It had been only twenty minutes or so since the fierce battle at the graveyard of cairn stones.  Maeve and Kai were making good speed, but Eric’s wounded leg seemed to be slowing him - and by default Christine as well, who was worrying over him enough for four people.  The House of Broken Dreams could be seen through the barren vegetation, marked by areas concealed by numerous evergreens, including some ballnut trees.  The building itself was about a hundred paces long and half that deep, and two stories tall.  The ground floor was made of mortared fieldstone, and the top floor of wood and plaster, with cedar shingles on the roof - and as Maeve knew well, there were at least a few levels of basements fashioned into dungeons beneath the surface.   Although the building was of good construction, it seemed squat and un-appealing from the outside, its gray walls and dull brown roof blending in with the barren background of the snowy northern forest.   To Maeve, it seemed like it was just a visual trick, but the windows on the second floor of the House seemed more like many hateful, watchful dark eyes, spying the surrounding woods for enemies.  

 

      “We’re here.”  Maeve said, looking uneasily about.  “I don’t see any guards.  Do you, Kai?”

 

      Kai looked.  “No - the place seems closed up tight.  No servants wandering the grounds, no guards.  Perhaps they Bishop Vargas and the Lady of the House threw everything they had at us, except for themselves?”

 

      “Maybe.”  Maeve replied.  “Let’s go invite ourselves in.  There’s an easy entrance around back near the kitchen and laundry area.”  Maeve led the four of them to the entrance, and pulled out the set of lockpicks Anvi had given her earlier, and quietly picked the lock.  The door swung open... the laundry area was empty - not a single servant was to be seen.   “The way is clear - let’s go.”

 

      Maeve and Kai drew their shortswords and moved inside first, with Eric and Christine following behind.  Maeve took a moment to bolt the door behind them, and Eric and Christine followed Kai and Maeve as quietly as they could.  It wasn’t far to the hall containing the Dreamers.   As the group of four headed down the short hall from the kitchens and laundry to the temple(s interior, they hear the clarion calls of a hunting horn ringing three times, in the distance.  

 

      “Sounds like we might not be so alone soon, after all.”   Maeve said, grimly.  “Our absence must have been noted in Ogden-town.   Perhaps we’re being followed by Sir Andred?”

 

      “Is that the bastard who clubbed me unconscious?”  Asked Kai.  “Cause if it is, we had better do this and be gone soon.  I’m not eager for a rematch.   He was far more skilled than a hinterlands town like Ogden deserves.”

 

      “I’m not sure.  I AM sure I don’t want to find out.  Let’s move.”

     

*          *          *

 

      Sir Andred called his men to a halt, and behind him Sir Carmichael and ten men-at-arms pulled up and stopped.   Before them lay a scene of bloody carnage... perhaps as many as twelve freshly killed bodies or men and women lay on the rocks and thin covering of blood-spattered snow.   Four of them were obviously guardsmen from the House of Broken Dreams, and the others Acolytes and servants from the same place.  His experienced eye showed all had been violently killed, except two, who seemed to have been killed after the battle ended.   

 

 

      “What do you make of this, Sir Carmichael?  It looks as if Maeve Varda and her allies were here.  The archer that killed Sir Tarren was obviously at work with at least four of these dead souls - and Maeve certainly did for some of the others.   I find it hard to believe that two injured people could kill a dozen fresh ones.”

 

      “Well milord, we already believe their servants helped them escape - perhaps they killed a few of these sorry bunch.  Gods know how - perhaps they used sorcery.   We should have caught and killed them when we had the chance.”   Sir Carmichael looked angry - not at Sir Andred(s decision, but that foes he nearly had in his grasped had eluded him, and now had killed again.

 

      One of the men-at-arms who had been examining the bodies of the dead called over to the two Valdan knights.  “Milords, this man and two others seems to have been killed by a musket ball, or something similar.  I’ve seen wounds like it once in a skirmish a year ago against Madragan mercenaries hired to raid merchant caravans.   I don’t know where these heretics could have gotten muskets and shot, but they must have at least four of them if we count the dead correctly.”

 

      “It matters not.”  Sir Andred said.  “The fact that these men lie dead here means that Maeve and her allies, whomever they be, are headed for the House of Broken Dreams which must now lie undefended.  His Grace, the Bishop and the Lady of the House will be left with only a few useless servants to defend themselves.   Obviously this heretic intends to murder the Bishop and flee into the forest afterwards, hoping to escape.  I will not allow this to happen!”   Sir Andred took a beautifully carved and fluted hunting horn from his belt and gave it three long peals.  As the sound echoed about, he called to his men.  “The heretic and her allies must not escape!  Sir Carmichael and I will move ahead to try and catch them before they reach the Bishop.  The rest of you make all haste in following us, and direct any other hunters who heard my horn’s call to assist us.  Capture them if you can, and kill them if you cannot!”

 

      “Aye.”  Added Sir Carmichael.  “And remember these men and women are already murderers.  They killed at least four of your fellow guardsmen, and Sir Tarren as well.  Underestimate them at your own risk.”

 

      “Enough.”  Sir Andred said.  “I lust for revenge for our fallen friends as well - but we need to go now.  Bishop Vargas may need our swords... Let’s ride!”  With that, the two knights spurred their horses and sped north and west, while the men-at-arms they left behind struggled to catch up to them as best they could.

