, and bring you home - but only the once, and in doing so I
will erase the memory of your home’s location in the Void from you, so that the
threat of Tiamat’s return is gone forever.”

Erica didn’t know what to say.  There was nothing to say.  She nodded
her head.

“Now sleep, my daughter.  It is time for change in the worlds of Mankind.”

Erica fell asleep at Thuria’s touch - and everything went black.

*
*          *

Erica woke to the sound of songbirds chirping on the windowsill of her
room.  The warm spring sun was streaming in through the curtains, lending
warmth to the sheets where she dozed...  Then suddenly, the dream she had
last night - no the visitation - crashed into her memory, and she jumped out of
bed like she was on fire.

Oh My God!  I talked to the Goddess again!  What the hell do I do?
Erica looked around - Christine wasn’t there; the door to the bedroom was
closed.  She could hear friendly voices on the other side.   I
have to tell them!  She thought.

Without thinking she pushed open the doors to her bedroom, and saw Kai and
Maeve, Erica and Sir Andred, all chatting and getting ready for the
day.   Kai smiled, and said “Hey, sleepyhead!”   Then they
all stopped and stared at her - like something was wrong.  They seemed...
perplexed.

“I talked to the goddess again!”  Erica said, excited and worried
all at once.  “Vargas Elm is alive - and He’s on Earth.  I’ve got to
go stop him and kill him before he can destroy both worlds.  And I’ve got
to go tonight.”

“What!?”  Christine exclaimed - as did Maeve, Kai and Andred.  Their
shock was evident - but they came to their senses quickly enough.  Maeve,
Kai and Sir Andred all made signs of the crescent moon, followed by their hand
over their heart - Erica guessed it was the Valdan version of a catholic
crossing themselves, back home.

“Vargas somehow survived the House of Broken Dreams and Christine shooting him
nine times, and found out where Earth is from Donal Blaine.  He killed
Blaine and went to Earth to find Tiamat himself.”

Sir Andred was the first to respond.  “If it will give me a chance to
redeem myself before the angel that tasked me with Blaine’s death, then I
volunteer my blade to your service, young Erica.  I swear I will not rest
in your defence, until Vargas Elm lies dead at our feet.”

Kai looked a bit over-awed.  “You saw her - actually talk to her?”

“Yeah, I know, right?”   Erica looked just as amazed as everyone else
around her did.

“You can’t do this alone.”  Maeve said.  It wasn’t a command - more
like a statement of fact.

“I... I know.  I was kind of hoping you and Kai would come and help
me.  I don’t think I can do it alone - or even just me and Sir
Andred.  No offence meant, Sir Andred.”

“None taken, lass.”  Sir Andred looked a little worried about facing the
threats of an alien world with just Erica at his side - but he didn’t look
remotely like he could be dissuaded.  He was going - and no force on
Mercia would stop him, without his death first.

Kai looked at Maeve, and grinned.  “In for a penny?”

Maeve grinned back.  “In for a pound.  You’re crazy, my friend.”

“Like you aren’t too.”  Kai said.  “We’re coming with too,
Erica.  You won’t be rid of me that easily.”

Thank god!  Erica thought.  I really didn’t know if I could
do it alone - or even with Sir Andred.  At least I feel we’ve got a chance
now.  “Thanks guys - I guess we all have some unfinished business with
Vargas, amongst other things.  I know I have some stuff I need to do once
we get back...  And hey, Christine - you get to go home without waiting
six months!  You won’t lose your house after all.”

Christine just stared, completely taken aback.  How was this
possible?  More gods... goddesses.  What the hell is going
on?   Does Erica even know she’s freaking glowing?
“Home?”   It was all she could get out - her mouth seemed paralysed
in shock.   “We’re going home?”

“Yeah, Christine - we’re going home.  We’re going to Earth.”

Erica,
Christine, Maeve, Sir Andred and Kai

will return in Call
of the Void part 2 – Dragons

Sneak Preview
follows!

SNEAK PREVIEW

The Call of the Void, Part 2 – Dragons

Chapter 1 - Preparations

“What do you mean we’re going home?” Christine asked.  “Like right
now!?”  She looked shocked - just last night she had been expecting it to
take months before she and Erica could return home to Earth - and to hear it
was far more immediate was well, pleasant - but it was also a big shock.

Erica groaned.  “No - not now.  Tonight.  Listen...  The
goddess Thuria just came to me while I was sleeping and said she would carry
myself and anyone who wanted to come with me to stop Vargas Elm - who you
didn’t kill, by the way - back to Earth tonight at dusk.  And she’d
protect us from the demons in the Void.”

“Vargas is alive?”  Sir Andred muttered.  “Bastard’s as tough to kill
as the demons he summons.”

“Too true.” Maeve replied.  She turned towards Erica, and motioned for her
to sit down.   “Sit, Erica - you’re practically babbling.
Vargas Elm still lives - he’s gone to your world, Earth - and we have a chance
to follow him.  That pretty much sums it up, if we leave out your habit of
talking to the Ladies of Mercy.”

“Yeah.”  Erica said, trying to calm down.  “Pretty much.
Why is everyone still staring at me?”  Erica watched her friends - and she
realized she wasn’t far wrong.  Sir Andred’s eyes hadn’t left her since
she burst into the room, and he was studying her with a fierce but disturbing
devotion, Christine and Maeve just looked surprised - and Kai, Kai looked awed
- and a little sad.

“You’re glowing, dummy.”  Christine said, pointing.  “Your head is
giving off light.”

“What the...?  Seriously?!”  Erica asked.

Kai, Maeve and the others nodded in agreement.  “You are glowing.”
Maeve said.  “The church calls it the Inner Light - it comes to people who
are especially holy, or who have a habit of communing with the
gods.   It’s supposed to be a powerful weapon and defence against the
forces of evil - and a sign that the individual is blessed of the gods.”

