Christine and Eric were awoken the next morning by an insistent knock on their door.  As they groaned, and consciousness began to impinge itself upon them, they could start to hear Kai on the other side of the door.   “Wake up!  It’s time we were off.”

 

      Eric clutched her head and moaned.  “We’re up... we’re up.  Oww.”   The room was still dim - the first touch of dawn was on the horizon.  “It’s still early.”

 

      “Holy crap.”  Said Christine, climbing out of bed.  “You are a lightweight.   We hear you Kai.”

 

      “Good.”  Kai answered.  “If you want breakfast before we leave, I suggest you be downstairs in the next twenty minutes, because we’re going to be on the road in thirty.  It may be early, but we have a long ways to go.”

 

      “We’d better get down there if we want food.”  Christine said.  “Maeve sounds draconian enough that she’d leave without us if we weren’t finished.  Besides, you need some food in you.”

                             

      “Urg...  I’m not sure I can eat.”  Eric felt nauseous.  My tongue feels hairy and my head is killing me!  If this is an hangover, on one stupid beer... gah.  Maybe my body just isn’t used to normal food yet?

 

      The two cleaned up with the pitcher of water and washbasin under the nightstand.  The cold water shocked them both awake, making them a bit more alert.   Christine finished getting dressed, and grabbed her stuff, packing her backpack.  Eric did the same.  Even though Christine had chided Eric about getting some food into her, she wasn’t really sure about eating much herself.  The swaying motion of the horse hadn’t been very relaxing the last few days, and the food from last night wasn’t really agreeing with her stomach the best.

 

      “We should try.  Maybe something simple, like a piece of toast?”

 

      Eric nodded.  “I think I could manage something like that.”

 

      Noticeably possessed of more balance than the previous night, Eric shouldered her pack and held the door for Christine.  Christine headed out and down, followed by Eric.  Within a few moments they were in the common room of the Inn, and saw Maeve and Kai at a table, drinking a steaming liquid, and eating porridge and sausages, along with wedges of bread.  

 

      “They Live!”   Maeve joked.  “Come on, you two.  Breakfast awaits.”

 

      “You seem in good spirits this morning.”  Eric commented. 

 

      “Well, I didn’t wake up in a dungeon, and no one is trying to kill me.”

 

      “Yet.”  Kai joked, dodging the inevitable blow he figured Maeve would send his way.

 

      Maeve just smirked thoughtfully.  “Well, the day IS young.”

 

      Christine sat down and spooned a bowl of porridge.  It was gloppy white paste - the old fashioned ‘stick to your ribs’ kind - it looked flavourless and bland.   It didn’t taste much better, until Kai took a knife and sliced up some sausage pieces into it.   Eric looked like she was having as much trouble as Christine was at eating it.

 

      “What are you drinking?”  Christine asked.

 

      “Tea.”  Maeve said.  “Keeps us warm - and after last night we thought you and Eric might not want beer.” 

 

      “Tea sounds good.”  Christine poured herself some, and some for Eric.

 

      “So what’s the plan?”  Eric asked.

 

      Maeve took a second to think, and replied  “The plan is we take the horses and ride to Wethom - a large town about three days downriver from here - that’s south, in case you weren’t sure.   During some of the trip we’ll be teaching the two of you how to speak our language without the aid of those amulets, and for some of the trip we’ll be teaching you both some of the basics of how not to get lost and die in the woods - you know, how to avoid basic hazards and such.  We’ll probably ride till nightfall, make camp, then do it all again the next day.”

 

      “Umm, Maeve?  Christine could use some more of that healing balm, if you have any.  Her feet were pretty bad last night.”   Eric mentioned, then turned to Christine.  “I thought you forgot to ask.”

 

      “I did - thanks.  Do we have anymore?  It really helped.”

 

      Maeve grimaced a bit.  “We do, but we’ll have to be a bit more sparing with it.  We don’t have a lot of it, and it’s not cheap.   When I get paid, we can use more - but until we get to Wethom, we’ll need to be a little more frugal with it.”

 

      “Drats.  My feet are killing me.”  Christine rubbed a boot with one hand.

 

      “If you need it when we stop for lunch, I’ll get you some then.”  Maeve said.   “At least you’ll be riding and not walking, right?”

 

      Yeah, Christine joked to herself.  But then I’ll have to use the balm on my ass.

 

      “I noticed you cleaned and curried your horse the day you rescued Maeve and I, Eric.”  Kai mentioned.  “Have you been around horses a lot?  From what Maeve has hinted to me, people on your world use those strange cars I think you called them, instead of horses.”

 

      “Yeah - most people do.  I spent four summers on a horse farm, learning to break foals, care for horses, and learning to ride.  Most of the time I was with my mom, or my sister Angie.  Dad was always busy at work.  It was a good time - but I haven’t been near a horse in geez... six years maybe.  I’m glad to see I remembered it.”

 

      “Hmm.   It’s a good thing to know.   Can you hunt?”

 

      “Uh... no.  I’ve never fired a rifle or used a bow.”  Eric said.

 

      “Me neither.”  Said Christine.

             

      “Looks like I’ll have my work cut out for me, then.”  Kai laughed.

 

      By now all four had finished what they could eat of the porridge, bread and sausage, and finished what there was of the hot tea.   Maeve got up and jingled a small purse.  “I’ll go settle the bill.  Why don’t you all go get saddled up and ready to go?”

 

      Kai nodded, and grabbed his pack, quiver and his hunting bow.  “Come on.”  He said to Eric and Christine.  “The sooner we’re on the road, the sooner we get back home.”

 

      Eric forced one last spoon of porridge in her mouth, then grabbed her pack and rushed to catch up to Christine and Kai, already halfway to the front door.

 

      The stables were small, but fairly well kept.  Only 4 animals were in the Inn’s stable - Maeve and Kai’s purloined steeds, that once belonged to Sir Tarren and Sir Carmichael, and two others - a strong mountain pony covered with heavy, shaggy fur - and a strange creature neither Eric or Christine had ever seen before.  It looked like a nine foot long, five foot high ferret with grey fur - and six legs.   It seemed friendly - but in its stall was a chicken carcass, picked clean - so it was obvious it ate meat.   Eric pointed at it and she and Christine stared for a moment.

 

      Kai noticed the two looking at the creature, and said “I take it you don’t have slinks in your world?”  When the two gave him dumbfounded looks, he laughed.  “Slinks are large ferret like creatures we’ve trained to use as mounts.  They’re very friendly, very mischievous, and very fast - but they don’t have the durability or endurance of a horse.  Messengers and scouts use them primarily, but some people prefer them to horses.  They say they have a smoother ride.   I like them, myself, because if you’re short on fodder, they can be trained to hunt for themselves when you make camp.  And they’re warm if it gets cold.”

 

      “Wow.”  Eric said.  “What a strange animal.  Do they live in the wild too?”  

 

      “Yes.”  Kai answered.  “Sometimes wild ones are pests, plaguing farmers and their herds.  Usually trained hounds can keep the wild ones at bay.  Feral ones have been known to attack people too, but it’s not that common.  Now help me get the horses ready, Eric.”

 

      Christine stood by while Eric and Kai combed, brushed and saddled the horses - she watched them do it, trying to see what they did so that when her turn came, she wouldn’t be totally clueless.  To be honest, she was a little scared of the horses - they were really big animals.  Bigger than she expected in real life.