 

*          *          *

 

      Maeve, Kai, Eric and Christine crept silently through the halls, and found the doors to the dormitory of the Dreamers.   There was no sound, save a quiet murmuring from beyond the door - the Dreamers babble that never stopped even in their eternal sleep.  To Eric, the constant babble of the voices beyond the door sounded familiar - like some of the voices that had been within his head for the last several years.  Now that he knew what they were and where they came from, he felt oddly at ease, despite the precariousness of their combined situation.  

 

      I suppose knowing you’re not crazy should be something to look forward to, but when the alternative is being a person of interest to a horde of demons, the situation looks a little less promising.   Eric grinned, despite the strange turn his thoughts went to.   At least I know.  That’s got to count for something.  If Evil like that can exist, then so can Good.  That’s comforting, at least.

 

 

      Maeve motioned with a hand gesture for the group to stop.   “Eric, Christine... you might want to wait here.  What follows will be more than a little gruesome - necessary, but not something I think you’ll want to bear witness to.”   I wish there was time to do this mercifully.  Thought Maeve.  But we’ll be lucky to get this done and escape with our lives.   If Bishop Vargas or Mistress Awai catch us, there’ll be Hell to pay - maybe literally.

 

      Eric gulped, and a cold sweat broke on his forehead - and he could see the same on Christine, who looked more than a little ill, and looked as if she had just tasted something unpleasant.   Maeve seemed more than a little cold - but he had no doubt she could and would kill the Dreamers...  I just wonder how well she’ll sleep afterwards.  Maybe she’s not one of the good guys after all?  I mean, she did have a plan to kill me - she still might!

 

      Christine gritted her teeth, and grabbed for Eric’s hand, clutching it like a life preserver, as Kai and Maeve crept into the room.   Together they waited, out of sight in the servants hallway, listening as Kai and Maeve moved from bed to bed in the room beyond.   Christine thought for a moment she caught a glimpse of Kai and Maeve, and both of the two adventurers’ faces were stained with tears.  She actually cares that she’s killing these people!  Christine thought, more than a little surprised considering the events of the past few days.   She seemed so cold - and here she’s crying for them, even though they’re a deadly danger as far as they both know.   I don’t understand her at all.  Kai’s seems to be a pretty decent guy - but Maeve’s... complicated.

 

      Maeve and Kai on the other hand, bent to their grim task with cold efficiency, trying to shut out the actuality of what they were doing.  The fact that it was necessary, to protect all of them - and perhaps to save their world - made it easier, but not easy - not easy by far.   By the end - perhaps twenty minutes of grim work - the reaping was done and just under a hundred mageborn Dreamers were leaking their lifesblood into their bedding, and onto the floor.  The floor itself was awash with blood - the coppery taint of it filling the air.  They lay there in their beds, Anorians and Ghaldeans, Rillianers and Haradi, Valdans and Harvon alike - unmoving, unflinching as they bled and died, whether man or woman, young or old.  Their lack of reaction made the scene all the more frightening and horrific.  Maeve hardened herself to the image, but knew it would be one that haunted her for the rest of her days.  Only a dozen of the Dreamers remained - one of them the red haired young woman that was linked to Eric. 

 

      Time to end this, and get out of here...  Maeve thought.  We’ve tarried too long.   Maeve readied her sword and advanced on the final few Dreamers.  Kai on the other hand looked shaken and ill.  The butchers work obviously didn’t sit well with him.   And why should it?  thought Maeve.  He hasn’t been in the situations I’ve been in - this sort of thing should never be easy, no matter the situation.

     

*          *          *

 

      Eric and Christine stood silently in the hallway, afraid to talk, and afraid to look to see what Kai and Maeve were doing.   It had been a while, though - almost twenty minutes - and they were both getting nervous.  Neither wanted to ask what was taking so long - they didn’t even want to think about it.  

 

      Eric bit his lip with worry.  What do we do when they’re done in there?  Run like hell?  To where?   What’s going to happen to us?    He turned to raise his worries with Christine - but before he could he heard voices approaching - and from Christine’s panicked look, so did she...

 

 

      “... must gather the Dreamer and make for the moongate.  If Maeve and her troublemakers come back here, it would be most inconvenient if either she or the boy were killed.  They cannot be allowed to interfere.”   The voice sounded male...  Perhaps that’s Bishop Vargas?   Eric wondered.  

 

      Christine didn’t wait to find out.  Grabbing his sleeve, she half-pulled, half-dragged him into the dormitory beyond the doorway - and stopped dead, shocked by the grisly sight she just bore witness to.  Eric did the same - stunned and pale at the sight of all the blood - virtual streams of it, trickling off the beds of the Dreamers.  Eric felt the gorge rise in his throat, but mastered the urge to vomit.  Christine was not so lucky.  For Eric, the grisly sight of the slain and dying dreamers was frightening, and he found he didn’t want to look weak or scared in front of Maeve and Kai, even if the situation warranted it.  While Christine gagged, Eric got his wits about him, and whispered “We’ve got company!  I think it’s the Bishop!”

 

      Maeve nodded.  Damn!  She thought.  I would have preferred by far it didn’t come to this...  She felt for her Nairya, focussing her thoughts into her battle-trance.  The next few minutes will determine how all of this ends...   “Get behind us, and get down - it’s about to get crazy in here!”

 

      Meanwhile, Kai was readying his bow.  He had the look of someone who fully expected to die, but was damned if they were going to make their dying something easy or their life cheaply taken.  He looked grim, violent, and deadly.  

