Fairris’s knee high leather boots made no sound on the smooth dark corridors as she followed Jar’nesh and Ty’far. Jar’nesh was in the lead, holding a burning torch above her head and causing the orange glow to flicker through the darkness.

Three days out of Pentra they had come across the broken ships of Nevārance on the Morrow Plains. Much of them had crumbled but they still stood tall and embedded in the earth. Fairris’s companions had immediately suggested that they have a look inside them for anything of use, but so far they had found nothing.

Fairris looked around in wonder as she followed Ty’far through the grey metal hallways, everything seemed cold and hard to her. It was a remnant from the mechanical and technological continent of Nevārance and so strange to Fairris.

Jar’nesh and Ty’far had told her some of their world and culture, but not enough to make her feel comfortable as they walked through the passageways.

“I told you the automated doors would have locked,” Ty’far remarked as they walked along.

Fairris looked at the large rectangular recesses that lined the hallway with strange glass panels beside them.

“I was hoping some would have jarred open,” Jar’nesh shrugged.

They came to a junction and Jar’nesh turned left without hesitation. Fairris glanced down the other dark corridor, her sense of direction completely lost on this strange craft.

“And I told you that even if they had our kin would have gathered everything of worth already,” Ty’far replied.

Fairris breathed a sigh of relief as they came into a large chamber with a wide ramp leading out of the ship and back onto the Morrow Plains. Their horses stood waiting for them, seeming unnerved by their surroundings and the coming night.

Before them, across the plains and on the bank of Lake Ire much evidence of the battle remained with scattered white bones of the dead and rusting armour and weapons. The skulls of the dead starred up at the evening sky their pale teeth smiling in a macabre way as maggots ate their way through the flesh that remained attached to the bone. A heavy air of malice hung around the battlefield and stifled any fresh breeze that tried to run across the plains.

A chill ran up Fairris’s spine as a cold trickle of rain found its way under her top, but there was something more to this area then the cold she felt in the rain and air. Battlefields were a prime place for monsters to gather, and was also a place where the veil between this world and the Abyss was thin. This was why many people claim to see ghosts in places where there have been mass deaths.

“It will be dark soon,” Jar’nesh remarked, “We might as well make camp here. Perhaps up in the ship, I don’t really care for getting wet in this rain. Do you think it will snow tonight?”

“It’s cold enough,” Ty’far shrugged, “But I don’t think the horses will like it in the ships.”

“Let them stay in the rain then,” Jar’nesh replied.

“I don’t think we should stay the night here,” Fairris said as she calmed her nervous horse. “Old battle grounds are not pleasant places at night.”

“Ghouls won’t trouble us,” Ty’far smiled.

“It is not ghouls that worry me,” Fairris replied seriously.

“I didn’t think you would be concerned with children’s horror stories,” Ty’far laughed, “Come now Fairris, nothing can kill us three.”

Fairris smiled distantly, Jar’nesh’s comment made her think of Lieut.

Jar’nesh and Ty’far gathered their things from the saddle bags and tried to lead the horses up the ramp and into the ship, but they would not go and whinnied and danced around until they gave up. Reluctantly Fairris left the horses at the bottom of the ramp and followed her companions into the cover of the large chamber.

Having no fuel for a fire they relit the two torches they had and sat down on the cold ground with cloaks around their shoulders. Still having the extra-dimensional pouch that Vythe had given her Fairris was able to carry large amounts of traveling goods and items without it being heavy, so their meal was not that poor. But her magicks had all but disappeared so she could not cast any spells to keep her or her companions warm.

“Ty’far, what did you mean when you said automated doors?” Fairris asked after they had finished eating.

Ty’far glanced to Jar’nesh before answering.

“They work automatically,” Ty’far shrugged, “Using electricity they open by themselves as someone approaches, and close when they leave.”

“What is electricity?” asked Fairris curiously.

“Well,” Ty’far began, finding it hard to find the words to say, “I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“In a way it is like your Fog,” Jar’nesh cut in, “It is a source of power, but cannot be used to cast magicks. When channelled it makes things work, like lights. You know how your crystal lights work, it’s similar to that.”

Fairris brow furrowed as she tried to comprehend what Jar’nesh was saying.

“So that is how your people made these ships land over here?”

“Not really,” Jar’nesh shook her head, “The internals of this ship run on electricity, but they are launched by a type of controlled and sustained explosion which catapults this ship into the air. This is why they cannot be used to return to Nevārance.”

