The warrior knew he was dead even before the enemy's steel bit hungrily into his warm flesh. Only moments before, it was he who had this creature near death. It was not until he stumbled in the midst of a fast and frantic exchange of blows that the thought flashed through his mind -- this might be his last fight. The bright steel that had held a razor-sharp edge through so many battles now seemed to dull as it connected harshly against the metallic skin of the creature.

Then sword met sword.

Time stopped as the warrior saw pieces of finely wrought metal scatter to the four winds, catching flashes of light as they fell toward the ground.

The creature's evil blade seemed to hang momentarily in the air. The split seconds felt like hours to the doomed fighter, as his grip instinctively tightened on the now-useless hilt. His muscles tensed in anticipation as he waited bravely for the final blow to be struck...

(Stéphane)

The dark glow of the creature's sword fell towards him; the weary fighter closed his eyes; and the cracking sound of wood crashing into metal filled his ears.

The warrior's eyes flew open and searched frantically for the intrusion that had saved his life. Beside him the huge frame of his friend, Bur'K, could be seen in the dim moonlight. A mass of smelly pelts and old leather, the half-troll stood a full two heads higher than the warrior's own large body, and twice the weight. In his clawed, right hand, Bur'K clenched an enormous oak log, bound in steel bands. It was this, Bur'K's favorite weapon, which had prevented the warrior from meeting Mortae. The Warrior silently apologized for every unsavory comment he had ever said against his smelly friend.

The dark creature, previously so close to the warrior, now lay on it's back several feet away from them. A hideous, screaching laugh, full of the malice and evil of the five hell's itself, sounded from the creature. It arose, completely unscathed, and studied the new arrival in amusement. It's eyes, two pinpricks of fire the color of blood, roamed over Bur'K, settling finally on his face where a thin smile had grown.

The creature's face contorted in what the warrior could only assume was a frown. The warrior also risked a moment's puzzlement at his friend's smile. Bur'k had no magik other than the gift of swift healing he had inherited from his Troll parent. A gift which did little good against this abomination other than to prolong the creature's play. Did the Half-troll know something they didn't?

As though to answer the warrior's unspoken question, tendrils of light and fire raced passed the warrior and his friend from the dark trees behind them. The fiery tentacles danced across the dark skin of the creature in a continuous stream of light and heat. The creature began a slow retreat as it's skin, formerly protected by dark shadows, began to smoke and sizzle. With the speed the warrior had seen earlier, the creature turned and fled into the forest, the tendrils lacing it's skin disappearing as the spell ended, leaving wisps of smoke hanging in the crisp air.

Behind them, a short, pudgy figure stepped forth from the dark.

"Waeric!" the warrior gasped as he recognized the glint off the mage's bald head. The shadowy form of larry, the mage's pet ferret, curled up around his neck. It hissed at the place where the creature had stood, apparently able to sense the evil that still saturated the area.

The warrior collapsed among the shards of his ruined sword, unable to keep the weariness back any longer. He had suffered many wounds and bled from all of them. His friends rushed to his side. As darkness closed in around him, he felt the huge arms of Bur'K lift him up and carry him into the forest…

(Phil (1/2-N-E))

Several dark figures watched from the shadows as the huge troll creature and the mage carried off their fallen comrade. As they disappeared along the forest trail, a hooded figure stepped from the darkness behind them.

" It seems that I've found you at last." the woman's voice was soft and musical.

" Garven!" she called. A slender man with ebony skin slipped out of the shadow of trees.

" Report back to Kal'des. Tell him that I have found the group he foresaw. Inform him that I must wait for the appearance of the other two before I take them. They will not live to find Imrana's blade."

Garven nodded, " As you command, mistress."

Stepping away from the cloaked woman, he spread his arms wide apart and stared up at the sky. Instantly, he was transformed into a large raven, flying off towards the north. With his departure two other men stepped from the trees.

" What are your instructions, my Lady," asked the tall slender archer. " Do I track them or simply wait?"

" Can you follow without being seen, Linon?"