 

      By the time the saddles were on and cinched, Maeve had appeared.   Without much more ado, everyone took their places, and they rode out of the stables into Ogden town.   Ogden was still waking up slowly, as many towns do.  Delivery persons were making their rounds, while shops were slowly opening one by one as people got ready for their work day.  The sky was clear, the air cool, but with that touch of warmth and hope that says ‘spring is on the way’, rather than the deadly winter cold.   Their breath puffed in the air, but the icicles on the eaves were starting to drip as they began to slowly melt.

 

      As they approached the city gates, Eric and Christine couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be a party of people waiting for them.  Sir Andred was among them, as well as a woman in her early twenties, dressed in a red robe with white trim, and some elaborate silver bracelets.   The rest were made up of 4 men at arms.  Maeve saw them too, and sighed. 

 

      “Let me do the talking, okay?”

     

        Christine whispered “Are we in trouble?”

 

      “No.”  Maeve said.  “At least, I don’t think so.”   She straightened in the saddle, and called out to Sir Andred, somewhat jovially.  “Sir Andred!  I trust we aren’t going to have any trouble this morning?”

 

      Sir Andred shook his head.  “No - I’m here on a more important matter than the borrowing of two steeds that don’t belong to you.  You have in your party the only Dreamer to awaken.  Ever.  When I told Sister Celia, she thought she would like to at least get the young ladies name, for history if nothing else.”

 

      Sister Celia looked rather eager to speak.  “Indeed I would - this is rather momentous, wouldn’t you agree, Serra Varda?   I understand you need to travel quickly, on church business, but I have only a few questions.  Could I trouble your charge to answer a few questions, Serra?”

 

      This might not be a good idea.  Maeve thought.   But being rude might raise more questions, and slow us down in the long run.   “Ask away - but I might have to interrupt if it touches on something sensitive.”

 

      Sister Cecilia looked pleased, and turned to Eric.  “Welcome to Ogden, Serra.  I am Sister Cecilia of the Church of the Ladies of Mercy.  I was wondering if you would mind answering a few questions, for our historical records?”

 

      “Sure, I guess.”  Eric said.

 

      “What is your name?  We haven’t been able to find any records of your past or your family.  Either they were lost, since you fell ill with the sleeping sickness, or...”  She glared at Sir Andred   “... your records were destroyed when someone burnt the House of Broken Dreams to the ground.”

 

      Oh Crap.   I guess I’ll just go with it.  Thought Eric.   “Erica.  My name is Erica van Helstrome.”

 

      “Do you remember where you grew up?”   Sister Cecilia asked.

 

      “Um... no.  Everything’s still a bit foggy.”

 

      “Sir Andred says you had a vision from the Goddess.  Could you tell me a little about that?”  Sister Cecilia looked very interested in what Erica might say next.

 

      Maeve cleared her throat.  “That’s getting a little too near the sensitive parts, Sister Cecilia.”

 

      “I think I can say a little.”  Erica said.   “It was all black and dark - like I was sleeping, and I met a young woman wearing green, with a bow and a ring of glass keys.  We talked a little while, and she asked if I wanted to live.  I said yes.  She seemed very kind.   Just before I woke she asked me to give a message - a private message - to Maeve, when I woke up.  Please don’t ask me about it - I won’t repeat it.”

     

      Maeve, who had been more than a little tense at the way the line of questioning had gone relaxed a bit.  Her answer could have been a hell of a lot worse.  Maeve thought.  Still, if everything is still foggy she could have claimed to not remember her name.  Girl still has to learn about security and a still tongue.

 

      “Really?  Did she say anything else?”

 

      “Umm.  No.  Should she have?”  Erica looked a bit confused.

 

      Sister Cecilia watched Erica for a moment, then shook her head.  “No.  I was just making sure there was nothing left out.  It’s not every day a person receives a divine visitation.  It’s a very important facet of the faith to document such events, so that their implications can be studied and examined.  It’s doubly significant because you are the first Dreamer to ever awaken.   May I ask you a request?”

 

      Maeve looked impatient.  Erica said “If I can, I guess so.”

 

      “If you remember anything more, could you please write it down, so that it is not forgotten?  It could be important to the Faith one day.”  She held out a pouch that looked to contain some parchments, a vial of ink, and some quill pens. 

     

      “I think I can do that, Sister.”  Erica said.  “Thank you.”

 

      “No, thank you my child.  May the Ladies of Mercy bless you all, and the Skyfather watch over you as you travel.”  Sister Cecilia finished the prayer with a bow and some ritual movements - to Eric it looked like something a priest might do back home, so she figured it was a prayer.

 

      Sir Andred had sat there, watching the scene unfold, his eyes glued to Erica.   Kai didn’t know what to make of him.  He didn’t seem attracted to Erica, nor hostile.  It was something else.   I hope it doesn’t mean anything other than fascination with a Dreamer that woke up.  It still boggles my mind, come to think of it - except it really isn’t a Dreamer waking - it just LOOKS that way.

 

      “Well, if that’s all, we need to head south and quickly.  By your leave.”  Maeve kicked her heels in a bit, and her horse carried her and Christine off towards the road.   The men at arms moved respectfully out of her way, and Kai quickly followed.  The road, such as it was, was more a dirt track with deep wagon ruts marking the path.  The ground was still frozen, and only slightly mucky at its worst, so their speed was fairly good.  It wasn’t until they were a few miles down the road, and well out of sight of Ogden town that anyone spoke.

 

      “Erica?”  Maeve said, turning the statement into a question.

 

      “I think it sounds nice.”  Said Kai.  “And it has the added benefit of being easy to remember.”

 

      “You sure about this, kiddo?”  Asked Christine.

     

      “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”  Erica said.   “And it IS the feminine version of my name.  It seemed appropriate given my circumstances, and like Kai said, it’s not like I’ll forget it in the middle of a crisis.”

 

      “Fair enough.”  Maeve said.   “Erica it is.”

 

      After that, the talk turned to languages - and Erica and Christine spent a good chunk of the day with their translation amulets in their pockets, trying to fathom the words and phrases Kai and Maeve were using.  Erica was pretty good at it - she seemed to have a knack for it that Christine couldn’t match, which was more than a little frustrating for the social worker.  

 

 

      I swear, Erica has a streak of luck a mile wide.  Christine thought.  First she has magic - then she survives death - and now she’s learning this damn language like lightning.  What do I get?   Blisters.   Oh well.  At least I don’t have the local priestess doting on my every word.

 

      The next two and a half days passed with little to note.  They travelled from about an hour past dawn till dusk, and made camp.  The road from Ogden town to Wethom travelled along the side of a fairly large river Kai called the ‘Vestal’.  Making camp usually involved gathering wood for a fire, and spending an hour or so foraging for edible plants for themselves or the horses while Kai hunted.  Sleep was difficult for Christine, who wasn’t used to roughing it - but none of the others had any problems.   After the first day, Christine’s feet ceased to bother her, once Maeve applied more balm, which brightened Christine’s mood considerably.

 

      About mid-afternoon on the third day, a small walled city came into view through the trees, at the confluence of three rivers.   The city itself was in-between the forks of the Y-shape the rivers made, which Eric supposed was both convenient for travel and trade, and for defence.  For the last half hour they had been riding through what appeared to be apple orchards - and there had been several cottages and cabins near the road as well.  Some of the people they had seen had waved to Kai.

 

      “Ah, it’s good to be home.”  Said Kai.  “That’s Wethom - home to some fourteen hundred people - more come summertime.  Ruled by the good Lord and Lady Kale, and home of some of the finest taverns and inns in the region.   Oh - and there are some excellent shops and stores to spend money in, once you have some to spend.”

 

      “Do you live in the city?”  Erica asked.