 

      Eric went to help Christine up, when two strangers entered the room - an elderly man and a woman, both finely dressed, he supposed, and both surrounded by some form of odd glowing energy.  Is this magic I’m seeing?   It reminds me of the jail...  Is that what magic looks like?  The man - probably Bishop Vargas - was wearing an off-white robe, with a gold and purple chasuble and stole marked with the symbols of Isundal the Sky King.   On his left hand was a gold ring set with a yellow gemstone - and on the other was a simple black iron ring.   The old woman with him wore a grey and purple robe, with an ornate disc of wood stained a purple with some form of dye, and inlaid with a disc of onyx.  She had a golden fillet containing her grey hair, and an ornate silver ring set with a plum colored ruby on her left hand.  A dagger was at her belt, though she made no attempt to reach for it.   Both people exuded an aura of being used to command, and neither seemed afraid.   In the distance, Eric heard wood splintering, like a door was being kicked in or hacked apart.

 

      Maeve and Kai didn’t even pause as they entered - Maeve flung a spell at Vargas, and Kai loosed two arrows in quick succession.  Both had the same effect - Vargas and Awai’s magics brushed them aside to no effect.

 

      “Still you plague me, Maeve Varda.  You’re harder to be rid of than a Wolfen with fleas - but now, you face your end...  Even one as skilled as you cannot stand against both Awai and myself.   My Love, take the archer - Maeve is mine...”   With that, Vargas readied himself for battle, raising a Nairya of his own, while Awai came forward, chanting a spell

 

      Maeve looked surprised - not at the Bishops posturing, but that his ward deflected both her spell and Kai’s arrows.   Wards that protected against both physical and magical threats together were very complicated and very difficult to cast and maintain.  “Try to distract him and Awai!”  She yelled - she wasn’t sure to who - Kai, Christine or Eric.  We need any edge we can get.

 

      “Distractions won’t save you, spy!”  Vargas cried, blasting at her with a bolt of fire so hot the whitewash on the walls blistered as it passed by - Maeve dodged it, but only barely, and the bolt struck the bed of one of the remaining Dreamers, killing its occupant instantly and reducing him and the bed he was in to ashes.   Awai raised her hands, and a bolt of dark lightning arced from her palm to strike Kai, who screamed and was knocked back and down a half dozen paces, his bow knocked from his hand.   

     

     

      “NO!”  Eric yelled, and rushed to get between Kai and Vargas, drawing his automatic pistol.  I don’t know how many shots are even left in this thing, Eric thought.  But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Kai or Maeve be killed while I stand around doing nothing!   He raised the gun to fire, and took aim.

 

      Christine in the meantime, was stuck in a panic.  What do I do?   What do I do?  She thought, over and over.  Not knowing what she could do against Awai and Vargas, she ran over to near Eric, and tried to help Kai up.

 

      Maeve finished her dodge, and realized that the situation was more than pretty grim - it was virtually lost.  They were beaten - the only thing to do now was either fight and die, or see if there was some way to salvage the situation...  Then she noticed something behind Vargas and Awai - and got a nasty glimmer of hope...

 

      “So now what, Vargas - you kidnap Eric here, and take him to your dark masters in Hserin, use him to destroy the world of mankind.  Then what?  I mean, you’ll probably kill us - me, Kai, Christine -  What do you get out of it - I mean, what do you give someone who already bears a Black Ring?   What more can the Hserinyar offer you?”   Just a few minutes, please goddess!  Let this airbag talk for like two, maybe three minutes.

     

      Vargas paused.  “You want to know what they offered me?  I spent the greater part of my life following the teachings of Isundal and Askeline - and what did I get for my troubles?  A mediocre position of power in a distant post?  About ten years ago, I realized that it was all for nothing - less than nothing!   When I was approached by people who could assure my advancement, I jumped at the opportunity - and why not?  Here, I was never going to advance - never taste true power.   When they came and promised to teach me sorcery - to wield a Black Ring - I leapt for it.  In the intervening years, I earned the respect from them that I should have had from my countrymen!   You want to know what Awai and I were offered?  How does immortality sound?  That and a seat next to Hrask himself, when he and his mate are reunited - all thanks to Eric and that Dreamer.”   Vargas pointed at Eric and the Dreamer.

 

      Awai laughed.  “You think I care for what gifts the Hserinyar offer?   Lady Delirium has promised me a place at her side, when all this is done.   As the great Drakes Hrask and Tiamat revel in the destruction of the gods of man, Delirium will revel in the chaos, the madness of the battle and the anarchy of the aftermath.   And I will be at her side, my curse lifted and my wounds healed, with Vargas at my side, for all of time.”

 

      The two fanatics looked at the others - Maeve, Kai, Eric and Christine - and followed their gazes back, and to the right - to see Sir Andred and Sir Carmichael standing there - shocked, aghast - and very, very angry.  It was obvious they had heard the whole tirade.

 

      “Well, Fuck.”  Was all Bishop Vargas could think to say.

 

      “Indeed.”  Sir Andred replied.   “To think someone we respected, whom we swore allegiance to - someone whose duty it was to protect the faith and husband its people... You disgust me.  It will be my pleasure to see your head on a pike in Ogden by Nightfall tomorrow.”  He advanced a few steps towards Vargas and Awai.  “Come Sir Carmichael - you wanted revenge for our friend Sir Tarren.  Come and get it.”

 

      “Oh, do shut up!”  Vargas turned his attention from Maeve just long enough to motion Mistress Awai towards the knights.  “Kill them, my love - I’ll deal with our other pests.”

