A line in the stand

Esmiralda and her companions, the Optimist Monk Broo Fang Tane and the odd, loutish warrior Seymurh, have paused to rest in a tavern outside of Veral Ski, one of the largest cities in all of Korin. Here they wash the blood, gore and dirt of their recent adventure from their bodies but Mira finds the memory of their lost comrade Merrick is as restless as the living dead that claimed his life. In a dream, he hints at a new quest that Esimralda must undertake...


The street was already teeming with unwashed peasantry making their way to the stout gates of the great city. I fell in line behind a lean, crooked man dressed in rags who carried a bundle of pelts over his right shoulder and tried not to look at the vacant eye sockets of the hapless creatures. Seymuhr stood beside me, picking at his teeth. Carriages rolled by, unhindered at the gate, while we stood and slowly shuffled toward Veral Ski's impregnable walls.

"You could hide a small army in those carriages and deliver them to the queen's privy," I grumbled, impatient. "Yet we must wait, the insignificant masses, to be poked and prodded for the amusement of these so-called guards."

"I could stop one of those coaches," Seymuhr said. He wore one of his maces on each hip and he fingered one of them.

"You'd only cause a scene," I told him. "I'm merely voicing my displeasure."

"That's how they rule over you," he said. "They expect the complaints, but not the action. As long as these 'insignificant masses' you refer only voice their complaints to each other they are content to do as they please."

"Oh ho! Look at you! When did you become a social critic, so knowledgeable with the workings of the upper class?" I lowered my voice. "Let's just wait. We are nearly there."

"You pick up things when you travel," he said. "That, and things are the same everywhere. they always have been."

I had to nod. "True. These are trying times. Is this wisdom imparted to you from your parents?"

"I never knew them." He responded.

"Oh." I fell silent. I remembered, then, something that Merrick had told me shortly after I fell into his troupe: that Seymuhr claimed to have been abandoned by a river and raised by fish. Surely, that was impossible, a farce he told to deflect from his true heritage. Wasn't it? I studied him again from the corner of my eye: he was shorter than I--and I was not a tall woman--but broad and thick with muscle. I knew him to be fearsomely strong and ferocious in battle. He fought with a mace in each hand, not with any apparent skill, but with a strength and energy that battered and maimed any opponent we had come across. He was bald and loutish, with a thick nose and low eyebrows, but a sometimes disarming smile. "Well, it is true, nonetheless."

We moved forward, slowly, as the sun climbed into the sky. Soon the shadow of the Great Gate overtook us and we stood ready to enter the city.

If I can market there, I can market anywhere

Esmiralda and her companions, the Optimist Monk Broo Fang Tane and the odd, loutish warrior Seymurh, have paused to rest in a tavern outside of Veral Ski, one of the largest cities in all of Korin. Here they wash the blood, gore and dirt of their recent adventure from their bodies but Mira finds the memory of their lost comrade Merrick is as restless as the living dead that claimed his life. In a dream, he hints at a new quest that Esimralda must undertake...

"By the way, where is Broo Fang Tane?"

Seymuhr shrugged his thick shoulders and cracked his neck. "He said something about going to the market."

"The market? Alone? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"He seemed to be in a good enough mood."

"That doesn't necessarily guarantee anyone's safety." His mood was just what I worried about. Tane was an Optimist, one of the champions of good news and a positive outlook, dedicated to his cause--and that was a dangerous thing in Korin, particularly during times as troubled as we lived in. Optimist Monks were fierce fighters, trained by masters of power and grace, for their message was often so ill-received that it required immediate self-defense. Sometimes, trying to spread a smile was enough to start a fight in Korin. Telling someone to cheer up or that things weren't as bad as they seemed...depending on your audience, those simple, kind sentiments could spark a blood feud.

Moreover, Tane's normally quiet presence attracted teasers, ne'er-do-wells and pranksters of all sorts. Bullies flocked to the little man like hornets to a picnic. His journey toward inner and outer peace met setbacks anytime he ventured into public or, indeed, was noticed. In the short time I had known him, I watched him try to contain his short temper on many occasions, only to erupt into shocking, violent action when provoked too far.

"True," Seymuhr said. He glanced down at my plate, where I had pushed aside the spider leg. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Not on your life." I pushed the plate toward him. He snatched up the spider leg and bit through it, sending a small river of grayish ooze over his lips. "They didn't even cook it!" He was genuinely excited.

I turned away. "We should go after him." I wanted to go into Veral Ski anyway and hopefully purchase some better clothes before I met with the queen and shared the news of Merrick's death. Going to the market without Tane also gave me the option to pretend that I didn't know him, if his temper flared up. "I don't want him to hurt anyone--or worse."

"There are too many people in the land, anyway," Semuhr said with a belch. He scratched his groin and lifted his cheek. "Nobody will miss ten or twelve."

"I suppose that depends on who they are," I growled, waving a hand in front of my nose.

"Besides, you should give him more credit. We can always hope that nobody bothers him, or that his mind and soul remain at peace."

I grunted. "You know what they say about hope, don't you?"

"No. I don't."

"Neither do I." I tossed two coins on the table, waved to Mallyn, and headed for the street.

The morning after

Esmiralda and her companions, the Optimist Monk Broo Fang Tane and the odd, loutish warrior Seymurh, have paused to rest in a tavern outside of Veral Ski, one of the largest cities in all of Korin. Here they wash the blood, gore and dirt of their recent adventure from their bodies but Mira finds the memory of their lost comrade Merrick is as restless as the living dead that claimed his life. In a dream, he hints at a new quest that Esimralda must undertake...

I basked in the warm rays of the sun and ignored any impulse to leave the bed and find my companions. My dream still troubled me and I rolled the images around in my mind, poking at it from every angle, equally afraid that it would fade or come true. Find him, the dream Merrick had implored me. Find who?

Eventually, I pushed aside the scratchy blanket and rolled to the side, placing my feet reluctantly on the coarse floor and stretched, my hands clasped over my head. My hair had grown into a tangle overnight; my fingers snagged as I brushed them through it. the ache of the road and the recent fight still tightened my muscles and I sat for a some long time listening to the sounds from the tavern room below or the slow parade of people guiding their wagons to the market in Veral Ski. I pulled on my boots, arranged my skirt and blouse and navigated the stairs like one of the undead minions we had so recently sent back to the ground.

Seymuhr and Mallyn sat together, their heads close. She had a smile on her face and a hand buried in her mop of reddish hair. Seymuhr leaned back, fingers entwined over a slightly swollen belly, tapping his thumbs together. Broo Fang Tane was nowhere to be seen. I sat down heavily beside the girl and gave her a weary nod.

"Good morning to you," she said, getting up.

I grunted.

"I've seen that look before. I'm on my way," Mallyn chuckled.

Seymuhr looked me up and down. If he felt as sore or tried as I did, he showed no sign. "Trouble sleeping?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You look like you slept in a barrel."

"Well, thank you for that." I ran my fingers through my hair again, then patted it down. "I thought you meant something else."

"I didn't."

"Obviously," I snapped. Mallyn was on her way back, a steaming cup of liquid in her hand. "Was your sleep...untroubled?"

"Like a hound by a fire," he said cheerfully.

"Hmmm." Perhaps his mind was too dull to dream. I thanked Mallyn for the brew and asked her what the tavern served for the morning meal.

She brightened up immediately. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of it! We call it Traveler's Temptation."