 

      “No - I have a cabin a few miles into the woods, west of town.  When I’m not risking my life with Maeve, I hunt and trap game and sell their furs to make a living.”   He looked genuinely pleased to be back.  “It’ll be great - you’ll see.”

 

      “We should stop in town and pick up a few supplies for you three, especially if you’re going to be at the cabin for most of the time, while I’m heading to Arathel.”  Maeve said.   “Food and some spare clothes for Christine and Erica, if nothing else.” 

 

      “Good idea.”  Kai said.  “But let’s not take too long.  If we’re quick, we can get to the cabin before dark.  Do you have money for the gate tax, Maeve?”

 

      “Aye.  Two horses, a bow and my sword.  It won’t be a problem.”

 

      “What about Erica’s pistol?”  Kai asked.

 

      “Oh.  Right.”  Maeve said.  “I suppose we had best declare that too.”

 

      Christine was a little confused.  “Do they have guns here?  I haven’t seen any?  You and Kai didn’t seem too surprised by it.”

 

      Maeve nodded.  “We have guns.  They are rare and expensive - toys for the rich, mostly.  Most are dart-shooting weapons using very strong springs, that use magazines like Erica’s does, but the Madragans have a fondness for firearms that use a blasting powder to fire a bullet, like Erica’s pistol does.  Their pistols make a lot of smoke, though and can only fire one shot before they need to be loaded - and they load them through the barrel, not in the magazine through the handle.”

     

     

      “And Lady Kale and her husband Lord Kale have a fondness for collecting odd and rare firearms.”  Kai said.  “I’d bet you’d fetch a pretty penny if you sold her that pistol of yours, if you were willing to part with it.”

 

      “Well, she wouldn’t be able to get more bullets for it.”  Erica said.

 

      “Maybe, but she would own the only powder using pistol that can fire multiple times.  She’d still pay through the nose for it.  Just promise me one thing.”  Kai said.

 

      “What?”

 

      “If you do sell it to her, bring Maeve or I along to make sure you get a fair price.  You know so little about local costs she could offer you magic beans and claim it was a fair trade.”  Kai said.

 

      “Hey - it might be, depending on what the magic beans do!”  joked Maeve.

 

      “Believe it or not, but we’ve had some cautionary tales about accepting magic beans as payment on our world.”  Christine said.   “Why does the number of weapons matter?”

 

      “It’s the Gate tax, Christine.”  Maeve replied.  “The Lord and Lady levy the tax to pay for repairs to the sewers, to pay the troops, and repair the streets and towns walls.  It’s a common practice.  Ogden didn’t bother because it didn’t have sewers, large numbers of troops, nor roads worth mentioning.”

 

      The band headed down the river to a stone bridge crossing the Vestal river.  The bridge was made of ornate carved stone, and arched so that its lowest point was about twenty five feet above the surface of the water, and its highest was forty feet above the water.     Small docks and piers were below the bridge, still limned with early spring ice.    South of the city looked to be an open area, covered in melting snow, about two miles square.   Wethom’s walls looked to be made of stone as well, and were fairly tall and thick. The city was well defended for a town of its type and size.

 

      The gate guards didn’t give them any trouble, and gave Kai a warm welcome - and Maeve a somewhat less warm welcome.  As they entered the town, one of the first things Eric noticed was that it seemed much cleaner and less smelly than Ogden.  Probably due to the sewers Kai mentioned.  They’d be pretty well flushed out too, with all these rivers meeting here, I’ll bet.  

 

      As they travelled through the town, Christine once again saw the miniature apartments in what would have been the eaves of houses in our world.  Some had porches, with tiny pieces of furniture, while others seemed to have glass windows, and other things like tiny door knockers and so on.   “Kai, I’ve seen a number of these tiny houses on top of your buildings here.  What are they?  Are they ornamental?”

 

      Kai looked confused for a moment...  “Oh!  You mean the Caric’chiits?”  The word he said sounded odd - like it wasn’t the language that Kai and Maeve usually spoke - Valdan.  It sounded like something else.   “They’re Reechi houses.   Houses for Reechi, I mean.”

 

      Erica laughed.  “We’re strangers here, remember?  What’s a Reechi?”

 

 

      “They’re tiny people that look like large squirrels, save that they walk, and talk, wear clothes and use tools like you and I - they’re just smaller.  Legend says they used to be normal squirrels, till the Goddess Adinor blessed them with intelligence for doing a great service to her.   It’s said to be lucky to have them live above your residence.”

 

      Maeve nodded.  “They’re good folks, mostly - but a bit hyperactive compared to most.  Their language is tricky to learn - lots of clicks and such, since it sort of sounds like squirrels talking - but many of them speak Valdan too.  They live about half as long as a human does - maybe a bit more.  Don’t let their size fool you.  Many are dead shots with a bow, and some can even fight with swords and knives - of a size for their build, mind you.”

 

      “I’d love to see one.”  Christine said.   This place is more like Narnia or Watership down the longer I’m here.  If Watership down had flesh-eating demons and evil wizards.  Narnia *might* have those - I can’t remember.  

 

      “They’re people, Christine - not pets.   I’m sure you’ll see one soon enough.   Just keep your eyes aimed up a bit.   You see those ropes bridges strung between the roofs?”  Kai asked.  “Those ropes are their highway - like a walkway or sidewalk in the air.  Many of the Reechi use those to travel to their homes and businesses above our homes and businesses.”

 

      “Cool!”  Erica said.  This is awesome.  She thought.  This place might be scary - but its also got some really neat things going for it.  Christine was right, it kinda is a magical fantasy land.  I wish I had a camera!

 

      “Does that mean something like ‘organic’ back home, Erica?  Because I don’t think you were commenting on the weather.”  Maeve looked a bit curious.  

 

      “Umm, yeah.  It means that’s really neat and interesting, or wow, that’s impressive.  It can also mean its cool or cold, but a lot of people use it the first two ways too.”

 

      “Okay - just so I know what you’re saying.”

 

      The first stop was a general store.  They all dismounted to stretch, and Kai went inside to buy supplies, since he knew what they needed.  Maeve called out  “I’m going to get these two some clothes - be back in about an hour, okay?”

 

      “Sure!”  He called back.  “If I’m not here, I’ll be at the Mushroom!”

 

      As Maeve led Christine and Eric across the street towards what looked to be a clothing shop, Eric asked the obvious.  “What the heck is the Mushroom?”

 

      “Local slang for a restaurant called the Musky Mushroom.  It’s a great place to get excellently cooked meat, and they have a pretty mean mushroom lager.  The owner said it’s a family recipe brewed from a secret formula given to them by an elf prince three generations ago.  It’s also a great place to pick up the local news.”

 

      Oh great!  Christine thought.  Talking animals and now Elrond and Galadrial.   What next?  The One Ring and Excalibur?   I suppose I could survive if ‘sexy Legolas’ came to visit... yum.  “Are the Elves friendly, like the Reechi?”

 

      “No.”  Maeve’s flat dark tone and one word answer spoke volumes.

 

      So no sexy Legolas then.  Well crap.   Christine thought.   Oh well. 

 

      Maeve gestured them into the store, and inside they found what seemed to be a mixture of a seamstresses shop, and a clothing shop.   One half of the store looked like fitting rooms and measuring tables, and the other half had some tables of folded garments.   Two local women were looking at various garments, while a seamstress was making alterations on one of the measuring tables.   And on one of the tables, stood one of the squirrel people - the Reechi - that Maeve had talked about.   She was tiny - perhaps thirteen inches long, with black fur going silver, and she wore a light blue dress with white trim that seemed tailored to allow her tail some ease of movement.  She had tiny earrings in her ears, and a silver bracelet on one arm.  