The archer nodded, silently.

" Then do so." she walked towards the massive figure in black armor, sliding under his well muscled arm." Majel and I will head back to Karestal. I will follow your progress from there. Be cautious, Linon. I do not want them to know what is happening. My shadow will take days to recover, let them believe they are safe until then."

" Yes, Lady Dalveron." he whispered, bowing slightly. Without another word, Linon disappeared silently into the trees. The dark warrior stared after him for several moments before turning his attention to the lady.

"You 've killed him, Lysa. The prophecy said that he would die at the hands of the half troll, alone."

Lysa smiled. " Then I guess I need a new scout. Take me home Majel."

Frowning, the warrior took a small black stone from about his neck and dropped it to the dirt.

" TENATH GALDRA VER KARESTAL INSANTA!" he called loudly. A black, swirling portal opened in the middle of the path. Majel casually picked up the stone and placed it back around his neck.

" After you, my Lady."

(Brenda)

Limping and bleeding from the many cuts the beast had inflicted on him, Delos followed his companions, leaning on the mighty frame of the troll.

" I wonder what this thing wanted from you" uttered the mage. "It's not as if you were carrying something important. These monsters usually are after someone for a reason. They are summoned on this plane, they rarely wander here by accident. Would you have enemies we are not aware of ?"

"I don't know", managed to whisper the injured. “I was just after some small game for the evening meal, then suddenly it came from nowhere, bearing on me, smashing his blade in my back. I barely had the time to unsheathed my own sword, and...well, you know the rest, it was over in a matter of seconds. But apart from the sounds, which were very brief, what made you follow me ?"

(Stephane)

Llyr was hiding in the trees...listening intently to the wounded warrior's conversation. She flew from leaf to leaf, her shimmering wings moving too quickly to be seen. The Faerie queen would be pleased that Delos survived.

Llyr, in all her loyalty, still wondered what her Queen could possibly want with this smelly band of adventurers...She shrugged away her doubts and let her natural curiosity take over again.

When the band set up camp for the night...she went to join her friend Mak at the appointed Oak tree. She sat herself down on a big mushroom and waited for him, occasionally glancing about nervously. Maia

He was silently walking the road up to the capital of Weuportland, ankle deep in the mud, heavy rain blinding him. Protected from the rain in his dark blue cloak, his great sword sheathed in his back-scabbard and carrying a small leather bag on his shoulder, he had to keep going. He was walking since the rogue warriors were pillaging and killing the peasants, taking food and loot for their evil masters.

A long time had passed since he last saw is loved wife and daughters. He was thinking of them and tried to cry but he couldn't. He was cold. Then again, he had been cold since this day, since they all died in this raid. A holy paladin of Aramon he had been. Now, is despair made him reject his God, his pride and convictions.

But he was walking this road again, the road he took day after days, year after year. This road he knew seemed different, like if it was a century latter, as if he last took it in a past life. A new life he had, a life of exclusion, loneliness and misery. Maybe that was the difference. Maybe it just changed. He did not care.

He had not seen the sun today. That was perfect. He hated the sun for being warm and bright, feeling he was not worthy of it. It was raining the day they died, a rain similar to this one. If only he could have been there. If only he was not fighting elsewhere. He could have, but his loyalty to his Holy Lord forbidden him to stay. Evil was dead, but so was his beloved wife.

They say True evil cannot be killed. He thought he could. He was wrong, for evil was in his heart and soul. A thousand thoughts of vengeance and torture were in his mind. A paladin he was no more. They used to call him His loyal knight, right hand of justice, Dietrich, Holy paladin of Aramon. He was only Dietrich now.

The rain stopped and the clouds slowly parted to reveal the full brightness of this november moon. He knew he could not stop in this land for he knew it was dangerous for the unwary and he was alone. Wet, tired and cold, he walked and walked.

(Spag)

“Curse this fowl weather!” Lyre whined aloud.