“What, like a halo?”  Christine asked.  “That’s impossible.”

“Apparently not here.”  Maeve said.  “Didn’t your people once have
these, when the gods used to speak with them?”

“Yes.”  Erica said.  “But I’m not a saint - I shouldn’t have a halo!”

Sir Andred smiled.  “Apparently the gods think otherwise, young
Erica.   Who are we to gainsay them?”

“I never asked for this... what do I do?”  Erica looked worried.  If
people back home see me like this I’ll get lynched for sure, she thought.
I sure won’t blend in anywhere.  What the hell am I going to do?

“I know ways to dim the glow, Erica.”  Andred said.  “They
teach all the holy orders the trick, in case the gods blessing should fall upon
someone in their care, or even amongst their order.   It won’t make
the power of the inner light go away - but it will allow you to move amongst
normal people without giving yourself away.  It isn’t too hard.”

“Thanks, Sir Andred - I think I need to learn that right away.”  Erica
said

“You think?”  Christine laughed.  “Good luck not causing a scene like
that at home.”

“Tell me about it.”  Erica looked stressed out just from the very idea.

“Come with me.”  Sir Andred told Erica.  “I can teach you to dim your
glow - but not in a crowd of talking people.  Come to my room and I’ll
begin.”

Erica nodded, and followed.

Meanwhile, Kai was watching Erica, and through his awe of how much she had been
blessed he felt a deep sadness.  Why does it hurt inside?  He
wondered.  I should be happy for her - proud I know her - and I am all
that, but I feel like I just got kicked in the gut, too.  She’s
leaving…forever.   Kai’s discomfort rose as the exchange between
Christine, Andred and Erica continued, so he quietly stood and left the
room.

Kai stepped into the hallway outside their suite of rooms.  The rest of
the monks at St. Jillians priory had given them ample privacy over the last few
days - remnants of their battle with the Hserinyar two weeks ago.   I
guess we all have a reputation of being ‘dangerous people’, Kai
mused.   Why in the seven hells am I so upset that Erica’s been
blessed by on high?  I should be happy, shouldn’t I?   So why do
I feel like the ground just dropped out from beneath me?   What’s
wrong with me?

Kai walked quietly to one of the doors that led to outside, and left the
Priory.  Outside the countryside showed the signs of spring.  Kai
took a deep breath, and inhaled the fresh country air.  Rainfall always
was a nice time of year, he thought.  I like it when the snow
finally melts and the trees start to bud.  It reminds me that winter ends,
and life can begin again.   He stood outside, looking at the
fields and vineyards for a while, leaning with is back to the side of the
priory.

Kai felt more than heard Maeve step up next to him, and lean back next to
him.   Maeve turned to him and nodded hello.  “Rough day?
You seem down, and its not even lunchtime yet.”

“I don’t know what kind of day it is.”  Kai answered, sounding more than a
little tired, and a little bit bitter.  “It’s not every day you see a new
saint.  She’ll be important – who am I?  A nobody.”

“You mean Erica, of course.  You sound like you wish it hadn’t
happened.  That she wasn’t blessed by the gods.”  Maeve smiled fondly
at her long time friend.  “Does it have something to do with the fact you
seem to like her?”

“What?  Of course I like her - she saved my life!  We all like her...
you as well.   I’m just a bit uncomfortable with her being so
accepted by the gods.  I feel like I’m not worthy to be in her presence.”

Maeve watched her friend a moment.  He really doesn’t see it, does
he?  She thought.  He’s smitten with Erica and he isn’t
admitting it to himself.  Maybe he isn’t ready to admit it.  “Why
- because she’s literally holier than thou?  She seemed to like your
presence earlier, the way she was blushing a few days ago - and don’t give me
‘that was then, this is now’ bull crap.  She doesn’t know our ways - she
might not even care...  She’s innocent, Kai - but its plain to see she
likes you too.   Why don’t you just relax a little and enjoy being
with her as a friend, and see what happens.”

Kai whirled around, an angry expression on his face.  “And what, exactly,
is going to happen, Maeve?   She’s leaving with Christine.  She
wants to go home.   We’ll find Vargas and kill him, and then be sent
home to Mercia - and neither of us will see Erica or Christine ever
again.   So tell me, what exactly is going to happen?”

Maeve backed up a step.  Holy smokes!  He’s pissed!  “Sorry
Kai...  Perhaps I should mind my own business?   I just thought
I’d try and see what’s wrong.”

“Perhaps you should, Maeve.”  Kai said.  “I need some time alone.”
He wheeled about, and walked off into the Priory’s vineyard.

Maeve was left standing there, wondering how to help her old
friend.   Kai, don’t give up hope you dummy.  She thought
fondly.  The goddess brought her back for a reason - not to be someone
venerated and put on a pedestal.  We might not know that reason yet - but
its got to be more than whatever you’re assuming.

*
*          *

Christine was left
alone in the sitting room.  Kai had left abruptly - and Maeve followed soon
after.  Erica had gone with Sir Andred - and she was all alone.  What
the hell just happened?  She thought.  Kai obviously wasn’t
happy with Erica’s halo.  Come to think of it, I’m not sure how I feel
about it either.  She snorted.  Can you imagine her walking
into a church in Toronto with that damn halo going?  Instant chaos - or an
old fashioned stoning, depending on the crowd.   Maybe she’d be
better off staying here instead of coming home?   She seems happier
here.

“I suppose I should go tell Abbot Thurston we’re leaving tonight.”  She
said to no one, and gathered her things.  “It’s better than sitting around
here all morning.”   Christine stood and left their suite, heading
into the hallways of the priory.  Like the night they arrived, the halls
were spartan and clean - but in the sunlight they shone with a warm glow... the
white stone was inviting, and the polished wood was warm and relaxing.  In
the distance, she could hear men and women singing what sounded like the Valdan
equivalent of Gregorian chants.   This place is beautiful, for
sure - but it’s not home.  I never thought I’d say it but I think I prefer
boring.  Boring and safe.   I’ll never bitch about a date being
too boring again, that’s for sure.