     

      “Yes my love!  This charade ends tonight - and tomorrow we will be as Kings and Queens.”  Without another word, she raised her hand, and another bolt of dark lightning shot from her hands, striking Sir Andred, who screamed and was knocked down.   Sir Carmichael charged, using his large shield as a battering ram, attempting to slam into Mistress Awai.  

 

      He hurtled across the room swiftly, which was surprising considering the size and weight of his heavy armor, and slammed into Awai - or tried.   The shield rush did little harm - but the force of the impact hitting her magical barrier knocked her prone.  

 

      Kai drew and nocked an arrow in one smooth motion - aiming for Bishop Vargas.  Maeve gathered her energy for another mental assault upon the rogue Cleric as well, hoping to overwhelm him with different attacks.   Eric on the other hand, still had his gun aimed at Vargas - but was having difficulty focussing - all the dead Dreamers about him was a violent and bloody reminder about what was at stake, and he found himself unable to concentrate.   Take the damn shot, He thought.  We might not have another chance...

 

      Then the whole room was engulfed in the thunderous sound of gunshots, as Eric’s pistol fired once, twice and a third time as his pistol muzzle spit flame and deadly projectiles.  The first two deflected off Vargas’s magical shield - but the third bullet broke through, and blasted him in the upper thigh on his right side.  Vargas screamed and went to one knee - but miraculously his barrier held.

 

      Sir Andred stood up, and readied himself to aid Sir Carmichael - while Maeve loosed her mental bolt at Vargas.   His shield held - again - but it was clear his defences were weakening.  Which is good, because if I cast too many more of these psychic blasts, I’m going to be in serious trouble.  It won’t do any good to win the battle if I lose myself to the Call of Hrask.  Maeve thought.  She could feel she was at the edge of her limits - much more of this, and she would be at serious risk.

 

      Awai reached out and brushed her hand against Sir Carmichael’s shield, calling out a prayer to Lady Delirium.  Dark energy surged from her hand.  His body flashed with great light for a moment, like he was lit within by a bright light - and then it was over.  Where a moment before a knight of Valris had been, was now a charred corpse clad in blackened, twisted remnants of chainmail armor.   Awai laughed - a high pitched laugh tinged with what sounded like madness.

 

      Kai loosed his arrow, and it flew straight and true.  With Vargas’s barrier weakening under Eric’s gun, Maeve’s magic and his arrows, they might just have a chance to prevail!   The arrow struck Vargas in the upper left arm - a glancing blow, but one that seemed to distract him a bit with pain, and rob him of some of his precious concentration.  If I can disrupt his Nairya, Maeve can drop him, I’m sure of it.   He stood up from behind the bed he had taken cover behind, and aimed what he hoped would be the telling shot.

 

      Vargas cursed under his breath.  I could deal with the Askelinian bitch’s magic if that thrice-damned archer was out of the way.   And I’ll have to stop Eric from firing that strange pistol at me again... How in the seven hells can it fire so many times without reloading?   Vargas gathered his power to hurl a blast of fire that would incinerate whomever it hit.   “Let us end this, Maeve!”  He said, aiming towards her... and then fired the blistering bolt not at Maeve, but at Kai, who was out in the open, with no cover.

 

 

      Four things happened in quick succession at that moment.  Kai saw the bolt of flame coming, and knew he couldn’t dodge it in time.  It seemed like it was radiating with the heat of the sun... Knowing he was about to die, he started to make peace with his gods.  Maeve screamed “NO!”, and launched a bolt of pure mental force at Bishop Vargas... She hadn’t used spells of that strength very often, but when she had used them, normal men at least, had had their minds turned to ash.   Maeve saw her bolt hit Vargas and spin him around, screaming in pain as he tumbled to the ground.  Maeve felt with sick certainty she would be burying another friend all too soon.  It made her feel nauseous, and guilty.  Sir Andred called out a prayer to the Twins, Feana and Hathor - and charged Mistress Awai, his sword shining seemingly of its own light.  His blade sheared through her magical barrier like tissue paper, and buried itself in her chest.  She staggered, and her magical shield winked out.  Blood leaked from around her mouth, and from her fatal sword wound.  She fell to her knees, coughing up blood, and looked up at Andred, the light slowly fading from her eyes.  And Eric, seeing the bolt coming for Kai, threw himself in its path.   It struck him dead center, and his screams echoed throughout the chamber as he instantly caught on fire, and was lit from knees to neck like a human bonfire.

 

      Sir Andred looked at Awai, and said “Witch, know this.  I am a Vigilant of the Third Circle, a Hand of Hathor.  My spirit is pure - your dark magics are no barrier to my wrath.  Prepare for your death, and may your dark goddess treat you as you treated others in this life.”  With that, he yanked his blade out of Awai’s chest, and beheaded the kneeling, dying priestess before her body could strike the ground.

 

       Christine saw Eric get hit by the fire bolt, and screamed “Look out!” even as Eric fell to the floor, burning.  Gotta put the fire out!  She thought, knowing it was probably already too late.   Not like this - not like his friends.  Dammit! 

     

      Maeve, not looking to see what happened - she couldn’t bear to see it - fired another bolt into Vargas.  There was no finesse, no talent - just raw rage and raw power.   Maeve blasted him again and again - and eventually he lay still.   She stood there, huffing and puffing with the exertion, her mind feeling like it was scratched raw by sandpaper.  The fatigue of spellcasting left her feeling weak, like a kitten, and barely able to stand.  It was only then she realized the battle was over - and it wasn’t Kai who was dying from Vargas’s bolt of fire.

