The Black Ranger

And yet another time I am trying to write this story. The fourth time, to be exact. It just won't go away. Please, be kind, and, perhaps, you'll help me to overcome the menace this story has become to me and do it *properly* this time 'round.

It is an alternative universe (AU) version of Valygar Corthala's tale starting at the end of the Shadow of Amn and continuing through ToB and beyond. As any AU it does deviate from the game events. I appologize in advance, but I was chronically unable to write the story which narrates the game events exactly and precisely. It is losely connected with Corthala Romantique spirit and ideas, and basically constitute the explanation of one of the epilogues. Very *long-winded* explanation.

It is likely to bore people to death B) and I appologize in advance for grammatical mishaps. I did all I could to get them under control, but they are still there, I am sure. If you see one, trap it and deliver it to me in a comment. I'd finish it off.

Of course, other comments are very welcome as well.

Oh, yes, the annoying first voice narration will be seen only in Prologue and in Part II.

Wish me luck, even if it does run out.

********PROLOGUE**********

The last candle flickered and finally expired in a whiff of smoke. I sat in the darkness, my hands still pressing the map down, to prevent it from rolling up. Inevitably, the memory of the man, who taught me to read maps, came. It was bright and clear in the absence of light and reality.

I can hear my father?s dry voice, interrupted by a fit of a cough now and then. Here he sits, near me, pointing to a small greenish patch of a forest by Umar Hills, and prompting me to look at a drawing of a single house, that marked the position of Immensvale.

There was a more interesting picture, with temples and bridges and the towers growing tall from the city walls. The waving banner over it read "Athkatla". It drew my eyes and I immediately imagined myself in one of those towers with a crossbow, shooting down at the hordes of attacking foes. Who those enemies were, I did not know. They looked like a black, livid mass, raising around the walls, so most probably, they were orc. I was yet innocent of the knowledge that there was hundreds of different monsters and that my own kin was the most dangerous of them all. But my father attracted my attention with a quick cuff on the back of my head and I listened more carefully to the histories he related to me. He mostly spoke of Amn and Tethyr and Calimshan of old. "The trees of our forest", my father said, "remember still that their forbearers were part of the great Forest of Keltormir"

The longing, when he talked about the trees was clear, but his voice became mechanical again, when he described the Elven Empire. I did not understand why would he mention Tethir the Dragonslayer only in passing and unwillingly. *I* would have happily skipped over the outlines of the borders, in favor of talking about the two ancient red wyrms, and Tethir, who had killed them singlehandedly. Perhaps, my father did not want me to get enamored with the deeds of the sword and shield any more than I already was.

My memory paints my father as a man of advanced age, but in reality, he was, perhaps a few years younger, than I am now. Only recently I came to understand, how much out of place and deeply unhappy my father was. Alexander Corthala was a sick man, outdone by his brilliant foreign wife in Arcane arts. Ironically, the Arcane are our family trade, but alas, it would have been better for us to be a family of hereditary executioners or money lenders. Amn does not love mages, but it frowned at, loathed and tolerated Corthalas for a few hundred years. At first, because Corthalas were protected by money and high birth, and later, when both fortune and power have run out - out of habit. His awkward social status grieved my father to no end, along with my mother?s deepening obsession with magic, which only worsened the situation. Finally, he decided to move away from Athkatla and from my mother. He bought a small cabin in Umar Hills. Unfortunately, like every other plan he made in his life, it was disrupted, for I came in, uncalled for and turned out to be his burden.

After more than fifteen years of marriage, my mother announced, that she was with child, and patiently waited out the months of pregnancy before resuming her seclusion with the scrolls. That was as much time as she could offer to her son. Alexander was subsequently charged with raising a lively lad, who wanted nothing but running outside and fighting with boys five years his elder. My father ought to have left Abyssina long before that, ought to have found a druid?s grove, as Cernd once did. Instead, he clutched his weak chest and coughed blood and poured salves on my scratches and cuts and bruises, no doubt wondering, how he produced such an abomination. He must have lost all hope to make me into a mage by the time I was five or so, and stubbornly refused to learn my letters and ciphers. Ironically, it aggrieved him. Perhaps, he hoped to attract my mothers dwindling attention by presenting her with a deserving heir. It would have been better for him, if my mother had fully forgotten of his existence.

I hope that Remin, whose bright red hair are no more fiery, than his spirit, finds himself more akin to his father, than I ever did. I made sure that Remin?s teachers indulge him with the stories he wants to hear. The ones of the great heroes and slain dragons, of treasure hordes and of mortals who became gods.

However, this story no teacher can tell him accurately. No doubt, he knows gossip and myths by now, but the truth is mine to tell. That is why I sit in the darkness of my old cabin in Umar Hills, breathing in the smell of rotten wood and listening to the wind. Sometimes, a sound of metal striking lightly on metal accompanies the wind?s gasps. Two of my Kingsguards stand outside, fully armored, never doubting that their Lord is attending to the matters of special importance in this rustic settlement, marked only on the most detailed maps of Amn. I keep up with this pretense, for their loyalty deserves me sparing their pride. They are not the ones, to whom I owe the truth. They are the sworn swords, the very best in the Realms, not confidants.