Christine saw a young female monk approaching - obviously on an errand.
She looked about 16 years old, and wore her hair long in a pony tail.  Her
church robes were white, trimmed in green and black, and she wore an wooden
amulet that looked like a green crescent moon - probably a holy symbol similar
to what priests wore back home.   “Excuse me, serra?”

“Yes, serra Vallan?”  The young woman asked.  “What can I do for you
- I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“I’m looking for the Abbot - I need to speak with him about something
private.”

“He’s in the wine cellar, supervising the clean-up.  Do you know the
way?”  The girl looked impatient - but waited for her answer all the
same.

“Thanks.  What’s your name, serra?”  Christine asked.

“I’m called Juniper, serra Vallan.  After the berries.   Will
that be all?”

“Yeah.  I know the way.  Thank you.”  Christine waved her thanks
and headed off - and Juniper did the same.   As she descended the
stairs to the wine cellar, Christine couldn’t help but reminisce a bit about
her time here.  Ninety per cent terror and ten per cent fun.
Sounds about right.   It’ll be good to get back home.

The Wine cellar looked very different during the day - monks were everywhere,
washing blood off of barrels and shelves, the stone cobbles and the wooden
trim.  After two days of such cleaning it was starting to look like maybe
a pitched battle hadn’t happened here a few days ago.   Abbot
Thurston’s white fringe of hair could be seen poking up behind a wine barrel -
so Christine maneuvered over to say hello.

“Excuse me, Abbot Thurston?”

Abbot Thurston turned, and began smiling.  “Ah, Serra Vallan.  How
are you and your friends doing today?”   Today the Abbot was wearing
his robe of office, along with a gold braided sash, a jewelled ring, and a gold
and silver braided black cap.   His holy symbol was that of a white
disc - showing his rank compared to the acolytes and novices.

“We’re doing well - really well.  There’s been a development.”
Christine said.  “Erica’s had another vision - and says we’re all leaving
here tonight to go back to our world.  She said the goddess herself would
take us home.”

The Abbot looked excited.  “Really!  Then perhaps I should go speak
with her, and Serra Varda.  I trust she’s writing all this down in her
goddess journal, as she calls it?”

“Every night for a few hours, or until her hands cramp up, yup.
She’s been really good with that.”

“Good, good.  Thank you Serra Vallan.  Please tell Erica I’d like to
see her soon and definitely before she leaves for home.  Do you think I
would be allowed to watch?”

“I honestly don’t know, revered father.  I don’t think any of us would
have a problem with it.  I can’t speak for your goddess.”  Christine
shrugged.

“Will you feel better, going back home my child?”  Abbot Thurston
asked.   “Since you’ve arrived here you have seemed ill at ease.”

“I have been ill at ease.  I’ve been scared witless, and nearly killed a
half-dozen times too.  I’ve seen some crazy wondrous things too - but I’d
trade it all to be safe and sound back home.   Your world is nice,
and it is beautiful, but its not for me.”

“I understand.  The Gods say that each persons task in life is to find
their place and make the best of it.  Some people never find their place,
and spend their whole lives looking, while some people never look for it in the
first place - and wonder why their life disappoints them.  If you’ve found
your place, Serra, then when you can reach it, make the best of it - and be
happy.  We are the gods children - and what parent doesn’t want their
children to be happy?   Sometimes I think my role is more to help
people find their place, than it is anything else.   I’m glad you at
least, know what yours is.  Some people never know.”

“Heh.  Perhaps, reverend father.  I’m not sure I know where my place
is, for sure... But I know where it isn’t - and it isn’t here on Mercia.
I’ll always have some fond memories of being here - but I hope time will erase
the tragic and frightening ones.”

“Time is a potent force indeed, Serra Vallan - but fear is also a potent
force.  Are you sure you’re not letting fear rule you, instead of your own
thoughts?”

“Aren’t you playing devils advocate a bit much?”  Christine said.  “I
thought you’d be glad to see me go home.”

“Oh, I am, Serra Vallan - but I’m a priest.  Playing devil’s advocate
comes naturally to us.  It’s in our nature.  Please forgive me if
I’ve offended you.”   Abbot Thurston was smiling as he said the last
- like he enjoyed the discussions his wordplay could provoke.  “I’ll come
visit you and your friends shortly.”

Christine nodded.  “Thank you, reverend father.”  She turned and
walked back upstairs, fuming a bit.  Afraid - of course I was afraid...
who wouldn’t be?  Maniacs waving swords around, spells blasting
everywhere.  We all could have been killed a dozen times.  Fear is a
normal response to that kind of stimulus.  Duh.

She walked back upstairs and wandered the grounds for a while, killing time.

*
*          *

Sir Andred took Erica into his chamber, and sat her down on the edge of the
bed.  She was looking at him, hopefully - like she needed him to tell her
how to make the halo go away.  She doesn’t realize this isn’t something
that goes away, does she?  He thought.  This is something that
will stay with her forever.  She needs to be told.

“Erica... how much do you know about being a saint, at least here?  From
what I’ve heard from tales from you and your friends, you don’t have many back
home, do you?”

“That’s just it, Sir Andred - we don’t have any - and the ones we call saints
don’t have this halo thingy - this inner light.   They’re just really
special pure people... and I don’t deserve it.  I’m not pure of
heart.  I want revenge, and for people who hurt me to suffer.
I appreciate the Goddess likes talking to me - but why did she have to give me
this burden?”

