Thirgynn walked through the wide streets of the Deep City in concentrated thought, her red cloak still occasionally wafting the scents from the celebration of Taskkarr and Barain�s return up to her sensitive nose. Now, there was a party that could have been so much livelier - but it could not be helped: Recent circumstances had thrown something of a damper on the whole thing. Not that it hadn�t been an enjoyable distraction from said circumstances, but still. Thirgynn sighed. She was sure she would soon be missed and maybe even searched for, but she hoped that at least Taskkarr would understand. Right now, she needed some time to herself to think � and to come to terms with� well, everything.

The second shift had already begun and those who worked while the first shift slept were going about their business all around her. Some of them nodded respectfully as they passed her, but she paid them only a fleeting attention. Without really thinking about it, she turned down a lesser used path and soon entered a small and sparsely decorated tunnel into the mountain wall.

Earlier, once the introductions in the antechamber had been taken care of and the longlings had been ushered ahead into the Inner City at the heels of the main army, the High King had taken Barain and Taskkarr, as well as herself and Yrgnir, Barain's red-bearded hakkr, aside and explained the situation to them, and it had proven to be far more serious than any of them could ever have guessed.

Taskkarr had cursed, Barain had frowned deeply, Yrgnir had � being one of the Hold's expert tacticians � started asking clever questions and making suggestions, and Thirgynn herself had retreated into a very thoughtful silence. But it was all merely different ways to deal with the gut-wrenching instability that the unsettling news had brought them.

The chalk haired miracle-worker absentmindedly entered the small zuk'vaz room at the end of the tunnel, closed the door and pulled the lever, all on nothing but automated routine. As the floor trembled and then smoothly begun to rise under her feet, Thirgynn frowned more deeply and pensively clasped her hands behind her back.

The steam tunnels. The enemy's first attack had been on the steam tunnels. Of course, considering that they had demons under their command, that alone wasn't very surprising, but what more was that the drakelings (pronounced tchun�ni in dwarfish and referring to the creatures more commonly known as 'dark elves,' due to certain unpleasant characteristics they shared with the dragons that they allegedly worshipped) had placed an inverted shield spell around the entire mountain and so any and all communication with the other Holds was completely cut off, even magical such. The Holds would surely know that something was amiss, since they could not receive or send any messages to Yhakk�Zaran�Kil, but without the steam tunnels, even if they had started making preparations the very same day as communication was cut, any reinforcements they could send would take about two years to reach them � and in that time the steam tunnels would be almost completely cleared and rebuilt, even with a fair amount of demonic interference. It was far more likely that they were focusing their attention on restoring said tunnels instead, as well they should be.

Of course, two years was absolutely nothing to a dwarf Hold � they had been self-sustaining long before the dwarven race ever breached the surface of the world and they had never found any reason to make themselves dependant on surface-dwellers of any kind � that was not what was weighing on Thirgynn's mind.

What are those thrice-cursed drakelings planning? The thought nagged at her, would not leave her in peace.

The zuk'vaz room came to a smooth halt, and with a very stern, introvert frown, Thirgynn stepped out onto the deserted walkway. She absentmindedly walked all the way over to the balustrade and gazed down, and only then did her face smoothen out into a warm smile. Far beneath her, glowing gently up through the vast, silent cavern of the great grotto, the sparse lights of the Deep City spread out all over the bowl-shaped floor, as well as some ways up the walls. The sight reminded Thirgynn strongly of a school of mokkor � cave fish � that had used to come to sleep in the deep, still pool just outside of her quarters, back when she had still been apprenticed to Master Gurnis. Their feelers had glowed just like that once all of them had settled, and she had stood at the edge of the deep, black pool looking down at them through the perfectly still surface of the water, just like this - thinking of everything and nothing, when really she should have been sleeping already.

Chuckling slightly at the old memory, Thirgynn heaved a small sigh of contentment. From up here, everything looked so normal: Unchanged, untouched, peaceful and familiar. It was hard to believe that the Hold was under a siege at all.

With that thought her frown returned, along with a fierce desire to protect these softly shimmering little lights - the representatives of everything that had ever truly mattered to her. Her hands tightened into white-knuckled fists where they rested on the banister and she let out a long, ponderous breath through her nose.

By Durgin's hammer, what were they planning? She turned away from the sight of the Deep City and trudged on along the spacious walkway, deeply immersed in thought.

What made this attack so different from any other and so strange was, in fact, the magic that the drakelings had applied in it. First of all, all three watch towers had been blasted apart at exactly the same time, with no survivors. Directly following that attack the perimeter outposts � the hidden as well as the obvious - had all been attacked. Again, a far too coordinated incident considering the sheer magnitude of the task. But the most terrible and unbelievable part of this was that they had lost them all � Every single perimeter outpost had been overrun within the hour.

Mostly because of the demons, of course. Taskkarr had sputtered when he had been told that the enemy were using Summoning Demons � demons powerful enough to summon and control minions of their own � and had almost laughed with disbelief. 'They are demolishing their own mine!' he had said, 'Truly, all we have to do is wait for them to lose control!'

But, as the High King had pointed out, the drakelings were controlling them - maybe as many as six of them, even - and without any apparent trouble.

Adding this knowledge to the fact that the enemy's army was shielded by several Magic Barrier spells, preventing the miracle-workers' divination spells from penetrating more than one or two areas at a time (so many Barrier spells of such density in one single place was nigh unheard of!) and thereby leaving the dwarves with embarrassingly little information on their enemies, as well as the appearance of possessed trollkin on the battlefield � and the miracle-workers, with Master Gurnis the Thunderer at the head, had found it safe to assume that the enemy must have a small coven of summoners and dark mages at their disposal. Probably mind-linked, to account for the massive power and coordination necessary in order to accomplish all of this.

And now, the Outer Gate had been destroyed. Thirgynn halted at a seemingly unremarkable place on the walkway and turned to face the wall. She remained there for a moment, as if hesitating, but then confidently strode up to the smooth rock surface and opened her magic Sight. It had once been a very difficult thing to do, she remembered with another sudden and unusual touch of nostalgia, but now she Saw as easily as others flexed an arm or swung a hammer. Immediately the world around her changed: What had been clear, sharp lines and contours before became merely diffuse suggestions of the same. A slight pull downwards and to her right told her the direction in which the Sanctum of Vontar was placed - and right in front of her, on what had previously been merely a high stone wall, polished to sleekness, an enormous rune suddenly blazed forth in vivid red.