Though she had been able to keep up with the small band, easily enough at first, the rain which had plagued the area for the passed two days kept her grounded. Unable to fly, the small faerie was forced to contend with the mud that layered the ground; no pleasant task when your only as tall as three hand-spans. Over the last few days, the party had slowly gained distance over her, and that afternoon she had lost their trail.

She slipped climbing over a root, and cursed again as she landed on her back in the mud. Would her torment never end? Fate seemed quite resolute about keeping her from her query. At the moment, she readily agreed. A faery's proper place during rain was indoors; hiding in nooks in a tree or under a mushroom or root, not up to your nickers and lying on your back in mud. She sat up.

Or, rather, she tried to sit up. The mud seemed far more liquidy, now, then when she first landed, giving her far less leverage to attempt such a feat. Her wings were covered in mud and now weighed a ton. She squirmed, attempting to free herself, but only succeeded in causing her to sink. Lyre's eyes went wide with a sudden panic. If the mud took on quicksand-like properties, how would she ever get out? Indeed, how would she even keep from sinking deeper into the mud, with her wings dragging her down? Even now, most of her body had already been swallowed up.

Terror took root inside her breast, and she screamed for help. She looked around frantically for a tree branch or vine, but there were none within reach. With the mud almost upon her neck, she began sending a silent prayer to her gone loved ones. Just as she had gotten to her great aunt, the rain stopped. No, wait. The rain hadn't stopped, it was still splashing in the puddles around her. She looked up and found a human staring at her.

(Phil (1/2-N-E))

Having heard the cries of a child, Deitrich rushed off of the well traveled path into the heavy forest. Terror filled him as the cries became more frantic.

"Please, Goddess. Not again, don't let it happen again."

Searching frantically, Deitrich made his way to the source of the panicked cries...and froze. To his amazement and utmost relief, there was no child being attacked. There was no child at all. Instead, he stared dumbfounded at the mired form of a tiny wood sprite. As relief washed over him, Deitrick began to laugh.

Lyr stared back at the huge human, uncertain if she should feel frightened or relieved. As he began to laugh at her predicament all she felt was growing frustration.

" Are you going to leave me here to drown?" she asked with all the sarcasm she could muster in her current state. It was a mistake. Deitrich doubled over, clutching his sides in laughter. Lyr stared in disbelief.

" Seriously. This mud could become like quicksand...." she was cut short as he fell to his knees gasping for breath.

" WHAT IS SO FUNNY?" she screamed.

Deitrich waited several long minutes before he stopped laughing. Climbing to his feet, he walked over and gently lifted Lyr out of the mud.

" Forgive me, little one. I did not mean to laugh at your predicament or to seem insensitive. When I heard you crying out, I had such terrible visions in my mind...I was simply overtaken by relief to see...." he gestured towards her. Unable to find the right words so as not to insult the little fairy, Deitrich wisely chose to be silent. He quickly changed the subject.

"We should get you cleaned up before this mud dries. Little one, why are you out here all alone?"

Lyr stared intently at the tall warrior, uncertain if she should still be mad at him. After a moment she decided that she liked him and would forgive him.

" My name is Lyr. I was waiting for a friend of mine but he never came. So I decided to follow the other group of men who were attacked and fought off a Tenebrae. Then it started to rain. I can't fly when it rains but I had to follow the others because Delos was hurt and I wanted to see if he would be all right."

Deitrich suddenly became serious.

" A Tenebrae? Are you certain, little one?

Lyr nodded. The warrior's frown deepened.

" We have to find this group, Lyr. If your warrior friend has been struck by the Tenebrae, the wound will surely kill him. He will need the attention of a healer, a priest of Vitae. Nothing else will be able to restore the life energy that is slowly being drained away from him. Will you help me find them, little one?"

Something about this man made Lyr want to help him. Though she could not identify the reason, she knew he was a good man, there was something special about him.

" All right." she replied, simply. " They were heading north.