I am here, because that?s where it all started, on a day just like this, some twenty years ago. The only difference is, that Grenel and Dormar stood guard, not Sir Rondal the Fierce and Sir Elisey the Truespear. I am here, because Remin soon will turn fourteen, if he won?t get himself killed prior to that, in one of his wild escapades...

He will not, for he is destined to live, as I was once. He already foresees it and the dreams of fire and blood, that made him cry, when he was a babe, now excite and intoxicate him. He sees Zandor and other priests trailing in his steps and bowing from afar, the long sleeves of their robes sweeping the tiles of the floor. He must question by now, why the King?s son inspires the deeper awe in these dark men, than the King himself. But, unexpectedly, he has wisdom and patience, this son of mine. He knows, that if he asks, he?d have to hear the answers, whether he wants them or not. I did not have such fortunate qualities. I used to ask all sorts of questions, thinking that knowing will alter my fate. More fool I was.

So it all started, when I was hiding in my cabin and making plans to escape from Amn. The Cowled Wizards were on my heels, and I was unsurprised, when Grenel?s voice announced the presence of unwelcome visitors. A hard man, with no taste for intrigues, Grenel was asking of someone, if they were sent to hunt Valygar Corthala by the Wizards. The answer was an irritated chuckle and a gruff voice notified Grenel that his owner was "no hierling to any mage, be he hooded or bareheaded. " He had business to discuss with Valyghar Corthala, but it was his own. A higher and much more melodious voice complimented the first speaker on his aptitude in diplomacy, to my surprise referring to him as a "wild goose". Grenel told them to proceed, overly emphasizing the code word. It meant that he trusted them.

Not relying on Grenel?s judgement, I made it into a smaller room, positioning myself so that the door will be between me and the two visitors, when opened. Katana and dagger at the ready I listened, as they entered. They were three, not two, by the sound of their steps.

"Corthala!" boomed out the owner of the gruff voice, who must have been their leader, "come out and talk." Then he hit the door hard, and it swung open, but nobody entered the room. Careful beasts, whoever they were.

"Corthala, someone employed me to bush into Cowlie?s bloody stronghold, and kidnap some stupid girl-mageling. I need another swordhand, that?s all."

They stood there, waiting. In a minute, he ordered them to disarm. I heard the weapons being put down on the floor. It did not mean, that when I came out there won?t be an archer training a bow at me, but I decided to challenge the fate. It did seem probable that someone with a grudge against Wizards would try to hire me. I needed money.

I stepped around the doorframe and almost dropped my dagger. They were the most peculiar group I have ever seen. Their leader was a knotted, tough-looking dwarf, with a mass of tangled hair and oily eyes. The way he stepped from foot to foot, made me think of a duck, rather than a wild goose. He was flanked by a lank male with elvish air about him. A *horned* lank male with bright blue hair, who indeed trained a short bow on me, until the dwarf slapped it impatiently away. The charmer flashed me a wide grin: "One can never be too careful." The third companion kept to himself. He looked meek and removed, and would not have attracted anybody?s attention, but for the cloak that covered him neck to toe. It was made entirely out of leaves. And he was a human, not an elf.

"You want to hire me?" I asked of the dwarf.

He spat on the ground and barked out a laughter: "Who? Me? Nay, not me. ?Twill be Lyddar, the flaming friend of the stupid girl, who casted a spell on the market square in Athkatla. Without permission." He spat again, demonstrating perhaps what he thought of such an act. "Got herself into Spellhold, so her soppy friend wants her out." I frowned. Spellcasting without a license was a serious offence, but why was it punished by an imprisonment in Spellhold?

" An outlander," the dwarf explained, taking my hesitation for bewilderment. "Does not know one cannot escape from Spellhold. But, she payed an advance, so I have to show some work fer her money. Need another tough. Hurts mine reputation to be seen in public with these two twits."

I looked at the dwarf and ta the "twits" and said: "The only payment I want, is that you help me to break into a magical Sphere that belongs to Lavok Corthala. My family is sworn to kill him. I intend to make -"

"Deal!" the dwarf interrupted me, "Call me Garth and do what I say, and we?d get along just fine." So it transpired, that I entered the service of Lyddar of Candlekeep for the promise of honoring my family?s wishes.

***************************************************************

I asked Lyddar once, why did she bother to seek me out, if she never intended to sell my neck in exchange for information about Imoen?s whereabouts.

"?Twas your name," Lyddar said ruffling my graying hair, as if I was but a boy. "Valygar Corthala. It sounds like a name of a hero. And, despite my bitterness against heroes then, secretly I desired one." I laughed, but I felt grateful that I was called by my mother and father Valygar Corthala. Rarely I liked answers to my questions, but this one I came to cherish.