Where she stood, Thirgynn reached only about a sixth of the Rune's height, and it stretched out just as far to either side of her. It was a simple enough design, angular as all dwarf runes, and the sight of it sent an unexpectedly strong wave of relief through her. She reached up and followed one of the familiar lines with her fingers, feeling the massive power contained within as a sharp vibration against her mind.

This was one of the eight Great Runes that together formed a circle (and with their field of effect, a sphere) around the entire Hold, and the world had yet to see a better or more powerful protection spell than the one contained within these ancient, meticulously cared-for magical symbols.

This one, however, had a special meaning for Thirgynn � one of her ancestors, along with a few other miracle-workers, had permanently sacrificed a part of their souls and bound it to the Rune to ensure that its magic would never fade or run the risk of being corrupted. She usually found herself in this place when she needed to ponder some difficult problem, and sometimes she almost thought she could sense the presence of the long-dead dwarf, as if he sat next to her in companionable silence. And as disturbing as that reasonably should be, it always rather helped her to think.

Yes, she mused, as long as these Runes exist, it does not matter how many mages they can mind-link and turn towards us. The runes on the Outer Gate were nothing by comparison. We have nothing to fear.

But still that nagging doubt remained. It just did not make sense: The destruction of the Outer Gate � considering the runes just inside of the Gate were more powerful than those on the doors themselves, it seemed like nothing so much as a huge waste of power or possibly an idiotically arrogant display of the same. Also, the disruption of all communication outside the Hold: For some reason, the enemy didn't want to alert the other Holds as to what was going on, which meant that they had something planned to happen before the steam tunnels had been rebuilt � Thirgynn was not so naive as to believe that the enemy did not anticipate the speed of their reconstruction schedule.

But what? That was the burning question. The miracle-worker's frown deepened even more as she leaned her back against the blazing Rune, crossed her arms over her chest and sank down to a sitting position, trying and testing this difficult dilemma from any angle she could think of. Drakelings were nothing if not devious - a part of the reason why they had that particular nickname - and she found it a great strain on her dwarven mind to attempt to think as one.

The only thing that was exceptional about these enemies was their magic - but even so it was still a far cry from penetrating the ancient protection spell around the Hold, and with that still in place it did not matter how many demons they summoned � the tainted creatures would never be able to step into the hold. And frankly, the army they did have was hardly a threat worthy of recognition. The Hold's physical defenses were more than enough to deal with them.

So what were they planning?

Thirgynn remained by the Great Rune for several hours, until she had to concede that it was time to withdraw if she was to get any sleep at all before returning to her duties. But while the zuk'vaz room gently lowered her to the level of the Deep City, she wearily ran a hand over her face and questioned whether she would truly get any rest at all � she felt no closer to the answer now than she had when the question had first presented itself.

~
The hunched, lavishly robed figure hummed to itself, rocking back and forth in a manner that Supreme Commander Leivisati had come to interpret as 'gleeful'. The high elf general paused for an instant and tilted his head very slightly to the side, a small frown marring his perfect, porcelain-pale countenance as he listened to the unarticulated, disturbingly lilting sound. After a brief moment, the words that Leivisati thought he had heard reappeared in the gratingly off-key humming:

�Clever little rats that hide in their hole

Soft noses twitching, eyes black as coal

Think they are safe from the claws of the cat

Hoards every scrap, until they get fat

But a rat that is fat will not run very fast

And a cleverer cat will catch them, at last.�

The voice had a decidedly unnatural timbre, and kept rising and falling acutely as if it couldn�t decide on whether it was male or female - or both. The high elf Commander carefully let his face smoothen out so as not to betray any emotion that he did not wish to show, and stepped up to the humming, rocking figure.

�I assume all went according to plan, oh great and powerful Ezanduaal?�

The hunched man turned to look at him, and Leivisati frowned on the inside. He did find the other�s appearance rather appalling, but then he himself never had and never would allow any surgical modifications to be done to his own exquisite flesh, and could honestly not understand those who did. Certainly, it might be aesthetically pleasing, but was it really worth the price?

Case in point: Ezanduaal the Summoner. With his lips stitched shut and the flesh on his cheeks carved off he did make a thrillingly horrible spectacle, especially since his craft had endowed him with slightly elongated and viciously sharpened teeth - but what was the point of doing such a thing if it meant that one could no longer enjoy the taste of blood, or a fine wine?

Also, though some others thought it very attractive, Leivisati found that to him the other traces of demonic corruption that the Summoner exhibited, such as blotchy skin both spectral white and bruise-like purple, his hunched posture and complete lack of hair, hints at scaly hide rather than smooth skin in places, and the unnatural, bleak lavender color of his eyes, rather made him look like a mockery of the pure high elven shape. And Leivisati did not appreciate being mocked.

�Oh yes, most excellent Lord Leivisati,� the Summoner answered, his dry tongue clicking subtly against its cage of teeth. Ezanduaal's fascination with body modification had long ago taken away his ability to speak, and the Summoner had fashioned a spell to shape the words for him instead. Leivisati had no desire to find out how the man could even sustain himself at all, but assumed that demonical energy had to be involved in that, too. �My theories were practically perfect, and with what I learnt from this little experiment I am sure you will find the progression of our plans to be most satisfactory."

The emaciated Summoner then bowed, a tad too late for the humility he so readily radiated to be truly genuine. Also, the infuriating man had once again dared to refer to the conquest plans as �theirs� � a plain disregard for Leivisati�s higher rank. The high elf Commander frowned disapprovingly and saw a shade of haughty insolence in Ezanduaal�s pale, mad little eyes before the twisted creature turned back to stare out across the battlefield at the blasted entrance of the dwarf Hold, with a hoarse, trembling hiss that may and may not have been a quiet giggle.

Leivisati studied the Summoner for a little while longer, watching the man absentmindedly bring a gnarled hand up to his face and scrape one long, black talon (all right, so demonic corruption also had certain obvious perks) against his exposed molars, then at the tiny nub of a horn that poked through the blotchy skin just above his right eyebrow. After that, the Summoner began gently stroking his own bald, tattooed scalp, humming quietly to himself all the while.

