Thirgynn was fuming, in a very dwarven fashion that meant a lot of stomping back and forth, grumbling to yourself and occasionally kicking a harmless rock or pine-cone out of the way.

It was simply outrageous! First, Mr Judeau had refused to let the miracle-worker examine the rune that had inexplicably showed up in his hand, then he had run off all by himself (leaving Thirgynn feeling a little bit guilty, which only furthered the dwarf�s anger), and then the Healer had clammed up and refused to explain anything about his strange outburst, as long as Mr Judeau was not present. The elderly human had sat down by a tree, gathered his dogs to him and somehow managed to fall asleep there.

�What�s taking them so long?� Thirgynn growled and kicked another pebble into the forest.

Taskkarr paused for a moment in strapping the scaly demonhide around his massive chest and shrugged. �He�s probably being difficult. Humans get like that when they�re upset.�

Thirgynn stopped pacing and watched Taskkarr place the metal chestplate on top of the demonhide.

�Taskkarr, why are you putting your armour on? Are you expecting trouble of some sort?�

The demon hunter sent the other dwarf a withering glare.

�Always.�

Thirgynn bowed apologetically and quietly mused; well, that would be one thing you have in common with the elf, then�

The miracle-worker glanced over at the tall Crusader and grinned inwardly. Not that I would ever point that out, of course

As Thirgynn watched, a sudden change came over Steelwing. He had been sitting still before, stoically gazing off into the night, but now he suddenly froze completely � for a few seconds he didn�t even breathe. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was on his feet and had slammed the helmet down over his head.

Taskkarr was completely taken by surprise and flew to his feet as well, yelling:

�What? What? What�s wrong? What can you hear?�

�Samina.� Steelwing firmly called back. �She is in trouble.�

�What kind of trouble?!� Taskkarr shouted, but the elf had already mounted his slender steed with one swift jump, and as he turned it around he only had time to yell:

�She is calling for Thirgynn!� �Before he was off like a silver wind through the trees.

�Magical trouble, then!� Thirgynn surmised and ran over to the murvelbeasts.

�Right. Then I�m taking the hammer,� Taskkarr growled with an audible grin, before he let out a sharp whistle that called the black-brown beast to his side.

�Hey, hey! What�s going on?� a drowsy, confused Shammael called from over by his tree, but the dwarves had already pulled themselves up onto the backs of their murvels and were racing off in the direction the elf had taken, fists securely tangled in the thick, shaggy fur.

There was no time for saddles, and Thirgynn had to fight very hard to keep nausea down as the grey murvel jumped over fallen trees and big rocks.

They did not have time for being sick, either.

But there would be hell to pay, rest assured, if this turned out to be a false alarm. Thirgynn would personally see to that.

~
Samina tripped. It had seemed like a good idea at first, trying to run from the ghosts while half-carrying the incoherent Judeau. It might have worked, too, if she had only been able to see where she was going properly; in the grip of the Void it was impossible to distinguish those small ditches from the rest of the hazy landscape.

She fought desperately to straighten herself up, but realised that biting the grass was inevitable at this point and tried to twist herself so that Judeau would be spared the worst of the impact. To her surprise, however, she felt his free arm wrap around her stomach and steady her. She looked up into his face, but saw that though he was steadier now, he was still not clear of his confusion.

�Keep struggling�� he mumbled as their eyes met, �until the very, very end��

He didn�t seem like he was aware of what he was saying � or whom he was saying it to, but she gazed back and whispered quietly:

�That�s the spirit.�

She glanced over his shoulder. They had managed to put some distance between themselves and the ghosts, but the hungry apparitions were closing in quickly now, apparently � and impossibly � having gotten over their fear of the Void.

Samina reviewed their chances. They couldn�t keep running blindly like this, another scare like this one and she might lose control out of sheer surprise. She felt another drop of sweat roll down between her eyes and tried to shake it away. Her morningstar was useless against the ghosts, and so were her sword and her armour. Judeau would have been useless too, even if he hadn�t been unarmed and confused. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. The closer the ghosts came, the stronger the pull of the Void got as it fed off of their paralysing spell.

�The Void�

It all boils down to that, doesn�t it? she thought bitterly. No, It�s too risky. It�s a last resort.

�Move!� She forcefully pulled Judeau along with her and kept walking as fast as she dared. �Thirgynn!! Steelwing!!� Damn it all, where are they?

She glanced behind them again, and realised with a terrible, icy chill that they weren�t moving fast enough. The ghosts were gathering speed and closing in on them.

I don�t want to! She felt tears begin to burn behind her eyelids. Whether of exhaustion, anger or fear, she couldn�t tell. But it didn�t really matter. Oh gods, I don�t want to!

�Judeau! Can you stand on your own?�

�M� my legs work�� He shook his head violently and stared at her with half-seeing eyes. �Y-yes� I can.�

She unhooked his arm from around her neck and gave him a hard shove in the back. �Then go!�

I don�t want to do this! The tears spilled over, burning like liquid fire as they trailed down her cheeks and blended with the sweat on her face, but her voice did not betray her. �Go! Get as far away from me as you can!�

He almost fell to the ground when she pushed him, but managed to right himself and turned back towards her, looking even more confused.

�Wh� what�?�

�Run! RUN! Save yourself!� Through the tears � Damnit! She was crying like a helpless little girl, and she just couldn�t stop! � She could see him take a few, staggering steps backwards, but then he stopped and shook his head again, bringing a hand up to his forehead with a low groan.