Chapter 1. The Dwarf in the Forest

The great trees live for hundreds of years. The great forests ? for millennia. Their days run uncounted and unhurried. The buds grow fat, the leaves unwrap, and the needles grow darker and longer. After the petals fall, the green swellings form into berries, and turn merry red or yellow or orange, only to be killed by frosts and drop their seeds or to be eaten. Even the mightiest limbs dry out or rot to finally fall down on the mosses and turn to dirt. All forest creatures are involved in the eternal cycle of life and death, which is disturbed but slightly with the oddities, such as an early and warm spring, a forest fire, a drought or an intrusion of a dwarf under the lacework canopy.

Here he was, the troublemaker, making his way under the dome of branches, squinting unhappily at the timid patches of sunlight that weaseled their way in. A long bramble caught the dwarf?s rough pants, tripping him. Garth swung at the offender with his axe. The twisted green cane put up no resistance at all, and fell apart with a soft rustling sound under the horrendous force he?d put in the blow. Driven by the momentum the heavy weapon dig into the ground.

?THE BLASTED BLOODY FOREST!? Garth screamed, unable to contain the mounting irritation any longer. ?THE BLASTED BLOODY FOREST!?

For a dwarf, Garth was very tolerant of the forests. He was convinced, that all those groves and moors and glades were a great place for the Elves. Indeed, if one wanted to go dancing along the beast?s trails and singing with the birds or to do some such frivolous thing, a forest was indeed a blessed abode. For a man on a mission, such as Garth, who had to make to the point on a map as soon as possible, the forest was one endless and vicious trap of roots and branches and winding trails, running in all directions, but the one desired. The dwarf almost whimpered, mourning the halls and tunnels cut through the rocks just in the places when they were needed, either to follow a rich vein, or to make a passage and to ventilate.

Cernd looked at the dwarf, the mockery clear in his greenish eyes. Druids were as bad as Elves, even if they were Human. Garth considered all druids to be rounded-eared Elves for simplicity. Garth saw to that the only elf he?d hired, was not a pure-breed snooty whimpering thing. Though, of course, even fiendish blood could not quite make Haer?Dalis into a proper man. Even now, he was chuckling at Garth?s outburst. However, with a devilish wit, Haer?Dalis guessed that the dwarf was in a dangerous mood, and elegantly re-directed the taunt at Cernd: ?So, my deer running wild, how is it that you have not yet enlighten our fearsome leader on the account of natural wonders and?.?

Cernd?s eyes narrowed. He probably knew that he was fighting a lost battle. Haer?Dalis' tongue had dwarven stamina, but to the druid?s credit, he took up the fight anyway.

?The forests are the demonstration of the spirituality of nature," started Cernd, his face sour and feathers in his headset trembling. Garth guffawed and waved to the druid to shut down the fountain of natural and spiritual. However, just like the mountain streams in the spring, fed by melting virginal snows, Cernd was unstoppable. He carried on and on, about the ties between men and nature and of how every leaf and beast and bird...and stone (the later was likely added for Garth?s benefit) is manifested in all peoples.

Haer?Dalis, who looked sort of wilted when the rant reached its second uninterrupted hour, cheered up at the idea of birds and peoples being akin...until he concluded that Cernd was stealing his favorite poetical concept. Then he sulked again.

Garth was glad enough that his companions slowed down their progress through the forest due to the fact that Cernd was incapable of talking and walking at the same time.

And then Valygar returned.

From the look the ranger gave Garth, Cernd and Haer?Dalis, an observer unfamiliar with the four companions, could have concluded, that Valygar made it to Athkatla and back twice or trice, killing every foe imaginable, while the rest of the party enjoyed a peaceful sojourn in the forest. Valygar?s outward grimness was, however, rather a permanent thing, brought about by much earlier circumstances and happenings in his life, than traveling with Garth?s small band. To be completely fair, the ranger not always gazed with distaste. Garth has noticed a reserved lonely stare as well, but so far only campfire was subjected to it. It probably signified that the ranger enjoyed the moment of comfort and respite. The dark male gave Cernd a measured look and told him to shut up, afore he attracts attention of every bloodthirsty werewolf in the radius of twenty leagues.

?Valygar,? Cernd said quietly, ?you should know better than to frown while badmouthing the werewolves. They are the creatures that need guidance, not a blade in their guts.?

?Why is that?? Valygar sounded honestly interested.

?You see, I can change into a wolf form as well, but I do it on wish and I can return back to my human incarnation at any time,? Cernd replied, ?People, affected by lycanthropy, those, whom we consider unnatural monsters, do not do that. They do not have time enough to develop the understanding of their second nature, after being bitten. As a result, they have difficulty achieving balance between their human ?I? and the wolf that sprouts through their soul. The wolf blood is stronger and hungrier, so it devours its parent being. ?