"Sounds...tempting," I said, unable to come up with a better word. The liquid she served was slowly peeling away the fog in my brain. "What's in it?"

"We take three eggs, mix 'em up with some special spices--we're not supposed to talk about those--cook them up and fold them over some chopped spider that's so fresh it twitches when you bite into it." She beamed at me. "Would you like that?"

"Can I get it without the chopped spider?"

Her face fell. "Why in Korin would you want to do that? That's the best part!"

I patted my stomach and shook my head. "I'm sure it is. It's just that we've just come in from a long expedition in the wilderness with nothing much else to eat. I'm afraid I've had my fill of spider."

"Wha...? She said she's had her fill of spider!" Mallyn called out to the room.

Silence followed, and then the creaking of benches as the few people left in the main room turned to look at us. I felt their eyes run over me, floor to hair and back again."

"Looks like she's had her fill of something," someone muttered and Seymuhr chuckled.

"Please," I said to Mallyn after shooting Seymuhr an irritated glare. "I don't wish to cause a scene or offend your cook. Can you just ask?"

She sniffed. "I will. But it's a bit weird." Her short skirt snapped around her hips as she whirled away. Seymuhr watched in appreciation.

"You have a gift for making friends," Seymuhr said.

"I just don't understand it. Just because spiders are everywhere doesn't mean we have to eat them with everything."

Seymuhr adopted a grave expression. He nodded slowly. "You're right. They're like people that way."

I didn't respond right away, but just looked at him, blinking. Then  gave up. "I. I...guess so. Look don't mind my foul mood. I had some unsettling dreams last night." I recounted the entire thing to him, right down to Merrick's urgent request. "Did anything trouble your sleep?"

Seymuhr shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Women. Always overthinking things."

"What do you mean? What have I done now?"

"Chances are, it was just a dream," he started, but then his eyes grew wide and he leaned in, his raspy voice little more than a whisper. "You know, you're right. It probably was a sign, a message of great import."

"Do you think so?" I glanced around the room. Seymuhr's sudden conspiratorial tone made me think that others were listening in. It didn't look like it.

"Of course! It was from your bladder. Those messages are always the most urgent. This 'him' Merrick spoke of probably had the chamber pot. Tell me, Mira, did you find him in time?" He leaned back and laughed like a donkey, obviously pleased with himself. I just pressed my lips together and kept my response to myself.

Then Mallyn appeared a plate of steaming eggs in her hand. She looked fondly down at Seymuhr, then placed the plate in front of me with a suspicious look on her face. "He said he did the best he could."

Sure enough, the Traveler's Temptation was nearly spider-free. I folded back the top layer of egg to find a single long, hairy spider leg placed conspicuously in the middle of an otherwise light and fluffy fare. I ate around it.

The Dark Dream

Esmiralda and her companions, the Optimist Monk Broo Fang Tane and the odd, loutish warrior Seymurh, have paused to rest in a tavern outside of Veral Ski, one of the largest cities in all of Korin. Here they wash the blood, gore and dirt of their recent adventure from their bodies but Mira finds the memory of their lost comrade Merrick is as restless as the living dead that claimed his life...


The cold stench of the cavern returned to me, clogging my nostrils and prickling the skin on the back of my neck. I felt cold, wet and small. Everything was silent and I was alone in the dark--a dark so complete that I could have poked my eye before I saw my finger.

I stood, filled with the certainty that the smallest move in any direction would send me tumbling into a deep pit and I would fall and fall and fall until my body was dashed open at the bottom. I strained both eyes and ears, listening for something that would guide me to some form of safety. At first I could not tell if my eyes were open or closed and the only thing I heard--or, perhaps I only felt--was the beating of my heart, steady and strong.

Gradually I heard something, so faint at first that I thought it was a trick of my own mind: a whisper, long and low and hoarse with pain. It was my name. I licked my lips and leaned forward, trying to catch a firmer grasp of the sound and slowly, painfully slowly, inched forward my right foot to test the surface ahead. It was solid. There was no pit--at least not directly in front of me.

Whimpering and hating myself for the sound of weakness, I moved in that direction. I slid my foot forward and only rested my weight on it when I felt solid ground. Tears leaked from my eyes and I couldn't stop shaking. I could not tell how far I moved, or how long it took me. I only know that my knees were weak and my whole body shaking before I saw the faintest glimmer of light ahead.

I fought the urge to run toward it. the cavern floor was still pocked and treacherous covered with protruding rocks or damp dimples that would surely turn an ankle or worse if I let my concentration lapse. The whisper grew louder, more urgent and more pained. I felt things moving in the air around me, imagined shadows flitted in the scant gloom at the corners of my vision and I clamped my mouth shut to keep from crying out in fear.

Where were my companions? Why was I alone? Sweat formed in my hand and made my knife slippery.

Slowly, I began to see more clearly and I felt confident enough to move a bit faster. I wiped my hand on my trousers and looked around me, hoping to see the shape of either Seymuhr, Tane or Merrick. Perhaps they were that close, and laboring in silence beside me.

They were not. I was still alone. I rounded a corner and saw why: Tane and Seymuhr were dead, their insides dripping and hanging from iron manacles attached to the damp walls of the cavern. Their eyes had been eaten out and their lips were gone; their teeth showed, crooked and yellow. Merrick was on the floor beneath them, a grievous wound at his center. He reached toward me, groaning my name.

I rushed forward, my stomach lurching, looking wildly about me as I bent down toward him.

"Don't talk," I urged him. "I will set you free; let us escape this place."

"I am free," he wheezed. "You...you are bound. You must help. Find him! Find him soon!"

"Find who?" I felt something moving in the shadows behind me, a cold air preceded it. It curled around my neck and dripped down my spine. "Bound to what?"

He pressed something cold into my hand. "Bound to him," he gasped. "You are bound to all."

The presence was right behind me, so large and terrible and cold that it left like my bones had turned to ice and my blood boiled to my skin. I looked up into a darkness so black it hurt my eyes and saw dancing red globes--eyes filled with a malevolent mirth. They grew closer and the cold started to surround me...

I woke with a start, covered in sweat, panting alone in my room. My fingers were clumsy as I reached toward my knife. My left hand ached and blood dribbled from my clenched fist. I slowly pried my fingers open and saw the symbol of the Ministry of Human Preservation; in my sleep I had clenched it so tightly that it bit into my skin.

I sat back against the wall, holding the knife in one hand while staring at the wound on the other. Merrick's dream words floated back. Bound, I thought. The meaning was obvious. But who was...him? Or was it just a dream, after all? The answers were as elusive as sleep.

Zombie stew

Esmiralda and her companions, the Optimist Monk Broo Fang Tane and Seymuhr Skullsquasher were enjoying a brief respite outside the walls of Veral Ski, the largest city in the land of Korrin. Soon, they must visit with the queen and tell her of the demise of their colleague.

Later, much later, I staggered up the stairs to the room that awaited me. Broo Fang Tane had already retired for the evening, but Seymuhr was still down in the main room, alternately singing in his hoarse voice and belching bubbles of ale. I paused, leaning against the doorway, for a moment tried to determine which was which--and which elicited more cheers from the sparse crowd. Soon, he would start in with his battle poems and that, more than my own exhaustion, drove me up the stairs to seek solace.