�No� save you��

�Don�t worry about me! I�ll be fine, GO!� And in the far back of her mind, in a small, distant centre of calm, a tiny little voice acidly added: That depends on your definition of �fine�, of course�

She saw him hesitantly turn around and begin to stagger away, and she turned back to face the oncoming, spectrally glowing wave of ghosts. She saw their focus change and they seemed to suddenly forget all about her � they were reaching beyond her, towards Judeau.

Go figure� the calm little voice whispered, it�s got to have something to do with that rune.

Samina clenched her fists and placed herself in the ghosts� path. The Void was straining at the bit within her, still growing stronger � perhaps aided by her own turbulent emotions. She set her jaw and dug her feet into the ground. The second one of those spectres touched her, it would be pulled in, and the Void� the Void would� I don�t want to do this! �She would fight the hellhole with every fibre of her being. It won�t be enough� and Judeau won�t get far enough� A few more tears spilled down her cheeks, but she kept her eyes open. Maybe it was hopeless, but a last, desperate chance was still better than no chance at all.

The ghosts closed the last bit of distance between them.

And then two things happened in quick succession. The first one was that the glow of the ghosts was suddenly blocked from her vision by the silhouette of a man on horseback, wielding what appeared to be a sword that was shining with a pure, white light. To Samina�s hazy eyes he appeared to have taken shape out of the shadows of the night, with all the stars of heaven forming his blade. But she barely had time to be surprised at the horseman�s appearance before the second thing happened; She felt Judeau�s arms wrap around her as the blond scout threw himself in front of her � to protect her.

In that moment of complete confusion, she heard him whisper � so quietly that she really shouldn�t have been able to pick it out:

�You have to survive� because I love you.�

And then the horseman swung his blade down. It passed through a glowing ghost and the apparition shattered in a brilliant flash, which lit up the face of the horseman. Samina distantly wondered since when angels had glowing green eyes and faces of shining steel � but then she remembered; the visor of Steelwing�s helmet had been crafted in an image of his own face� It was him.

They were saved.

That thought echoed through her mind, but she couldn�t remember what it was supposed to mean� And Judeau had said� and he was protecting her� and Steelwing kept shattering ghosts left and right� saved� Judeau�

A deep bellow cut through her confusion, and then the night exploded into light. She ducked instinctively and pulled Judeau down along with her, turning to face the direction the bellow had come from.

Mounted on the snarling murvelbeast, hands held out, fingers spread and with thin bolts of crackling, twisting lightning arching out from each fingertip, Thirgynn had never been a more welcome sight. Samina didn�t have to look back to know that wherever one of those whipping ribbons of lightning connected with a ghost, the spectre�s magical bonds to the physical world would be smashed by the power of Thirgynn�s spell.

And finally, Samina fully realised that they were saved. Sagging with relief she reached in, strained her mind to its very limits and closed the Void � and the exhaustion that she had been ignoring while in its grip came crashing into her, along with the pain in her wrist� and everywhere else. Every muscle in her body ached and tingled as she once again had to acknowledge their existence and need for rest. The collected weight of all the weariness and pain brought her to her hands and knees, and she began to tremble � but it was glorious. The pain meant that she was alive, that she was safe and that she was back to herself.

She heard Taskkarr bellow again, and this time she heard what he was shouting:

�Save some for me! Save some for me!�

She might have smiled if she hadn�t been so incredibly tired.

An uncertain hand landed gently on her back, and she heard Judeau�s confused voice in her ear:

�Ca� Caska?�

She looked up into his gentle and confused brown eyes, and felt an inexplicable sting of bitterness.

He wasn�t talking to me. Of course he wasn�t, why would he? �Stupid, stupid girl.

�No,� she breathed hoarsely, glaring up at him, �Samina. My name is Samina.�

He blinked at her, squinted and shook his head roughly.

�Sa� Samina� what� what happened?�

She felt that she was too angry at him right now � for too many reasons � to speak anything but her mind, so she decided to just concentrate on breathing for a while.

~
While they were riding back to the camp, Judeau felt his head become more and more clear. He now knew that he hadn�t been back at the massacre of the Band of the Hawk, and could remember everything that had happened between then and tonight pretty clearly.

What had happened after his body had been filled by a deathly cold, and his head by a mad, babbling voice, however, was a completely different story.

His impressions from that point were hopelessly jumbled. He had had a strong feeling of hanging from Caska�s shoulder again, her arm around his waist and pain racking his body with every step, but he knew that it couldn�t have been so.

He was reasonably sure that they had been followed by something horrible, but � when he thought back � it hadn�t �felt� like demons�

He did know that the brand in his palm had hurt the whole time, though. That had been the only constant impression, and probably one of the main reasons why he had so vividly thought himself back at the massacre.

He looked down at his hand and frowned at the brand. It had stopped hurting now, but how had it gotten back there in the first place?

Samina stirred behind him, and he somehow got the impression that she was putting an effort into avoiding direct contact with him. She had been reluctant enough to get up on the horse �no, horsekin� behind him, but Steelwing had insisted rather sternly, and she had looked just about ready to drop dead out of exhaustion. Was she angry with him for some reason?

�That�s right, it had been her, hadn�t it? She had been the one supporting him, dragging him along, not Caska�

He rubbed his face again. It was all so confused.

�All right,� the deep, melodious voice of Thirgynn interrupted the silence all around, �Nobody�s asking, so I�ll just have to say it anyway: I know what that rune is, now.�

Judeau turned to the bald dwarf so quickly that he almost lost his balance, and for a brief moment he felt Samina�s hand against his side, steadying him � but she quickly snatched it away again.