Fairris nodded slowly, still not really understanding the intricacies.

“Look at that,” Ty’far said suddenly and jumped to her feet pointing out onto the Morrow Plains. “What is it?”

Both Fairris and Jar’nesh got to their feet and peered into the night. Jar’nesh gasped as a small ball of Fog drifted up from the ground, a colourful tail floating behind it as it slowly moved into the rainy sky. As the first one drifted up many more began to follow, lighting up the night all the way to the bank of Lake Ire. The light from the wisps bathed a large area in a soft glow and illuminated their nervous horses.

“Just wisps,” Fairris shrugged, “They happen in places where a lot of deaths have occurred, like battlefields. They are harmless as far as I know.”

Jar’nesh let out a small laugh, “You might find our electricity odd Fairris, but I find this land truly scary sometimes.”

“But beautiful as well,” Ty’far added softly as she watched the wisps in wonder.

A shadow moved among the wisps and a mournful groan echoed across the grass. The horses whinnied in fear, and breaking loose they bolted into the night. Fairris moved to chase after them, but she stopped herself knowing it was no use, they had gone.

Fairris cursed quietly and returned to her companions, who were still looking out at the Fog wisps.

“Whatever Necrophiend that was here has left as well,” Jar’nesh said, squinting into the night.

“Probably to eat the horses,” Ty’far remarked grimly.

Fairris cursed quietly again and sat down on the cold floor of the ship.

The night passed quietly with no other threats and by morning the wisps had disappeared, but the drizzly cold weather remained. They left the campsite early and soon the tall ships were nothing but black dots in the distance. Sadly they came across the corpses of two of their horses that had run away and now lay half eaten in the mud, one was Fairris horse. Fairris sighed sadly as they left the bloated forms and continued on their trek. Now that they had moved away from the battlefield they started to see more animals around the plains.

A flock of Chokine: the horse sized chook-like animals that lived on the Morrow Plains, moved about near the bank of Lake Ire. The large birds pecked at the ground and scratched up the turf with powerful feet. The rooster of the flock strutted about, his mohawk plumage a bright blue which contrasted with the grey of the rest of his feathers. The rooster squawked loudly, alerting the flock to a hunting pack of lions that were moving through the pale blue grass of the plains. The pack’s blue-grey fur streaked with gold granted them excellent camouflage, but the Chokine knew what to look for and the rooster hurriedly lead his flock away.

A few days passed as they trudged across the rainy plains without any problems, they once came dangerously close to a pride of the horse sized lions and Fairris looked in awe at the huge male as he lounged on a rock, the rain drops balling on his glorious blue and gold mane.

But that was the most exciting event during their trek, the rest of the time they trudged along pulling their cloaks tighter around their shoulders to ward of the Winter chill.

“This place reminds me of the road to Marin’cath back home,” Ty’far remarked one night as they huddled under the outcrop of some rocks.

“Do you miss Nevārance?” Fairris asked.

Ty’far shrugged, “Sometimes I do, but then I remember the barren desolation of it all.”

“Is all of Nevārance barren?”

“Not all,” Ty’far shook her head, “Only Kor’vir, the northern realm where we are from. In Kor’vir only the cities are considered a paradise.”

“The southern realm, Syn’is, is not so barren,” Jar’nesh added, “But it is becoming such. Though the rebels fight hard and have been gaining much support.”

“How come none from Nevārance have come looking for you?” asked Fairris, “I keep expecting to see more crafts plummet through the sky.”

“No doubt they are wondering,” Jar’nesh replied, “But those crafts were extremely expensive to build. Not likely we will see any in the near future.”

“Not at all with Thor’din as Steward,” Ty’far remarked, “He has the rule to himself, not likely he will actively try aid the return of our High King.”

Fairris was surprised, “Gar’lin is the High King, right? I still find it hard to believe that a King would lead such an invasion.”

“Such is our culture,” Ty’far replied with a shrug, “We are Warriors, all of us.”

The next day they found some luck and quite unexpectedly three horses came trotting up them. In the lead was a noble stallion with blue-grey coat and intelligent eyes, Fairris recognised the stallion immediately.

“Squall,” Fairris greeted as the stallion came to her, “I am glad to see you alive.”

“You know that horse?” Ty’far asked in surprise.

Fairris nodded, “Squall was my friend Vythe’s horse. He was lost to us after we joined Baelor’s army and marched into battle.”

“A smart horse,” Jar’nesh remarked as she moved to the other horses that had followed Squall.