 

      “Hello Joorie!   Is Rosie here today?”   Maeve called to the small Reechi woman.

 

      “Maeve!  It’s good to see you.”  Joorie squeaked.  “Goddess knows where that child is.  I have my hands full just making sure she doesn’t run off into the woods on some harebrained adventure.   Are these two ladies friends of yours?”

 

      “Oh, yes...  This young lady is Erica, and her friend is Christine.  They’re in need of a few changes of clothes - mostly durable outdoorsy clothes, but small-clothes too.   Erica, Christine, this is one of my good friends, Joorie Clik-tik”

 

      Wow, thought Erica.  She sounds sort of like a cartoon character from back home.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”

 

      “The pleasure is mine, Serra!  Are you looking for tailored, or some of the items we have already made?”   Joorie motioned towards the tables of folder clothes.

 

      “Well for now, I think the ready made... We can alter them as needed if we have to.  Erica and Christine are new in town, and need to get the basics.  Their luggage got... lost... on the way here.”

 

      You know how it is, thought Erica.  You’re going on an inter-dimensional journey through a demon-infested Void, and you forget to pack an overnight bag.  Happens all the time...

 

      “Well, let me measure you both, and I’ll be able to direct you to a table that might fit better!”   Joorie said, grabbing a measuring tape.

 

      Joorie seemed filled with boundless energy.  She was always moving, measuring and just doing.   She motioned for Erica to hold a measuring tape - and in a flash had climbed up to Erica’s shoulder and put the string in her armpit, nodding for the measurement.   In a flash, the rest of Erica’s and Christine’s measurements were taken the same way.   

 

      Christine found the measuring both ticklish and surprising.  I guess it’s not every day you get your measurements taken by a talking squirrel in a dress.   This place is frigging weird - but they do seem nice, at least.   I can think of a lot of people back home who would LOVE this place.  Aside from the strangeness of meeting a Reechi, Christine thought that Joorie seemed just like any other woman, from the way she gossipped to talking about family problems.  It was kind of odd, but familiar at the same time.

 

 

      Erica on the other hand, seemed to be having a great time.  She seems to be adapting to this place better than I am, thought Christine.  What do I do if she wants to stay here - if she doesn’t want to try and go back to Earth?

 

      Christine fretted for some time while she and Erica tried on clothes - and after about an hour, they each had two extra sets of clothes - a wool coat for each of them, two linen shirts, a woolen skirt, thick leather pants, gloves, and a spare wool cloak.  Joorie also threw in a scarf for each of them, and a wool hat, for the cold.

 

      They left the store laden with their new clothes, and headed towards the general store where they left Kai.  Maeve obviously half expected him to be gone, and at the Musky Mushroom getting the news, but he was still there when the others arrived, although he was almost finished.   He had a large bundle of food - everything from dried beans to bacon, a bundle of things that looked like potatoes but weren’t, and a number of other things - from tools to nails, fittings, and some other items already boxed up and tied with string.

 

      “Hey!  You’re back!”  Kai said, as he finished paying the bill for the supplies, wincing a bit when the shopkeeper told him the tally.   “You drive a hard bargain, Geo.”  He said.

 

      “You’ll not find better goods collected in one shop, Kai.”  Geo said.  “You pay for the convenience, after all.”  Geo looked to be a fair skinned man with dark hair in his mid forties.   He wore old-fashioned spectacles, and looked like he smoked a pipe - his lower lip had that lightly discolored bump that pipe-smokers often get.

 

      “True - it would take me all day to get the goods I have here from the other shops.  You give good bargains, my friend – it’s just that my purse is a little light these days - Maeve has yet to pay me for our latest adventure.”

 

      “Don’t blame me, Kai.”  Maeve said, laughing.  “You’ll get what I promised, and likely more, once I get back from Arathel.”

 

      Kai nodded, knowing he would.   “We’d best be off Geo - it’s still a few miles to the Cabin.”

 

      Geo nodded, and waved Hello to Maeve, Erica and Christine.  “Just be careful.  The woods are dangerous this spring.  Ser Gharean says there have been elves and worse creatures in the woods this spring.”

 

      Kai nodded again.  “Thanks Geo.  I’ll stop by with a list of some other things I’ll need next time I’m in Wethom.”  With that, they left the store for the streets of Wethom. 

 

      “I take it your shopping went well?”   Kai asked.

 

      “Not too badly.”  Maeve said.   “Erica and Christine now have more than one outfit each to wear, which should be sufficient for the time being.   And they met Joorie.”  

 

      “Joorie was nice.”  Said Christine.  “But really high energy.  Is she always that hyper?”

 

      Maeve looked a little confused.  “Hyper?  Um... no.  She’s a perfectly normal Reechi.  Her daughter Rosie is hyper.   She gets into a lot of trouble, that child - doesn’t she Kai?”

 

 

      “Oh, yes.  She’s very friendly, though.  Which is a saving grace.  I heard her mother wants to get her married so she‘ll settle down a bit.”  Kai said.  “I’m not sure that would work.  She’s like you Maeve - not willing to settle in one spot.  I’ll bet a gold knight that she goes off wandering like her grandmother Teera did.”

 

      “No bet.” Said Maeve.  “Its practically a foregone conclusion.”

 

      Christine’s head swam at the thought of the energetic Joorie being ‘normal’ and her mysterious daughter being the hyper one.  I wonder if people see her move, or if she just leaves a squirrel shaped blur?          

 

      Erica piped up with a question.  “So are we going to your cabin now?”

 

      Kai nodded.   “Will you be staying the night, Maeve?  You could always leave for Arathel in the morning, with one of the horses.”

 

      “I think I will, Kai.  Thank you.”

 

      They gathered up their things, and headed west through Wethom, through the ‘Tree Gate’ - the nickname Kai said the locals gave the westernmost gate out of the town, since it opened onto a large wild forest.   “The north gate is the Ore Gate - where miners bring their ores to be smelted and sold, and the gate we entered Wethom from is called the Trade Gate, since most merchants come that way on the road, or up from the piers by riverboats.”

 

      The ride away from Wethom this time took them past several farms, and what looked to be a smelter for ores, as well as a waterwheel powered gristmill and a sawmill.   Wethom looked to be a fairly significant hub of activity and trade.   The weather was still clear and cold, and although it got somewhat cooler as they travelled, they arrived at Kai’s cabin without catching a chill.   The last farm had been about six miles back, and by the time they arrived it was nearing dark.

 

      The next half-hour or so was spent with Eric showing Christine how to curry and care for the horses, while Kai and Maeve went inside and got the wood-stove going and a kettle of water on by the hearth.   By the time dinner was ready, it was well into the evening.   Dinner that night was travel rations supplemented by hot tea, and some bacon Kai had picked up in town.  

     

      Kai’s cabin was spacious for one man living mostly alone.  It had three smallish bedrooms - each could sleep one comfortably, and two if they got cosy, by Erica and Christine’s standards.  There was a small kitchen, with an attached living room where the main fireplace was situated (the kitchen had the wood-stove).   Antlered heads on plaques adorned the walls here and there - most looked like deer, but neither Christine nor Erica could identify the others.   The windows had old-fashioned greenish glass - the kind with bubbles and imperfections in it, protected by shutters that closed against storms and high winds.  