“Erica, whether you believe it or not, the gods do not give us burdens we
cannot carry if we persevere.  She must value something in you, or need
you for some special purpose, to give you such a gift - and such a
responsibility.  Do you have any idea how many people you could control
with a display of the Inner Light?  How the faithful would heed your words
above all others - even the Hierarchs themselves?  You may have a burden,
my dear - but you also have power.  You have the personal favor of the
goddess herself; let her guide you and maybe you will see this for the blessing
it is.   But I don’t want to lecture - you want to know how to hide
the Inner Light - turn off the glow, as it were.  Correct?”

“Yes, please.”  Erica answered, thinking.  Power?  I don’t
know if I want that kind of power.  Just knowing magic was more than
enough for me... this is too much.  I don’t want to control people... the
very idea disgusts me.  Too much time in hospitals with doctors telling me
what to do and when to do it - I couldn’t do that to someone else.  No
way.

Andred waited for her to settle herself, and began.  “The Inner Light is a
divine manifestation of the gods’ presence - their light shines through you
into all that see you.  It is a blessed thing.”  Andred was speaking
by rote - like he was speaking a passage memorized a long time ago.  “The
Light can be used to ward off evil, and to heal wounds, and even to destroy
ones foes - but it is also a terrible responsibility.  Your words will
carry the weight of someone who speaks to the gods - and people will put
inordinate emphasis on all you say and do, so one must be mindful of what they
do when their Inner Light is evident.  Sometimes it behooves the faithful
to conceal their Inner Light so as to better move amongst the flock, to do the
gods work.  At such times, one needs to take the light into themselves,
and the light will dim.  You will be as you once were, until such a time
as you release the Inner Light once more.”

Andred took a breath. “I know you don’t know how to use those powers I
mentioned yet - but I suspect they’ll come to you in time.  Although we
know of the Inner Light, there are perhaps less than six people in all of
Valris who are blessed with its gift - and two of them are the High King and
High Queen.  This is a rare thing - and it is something you will carry for
the rest of your life.  Do you understand?”

“I don’t know, Sir Andred.  I know its rare - but I can’t live a normal
life with it, not back home and not here.  Can I at least conceal
it?   Its not that I don’t want to help the goddess - I do - its just
I really, really don’t want a lot of attention drawn to me until I’m more
comfortable in this new body I wear - till I accept the new me as
‘me’.   I can’t deal with being a religious icon right now - I
can’t.”

“You don’t have to be, child.”  He said, fondly.  “I will show you
how to conceal it - I just needed to tell you it is something you can’t run
from forever.  One day you WILL have to deal with it, and reconcile the
fact that the gods want you in their life - and that you deserve it, whether
you believe it or not.”

Erica sat thinking for a bit.  Sir Andred looked extremely serious... Like
she’d just been given a huge superpower and that was his “great power comes
with great responsibility” speech.  This is a lot bigger than I thought
it was.  What do I do about it?   I guess for now I learn how to
hide it, and figure out how to deal with it later.  Like magic, and
fighting, and throwing, and all the other damn skills I haven’t had time to
learn since I got here.   Seriously, I’d give my left nut if I still
had it for six months of uninterrupted training with Maeve and Kai and
Andred.  I feel like I’m treading water in the deep end of the pool and I
don’t know how to swim.  How long before I tire and fall?

“Please show me how to dim the light, Sir Andred.  I promise, I’ll try and
deal with the reality of it as soon as I can - I just don’t have the luxury of
not hiding it now.  If I show up on Earth with this glowing, we’ll be
spotted in seconds and we’ll never catch Vargas.   We need
stealth.”  Erica sighed.  “I’m ready.”

Sir Andred smiled.  Erica has a good heart - she’s just scared.   “Of
course.  Here is what you need to do.  The Inner Light is the
presence of the gods themselves - so to conceal their presence, you need to
make a place for them to reside within you, and draw their presence down inside
you - make them a part of yourself - and the light will dim.   It
sounds easy, but it is not - but I think you will manage it all the same.
Think of all the ways the goddess has made you feel good, of the way you felt
when she asked for your personal help.   Make a home for that feeling
in your heart - and pull the light down with your mind into that home.
Let it fill you, and warm you - let it become part of you.   If you
can do this, you will dim the light.”

“Oh that’s all.”  Erica said smiling.  “I’ll give it a
try.”   She closed her eyes and calmed herself, like how Maeve taught
her to when checking for the Call of Hrask, but instead of looking at her most
precious things, she thought of what the Goddess meant to her.
She saved me... She made me a girl.   She called me her
daughter.  She wants me to save the worlds - both of them.
She’s a goddess, and I’m so small - how could she need me?   I want
to help her - but I’m afraid.  I’m afraid I’ll screw it up like my whole
life has been screwed up till now.   As Erica kept thinking, she
stopped thinking in words, but kept trying to define how the goddess made her
feel, just by being in her presence.  She remembered the sense of
community and caring that weekend Kai and Christine and she went to church in
Wethom a few weeks ago.  It made her feel good, knowing that the gods
cared for their people here, unlike at home.  She liked knowing that
someone was watching out for her... it made her feel safe.  It made her
feel loved.  She was proud she had been chosen by Askeline for her task -
but awed that she was special enough to be tagged for it.   Erica
took all that - all those feelings, and compressed them into a ball, and
imagined that she grabbed that ball with her hands, and slowly pulled it down
into her chest.

At first, she felt nothing - but in a few moments, she could feel warmth fill
her head, then progress down through her neck and chest until the warmth
settled inside her body.  It made her feel warm, and loved, and safe all
at once.  It gave her strength - but at the same time she felt that
perhaps she wasn’t alone inside her thoughts anymore... that she had invited a
presence into her of her own free will.  Unlike the voices that tortured
her for years, though, this presence radiated nothing but love and
confidence.  I can live with that, she thought.  Sir Andred
was right - I feel whole... for the first time in my life, I feel whole.