Valygar nodded, as if it made perfect sense to him, and asked: ?But a lycanthrope does not become an ordinary wolf, is that true??

Cernd sighed: ?Unfortunately, in most cases, he does become an unnatural monster. The wolf-part feasts readily on the unfamiliar emotions and assimilates them. It throws aside what it does not understand, but it accepts the ability to kill without a natural purpose, such as sating hunger. If there was someone to educate them-?

?You think, you will be able to communicate with ?em, werewolves, and teach them..erm?balance?? Garth asked harshly.

?I can try,? Cernd replied eagerly, ?I was waiting for a chance to attempt such a thing-?

"Shapeshift," Garth ordered. It was a complicated a way to defeat a foe, but the stranger things has worked for Garth in the past. He was a clanless and desolate man, whose survival oft depended on quick thinking, as well as on his steady swordhand.

Haer?Dalis giggled and clapped his hands together: "Oh, please do!"

"Shapeshift? In front of this twit?? Cernd pointed at Haer?Dalis angrily. ?No way,"

Garth raised a reddish brow. "And why, I beg you, not?"

Cernd frowned, but it was Valygar, who shed some light on the druid?s sudden modesty: ?I won?t be undressing in front of the actor as well..."

The way he said "actor" was precious and would have been only beaten by the way Valygar said "mage", should a contest be held for the amount of contempt one could place into a single word. Since Haer?Dalis was the only person, who had knowledge of arcane magic in the party, he received the worst of the ranger?s black temper. The tiefling paid back regularly with taunts and jokes. Valygar laughed sometimes, but more often he succumbed to the fits of dark, unpleasant brooding. A couple of times Garth saw real anger welling into him, yet, he stayed his anger. Garth counted Valygar the most dangerous man in his band the very hour the ranger joined in.

"Shapeshift," Garth repeated, thinking that, perhaps, humans were almost as artful in finding the reasons to hate as dwarfs. Yet, he would not let the humans to out-stubborn him!

"I can turn away," Haer?Dalis offered graciously.

Cernd nodded his agreement. Valygar walked toward Haer?Dalis and firmly removed Entropy from his hands. A shiny blade it was, and its steel mirrored the grass and flowers, after Valygar dropped it on the forests floor. He waited out until Haer?Dalis made good on his word and undressed slowly. A number of reasons, why Galia actually wished to marry the druid, became obvious to Garth.

Cernd shut his eyes and the expression of the deepest concentration appeared on his face.
The druid?s whole body started twitching, as if in great pain, but he did not let out a single sound. Shaggy fur broke through the druid?s skin, growing longer and coarser by the moment. His limbs stretched out, his face contorted violently and grew into a maw and his already long nails curved into claws. When Cernd?s eyes opened again, the red glow replaced the soft greenish-brown shine of the druid?s human form. His snout jerked upwards and, finally, a hungry wail of a werewolf broke the dump silence of the forest. Then Cernd looked at Garth with frightfully intelligent and weary orbs. Garth was about to order everyone to move forward, when an even more terrible howl echoed Cernd?s call.

Garth tried to conceal the feeling of dread. Haer?Dalis remarked that the day was too fair to encounter a pack of werewolves. Valygar shrugged and loosened his twin katanas in their scabbards. The ranger was generally of the opinion that monsters can be felled on a fair day with the same success as in the foul weather.

Without wasting time on banter, Garth moved closer to Valygar, barring the trail and clutching the dirt-stained axe excitedly. Cernd pushed his way between the two heavy-set warriors, sniffing the air wearily. Haer?Dalis pulled the broadheaded arrows out of his quicker and put them in front of himself into the ground. He would be ready to lose, as soon as anything comes in sight.

The werewolves were not particularly fine enemies or even Garth?s favorite type of monster to convert into a pile of gore on the ground, but this one was exceptionally disappointing. It ran out on the trail, wailing and gesticulating wildly, teeth bared and claws glistening with blood. But the impressive look was deceiving, and the beast only glanced at their own Cernd, stopped wailing, turned around and ran back into the thicket.

Cernd went after it.

?Every day at the nature?s bosom brings us surprises,? Haer?Dalis commented promptly, plucking the arrows out and restocking his quiver. ?Who?d guess that werewolven maidens are as shy as gazelles, and that our pragmatic father of one can be so easily infatuated? Watch him to pursue her as a deer?.?

?Bard,? Valygar asked sternly, ?Are you blind? Gazelle? Deer? I see a couple of werewolves.?

?This is because you are unconscious of poetical entities,? the blue-haired bard replied with a cryptic smile and an overly patient smile. Garth grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from Valygar.

?I wager the she-wolf aren?t playing no mating game. She be trying to say something to Cernd,? Garth reasoned, squinting to see the two dark shapes between the boughs.

Valygar gave a curt nod: ?Garth is right. Cernd is waving us closer.?

Poetical mood left Haer?Dalis: ?It is a trap,? he whispered, ?The beasts decided to devoid the world of beauty.?