 

      There was a fur rug in the living room, and some woven rugs elsewhere.   Tanning racks and archery supplies were all over the place - it was obvious Kai wasn’t a neat-freak like Christine liked to be - and it was equally obvious he hadn’t expected to be returning home with company in tow.   The place looked like it had been cleaned in a hurry - perhaps when Christine and Eric had been caring for the two horses.   There weren’t many homey touches like Anvi Marcello’s house had possessed - to Christine it was pretty apparent a bachelor lived here, and had been living by himself for quite some time.  

 

      “Well, welcome to my home,” said Kai.  “It’s not much, but it’s mine - and you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need - as long as you help out around here.”

           

      “Help out?”  Asked Erica.  “With what?” 

 

      “Chores, stuff that needs doing.   We’ll need firewood, for example.  The place will need an airing out and a cleaning if Christine’s upturned nose is any indication, too.”

 

      Christine blushed with embarrassment.  “Hey I wasn’t trying to insult your home.”

 

      “I realize that...  But I also realize that my standards might be different than yours, so I’m willing to tidy it up a bit while you two live here.”  Kai said.   “I’ll also be spending some time teaching you both how to do things around here, since you don’t seem to know a lot of what we would call the basics.  Hunting, cooking, skinning game.  Tanning leather and preparing hides - oh and learning our language too.  I can try and teach you to shoot a bow and fight with your fists or a dagger too, if you like.”

 

      “That sounds great!  I’d love to learn how to hunt.”  Erica said.   “Does it matter which room we pick?”

 

      “Well, the one off the kitchen is mine.”  Kai said.  “Why don’t you and Christine figure which one you each want to take, and Maeve can bunk with one of you tonight.  Then tomorrow, once we’ve all had something to eat, I can get started with the teaching - and Maeve can head to Arathel.”

 

      Christine looked a bit surprised.  “You mean, you and Maeve aren’t... umm... dating?”

 

      “What?”  Kai said, looking surprised.  “No.”

 

      “Not that we didn’t consider it, ages ago.”  Said Maeve.  “We just figured we were too different to make it work.  Nature boy here loves the woods too much, and I love the city too much.  After a week in this place I would go stir-crazy, and He’s the same way in cities.”

 

      “It’s pretty much as Maeve says - we work well as a team, but we learned long ago we weren’t compatible in that way when we weren’t working.”  Kai said laughing.  It was clearly old news to both of them, and more something to joke about than be taken seriously.   “Maeve can be a bit too tightly wound and suspicious for my tastes - and she considers me horribly gullible and not terribly security conscious.”

                                   

      “It’s amazing you’re both still friends.”  Christine said, laughing. 

 

      Maeve chuckled as well.   “I find we work well because we’re so different.  He balances out my paranoia, and I keep him from being taken advantage of, or from stepping into a proverbial nest of vipers in social situations.”

 

      “Yeah.  NORMAL nests of vipers, I can handle.”  Kai laughed.

 

      Dinner finished up soon after, and Christine collected the trenchers and took them to the kitchen.  A few minutes later, Christine and Erica sorted out which rooms belonged to whom, and began stowing their clothes and gear.    While Maeve led Erica through the meditation to control the Call of Hrask, Christine noticed there were no chamberpots in the bedrooms. 

 

      “Umm, Kai?’ she asked.

 

      “Oh... yes?  Is there anything wrong?”  Kai replied.  

     

      “Where do you go when you need to, umm... go?”   Christine was a bit embarrassed to have to ask - she was getting tired of being thought of as the stupid foreigner who didn’t know anything - but it was one of those questions that had to be asked.

 

      “Oh!  Follow me!”   Kai walked to the kitchen, and opened the shutters - and through the window, Christine could see an outhouse in the yard, about 20 paces away from the side door - which explained why neither she nor Erica had seen it earlier.

 

      “Fantastic - thanks.”  I never thought I’d be glad to have to use an outhouse, thought Christine.  But it’s a damn sight better than having to toss a chamber-pot out the window onto the street.  I nearly hurled when I had to do that in Ogden town.  No wonder the place stank so badly.

 

*          *          *

 

      Later that night, as they all were getting ready for bed, Maeve took Kai aside for a while to talk - they went outside for a bit of privacy, but Erica thought it was also to provide her and Christine with a bit of privacy as well.  

 

      “How are you doing, Christine.”  Erica asked.

 

      “I’m not really thrilled about being here for the next three months to a year, but otherwise I guess okay.  You?”

 

      “Okay.  I’m glad we have our own rooms...”  Erica said.  “No offence, but you snore.”

 

      “None taken.”  Christine said.   Christine could tell Erica was joking from Erica’s tone of voice.   “After all, you might want some privacy too.  You know, for intimate reasons.”

 

      Erica blushed furiously.  “Seriously?  You think that’s the first thing on my mind?”

 

      “Are you saying it Isn’t?”  Christine asked, still joking.   “If I was turned into a guy, I know I’d be curious.  Thank god I wasn’t, mind you - I like being me, and female.   How are you coping?”

 

      “I’m okay.  It’s a bit different - my center of balance is all screwed up, but it’s getting better - and learning how to go to the damn bathroom again was a pain in the ass too.  It’s just different, is all.   I guess I’ll get used to it.”

 

      “You know that’s not what I meant.”  Christine said, with a look of mild admonishment.   “How are you coping mentally?   Most people would be freaking the hell out about dying - and then waking up in another body, never mind one the wrong gender.   It’s kind of worrying me.”

 

      Erica was quiet and thoughtful for a moment.  “I don’t know what to say, Christine.  I... I died.  I died, and I woke up in a new body.   It’s a miracle - a freaking miracle!   How do you react to that?   I don’t have any idea how to react to it.  I mean, Goddesses are freaking real - she talked to me!   And don’t try to tell me I imagined it - cause why would I imagine a Mercian goddess I knew nothing about, instead of say, the Virgin Mary or some saint from Earth?    I can’t explain it.”

 

 

      Christine watched Erica, and realized she was right - a miracle had happened.  Inexplicably, it had happened.  It was a miracle.   Christine wondered for a moment how she felt about that.   A miracle.  Why now?  Why not back home?   Is there something wrong with our God, or are we just not worthy enough?   Is it even our fault we never see miracles?   Are they there all the time, and it just never gets on the news - or are the people claiming ‘miracles’ just religious crackpots?  There was no easy answer, and no way to deal with the reality of it all.

 

      “I can’t explain it either, Erica.”  Christine said, the new name of her best friends little brother still rolling unfamiliarly off her tongue.  “Does this mean Gods are real?  I guess so - here at least.  Does it mean God is real back home?  I don’t know.   It bothers me.   Why doesn’t He show his power - there are so many people in the world who need Him.   Why does he let bad things happen?    Why are gods real here - in ways people can see - but back home we have to take it on faith alone?   Its pretty messed up.  I don’t know how to take it - so I guess you’re pretty confused about it too, huh?”

 

      “Yeah - that’s an understatement.”  Erica sighed.  “When mom died... when she killed herself, she left dad and I a note.  She said she was doing it to protect me from the demons - that the demons wanted me.  She thought if she gave them herself, they would leave me alone.   I think that’s why dad hates me - he blames me for mom.   Demons are real, and Gods are real - but if God back home is real, why couldn’t he save mom?   Why couldn’t we be protected?   Why did he leave us alone - why did he let her die?”   Erica tried to keep her composure, but tears came to her eyes, and soon she was sobbing.

 

      Christine didn’t know what to say, so she moved over to Erica’s bed, and just put her arm around the young woman, and let her cry till she was done.   Erica cried for a long while, and eventually the tears dried up.  It was plain to see she was exhausted.   Christine was worried for her, but glad also Erica had cried - had reacted, in some way - to what had happened in the last few days.  Bottling it up would do no one any good.