She looked up - to see Sir Andred gazing at her with amazement.  “You did
well, Erica.”  He said.  “You accepted the Inner light.  You
should be proud - very few who gain it can learn to join with it on their first
attempt.”

“You mean it worked?”  Erica asked, surprised.  She looked around -
and could tell the illumination that had been following her was noticeably
absent.  “Sweet.  Thanks Sir Andred.”  She was so happy, she
stood up and gave him a hug.  It felt good, to be able to hug a friend and
not be thought less of.    Home was so weird that way,
she thought.  Maybe it’s not really home anymore.  Is home here
then?  I don’t know.  Maybe.

Sir Andred coughed a bit, a little embarrassed.  Erica was so innocent she
didn’t realize the effect she had on people - himself included.  It wasn’t
sexual for him - he knew she was beautiful - but his spirit lay with his wife
Jessica, gone five years to the grave; Andred knew he would never love another
woman quite like he had his late wife Jess.  No - it was more a rapturous,
religious thing for him.  He was a holy warrior - and this woman, this
child, was touched by the gods - and it was his personal responsibility to make
sure she was safe, and succeeded in her task.  She was his charge, his
responsibility - but she was more than that.  She was also a friend.

Erica’s hug didn’t last long, and they broke apart.  Erica looked
different somehow to Sir Andred - more poised, calmer.  She had a presence
about her she didn’t have a week ago, before she died.  He had heard
speaking with the gods could do that to a person - now he knew it.
“We should get back to the others, Erica.  There will be lots to do before
we must go.  Weapons to ready, supplies to gather, and so on.  We
will need a plan.”

“I understand.  I’ll need Christine’s help for our end of the plan - no
offense but you guys will have no idea what to do in our world - you won’t even
be able to function without help.  It’s too alien.   You didn’t
see how bad it was for us when we first arrived - but it was a bit crazy.
It’ll be a hundred times worse for you three.   We’ll probably need
to ride herd on all of you to keep this turning into a disaster.”

“Is it that bad?”  Andred said, heading out back into the main room.

“Its worse.”  Erica laughed, following him.  “You have no idea, Sir
Andred.  No idea at all.”

As they exited the bedroom, they found the sitting room bereft of their
friends.  “I guess we’ll need to get ready on our own, then?”  Sir
Andred said, chuckling.  “It would seem your revelation this morning has
put everyone into a bit of a tizzy.”

Erica winced as Sir
Andred said ‘revelation’.  “Could you not use that word right now, Sir
Andred.  Back home it can have a pretty negative connotation - like ‘the
end of the world’ kind.  An ancient prophet - a holy person - someone who
might have had the inner light - wrote a book called ‘The Revelation of John’
and it foretold the coming of the end of the world.”

“Sounds frightening...  Alright, Erica - what word should I use?  I
won’t say organic, because I know it makes you and Christine grind your teeth
every time Maeve and Kai try to figure out your way of speech.”

“Well, one of our philosophers said ‘Eureka!’ which means pretty much the same
thing, but has few negative associations to it.  That might do.
‘Aha!’ is also used too.  Our language is pretty strange at times.”
Erica smiled, wondering if any of her new friends could figure out the
childhood riddle ‘which witch is which?’  English is weird enough to
learn for natives.  At least Christine and I can nag Kai to learn
English... turnaround is fair play, after all...

Erica grabbed her bag, and pulled out her goddess journal, and sat down to
write.  For a change, she had a lot to say - and little time to write it
down.  I’d better finish it today - I might not get another chance, especially
if I don’t come back; this will be the only record they have if something
happens to me.  She wasn’t worried about getting it translated in time
- if worst came to worst they could use magic to decipher it, which was fine
with Erica.   No - she wanted to get what the goddess told her down
on paper, so she didn’t forget, and she wanted to talk about the Inner Light
and what happened with that.

An hour passed as Andred packed gear and sharpened blades and arrowheads.
During that time, Erica wrote in her journal, cursing more than once as her
quill pens split and broke, globbing her page up with inkblots.  She
only went through three quills this time, he thought.  She’s
getting better.

Maeve and Abbot Thurston entered the room, chatting quietly.   “I
don’t know the details, Reverend Father.”  Maeve said.  “I know she
said the goddess would take us to her home tonight - but that’s it.  We
were too taken aback to talk about specifics.”

“I see.”  Said the Abbot.  “Well, then I’ll need to speak with her
myself.  Ahh - there you are, Serra Helstrome.  May I speak with you
about your vision?”

“Sure.”  Erica said, gladly putting her quill pen down.  “I need a
break from this anyway.”

Maeve smiled.  “Hey!  You got your glow to turn off!  That’s
great!  Good job, Erica.”

“Thanks.  It was easy with Sir Andred’s help.”  She said.
“Let’s go over here, Reverend Father.”  Erica and the Abbot went to the
corner to talk, and sat quietly while Erica told him of her dream of the
goddess.

Meanwhile, Maeve went over, and sat with Sir Andred, quietly picking up some of
his tasks of readying the weapons and gear and assisting him.  It needed
to be done - and unless Kai came back soon, only they were there to do
it.

*
*          *

Kai was still brooding in the gardens, watching the monks tend the priory
gardens and fields.   There wasn’t much at this time for the monks to
tend to - it was still far too early in springtime to be planting crops - but
there were leaves to be raked up, and grasses to cut before they became
unmanageable.   Kai found the solitude helpful for his mood.  He
knew he was in a fine foul mood - but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure
why.  Maeve keeps suggesting I make a move on Erica - but she was a
young man not so long ago, and its not exactly obvious if she’s happy like that
or not.  I would never force that kind of attention on someone, especially
if they might not be interested in men.  It would be wrong.
And now that Inner light - why does it make me so sad?   When I saw
her with that, my heart sank - why?  It doesn’t make sense.