Elsewhere, in the dark forest, a small band prepared their camp for the night. Bur'k prepared a make shift shelter that would keep out the persistent rain while Waeric tried to make a fire. Unsuccessful by normal means, Waeric resorted to magic knowing that the heat would be needed. Delos did not look well. Though his friend said nothing, Waeric could see the growing weakness in his companion despite Bur'k's knowledge of herbs. Waeric began to wonder if Delos would make it to Moon Haven at all.

(Brenda)

In the shadow of the trees, a slender figure sat crouched and still in the darkness, watching the three men move about their camp. After trailing them through the forest, he could see that the warrior weakening with every passing hour. At this rate, Delos would probably be dead by morning. This would please his mistress greatly. The other two, however, were going to pose a significant problem. They were heading straight for the town of Moon Haven, a magical node of considerable power known to attract all manner of creatures including his own fabled race. If there was any place in this cursed plane where they might find information on Imrana's blade, it would be there.

Despite his orders, Linon quietly strung his bow. At this time, these men were at a disadvantage. He could imagine no better moment than now to slay them. Linon notched an arrow and slowly drew it back. Uttering a silent prayer to the Winter Queen, he held his arrow, waiting for a clear shot. Suddenly, he heard movement in the forest...

(Brenda)

In the corner of his eye he saw then felt a dagger on the side of his neck.

"Drop it" Deitrich said.

Linon dropped his arrow, than his bow slowly turning around to face the man that sneaked upon him. He saw a small butterfly fly to the camp.

"Who are you?"

"Listen buddy, I ask questions, you answer. Understood ?" Dietrich poked Linon's throat with his dagger.

"Ouch. Yes, yes I understand."

"Who are you?"

"I am Rant. I come from the mountains to catch those mens who stole my horse"

Dietrich knew he lied.

"Better say the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You know! Then where is the horse you were talking about?"

"I don't know, maybe they sold it! Leave me alone!" Linon had a glimpse of intention to walk toward the forest. Dietrich pushed the dagger a bit. Linon's face showed pain.

"Don't even think about it buddy. Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm Rant"

"You lie again. Don't even try to lie to me, I know you're a liar."

"I'm not! How can you know? You're not even from around here!"

"Listen buddy, lets just say I know, ok?"

Linon's face went white.

"You're one of them aren't you?"

"Shut up! I ask questions, remember?"

Blood was beginning to drop from the small cut Dietrich made. Linon fell unconscious.

"Quick come with me my friends."

Waeric rushed to his component bag on a reflex, Bur'K to his club, surprised by the little fairy that just rushed out of the bushes.

"I am a messenger from my Queen, but now a man is in danger, if you don't help an assassin that was on your tracks could kill him"

"I'll go" said Bur'K, standing up as fast as he could, not fast enough for the little sprite who already flied back to the forest.

Linon regained consciousness to see himself bounded near the campfire where the men he was trying to kill were. Only this time, he was at their mercy.

"Looks like he's waking up" said Waeric.

Dietrich threw a branch in the fire.

"All right, I'll ask him again."

"You sure don't me want ask him?" said Bur'K extending his arm to his club and looking to his friend Waeric.

"No, I don't want him dead."

"ok!" Bur'K sat down, reached for a small branch, put a piece of meat on it and silently started to cook it on the hot ashes.

Dietrich closed on Linon and whispered to his ear.

"Ok, ok, I am Linon, an archer and a messenger from my queen. I was about to deliver my message, but you came and stopped me, alright?"

"Not quite my friend. Can you tell those men what your message consisted of ?"

Linon grinned.

"I was about to put an arrow through their head"

Dietrich noded.

"Who want us dead ?" Waeric nervously asked.

"I cant tell you"

"Listen buddy, you better answer his question."

"Hey, don't you understand I CANT TELL YOU!"

"WATCH OUT" shouted Llyr.

Linon threw himself on Dietrich.

(Spag)

Deitrich, surprised by the sudden attack, was momentarily knocked off balance. The prisoner was stronger than he had expected and had somehow freed one hand from its ropes. Linon grasped the hidden dagger at his waist, a small but deadly looking blade that had once been a part of his belt.

" POISON!" screamed Lyr.