“Vythe used to say that he was too smart for his own good,” Fairris smiled and stroked Squall’s nose.

The third horse that had come was in fact Ty’far’s original horse and still carried the saddle and packs.

“I hope you won’t go bolting on me like you did the other night,” Ty’far said sternly to the horse as she gathered the reins and swung into the saddle.

Fairris agilely jumped onto Squall’s high back, completely comfortable with riding without a saddle, but Jar’nesh did not seem to have the same confidence. The Nevārancien managed to climb on the horse’s back, but as they started out Jar’nesh’s inexperience was showing.

“Perhaps we could go back and get a saddle of one of the dead horses,” Jar’nesh said as she struggled to stay atop the animal. 

“Too far,” Ty’far was quick reply, her amusement obvious.

“You will get used to it,” Fairris reassured her companion, “Hold on with your knees and calves, and imagine you are a sack of grain. Don’t worry about the lack of reins the horse will know where to go.”

Jar’nesh tried to follow Fairris’s guidance, but it was clear she was having trouble. Fairris and Ty’far kept the pace slow so they would not leave their companion behind, or cause her to fall off.

A few days later they moved through The Pass of Karadon, leaving the Morrow Plains behind them. By now Jar’nesh seemed to be getting used to riding without a saddle and they could travel at a faster pace. A day later the clouds had disappeared and blue skies shone overhead, the land was flat and grassy with many small forests further towards the Amber Mountains to the east, and rolling downs to the west. That evening they came to the town of Gerwill that sat on the edges of the Nārill Forest.

Two guards with tall halberds blocked their path as they came to the small wall that surrounded the town.

“We don’t need your sort here Grey Company,” the first guards said commandingly.

“We are just looking for a bed for the night,” Jar’nesh replied with a sigh.

“Times are bad enough without your sort,” the first guard snapped.

“Hold up Dyck,” the second guard spoke up, “Maybes they can help with that problem we is got.”

Dyke looked at the second guard and stroked his chin.

“Maybes they can,” Dyke nodded slowly, “You aren’t half as dumb as you look Windle. Alright you three can go through, but I got me eye on you. Head to the mayors house afore you go to the tavern, he’ll want a word. His house is straight up the main road and left at the square. You can’t miss it.”

The two guards moved aside and let them move though the gap in the wall and into the town. Muddy roads led the way past many small houses and other paths to a small square with a gallows at its centre. Hanging from nooses at the gallows were three unlucky victims, all of them Valenthōr. On a plank of wood that hung around the necks of each of the dead read in large black letters: Ravens.

Fairris sighed to herself already guessing what job the mayor might have for them.

Moving from the square they soon found the mayors grandiose house that stood in stark contrast to the rest of the town’s poorly buildings. As they dismounted from their horses a tall thin man came striding out of the building and towards them.

“Grey Company,” the tall man greeted with a smile, “I have long for the day someone with your skills would come through Gerwill. I am Addar Van Elmar the mayor of this humble township. Would you kindly join me for supper?”

Fairris looked to her companions who shrugged and they followed the tall man back into the house.

“Servant, bring us food and drink,” Addar Van Elmar shouted as they walked into the dining room. “Please have a seat.”

As Fairris took her seat the young servant hurried back carrying a large tray of food in one hand and a jug of wine in the other. After she laid out the tray and poured the mayor a drink she left the room quickly and quietly.

“I suppose you saw those damn elves hanging from the gallows,” Addar began, his large watery eyes moving to each of the travellers and lingering on Fairris. “Banditry is a crime in this land, yet they call themselves The Ravens, the Dun Kār and believe it makes them different to all the rest.”

“You seem to be killing them just fine without our help,” Fairris said angrily, “Why do you need our services?”

Addar smiled, “Straight to business, I like that, and you.”

Fairris stopped herself from punching the man in the face and looked away.

“You’re right we can handle the Ravens,” the mayor continued, “But something else has come along, something dark. The villages say it fights for the Ravens, but I’m not so sure.”

“A monster?” Ty’far asked, a bored expression on her face.

“Indeed, a monster,” Addar replied dramatically. “The terrible sort of monster.”

“What is it?” asked Jar’nesh, also bored.

The mayor shrugged and shook his head, “Don’t know, no one has really seen it. But I’ll tell you it must be some kind of vampire.”

Fairris scoffed.