The room was small, but tidy. There was a solid-looking bed on the far wall and a chair at its foot. A small alcove held a large caldron of water over some dim coals. There was a tub beside it resting evenly on water-marked boards. I lit the lantern that hung on a hook by the door. Then I collapsed in the chair, my head spinning from the ale, and looked at the bed and then the tub, and then back again. I was woefully tired, but didn't think I'd be able to rest with my own stench in my nostrils. The tub it was, then.

The coals were dying, but the water was still lukewarm--warm enough to feel like a soft, heated blanket as I slipped my body into it. I laid back and let the water soak into and lift the grime from the forest and the road and the fight with the Hunen and the undead horde from my skin, then set about scrubbing my hide and hair. The water was gray and scummy by the time I had finished, a sort of stew made of grime and dead flesh, but still I dipped my clothes into it to rinse them as much as I could. They still smelled like a grave-filled swamp, but I felt a little cleaner and I no longer disgusted myself.

"A proper bath can change your outlook on the world," I muttered, although there was no one else to hear.

I laid down naked on the bed. Tomorrow there would be plenty to do, decisions to make and problems to solve. I could scarcely think of the first before sleep claimed me.

A low and mighty sound

Esmiralda and her companions, the Optimist Monk Broo Fang Tane and Seymuhr Skullsquasher were enjoying a brief respite outside the walls of Veral Ski, the largest city in the land of Korrin. Soon, they must visit with the queen and tell her of the demise of their colleague.

Seymuhr woke with a start and an embarrassed expression on his face. After a moment's confusion, he dove into the scraps of food in front of him, slurping up the remainder of his spiderfat soup, crunching up what was left of his spider flank steak. then he turned his attention to the few spider legs he hadn't ingested before, biting off the ends and sucking the ichor from their crunchy shells.

I found his dining habits to be truly disgusting. When he finally had picked clean every carapace and soaked up every drop of spider goo, popped and chewed all the eyes, he brushed all the plates and bowls and platters to the floor with a single swipe of his thick arm and then, cradling his distended belly with both his hands, let out a belch so mighty, damp and rank that the pure volume of it stopped passersby in the street.

Mallyn, her nose hidden in the crook of her elbow, nevertheless let out a long, braying laugh as she refilled the flagons on a table where two farmers sat. One of them whistled appreciatively.

"If I could belch like that, I never would have left home," Mallyn called with a snorting laugh. She disappeared into the kitchen with a swirl of her skirts.

I didn't know what that meant and I was too busy furiously waving my hand in front of my face to ask her. I scowled at Seymuhr, who patted his belly and then lifted his cheek to tilt to the left.

"If you wanted to attract attention, you've done so," I snapped. "If you wanted to make me ill, you've done that as well! What manner of man makes a noise like that? Or a smell?"

He shrugged. "Not a hungry one." He flashed a smile that he probably thought was charming. "The wench seemed to like it."

"It didn't get her wet."

"You get....used to I..........t," Broo Fang Tane, his head still bowed, added.

"I hope not." I poked at my empty bowl, then set my spoon aside. The tavern was beginning to clear out, and I felt myself relax. Outside, night had fallen and the road was growing quiet. Mallyn dropped off three more flagons of beer, but only managed a quick smile. She blew an errant hair away from her face.

I took a long, slow drink and thought back on all that had happened to me--to us--within the past fortnight. I saw Merrick again gasping and fighting for breath, his face red and his eyes wild as his life left him. I smelled the gore of that horrid cavern in the mountains and I remembered his final words as his soul left him.

Tomorrow, I would see the queen and try to articulate all of that to her. What would she require of me, an old, sad woman? I couldn't even imagine writing the Tale of Merrick's End. And what would I do after that?

"What will you do now?" I asked Seymuhr. He had already finished his beer, somehow, and was holding the empty cup above his open mouth in hopes that another drop would somehow spill out. He jerked it, twice and Mallyn took note.

"Now?"
"Now that our companion has perished," I said. "Will you continue your work for the MOHPs*?"

Seymuhr shrugged. Tane looked up, and nodded.

"Haven't thought much about it," Seymuhr said. His eyes were distant.

"You must have some kind of ambition," I pressed him. My hair fell in front of my eyes and I brushed it aside. "Some land to travel to? A cause to fight for? A...woman?" I hesitated, perplexed at the sudden hitch in my voice. Why would that thought bother me so? I certainly had no designs on this brute...

"Well, I always did want to knock someone's teeth out through their arse," he said, his face brightening and, just like that, the bothersome feeling was gone.

I sat back and crossed my arms over my breasts. "Your mother would be proud."

"Do you really think so?" He leaned in, an eager expression on his face, and I shook my head--but I felt the beginning of a smile all the same. I still had plenty of ale, but I knew I would need even more.

A talent for slaughter

Esmiralda and her companions, the Optimist Monk Broo Fang Tane and Seymuhr Skullsquasher were enjoying a brief respite outside the walls of Veral Ski, the largest city in the land of Korrin. Soon, they must visit with the queen and tell her of the demise of their colleague.

Mallyn bent down, bucket and sponge in hand, and started to sop up the blood.

"We really should just paint the floors red," she called to us. With a snorting chuckle she added, softer: "And the walls and the windows and the ceiling, perhaps the door..."

Broo Fang Tane smiled slightly at the attempt at humor. "I coul....d help," he said.

"There you go," I was relieved that his good humor was returning. So, I think, was everyone else who had witnessed the rather lop-sided fight. "Don't think of it as a talent for slaughter, but redecorating!"

"Either way, you'll never want for work," Seymuhr put in.

"I must admit, you do have a propensity to attract unwanted attention," I said after another mouthful of spiderfat soup. Indeed, I had been in three taverns with Tane and seen more than a dozen men dead or maimed because of it. "Is that what first took you to the Temple of the Sun?"

The Temple of the Sun, in far-off Nicaria, was where pilgrims went to learn the Way of the Optimist, and the fighting skills required to spread good cheer during these troubled times. Korrin was often a silly place, but it was a dark place, too, and anyone who tried to cheer someone else up had to know how to defend him or herself.

"I do not know," Tane said. "I was to....o...youn...g to understand much a...bout that place and i...t's teachings."

"Oh? I'm afraid I do not understand. I thought most boys who joined the order sought it out when they were of age. Is that not the case?"

"It is, usual...ly," Tane said. "But not for........................me."

In his slow, halting way, Tane told us of how his father had led him into the snow-slickened slopes of the Jagged Peaks and wept with joy when he found the temple gates. He remembered his father's heavy fist pounding on him and then not much else. When he looked up, his father was already walking away.

"Oh. He just left you there?"

Tane nodded. Mallyn had scooted near the table, her pink sponge working furiously at a thick blood stain.

I could only imagine how frightened Tane must have felt, and confused. I shook my head in wonder. It was no wonder Korrin was such a dark and silly place when parents took no responsibility for or joy in their offspring.

"With no word at all?"

"Oh, he said one...thing. But it was to the monk who....opened the...gate and...not to...me."

"I hope it was 'thank you,' at least!"

Broo Fang Tane shook his head. "It was: 'Good luck with this one.'"

"Well that's the next best thing," Mallyn said with a snorting chuckle and then, when I shot her an irritated glare, scrubbed the floor with renewed vigor. "I've heard worse," she muttered.

I favored Tane with a sympathetic glance, but the monk was looking down at the table and did not see it. I patted his hand, instead. Seymuhr, his belly full of spiderfat soup, roasted spider flank, spider silk noodles, spider jerky and whipped spider cream, had dozed off.

