Glad to wake from this experience, which was worse than the mockery of the khan the previous evening, I quickly become cheerful, seeing that Animal Friend has risen to 2 during the night. Perhaps Lisandra can buy me a horse and a bow. Then, with sufficient skill in Animal Friend and Wield Shortbow, I will try to prove to the khan and his people that they have laughed too soon at this crow.

When she has risen, I explain to Lisandra what I need and she raises her eyebrows. ‘Crow. I’ve come to admire you greatly. And I know there’s a mystery to you that I can’t ask upon; you’ve sworn to our god. But this challenge? This isn’t for rogues. This is for warriors who have spent their whole lives riding and using a bow. Are you sure now, you know what you’re about?’

‘Mistress Lisandra, I tell no lie; give me horse and bow and I’ll be set fair to try.’

‘Well then. I believe you. I believe in you.’

With the sky having been light for an hour, the settlement is busy. Lisandra and I make our way past tents where leatherworking, metalworking, and food preparation are taking place, to a long, oval corral whose fences contain dozens of horses. As we walk, we are no longer greeted with friendly looks: even young children manage to display expressions of scorn towards us, copied from the adults. This should not trouble me, yet it does. I have done nothing to deserve the contempt of these people: they misjudge me.

While it is not clear to me if the man managing the horses is an officer serving the khan or an owner of his own business, it is very clear that he has little time for us. He is a small man with grey hair kept shorter than most here, and he has a thin, long moustache, carefully shaped. As Lisandra tries to negotiate with him for a horse the manager interrupts her to give orders to his staff and often looks away from the conversation to show us he is busy keeping an eye on all the activity of the stables. When Lisandra holds out two gold coins, he just shakes his head.

‘Worthless here. We don’t use them.’

‘Well then, can we perform a service for you? I’m a sorceress. Perhaps you’d like Protection from Snakes cast on a horse before it rides out of camp.’

The manager shrugs. ‘Maybe. How long does it last?’

‘Thirty minutes.’

‘Then no; that’s not long enough.’

‘Crow?’ Lisandra looks at me without much hope. ‘Can you think of anything we have to offer this man in return for a horse?’

As it happens, I believe I do.

‘I am right to say, those horses are giving you difficulty? If I break them in, will you give me one and keep the other three?’ I gesture towards a far pen of four horses, where a reddish-brown mare is leaping and kicking its hind legs in the direction of a woman who has merely opened the gate, a coil of rope in hand.

A chuckle is the response of the manager, one that lasts until my steady stare communicates that I am serious.

‘All right. If you tame them, properly mind, not just put them under a spell that wears off, if you can do that, then I’ll be happy to let you have one. You’ll deserve it too. They are a fierce lot. Even our best trainers can do nothing with them.’

‘Daunting, but Crow rarely feels fear. What’s your highest Animal Friend skill here?’

‘Six; I am six,’ the manager sounds proud.

‘I’ll return in a week; in the meantime a bow I seek.’

‘You’ll come back in a week?’ he repeats. ‘What difference will a week make?’

I do not answer, instead looking over at the horses.

‘What about bows?’ Lisandra senses I don’t wish to explain myself and redirect’s the manager’s attention.

‘Go to the archery butts downstream, outside the camp.’

Offering a nod of thanks, I set off, Lisandra hurrying after me.

‘Really Crow? You can tame wild horses now?’

My smile is the smile of a fine fellow; the smile of the world’s only afk leveller. Yes, I can train wild horses. I can do anything once I have the basics of a skill. I’m struck by an important thought. Next time I level up, I must save a skill point to invest in a skill that a new and unforeseen situation demands. It was foolish of me not to have appreciated this earlier.

Our short walk complete, I see that archery, like riding, is clearly a passion for the people of Cantreth. Perhaps a hundred of them are in the practice area, releasing arrows at straw figures; dozens of children are learning archery too. Most people are on foot, in rows facing rows of targets, instructors walking among them. The next field, however, is marked out for riders who display the most extraordinary abilities, not only hitting the targets while galloping across them, but also while turning fully in the saddle and releasing their arrows while riding directly away from their targets. These warriors would be hard to defeat in open battle, for they can ride past their enemies, pouring arrows upon them and even if being chased by cavalry could still inflict casualties on the pursuers.