Kai needed to do some deep thinking, so he found a stump used for chopping
wood, and sat down, using it for a seat.  He always found sitting down and
having a pipe cleared his thoughts.  Maybe it will this time?
He thought.  He took his pipe from his bag, and tapped it out to clean it,
then took a small amount of Valorin ‘satharis’- a high quality weed commonly
used in pipes, and put it in the pipes bowl and lit it with a
match.   These matches are such a luxury, he thought.  Imported
all the way from Madragoor - but Maeve loves the best - and she got me hooked
on these things, dammit.  Would you believe this one silly match costs a
silver crescent?  Gah.  I used to have simpler tastes.

The satharis weed caught on fire, and Kai puffed a few times to get it going,
and then relaxed to enjoy his pipe and think.  The sweet smell of the burning
herbs wafted through the air, and added a pleasant blue tinge to the air around
him.  As he calmed his nerves, he was able to approach the problem again,
from a more relaxed perspective.

Kai examined his feelings about the whole situation, and found himself
confused.  At first, when he met Eric, he was impressed with the young
man’s courage, and his willingness to learn.  As they travelled together,
he became more impressed with his intelligence and his burgeoning magical strength.
And then, in that last battle, where Eric sacrificed himself to save Kai...
that’s where it got weird.  His last words to me... his last words were
a joke, weren’t they?   ‘You’re too cute to die.  I wish...’   At
the time he didn’t think much of it, beyond the grief of losing a friend - but
perhaps there was more to it?  Perhaps Erica was truly Tuaithal
Braithe?  If so, he was happy for her - but it only made the situation far
more confusing.

After an hour of brooding, he had only deciphered a part of how he felt.
He felt something he couldn’t explain towards her.  He liked being near
her - she made him happy just talking with him.  Teaching her about his
world was exciting - seeing the wonder in her eyes made his spirit soar, and
when Flavius, the fallen in the wine cellar struck her, something in him
snapped...  He swore to kill him - and he meant it.   Is this
what love feels like?  He wondered.  Maybe.  I wish I
knew.   What do I do if she doesn’t want to stay here, just like
Christine doesn’t.  Like Christine said - ‘it’s a nice place to visit but
I wouldn’t want to live there.’  Our worlds are so different - what if she
asks me to stay with her, and I can’t do it?  I can’t bear to tell her how
I feel, and then have her leave my life forever.  I can’t.

By the time he came to his realization, Kai’s pipe was long out, and he was
getting stiff.  He tapped the pipe out on the stump, and rose to go back
inside.  Doubtless there would be much to do, and Maeve would need his
help.   I’ll have to figure out the rest on my own.  He
thought.  If I had half a brain I would sit Erica down and have a very
long chat as soon as possible, if there’s time.   At least then I
would know if there’s any hope at all for me - or for us, if there is an us.
At least I would know.

*
*          *

Christine was bored and tired.  I guess its time I went back... I’ve been
feeling like a fifth wheel lately around these four - Erica’s taking to the
freebooting adventurer life like a duck to water, and I’m stuck in ‘want to go
home’ mode.  I’d like to be like them sometimes - able to kick ass and
take names - but that’s not me.  I help people, I don’t hurt people.
I can’t... The only person I’ve ever tried to hurt was Vargas when he killed Eric...
god, I can’t believe how many times I shot him!

As she picked her way through the orchards surrounding the priory, She saw the
sun in the sky - it was mid afternoon - time for a meal if nothing else, and
she was sure Maeve and the others would want to make a plan for when they got
to Earth.   I guess I’ll be one of the ones making the plan, since
they don’t know jack all about our world.  It’ll be weird to be in charge
for a change - but at least it’ll be a world I understand and know how to deal
with.  I hope Erica decides to come back here... I think she could be
happy here.  Back home?  I dunno.  Maybe?  How would we
even get her ID or a SIN?  I’m not a criminal - I wouldn’t
know.

She got back to the priory and headed inside.  Everyone was in the room -
Kai included.  I guess his temper tantrum ran its course, she
thought.  Then again, that may be unfair - I have no idea what set him
off.   Probably something religious with Erica and her halo.   “Hi
guys.”  She said.  “What’s up?”

Maeve thought for a moment, and realized what Christine was really
asking.  “Erica is talking to Abbot Thurston about her vision, and Sir
Andred and I are readying our weapons and armor, while Kai is helping pack our
gear and supplies.  What have you been up to?”

Christine wondered herself a bit.  “I guess I’ve been saying goodbye to
Mercia for a while.  I’ll probably never be back here again - it seemed
proper to pay my respects.”

Maeve nodded.  It seemed proper to her as well.  “Fair enough.
Hand me some of those arrows.”

Christine nodded and started helping Maeve and the others.  She didn’t
have the heart to tell them most of their preparations would be for naught, but
it seemed to comfort them, so she held her tongue.

Abbot Thurston stood up.  “Thank you, Serra Helstrome.  I look
forward to this evening, and to reading your journal when you leave it with
us.   Is it true you’ve written many of your own thoughts in the
book, as well as your observations of the Goddess?”

“Yes, Reverend Father.  I’ve written whatever came to mind that seemed
relevant - comparisons between my world and yours, how things are different,
and what ways seem better.  I think perhaps I wrote too much, but it
seemed right at the time.  I hope it makes sense to you when I’m gone.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Erica.”  The Abbot said.  “If you’re
leaving tonight, then I have some things I must do.  I’ll take my leave of
you, if you please?”

“Of course, Reverend Father.”  Erica looked relieved.  Their chat had
gone on for well over an hour - and it was obvious she was getting fatigued and
a little bit stressed.   “Thank you.”