Spiderfat soup

Esmiralda and her companions, the Optimist Monk Broo Fang Tane and Seymuhr Skullsquasher were enjoying a brief respite outside the walls of Veral Ski, the largest city in the land of Korrin, when a group of locals teased Tane into a deadly confrontation.

"You know, this spiderfat soup isn't half bad," I said. The thick liquid had a smoky flavor and a vague honey-like aftertaste. The chunks of carapace were boiled perfectly and retained only a touch of their crispness. I dug a stiff hair from between my teeth.

"You should try the spider silk ale," the serving wench added with a nod and a snorting chortle. "I've lost many a night to its seductive flavor." She raised her eyebrows at me suggestively.

"Perhaps later," I said. I put a reassuring hand--very tentatively, of course--on Tane's arm. "You didn't mean to kill those men. It's okay. They started the fight."

He made a non-committal noise and continued to stare glumly at the table top. Seymurh slurped a bit of stringy fluid from the inside of a spider leg and ignored us both. He belched and patted his stomach, then rooted around in a bowl for another stalk.

"They could have stopped. They didn't have to tease you that way."

"They ne....v...er do," Tan whispered.

"Poor little feller," The serving wench returned. Her name was Mallynda. "Is he always this gloomy?"

"Just the opposite, in fact," I said. "He is of the Order of the Optimists, and tasked with spreading good news and cheer throughout the land."

Mallyn whistled. "No wonder he's such a good fighter. Those are dangerous tidings, indeed."

Seymuhr belched again, louder this time and a few people in the corner cheered and clapped.

"Who would have guessed that we'd ever live in a world where a hearty belch is greeted with more enthusiasm than a message of hope and happiness," Mallyn said. "Hope, we need more of. Gastric distress is all too plentiful."

"You should know," Seymuhr said as he lifted a leg and squinted. "These spiced spider legs have my guts churning like a stormy sea."

I waved a hand furiously in front of my face and scowled at him. "And what was it yesterday, then?"

"Listen," Mallyn said as she sat down next to Tane. "You mustn't lose your spark of sun, even when others try to force it out of you. Those men needed to be taught a lesson. They are here often, looking to stir things up. Sometimes, the trouble you cook up doesn't sit well."

"Forgive me," I said to her. "But you speech has the cadence of education. Why is someone so learned serving roughnecks in a tavern?"

Mallyn snorted and chortled again. "Oh, I'm not that learned. You just pick up a few things here and there. My education is nothing more than that." She colored slightly and got quickly to her feet. Someone raised and empty glass and she hurried to retrieve it, leaving me to stare at her swaying hips and wonder.

Whirled peas, not world peace

...in which Broo Fang Tane goes on another over-the-top rampage

Previously:
With the mountain witch Abilene vanquished, Esmiralda invokes her traveling stone to return her and her companions to civilization--in this case, Veral Ski, one of the largest cities in the world of Korin. Here, she means to inform the Ministry of Human Preservation of the loss of their colleague, Merrick, who served the ministry under the direction of Queen Phedera. First, she intends to find a hot bath, warm food and a soft bed. Sadly, it was not meant to be.

Tane's high-pitched battle cry reached a crescendo and he punched his first two fingers up through the soft part of his tormentor's throat. He slammed the dying man's forehead on the table twice, knocking everything else askew. He jerked his bloody hand free, then sent the man sprawling with an elbow to his gut--all actions again punctuated by an incoherent yelp of rage.

The first man lay still, leaking fluids onto the tavern floor before his snickering companions could even react. One of them, a tall bearded fellow with no hair above his ears, lurched forward, but Tane was already on his feet, eyes wide with anger. He caught the man's wrist with one hand and shattered his elbow with the other. The man opened his mouth to scream but Tane's heel knocked him to the floor before he could utter a sound.

I grabbed a chair and ducked behind it. Others dove for cover, behind tables or chairs or each other. A woman with long red hair leaped in my direction. She crawled behind me and I put a protective shoulder in front of her. "Be still and make yourself as small as you can," I told her.

Tane took the bowl off his head and wiped the smashed peas from his scalp. He hurled the ceramic dish at one man and leaped after it. The man dodged the bowl but then Tane was in front of him. He kicked the man's leg, bending his knee backward with an ugly crack, and then flattened him with an uppercut that lifted him off his feet. Blood spurted upward like a tiny, thick geyser.

The fourth man held up his hands in surrender and waved them in front of his face. "I'm sorry mister I'm sorry we were just having some fun..."

Tane grabbed his wrist, bent it sideways until a shard of bone broke through the skin, and then drove the heel of his hand into the man's nose. He staggered back, gulping, and Tane sent him sprawling with a firm kick to his midsection.

Someone threw a knife, but Tane caught it and sent it back. It buried itself in the man's eye. He dropped to his knees. Tane snatched up a chair and shattered it over his head.

He whirled, eyes still blazing, chest heaving. "WHO'S NEXT??"

"I think you got them all, Pard," Seymuhr said. 

"He must really not like peas," the woman behind me whispered.

"You can't blame him for that," I answered. I got slowly to my feet, holding up my hands to show him I meant no harm, like I was trying to calm a panicked horse. "There, there. It's okay now. All the bad men are...well, they aren't going to bother you any longer."

Tane took in a final deep breath, then looked around him and let it out loudly. His head fell and his shoulders drooped. "I am....sorry." He sat down heavily.

"My companion meant no harm," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "He is but a pilgrim on the road to peace. He still has a long journey ahead of him."

"Are you sure he's started that journey?" Someone called out, but I could not tell who.

The serving wench peeked from behind the bar, where she had been hiding. She took a quick look around the room to survey the damage. "I'll get a bucket," she said.

An all-too brief peace

With the mountain witch Abilene vanquished, Esmiralda invokes her traveling stone to return her and her companions to civilization--in this case, Veral Ski, one of the largest cities in the world of Korin. Here, she means to inform the Ministry of Human Preservation of the loss of their colleague, Merrick, who served the ministry under the direction of Queen Phedera. First, she intends to find a hot bath, warm food and a soft bed.

"Bucket of blood?" I asked Seymuhr. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"Why not?" He answered with a shrug. He glanced around. "I doubt they have that much here, anyway."

"It's just...I...we shouldn't be making such a scene. The way we look, people are apt to ask us questions."

Broo Fang Tane slurped his soup, winced, and pulled a long, thick spider claw from between his teeth. He held it up in the dim light of the tavern, sniffed it, then crunched it between his jaws. My stomach hitched and I saw the serving woman leaning over the crucible. She took in a deep breath, eyes sparkling, and licked her lips. I heard loud eating noises all around me and I tried to ignore them.

"We have nothing to hide," Seymuhr said. "And look around you. Nobody is paying us any heed."

Indeed, the figures in the tavern were all slumped over their bowls or spider-filled platters, crunching and slurping away. Around the walls, men sprawled in some of the booths, their arms up around their seats and their legs played open. Two of them had their boots off and were wiggling crusty toes. Coated in gore we may have been, but stand out we did not.

Then the door banged open and four men walked in. The first, a man large and broad with a thick neck and broken nose, lit up when he saw the three of us. He clapped hands together and made a soft, gleeful sound as his three companions snickered. He walked toward us.

As he approached, he licked the palm of his hand and then slapped the top of Tane's bald crown. He chortled at the sharp sound, licked his palm again and slapped It down, a little more firmly.