�Wha- you do?�

The miracle-worker nodded. �I do. It is a beacon spell, a powerful and specialised one, too. I saw it when I was preparing my own spell.�

Taskkarr glanced over at the other dwarf. �Beacon spell?�

�Yup. It attracts the undead, and lures them into a frenzy of hunger� and by the feel of it while it was activated like that, I am reasonably sure that it also applies to demons.�

Taskkarr�s non-existent eyebrows rose heavenwards. �Oh, really�?�

Judeau stared at the brand again, horrified.

�My god� that�s what it does?�

�I believe so, yes,� Thirgynn answered in the tone of a scholar who�d encountered something he didn�t understand, but was determined to learn about, �But I would require to study it further before I know for sure.�

Some parts of Judeau�s brain apparently decided to shut down. This had gone beyond what he was prepared to deal with for one night, and he felt his head being filled by a new kind of numbness. The confusion cleared, simply because he stopped acknowledging it, and his mind began to work with a strange, crude effectiveness.

Okay, it said, so the brand will attract undead and demons � no, might attract undead and demons� then what? You could try to cut your hand off, but that would most likely not work and then you�d be a branded cripple instead.

Which would be worse, of course.

So, you can�t do anything about it, right? Then you must find a way to live with it.

Unless, of course, it comes and goes� in which case you�ll get off easier, and won�t have to worry about it from time to time.

So, step one: Find out more about it. Thirgynn will probably be only too eager to help you with that�

Judeau remained deeply immersed in this nice, calm thoughtfulness until they arrived at the camp, where Samina immediately slid down off the elfhorse and turned to Taskkarr, while pointedly ignoring Tail and Muzzle�s tail-wagging greetings.

�I need to borrow your bottle, Taskkarr.�

Carefully dismounting the unsaddled horsekin, Judeau glanced over at her. There had been an unmistakable tenseness in her voice � she was angry. He tried to remember what he might have done, but it was like trying to catch a small soap in a big bathtub.

�My bottle?� Taskkarr landed heavily on the ground and gave Samina a surprised look.

�Yes,� the scar-faced woman clipped, �Your bottle. Can I please have it?�

Taskkarr frowned and walked over to his pack, where he took out a small, metal bottle that he handed to Samina with one raised eyebrow.

�If� you need a drink, I wouldn�t recommend�� He began, but Samina took the bottle from him with a brief, strained smile.

�It�s not for drinking.�

Without explaining further, she pulled the cork out of the bottle, rolled up her sleeve, and poured the clear liquid over her wrist, hissing in pain when it mixed with the red blood that had trickled down over her hand from the deep bite-mark she was dousing. Judeau watched the pink droplets fall from her knuckles and sparkle in the light of the fire � And realisation hit him, along with a fuzzy memory of a great hunger� and a terrible pull�

�I did that� didn�t I? I� bit you��

Without turning around, but with a voice several degrees colder, Samina responded:

�Yes. Yes, you did.�

He swallowed and tried not to look at any of the others. �I�m very sorry� I wasn�t being myself.�

�I know.� She turned around, and her eyes bore into him like burning needles. He took an involuntary step backwards, but she walked straight up to him and waved her bloodied finger at his face.

�Why, Judeau? Why? First you run off like some damn fool so I have to chase you, then you get yourself possessed by a simple ghost! Why? Why did you give up? Can you explain that to me? He was nothing, hardly even a spirit anymore! You could easily have resisted, but you. Gave. Up. Why? You have no idea of what I had to risk to save your sorry ass � and then you whine about being sorry for not being dead! I�m-�

�Samina!�

Everybody�s heads turned to Steelwing. The tall Crusader�s voice had been unexpectedly strong, loud and commanding � and so was his presence as he locked a stern gaze on the scar-faced woman and continued to speak, albeit in a calmer, more reasonable tone:

�We have all had a rough night, Mr Judeau maybe the worst of us all, and none of us need an argument at this point. You are exhausted, Samina. Take care of your wound and go to sleep, and you can argue all you like in the morning.�

For a moment, their gazes locked in silent combat, but then Samina�s back straightened and she gave the elf a curt nod.

�You�re right. Sorry.�

Without a second glance at Judeau, the bounty hunter walked over to her pack and began scrounging through it.

The scout turned to Steelwing to express his gratitude for the interruption, but the elf had already turned away and walked over to the fire, where he proceeded to clean his weapons. With a tired shrug, Judeau turned to Thirgynn.

�Will you help me find out more about this brand?� He held out his hand and the miracle-worker�s face lit up.

�Certainly! Where do you want me to start?�

But then a brown, rough hand closed around Judeau�s wrist and the scout looked up into Shammael�s blue-grey eyes. The look they held was very confusing; he looked like he was concerned, disgusted and deeply ashamed at the same time. His raspy old voice was uncertain and unusually quiet as he looked away from Judeau�s eyes and mumbled:

�Shouldn�t you deal with that tomorrow? It�s been a long enough night for you as it is� You should get some rest��

Judeau placed his free hand over Shammael�s and actually managed a genuine smile at the old man.

�Thank you for your concern, Shammael, but� if this thing is as dangerous as I�m afraid it is, then there are some things I want to know before I do anything else� besides, I don�t think I�ll be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, anyway.� Shammael reluctantly let go of his wrist, and Judeau turned back to Thirgynn. �First of all, I want to know why it was gone for so long. I got this mark� right before the demons attacked.�

�Really?� The miracle-worker frowned deeply. �I can�t explain that right off� I�d have to perform-�

�It was me.�

The scout and both dwarves looked up at the Healer in surprise. He was very pale and didn�t seem to be able to lift his eyes from the ground, but his voice was very even as he spoke:

�It was the first thing I noticed� There was a feeling about you, something that made my skin crawl, made me feel nauseous� but I healed you anyway, because I am a Healer. I can�t not help someone in need� and that�s when I noticed� that thing!� He spat out the last word as if the mere notion of it had burned his tongue and left a sour taste in his mouth.