Deitrich rolled. The dagger plunged into the ground where Deitrich's chest once was.

" I'll see you dead!" growled Linon, rage mirrored in his eyes.

" I'll kill every last one of you, you'll never find the last one. Never!"

Waeric began to chant the incantation to a spell and Bur'k, having picked up his club, was bearing down on Linon. Suddenly, an arrow pierced Linon's chest.

" Maybe the last one will find them." a woman called.

Linon fell to the ground, unmoving. Slowly, the others turned to see the newcomer who had entered the camp. The woman who stood before them wore a heavy silver-green cloak that seemed to shift in color with every movement. Her face was heavily shadowed as though she were trying to hide. She was tall, nearly matching

Deitrich's towering form, but very slender of build. Waeric cautiously stepped forward, aware that there was another arrow notched in her silver wood bow.

" Your aim is excellent. Thank you for your help. I am..."

" Waeric." she finished. " And this is Bur'k," she motioned to the half troll, " And Deitrich," She nodded in his direction, " and little Lyr," she held out a gloved hand as Lyr flew over, landing softly in her outstretched palm.

" One is missing." She said finally, looking about the camp.

Bur'k looked at the new faces, then to his long time companion.

" Waeric, why lady know all our names? She friend that Bur'k forget?"

Waeric studied the newcomers as well, uncomfortable with so many unknown elements.

"I think we should give our companions a chance to introduce themselves before we decide if they are friends."

Putting the arrow back into its quiver and taking a moment to put Lyr onto her shoulder, the cloaked woman stepped closer. Slowly, she pulled down the hood of her cape revealing her as an elf of striking beauty. Long silver-blond hair framed her pale skin but it was her eyes that drew attention. Eyes the color of a summer sky that seemed to shine with the light of the stars.

" I am Ylaesa. I am a scout from the Kingdom of White Oak, in the eastern reaches of the Braknisan Mountains. I have been commissioned by the Seers of the Supreme Celestial Light to find you and seek your aid. I have been searching for you for almost 5 months yet it was only chance that I came upon you when I did. I am pleased to have been of assistance." she bowed slightly and stepped back. As if on cue, Deitrich stepped forward.

" I am... I was..." Deitrich sighed deeply. " I am Deitrich, just a guy with a sword." He looked directly at the elf. " And I don't do quests!"

Lyr flew from Ylaesa's shoulder to land on Deitrich's head.

" You promised to help Delos! You said that Delos was going to die! You promised!"

" So, there is another."

(Brenda)

Sighing heavily, Deitrich lifted the tiny fairy into his hand.

" Yes, I did. I promised to help Delos and I will. We'll take him to Moon Haven, we'll find a healer. That's it, though." He stared at the elf. She smiled.

" Hold on for a minute," interjected Waeric, " You're not taking Delos anywhere. He barely has enough strength to walk let alone trek all the way to Moon Haven. We're staying here until he gets his strength back, then we'll go wherever he wants to. Who do you think you are?"

Ylaesa walked toward Waeric but Bur'k blocked her path.

" Pretty elf lady stay back until we know if she friend or no." he said quietly. She stared past him to Waeric.

" I would like to see Delos if I may. I am not a healer but I have some skill that may help him."

Waeric shook his head.

" Bur'k has already seen to Delos' injuries and I TRUST him. I don't even know you. Twice in the past few days, strangers have tried to kill us...or maybe it's just him...but I don't plan to let anyone else near Delos until he's strong enough to fight back."

" Then you may be the person who kills him." Deitrich added quickly. " Delos was attacked by a shadow servant. Even though his wounds may be healing, his very life force is slipping away. If he does not receive attention from a member of the church of life...he will die. He doesn't have much time."

" That is something I may be able to give him." Ylaesa said quietly. " If what Deitrich says is true, then your friend will grow weaker as the night wears on. Darkness will accelerate the drain and Delos will die. For most, the mere touch of the shadow servant means agonizing, instant death. Only the strongest survive but not for long. For him to have lasted this long is nothing short of miraculous but this is a battle he can not win. You have to get him to Moon Haven. He will be too weak to travel, however, if I can give him the strength to last the night we will be able to get him to a healer in the morning. Waeric, I can understand your caution and your mistrust but both Deitrich and I have tried to help you, we are still trying to do so. If you let Delos die, then his attackers will have succeeded."