‘Come on, Crow, there are some workshops over there.’

Crowdreaming over, I follow Lisandra as she ducks into a large tent where a dozen men and women are engaged in a bewildering amount of tasks. I’m curious though and hop around to look at the lathes and vices and glue pots and horn shavings.

‘What do you want?’ an older Cantreth woman with grey at the roots of her otherwise long, brown hair accosts me.

Hurrying up, Lisandra says, ‘We wish to buy a bow and arrows.’

‘What have you got to trade?’

‘Gold?’ suggests Lisandra and this time, I can see from the woman’s eyes that the negotiation will not be hopeless. Perhaps because she is wearing two silver rings.

‘Show me.’

Lisandra again takes out two gold coins. They are bezants from the Arkine Empire, not much bigger than my thumbnail, and show the emperor’s head on one side and an owl on the other.

‘There’s not enough gold in these to be worth melting them.’

‘Silver then, these are from Nekis and are real silver.’ Lisandra reaches into her pouch and finds a handful of silver coins. They look small, lying on her stocky palm, but the woman picks one up and tries to make an impression in it with her teeth.

Seemingly satisfied – my heart skipping with hope – she gets a weighing scale and puts a hexagon-shaped piece of metal on one scale.

‘That much silver.’

It takes nearly twenty coins to before the weight rises and when it does Lisandra looks at me and smiles.

Unsmiling is the woman who now takes a recently made bow from a rack, she hands it to me and turns away. What a joy, to slide my hands along the polished wood and bone, to feel the spring in the trembling of the bow when I shake it; to inhale the scent of glue and oil. This feels like when a cat first allows you to touch it: a connection; an affinity. Already, I love this bow.

The woman returns with two cords and a quiver of twenty arrows. ‘If you don’t know how to use the bow, ask at the butts.’

I may be only skill 1 in Wield Shortbow but it is enough to know how to place a loop of cord at one end of the bow, wedge that end between foot and floor, then lean down upon the other end, exerting myself until I can slip the loop of the taught cord into the slot made for holding it. Plucking the strung bow like I would my barbat, I am delighted by the note it sounds. Crow with a bow. This will become a dangerous weapon. Death whistling upon my foes from the dark shadows.

Back outside in the brighter light of day, we find a line of practicing archers and while Lisandra sits heavily on the ground behind me after I find an empty lane, I take an arrow from the quiver and fit it to the string. Deep breath. Pull. To the maximum. Release. Wide right but not by much. I’m pleased enough except for a soreness along my inner arm where the stiff feathers of the arrow brushed me as it sprang from the bow. I will need to wear my leather armguard if I am going to do this all day, which I should. Eventually, typically some time over the next four hundred hours of practice, I will get a natural skill up.

For now, more careful with the release to protect my arm, I use up my twenty arrows (five of which strike the target).

‘Not bad. Nowhere near the level you are going to have to be.’ Lisandra hides a yawn with the back of her hand, then whispers, ‘but I’ve feeling you will be at the necessary level surprisingly soon.’

One of the trainers is blowing into a pipe of some sort to make a shrill sound and all practice ceases. Then I see it is so that people can walk down to the targets and regain their arrows. This gives me the excuse to leave Lisandra without even looking at her, because I know she will read my expression. She’s no fool and understands the nature of my boon, though probably not the specifics. She also isn’t likely to speak of it.

After I gather my arrows Lisandra heaves herself up. ‘Mind if we go back to our tent for breakfast? I’m hungry.’

I don’t mind at all, in fact I could use some breakfast too.

On our arrival at the tent, I find the others disconsolate.

‘No one has brought food for us today,’ says Gerard. ‘And we can’t even buy some. It’s like we are unwanted guests turning up at a ball. The servants have to let us in, but they don’t have to bring us food and drink.’

‘What’s that Crow?’ Belle holds her hand out for the unstrung bow and I pass it to her, watching as she caresses the polished wood and bone. ‘Beautiful. I think when I level up next, I will put a point into short bow.’