�It�s connected to you, to your very soul, and as I was healing you, I got a taste of the� creature� that placed it on you. It was so frightening� so powerful� unholy� and I understood that that mark was dangerous. So very, very dangerous � And its mere presence made me sick to my stomach � like it�s doing now� so I� I tried everything. I used up my entire stock of Dusklily, I mixed potions and salves out of every godsdamned magic-dampening plant and herb I had� and nothing helped. So I took the last of the most potent salve, pulverised my only piece of Silver Birch into it � enough to boost my power fivefold � and I prayed. I prayed for a whole night� and by morning, that horrible thing was gone.�

Here Thirgynn interrupted, apparently intrigued, �You had Silver Birch? Where did you get that? And why did praying help, when magic and herbs did not?�

Shammael hesitated, but then gingerly reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. As he pulled the cloth aside, an old burn mark stood out between the grey hairs on his chest, right over the heart. It had the shape of a wolf�s pawprint � Judeau had seen such enough times to recognise them on a glance.

Thirgynn tilted his head to the side, still looking intrigued.

�Huh. The Mark of the Beast. You are a devout follower of the God of the Hunt, the Lord of Beasts, then?�

�Not just a follower,� Shammael mumbled as he buttoned the shirt up again. �A priest, like any Healer who accepts the Mark� and I figured that since the mark was unholy, holy power would help. Uh, and the Silver Birch was given to me by my old master when he died.� He turned back to Judeau with a remorseful look and shoulders hunched, like a dog expecting to be kicked. �I-I am so very, very sorry that I lied to you, boy. So sorry. I know I shouldn�t have, but I� I thought I�d got it. I just wanted it to be gone so badly� Can you ever forgive this foolish old man?�

Judeau met Shammael�s gaze, for a while unable to say anything. In the background, he heard Thirgynn mumble to himself:

�Holy power, channelled through Silver Birch by a real priest� in a ritual setting� and the rune still came back? It must have been placed by� a god� or something with equal power!�

An image of a horrible face with its eyes stitched shut, its skin peeled back from its face and a brain too big to fit inside its skull tried to force itself out through the protective haze of Judeau�s mind, and he suppressed a shudder.

He placed one hand on the old man�s shoulder and tried to smile. �I forgive you, Shammael. You did what you thought was right� and nobody�s perfect.�

Shammael�s face brightened and his posture changed. It was as though a weight that Judeau had never noticed before had been lifted from his shoulders. Then Thirgynn interrupted, pointing a stern finger at the scout:

�And you haven�t told us the whole story behind this rune! Who placed it there? Why? When?�

�I-I�� his head began to buzz. For some reason, he couldn�t shape the words; his tongue wouldn�t obey him. It was as though a seething ocean of terrible memories waited just beyond his grasp, ready to burst forth as soon as he began speaking� Come on, Judeau. They�re only words. Words can�t hurt you. �It� I was�� His throat tightened and the buzzing in his head was beginning to make him dizzy. Why can�t I� Come on, tell him what he needs to know, so he can tell me what I need to know! ��Uck��

�Enough.� Once again, Steelwing�s calm voice interrupted the moment, and the Crusader got up from his place by the fire, calmly walked up to them and turned to Thirgynn. �It has been a long night, but it will only get shorter from here, miracle-worker Thirgynn. You and Mr Taskkarr will need your sleep if we are to continue our journey tomorrow � and you do want to be on your way, don�t you?�

�Well� um��

Steelwing didn�t let the dwarf finish the sentence, as if he knew very well what the answer would be. The elf turned his unemotional raptor gaze on Judeau.

�Mr Judeau, I realise that you would want to understand more about this curse � or whatever it is � but some things are better discussed in the light of day.�

Judeau couldn�t tear his eyes away from the Crusader�s compelling, steel-grey ones. Slowly, the buzzing in his head ceased and the scout let out a breath he didn�t know he had been holding, as he finally managed to look away.

�I� I think you�re right. I guess I need some time, after all.�

The Crusader gave him a curt nod and walked back to the fire. The two dwarves looked from the elf to Judeau to each other and then huddled into a hushed discussion in dwarfish.

Shammael gave Judeau a friendly grin, gripped him around the arm and pulled him over to the fire.

�Let me fix you up a potion to help you sleep, boy. Without any nasty dreams.�

Judeau found himself pressed down into a sitting position on the ground next to Steelwing, and while Shammael busied himself with fetching the herbs and whatnots he would need for the potion, the blond man glanced over at the elf.

�Steelwing��

The Crusader did not look up from his close scrutiny of the grey blade. �Hm?�

��Thanks� again.�

Steelwing gave a small, indifferent shrug and sheathed his blade � only to pick up his helmet and begin a careful polishing of the exquisitely crafted steel.

Then the dwarves came trudging up to the campfire and announced that they were going back to sleep.

�We�ll talk more tomorrow. Then I will have time to try to perform a ritual of divination, among other things,� Thirgynn stated. �I�ll need your co-operation, so I hope you will be feeling better by then�?�

Judeau smiled a little uncertainly at the miracle-worker. �I� can�t say right now. We�ll see how it is tomorrow, okay?�

Thirgynn nodded, but before the miracle-worker could speak, Taskkarr slapped his meaty hand down on Judeau�s shoulder and rumbled with a grin:

�Sleep well, manling. We can�t have you falling out of the saddle all day tomorrow� And don�t worry about your curse � there are ways to take care of such things.� The burly dwarf tapped his own smooth chin and winked.