Waeric stared from one to the other, uncertainty clouding his mind. His decision was made by one small, musical voice.

" Please don't let Delos die." Lyr whispered in his ear. "Please."

Waeric swore quietly.

" He's this way." he said simply, turning towards the shelter.

Both Ylaesa and Deitrich followed the mage. Delos lay still, wrapped in furs and cloaks. His skin was gray and he was sweating despite the chill air. He did not wake when the strangers approached.

" This is bad." Deitrich whispered.

Ylaesa kept her eyes on Delos.

" Have faith." she replied simply. She lay her hand on Delos' brow and began to chant. The soft elven language sounded more like a song than words, Deitrich understood very little of it. Suddenly, her hand began to glow.

" Father of time, hear my prayer, stay the flow around this man until the sun rises and sets again." The glow stopped. Deitrich stared at her in silence, remembering a time when he too held the favor of a god.

" I will have to stay with him through the night. In the morning, you will have to carry him." Ylaesa looked tired.

Waeric smiled.

" Delos always had a way with the ladies." He turned to his giant friend, " Bur'k, are you rested enough to stand watch?"

Bur'k said nothing but nodded. Waeric turned back to Ylaesa.

" Alright, you're his sentinel tonight but Bur'k stays with you. As for the rest of you, make yourself at home. It's going to be a long night.

(Brenda)

They walked and walked, and walked all day long in the forest before they decided to stop for the night.

They ate and prepared to sleep in silence, lost in their thoughts they were. Yleasa was designed as a sentinel. She looked at the fire for a while, listened at all the noises and mysteries of the moon was high in the sky when she succumbed to Morpheus. And the dream began again...

Brown and green and brown and green and brown and green...

The diaphanous hands runned on the loom, as if they would never stop. And the threads went on...

Brown and green and brown and green, brown as the ground and green as the trees...

Where was the earth and where was the sky? The trees seemed to come alive, and to join a tremendous dance. The leaves flew all around, covering the ground...

Brown and green and green and brown and brown and green...

The darkness came over the world as big black birds over a forest...

Brown and green and brown and green and brown...

Silver figures were hiding in the shadows, waiting for them to pass before the Great Oak...

Brown and green and brown and

And she woke up, hearing the noise again. Was she still asleep? She heard Lyr screaming, and decided she was not.

(Edith)

The cloaked figure bent over a book, laid out on a rock for support. The book was open. The pages, inked in blood, were covered in writing too ancient for most to even recognize, and drawings depicting horrid rituals and dark, foul practices. A few lengths away, in the middle if the clearing, lay the still body of Linon, the arrow that had killed him removed from his chest. Beside him, lay another, smaller lump in the shape of a small boy. Bound and gagged, his eyes shone with terror. His cheeks streaked with tears. Candles encircled the two at a few paces, sending a thousand shadows into the trees. The figure's finger, pale and bony, ran over the page as he studied the ritual. Save for the boys muffled whimpers, the forest was oddly silent.

The figure stood, walked over to the circle. From beneath the folds of his robes, he produced a dagger. The blade was silver, highly polished, the handle was black obsidian, intricately carved, a single, clear gem resting in the pommel. He knelt over the boy, reached out and grabbed a clump of his hair. He pulled the boy's head back, roughly, exposing the boy's throat. The boy cried into the gag. With a swift, sure motion, the figure drove the dagger into the boy under the chin. The candles flared.

The boy's eyes bulged, as though surprised and wondering if he should die or not. The color slowly drained from his face, his eyes drooping as life seeped away from him. As the color left his face, the clear gem began to take on a reddish hew from within, growing outward, and deeper in color, as the boy died. The boy's eyes finally closed, and his body slumped over. The cloaked figured withdrew the knife from the boy's throat. The blade gleamed in the moonlight, not a drop of blood marring it's silvery surface.