�Such clever, clever little rats��

�Well then,� Leivisati concluded, already getting bored of the mad Summoner�s company, �Proceed with the preparations, and keep me informed of your progress.�

Ezanduaal didn�t even bother to turn back and bow, merely nodded at the Commander over his shoulder.

�Certainly, oh magnificent Lord Leivisati.�

As he turned to walk away, the high elf noble allowed himself another small frown. If you weren�t so useful, Summoner, I would put you down like the mad dog you are. He lightly touched the hilt of the sword at his side and felt it hum subtly in reply.

Leivisati had only walked a few steps, however, when he was intercepted by Vajel, another one of his vassals � though infinitely less tiresome to have around. Even if he did have a penchant for excessive and sometimes downright ridiculous arrogance, it was an understandable character flaw considering the noble bloodline that Vajel hailed from � a family almost as prominent as Leivisati�s own. Almost.

The heavily armored warrior immediately fell to one knee before him and bowed his head as if to anticipate the strike of an executioner. Leivisati smiled, pleased to see such a flawless display of servitude, however insincere it might be beneath the surface, after the Summoner�s infuriatingly blatant insubordination.

�Ah, wielder of a legendary blade Vajel. How is my army?�

�My Lord and Master Leivisati,� the warrior said, removing his helmet but not yet rising to his feet. �It is well. Losses were no worse than anticipated, and the trolls have settled some � all exactly the way you planned it.�

Leivisati rewarded the pale, sable-haired warrior with a satisfied smile and a small, graceful nod. �You may rise, noble Vajel. I understand you supervised this battle from within. Did you find a worthy challenge this time?�

Vajel slowly rose to his feet to the sound of faintly clanking metal and frowned, letting a small sigh of disappointment out through his long, sharp nose.

�I am afraid not, my Lord and Master. None yet to even compare with this one.� He indicated the grey-bearded dwarf head that adorned the left shoulder-spike of his nightsteel armor. Then the high elf warrior hesitated and his frown deepened for an instant.

�However� No, I do not wish to bore you with insignificant and probably unimportant details, my Lord and Master.�

Leivisati interrupted the warrior�s apologetic bow softly:

�That is for me to decide, noble Vajel. Do tell me of this detail that caught your attention.�

Ink-black eyes sought his own ebony ones in a moment of uncertainty, but the noble warrior quickly found himself and looked down in another subservient bow. Afraid? Of me? How clever of you, Vajel�

�Of course, my Lord. It is true that I found no exceptional fight in this battle, but I did find a human.�

�A human?� Leivisati did not hide his surprise. �I thought all human warriors that were here had been disposed of when this Trade City fell.� He indicated the battlefield behind them with a nod over his shoulder.

�As did we all, my Lord. But this one� I have not met him before, I am sure� there was something unusual about him.�

�Unusual?� Leivisati asked, feeling the first stirrings of impatience but habitually ignoring them for the present time.

�Yes. I noticed him from quite a distance, and it was as if� as if he was calling for me, challenging me, without even knowing of my presence. It might just have been the thrill of battle, but I was intrigued so I answered his challenge� and when I came closer to him� it was as though something about him somehow tried to call up my blood haze. Again, it was very faint and I can not say that it was��

�That� was a human?�

Both noblemen turned towards the twisted shape of the Summoner, who had somehow walked almost all the way up to the two of them without making so much as a whisper. Now, however, he was making a very dry and uneven hissing sound that gave the impression of the last stages of some terminal illness, and Leivisati noticed that the gnarled, clawed hands shook slightly.

�And you� met him?�

Narrowing his eyes at the lack of proper acknowledgements, Vajel eyed Ezanduaal with equal disrespect. �Yes� you would know of this person, my Lord?�

The corrupted Summoner half-turned to stare at the gaping hole in the mountain wall across the battlefield again, still repulsively wheezing.

�We felt it. The pull� the hunger. Yes� a call. A curse. A cursed man. And what a curse!� A shiver of excitement ran through the Summoner�s bony body. �How lovely. I shall have him. We must have him��

Leivisati had come to understand that when Ezanduaal started referring to himself in plural form it was usually the end of any intelligent conversation, so he gestured at Vajel to follow and turned to walk away.

�Commander Leivisati,� the unnatural voice interrupted him. The high elf did not turn back, but waited for an instant in case the mad Summoner might actually have something worthwhile to say.

�Do you know what humans call us? They call us dark elves.� Again that wheezing, coughing almost-giggle. �Because they are afraid of the dark! Such fun little rats, aren�t they? Such fun, clever little rats� to hunt� And in the dark - oh yes - in the darkest of nights... I will hunt them. We will hunt them.�

Burying the annoyance over this waste of his time, Leivisati calmly strode away from the mumbling, giggling, corrupted man. He had a lot of important work to do.

As he walked, he addressed Vajel without turning to look at him.

�This human, you did not kill him?�

The warrior seemed slightly distracted as he made a faint, noncommittal noise at the back of his throat.

�I will admit that he was rather fast for his kind, my Lord, but unfortunately still unworthy of my blade, so I crushed his face with the pommel. I suppose he survived if the Lord Summoner says so��

�Yes,� Leivisati replied curtly, �I suppose he would know.�

Vajel�s arrogantly dismissive attitude of the opponents he deemed �unworthy� was another thing that Leivisati could not grasp for himself. Then again, if every high elf had shared his own view on how to deal with enemies, there would have been none left to spread the useful horror-stories about �dark elves� to the rest of the world.

And that would have been quite a shame, really.

*
Judeau was absolutely fascinated.

How could he not be? He had stayed inside the dwarf Hold for something like two or three months now, and he had only just begun to grow accustomed to living in a big, largely empty, bowl-shaped city that was at all hours lit up by blazing braziers, torches and magical "glowballs," creating something mostly akin to a perpetual bright twilight. And then he had decided to turn a new corner and had come upon something like this.