“Don’t believe me?” Addar smiled thinly, “Think we humble villages don’t know the evidence of a vampire when it is right in front of our eyes? Well I’ll tell you what happened.”

“Make it quick,” Ty’far cut in, “Your hospitality is starting to bore me.”

The mayor sneered and nodded his head slowly.

“It was around the start of the month it began to happen,” Addar Van Elmar began, “Just after the full moons. The elves of Nārill Forest started becoming more aggressive and attacking some hunters in the woods. So being a good mayor I sent a party of guards into Nārill to quell the uprising, but they were ambushed. Not by Wood Elves though, by something hideous. The only survivor described the monster in terrifying vividness. Oily black hair and pale skin, with eyes as red as blood, the monster had two fangs that it could retract at will. Lightning fast it moved through the trees, and as strong as a giant. We thought he was making it up, as no doubt you think I am, but then we found the victims, within the town’s walls no less. Their limbs had been ripped apart, innards thrown about the ground and their blood sucked dry through two punctures on the neck.

“Folk believed the guard’s tale then, let me tell you, they started wearing garlic cloves around their necks and smearing lambs blood on their doors. But I wasn’t convinced. But I am now, you want to know why? I will tell you.

“Not long after the massacre in our town we found a young woman with two punctures at her left breast, but she wasn’t dead. Not believing the vampire tales her family took her home and laid her in bed to look after her. The girl did not wake right away, the colour never returned to her skin, and when the moons were full again she awoke and sucked her family’s blood dry before disappearing into the woods. Two other girls followed the first.

“Believe me now?” the mayor finished and took a long drink from his cup.

“No,” Fairris replied dully, “This vampire was probably nothing more than a Valenthōr wearing makeup and casting illusionary magicks. And these girls you speak of were likely just poisoned, I can think of several plant poisons that could cause the girls to act as such.”

Addar smiled confidently, “I was not finished yet. Those Ravens you saw hanging were questioned thoroughly by me before they went to the noose. One of them told me of the vampire, referred to it as Darna ün. I don’t speak elven but everyone knows that a Darnarn is a type of vampire. What do you think now ladies?”

“I think it is nonsense,” Ty’far huffed, and Jar’nesh agreed.

But a sudden concern came to Fairris’s mind upon hearing the name the Valenthōr had spoken.

“You want us to kill this vampire I assume,” Fairris said, causing he companions to regard her curiously.

“I knew it,” Addar laughed triumphantly; “I knew it was a vampire. Those old stories always have a shred of truth to them. Yes, I want you to kill it, and if you do your purses will be lined with plenty of gold.”

“We require an advance,” Ty’far remarked, stealing the mayor’s smile.

“How much?” Addar asked suspiciously.

“A quarter of the bounty,” Ty’far replied, “To pay for preparations.”

Addar Van Elmar grumbled something and nodded before pulling a purse violently from his belt and tossing it onto the table.

Ty’far quickly counted the contents and nodded to Jar’nesh and Fairris.

“You had best be worth it Nevāranciens,” the mayor grumbled, “If I were you I would wait until tomorrow, everyone knows that vampires cannot stand day light.”

Fairris stood up from the table as did her companions and bid the mayor good night before leaving the house and heading for the tavern. There they rented a three bed room and ordered a meal before taking a seat and listening to the young woman who played the flute pleasantly by the fire.

“Is it a vampire Fairris?” Jar’nesh asked sceptically as they ate their meal.

“I doubt it,” Fairris shook her head.

“Then why take the contract?” Ty’far inquired.

“It is likely just some Valenthōr trying to scare the townsfolk into moving away from their land,” Fairris shrugged, “But I have the feeling that something more is going on around here. And the name the Valenthōr said to the mayor: Darna ün, concerns me.”

“What does it mean?” Jar’nesh asked.

“Cursed one.”

Both Jar’nesh and Ty’far also seemed to become curious and the rest of their meal was finished in silence. The night drifted by and the tavern became more crowded, many of the folk giving Fairris and her companions wary looks. Curiously Fairris noticed that the mayor had also joined the locals at the tavern and was enjoying a drink with them as they all watched the young flutist who was performing.

Soon it became late and the young woman stopped playing the flute and took her leave. The mayor soon left after that and the tavern became empty, Fairris and her companions were just moving to get some sleep when a chilling scream sounded from outside.

Quickly Fairris darted from the tavern with Jar’nesh and Ty’far close at her heels. Lights of the houses flickered on and many more people came rushing onto the street. The cries continued to echo into the night until Fairris found the source. A young woman knelt crying beside the body of the flutist who had been playing in the tavern earlier.