Garth coughed and spat on the ground: ?Meaning you??

Not that he minded overly much.

Haer?Dalis managed a dignified expression: ?You are certainly out of danger, Garth, should such a conspiracy be conceived. And Valygar...hmmm...he has a very peculiar type of beauty. It takes a lover of a ragged type to appreciate it. That does leave me.?

Valygar glared at the bard. Either he did consider himself attractive, or he never stopped glaring at the bard at all.

Hoping to dissolve the tension, Garth guffawed: ?You are right about meself.? Which was a simple truth.

Even by dwarven standards Garth was an unappealing exhibit. He stood no more than three and half feet and was almost as wide in his chest and way wider in the shoulders. Every muscle was visible on his knotted arms, rolling under his rough reddish skin, when he moved. On top of that he was covered by a flock of freckles. His legs seemed to stunt under the weight of the massive torso. And if anyone expected that a fierce and proud face compensated for the rest, he would have been likely to be disappointed.

Garth?s greasy face was round and smiley, his greasy flat lips were very pink, his greasy little eyes were very small, and his ever-red greasy cheeks were very plump. On top of that, he wore an odd homely expression even when he was chopping down enemies. His hair and beard were bright red in color, with the strikes of black, blue and green here and there (beads, dye or bands), and so intertwined and inter-braided that it ended up as one big blot, hardly fitting into an oversized helmet.

?You are incorrect, Haer?Dalis. If there is a trap, we all will fall into it,? Valygar announced stoically. Garth liked the human?s pragmatic approach.

?Speak for yourself!? Haer?Dalis was truly offended by the ranger?s comment. Garth wanted to ask Haer?Dalis, if he would go into a trap willingly and alone to prove his point about the conspiracy against beauty, but the conversation died down as the three companions stepped inside a small cave, and got reunited with their long-lost Cernd.

?Well, not truly long-lost. Five minutes... Five minutes without Cernd is an eternity. An eternity of peace and quiet?.? Garth pondered. It took more than Haer?Dalis opinion on his persona or the presence of the druid to ruin the dwarf?s spirit. A sight of the werewolf feasting on a fresh corpse did it.

Valygar was disgusted as well, may be even more than usual. He charged the murderous beast, but fortunately Haer?Dalis found the spectacle overwhelming and chose to faint. He fainted often and with gusto, this blue-haired actor. Valygar was caught of guard this time, and tumbled over the Tiefling?s lifeless body. Garth was less impeded with their gentle companion, so he approached the lady covered with shaggy fur and blood unhindered. Cernd extended his hand, and stopped Garth in his tracks. ?Listen?? hummed Cernd.

Garth obeyed. The rogue dwarf seldom obeyed a command, but he felt that the whole incident had more to it than the werewolf?s hunt.

People of Immensvale, who had commissioned the investigation, spoke of shadows and foul happenings in their village. Valygar was certain that some sort of evil magic was involved. However common the statement was, Garth trusted Valygar?s almost supernatural ability to feel when and where the arcane arts were misused and perverted.

Now Cernd indicated that the wolf might have a clue. Garth would listen. He could start a slaughter any minute.

The she-wolf spoke: ?Shadow Lord and his shadows killed my pack. I am the last one of the Blood. They turned everyone else into the cold, merciless shadows. Their kills make their army bigger. My pack...? She howled something, which Garth did not understand, but Cernd?s eyes watered. Then she spoke in Common again.

? I killed a man ? just one man - to feed and to become strong. I wish to avenge my pack, to destroy the Shadow Lord.?

?She is too desperate to lie,? Garth observed, trying to discern any false note, and finding none. Despite the torn corpse of a human man by her paws, Garth felt pity for the beast. It is sad to lose your pack. Or clan. He had a father and he had friends once. Five friends. They were all dead now or missing. Those with him now were chanced road companions and he did not want them to become more than that. If a dwarf does not have friends, he won?t lose them.

?Lady, I am charged with destroying whatever evil plugs this forest. Shadow Lord, you say? I will strike with you against it,? Garth tried his best to sound respectful, but even to himself he sounded stiff.

The pause lasted. Garth did not realize just how loud his voice would be under the dome of the cave. It carried too. Somewhere in the corner, the echo mocked him: ?against him?against him?? and then came the sound of the water dropping from a stalagmite into the invisible lake.

?But beware if you are fooling me!? Garth added quickly. The werewolf was a monster, despite her plight.

?fooling me?fooling me?? giggled the echo.

The werewolf widow nodded at last. ?There is an ancient Temple east from here,? she said quietly. ?It is the Shadow Lord?s seat now. Follow me and we shall strike together!?

She ran, no doubt following a trail, clearly visible to her sharp eyes. To Garth she simply disappeared into the impenetrable thicket.

?Lead, Cernd.? Garth commanded. ?And be hasty, lest the fool girl gets herself killed, before we arrive.?