 

      “Eric!”  Maeve called out.  “No!  Dammit!”  She rushed over to Kai and Christine, who were trying to put out the flames.  Christine was crying, saying  “Why?  Why?  Why?” over and over again.  Kai looked stricken...  “He... he jumped in front of the flames for me... Why?”   Kai had faced death so many times, he knew it like a lover - he had not been ready for her embrace, but he had accepted it... and to have Eric leap in front of the bolt meant for him, when he had neither reason nor duty to do so, struck him to the core with its generosity and valor. 

 

      Sir Andred watched the drama play out for a moment.  Perhaps there’s more to this tale than I first believed.   His grace, a traitor to both church and country, and Mistress Awai the same.   All these murdered Dreamers is yet another factor - one for which Maeve will need to explain herself in front of a Tribunal.  I suspect that unless she has a good reason, it’ll be the gallows for her.  Too bad about the young lad - he showed courage.

 

      It was then one of the Dreamers began to scream - a young Valdan woman, like she was dying herself.  What was more terrifying was that her screams were in perfect sync with the screams of the young man dying of his burns on the floor before him.   Sir Andred made the sign of the Compact, and swore.  There is more to this than meets the eye, but I’ll be damned if I can figure it out...

           

*          *          *

 

 

      All Eric could feel, after he leapt in front of the fire bolt, was pain.   The flames caught him in the lower torso and burned deep within him, like a hot knife through butter.   He almost laughed at the simile...  “Like a knife” he croaked...  It was ironic.   I’m going to die.  He thought.   Like Norm.  Like Dave.   I don’t want to die.   The pain was unbelievable - but the smell was worse.  All Eric could smell was cooking bacon - which made him want to laugh until he realized it was the smell of himself on fire.

 

      He could vaguely see and hear Christine freaking out nearby, even as she tried to pat out the flames scorching him with a purloined blanket.   Kai was trying to help Christine, and was trying to tell him ‘It would be all right’ and that ‘...he was going to make it.’   He couldn’t see Maeve.  Funny, Eric thought.  Why would Kai lie like that?   The pain was incredible, and he could smell scorched flesh and hair - his own no doubt.  He didn’t even know how he was remaining conscious.   Then the wensin root balm Kai was slathering over his body dulled the pain somewhat, enough for him to try and talk a bit.   Even as the balm took effect, the Dreamers screams muted to dull whimpers.

 

      “Gaaah, that hurts.”  Eric said to Kai and Christine.   “I guess I’ve had better ideas, huh?”

 

      “You think!?”  Christine said.

 

      Kai looked at Eric and his wounds, and turned to Christine.  “If you have anything to say, I suggest you say it soon.”  Kai looked choked up.  “Thank you, Eric - for saving my life.”

 

      “De nada...” said Eric.  “You’re too cute to die...I wish...”  He coughed up something rough, and turned to Christine.  “I don’t think I’m going to get you back home, Christine.  Sorry...”

 

      Christine shook her head.  “No - you can’t give in, dammit.  I was supposed to protect you, not the other way around.   You’re my charge - you’re practically my little brother by proxy... Please, don’t die!”   She begged Eric - but even she knew it was out of his hands.  His wounds were really bad.   “Maeve - you have magic!  Is there anything you can do?”

 

      Maeve watched the drama unfold before her in a numb haze... It’s like I’m losing Nile all over again...  I can’t do it again.  I can’t!   Maeve looked for a moment like she was going to bolt from the room.  Then she steeled herself.  It’s not Nile - it’s Eric, and I need to do something!   She paused a moment, and saw the red-haired Dreamer - the Valdan girl linked with Eric.  Maybe their link is strong enough to help?  She thought.

 

      Not wasting a second, she rushed to Eric’s side, gently pushing Kai aside to make room.   She hushed Christine, and gently took Eric’s burnt and crispy head in her hands.  He moaned in pain - as did the Dreamer linked to him.  Maeve swore as one of Eric’s ears crumbled off in her palm like crispy bacon.   “Listen to me, Eric.”  She said.   “You’re linked to a Dreamer - if you look you can feel her lifeforce - feel the link tying you two together.  Can you feel it?”

 

      Eric tried to concentrate, but it was so hard... His body felt aflame, and every limb and inch of his body hurt with incredible agony; only the healing salve Kai had applied allowed him to think at all.   As he tried to feel for the link, he felt his connection with his body seem to lessen - the pain seemed farther away, less insistent.   “I feel it, I think.”  He whispered, unsure if Maeve or the others could hear him.

 

      “Good.”  Said Maeve.   “Reach for it, and try to draw some energy from it - to strengthen yourself.   If you draw her power into you, you should be all right.”   Eric didn’t respond to Maeve’s voice - he had gone still, and limp.

 

 

      “I don’t think he can hear you.”  Said Christine.  “Can he hear you?”   She looked frantic and worried.

 

      Kai said “He’s fading, Maeve - do something!”

 

      Maeve, unsure if Eric could even hear her, realized she would have to use magic to make sure Eric could hear her.   Who cares if I’m running the ragged edge of my Threshold?  She thought.  I’m not letting Eric die when I might be able to help him!   Maeve sent her commands into his mind with her power, casting a spell to let her words be heard, even if his ears were too damaged to perceive them.  Try to draw her strength to you, Eric - her strength should help you heal.  She was sure he heard her, but she heard no reply in return.