“Damn vampire,” an older man spat, “Why isn’t mayor doing anything?”

“He is you old fool,” snapped an elderly woman who was consoling the crying girl, “Why do you think the Grey Company are here?”

“Why didn’t you Nevāranciens do anything?” shouted one man from the group who had gathered.

“We got here the same time you did,” Ty’far snapped at the man.

Fairris ignored the following jeers from the crowd and knelt down beside the flutist. Clearly upon her left breast were two puncture marks and a dribble of blood. The woman’s skin was pale and her lips blue, cautiously Fairris looked for any other wounds, but there were none, not even any defensive wounds. A thought came to Fairris’s head and she bent low and sniffed near the puncture marks at the breast. The scent of Shadow Leaf filled her senses and concern etched her thoughts.

“I don’t see you lot doing anything to protect yourselves,” Jar’nesh snapped angrily to another of the villagers.

“We’re are simple folk, not warriors, what do you expect us to do?” a villager asked back.

Using the distraction Fairris subtly pulled dagger from her belt and pricked the finger of the flutist drawing a bright drop of blood. The sight concerned her even more but she had no further time to investigate for the guards had arrived along with mayor Addar Van Elmar.

“I feared it might happen again,” the mayor lamented and Fairris stood up from the body, “Take this poor soul away and kill her before she can turn.”

“No!” the still crying woman wailed.

“Wait if you will mayor,” Fairris spoke up, “Have the girl taken to her home and cared for.”

“Do you not recall my tale?” Addar balked, “She will kill them when she wakes.”

“That will not be for a few weeks yet,” Fairris cut in, “This vampire of yours will be dead before then. Its blood will reverse the curse on this girl.”

The mayor nodded and smiled, “Very well, but I will not risk the lives of the villagers. Have her taken to the dungeon, so if she does wake she will kill no one. You had best hurry Nevāranciens.”

“We will be finished by morning,” Fairris said confidently and strode from the alleyway with Ty’far and Jar’nesh close behind.

“Do you think it wise that we hunt it tonight?” Jar’nesh asked curiously as Fairris led the way to the town gates.

“It is no vampire,” Fairris replied, “That girl had been poisoned to make it look as if she had been bitten, and I would dearly like to know why the Valenthōr of Nārill are doing such things.” 

They left the village and soon the darkness of the forest of Nārill was around them. Fairris had no problem following the narrow hunting trails through the trees and her companions did their best to keep up with her. As they moved further into the trees small clouds of Fog began to drift about, offering some light for Jar’nesh and Ty’far. The twin moons rose and sent a silver light through the leaves and caused the clearings to glow beautifully.

“So, was the guard’s tale a lie?” Ty’far asked over the noise of crickets.

“No,” replied Fairris, “Such devastation can be done through magicks, which many of the Elder Races can still use proficiently.”

“What of this cursed one the Wood Elf spoke of?” asked Jar’nesh, concern in her voice.

Fairris did not know, so she did not reply, but it worried her deeply.

“I can tell you.”

Fairris stopped in her tracks and spun around, her gunblades hissing from their sheaths. Jar’nesh and Ty’far also drew their weapons and looked around the trees for whoever spoke.

“It is not that complicated really,” the cold voice spoke again.

Fairris continued to look about the dark trees in search of the voice, but even her heighten elven sight could not find it.

“Show yourself,” Jar’nesh growled into the darkness, her sword at the ready.

There came a rustle of wind and a dark cloud seemed to move through the branches.

“As you wish.”

Fairris turned quickly in the direction the voice had come from to see a Valenthōr standing calmly in a shaft of moon light. But this Valenthōr’s hair was oily black, his skin almost translucent and his eye glowing red. Wearing only dark pants the elf seemed to glow in the silver light.

“Darna ün,” Fairris breathed in horror, her eyes wide.

“My name is Harthin,” the elf bowed, “The pleasure is mine I assure you. Tell me what are three of the Grey Company doing wondering the woods of the Valenthōr on a night like this? Mayor Addar Van Elmar hired you I presume, but know that you have no chance of killing me. For I am the Darna ün, the cursed one.”

“Clearly you have never faced a Warrior from Nevārance,” Ty’far smirked, her sword glowing in the moon light.

“Sheath your swords,” Fairris instructed her companions as she sheathed her gunblades.

“Are you mad Fairris?” Jar’nesh balked.