They made their way cautiously through the darkening forest. It looked ominous. But then, so did all the forests.

Chapter 2. Trapped

Which tells of freeing Mazzy Fentan, the Truesword of Avoreen.

Garth has seen hundreds of traps in his days of lonely wandering. With time he learned to look at one and to understand the hand that build it. It was no different than masonry or shipbuilding or any other craft. More often than not he could discover the vital link within the structure, be it intricate or plain, which could be broken to safely release the forces stagnated within each trap in anticipation of murder. Garth always chuckled, when another snare fell apart, without getting him. Like a toothless snake they shut their mouth and hissed, staring at him with hollow eyes, full of hatred and helplessness.

The trap that was laid amidst the temple ruins had been as toothy as they come. And filled with hatred more reckless, than any living being can master in her soul. Unsurprisingly so, because the area around temple was swarming with living shadows. There was no weakness to this trap, as far as Garth could tell. Massacre is as simple as it is perfect. One can only escape slaughter by a caprice of Lady Luck, and she was clearly entertaining some green youth, leaving stalwart dwarf and his companions to their own devices. There were no way out.

The werewolf was already snarling, and fighting furiously with the misty forms. It was a desperate and righteous fight, the sort of thing that make many a coin to spill in a bard?s bonnet, when he sings by the hearth of a cozy inn. It was a pity, really, that Haer?Dalis was not to live to tell the tale.

The werewolf?s shrill voice got through the surrounding wall of deadly fog. She cried on top of her lungs of the ancient magic of light and of the mirror, she could not reach. And then she chocked on her own blood and a terrible silence fell upon the dark forest. The shadows closed in, to grab the poor beats soul and to turn her into their own semblance.

Using the terrible pause, Garth looked about. Perhaps, Lady Luck grew bored with her young protégée, or perhaps Selune noticed their plight.

A thin ray of moonlight reflected off the dusty surface. It had to be the mirror! Or they might as well cut their own throats. A large twisted frame, more than twice taller than Valygar and more than four times taller than Garth, was half-buried in a pile of rubbish. Once, it might have been a portcullis. Then it, no doubt turned into picturesque ruins adorned by ivy and moss. Alas, now it was but an ugly gray form, but its surface still came aglow with the scarce light. Magic lived, the magic of light in that accursed and defiled place. Garth did not go onto his knees. Some graces are meant to be given by actions. The dwarf hefted his axe and snarled.

The monsters lost their interest in the fallen woman and turned towards the companions.


?Bah, those shadows can dance prettily, but I wager that I am the better dancer!? Haer?Dalis exclaimed excitedly and ran to meet the pack of shadows ahead of Garth.

?The poet is going to get himself ripped apart just like the werewolf friend of ours,? Valygar grumbled.

?Then go see, that he will not come to an untimely end! Cernd and I shall take care of the mirror,? Garth answered in a matching grumpy tone.

The dwarf was irked. It took only a half-glance at the ecstatic bard engaging shadow after shadow in a deadly minuet, to see that layers of blush and mascara hid a face of a true warrior. And a true warrior was something Garth could not help but admire. Of cause, the blade fought with two ridiculous short swords, not a sturdy weapon like an axe or a hammer?but he did fight valiantly. The faux fainting spells and shows of gentle heart and gentle stomach were forgotten. The bard was fearsome over sudden, and even his ridiculous hair took on a more manly shade of blue in the moonlight.

?Would I have to boot Haer?Dalis out as well as Valygar?? dwarf pondered, true to his strategy of forbidding himself to respect and befriend his companions. ? Is there no person in the realms that I do not come to like after traveling with him or her for a while?? Garth put his frustration into the strike of his axe, cutting through an unfortunate shadow, dividing it into two dirty rags. He had no time for Valygar and Haer?Dalis just now.

Chopping and grunting, Garth managed to keep a weary eye on Cernd. It was not a difficult task. The druid?s body, transformed into seven feet of hairy flesh, appeared all too solid and real, like a ship in the ocean of fog. He sailed, parting the waves of his transparent attackers towards the beacon of the mirror. The werewolf yelled in triumph and turned the ancient glass. Now it faced the way it had been facing for thousands of years, towards the raising sun. The light gathered and multiplied by the shining surface was strong, beautiful, and filled with the forgotten glory and power of Amanuator. It was deadly to his foes. One by one, the shadows burnt, as they tried to reach for Cernd and for the killing mirror.

However, the battle was not won yet. The relatively easy passage Cernd got to the mirror was dearly bought. The majority of the shadows were swirling around Valygar and Haer?Dalis. The divine enchantment destroyed the monsters closest to Garth and Cernd, but the ranger and the bard were too far away from the blessed light and their enemies did not diminish in number. A double or triple ring of enemies surrounded Valygar and Haer?Dalis, who fought with their backs pressed against each other. Should the circumstances be less grim, Garth would chuckle. But for now, he only regretted his earlier wish to part with both men and noted that the circle of shadows around the two companions was so thick, that at least half of them could not land a successful strike.