Tane tensed for an instant, then his shoulders relaxed. He looked up at the man.

"Why do you....do....this?"

The man stuck a finger up his nose and rooted around before answering. "Why? Oh why, why why. Why does the river flow to the west?"

"That's where the sea is," I answered, hoping to send the man away.

"There are seas in the east, too," he pointed out. He pulled a slimy finger out of his nostril and wiped it on Tane's cheek.

"Please, I want no troub.....le," Tane said.

Seymuhr leaned back, arms crossed, a mischievous smile on his face. I glared at him, imploring him to intercede.

"You won't be any trouble, monk-ey," the man snarled. A strange look crossed his face and he abruptly turned around, raised his arse and broke wind in Tane's ear. "There, I just wanted to remind you of your mother."

I shouted. A soft, high-pitched growl had started in Tane's throat. I recognized the sound and my heart started racing. "Leave us in peace! We are merely weary travelers, looking to enjoy some...some fresh spider!"

"Peace?" The man seemed unfamiliar with the word. He glanced back at his companions and repeated it. Two of them scratched their heads, the third let out an inquisitive grunt as he spread his hands in a confused gestured.

"Yes." Tane regained his voice. "I am a man of....peace."

The man snatched up the bowl and emptied it on to Tane's head, pushing it down and twisting it. "Well, you're a man of peas, now!" He chortled, slapped his own belly and bent over laughing. Seymuhr chuckled, too, but I caught a dangerous glint in Tane's eye and heard his knuckles crack as he formed a tight fist. The high-pitched growl returned and grew into a crescendo.

"Oh, bones of Barnok," I whispered. Tane exploded into action and then the shrieking started.

A hot meal and a bucket of blood

With the mountain witch Abilene vanquished, Esmiralda invokes her traveling stone to return her and her companions to civilization--in this case, Veral Ski, one of the largest cities in the world of Korin. Here, she means to inform the Ministry of Human Preservation of the loss of their colleague, Merrick, who served the ministry under the direction of Queen Phedera. First, she intends to find a hot bath, warm food and a soft bed.

We selected a small inn on the outskirts of the city. It was filled with weary travelers and few of them took much notice of us as we stumbled in and sat heavily at a table near the far wall. The conversation inside was muted and most men where slumped over brown cups of ale. There were a few women sprinkled between them, equally plain, many with their hair tucked under a cloth or braided into place.

A huge vat bubbled over smoldering coals in the fireplace, giving off an exotic, spicy scent that made my stomach rumble. The keeper gave it a quick stir, sniffing the vapors he disturbed. He motioned for one of the serving women and pointed in our direction.

"Do you have any coin?" I asked Seymuhr.

"A few."

"Let's hope it's enough to buy a meal, a bath and a room for the night. I am not quite ready to be seen in civilized company."

"I think you...look...nice," Broo Fang Tane said. "And the sm....ell is har...dly...noticea....ble."

I gave him a fake smile. "Thank you for that."

The serving girl approached, a tired but cheerful look on her face. Her hair was the color of straw and her shirt was pulled tight around her middle, open at the top. Seymuhr's gaze lingered there and I rolled my eyes. Men: covered in gore and fresh from battle, they think women find them as irresistible as they do.

"A good day to you, travelers," the woman said. "We've ale and dried leaves for tea, a bit of mutton left and greens that are fresh from the market."

"What's in the pot?"

"Oh, you must be from far away indeed, if you don't know of our soup. It's rather famous."

"I bet it's delicious," I said, with real relish. "What is it called?"

"Well, it's spiderfat soup, of course. The best in the land." She curtsied as she said it, as if she was solely responsible for its taste and reputation. "Everything we serve here is made of the finest spider."

"I see." I could feel my face falling. "Even the mutton?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "It's spider-mutton, actually. Fresh, juicy flanks. We rub a little thyme and rosemary into the carapace to give it an extra bit of flavor--not that it needs much," she added with a snorting laugh.

"I'll go with the greens, then," I said.

"One spider leg salad," she repeated, then went on before I could protest. "And you two?"

"All of it for me," Seymuhr said, slapping the table. "And keep it coming!"

Tane merely nodded and I was grateful for that. I was too hungry to wait for him to work his way through another sentence. I requested, as politely as I could, anything that did not include spider and the woman gave me a puzzled look, but promised to see what she could find.

"You would think, being this close to a city and so many farms, that they would serve something besides spider," I said. I reached my fingers into my hair to scratch my scalp and pulled them away, disgusted. It felt like they were coated in slime. "Are there no cows in the fields? Fish in the river?"

"Cats in the barn?" Seymuhr put in, earning a scowl.

"You're in a fine mood," I said. "I thought Tane was the optimist among us."

"You need to learn to live without all your fineries," he told me. "Korin is not such a  bad realm if you lower your expectations of comfort."

Perhaps. But what type of place was it becoming? Who would carry on Merrick's mission? Korin was and hopefully always would be a silly place, but it could be dark and dangerous, too. Confronting the mountain witch and skimming through the book that chronicled her evils, I couldn't help but wonder if the shadows were growing and the light, receding. I felt suddenly weary for the stories I would have to tell--starting with Merrick's end at the hands of the pirate's undead mistress.

Then the serving wench returned. She plopped down two bowls of steaming soup in front of Tane and Seymuhr. Part of a hairy spider leg protruded from the viscous surface of Tane's bowl; he used it to stir the broth. She placed a heaping bowl of peas in front of me with an apologetic shrug.

"That's all we have, besides spider," she said.

I looked at the bowl, then at the soup that Seymuhr was noisily slurping, then at the pot bubbling in the crucible, then back at the peas and then completed another visual circuit.

"You know what? I'll try the soup, instead."

She turned toward the pot, but left the bowl of peas on the table.

"Later, we'll need two rooms," I said. "Do you have any available?"

She nodded and took another step.

"And a fresh bucket of blood to bathe in," Seymuhr called after her.  Pointing at the gore that covered his arms, his face, his scalp, was smeared down his legs, across is abdomen, between his fingers and caked on his boots, he added: "This, this is just getting too sticky and stale for my tastes."

A brief glimpse of Veral Ski, or: world building without a map or a plan

With the mountain witch Abilene vanquished, Esmiralda invokes her traveling stone to return her and her companions to civilization--in this case, Veral Ski, one of the largest cities in the world of Korin. Here, she means to inform the Ministry of Human Preservation of the loss of their colleague, Merrick, who served the ministry under the direction of Queen Phedera. First, she intends to find a hot bath, warm food and a soft bed.


We found ourselves on a wooded hill not far from the great city's southern gate. Veral Ski! It grew from the valley floor like a flower, with jagged walls and towers that stretched straight and sure toward the clouds.

Nestled on the banks of the Deep River, Veral Ski had grown from the river like a patch of lichen gradually spreading west. The buildings grew taller, the further they were from the vital waterway, although in recent history attempts had been made to reclaim the ramshackle docks and inner city from centuries of poor use and bad traffic. The grimy alleys and dubious structures of the north docks were being replaced with wider streets and some degree of law and order--although they were nowhere near as fashionable as the SouthShore section of the city.

"I never thought I would see her again," I breathed, once I had my bearings. I stepped back into the cover of the trees, suddenly aware of my appearance and stench. Seymuhr, Broo Fang Tane and I were all more than a little disheveled. Our clothes were torn and covered in gore. Seymuhr and Tane wore a patchwork of scratches and cuts, too, that had barely started to scab over. I was luckier than they in that regard, but my long hair was a tangle that would take time, patience and concentration to straighten out. We all smelled as if we had crawled through a fresh crypt on our bellies--which, I guessed, we nearly had.