�We don�t know if it�s a curse, yet�� Thirgynn admonished, but Taskkarr turned to the other dwarf and huffed:

�It�s a magical� thing, that�s really hard to remove and affects the bearer in a way that is unwanted and dangerous. I�d say it�s a bloody curse.�

�It�s not that simple��

The two dwarves walked back to the tent, quietly arguing all the way. An almost wordless growl from Samina put an end to their bickering, however, and soon the only sounds in the night were those of the wind and the crackling of the fire.

Judeau closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on his own body for a while, seeking out every tense muscle and slowly, consciously relaxing those that weren�t absolutely necessary to keep him upright. He felt his breathing and heartbeats slow down, and the mist in his head cleared. So far, so good.

He carefully allowed the first memory images to come, forcing himself to recognise the images from his dream and separate them from his actual memories.

Corkus� death � dream. He�d lost track of the grumpy old bandit in the chaos of the slaughter, but he�d last seen him with a sword in his hand and standing back to back with a bunch of his own people. If they�d managed to keep themselves together, who knew? They might have survived.

Rickert�s death � dream. The boy hadn�t even been there when the demons attacked. At least he was still alive, somewhere, with the rest of the wounded Hawks who�d stayed behind.

Pippin�s death � memory. Though he hadn�t seen it, he knew that it had happened. The gruesome details were dream images, though.

Gatts� death � dream. If anyone could have survived the massacre, it was that man. Of course, he hadn�t had his big sword with him - but surely that wouldn�t hold the Hundred-Man-Slayer back? He probably strangled all the demons with his bare hands.

Caska�s death� Judeau swallowed against the lump that threatened to rise in his throat and disturb his meditative calm. Caska�s death had been a dream. She was a strong woman, the strongest he�d ever seen, and second only to Gatts and Griffith in sword skills. She might have � no, would have kept fighting and running, would have kept defending herself. She had been unharmed when he fell, he�d seen to that. And Gatts would have found her. Judeau knew the huge man loved Caska enough to go through hell and high water to save her � he wouldn�t have left her behind.

�Here, boy. Drink it all up.� Judeau was brought back to the present by the Healer�s raspy old voice and looked up at the man. Shammael was holding a steaming cup out to him from across the fire with an almost nervous smile.

�Thank you.� Judeau took the offered brew and thoughtfully looked down into it, swirling it around a little but not yet drinking. He felt a strange aversion to the brew, and it was not just because of the anticipated taste. These last weeks he had been so sure that the bad memories were gone and that he wouldn�t suffer from them anymore, that he had dealt with it� but apparently he wasn�t over the loss and the betrayal yet. The dream had brought it all back and he couldn�t shake the feeling that it was somehow worse this time� Like the pain was deeper�

�If- if you want,� the Healer nervously stuttered, �I- I can� mix a little something in your food� It�s called �Heart�s Rest�� It�ll take the memories out of your heart for a while, give you time to deal with them in your head��

A coin unexpectedly dropped inside Judeau�s brain, and he looked up at the old man with surprise and disbelief.

�You did that before. While I was recuperating from my wounds� You drugged me the whole time I was with you� didn�t you?�

The Healer paled and shrunk back. His eyes grew large as he stared right into Judeau�s face. The scout didn�t have to hear the reply to know the answer.

�I-I� I� You� Your fever-dreams� the things you said� the words you screamed� the tears� the cries� the pain� Try to understand, boy, I can�t deal with such pain, it�s my nature � I�m a Healer, I have to try to stop pain� all pain. I made your pain go away, boy. It was the only thing I could have done.�

�That�s why you�ve been so keen on giving me stuff,� Judeau mumbled, half to himself, �You�ve been feeling guilty for drugging me, and afraid of how I would react if I found out��

�Don�t be mad, boy�� Shammael pleaded, almost whimpering like a wounded dog. �I did it because I had to� I had no choice� I�m so ashamed for having lied to you and deceived you for so long. Please� Judeau, please��

Still feeling pleasantly numb, Judeau tilted his head to the side and frowned slightly. �Shammael, why are you so afraid? What do you think I�ll do to you?�

The Healer rubbed his hands and looked away, whining softly. �I don�t... I don't know. I don�t know people - how they�ll react or what they�ll do. I don�t understand'em. I am one, but I can�t understand'em. Animals are so simple... they�ll never be angry at you for drugging them, as long as your hands are calm and your voice is soft. If you give�em a treat, they�ll love you, no matter what you�ve done. People are... weird. The kindest and nicest of them all can suddenly bite your head off and hate you forever if you just happen to say the wrong thing. I try not to get involved� but I am. I care about what you�ll think of me� cause I wasn�t lying when I said you were one of the few, few people that this bitter old man have ever actually liked.�

Judeau looked down into his mug. The brew in it was brownish, with a few green specks of chopped-up leaves of some kind floating around in it. Its smell was strong, and an interesting mix of mint and bitterness. For some reason that he didn�t at first understand, a bubbling sensation was working its way up through his throat, and it spilled over his lips as a chuckle that grew into a tired laugh. Shaking his head, Judeau looked up at the Healer again. The old man was watching him with the look of a man who�s standing next to a barrel full of gunpowder that may or may not have a burning fuse attached to it.

�It�s not easy being a Healer, is it?� Judeau asked, still smiling and slowly shaking his head. �Only wanting to help, but never knowing when or how it might backfire on you�� He chuckled again and wearily rubbed his own brow.