 

      “Well, if you need any help with anything, let me know.  I’m here if you just want to talk, too you know.”  Christine said.   Seriously, Erica - if you want to talk, tell me.  I’m right here!  

 

      “Okay... and thanks.”  Erica said, wiping the last few tears from her eyes.   “I’m sorry I cried so much... I don’t know why I did that.  I usually don’t cry like that.”

 

      “Get used to it.”  Christine joked.  “Ain’t hormones wonderful?   Seriously though, Erica, I’m here for you.  If there’s anything I can do just tell me, okay?”

 

      Soon after, Maeve and Kai returned, and Eric and Christine’s conversation had to be put on hold until another time, but that night Erica spent a lot of time thinking, before sleep overtook her.

     

*          *          *

 

      The next morning, Kai and Maeve were up first, and the smells of breakfast permeated the cabin.   Erica and Christine woke to their stomachs growling, and mouths watering.    After getting dressed and coming out to help, a breakfast of porridge, bacon, eggs, and toasted bread with jam was served, to everyone’s enjoyment.   Everyone helped clean up, except Maeve, who was busy packing to head south.

 

      “Do you think Maeve will be long?”  Christine asked.

 

      “I don’t know.  It depends on the weather, for the travel - but it depends on how long the Council of Hierarchs feels they need to question her, once they’ve heard her story.  She seemed to think it would take maybe one week there and back, and one week with the Council, so three weeks total.  That’s not so long, is it?”

 

      “No, not really.”  Christine said.  “I just worry about what’s going on back at home, and how long it’s going to take for me to get back... and I know it’s possible I might never get back, but I don’t think I’m ready to face that possibility yet.  I can’t, yet.”

 

      Kai didn’t say anything in response to Christine’s statement - what was there to say?   Either she could adapt or she couldn’t.  Only time would tell.

 

      Maeve came out of Erica’s room with her travelling gear.  “Well, I’m off.”  She said.  “I should be back in about three weeks or so, give or take a few days.  You think you’ll be able to manage till I get back?”  Maeve asked.

 

      Kai laughed.  “Should be no problems on my end.  Safe travels, Maeve.”

 

      Erica piped in too.  “Good luck, Maeve.  I hope everything goes well with the council.” Christine wished her luck and safe travels as well.

 

      “Thanks Kai, Erica.  You know, there’s a good chance they’ll want to meet you for a conversation or two - and probably with Christine as well.   Either way, that’s for another day.  I’ll see you soon.”   Maeve headed out, and picked Sir Tarren’s horse.  Soon she was heading east - it was easier to head back to Wethom, then head south to Arathel via the road, than to cut cross-country.   And since Maeve was a city girl, not a woodsman, it was less likely to get her lost as well.   The weather was still cool, but it was more than a bit cloudy as well.   I hope it doesn’t rain, she thought.

 

      A few minutes later, Kai gathered Christine and Erica in the living room, and asked “Which of you can tell me the Valdan word for apple?  We should probably get those lessons going again.”  Again, Christine struggled with the language lesson - but Erica was doing well.  It was frustrating, but Erica was obviously trying to help her too.   The language lesson went on for the rest of the morning.

 

*          *          *

 

      The Trip to Arathel had been, for the most part, relatively swift and easy.  The weather had remained fair - cool, without being cold, and with minimal rain or snow.   Maeve had been left alone with her thoughts for the journey, and for the last several days now, something had been bothering her.  It niggled at the back of her mind, annoying her with its unidentifiable annoyance - something she couldn’t put her finger on.   Maeve had sent word to the council of her imminent arrival by carrier pigeon when she left Wethom - so they should be expecting her.

 

      Arathel looked much as she remembered it - a grand stone city on the banks of the might Vestal river.  It was about fifteen times the size of Wethom - a grand city, and one she liked to call home.   Normally she would go to her apartment first, which she kept in the merchants quarter of the city - but tonight she felt her message needed to get to the council first.

 

 

      As she reached the outskirts of the city, dusk fell, and so Maeve found herself riding through the cobbled streets in the dark, the streets lit by enchanted lanterns to provide light and guidance for travellers.   The great Cathedral of Three Moons grew larger as she approached - it was the greatest of the churches in the city - the church the King and Queen of Orvan attended, and the church which contained the Council of Hierarchs.   I’m glad Erica and Christine didn’t keep asking so many questions about our government.  Seriously, it was like having children asking ‘why is the sky blue?’ all the time.  It’s kind of charming in its own way, I guess, but I don’t think I’ll ever be good mommy material.   I can’t blame them, though.  If I was stuck in their world, I’d be asking about anything and everything - like why the hell do they use words that don’t mean what they should?   Like cool, or organic, or All-natural, or whatever they say?   Oh well.

 

      Maeve approached the steps of the Cathedral of Three Moons, and tied her horse at a post beneath its great steps.  As she climbed the steps towards the top, she noticed the streets seemed unusually empty for this time of night.  Where is everyone?   Normally there are people about this time of night.   Worried, she loosened her dagger in her sheath, and raised her Sight - just in case.   It’s not paranoia if people are really out to get you, she thought.

 

      As the mage-sight fell over her, she realized she wasn’t alone - there was a single man behind one of the great pillars, approaching her rapidly.   Maeve took a closer look - and the world slowed down.   The man approaching was cloaked in a dark grey cloak, with black leather pants and shirt.  At his waist was an ornate long sword, and a silver chased needle-pistol she had seen before, years ago.  No!  It can’t be!  I remember that gun!   She looked higher - and felt ill as her gaze fell upon the face of one of the Fallen - human sorcerers who allowed the Call of Hrask to take them over.    

 

      Maeve knew that gun - she had seen it once before, when the same gun tried to kill her, and ended with her killing her own brother to save her life. Whether this fallen was one and the same, she couldn’t tell... but by the gods, she intended to get answers!   How did one of the Fallen get within Arathel’s walls?  HOW?   And then she wasn’t thinking anymore, as she raised her knife and threw.

 

      The Fallens’ gun raised as it drew from its holster; the fallen was fast - he’d obviously done this before - but Maeve had the edge this time...  She had seen him coming, and wasn’t paralysed by fear or shock.  What she was, was full of rage - at herself, at what she had done to her brother Nile.  She took that rage and regret, and put it all into that one throw, as if that one throw could make it all better - take back the years of regret and guilt and sadness.   All that focus she put it, and threw.

 

      The knife whipped end over end, and planted itself in the creature’s chest - right through his ribcage into his chest.  The Fallen screamed, and fell prone, his pistol tumbling down the steps near Maeve’s feet.  Blood was pumping from the wound, and the fallen was gasping for breath as bloody foam sucked and bubbled around the wound.   Maeve calmly picked up the needler, and walked up the steps.  

 

      “You killed my brother with this gun, you piece of filth.”  Maeve said.  “You’re going to tell me who sent you, and then I’m going to kill you slowly.”

 

      The fallen laughed in short gasps, trying to get air.  “Actually, human, you did a better job of killing your brother than I did.  What’s the matter?  Run out of siblings to use as human shields?”  The fallen’s words were sibilant, and serpent like.  When it spoke, she saw its face - it looked wholly serpentine, complete with a forked tongue.

 

      Maeve’s face clouded in rage.  This piece of shit was mocking her? Mocking her brother’s death?  She raised the pistol to end the creature’s wretched existence, but at the last second, a small part of her realized that’s what it wanted her to do.  What it didn’t want her to do was know what it knew...  