"And who is that, then?"

"I meant the city," I answered Seymuhr.

"Never stop...believing," Tane said, his face bright with optimism once more. "I have nev....er...walked the stree.......ts of...Ve...ral Ski be....fore. Is there a Tem...ple of the....Sun with...in its...."

"Yes, there is a Temple of the Sun within the city," I grew impatient with his slow, lilting speech and finished his question for him. "There is room for everything within the great city--even optimists. I'm sure your order is well-represented."

"It may even be tolerated," Seymuhr suggested. "I've heard that city folk embrace hope on occasion."

"The rich ones do, at any rate," I said. "I suggest we attend to our appearance before we try to conduct any business. I am confident that we can arrange an audience with the queen if we do not look--or smell--like we just crawled from the depths of Ewl's domain," I added, giving Seymuhr a lingering and, I hoped, meaningful look.

"The riv...er is beautif...ul. What is its......name?"

"It's just named the Deep River."

"That is...all?"

I shrugged. "Mubbe the Wanderer, the explorer who discovered and, consequently, named much of the part of Korin, was not very creative. Besides, it's enough."

"It must...be...pret...ty deep, then."

"Depends on how tall you are, I guess."

There were a scattering of buildings outside the city walls, of course, and I assumed that some of them would be taverns or inns where travelers like ourselves could scrape the dust of their travels from their clothes and bodies prior to entering the city. One of them had a large enclosure where several horses ambled and snacked on tufts of long grass and a long, low building that looked to be some sort of stable. Smoke trailed up from its chimney. It looked peaceful enough. I pointed at it and headed that way. Seymuhr fell in beside me and Tane, after a somewhat reluctant grunt, followed.

The short goodbye

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have fought their way into the lair of the mountain witch to uproot her evil, once and for all. They defeated the witch, but lost a companion during the battle.

Seymuhr and Broo Fang Tane scraped a depression into the rough ground near the top of the valley. Tane and I arranged Merrick in the grave, taking great care to be as gentle as possible. His face was serene; once the pain of his death had passed his body had accepted its end with what looked like a combination of grace and humor. He might have just been having a pleasant dream or remembering a funny moment.

Tane swayed fluidly over his still form, his arms and legs moving on intricate, soothing patterns. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely lyrical and I took it to be a kind of prayer known to the Order of Optimists. Behind us, Baram stood, her head lowered respectfully. Seymuhr was hauling rocks of various sizes up to Merrick's final resting place. Many were small, the size of his fists, but others were large enough to sink into the ground when he dropped them. He moved them all without apparent exertion. When Tane finished his ritual, he nodded at Seymuhr, who moved the stones in place, larger ones at the base and smaller ones on top, to finish the cairn. I considered leaving his staff to further mark it, but decided instead to plunge the dried witchwood dagger into the mound.

Everyone looked at me.

I cleared my throat. "I scarcely knew Merrick," I started, "but liked what I knew of him. He was noble and pure, wise and strong. He was a force for good and a light, now extinguished, that will make Korin a bit darker."

Seymuhr grunted. Tane nodded.

"I will tend this spot and see that all that grows nearby honors his memory," Baram said.

We stood awkwardly for a few more moments. I felt my eyes fill with tears. My mind kept leaping toward the future; I was filled with uncertainty about our next course of action. I felt small, cast upon a violent wind like a dried leaf. The queen, I decided, must know of his loss. I reached into my tunic and pulled out my Traveling Stone, a bright green chip of rock worn smooth through countless years of use. It was thinner now than when it had first been gifted to me, but still mildly warm to the touch. I rubbed it gently, cradling it with my first two fingers and rubbing the other side with my thumb, and felt the magic come alive.

"Farewell," I said to Baram. "May we meet some day under better skies."

Then I joined hands with Tane and Seymuhr, closed my eyes, concentrated on the great city and whispered: "Veral Ski."

There was a moment of stillness, followed by a tingling in my core. A wind came up and the ground, the forest, the rocks and the valley was no more.

The witch's end

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have fought their way into the lair of the mountain witch to uproot her evil, once and for all...

"Bones of Barnok," I gasped. I felt like a newly finished suit of armor: exterior still stinging from the blows of countless hammers, hollow inside. I saw Baram's hand above me, reaching out, and I reluctantly grasped it and felt her pull me to my feet.

"I am sorry," she said. "She stole my husband and I believed her lies."

"I was there when we freed him, remember?" I poked my shoulder, arm, belly--I was tender everywhere. Broo Fang Tane crouched over Merrick's form; he had not yet regained his feet. Seymuhr looked mostly unharmed. He was covered in gore to his elbows, but had a smile on his face. He saluted me with a dripping mace.

"No. You weren't. At least not then. That unfortunate soul belonged to another. My betrothed was here, in this chamber, chained behind that witch." She looked over to the dark place where nothing stirred. "I sensed something, either in you or your companions--I could not tell which--and I knew I had to bring you here to stop her. I know not why she wanted you here."

"Glad to be of service," I muttered and turned away, Tane was motioning to me and Merrick was still on the ground. Concern was etched into the monk's face.

Merrick was red-faced and wheezing. I could see no mark on him, yet blood seeped from the corner of his mouth and, even more alarmingly, his ears. He blinked rapidly and his eyes were wild.

"Mira," he gasped. "We have pulled the root of this evil, but scattered the seeds."

"Rest, friend," I said, stopping to hold his hand. It was cold. "She is no more. We are done here."

He closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. "I am," he said, "but I fear you are not."

"Don't talk like that. The danger has passed, for now. The witch is vanquished, dead and gone; banished to Ewl's dark domain. Where is your wound?"

He didn't answer. He looked up at Tane, whose tender expression was somehow more alarming than anything else. He moved his head toward Seymuhr, who was poking the grisly remnants of the dead witch with a gore-splattered boot. "Reach into my pocket," he rasped.

I did, and felt his leg quivering. My hand closed around an object, smaller than my palm and round, but with a point sticking out on either side near the top. I pulled it out. It was a small metal carving shaped like a round shield with a sword crossed near the top--the symbol of the Ministry of Human Preservation. He folded my fingers around it.

"This is yours now, as is the fight. Go to the queen. Show it to her and, and, tell my tale."

"Stop this," I insisted, my voice thick with sudden grief. "You'll tell her yourself. I am no fighter; I am a storyteller. I am not equipped...."

He went to poke me on my cheek, but spasmed and nearly put out my eye instead. "You are stronger than you know. Only you can do this." Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheek, where they mingled with the blood and turned into pink smears. "You are bound n..." Then a sudden pain jerked him half upright. His eyes squeezed tight and his lips drew back in a final grimace. He went slack with a great sigh.

"A good death," Seymuhr said. He nodded in approval as he snacked on one of his remaining dried spider legs. "We should all be so lucky."

"I'm going to miss him," Tane added. "He was like a...shade...tree...to me."

"I fear we will all walk in his shadow from now on," I said. I gently lowered him to the cavern floor and pushed myself to my feet. I crossed his arms his chest and closed his eyes. His staff, I picked up. "What to do with him now?"