 

 

*          *          *

 

      Eric was drifting in what seemed an empty dark place - not the silvery darkness of the Void, but something less frightening - like a dark room in a empty house.   He could sense the silvery cord tying him to the Dreamer too, although he couldn’t see her.  Everything hurt so bad - his body was one raw wound - and yet he could still feel the arrow wound in his arm, underneath the burns.  Then he heard Maeve’s voice, in his mind - like before.   Try to draw some strength from her... How?!   Eric wasn’t sure.   The pain began to lessen, and Eric was trying to decide if that was good, or bad, when he heard a young girl(s voice.

 

      “Well, Eric, you seem to have gotten yourself into a pretty bad situation.”   The speaker seemed to be a young woman of about 14 or 15 years of age, with long, dark black hair, and green eyes.  She was wearing a simple green dress - like what Eric had seen in pictures of Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt wearing, back home.  Like the pictures of Artemis, she carried a curved bow, and at her belt was a set of keys of all colors that looked as if they were made of glass.  

 

      “Who... who are you?”  Eric didn’t know what was happening, but he was sure he wasn’t crazy.   “Am I dead?”   All he felt was an unnatural calmness - there was a strange serenity that surrounded the young woman, which he couldn’t help but be affected by.

 

      “Not quite - not yet.”  She said.  “And you can call me Seleni.”   She walked over to Eric, and helped him stand.   As she did, all the pain he felt a few moments ago fell away from him.  He felt whole.  

 

      Eric was about to say something, when he remembered what Maeve told him about their religion.   “You’re the Goddess, right - one of the Ladies of Mercy.   I’m going to die aren’t I?”

 

      “I am.  You are.  But it doesn’t have to be today...  Do you want to live?”   The goddess Seleni smiled at him, and he felt at ease.

 

      “Yes...  I want to live.”   Eric never felt any more sure of anything in his life.   He knew he wasn’t crazy - and he wanted to live life.  He wanted a second chance.

 

      “Then take the cord, and follow it to its end.  I promise, you will awaken, healed and without pain.” The young woman - goddess smiled at Eric; it was a knowing smile that promised, somehow, that the future will be better - even without her saying a word.

 

      Eric nodded.  “Thank you... Ma’am.   I’m sorry; I don’t know how to act in a situation like this.” 

     

     

      “It’s alright Eric...  I understand you are a stranger to our ways.  I only hope that you will give my people another chance to show you their true nature, and not take the tragedy of the last few days as the norm on Mercia.”

 

      “I suppose I could.”  Eric said.   “Ummm... I’m sorry, but can I ask you a question, Goddess?  My Mom... is she here, in the afterlife?”

 

      “I’m sorry, Eric.  Your mother is beyond my sight, and my reach.   All worlds have their own Gods and Goddesses, and only very rarely do they go wandering in the Void.   If she is anything like you, I’m sure she is in a good place, and at peace.  Fear not - the visions sent by the demons of the void can only harm you if you allow them - if you give them purchase in your heart, and allow their cancer to take hold.   If you foster Hope, they cannot harm you.  They are lies - and lies can only lead you astray if you allow them.”

 

      Eric felt tears roll down his cheeks.  Mom’s okay.  Mom’s okay.   “Will I see her again?” 

 

      “Perhaps, Eric.  Everyone chooses their own Fate, and not even the Gods can see the whole of the future, although Morian, my colleague, may at times attempt to do so.  What must concern you now is whether you will live or die.”   Seleni gestured for Eric to go...  “Follow the cord, and live, Eric.  From what I see of your mother in your mind, it is what she would have wanted.  Tomorrow’s worries are for tomorrow; do not borrow against the troubles of another day.”

 

      “Oh, and Eric...  Let Maeve know that she is forgiven.  She’ll know what it means, when it’s time for her to understand.  She may have given up on Us - but We have not given up on her.”

 

      Eric nodded, only half understanding what Seleni - the Goddess - said.   He followed the cord.   As he followed it along its silvery length, Seleni faded from view, and he was left in the darkness lit only by the cord itself.   He had the impression of falling at great speed towards a light - and then everything went black.

           

*          *          *

 

      Maeve held Eric’s head, staring into his eyes, as if just the force of her will could make him live.  Christine clutched Eric’s burnt hand, and she was crying, saying “Please, no...” over and over.  Kai simply stood behind Maeve, looking stricken, tears falling from his eyes.  Eric gave one last shudder, and then was gone.   Maeve collapsed crying, and Kai clasped her should to lend her strength.   Christine just wailed, mournfully.  Eric was dead.

 

      Sir Andred watched from a distance away, unsure if he should interrupt their moment.   He decided to wait - a small mercy perhaps, but you only got one chance to say goodbye, in his experience.   He moved to Sir Carmichael, and gently closed his eyes.   “Goddess watch over you, my friend.   You got your vengeance - and the villain responsible for Sir Tarren is dead.”

 

      Before he could do anything more, he noticed Christine had stopped her wail, and rose with a fury - a sight not lost on Kai or Maeve as well.   She stopped to pick up Eric’s stolen handgun, and marched over to Bishop Vargas’s body...   It seemed he was still alive, trying in vain to draw something - write something in his own blood on the floor before him.  Maybe a spell?

 

 

      Without even pausing, nor even saying a word, Christine walked up to him, aimed - and emptied the magazine into his body, one round after another.  Bullet after bullet tore into Bishop Vargas’s body, until the gun chamber clicked empty.   She was still pulling the trigger a half minute later when Kai took the empty pistol from her hands.   Christine knew she was going into shock - but she couldn’t help it.  All she wanted to do was kill this son of a bitch who brought this disaster upon her and Eric...  She clutched Kai and hugged him crying...