The figure then turned to Linon's corpse and ripped open his shirt. With a gutteral, raspy voice, the figured whispered incantations, as he drew an incision in the body's chest with the dagger. Not a drop of blood spilled forth. The figure deftly removed the heart, and placed it in a small wooden boxed, retrieved from within the cloak, returned it, and produced another item, a small, purple, velvet bag. He opened it, and shoved a handful of soil from the ground, into it. He took the gem, now the deep red color of blood, from the dagger and placed it into the bag. He stuffed another handful of soil into it before closing it and placing it into Linon's chest, where his heart used to be. The figure placed the tip of the dagger at the base of the incision, and slowly traced his way up the wound, all the while, repeating the earlier incantation. The wound closed up, leaving no scar of any sort.

The figure stood and made a motion with his hand to the trees, then to the body of the boy. Several small, black shadows, no more than a dozen hand-spans tall, separated themselves from the flickering shadows of the forest. They scurried over to the circle, disturbing none of the candles, and carried off the boy's body.

The figure raised his arms, and that same raspy voice filled the clearing.

“Thaluk shavang, Linon, rev'nai tang eigh'lugh Mortae salung'a. Tefrin Shavang fli'ruth fai'laum IK'UUN MARWEIGH'BEI FAI RANUUT!”

The candles flickered and died. The clearing became dark once again as night rushed in to fill it. The figure collected the book and the candles and tucked them away, somewhere into his cloak. An unearthly groaning sounded in the clearing, though it was too dark to see from where.

“Thaluk shavang, Linon. You're will is mine to command,” The figure said, “The ones who killed you must be punished. They head south, toward Havre-lune. Meet them and take your revenge.”

Rustling sounded in the clearing, and the figure could hear his creation stalking off into the forest.

It is done, he thought. The mistress would be pleased.

He walked off into the forest.

(Phil)

Majel crossed his arms, impatiently. This was taking far too long. And where was that cursed necromancer. Maybe the bony freak had been used as a tooth-pick by some giant. Majel chuckled to himself at the image. He sighed. He wasn't that lucky.

He looked over at Lady Dalveron, still with her victim. She had finally broken her after some four hours. Hers was a strong will, but it was useless before that cold heart. Lysa was good, he admitted to himself. Still, why had she needed this one in particular? Another would have been much quicker. The necromancer could have met them back at Karestal. He imagined himself cleaving the necromancer's head from his body. Another chuckle escaped him.

The girl stared back at the Lady. Her eyes were glazed over, no life behind them. Her mouth was open and a small drop of spittle threatened to drip down to her chin. She wore no more than a night gown, and was taking on a slight bluish tint from the cold, but she made no move to warm herself or even so much as shiver. She could hear easily enough, though, and was listening to instructions.

“Remember, you will do as I have commanded, when you here these words, “The innocent may go free…”.

Do you understand?” Lysa studied the girl. In a slow, jerky motion, the girl's head nodded. The bit of spittle fell onto the front of her gown.

“Good,” Lysa allowed herself a smile. That had been quite an effort. The girl's will was incredibly strong. She called out, “Were you successful, Garven?”

A dark, cloaked figure emerged from the trees. Majel looked over in surprise. He hadn't even heard him.

“I was, mistress,” He bowed slightly.

“Excellent. Then we can return and inform Kal'des,” she turned to the girl, “Kash'iid faluush. Sleep, and remember nothing.”

“Majel…” Lysa said.

Majel removed his necklace.

Matilde awoke shivering. Her head hurt and her back was wet from dew. She looked around.

“Ou…?” Matilde stood up and rubbed her arms, “Oh c'est froid.”

How had she gotten all the way out here? Father would be angry. He needed all the help he could get at the auberge, and a sick daughter was the last thing he needed to worry about.

The sky was getting lighter. The sun would be up soon. She started back towards the village at a run, slowed down to a fast walk when her head began to hurt.