“Do it,” Fairris said more insistently, “If he wanted us dead we would already be so.”

Harthin smiled, “Listen to the Zirarien, she knows the horror that faces her.”

Jar’nesh and Ty’far gave Fairris curious glances but they slowly sheathed their weapons.

“Why are we not dead?” Fairris asked, her eyes fixed on the blood red orbs of the Darna ün.

“Because you do not know what you are doing,” Harthin replied.

Ty’far smirked, “Trust me, we have killed many monsters. We know what we are doing.”

A thin smile came across Harthin’s pale face, “Tell them what I am Zirarien.”

“He is a Valenthōr,” Fairris said turning to her companions, “A cursed Valenthōr. By his appearance it was a curse that turns the victim into a shade like creature that needs the blood of the living to survive, it doesn’t matter whether it is animal, human or elfin blood. Am I right Harthin?”

“Half way there,” the Wood Elf smiled.

“But Harthin is something more than that,” Fairris continued and the Valenthōr nodded. “Valenthōr do not usually curse one of their own, so why you Harthin?”

“These days are not usual,” the Darna ün shrugged, “But you are right Zirarien, that is my curse. But let me fill in what you do not know. Those of Gerwill have been cutting down our forest for years, calling us poachers on our own lands, cursing us when we go into their town. When the cry of the Dun Kār sounded we decided to take back our lands. We Valenthōr do not like senseless killing so we created me to drive the towns folk away, and it is working.”

“You volunteered to be cursed?” Fairris balked and Harthin smiled.

“If the curse is cast at the beginning of Winter when the night is black and the victim is of the Elder Race, that victim becomes something more, something darker. Something godlike,” Harthin voice began to rise and dark wisps drifted around him, “It creates a demon or saviour in elfin flesh, with powers beyond mortal understanding.”

“Which are you Harthin?” Fairris asked, “The demon or saviour?”

The dark wisps around the Darna ün vanished, “A saviour, but sometimes I wonder if the cost is greater than the gain.”

“You are no saviour,” Fairris shook her head, “What kind of saviour would harm innocent women and make the villages believe there is a vampire in these trees. You are no vampire, you may have the fangs, but you poisoned the young woman with Shadow Leaf extract that gives them the appearance of being dead for a long period of time in small amounts. And in greater amounts it causes them to go mad. You are a demon, not a saviour Harthin, for only a demon would do such things to innocents.”

The Valenthōr’s glowing red eyes narrowed.

Slowly Harthin pulled a small vial from the pouch at his belt and tossed it to Fairris. Catching the glass vial she cautiously looked at the pale green liquid and uncorked the top to sniff.

“Shadow Leaf extract,” Fairris sneered.

Harthin nodded, “You know your poisons. You should also know your antidotes. The poison from Shadow Leaf is a pale purple liquid, and its antidote a pale green.”

Fairris looked at the Darna ün in surprise, “This is the antidote?”

“I thought you three were more crazed girls wondering through the trees,” Harthin shrugged.

“You are not the supposed vampire?” Jar’nesh asked in surprise.

Harthin smiled, “Look at me, why would I need to pretend to be something else to scare the villagers away?”

Ty’far looked to Jar’nesh, “Then who is harming the girls?”

“I could tell you,” Harthin said, “But I think you know.”

“Addar Van Elmar, the mayor,” Fairris spat angrily and moved to head back to the town.

“Wait,” Jar’nesh said stopping Fairris, “This Harthin is still a monster, and we were hired to kill him. Despite how noble he might seem, the contract still needs to be finished.”

A cold laugh escaped Harthin’s pale lips and he spread his arms out wide. The dark wisps returned and floated around him, his red eyes glowing fiercely.

“You are welcome to try Warrior from Nevārance,” the Darna ün smiled cruelly, “But tell me, which monster deserves death more? Me, who fights for my land and kin, or the mayor who kills young woman because they will not have sex with him. Who uses fear to control the commoners. Who forces high taxes upon all so that he might live comfortably. Which of us is the true monster I wonder?”

Harthin did not wait for an answer and disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

Fairris had her answer to Harthin’s question and moved quickly back through the trees and into the sleeping town of Gerwill. Barely an hour had passed since they had left on the hunt for the Darna ün but the townsfolk had seemed to have gotten over the attack on the flute player and gone to sleep. Even the guard to the prison cells was asleep when Fairris moved swiftly through the doors and down the steps into the dungeon below the town wall. But as she came to dimly lit cells it was obvious that not all in the town were sleeping.