The scout walked reverently through the quiet, luminescent garden, staring in undisguised awe at the fancifully shaped fungi all around. During his stay here in what Samina had called the Inner City (apparently there was another city even further into the mountain where most of the dwarves lived, called the Deep City, but he hadn't gotten to see that yet) he had seen a lot of impressive artwork - each square and larger building seemed to have its own representative statue or construction, or sometimes several, arranged in such a way that they complimented each other most elegantly - but this was something that blew even the most finely crafted statues out of the water, at least as far as Judeau was concerned.

Then again, it could just be the welcome sight of any kind of vegetation that wasn't already on a platter.

The path led him in under the massive, bluish-glowing hats of two apple tree-sized mushrooms and he stopped, reaching out to curiously touch the dark brown top of the disc-like appendages that grew out of the white, faintly fluorescent trunks at even intervals, creating opposing spiral patterns from root to hat. It was just as velvety to the touch as it looked. Judeau assumed that these disc-fungi were in fact parasiting on the larger mushrooms, because their flaky undersides glowed a subdued shade of green that very nicely broke off from the soft blue and white luminescence of their hosts.

And there was more - So much more: Small, spindly fungi that glowed bright white from top to bottom, larger, trumpet-shaped ones whose exposed undersides emitted a very faint, pinkish glow, small mushrooms with shimmering, orange and red hats... the fungi came in every shape and every size, and many different colors - although for some reason mostly different shades of blue - and they had all been obviously and carefully arranged to look their very best. Also, all through the soft, organic shapes of glowing fungi wound equally organic-looking pieces of metallic artwork - which was very surprising indeed considering the general impression Judeau had gotten from dwarven artwork throughout the rest of the city, which was many things but not exactly organic.

Then again, he supposed even dwarves had to have their eccentrics - and how eccentric would you not have to be to design a garden of glowing fungi in the first place?

Judeau paused and frowned briefly at himself. Of course, it wasn't like they had any flowers down here...

Some fungi grew off of the metal constructions, some grew around them, and yet some were encircled by them as if the metal had grown around them, instead, and it was absolutely fascinating. Judeau found himself riveted, following the winding path until it widened into a clearing of sorts where big, bowl-shaped disc fungi led a small, cold stream of water all the way from high up on the unusually craggy stone wall into a still, dark pool at ground level. Here he had to pause and watch the glow of the silent garden reflected in the gently rippling surface of the cool pond.

He must have stood there for two minutes or more before he noticed the bench just behind him and decided to sit down for a while. The moment his weight was off his knees, however, a wave of warmth surged through him and almost made him moan in surprise as every muscle in his body tingled with grateful relaxation. The hypnotically calming lights of the fungi-garden had let him completely forget about the excruciating training pass he had just endured under Steelwing's stern command.

Temporarily favoring his weary body over the strange beauty of the luminous garden, Judeau closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the smooth steel with a drawn-out sigh, relishing the pervasive silence and the much-needed relaxation.

He still trained with the Crusader every day, even if it wasn't always such a complete physical workout as today. Some days his lessons consisted of nothing more than questions and answers and lengthy discussions about Steelwing�s "mental techniques" - what he had understood, what he was expected to understand, what his next training exercise should be and the philosophy behind it, and so on, and so on - while his body rested so that he wouldn't risk wearing himself out completely.

This dependable routine was a good thing in more than one way: First of all because Judeau could feel his body strengthening and his skill improve, little by little - By now, he would say that he had regained all that he had lost during his convalescence and that he was actually starting to get even better than before. Secondly, because it gave him something to do.

Judeau wasn't a part of the defending army, but he could tell that there had been no more serious attempts at an attack on the Dwarf Hold since the chaotic day of their arrival, and even though they could not see it from in here, it was impossible to forget about the brooding army just outside the gates. In the general sense of unrest and uncertainty that this caused to slowly seep through the Inner City, Judeau thought that he might have gone mad if he hadn't had some kind of distraction to turn to.

Of course, there was always Samina. Judeau felt his lips quirk into a small smile. Each day, after he had left the Crusader to his own even more rigorous training, Judeau sought out the bounty hunter and the two of them would either go for a walk through the city or sit in an alcove in the company-room of Gorgoz' tavern and talk, mostly depending on his level of exhaustion - and during this time he had learnt so much from the scar-faced woman.

About dwarves, elves and trolls and all the other different people and cultures that merged, mingled and battled all over the enormous continent, about beasts and dangers - and about his comrades.

Like how Taskkarr had once, after saving the High King's life in battle(!), asked for the (in lack of a better word) princess' hand in marriage and been granted it since dwarves took life-debts extremely seriously - which apparently made him some kind of adopted son of the King... Judeau still wasn't too sure about the technicalities in that matter, but didn't really try to comprehend them, anyway. Dwarven family structure seemed complicated at best and perfectly incomprehensible at worst.

The hakkr system was far easier to understand, then: A dwarf of high rank would be appointed an aide, an expert in some area that would be considered useful to him in the kind of work he was entrusted with. The hakkr was expected to work as an advisor and all-around assistant or servant - and possibly body-guard as well - among other things in order to further ensure that the noble dwarf never made a rash or damaging decision, for himself or for the people under his responsibility.

As the case was with Thirgynn and Taskkarr: Taskkarr was a demon hunter and since demons were magical creatures that sometimes could not be affected by normal, non-magic weapons, he had very good use indeed of an expert at magic, such as Thirgynn.

And Taskkarr had, as mate of a royal person, a lot of responsibilities to keep track of. He and the miracle-worker were often tied up with different kinds of work in the Deep City, so Judeau didn't see much of them. But between Steelwing's and Samina's different lessons he really didn't have much time over at the end of the day, himself.

Not that he didn't like spending so much of his time with the bounty hunter. She was a very pleasantly uncomplicated and easygoing person, and being around her always seemed to lighten up the atmosphere a bit. For instance, she had seemed so much less affected than most by the perpetual dusk and the oppressive mood - the population of the Inner City consisted of almost equal parts humans and dwarves, most of which had apparently lived in the now-destroyed Trade City outside the Hold, and though the cavern all around them was so spacious that it hardly even reflected an echo, the feeling of being trapped inside was slowly increasing among the humans - But Samina was still smiling as brightly and laughing as loudly as ever.

That was why he had been so surprised at her confession just a few days ago, when he had finally had to ask her how she managed to stay so unaffected. At first, she had told him it was because she had dealt so much with dwarves before that she had simply gotten used to the �feeling� of being inside a Dwarf Hold for long periods of time, but then she had fallen silent and fiddled thoughtfully with her empty mug for a while before looking off to the side with a slightly weary expression.