           

*          *          *

     

      Eric felt himself lying in bed, thin cotton - or was it linen - sheets covering him.  Weird, he thought.  I don’t hurt at all.   What he did feel, he realized, was that he was hungry and thirsty, and his throat felt raw and sore.  He felt weak, too, like there was little strength in his limbs.   He could hear Christine crying nearby, and Maeve and Kai muttering quietly. 

 

      “What’s everyone crying about?”  He asked as he tried to sit up - and as he did, he knew something was wrong...  For starters, his voice sounded well... wrong, rough yet higher pitched than before - and he couldn’t see for all the long red hair in his face.  As he brushed it out of his face, he knew what he was going to see when he looked - a thought confirmed when he saw himself - in the body of the young Dreamer - and his old, burnt body lying on the floor a few paces away.  “Holy Shit!”

 

      Eric looked at Maeve, and Kai, Christine and even Sir Andred.   All of them were staring in shock - Sir Andred fell to his knees and began praying - but Eric couldn’t understand him...  Duh!  Of course not!   He thought.  You’re not wearing the translation amulet anymore.   “Christine!”  He called.  “I don’t know how, but it’s me, Eric.”   His new female voice felt scratchy, rough and dry, like he’d been talking for days.  It sounded like a raspy croak - just in a timbre he wasn’t used to. 

 

      Christine was sobbing into Kai’s chest, sobbing over Eric’s death, when she heard someone speaking English...  Pulling away from Kai, she looked over and saw a young woman - the red-head Maeve said was linked to Eric, trying to sit up.   I thought Maeve said that Dreamers never wake up... and how the hell does she speak English?   Christine was totally confused - until the Dreamer called her name, and claimed to be Eric.

 

      “Eric?  Who the hell are you?  Eric’s dead!”  She didn’t know what kind of trick this was, but she wasn’t happy about it.  Is this possible?   Oh God, please be Eric!

 

      “What!?”  Said Kai.  “What is she saying?  I can’t understand her.”  

 

      Maeve, realizing something very strange had just happened, walked over to Eric’s dead body, and carefully pulled the Translation amulet from his corpse, its scorched cord crumbling to ash as she pulled it from Eric’s body.  She walked to the dreamer, and put it in her left hand, closing her fingers around it.   “Hold this - it might help.”

 

      “Thanks Maeve.”  Eric said - and realized that this time, Kai, Maeve and Sir Andred could understand him.  

 

      Kai looked at the young woman on the bed - who Christine had been yelling at - and asked “Who are you?   How... how did you wake up?”    Kai was obviously confused - but like Sir Andred, had the look of someone who may have been in the presence of a miracle.

 

 

      “Ummm.”  said Eric.  “I’m Eric.  I was in a dark place, and I met this young woman wearing green.  She had a bow and some keys made of glass - and she said if I wanted to live, I needed to follow the link - just like I heard you say before I uh... died, I guess, Maeve.   She said she was called Seleni - she seemed really nice.   She asked if I wanted to live or die - and I said live.   And now I’m a girl, for god’s sake.  What the hell happened?  I thought you said it would heal me if I tapped the link, not put me in her body!”

 

      “I... don’t know why it happened, Eric.”  Maeve said, confused as hell, but happy Eric was still amongst the living, even if he... she was different.   “I think you were visited by the Goddess, and she chose to save you.  I don’t know what else it could be.”

 

      “It’s a miracle!”  Sir Andred said.  “The Goddess herself must have given you a second chance.   I don’t know why she chose to place you in that Dreamer - but it’s a miracle from Heaven!  A Dreamer Shall Wake!   A Dreamer Shall Wake!”   He stared at Eric, still on his knees, praying - a beatific expression on his face.  

 

      Kai also didn’t know what to say.  “I for one, don’t know what happened either, but I am glad you are alive, even if you are different.”   Indeed, he was grateful that the Goddess saw fit to give Eric another life - but he didn’t understand why she couldn’t heal his old body instead of putting him into the body of the Dreamer.   “Thank you for saving my life...”  Kai gathered Eric into a hug, and held him tight for a moment, before releasing him.  “I owe you my life, Eric.”

 

      Eric blushed and looked more than a bit embarrassed.  “You... you’re welcome?”  She turned her eyes from Kai’s, looking away bashfully, and back to the others, looking a bit uncomfortable.  What Eric wasn’t saying was how he felt when Kai held him... tingly was the only word that came to mind.  That and nice.

 

      Christine didn’t know what to believe.  Is this possible?   Maeve, Awai and Vargas had a spell-fight that would have given Industrial Light and Magic a run for their money, and the Dreamer who was never supposed to wake up is now up, and speaking fucking English for Pete’s sake.   What the hell is going on?   Then she realized that if Eric was in this Dreamer, and his old body was dead...  Eric was stuck like that for the rest of his... her life.

 

      “Eric... is that you?”  She asked.

 

      “Yeah.  I think so.  And I’m glad I’m alive too, Kai.”

 

      “Say something only Eric would know... please.  Just humor me.”

 

      Eric paused.  “Ummm...  Well, when you bought me a coffee the day that... that you found me, I asked for it Black, with no poison.   And at the hospital I told you it was pretty funny for a girl who snorted chocolate milk through her nose.”   Eric still couldn’t bring himself to talk about Norm and Dave - especially not so close to his own crisped body.

     

      She didn’t know how to explain it, but that was Eric in there.   “You... You’re Eric.”