Fairris and her companions stopped in surprise to see the mayor heading towards the stairs. Addar also looked in surprise and glanced nervously over his shoulder. Fairris moved quickly past the stunned mayor and to the cell where the flute player was being held, but she was too late. Fairris’s heart sank as she saw the large pine stake sticking out of the girl’s chest. But her sadness and despair quickly turned to burning anger when she saw the girls dress had been pushed up and her underwear around her ankles.

Anger burned in Fairris so fiercely that she did not realise what she was doing until she had the mayor up against the bars of another cell with one of her gunblades pressed against his neck.

“You killed her,” Fairris growled.

“I could not take the risk that she would turn,” Addar stammered.

“There is no vampire you bastard,” Fairris snapped back through clenched teeth, “You poisoned the girls because they would not let you plough them and blamed it on a vampire in the woods. You sick, vile bastard, even now she is dead you desecrate her body.”

Fairris began to slide the razor sharp edge of her gunblade across the mayor throat causing a trickly of blood to flow.

“Think of what you are doing,” Addar whined, “Kill me and you all be hanged, the villagers will not believe you, nor will the Lords of Norrendōrel. You will be hunted like common bandits, never will you work again. Never again will anyone hire a party from the Grey Company, you will all be branded murderers you hear me.”

Fairris slowly drew back the blade from Addar’s neck and moved away from him.

“I assume the contract was not completed,” Addar Van Elmar said as he straightened his expensive clothes, “But I will pay you none the less, but only half. You three had best leave before the morning I think. Yes, that would be best. You are no murderers, but things might get complicated if you stay.”

Fairris glared at the mayor in anger but she did not make a move, she did not murder unarmed people.

“Let’s go Fairris,” Jar’nesh said as she took the coin pouch from the mayor, “Leave this foul business behind us.”

“You still have time to screw the girl again mayor,” Ty’far said with a disgusted look as she encouraged Fairris to leave with them.

Reluctantly Fairris sheathed her gunblade and turned to move with her friends.

The mayor mumbled something at their backs and Fairris stopped, the fires of anger returning to her blue eyes.

Slowly Fairris turned to Addar Van Elmar and drew her weapon and walked towards the evil man.

“What do you think you are doing?” Addar sneered, but his glare turned to a look of fear when he saw the anger in Fairris’s eyes.

“Don’t be a fool,” the mayor stammered and backed away from Fairris, “This is insane. No please, don’t. Think about what you are doing. You are no murderer.”

“Killing monsters is not murder,” Fairris said coldly as she drove her gunblade into Addar Van Elmer’s gut.

Fairris twisted her blade cruelly and ripped it free, spilling the man’s entrails onto the grimy stone of the floor. Addar tried to scream but the only sound that came out as a gurgle as Fairris slashed his throat. Her next cuts severed an arm and a leg and opened his gut further. Addar Van Elmar fell to ground dead, but Fairris was not finished and she hacked at the mayor’s body a few more times before turning to the cell where the girl lay. Using her gunblade she broke the lock of the door and pulled the dead woman from the cell and dumped her onto Addar’s corpse.

Fairris turned from the scene to see the shocked expressions of her companions. Fairris ignored them and called out to the guard.

The young guardsmen stumbled down the stairs, still half asleep, but his eyes widened and his face became pale when he saw the mutilated corpse of the mayor.

“The girl escaped her cell and killed the mayor,” Fairris said simply, “And the other Vampire is dead.”

Fairris turned and left the dungeon, Jar’nesh and Ty’far right behind her and the sounds of the guardsman vomiting echoing off the stone walls. Fairris moved quickly through the town and back to the tavern where they gathered their things and led their horses from the town of Gerwill just as the alarms were being sounded.

Jar’nesh and Ty’far did not ask her anything or remark on what had happened and they rode quietly off into the coming dawn.

Fairris rode as if in a dream, her blue eyes staring blankly on the road and her mind replaying what had happened continuously. Before she realised the day had all but finished and they were riding up to the gates of Horbin which sat on the banks of the Nagra River.

Horbin was the seat of a Lord of Norrendōrel and as such the town was much larger than Gerwill. Thanks to its positioning along the large rive Nagra, which marked the boarders between Norrendōrel and Sesserrech, Horbin also saw a great number to travellers riding the ferry up and down the river.