"No, it gets me too," she had said. "But as long as I pretend that it doesn't, it kind of... doesn't. Do you know what I mean?"

Judeau had nodded. He knew well the useful power of self-suggestion. Then Samina had chuckled and turned back to face him.

"Actually, it's mostly thanks to you. The way you keep smiling helps me remember how to do it." She had smiled mischievously. "In fact, I thought you were the unaffected one."

They had both laughed at that and concluded that being good at faking smiles was something they apparently had in common.

Judeau opened his eyes again and gazed thoughtfully at the steady, light green glow of the disc-fungi, and how it reflected off of the resting and falling water. His eyes followed the trickling stream all the way down to the still pool, and he frowned slightly, thinking to his own surprise that the water reminded him of the scar-faced woman in some ways. Calmly reflecting any luminescence on its surface, but without showing much of what might be going on below.

And he knew that it was an unfair thought. She readily answered any question he threw at her, but the truth was that as long as she was calm and content, it was as though something prevented him from asking about her. When he actually did, she answered, but still he felt like he didn�t know much about her and did not, for some reason, want to ask anything too personal. As if he could feel that there was a limit to how much she was ready to share � and maybe that she regretted sharing what little she had, in the few moments that she had been upset and not thought too much about what she was saying.

Judeau leaned forward and felt a slightly wry smile twist its way onto his face. He had met his fair share of people and knew almost every type there was, and it really wasn�t that hard to figure Samina out. She was smart and knew her way around people, but contrary to popular belief, that didn�t make a person immune to being read - and in all honesty, she was a lot like himself: Manipulative, in that she could smile like she meant it in order to hide what she was really feeling, either to throw off any unwanted questions or to keep the mood of her companions up in a difficult situation.

But she was still only human, and no matter how good she got at manipulating and hiding her emotions and secrets, they glinted through sometimes. And Judeau was certain � he had seen it so very many times before � that the real reason she had revealed what little she had, accident or no, was because somewhere deep inside, she really, really wanted someone to see through her. To call her on her fake smiles and ask her the questions she thought she didn�t want to answer.

But he also knew that if he actually tried to do that, he would be making a terrible mistake. Better to wait and see if she was smart enough to realize that she wanted to share, and if he proved trustworthy enough for her to share it with � whatever it was.

In the meantime, he found himself lightening up more and more in her company. He had a feeling that he was being played - again, he had extensive experience with using charm to get people to trust him without necessarily sharing much of himself in return, so he could suspect when it was being done to him - but he really didn't mind. He liked Samina, genuinely liked her, and whether he was being "duped" into it or not, he was quite frankly too far from home and too dependant on her and the rest of the team to allow himself any suspicious-minded distancing.

'Sides, he was still the �new guy� around here.

Judeau stood up with a slightly strained breath and flexed his aching muscles � It was high time to head back to Gorgoz� inn, where he and Samina had rented rooms at a very reasonable price.

As he picked his way out of the luminescent fungi garden, Judeau absentmindedly rubbed his palms together. The left one kept itching.

*
The blond scout had barely had time to step into the hallway when Samina poked her head around the corner. Her face immediately changed from a worried frown into a relieved smile, and she quickly walked up to him.

"Hey," she said, while surreptitiously scrutinizing him. Judeau frowned at her in confusion.

"Hey...?"

Her gaze flicked to his face and her smile turned apologetic, with a hint of embarrassment. "You were gone so long I started to get a little worried. It's almost evening, you know. How are you feeling?"

Judeau's frown deepened as he walked with her into the common room.

"A bit sore, I suppose. Otherwise fine. Why?"

She hesitated for an instant as her smile gave way to seriousness, then she gave his sleeve a slight tug.

"Let's sit down."

She waved at Gorgoz to bring them some beer as she steered the scout towards their usual alcove, where she sat down with a small, thoughtful sigh. Judeau studied her frowning face in hopes of gleaning some kind of insight, but didn't find much. However, as soon as the black-bearded dwarf had placed two mugs of ale in front of them and returned to his business, the bounty hunter spoke up:

"There's something I've forgot to tell you. Probably not much to worry about but with the circumstances being what they are..." She trailed off with an indeterminable little shrug, and Judeau couldn't help but let out a short laugh.

"You know, saying something like that really doesn't help me not to worry." He leaned forward and softly lowered his voice. "What's going on, Samina?"

The bounty hunter tapped her fingers against the side of her mug for a moment, frowning in concentration, before she looked up again.

"Okay, it's like this: On the last night of each year, the darkest and the longest night, every sane person stays inside after sunset. We don't go out and we don't light any candles or fires. We stay together and most of us stay awake until dawn. This is called the Night of Oaths, and we do these things because as the night darkens, the barrier between this world and the next grow weaker. Unrestful spirits walk this world again, and some of them prey upon the living." She hesitated and fired off a lopsided smile at him. "As you well know. And warmth and light attract them, as do lonely targets. Also, you don't swear any oaths, because the boundary to the realm of the gods has also weakened and they just might hear you - and if they take your oath, you don't want to know what could happen to you if you would fail to fulfill it. Also, magic users usually keep from using magic, unless they really know what they're doing, because it can have unexpected consequences. Like a surprise visit from demons or the like. Or so I've heard. And," she finished, pointing at his hands on the table, "It seems you can already see what I'm getting at."

Judeau looked down and found himself rubbing his branded left palm again, and frowned. Now that he thought about it, he noticed just how persistently the damned thing was itching - and that it had done so for quite a while. He looked up at Samina again and her eyes widened as they met his.

"You... feel something, don't you?" she asked in a low voice. He nodded, and the bounty hunter's face hardened decisively. Her hand closed around his - hiding the hated burn mark from his view, if not his sense.

"Come on."

He let her drag him out of the tavern and off through the Inner City without any comments. After a moment she suddenly released his hand, as if she only then realized that she had been holding it, but without missing a step. He hurried up a little until he was alongside her and decided to ask after all:

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," she replied. "We're almost there already."