"If you'll allow me," Baram spoke quietly, her head tilted in a sign of respect, "I would give him back to the land. It is a service I would gladly perform to make up for my deception. His form would nurture Korin as much as his soul sought to protect it."

"That would be......................................................................................................................good," Tane agreed finally.

Semuhr lifted Merrick and we headed toward the open air.

The witchwood blade

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have fought their way into the lair of the mountain witch to uproot her evil, once and for all...

Baram moved back toward the shadows. She stooped and her form began to roil and change. I watched for a moment, repelled and transfixed at the same time as she began to shrink as her shoulders spread and arms thickened and sprouted wings. Her bones cracked like warming ice and I had to look away for the other noises in the cavern were reaching a crescendo.

I heard Merrick's hoarse breathing and mumbled incantations. The air crackled with energy. Seymuhr sang in a tongue I could not immediately recognize as his maces shattered the shuffling forms in front of him. Broo Fang Tane yowled and barked sharp vicious war cries as he laid ruin to the mass of undead that pushed through the cavern toward us.

The witchwood blade pulsed in my palm. warm and smooth, as if it still carried the current of life that seeped up from the very center of Korin. Witchwood trees were scattered throughout the land; their origins were lost in the knowledge of the ancient races but they were imbued with strange properties and hidden strengths and, some said, an intelligence of their own. I had never seen one, nor felt their magic before. It was astonishing; I felt a connection to the rock beneath my feet and, very faintly, the tortured souls of the shambling horde that sought to destroy us. 

The blade drew me toward Abilene's malevolent presence and I sensed that she was aware of its existence. I felt a trickle of fear in her as she paused and turned her attention to me. The witchwood sang in me and propelled me forward. I was at peace.

"You...?" The witch was terrible to behold. All vestiges of its youthful beauty had been blasted away or merely discarded. The perfect skin we had seen moments ago hung in red strips from her jaws. Rotted teeth curved like fangs. Her full, red hair was nothing but twisted dirty ropes that writhed like snakes. And her eyes...despite the magic of the witchwood blade, I could not meet her gaze. One look into those black pits and I knew, blade or not, that my soul would be blasted and lost.

Baram's bird form swooped from the darkness above. It screeched, talons extended, and tore more flesh from Abilene's skull. She shrieked and I saw Merrick fall forward, landing on his knees. He gripped his staff and it might have been the only thing that kept him upright. He wheezed and slumped forward. My heart called to him.

Somehow, I was standing in front of the witch. The knife grew hot in my hand. Its warmth spread up my arm and enveloped me, a sensation so primal it tickled my teeth. She bared her teeth in a fearsome grimace and I could feel her hatred boiling toward me, a black disdain for all life and I thought I was screaming, not yelling in defiance or anger of my own, but screaming in utter horror as I plunged the blade into the side of her ancient skull.

I can scarcely describe what happened next. It was as if a storm descended from the sky and covered us all. My ears were filled with an explosion of sound, like a crack of thunder that spun me around and flung me to the hard floor. A yawning void opened and a bizarre, dank wind assailed us all and carried all sound from the chamber. I thought I had gone deaf until the silence gradually eased. I heard rocks pattering to the ground, Baram moaning softly and someone taking a hoarse breath. That was all.

Battle under the mountain

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have fought their way into the lair of the mountain witch to uproot her evil, once and for all...

Broo Fang Tane let loose another stone that ripped through the air and bounced off the witch's cheek. This time, the impact loosened the flesh on her face like a ripple in a still pond: the skin roiled and dropped and fell, revealing a curved jaw studded with pointed, blackened teeth. Her eyes turned black and cold and an inhuman shriek filled the chamber, so ghastly and shrill that I covered my ears--nearly stabbing myself with my knife in the process.

A wave of cold energy swept over me and knocked me to the ground. For a second I couldn't breathe--it felt like snakes made of ice were wriggling up my nose. I rolled, spat and coughed. My companions had fared better. Merrick was still on his feet, although the wave of cold had knocked him a few steps backward. Tane had joined Seymuhr, who battled the horde of shuffling dead things that cut off our escape. They were violence and destruction personified--Seymuhr with his two maces causing ruin wherever they landed and Tane a one-man storm of chaotic precision. His fists and feet scattered liquefied brains and putrefied flesh wherever they landed. His eyes were wide with rage and nearly every blow was punctuated by his bizarre, high-pitched war cry. Both of them were coated with gore.

"On your feet, woman!" Merrick hissed at me. His face was red, his eyes puffing and his chest heaving. He growled some form on incantation and cocked his fingers in what looked like a painful fashion, but the mountain witch only cackled at his attempt to overcome her own magic.

I rolled, grabbed my knife again and said a prayer. My heart raced and I tasted dirt and stone. What could I do? I could be no help to Seymuhr or Broo Fang Tane--they appeared to be holding their own. It was Merrick who was failing. He was clearly overmatched. I crawled off to the side of the cavern, where the shadows were deeper, and made my way laboriously around the cavern. Maybe Merrick could distract Abilene long enough for me to strike her. If my simple blade would have any effect, I did not know.

The air sizzled with arcane energy and stank of rot. Sounds unlike any I had ever heard assailed my ears, horrible syllables that awakened in me an icy panic. I am shamed to admit it now, but I found myself cowering in the shadows, covering my head with my arms in a futile attempt to block those repulsive noises. I whimpered and tried to will my body to move to help, to stand and strike, but could not. My fingers felt for the Traveling Stone that rested between my bosom. Escape was so close; I could call on its magic and be free almost instantly.

Merrick shouted in pain just then, and I pulled my hand away. Tears burned in the corner of my eye. I felt dirty and small. I forced myself to my elbows and crawled forward--until I saw a ragged pair of boots in front of me. Baram. With a tremendous effort, I lifted my head and saw her gazing down on me.

"What?" I gasped and spat. "Have you come now to finish your work, witch?"

"Yes," she said. She half-opened a hand, revealing a twisted piece of wood that I first mistook for a broken shard of bark. The she twisted it and I saw it was a slender blade, not carved, I somehow knew, but shaped through some other means. I was unfamiliar with the making of it, but I recognized it for what it was and I could scarcely believe it--even after Baram ran a thumb over its edge and her bright blood spilled in a straight, thin line.

"Is that...witchwood?" 

She nodded once and pressed the blade into my palm. At once I felt its warmth, like I was enveloped in an invigorating bath. I stood.

"We must hurry," she said. "Our time here wanes."

Next: The Witchwood Blade

Which witch is which

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have fought their way into the lair of the mountain witch to uproot her evil, once and for all...

The air turned bitterly cold as we approached the red flickering light. My feet protested each time I took a step forward, as if my lower bones rebelled against the chill that leapt up like frozen daggers from the ground. I saw varying degrees of effort on my companions' faces as the light intensified. Only Baram looked immune--perhaps the forest sage was in tune with the land no matter what the overlying conditions were; the stale heat of summer, the fresh winds of spring and autumn, the icy grip of winter. Whatever the reason, she walked steadily behind us, urging us silently toward our goal.

Which we saw when we rounded a final bend.

The rock opened before us. Jagged walls reached toward the sky and were lost in the blackness. Below, the red light pulsated, not created by some form of flame or forge or even magic, but seeping from rents in the stone that looked like open wounds. The stench was horrendous; it pushed back against us, baked into our nostrils but the sudden heat. I gagged.