     

            Maeve grinned evilly.  I’ll learn everything you know, you self-righteous piece of filth, then I’ll filet you on these steps, piece by piece.  She spoke a Word, and in moments was inside the creatures mind.  It had tried to stop her - but the words of Mind and Sight were Maeve’s strongest - and in the rage she was in, only a Master of the disciplines could have stopped her mental assault.   The fallen screamed in agony - and Maeve didn’t even pause as the creature writhed in a pool of its own blood.

 

      SHOW ME!  Her mental command screamed.  Show me why you were here!   

 

      She fell into his memories as the thoughts spilled forth.   The fallen used to be a human called Lucas - he came from a small village called Endbrook.  He fell to the call eight years ago - and he had been tasked to kill Maeve for her past transgressions against the Hserinyar.   More memories came - these more recent.   He had spent several years in Hserin, then come back to Valris via ship.   He had had help - someone here had facilitated his travel... 

 

      WHO?  Who was it?  Maeve’s mental command could not be denied. At first, an image of Bishop Vargas flickered through his mind - but she realized he was not the person the creature was thinking about - Vargas had a pawn.  She saw images of the dreamers - this creature had been to the House of Broken Dreams!  He’s trying to distract me!  WHO WAS IT?!  She commanded.  TELL ME!  

 

      The fallen writhed in pain from the mental trauma being inflicted upon him, all in utter silence.  Finally, it gave in, and Maeve fell into the memories again.   She was in the Cathedral of Three Moons, in one of the antechambers of the heads of the faith in the city.  It was dark in the room - the Fallen wasn’t alone...   The fallen once known as Lucas approached a man in shadows, his back turned to him.  

 

      “Is it done?”  The man in shadows asked.

 

      “Not yet.  Maeve Varda is riding from Wethom to Arathel – she’ll be here in less than two days.”

 

      “The fact that she still lives puts us all at risk, Lucas.”

 

      “I know.  I plan to end her when she arrives, before she speaks to the Council.   That way, whatever she learned at the House of Broken Dreams will die with her.”

 

      “Good.  What of her henchman - the huntsman?  Her toy?”  The man in shadows turned and part of his body came into the light.   White ecclesiastical robes trimmed in gold and silver threads, adorned with starbursts of gold and silver, and a pale hand with a gold and ruby ring.  “You have taken steps to deal with him, and any with him?”

 

      “I have, your grace.”  The fallen assassin, Lucas said.  “Ser Rodin will soon cease to be a problem.”  The fallen chuckled.

 

      “Good. We can’t have her and her friends ruining all we’ve worked for, after all these years.  Make sure it’s done - we need to secure the location of Tiamat, before we can move to the next stage.  The gods of Man will fall... This world is Hrask’s.”

 

      “This world is Hrask’s.” The fallen named Lucas said, kissing the clerics ring. 

 

      The vision faded - and Maeve was mute in shock.  The niggling little thing that had been bothering her all this last week...  How was it possible for Vargas Elm to rise so high in the ranks of the church - without a patron aiding him.  It all made sense now...  He had a patron.  There are only thirteen rings like that one, in all of Valris.  She thought.  And they all belong to the members of the Council of Hierarchs.  Oh Goddess!  What do I do?  One of them is a traitor - and they’re going after Kai!

     

     

      Maeve was chilled with fear for her friends, not to mention a fear for herself as well.   But it was only a second or two before that fear was filled with something stronger... anger.  The architects of whatever plan this was, had been working on it for years - long enough to try to assassinate her years ago - long enough to have Vargas Elm rise through the ranks to take a leadership post where he could do the most good for their plot.   These people are responsible for the death of her brother - for the attempts on her life, and were endangering her friend Kai - and others.  Maeve was filled with something she could only refer to as righteous fury.  They will pay.  Maeve vowed.  No one kills my family, or harms my friends.  I’ll tear the whole plot down around their ears if I have to - I’ll find who’s responsible, and bring them to justice.  And then we’ll see who has the last laugh... You just pissed off the WRONG person.

 

      Maeve leaned over and grabbed the knife, and began to work on the Fallen that was once named Lucas.  It was over too soon, but Maeve gained a small measure of satisfaction from it.  She didn’t care if it was messy, or gruesome.  She was sending a message, and she hoped whoever got it, got it loud and clear.  Nobody messes with my family or friends you festering piece of lizard shit.  As she wiped the knife clean on the dead things cloak, a nearby voice called out “Dear Gods!  Guards, guards!”  

 

      Maeve turned, and saw two clerics - a man and a woman, both in their fifties, both wearing the robes of members of the Council of Hierarchs - the starbursts of gold and silver were evidence of that.

 

      “Maeve Varda!  Thank the gods you’re here!”  One of them called - it was the woman, Meredith Dillian.   “We got your message, that you were coming - the council is waiting.  Oh my... is... is that a Fallen?  Here?   What’s going on?”

 

      Meanwhile the other Hierarch, Donal Blaine climbed down the steps to the body of the fallen - Maeve had left him a gruesome mess.  “Uggh... He’s dead...  What was he doing here, Maeve?   Did you find anything from him before he died?”

 

      Maeve looked about desperately.   I can’t BE here right now, dammit.   Assassins are coming for Kai and if I don’t get out of here right now, I’ll be too late.  I may already be too late... FUCK!   “No, your grace.  I learned nothing - except He’s the same Fallen that killed my brother - I recognise his gun, and his skin markings.  He apparently came back to try to kill me again - and failed.”

 

      The two Hierarchs sighed with relief.   “Well, I’m glad you’re all right - come.”  Said Donal Blaine.  “The rest of the council needs to hear what you have to say about the events in Ogden.  You were most urgent - the entire council is here, as you asked.   We’ve convened an emergency session to hear your report.”

 

      Maeve looked towards the gates of Arathel, then back to the Cathedral.  If I try to leave now, they’ll believe the worst.  That I’m a traitor.   I’ll be lucky to reach the city gates.   If I go with them, it will be hours - possibly days - before I’m allowed to leave the city.   Oh Gods, I can’t lose another friend - I can’t.  Kai...   And if I try to protect you, the traitor on the council will know I know too much.   He’ll have me eliminated.  No one will be left to stop him...  I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.   Maeve looked conflicted for a moment - but her skill at hiding her emotions allowed it to only be for a moment.  Maeve calmed herself, and walked up the steps towards the Hierarchs.   “Of course, your graces - we can’t keep the rest of the council waiting, can we.  I have important news.”  The summoned guards muttered oaths, and dragged the body of the fallen away, while Maeve and the two Hierarchs entered the Grand Cathedral.

 

*          *          *

 

 

      Meanwhile, at the House of Broken Dreams - or rather, what was left of it - two things that had once been men probed the burnt rubble, looking for something.   The two once-men moved with sinuous grace, and heavy cloaks with hoods concealed their features, and gloves, their hands.   Nothing, however could conceal their voices. The sibilance of their speech marked them as the Fallen. 

 

      “Over here... I have something.”

 

      The two gathered, and pulled a burnt timber off what seemed to be a scorched human male, injured - but still breathing.  He still wore a few pieces of scorched jewellery - including an ornate crystal necklace, covered in soot and smoke and ash.

 

      “The master survived, as did his seeing stone... Hrask is still with us!”  The first fallen said.

     

      “Excellent - the Hierarch will be pleased.  We need to take him with us - we need to know what happened here in the past few weeks.  Perhaps some clue as to what went wrong here will reveal itself.  It is a great loss, the death of all these Dreamers.” 