Garth gestured to Cernd to sit tight by the mirror, and charged the snarling shades, making a passage for Valygar and Haer?Dalis to escape. Those two stood their ground, yet Garth could see blood on his companions, the red blood of humans, not the disgusting jellied greenish-gray liquid oozing from the wounds of the undead.

Garth never knew if that was a fighter?s sixth sense, or the ranger?s keen hearing, but Valygar half-turned his head between desperate parries, and saw Garths? handywork. Immediately he shoved the light-weight tiefling in the direction of the clearing. The bard, frenzied by the battle was not willing to leave the battlefield and Garth who finally was within reach, did the same, adding a smashing kick and yelling: ?Run for the mirror, it WORKS!? Haer?Dalis obeyed.

The ring of enemies closed around Garth and Valygar. Together, they started fighting their way toward the mirror, letting the shadows to land hits on them, for the sake of few crawling steps. It seemed like hours before they finally crossed the line of twilight, and joined Cernd and Haer?Dalis.

Cernd came up immediately to heal Garth, but the dwarf motioned him impatiently toward Valygar: ?I gather the human needs it more than I,? and walked over to the dark hole amidst the rubbles. He approached it cautiously watching the ground for any sign of hidden wires or misplaced pebble?but found none. Unsatisfied, he crouched and made a few passes with his hands feeling for any warmth or tingling of magical energy. The opening emanated but deathly cold and emptiness. Garth could see the first few steps of the spiral staircase, leading to what once were crypts under the temple. The dwarf scratched his beard and studied the surroundings carefully. The forest overtook the good part of the temple. The trees did not root only in a small octagonal area paved with heavy plates of black slate with the mirror in its center. The grass was more successful however, bristling in between the stones. There were letterings on the plates ones, and sheet brass ornaments, mainly of sun disks, surrounded by rays, but some were, perhaps, that of robed men and women.

?The layer must be inside, Garth. I have seen them pouring from out of the cracks in the ground,? Valygar said right over the dwarves ear. Garth almost growled at the ranger for sneaking up on him.

?The gravestones?, Garth thought dully, and shifted uncomfortably. There were little he could do to honor the dead though. ?You will like us to save those who live on your land now?? he said quietly, and then switched his attention to Valygar: ?I recon, ye have the right of it, ranger. Aren?t too much hiding spots amongst the ruins, and the undead have more love for crypts than for the forests.

?Is the entrance trapped?? Valygar asked urgently, peering into the deep, as if his weak human eyes could see through the darkness.

?Only by this-? Garth lifted to his feet and tried to move aside one of the plates that someone had ripped out of the ground and moved over to shut off the entrance. It seemed that either those who had done it, have abandoned their work before finishing or if a previous intruder had discovered it earlier and tried to gain an entry.

?Merella,? Garth thought, but the little girl in the village said that Merella was abducted, not ventured toward the temple on her own. And the opening was way too small for a half-elf to fit through.

?Mazzy Fentan,? Valygar said aloud, what Garth was mouthing silently. Fentan was a Halfling, and the size was just right. There was no need to acknowledge Valygar?s words, so Garth did not, and instead he dug his heals into the ground and pushed at the plate with all of his strength. It gave, but grudgingly. Garth panted and cringed. Suddenly the movement became easy and at the same instant Garth noticed the pair of sure dark hands by his.

When Garth straightened from his task, Valygar was already walking down the stairs, his back pressed against the wall, and the katana at the ready. His movement was so smooth and quite, that even Garth who watched him closely, noticed not how he merged with the darkness. Before he fully disappeared into the shadows, the ranger glanced up at Garth. The dwarf did not like a single bit that level, contemplating look.

?What are ye standing around here for?? he muttered at Haer?Dalis and Cernd, and, without waiting for a reply, started down the staircase. Garth looked back only once, to see the patch of magical light behind him. It was wide open, just as they left it, sharp and bright against the unnatural darkness of the staircase, and yet Garth felt as if the jaws of a trap closed behind him, cutting them off from the waking word. His suddenly damp palms gripped tighter to the handle of the axe.

It surprised Garth to see that the chamber where the staircase spilled them into was dimly lit, until he remembered Valygar?s mention of the cracks. They, perhaps, were hidden windows and secret shafts, that in the days of Amunator?s full glory conducted the sunlight to the worshipers attending their dead or to the priests going around whatever business they had in the catacombs. Garth sighed with relief, thanking the builder for his ingenuity. The dwarf had already enlisted the magic light as his ally and was glad that they did not completely lose its support.
Ahead of them, in the silvery dimness, three shadows of lean wolves made circles around a pile of bones, snapping at each other soundlessly and recoiling from each-others attacks. The shadow wolves stopped in their tracks and the three snarling maws turned towards Garth as on a command, in a short precise movement. All three glided across the hall, in a single-minded frontal assault, with disregard to the odds, which would have made a real wolf to hide and stalk until he saw an opportunity for the kill. A real wolf might have succeeded, but the shadows died one by one, ripped apart by the sharp weapons.