The floor was littered with crawling, twitching things that had once been human. Their scattered remains convulsed is a grisly dance that was terrible to behold, as if their death had not brought them any peace but instead increased their torment. They writhed and shrieked and wailed as they wiggled toward us, groping toward our ankles with rotting fingers.

Merrick dragged the bottom of his staff in front of us, as if he could create a line in the filth-blackened stone. He mumbled something and the gem at the stop of his staff began to glow. Broo Fang Tane pulled his chained weapon from his belt and swung it in a circle, a low battle cry forming at the base of his throat.

I moved behind Seymuhr and stared at the bizarre spectacle that awaited us.

Abilene herself--so I assumed--lounged on a slab of rock that was elevated from the cavern floor on a heap of ancient bone. I didn't know what I had expected--some form of vile, age shrunken wraith with burning eyes and sagging flesh, perhaps--but her appearance surprised me. She was short, plump, with red hair and freckled cheeks that looked more youthful than my own. A black cloth covered her ample bosom and another was tied around her wide hips. Still her bright green eyes and full lips oozed a sort of feminine promise. I could see how Harfigorn could have fallen under her spell and why his crew would have blindly followed them both.

"Hello," she said in a voice that was surprisingly mild and pleasant.

"Hi." Seymuhr answered. Then shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, when Merrick elbowed him.

"I must admit, I didn't think you'd go through with it," Abilene said. "A testament to the power of love, or some such thing."

"Wouldn't...?" Merrick was clearly as puzzled as I was. He looked at me, confusion in his gaze, then scratched his scalp.

Abilene's laugh was melodic. She bent over, her hands between her thighs, as her green eyes lit with mischief. Even I felt my gaze drawn toward the shadows of her cleavage, the promise of her somehow still vibrant womanhood. "Oh, come now," she slid a slender tongue over her perfect teeth--not hanged and chipped as I had expected, at all. "Come forward. Your task is done. Admirably done. Your reward awaits."

Seymuhr took half a step. An exclamation burst from my throat. Merrick clutched at his shoulder.

Abilene's voice was suddenly cold as iron. "Not. You, irf." She lifted her gaze above his head and crooked a finger. "Come forth, woman."

"Irf?" I glanced at Seymuhr. Irf? He had the old blood in his veins? Then I saw Baram steel herself and step forward, pushing a stunned Merrick aside. She gave me a mournful gaze as she walked toward Abilene's perch. My stomach went sour and my throat went dry. "No."

She didn't answer, but Abilene laughed again. "'Fraid so, dear. Did you think you could survive long enough to find me if I didn't want you to? I rule this place. All that happens is within my will -- and my will alone."

Baram walked stiffly toward the divan, shoulders set and head held high, as if she had to force herself not to look over her shoulder at us. She headed not directly to Abilene, but a recess in the cave wall to her right. In the darkness beyond the throne I could barely make out what looked like bars.

"No matter," Merrick called. "You only speed your doom. We are here to stop you."

"You are here," Abilene corrected in a frosty voice, "to advance my dominion over this land. Your companions are here to witness it and carry that image and the knowledge of how powerless they are to their graves. It is boon I will grant you, so your death may be a relief."

"That's very kind of you," Seymuhr said.

I glared at him, shocked. Was he in the grip of some type of charm?  

"What?" He sounded defensive. "She didn't have to do that."

I opened and closed my mouth several times as I tried to find something to say to that. Then several things happened at once. Baram, hidden within the recess behind Abilene's throne, shrieked in horror and rage. Broo Fang Tane let out a high-pitched war cry and I saw a smooth stone fly from his sling and strike the witch on the forehead. She snarled and wiped away the blood that blossomed there--and a small sheet of perfect skin came off with it, revealing yellow bone. The jewel atop Merrick's staff was blazing and it sounded like he was singing. Rasping sounds filled the cavern behind us and Seymuhr turned that way, a mace in each hand and a grim smile on his face.

Just like that, the battle was joined. I stood in the middle, unsure of where to direct my attention or which foe to fight.

The witch's armpit

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have fought their way into the lair of the mountain witch to uproot her evil, once and for all...


Inside, the wind stopped and the air pressed against us, dank and still. The smell of death was nearly tangible. I pulled my scarf over my nose.

"It wasn't me," Seymuhr said.

"This time," I allowed.

Broo-Fang Tane crept up the cavern and peered around a bend. What he hoped to see, I could not know. It was darker than pitch inside the cave, a blackness that had no beginning or end.

Behind us, Abilene's army of collected souls swayed, hissed and moaned, but did not follow us. Merrick was looking that way, too.

"What if they press in behind us?"

"I don't think they will," he answered me. He sounded grim. "I believe they have, for now, served their purpose. They will prohibit our retreat. We can only go forward now."

"We could fight our way out," Seymuhr said. "They are slow, clumsy and weak. And there aren't as many, now. I saw to that."

"We did," Merrick agreed. "My suspicion is the witch's black power controls those wretches. If we are successful in destroying her, that hold will be broken and those poor creatures will gain their eternal rest."

"And if we're not?"

He looked at me. "Then it won't matter."

I shuddered. Had those unliving things once held the same thoughts as we did? Had they come here seeking to end Abilene's evil? What a bitter irony, then, to be forced into her service.

"If it comes to that..."

"Don't worry," Seymuhr said with a mischievous grin. "I'll free you from the witch's embrace, no matter how many times I have to kill you."

"How gracious of you."

"I would expect the same of you."

I nodded with a thin smile. If Seymuhr fell to the witch, I would most likely run as fast and as far as I could, or invoke my Traveling Stone to escape. With power such as his at her command, what chance would we have? Nope. Escape, find a shoreline, steal a boat and set sail.

We foundered along, feeling our way through the darkness. I could see nothing, not even the shapes of my companions. We bumped into each other, struck walls and knocked our heads on low hanging rocks that felt like daggers that scraped our skulls. Now and again I heard the sound of one of Semuhr's maces striking the soft stone. Later he told me that he held one just above his forehead and used the other as a sort of beggar's cane to protect himself from roof and wall.

Merrick bit back a yelp of pain and muttered a string of profanities so long and foul I thought my ears would curl up and hide inside my head to escape the sound of it.

"Balliessen's bleeding bitch," he muttered at the end of it. I heard him rubbing his forehead faster than a carpenter trying to smooth a piece of pine without first removing the bark. "This armpit of a cavern is itself defeating us!"

I nearly hissed at him to be silent, but then realized our attempts to move quietly through the cavern should have been abandoned long before. We were probably making more noise than a carriage careening down a staircase--horses and all. We would have had a better chance of surprising the dark witch if we had crawled through the stagnant pools at our feet.

We decided to move closer together, our left hand on the shoulder of the person in front of us. Seymuhr took the lead, then Tane, then me and Merrick. Even so, our progress was slow and painful. I had already taken so many blows to the head that I felt dazed. The emptiness around me played tricks on my mind; I was certain I was falling forward, or sideways or backward. Were it not for Tane's steady, but improbably slender, shoulder to hold on to, I surely would have flopped around in the darkness like a beached pike gasping for air.

Then I noticed two things: there was no pursuit, no sound of a shuffling mob behind us. And the darkness was fading. Gradually, I could make out Seymuhr's squat, wide form, mace held high. Tane looked at me, a hopeful expression on his face. The walls took shape, gnarled and twisted and bumpy as a pox-ridden bull, framed in an eerie, flickering redness that beckoned from beyond a curve.

We were close. At last.