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, it’s 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 it’s 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, it’s 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.