When it was over, Garth kneeled by the pile of bones, the shadow wolves were fighting over. At the first glance at the scull, he thought it was dwarven, so wide and bulky was the forehead, but the rest of the bones were fine and small.

?A child,? Cernd said softly. ?A human child.? The druid?s voice trembled and only then the dwarf realized, that Cernd had abandoned the werewolf?s form. Cernd had a young son hidden away in a Druid?s Grove by Trademeet, but, perhaps, for a father no place is safe, unless he is there.

Awkwardly, Garth took a cloak out of his pack and wrapped the bones in it. ?It aren?t proper to leave it on the floor like that. If we make it, we?d burry him, if we won?t, at least he?d have a company,? he explained gruffly to his companions.

In silence, the party searched the hall, but it was empty and there was nothing for it but to continue exploring the catacombs. The only exit from the hall opened into a narrow corridor. They walked its length slowly, in a single file, awaiting for an ambush every minute. Still, the shadow of a thin man sprung at them as if out of nowhere, crying for reinforcements.

It fought urgently and fiercely, flailing at Valygar with a smoky fist and clawing at him with its second hand. Garth remembered wondering about that, before more than a dozen monsters floated to the first attacker?s help. The shadows surrounded its victims in one wavy mass, and at any moment someone?s wet, ghostly fingers protruded from it and went for the living flesh. Garth knew that it was only a matter of time before a man gets overwhelmed by exhaustion and weakness from the wicked wounds these grey claws left. The dwarf gritted his teeth, chopping at the grayness steadily and trying not to think of the liquid that oozed into his eyes. One of the fiends must have opened skin on his forehead and the cold, dark fluid was his own blood, changed by the cursed touch.

In the frightful silence of the battle, the ringing of metal on the stone floor was so loud, it echoed off the walls. It was a large rusted key that made the noise.

?That?s what the first shadow clutched in his fist,? Garth guessed. Valygar dived to pick the key up, and once he got a hold of it, the shadows broke and fled, wailing for help. ?The Lord?s Consort,? they yelped and hissed, ?Come here to defend the Lord?s Consort.?

The three companions regrouped to shield Valygar from the expected attack. Hurriedly, the ranger inserted the key into a keyhole at the nearest door, and tried to turn it. The muscles on his forearms tightened, and his face grew hollow, as if his internals were being sucked out of him.

Cernd dropped a bandage, that he tried to fix on Haer?Dalis? thigh and gripped onto Valygar?s shoulders, trying to pull him away from the door. Garth swung his axe to cut at Valygar?s wrists, as the ranger?s fingers seemed to be melting into one gray whole with the key and the door, when it suddenly gave and opened with such a force that both Valygar and Cernd went flying to the opposite wall. Garth?s axe cut through the air, descending, and the dwarf tumbled through the doors into a small chamber.

A tiny woman sat cross-legged on the floor, her two small chubby hands placed on her knees, palms facing upwards. A short blade laid flat on her hands, in a precise equilibrium. A single breath, it seemed to Garth, will make its leather wrapped grip to outweigh the metal. The halfling?s eyes were closed, and her face serene.

It took Garth no more than a split second to observe the scene, before the woman came into motion. With an inconceivably small push the blade did swing, but against Garth expectation, its grip flew upward, right were a trained hand caught it and smoothly pointed it toward the door. The woman took a battle stance, not opening her eyes.

Garth coughed. ?Me name is Garth. I am a dwarf and came to this place to uproot whatever nests her, so that the villagers of Immensvale could live without fear.?

The Halfling?s eyes flew open. They were greenish-yellow and very sharp. The woman eyed Garth up and down and nodded in approval: ?Well met, Master Garth. I am Mazzy Fentan, the Truesword of Avoreen, and I have arrived to these warrens of evil with my companions to do the same task. Shall we join forces??

?Are there any more of your people around?? Garth asked hopefully.

Mazzy?s face grew sad. ?Oh, they are all around still, but no more than perversion of their former selves. I was only spared so that the Shadow Lord could take over my body once he corrupt the one he occupies currently.?

They stood a moment in silence to give the dead due respect, after which Garth returned to the discussion of the matters at hand.

?You sure may join me, lassie, but there aren?t much fun in what I does. I was hired to rescue some silly lass from Cowled Wizards.?

Mazzy Fentan simply nodded her acquiescence to participate in the hopeless venture and looked askance over Garth shoulder. No matter how small, the Halfling was taller than the dwarf.

?Those three useless pups are my own hirelings,? Garth explained, following Mazzy?s gaze. ?The blue-headed beauty is Haer Dalis, the sullen guy is Valygar and the feathered boy is Cernd. Welcome to our company, Mazzy.?