He shrugged and followed her, frowning at himself in annoyance when he noticed that he was still rubbing his palms together. With a frustrated huff, he forced his hands to stay at his sides and determinedly ignored the stubborn itch. They turned a few more corners, crossed a small plaza, and suddenly they stood in front of a building Judeau easily recognized. He sent Samina a confused frown.

"The Shrine of Vontar?"

She gave him a small smile back and nodded, before opening the door and stepping inside.

"Come on, Judeau."

The blond scout shrugged and followed her, and the moment he stepped inside of the small, lavishly decorated church he felt the itch in his hand fade away and die out. He briefly looked around at the metallic sculptures and carved stone decorations all around, surreptitiously rubbing his hand against his pant leg to get rid of the last, lingering irritation.

"Okay. Now what?"

"We wait," Samina answered simply.

Only a moment later, a small door beside the altar in the other end of the rather well-organized but still cluttered-up room opened, and a sternly frowning dwarf head poked out. Its dull red beard was streaked with grey and cut short, though slightly longer on each side of the square jaw, and its furrowed, reddish-grey eyebrows were unusually bushy even for a dwarf and pointed upwards at the ends almost as though they had been carefully styled to do so.

The dwarf priest (the cut of his beard was a dead giveaway, even if they hadn't been in a Vontar church) made a hoarse, demanding grunt and stepped out to focus his bushy-browed stare more directly at the two of them.

"Well?" he said, and his voice really turned out to be as gravelly and hoarse as the inarticulate grunt had suggested. Judeau found himself wondering if the dwarf had wounded his throat at some point, and it hadn't healed properly. The priest sternly crossed his arms over his red-clothed chest. "Which one of you carries evil magic into this holy place?"

Samina calmly met the iron-hard glare and pointed at Judeau.

"That'd be him. Show him, Judeau."

With a quick frown at the scar-faced woman, the scout did as he was told. The dwarf priest quickly strode up to them and grabbed Judeau's hand, raising his bushy eyebrows in surprise.

"Ho! This is... unusual."

He studied the burn mark for a while longer, making small, gargling sounds of concentration to himself. Then he released Judeau and met the scout's eyes with a piercing, contemplative, copper-colored gaze.

"That's a very serious curse you have there, manling. I can only bless you and temporarily take the effect away, but there's nothing I can do to dispel it. Nor anyone else, I believe."

"I know," he said, but was interrupted by Samina:

"We were wondering if it'll cause trouble tonight, considering it attracts demons and the undead."

The priest's eyes flicked from the bounty-hunter back to Judeau, and the blond scout nodded in confirmation. The dwarf's impressive eyebrows pulled down into another deep frown and he gave a drawn-out hum that was so deep and hoarse it was barely a human noise.

"I knew it was a beacon spell," he mumbled, "But if it's like that... Hmm. You'd better come with me, manling."

He turned and walked back through the small church towards the door he had stepped out of, and Judeau and Samina obediently followed. As they reached the door, however, the priest turned around and raised one eyebrow at the bounty-hunter.

"And you can stay here," he said, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. Samina doggedly stepped back and sat down on an intricately decorated chest that stood against the wall. The priest gave her a curt nod and led Judeau into the back room, closing the door behind them.

This room was a lot less decorated than the prayer room. It was lined with dwarf-sized benches, had one door on each wall and a complicated brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and that was it. The priest wasted no time in this 'waiting room,' but continued straight on through the door to the left.

As Judeau entered the new room, he immediately recognized the large, circular symbol on the floor: It was exactly the same as the one that Thirgynn had drawn up in the dirt around him in order to work his - no, her - divination spell. The only difference being that this one was crafted in what appeared to be real gold and silver, permanently inlaid in the tiled marble floor.

"Sit," the priest commanded, pointing at the center of the circular design.

"Isn't this a magic symbol?" Judeau curiously asked as he sat down. "I thought you were a priest?"

The grizzled dwarf looked up and sent him a withering glare. "I am a priest. What do you think magic really is, manling?"

Judeau frowned inwardly and shrugged. He had to admit that he hadn't given that notion much thought. The priest went about arranging strange contraptions around the symbol on the floor, muttering hoarse chants under his breath. Judeau was pleasantly surprised when the bushy-browed dwarf kept talking between passes:

"Dwarf magic is the divine spark. Not like you surface-dwellers and that humbug tinkering with the elements that you call magic. Dwarf magic is a gift from Vontar, a faint reflection of the power he used when he created and forged the world."

Judeau leaned his head in his un-branded hand and smiled slightly to himself. Now he understood why Thirgynn was called a 'miracle-worker.'

"So what's the difference?" he asked, since the priest didn't seem too averse to conversation. Not more than any other dwarf, at least. "Between miracle-workers and priests, I mean."

His reply was another bushy-browed frown. "Miracle-workers aren't priests."

Judeau nodded silently and heaved a small sigh. Of course.

The priest put the final nudge to something that most looked like a thick, giant glass disc in a metal frame and sat down in front of Judeau, closing his eyes in concentration. The scout felt his body begin to tingle faintly as the magic did whatever it was that it did to him, and after a while the tingle ceased and the priest's copper eyes opened again, to fix on Judeau's.

"Mmrrm." The scout wasn't sure whether the dwarf had just cleared his throat or tried to grunt affirmatively, but the deep, hoarse rumble carried on into words: "It is a very, very potent curse indeed, manling, but not potent enough to counteract all eight of the Great Runes. You may feel some disturbance - pain or itching or some such - but you are not in any danger as long as you stay inside the Hold. And where else would you go, heh? But I'm going to put a blessing on you, just to be thorough. I don't know how long it will last or how effective it will be since you are human, but I'm sure it will help in some small way."

Judeau nodded his thanks. "Can I get up or should I stay?"

The priest shook his head and motioned at him. "C'mere."

The scout gave him his branded hand and the red-bearded dwarf unceremoniously took it, drew a triangle around the burn mark with the tip of his finger while muttering something in dwarfish, and then covered Judeau's hand with both of his - it completely disappeared between the dwarf's meaty paws - and chanted quietly for a brief moment. Judeau felt a strange sensation build in his hand: it was like the heat from a forge and the icy chill of a mountain stream at the same time, and it shot up through his arm so suddenly that he almost jerked back.