Fairris paid little regard to the questions of the guards at the gate, her attention completely held by the two elves and a dwarf which were impaled on spike in front of the high wall, with a sign marking them as Ravens alongside.

The guards let them through and they found a small tavern among the narrow streets of Horbin. Fairris did not eat anything and went straight to sleep, ignoring the curious looks from her companions.

But her sleep was not restful and her dreams were filled with the laughing face of Addar Van Elmar which she hacked and slashed at but it kept returning.

The next morning she roused Jar’nesh and Ty’far early and they bordered the first ferry that would take them down river to the town of Wyzmir where they could begin the trek along the West March north to Port Na’brath.

Fairris watched the brownish water lap gently up against the flat bottomed ferry as it drifted slowly along the currents and Jar’nesh and Ty’far took the opportunity to ask Fairris some questions.

“You have been rather distant of late Fairris,” Ty’far remarked as she leaned her back against the railing.

“Have I?” Fairris tried to avoid the coming queries.

“Come on Fairris,” Jar’nesh said leaning on the railing on Fairris’s other side. “Your actions in Gerwill speak volumes, but we want to know why you acted as such. Are we not your friends that you cannot tell us?”

Fairris sighed, “Of course you are my friends. But I don’t want to burden either of you with my problems.”

“That’s what friends do,” Ty’far replied.

“Come on, tell us,” Jar’nesh implored, “Why did you react so viciously?”

Fairris clenched jaw, her eyes going hard.

“Men like Addar Van Elmar are the ones I hate the most,” Fairris said through clenched teeth, “Psychopaths that kill or hurt young woman for their own perverse desires. It fills me with such rage.”

Fairris took a deep breath and calmed herself.

“I can understand that,” Ty’far smiled.

“But is that it?” Jar’nesh asked curiously, “I would not think that killing such a man that you despise so greatly would affect you like it has.”

Fairris sighed again, “It wasn’t killing the mayor that has had me troubled.  It was how I used the girl’s corpse to cover the murder.”

“She was dead,” Ty’far shrugged, “I don’t think she cared.”

“But I did,” Fairris was quick to reply.

Ty’far shrugged again and they all fell quiet and looked at the brownish water of Nagra lapping gently against the ferry.

“I have never understood you Nevāranciens views on death,” Fairris remarked absently.

“There are couple of views, if you are interested to know,” Jar’nesh replied.

Fairris nodded, “It is a surprisingly long ferry ride. And I am interested to know.”

“Well, we don’t believe that there are many Gods,” Jar’nesh began, “Only the one in Death. For only Death is certain. It’s not a religion as such, more of a view point, and the majority view point in Nevārance is that Death decides who will die and when. Death rewards great warriors with life in battles and takes those whose time it is to die. And if they have been noble and fierce in battle Death also rewards the ones he takes with an afterlife filled with splendours.”

Fairris nodded a she became intrigued with the concept. 

“The other popular view is that Death is an ultimate,” Jar’nesh continued, “When you die you cease to exist and become nothing, so you should live for the day as none of it will matter when Death takes you. But that view has become less popular latterly and there are arguments that there cannot be nothing. All life is energy and energy cannot be used up, only transformed into something else. And Death decides what our energy is transformed into, thus if we honour Death with an accomplished life, Death will choose something rewarding for us when we die.”

Jar’nesh finished and Fairris continued to stare into the brownish water of the Nagra, considering her friends words.

“I am a believer of the first theory myself,” Ty’far added.

“So that is why you never fear dying in a fight,” Fairris said softly, and a slight smile came to her lips.

“Tell me more of the splendours that Death rewards the worthy,” Fairris implored Jar’nesh.

For the rest of the ferry ride Jar’nesh and Ty’far regaled Fairris with tales of such wonder and joy that by the time they disembarked at Wyzmir Fairris could have said she was a believer.

After paying a rather large tax for crossing the border they left Wyzmir and began their long trip north along the West March. Up until now Fairris had been thinking of other things, but the crossing into Sesserrech brought the thought that they were on their way to assassinate Vincent Varrintine. Something Fairris had no intention of doing, but she had yet to find a way to convince Jar’nesh and Ty’far that killing Lord Varrintine was not right.

Vythe’s father was a friend to Fairris, and yet the contract for his death had been given to them by Kil’dar, who was a commander of the Warriors from Nevārance. How could Fairris ever convince her friends to go against a direct order from their commander?

The thoughts plagued her on the eventless journey along the West March and she still had not found a solution by the time they had come to the southern reaches of Elmnest.