Then he sighed and looked down into the brew again. �To be honest, Shammael, I don�t know whether to be angry with you or not. You did what you thought was the best thing to do� and it probably was. But�� He held out the brew for the Healer to take it back. �I want to face this now. Otherwise I�ll just keep postponing the inevitable.�

Shammael made an uncertain gesture and shook his head. �Are you sure about that, boy?�

Judeau hesitated for a moment. It was very tempting, to accept the drugs and make the sharp edge of the horrible memories go away. To dull the pain and go on as he had up until tonight.

But if he did� would his fear of the memories only grow until it paralysed him, and he couldn�t be without the drugs for one day of his life? He�d seen it happen, with mercenaries who�d grown tired of all the killing, and people who had lost everything to the war. They had begun �drinking to forget�� though they�d never really forget � they�d just keep drinking more and more to keep themselves in a state of such drunkenness that they simply didn�t care anymore.

And then they�d start selling what little they had left to pay for the alcohol, because the drinking would make them stop caring about themselves as well, so they wouldn�t even try to find a job � not that anyone would want to hire someone who was constantly drunk. And when they didn�t have anything more to sell, they�d turn to begging and sleeping in the gutter, and one day they�d catch some horrible disease or freeze to death in a dirty back alley somewhere�

�No, hiding from the pain was not the answer. Besides� He should live with this pain. Somehow, anything less would be a betrayal to those who had died. To the memory of all those he had lost.

Judeau decisively handed the brew over to Shammael.

�It�s my pain. I�ll learn to live with it.� He smiled, feeling oddly light-hearted for the first time tonight, and shrugged. �Somehow.�

The Healer took the cup from him and nodded slowly. �As long as you�re sure...�

�I�m not sure about anything right now,� Judeau laughed, though the truth of those words stung in his belly. Shammael gave him a look that clearly conveyed his dislike of the scout�s choice, but took his things and packed them up, conscientiously emptying the cup under a small bush.

While the Healer was occupied, Steelwing suddenly got up and walked over to his own bedroll. He returned with an unused blanket that he held out to Judeau. The scout gave him a perplexed look.

�Take it, Mr Judeau, your lips are turning purple.�

He didn�t feel cold, but he accepted the blanket anyway with a grateful nod, and swept it about his shoulders. It was indeed a lot warmer than the chilly night air, and Judeau realised that he was still wearing only his pants and his sleeveless undershirt. He pulled the cloth tighter around his body and shivered as warmth began seeping back into him � Apparently, he had been a lot colder than he had thought.

�Th-thank you, Mr Steelwing.�

The elf picked up his helmet again, and went back to cleaning it. �You are welcome.�

Over by the packs, Shammael yawned mightily and rubbed his eyes. �I�m an old, old man,� he grumbled, almost too quietly for Judeau to hear it, �I don�t need nights like this, I need my sleep.� Then he raised his voice and turned back to the two men by the fire, adding with finality: �I�m going back to bed. Good night.�

�G�night, Shammael,� Judeau mumbled from the warm embrace of the blanket, beginning to feel a little drowsy, himself. Not enough to actually go to sleep, but comfortably exhausted in more than one way.

He sat in silence beside the Crusader for a while, considered going back to sort through his memories again, but decided against it. There would be time enough for that later.

He leaned his chin against his knee and allowed the dancing flames of the campfire to hypnotise him.

After an uncertain period of time, Steelwing suddenly spoke up.

�Was it true, what Samina said earlier?�

Judeau found himself startled out of a waking dream. He couldn�t remember what it had been about, only that it had felt disturbing. �Huh?�

Steelwing wasn�t looking at him; he was gazing down at the helmet, as if expecting the empty face-slot to answer him. �I asked-� He reached behind the helmet and there was a metallic �click� as a visor snapped into place. �-If what Samina said earlier was true.� Judeau�s eyes bulged; the visor was such a perfect replica of Steelwing�s frowning face that it was chilling. My god, who crafted that thing?

�Eh� huh? What? When?�

Another metallic �click� and the visor disappeared back into the helmet again. �When she accused you of giving in to possession by one of the ghosts. Was it true?�

Judeau studied the elf�s impassive features. The way he put the question was as though he was just making an attempt at casual conversation. The scout frowned warily.

�You�re asking me� if I did give in to the ghost?�

Steelwing carefully put the helmet down next to the rest of his equipment.

�Yes. Did you give in, or were you overcome?� He threw a quick glance over at Judeau. �Samina�s eyes are sharp, but even she may misjudge a person�s strength sometimes.�

Judeau thought back. There had been that chilling, paralysing feeling in the air, rendering him unable to move � not even to back away from the ghost that had grabbed him and pressed its face against his. He had tried, though. Struggled helplessly to make his numb limbs respond and throw the horrifying, glowing, rotted apparition off of him, but then� then he had had to fight in a completely different way, as the spectre had tried to push itself into him.

He had felt it, the icy cold touch of death, as it had wandered across his skin, seeking entrance, and his face had been so cold that he had feared it would shatter and fall away. He had felt the spidery touch against his mind � his spirit � as the ghost sought it out, and then the terrible pressure that had been like nothing else he�d ever encountered. It had pressed against his mind, tried to force it out of his body, into oblivion� but he had resisted, hadn�t he?

He had held on to himself and kept the tortured spirit at bay. It hadn�t been very hard� So what had happened? He sought deeper into the jumbled memories. There had been� a flash of memory� from the nightmare� and it had been followed by more and more painful images and memories. The thought struck him now that it might have been some kind of trick by the ghost, but right then his mind had been filled with pain and sadness and grief as image after image had reminded him of all that he had lost � all that had been taken from him.

And he had given in.

He had yielded, angry at the fate that he had had to suffer, grieving the friends he had lost � and part of him pathetically grateful to be relieved of it all.