The priest released him and nodded with satisfaction. "Vontar hazt," he said, patting Judeau's arm. "The hand of Vontar is in everything, and everything is in the hand of Vontar."

Judeau flexed his fingers and stared down at the palm of his hand. The brand was gone without a trace, just as it had been during his time with the Healer, but this time he knew it was just an illusion. However, it was a very satisfying illusion and he found himself smiling as he flexed his fingers again. In fact, he felt great. His earlier weariness had all but evaporated and he felt strong, tough� unshakeable.

He slapped a hand down on the priest�s broad shoulder and grinned.

�Thanks a lot! What do I owe you for this?�

�Well, if you�re a craftsman, you can donate something you�re proud of to the shrine� otherwise we do take money donations as well. Ten Ducarri or Vagorian silvers should be about enough. Or a Kumaraghian Sevenstar.�

The scout nodded and gladly produced the ten Ducarri Silver Thrones � he would have had no problem with adding on a little extra considering how content he felt but something held him back, and the priest smiled for the first time in something remarkably close to approval.

�Alright, manling. I�m done with you. Off you go.�

As he walked out into the prayer room where he had left Samina, the scar-faced woman shot him a slightly strange look before politely returning his smile.

�How did it go?�

He grinned wordlessly and showed her his palm. She brightened noticeably but when she looked up at him again, she still looked a little uncertain. He endured her quiet scrutiny for a moment before he finally had to ask.

�What?�

�You look� different. What did he do, really?�

�Different?�

�Yeah. Hm. Can�t put my finger on it, but if I had to guess, I�d say �more dwarf-like.� Yeah. Your eyes are a little bit� harder. I think.�

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned in a conscious imitation of Taskkarr.

�Hmpf. You say that like it�s a bad thing!�

That made her burst out in one of her hearty, full-throated laughs, and Judeau couldn�t help but be pulled along. After a moment, she took a deep breath and pretended to wipe the tears from her eyes as she patted him on the shoulder.

�That would have been a lot creepier if you hadn�t been smiling at the same time, blondie.�

They walked back to Gorgoz' tavern, laughing all the way. Judeau decided that he really liked the sound of Samina�s laugh � it didn�t make excuses for itself, a sound that burst forth in nothing but genuine happiness and good humor, as startlingly sudden as it was heartfelt. Deeper and a bit throatier than her usual voice, it was easy on the ears despite its intensity. Samina and Caska had a lot in common, but Judeau had never heard the dark-skinned woman laugh like this, and he found himself wishing that he had � in retrospect, it felt so sad that he�d only ever heard her giggle, as if she couldn�t or never let herself feel happy or secure enough to let loose with a good, full-blown laugh.

That thought dampened his mood a little bit as the two of them sat down in their alcove with two new ales before them, but he didn�t let it show - which, by the way, was unusually easy to do tonight.

He still missed the Hawks something fierce when he allowed himself to think about them - or when the memories and the uncertainty snuck up on him if he relaxed too much - but there was no reason to dwell on it. There was nothing he could do to alleviate his own anxiety and find out about their fate, and in some ways maybe that was for the better. Truth be told, he wasn't at all sure of how he would react if he found out that they were all really gone.

But one thing at a time - for now, his main concern was to somehow get this curse permanently removed, and after that... After that, maybe he could start focusing on getting back to his own world, and only then could he start thinking about finding out the fates of his old friends. One thing at a time.

The tavern had filled up a bit during the brief time they had been away and more people came as the evening wore on, gathering in the company room to slowly form the largest crowd that Judeau had seen in one place since he entered the Hold. Most of them were humans of different nationalities (though predominantly fair-skinned) and a few were dwarves who all loudly hailed Gorgoz and his equally raven-haired mate as they entered the tavern.

Zhorikk was the most female-looking dwarf Judeau had seen in the Hold, but mostly because she had certain noticeably 'female shapes' beneath her tunic. Apparently this for a dwarf very unusually shaped chest area, as well as all the noisy attention bestowed upon her and her mate, was all because she was pregnant with their first child - a big deal in dwarven society. Once she had carried it to term, she would have earned herself the honorary prefix "Von," literally meaning "Mother," to add onto her name, and her family would have gained a slight alleviation in societal standing. Something the two proudly grinning tavern hosts were very well aware of, and if Judeau was any good at guessing - and he was - then the obviously good health of the expectant mother was the main topic of conversation among the dwarven crowd.

At first, while people were still arriving and Judeau and Samina amused themselves by letting him guess the nationalities of the various guests, the mood was rather high and the noise levels as expected in a tavern full of people, but as the hours passed a more somber air quietly snuck up on the crowd. Voices lowered, smiles grew scarcer and more subdued, conversations more serious. Even the few children that some people had brought along fell into a hushed, if a bit sporadic, silence that could not only be attributed to sleepiness.

After a drawn-out lull in their own conversation, Samina absent-mindedly picked up a small leather pouch from one of her hidden pockets and fiddled a little with it when she began speaking again:

"It's begun now. The sun is traveling beneath the sea, and Bigmoon rests on the Sage's staff while Smallmoon approaches. Midnight is coming." She studied the little pouch in her hands and heaved a sigh. A little confounded by this sudden poeticism, Judeau frowned.

"...Samina?"

She looked up as if startled and almost immediately had a self-conscious smile on her face.

"Geez, Judeau, I'm sorry. I just tend to get a little emotional around times like these... and I'm also a long way from home. But," she added with shrug and a meaningful gaze around the room, "So are most of the people in here, I guess."

He followed her lead and let his eyes travel from face to face, noting how many of them were bowed down and how almost every one had a touch of sadness to it. The few conversations that were still carrying on had become reverently silent and seemed restricted to very sober subjects. A few people had closed their eyes and put their hands together as if in prayer, and Judeau thought about what Samina had said as if in passing earlier in the evening: "This is a night for remembering, both the dead and those still living. And for praying, if you wish. After all, the gods might be listening."