Abbot Thurston nodded to the others, and said “Dinner will be early tonight, to
accommodate your leaving.  Please come a bit early to the dining hall,
would you?”

Sir Andred nodded.  “Of course, Reverend Father.  It would be our
pleasure.”

Erica went over to a plate of fruit, bread and cheese that a monk had brought
for them and the Reverend Father to eat.  She took a few pieces of fruit,
some bread covered with jam, and a thick hunk of a white cheese that smelled a
bit like cheddar and a bit like havarti mixed together.   “What did I
miss?” she asked.

“We’ve been getting ready to go - with armor and weapons, food and
supplies.  We’ve been waiting on you and Christine so we can make a
plan.”  Maeve said.  “You both know the area better.  What are
we in for?”

Oh wow... you don’t ask for much, do you?  Thought Erica.
“Well for starters, we’ll have some serious problems if we bring armor and
weapons, beyond a belt knife, with us.  Seriously - Christine, can you
imagine what a cop would do if he saw Sir Andred in his chainmail wielding a
broadsword.   We’d be in the slammer - that’s jail - so fast you’d
never see how you got there - if he survived being arrested.”

Sir Andred looked nonplussed.  “Do people not have a right to protect
themselves on your world?”

“Yes.”  Erica said.  “And it usually involves calling for the town
watch and running away.  At least in our country.  In other countries
you can carry a gun - a pistol like I used on Vargas’s men - but anyone wearing
a sword or armor is going to stand out like a sore thumb.   Heck,
even wearing our handmade clothing is going to make us stand out like sore
thumbs.   Let me pose a question to you, Sir Andred.”

“As you wish, Erica.  Pose away.”

“If we were walking
down a street and four ruffians stepped out to mug and assault us, what would
you do?”  Erica asked.   “You’d draw your sword, and threaten
them - and if they didn’t back off, you’d give them a taste of your steel... am
I correct?”

Sir Andred, Maeve and Kai frowned.  “Yes.”  Sir Andred
answered.  “Is that not the proper response?”

“Nope.”  Christine interjected.  “At home, you’d be expected to give
over your money, hope they didn’t beat you up too bad, and call for the police
after they run off.  If you’re lucky about 6 months later a few of them
will be arrested and do a month or two in jail.  If you draw a weapon and
kill one, you might get lucky and not go to jail on a ‘self defence’ plea - but
if you killed all four of them - especially if they tried to run, our courts
would find you guilty of murder and you’d go to prison for the rest of your
life.”

“But...but they’re thieves.  Bandits.  Everyone knows what you do
with bandits.  That’s crazy!”

Sir Andred actually looked incensed - and Maeve could understand why.
Wiping the walls with annoying bandits was an accepted adventurer pastime and
being denied such a simple pleasure seemed silly and mildly
insulting.   “You’re supposed to just bend over and give them your
wallet.  LET them beat you and pray they don’t kill you or worse?
That’s madness.”  Maeve frowned.  Maybe this journey to Erica and
Christine’s world was a bad idea.  Still, its not like they had a choice -
both worlds were at stake.

“Welcome to our world.  Wait till you hear the rules for how to properly
cross the street without breaking the law, or getting killed by one of those
‘carriages’ you rode in, Maeve.”  Erica said.  “Our world has rules
for everything - and if you break any of them, we could come to the police’s
attention - and that would be bad.   On the plus side, Vargas doesn’t
have two guides like Christine and I to help him out - so he’s likely to run
afoul of the law awfully quick - but on the minus side, he won’t have a problem
killing the police if they become annoying, which we, I hope will
avoid.   If either of us is staying there when this quest is done,
we’d rather not have problems with the law.”

“Gods give us strength.  I swear your world sounds more insane each time I
hear of it.”  Kai said, frowning.  “I said I would give it a chance -
and I will - but I don’t expect to enjoy it.”

“I understand entirely, Kai.  I hope you find parts you like - but I
suspect you’ll be like Christine was here - confused, and wanting to go home
badly.  I’m sorry.”  Eric smiled sadly.  “It is what it
is.  Our worlds are so very different - I don’t know if you’ll be able to
manage.  Its noisy, smelly, frighteningly loud and distracting.
There are vehicles moving everywhere at breakneck speeds, and hundreds of
thousands of people walking the streets everyday.  It would be like that
anthill you described a while back - a hive of people, like ants.   I
don’t think any of you will like it much.”

“I understand.”  Maeve said.  “But I guess the truth of it is we
don’t have to like it.  We need to stop Vargas from resurrecting Tiamat -
and once that’s done we can come home, assuming we don’t fall afoul of your
worlds laws.  How will we find him, if there are so many people they’re
like ants?”

Christine leaned in to the discussion.  “I figure he’s a psycho and a
killer right - and his men Flavius and Gaius are definitely killers.  My
bet is that at some point, he’ll be caught by a cop or a gang member and get
into a fight - and them there’ll be a mysterious death.   We can
search for oddities like that on the Internet, and find out what he’s up to.”

Eric nodded.  “Good idea.  But that’s too reactive, and not
proactive.   He’ll be looking for proof of dragons - like bones or
burial grounds.  Maybe we should have some of us watch the museums like
the ROM?  They have tons of dinosaurs there - they might be mistaken for
dragons...  Other than that, maybe Maeve could track him with Sight magic,
or we might get lucky and bump into him.  Sorry - I don’t have a great
plan here.”

“What is an internet, and ROM?”  Maeve asked.  “They sound
interesting.”

“Ummm... The ROM is the Royal Ontario Museum - its got old relics from ancient
civilizations, ancient bones of giant lizards, and all sorts of old history
stuff - its just the place for an insane wizard to want to hang
out.   The internet is harder to explain...  I guess you could
say its kind of like a crystal ball that lets you ask questions, and sometimes
scry places, but which also offers you endless entertainment and a means to
communicate with others.  Millions of people have access to it in the city
and a lot have hand-held devices that can access it.  Christine has one in
her purse.”