“Waeric peut savoir quoi fair,” She thought about her uncle, and a smile formed. He would be here soon according to his letter; maybe even tonight. She liked her uncle. He was such a jolly fellow, and would always let her play with Larry, much to both their delights. Maybe this time he would even teach her some magic!

She started to jog, not paying heed to her headache. She was too excited…

(Phil)

Bur'k was the first to find Lyr. The tiny fairy had shifted into her larger form and was perched in the branchs of a nearby tree. She was pointing into the forest, screaming frantically. "He's gone!" she screamed. " The shadows came alive and just took him. The shadows came alive!"

" No more scream, little fairy. No one hurt when Bur'k is near."

Shaking off the memory of the bizarre and frightening dream, Ylaesa surveyed the camp and forest when a chill crept through her. Why hadn't the others awakened? She could see the still forms of Waeric and Deitrich. Delos still slept within the shelter, the faint glow of her time spell still pulsing about him. Something was wrong.

" Bur'k." she whispered. The tone of Ylaesa's voice was enough to send a warning. Bur'k picked up a heavy tree branch and waited. Nothing happened. He turned to the elf who had silently made her way to the two sleeping men. She shook Waeric, then Deitrich, neither of them stirred.

" Lyr come down? Go at fire." Bur'k mumbled, then turned to enter the forest. Lyr screamed again.

" Nooo! Please don't leave or the shadows will get you too!"

Bur'k hesitated for but a moment then returned to camp. " No worry, little fairy. Bur'k will protect." he turned to Ylaesa, " Elf lady look at Delos, Bur'k wakes up others. Sun comes. We go early." Ylaesa did not hide her confusion.

" How will you wake them? Is this some kind of magic? " She seemed very worried. Bur'k simply shrugged.

" Bur'k not know magic but Bur'k has idea. Elf lady go make Delos good for travel." Ylaesa paused. Bur'k met her eyes for the first time since they met. His eyes held hers with force that she could not identify. So powerful, she felt as though she were staring into the night itself...falling...

" Now." he added. Ylaesa broke free of his gaze, quickly fleeing, to tend to Delos.

Bur'k stared down at the two sleeping men. Despite all noise and movement, the two had not stirred. This was most deffinitely some sort of enchantment but to what end. Bur'k pondered for a moment, coming quickly to a decision. There was only one way he knew to wake up a person deep in sleep. Grabbing the waterskin, Bur'k emptied the cold contents onto both sleeping men. They were awake in an instant.

" Gods damn you, what are you doing?" screamed Deitrich. Waeric simply sat in stunned silence. Bur'k smiled.

" Elf lady see? Maybe Bur'k know some magic after all."

The small group travelled at a steady pace, stopping only for a quick mid day meal and water. At this rate, they would make Moon Haven just after mid day. Bur'k carried Delos' bundled form gently in his arms. Delos had not woken up that morning. Ylaesa checked on him frequently, assuring the others that there was no need to worry. She did not tell them however, that if her magic failed...Delos was dead.

Lyr took time during the journey to explain the events of the past night." I had just curled up in the branches of an old tree, " she said quietly, " when I noticed the strangest thing. There were shadows moving about the forest near the body of that terrible man who tried to kill Deitrich. Suddenly, the shadows picked up his body and carried it off into the forst." Lyr looked very serious, telling her tale from atop Deitrich's shoulder. " I tried to call but no one had answered. I even tried to get Ylaesa but her eyes were glowing strangely and she wouldn't move. Then a shadow came out of the forest. It was creeping over to Waeric and Deitrich and bur'k was at the other end of camp so I started to scream. The shadow disappeared into the forest with the arrow that Ylaesa used to kill the man."

" You may have saved us all. " Waeric said, after Lyr had finished her tale. " I was able to detect a faint magic about our camp, and part of the forest, this morning. It was fading, even as we woke. I can't identify the type of magic used, it's something I haven't seen before but it has a familiar feel to it. I'll be glad when we get to Moon Haven. I've been away for too long."

(Brenda)