In that moment, he had lost the will to go on living. He felt ashamed at how easily he had given up the fight and just surrendered. What Griffith�s betrayal hadn�t been able to take from him, he had nearly given away to a weak, unsettled spirit.

Judeau glanced up at the elf, who was watching him with that unnerving, expressionless gaze of his. Who knew what was going on behind those cold, hard orbs? No, the Crusader didn�t need to hear how weak he had been, it was humiliating enough as it was.

�I� can�t remember properly� a lot of tonight is just a haze to me.� Judeau paused for a moment and tried to sound as casual as possible when he added: �Why do you ask?�

The elf looked away with a thoughtful frown and carefully wet his lips before answering, speaking even more slowly and deliberately than usual:

�Well, if you did give in, then there is something I would like to� ask of you.�

Judeau frowned, still on his guard. �Uh huh? And what�s that?�

Steelwing steepled his fingers and studied them for a moment, as if thinking very seriously about how to phrase what he wanted to say.

�I would like to ask that, if you should ever lose the will to fight again and feel that you want to surrender� or die� kindly think about whom else you might pull down along with you.�

Judeau stared at Steelwing, unsure if he had understood what the tall elf had just said, and Steelwing turned to face him, locking his stare with that hypnotic gaze and speaking quietly, seriously:

�I understand if you gave in tonight, since you did not seem to be fully yourself, and maybe the ghost managed to wear you down � after all, you are only human� But I hope I am right in my assumption that it was a one-time occurrence � if you actually did give in, that is � because that woman gets herself into enough trouble on her own; she does not need your help in that matter.� The gaze hardened and a silken edge of menace glinted through in the Crusader�s voice, �In other words: Should you, through any kind of weakness, get Samina killed� I will kill you.�

Many feelings battled for supremacy inside Judeau�s head; anger at the threat and the accusation of weakness, fear at the unmistakable promise in the Crusader�s eyes � but most of all surprise. His voice was remarkably calm as he replied:

�So you do care about her, then.�

Again, the elf looked away, and all traces of the threat vanished as subtly as they had come. His eyes narrowed and he frowned slightly in newfound thoughtfulness. When he spoke, it was slowly, but without the careful deliberation of earlier.

�I� do not care� per se. I owe her. I owe her everything.�

Judeau blinked. �What?�

The elf regarded him calmly, calculatingly for a moment, and then nodded almost imperceptibly.

�To sate your human curiosity, I will tell you the story. It will help you understand the seriousness of the situation.� He shrugged. ��And there is nothing in it that could be used against me, anyway.�

He paused again and steepled his fingers once more, tapping them against his thin lips.

�I used to belong to a group of elven Crusaders,� he begun. �There was Icefang, Silverwolf, Moonclaw, Nightviper and I. We worked well as a team, and if we were separated, we worked well on our own � as is the way it should be with Crusaders� Ah, but I think I am letting myself get carried away. Elven storytelling is much more patient than that of humans� Right, to the point, then: One day Icefang, who was the oldest, most experienced of us, and therefore the closest thing we had to a leader, decided to attempt to clear out the ruined city of Altara, so we followed him.

"Altara was once a city as great as the Great City of Ducarron, as filled with knowledge as Bataki Skiel, the library-city, and as saturated with power as the Academy - the ancient city of the mages. Nobody really knows what happened there, but legends say that someone learned too much and tried to challenge the gods � and the gods destroyed the city and placed an eternal curse on the site� Some scholars who have studied the place � from a safe distance � claim that magical resonance as if from a multitude of high-level spells still lingers there�

"�Well, whatever the cause, Altara was destroyed in one single night, about two thousand years ago, and it is still forbidden ground. Very few have returned from its ruined buildings and fabled catacombs with their lives, and even fewer with their sanity. It is a place to which dark powers are drawn � undead stalk the ancient streets, demons hunt in the deep mazes, and the restless spirits of those who came to seek the lost treasures of Altara howl in the darkness.�

Judeau listened, enchanted by Steelwing�s calm, confident voice. It had taken on an unusual resonance, almost as if the elf was about to begin singing, and it didn�t matter at all that he had gotten side-tracked in his story again � the description of Altara had filled the scout with a feeling he hadn�t known for many years. Judeau pulled the blanket closer around himself as the night suddenly felt colder, darker and more alive. This was just like the way he had felt when he was still a small boy who had stayed up longer than he should, listening to campfire tales of ghosts, trolls and dark magic. His eyes remained fixed on Steelwing�s impassive face as the elf continued his story.

�We fought many battles together, working our way deeper and deeper into the dark catacombs, until we reached a junction. It was decided that I should scout ahead in one path, and Nightviper in the other.� Steelwing fell silent again and gazed into the flames, but it was obvious that his mind was far, far away. When he continued, the singsong resonance in his voice was gone.

�I found a room, lit by a light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. In its midst was an altar of some kind, and on the altar lay-� With a soft, metallic hiss, Steelwing drew both his blades and crossed them in front of him. �-These.� Steelwing regarded the blades for a moment, before indicating the one on the left. �This is Karion, who thirsts for the blood of demons, and this-� he indicated the other. �-is Helios, who hungers for the unholy energies of the undead. They are holy weapons.� After a moment of studying the swords, Steelwing sheathed them again and turned back to face Judeau.

�I did not take them at once, mind you. I looked around the room and took a few steps forward to investigate them further� when the Entity attacked me. I do not know what it was, and I suspect I never will. I have never seen its like. Its surprise attack broke my sword as I tried to deflect it, and in desperation, I drew these blades. That seemed to frighten the Entity and it unleashed a blast of magical energy at me� and then, suddenly, it was gone, and the room was plunged in darkness, and there was a human woman kneeling on the floor in front of me, her back turned to me. Samina.