“Yeah,” said Christine.  “But the battery died about 10 days ago.  It
needs to be recharged badly.”

“And these devices aren’t magic, but more artifice like we talked about in
Madragoor.  Bits of springs and wires and cogs and this chained lightning
you spoke of?”  Maeve asked.

“Pretty much, yeah.”  Erica answered.  “All of the amazing things our
people can do are based on that stuff.  If we lost it all of a sudden,
we’d be helpless.  Heck, without those carriages to move food into the
city and devices to keep the food fresh until we ate it, most of the people in
the cities would starve to death in days.”

“Madness.”  Sir Andred shook his head in disbelief.  “Utter madness.”

“So no armor and no weapons beyond a knife.”  Kai said sighing.
“What are we supposed to hurt him with when we find him?  Harsh
language?”

“I figured we could buy
some hatchets and claim it was camping gear and not a weapon.”  Erica
said.   “The police might buy that, if we weren’t waving them around
when they saw us.  We’ll have to get new clothes too - so we blend in.”

Christine laughed.  “That means you will too, kiddo!  Hahaha.”

“Believe me, I’ve been thinking about that too, Christine.” Erica said.
“I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to it or not... I’m edging towards the
former.  We’ll need some money fast - and we could buy most of what we
need either at a box store like Wal-mart or perhaps the Eaton’s center,
depending on where we arrive.”

“We could go to my house, rest a bit and use my computer to find out where
Vargas has surfaced, if he’s surfaced.  I can’t imagine a snake like him
could hide for long in our world - there are too many eyes watching
everything.”  Christine paused.  “It shouldn’t take long before he
does something that ends up on the internet.”

“Your home sounds like a good base of operations, Christine.”  Maeve
said.  “It has room enough to house us all with room to spare, and we
should be able to help with money for any repairs needed when we’re done the
mission.   Is gold valuable on your world?”

“Yes!”  Christine said laughing.  “Fifty of the gold coins you got
from the Hierarchs would be over a years pay for a couple with several
children, where both spouses worked full time.   I don’t know what
Electrum is to know how much its worth.”

“Electrum?”  Kai said.  “Its a mixture of Silver, Gold, and some base
metals for hardness, plus a chemical to tint it blue-ish white, so that it more
resembles Thuria, the white moon.”

“Aye.”  Sir Andred said.  “Although we’d use gold like most other
nations if gold was easier to find in Valris.  Let me tell you, lass - if
you ever find gold in a mine in Valris, your future and that of your children
and their children’s children is assured.  You’ll never suffer want
again.”

“There’s that little of it?”  Christine asked.

“Aye - we use only a bit in coinage - the rest is reserved for the church, and
for jewellery and artwork.  Its too rare and valuable to use much of it
for coin.  Valdans like jewels and jewellery a great deal though - and its
more often seen in that, than in a persons wallet.”  Andred sighed.
“I suppose you don’t use gold for money do you?”

“Now that you mention it, no.”  Christine said.  She was getting to
like this - seeing the look of confusion and dismay on their faces.
Turnabout was indeed fair play!   “We use paper money or little
plastic cards.”

“What’s plastic?”  Kai asked.

“Think of it like really hard brittle rubber, shaped into a thin wedge about
two or three inches by about four inches.   It has little codes on it
that machines can see and interpret, and can be used to keep track of who has
how much wealth.   It makes it easier to carry around large sums,
without being weighed down.”  Erica sighed.  “We really could do this
all day, but there isn’t time to tell you enough.  You’ll just have to
stick close to us and trust us - when we say not to do something, DON’T do
it.  Just trust us, and I think we’ll all get through this.”

“Gah...!”  Kai groaned.  “As you wish.”

Maeve sighed, and turned to Kai.  “If we can’t spend the coins, I intend
to leave most of my reward here with the Abbot, to pick up when I return.
I recommend we leave anything we can’t take here as well, like Andred’s armor
and sword, your bow, and my shortsword.   I’m taking this.”  She
said, holding up the weapon she took from the dead hands of a Fallen assassin
on the steps of the Cathedral of Three moons a few weeks ago.  “This gun
killed my brother.  I’d like to see if it can kill Vargas, or some of his
men.  Fair is fair.”  The look on Maeve’s face was hungry and
dangerous.

Christine wasn’t sure it was a good idea - but there was no way in hell she was
going to tell Maeve no.  Not with that look on her face.   At
least its some kind of dart gun - it should be quiet right?  Like a
paintball gun?

The priory rang with the sound of three bells, signalling that dinner was to be
in an hour.   Maeve stood up, and brushed away some crumbs of lunch,
and some dust from her pants.  “We should take some time to ready
ourselves as well as our weapons and gear - I think I need to meditate for a
while, and calm my mind.  Andred?”

“I think I will join the monks in prayer, Maeve.”

Christine shrugged.  “I’ve got nothing to do.  I might have a nap.”

“Good.”  Kai said.  “Then I’m borrowing Erica for a while.”

“What?”  Erica said, surprised.  “For what?”

“I’d like to talk to you, privately for a while, while we walk.  Is that
alright with you?”

What is he thinking?  Erica wondered.  Is he going to ask
me to stay?  Was Christine right?   Why do I feel so panicked
right now... its just a walk!   Erica had butterflies in her
stomach, and her cheeks held a nice shade of pink by the time she
answered.  “Sure.  We could walk.”   She walked over to
Kai, and took his arm when he offered it, and they left the room together.

All three of them waited a short while, until Sir Andred broke the
silence.  “No offence, ladies, but its about bloody time one of them did
that.”

Maeve laughed.  “Amen, Andred.  Amen.”

Even Christine had to smile at that.