Judeau studied each face in turn, wondering what they were remembering, or praying for. Even the dwarves had fallen silent and as Gorgoz and Zhorikk quietly went about putting out all the lights in the room their angular, bearded faces seemed to gain in harshness. Were they thinking about the comrades lost in battle to the dark elves and their demons and trolls? And the dark, Kushan-like humans in the alcove over by the dying embers of the fireplace, were they praying for faraway family members that they may or may not ever see again? His eyes traveled back to his companion, who seemed to have once again forgotten about him and was gazing with a kind of wistful sadness down at the pouch in her hand, mouthing silent, indiscernible words to herself. Who was she remembering? Someone dead? Living? To who were those tenderly whispered words intended, and what meaning did they hold? She was such an integral part of his new life, and he knew so very little about her...

He leaned forward, quietly calling her name with the intention of asking her just where 'home' was, when suddenly the sound of the door opening and closing sent the whole room into a tense silence. All eyes turned towards the dark hallway, some of which expressed a fear so vivid that one could think they expected a vengeful ghost to step out of the shadows.

They were almost correct. Nevertheless, a wave of relief swept through the room, along with a few embarrassed smiles, as Steelwing�s regal shape stepped through the doorway, his dilated pupils glowing faintly green in the darkness as he surveyed the company. Spotting Judeau and Samina, the tall elf silently strode over to them and sat down next to the bounty hunter.

�Steelwing,� she whispered, her surprised smile audible. �You came.�

�You wished me to, did you not?� His hushed, velvety voice was as unfeeling as always, but Judeau heard Samina�s smile widen with a small puff of breath in reply.

�Thank you,� she said, simply, and Steelwing said nothing more.

For some reason, the scout felt his heart sink in his chest. All around him, people were remembering, supporting each other in the face of loss or sending their thoughts to loved ones that would surely be thinking of them in return. Even Samina and Steelwing had each other in this darkness, and at least the bounty hunter seemed to have someone on the outside of this fortress to send her heart and well-wishes out to � but who would support him, if he were to give in to this reverent remembrance that so permeated the atmosphere? Who would understand the nature of his grief? The nightmares that had been haunting him? And how could he possibly explain any of it to anyone, beyond what little that he had already told them?

He sat perfectly still in the darkness of the alcove and watched as Samina and Steelwing exchanged silent looks of friendship and support, and for the first time in many, many years he felt truly alone.

It was a horrible sensation. His stomach sank away until there was nothing left in his abdomen but a dull ache, his throat tightened into a painfully hard knot that almost wouldn�t let him breathe, and a terrible cold swept through his chest with such force it made his wrists tingle. His eyes felt dry and he tried to blink rapidly a few times but it didn�t help. He had never cried in the company of others since the day he had decided to become a mercenary and joined Griffith, but he was closer to doing so than he could ever remember being before.

It was one of the worst moments of his life, but it was not over yet. The pain just kept growing in intensity, shooting lances of fire up through his frozen chest and out into his arms, pulsating in his fingertips. It reached a point where he could no longer accept that this overwhelming pain was only emotional in nature, and for a brief moment he feared he might be having a heart attack or something equally unexpected and lethal.

Teetering dangerously close to the brink of panic he tried to alert his two teammates to his condition, but the only sounds to escape his lips and tightly clenched throat were a few guttural chokes � he couldn�t even move from his spot. To his relief, both of them immediately turned to him and he heard Samina�s worried voice as if from a long distance:

�Judeau? Are you okay?�

He was just gathering his strength to give verbal communication one more try when suddenly all the pain exploded out into his left arm, and he dimly felt himself begin to fall sideways out of the alcove. Then another impression superimposed itself onto the pain and vertigo, and that was one of being utterly, horribly exposed.

He felt dozens, maybe hundreds of cruel eyes turn towards him and could sense their malevolence and ravenous hunger as their gazes raked over him like claws. Many very close, others much further away, but all intently watching him, reaching for him. Someone screamed and he didn�t know who it was, but it kind of sounded like himself. The world closed in around him, rushing towards him with breakneck speed, and he flailed wildly to stop the horrible eyes from getting to him. His arms impacted on something that felt very far away and only barely real, but did nothing to stop the stampeding world.

As everything blasted past him he started to feel that maybe the hundreds of evil, hungry eyes wasn�t the worst thing that could reach him here. Maybe something far more terrible waited at the end of this nightmare road. Something dark and cold and awfully familiar. He heard voices echo through the thundering void all around, voices he knew he should recognize, but he couldn�t hear what they were saying. It sounded like some kind of warning, telling him to turn back, to stop, and he desperately wished he could heed it.

Then, abruptly, the speeding universe stopped and he found himself in darkness. Shades that he thought he should recognize hovered just at the very edge of his perception, and right before him, right in the middle of this oppressive, haunted darkness, two lights burned brightly. Those who survived. And somewhere, just above his head, something dark and cold and awfully familiar began turning its icy, sapphire blue eyes towards him. He jerked back with a hoarse shriek as he felt strong hands close around his wrists and pin him against a cold, hard surface and the next moment everything snapped around.

The darkness had instantly changed into something much more bearable and the shapes that moved through it were much more solid. The two lights were now small, greenish glowing circles that hung harmlessly in the air above him. The cold surface against his back was still cold and hard, but not threateningly so, and the hands that held him pinned down were relentless but not harmful. And the best part of it all was that all the hungry, malevolent eyes were gone, completely gone. He relaxed with an exhausted sigh and barely reacted to all the nonsensical noise around him.

When the darkness suddenly transformed into colors and light, he looked up again � but it felt so strange, like his eyes didn�t quite follow the path he wished them to take. There were people all around him, most of which were very hairy, and it seemed like they were all shouting at him. He couldn�t understand the words though he knew that he should, so he tried to smile disarmingly at the biggest one of them, the one with the long, pointy ears and no beard who was pinning him down, but he wasn�t sure that his face muscles were doing what he told them to do.

�Judeau! Judeau! What happened?�

�I do not think he can hear you, though it does seem like he has calmed down.�

�What are you longlings wasting time for? Get him to the priests, now!�

It did not make any sense. He couldn�t understand a single syllable. But he felt himself hoisted up into the air and carried away through flickering darkness, and he assumed it was for the best. After all, there were still no evil eyes bearing down on him. A dark-haired woman with fair skin and a big scar across her face walked beside him as he floated on through the air, comfortably leaning against something firm and warm. The woman kept trying to talk softly to him and he didn�t understand her, but the soothing sound of her hushed voice was nice to listen to, so he tried to smile again.

Her eyes held so much fear. He wished he knew who she was.

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