"She later told me that she had defeated the Entity � she insists that it was more from luck than anything else � and that she had thought I was some kind of statue, until I spoke up behind her. She had come to Altara in the pursuit of a criminal, and I agreed to go with her until we caught up with my team.

"We never did. We met the dwarves down there, and defeated a demon that Mr Taskkarr had tracked to the place. We saw the criminal that Samina chased be eaten by the same demon, and we got ourselves out of there as well, but never did we see any trace of the other Crusaders.

"Later, when we ran into a tribe of forest elves, I learnt that I had been imprisoned down there � caught in some kind of stasis� for eight hundred years.�

Once again the elf�s mind seemed to be far away but it was without emotion that he spoke,

�Eight hundred years, in the blink of an eye.�

Then his mind seemed to return to the present and he glanced over at Judeau. �So you see, if Samina had not come and defeated the Entity, I could have been standing there forever. I do not fear death, indeed, I do not fear anything � but this: to be removed from the circle of rebirth� forever. All elves fear that fate. Even the Crusaders.� Still holding Judeau captive with his eyes, Steelwing�s quiet voice softened further. �My debt to her is one that cannot be repaid. She claims to be following me, but in truth� wherever she goes, I will follow. I am her sword, now.�

Her sword� Judeau nodded slowly. �I understand.�

And he did. The fierce loyalty that the Crusader spoke of was something he had seen before � though maybe not for the same reasons. Odd, he thought, the guy I thought was the most like Griffith� now almost seem to have more in common with Caska. Funny how things can be, sometimes�

Steelwing regarded him closely for a moment, and then he leaned back, seeming pleased.

�Yes, I think you do.�

They sat for a while in silence, and despite everything, Judeau�s eyes were beginning to drift shut. He knew that he would inevitably fall asleep, but the prospect of more horrible nightmares seemed all too possible, and in an attempt to avoid the lure of sleep, the scout spoke up again.

�Um� what had happened to the other Crusaders?�

Steelwing gave off something that could have been a sigh. �Long dead and gone. Elves can live for hundreds of years, but should we become Crusaders, our life expectancy shortens dramatically.�

�Wow, hundreds of years?� Judeau looked up at the elf. �How old are you?�

�Hmm� not counting the eight hundred years in stasis, I am �eighty-three. Still quite young, in other words.� Then he frowned slightly at the fire. �But I was supposed to have died at least seven hundred and fifty years ago.�

Steelwing said nothing more and Judeau didn�t know what to say, so the silence dragged out between them again.

I was supposed to have died� Judeau turned his palm up and studied the jagged burn mark again. There were faint traces of blood around it, something he hadn�t noticed up until now.

�I was supposed to have died,� he mused out loud, �almost three months ago.�

Steelwing�s silence was attentive, and Judeau continued with a sigh:

�I lost everything that day. Everything. From the moment I saw what they had done to Griffith, I started losing� When I saw his broken body, I lost all hopes for a better future. When we escaped from Windham, I lost many comrades.� He gave a small, humourless laugh. �But that was nothing, of course, compared to those who had already died� and those who were about to die. If I had known that there were creatures such as the �God Hand�� If I had known about the offer they would make to him� I heard them, you know. We all did. Their voices were something you felt, rather than heard� they echoed inside our heads. We heard everything� which only made it so much more painful, when�� Judeau closed his eyes against the memory, but in his heart, he heard the faint echo:

��I make the offering��

There was a lump in his throat as he continued, �And I�m sure that that was exactly the purpose. They wanted us to suffer, as much as possible.�

�That is the way of demons,� Steelwing said quietly.

�I lost them all. I don�t even know if I managed to help save... her. In my nightmare tonight I saw them all die � everyone I�ve ever cared for� and when I woke up, this was there. The Brand of the Sacrifice, the mark that he placed on us. What if what I saw was a vision, and not a dream?�

�Yes, what if?� Judeau looked up at the Crusader, who was looking intently at him. �What if it was? Does it matter if they are dead or not? You are in a different world now, Mr Judeau, you will never see them again, anyway.� Steelwing made a sound surprisingly close to a huff and leaned back. Never taking his eyes off of Judeau�s, he kept speaking: �Sure, right now you are grieving them, you are sad and angry � angry enough to chase the one who took them away from you, wherever he might run to, and kill him � slowly. And, strangely enough, you are also angry with those who died. Angry that they disappeared and left you behind, angry that they were not strong enough to avoid getting killed� and these thoughts in turn make you feel guilty and ashamed.� Steelwing shut himself up with a visible effort. Judeau tried not to gape at the Crusader, because not only did everything he had said ring true - he had spoken more passionately than ever before and there was still a burning heat in his eyes as he spoke in his usual, calm, unemotional tone again:

�But the human heart is a fickle thing; you will soon enough forget them, and go on with your life as if they had never existed at all.�

The elf then stood up, gathered his things and walked away from the fire. He sat down on the ground at the edge of the firelight and turned his back on the flickering flames.

�Try to get some sleep, Mr Judeau,� he called back in a cool, unemotional voice, but Judeau felt that there had been a lingering, hard edge in the words.

What was that all about? the scout thought to himself as he got up and slowly walked back to the tent. He glanced back at the statuesque form of the Crusader before letting the tent flap close behind him. It almost seemed like he was angry at me, for some reason.

As Judeau nestled down onto his bedroll and yawned, he thought about the Crusader�s words and felt a sharp, painful sting in his chest.

�But I don�t want to forget them�

And then all thoughts were swept away as the exhausted scout fell into a much needed but fitful sleep.

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