     

      Everyone was quiet for a few minutes, as what had just happened sunk in, until Eric broke the silence.   “Umm.  Could I get something to eat or drink?  I’m starving.”

 

      Maeve nodded.  “No wonder.  It’s hard to get Dreamers to eat or drink without help.”  She said as she grabbed for her pack to dig out some food.   “Most are fed nothing but fruit juice or fortified broth - it sustains them, but only just.  It’s not that they’re being punished – it’s just that it’s hard to get someone who’s asleep to chew their food and swallow it without choking.”   She pulled out a small, part loaf of fresh bread and a small piece of sausage.  “Take small bites, and chew it well before you swallow.  It may have been many years since your new form has eaten solid food - you don’t want to get sick.”

 

      Eric nodded, and the long red hair flopped back into his face.  He muttered an imprecation and dragged it back out, and took the bread and sausage from Maeve.   Christine couldn’t help but chuckle.

 

      “What’s so funny?  Aside from the obvious.”  Eric asked.

 

      “Nothing - just the obvious.”  Christine answered.   “And I’m imagining the look your sister is going to give me when I finally get you back home and she realizes you can share her clothes now.”

 

      “Har de har har.”  Eric took a bite of bread and chewed it slowly.  I suppose I could.  Strangely - or perhaps not so strangely, the thought appealed to him.

 

      Kai smiled, and looked at Maeve.  “It seems even death cannot keep these two(s spirits down.   What’s our next move, Maeve?”   

 

      Maeve thought, and said “A moment, Kai... I believe we need to deal with Sir Andred before we decide anything.”  Maeve walked over to Sir Andred, who was just now rising to his feet, still snatching glances at the new Eric, with a look of religious reverence.   

 

      “Are we going to have a problem with you, Sir Andred?”   Maeve asked.

 

      “That depends.”  Sir Andred answered.  “Who are you?  Why are you and your friends here?”

 

      “I work for the Council of Hierarchs in Arathel.   I’m an investigator for the Church, a ‘problem solver’ if you will, and I discovered that something was very, very wrong here about a week ago.  I’ve spent the rest of that week either trying to figure out what was going on with the dreamers, or trying to stay alive from attacks by wizards, demons, or you and your friends.”

 

      Andred considered that for a moment.  It had the ring of truth to it, and combined with what he had just seen transpire in this place, he believed her.  “What is the meaning of all these slain Dreamers?  Did you kill them, or did Vargas and Awai?”

 

      “I did, though I wish I didn’t have to.  They were mageborn - all of them, including the few left over in that part of the room - perhaps eight of them remain alive, out of nearly a hundred.” 

 

      Andred paled.   “A hundred mageborn Dreamers... Then you did what you had to do.”   He knew the dangers even a single mageborn Dreamer could pose... He paled to think of what a hundred could do.  “Vargas claimed you were a Heretic, when we first met, you and I.  I want you to know I didn’t know he was a traitor.”

 

      “Thank you.”  Maeve said.  “I believe you.  You seem like a good man.  I’m sorry we had to kill your friend, but we had no choice.  Vargas had to be stopped.   I need to return to Arathel, with my friends, to inform the Council of what has transpired here.”

 

      “I’m sorry about Sir Tarren as well, but I understand.  He will be sorely missed - but Vargas and Awai are the real villains here.  Goddess bless you, and may Isundal’s unwinking eye watch over you as you travel, Maeve Varda - and may your travels keep you far from Ogden town for some time.”

 

      “Indeed.”   Maeve chuckled, then turned to the others.   “We should gather up our supplies, and make for Wethom.  Eric, can you walk?”

 

      Eric tried to stand, and found he could - only barely.  Not only was his center of balance totally wrong and different, his legs felt like they could barely support him - like he was as weak as a kitten - which was probably true, considering his emaciated state.   It was weird - the room looked larger - because he was smaller, no doubt - and everything was just a bit off compared to before...  But he wasn’t burnt to a crisp, and he was alive.  He considered that a fair trade.   “I think I can stand, but I’m not sure how far I can walk.  Sorry.”

 

      Kai looked at Maeve.  “You’re not still thinking the Moongate, are you?”

 

      “What?  Hell no.”  Maeve said.  “There’s no rush anymore.  Perhaps we should head to Ogden town and hire a sleigh and a team of horses, and make for Wethom, where we can rest, regain our strength - and where Eric can get used to her new self for a few days before I have to leave for Arathel.”

 

      “What about the rest of us?”  Christine asked.   “What do we do?”

 

      “I was thinking that perhaps you could rest, and help each other recuperate somewhere safe, while I reported to my superiors.  Then I’d return as soon as I was able to see how you were doing, and when it was safe and practical, take both of you - and you too, Kai, if you want to come - to Arathel to speak to the Council of Hierarchs about this whole ordeal.”

 

      Eric didn’t know what or where ‘Wethom’ was, but he assumed it was a town, away from Ogden and the House of Broken Dreams.   “Sounds better than staying here.” He said.

 

      Maeve nodded, and she and Kai began making arrangements to get the four of them to Ogden town, where they would arrange transportation to Wethom.   Maybe Sir Andred would even help us get to Ogden town?  She thought.   Although I don’t suppose we should push it...

 

      “Umm... Aren’t we forgetting something?”  Asked Eric, who was pointing at his original body, lying burnt and dead on the floor.  “Could we at least bury the old me?  I don’t want to be left laying here in all this blood.  Its gross - and I’d feel better, I think, than just leaving it here.”