 

      “If they were able to find the Great Mother of All before this place was destroyed, then no cost would be too high.  We must return... now.  Quick, help me lift him - he needs aid, and quickly.”

 

      “Agreed.  The Great Work must continue, till the last breath is gone.”   The first fallen dropped his digging tool, and exchanged it for a gnarled staff carved with many runes.  The other fallen stepped in close, carrying the unconscious body of Vargas Elm - and there was a flash of magic power.  The two Fallen disappeared - leaving nothing save rapidly fading footprints under the lightly falling snow.   The ashes of the crumbling, burnt sanitarium were left alone in the night.

 

*          *          *

 

      Sir Andred tossed fitfully in his bed, unable to sleep.  He tossed, and turned - and finally sat up, running his fingers through his soaking wet hair like a rude comb, sighing.  Looks like I’m not getting to sleep anytime soon.  He thought.  It’s all that young man’s fault - Eric.   Ever since he threw himself in front of that archer friend of his - the one working with Maeve Varda - and been reborn in the body of the Dreamer girl, I haven’t been able to sleep.   The Goddess spoke with him!  Why?   Why did she make him the first dreamer to wake?   Are we really approaching the end times?  If Tiamat has been found, then perhaps we are...

 

      “Pfagh!”  He said, climbing out of bed.  “You’re being a scared little boy.  If they are here, then they are here.  If they are not, there’s nothing to worry about.”  Sir Andred shook his head, bemused by his worries.  Moonlight poured into the room from an open window, lighting it enough to see, though not too clearly.   Andred stood and donned a warm robe, and walked over to a nightstand that held his goblet and a flask of wine, and poured himself a glass.   Perhaps I should pray for guidance, if the event troubles me so? 

 

      What struck him the most was his reaction to the boy before and after his miraculous recovery.  Before, his impression of the lad was that he seemed a loyal servant of Maeve and her friend - a lad with a brave and good heart.  His diving in front of the magical blast meant to kill the archer friend of Maeve’s - Kai was his name - was selfless and noble.   Then, when the goddess brought him back in the body of the frail Dreamer girl, Andred’s first reaction was to want to protect her - shield her frail body from whatever may come.   It’s strange, he thought.  How one moment I consider his sacrifice brave, and in the other feel I should shield her and protect her from harm.  She just seemed so small and frail!

     

            Knowing he would get no sleep this evening, Andred drained his wine cup, and put the cup back on the nightstand.  He would pray - probably until morning - for guidance.  Maybe the Twins will send me wisdom, so that I can put these past events behind me?  

 

      As he stalked through the halls of his home, Andred realized he must have made some noise - he could hear his manservant Fionn stirring - probably to see if his lord had any requirements.  Damn.  It seems no one will be getting any sleep until I put this behind me.  Fionn is a loyal man - he deserves better than putting up with my moods and my sleeplessness.

 

      Sir Andred walked through the darkened halls of his home, more by memory than by good lighting, his bare feet padding on the thick carpets in the hallway outside his bedroom.  Coming to his small private chapel, he quickly bowed his head in respect, and entered to begin praying.   He was no stranger to prayer, Sir Andred - he was a Vigilant of the Third Circle, a Hand of Hathor - a holy warrior blessed by the Twins to strike down evil and defend the weak.  It was often said that Feana’s was the velvet glove, and Hathor’s was the iron fist within the glove - but both the Twins hated evil and injustice, and both drove their followers to root out evil in all its forms.  Sir Andred had spent many nights in vigil, praying for guidance.  This night would be like many others.    He knelt and lit some candles, and began to pray.

 

      “Oh Great Twins, Feana and Hathor, who are both our buckler and blade, blessed children of Isundal and Askeline, hear my prayer!    Bless me with your wisdom, and your guidance, for I am sorely troubled by recent events.  A Dreamer has woken - but there is more than that - a Bishop of the faith was corrupted, and somehow no one realized it.  There is something deeply wrong, and I do not know what path I must take.”    Sir Andred continued to kneel, head bowed, while muttering prayers for some time.   He could feel he was close - that he was on the cusp of understanding something important - when he realized he was not alone.

 

      A cool silver light was spilling across the room, from behind him and to his left.  Slowly he turned - and beheld a warrior made of light - clad in steel armor chased with gold, whose helmet radiated the light of the stars from its visor.   The vision carried a sword made of golden glass, and a shield of the same, and great glowing wings of silver light grew from the warriors back - and Andred knew, deep in his core, that he was in the presence of an angel.   He threw himself on the floor, and prostrated himself.

 

      Be not afraid, Sir Andred.  You have been blessed by Feana and Hathor - and they would reward you for your faithful service.   I have been sent by the Twins to relate a message to you - and a command.   The angel’s words were soft - it did not speak loudly - but its words carried a strength - a depth to them that would not be denied.  They sounded like music - like the peals of trumpets and war-horns, and singing.

 

      “My lord!   Ask of me, and I will see it done!”   Andred was terrified - and exalted at the same time.  My Gods want me to do something!  They see me, and trust me!  I will not fail them, even should I die trying!  

 

      There is a sickness in the Council of Hierarchs, Sir Andred.  One of their number is the pawn of Vargas - and belongs to the ranks of our Enemy.   You will travel to Arathel, and find which of the Hierarchs is the viper in their midst - and slay him.   Maeve Varda is a trusted servant of our Mother, and may know who the serpent is - seek her out, and strike him down before he can do further damage to the Faith - and before he can use the Dreamer Erica to find Tiamat.  The angel paused, and laid his hand upon Sir Andred’s shoulder; the touch of the angel filled him with strength, and purpose.  

 

      Be not worried, Sir Andred, of the times to come.  Our Father and Mother do not give more troubles to their children than they can bear.  You will weather this storm.  Protect the Dreamer - for she and her friends are watched closely by those on High, and may prove instrumental in saving all of Mercia from destruction and death. 

 

      “I will!”  Sir Andred said, his face still bowed.  “Even unto death!”   Sir Andred felt imbued with might - with the knowledge that his Gods stood behind him.  That they had entrusted to him - and to him alone - this vital task.  It was awesome - and humbling at the same time.   He knew then he would do anything in his power to not fail at this task, even if as he said, it meant his death.  

 

      So be it.    

 

      With that, the angel was gone.   Sir Andred could feel his absence - like an emptiness he did not know he felt until the angel’s presence was not there to fill it.   He raised his head and looked about - but there was no sign of the angel ever being there - save the candles, that had been burned down to nubs.   How long have I been talking with the angel?   It must have been hours, at least!

 

      “My Lord?  Is everything all right?”  

 

      The voice was jarring to Sir Andred’s ears - after hearing the music of the angel’s voice it was as if mere mortal sounds were inadequate ways to communicate.   He looked, and saw his manservant Fionn, waiting to see if he had any needs.   Fionn was clearly worried - it was not uncommon for his master to pray at any hour of the night - but clearly, something about Sir Andred seemed to bother him.

 

      “I am well, Fionn - better than well!  I have been visited by an angel, who has dire news.  Fetch me paper, ink and pen - I must write down what I have heard, lest I forget.  And send word to Sister Celia at the church immediately - she will want to hear what I have to say before I leave.”

 

      “Leave my lord?  Where are you going?”   Fionn was obviously confused - and a bit worried.

 

      “Arathel, Fionn.  I’m going to Arathel - and quickly.  Ready my weapons and armor, and wake the stablehands - tell them to ready my horse.   I’m leaving at first light - the Twins have called me, and I must answer.  I leave at dawn.”