‘What are we going to do? Is there any point staying? What will we eat?’

‘Of course we’re staying.’ There is strength in Lisandra’s voice, which fills the tent. ‘Crow will practice until he can win the tooth.’

‘That might take years.’

‘It won’t.’ Lisandra manages to restrain herself from saying anything else and I am glad. Of course I trust my friends but every person who understands the nature of my secret boon is a risk. If news of it were widespread, other realms would try to copy us and our advantage would be lost.

Still in irritable mode and pitching his voice upwards to show it, Gerard continues, ‘And what about food?’

I speak as confidently as I feel. ‘We shall eat as much as we need; you can rely on Crow to feed.’

‘I hope it’s not a diet of nettle soup again.’ But the rancour from Gerard’s voice has gone.

***

That night – after a day of archery practice and a skill increase in Animal Friend – while my friends go to the khan’s tent (despite having no invitation or escort), I slip into the darkness while concentrating on my Stealth. I am shadow-in-the-night Crow once more. Patient. Cunning. Waiting for the sighs and gasps and chants from the main tent to provide a distraction should I fail to be perfectly silent. It is almost trivial to obtain a servant’s jerkin, a pair of moccasins, a wool waistcoat, and dark trousers. Each from a different tent, far apart. Then I lean into my Disguise skill so as to be able to approach the cooking area as a servant.

Like a crow watching the slow progress of a tasty beetle, I study the movements of the servants as the cooking is completed and dishes are laid out on tables, then removed, to be brought to the large tent presumably. My plan to brazenly walk forward in the exact fashion of those collecting the food proves to be unnecessarily complicated when a large plate of braised meat is left unattended. That will do us all very nicely.

It is hard not to smile as I approach our tent, the appetising scent of cooked meat all around me. I can hear the voices of my companions, angry that they have been refused entrance to the night’s food and entertainment. Ducking under the flap, I keep my head down as I hold up my heavily laden tray.

‘Oh!’ The exclamation is from Aarax. ‘Someone has come with food for us after all.’

Lady Horsta says, ‘Well, that’s better.’

Then I stand up, letting my Disguise drop and now my grin cannot be contained, especially when I see the impish smile on Belle’s face as she understands how I intend to keep us fed while I level up the necessary skills to complete the challenge.

Inside, it is not easy to locate my friends, for people are standing five or six rows deep around a central area (badly lit by greasy oil lanterns) that has been kept clear. Servants push through the crowd with wooden trays of roasted meat and mugs of drink, a beer of some sort from the smell of it. Lady Horsta’s light hair stands out from the uniformly dark hair of the people of Cantreth and because of it, I can now see the others and ease my way between the ranks to stand beside Belle.

‘Isn’t this interesting, Crow?’ she says. ‘This is so different, I really feel like I’m a long way from home tonight.’

It is noisy with the many conversations contained within the canvas and I am never very good with words, so I simply nod and we both smile.

Waving a thin skewer at me, Gerard says, ‘You should try the food, Crow, it’s good. Venison I think.’

When the opportunity comes, I take a stick of meat cubes from a servant and find that my body relishes the scent. Nettle soup may have sustained us but this rich, grilled venison gives me an immediate lift in strength.

‘What did I tell you?’ Gerard is watching me.

Again I nod and smile.

‘I don’t recommend the beer though,’ Gerard’s rueful shake of his head is exaggerated and I laugh.

Silence unexpectedly spreads from the entrance of the tent and in comes the khan, and behind him two women, perhaps his wife and his or her mother. Everyone kneels, so of course we do too, until he is settled in his large chair under the horsehair banner, the women seated either side of him. Then we rise again, but the conversations do not resume.

‘Nobles, warriors and people of Cantreth,’ says the khan. ‘Tonight we honour Samjaran, hero of past cycles, demi-god, and star that guides us. May our deeds this cycle prove worthy of him.’

A murmured response, ‘Rysaka hear us.’

Clapping his hands together above his head, a drumbeat begins and my attention turns from the khan to the circle at the centre of the tent where a woman with a horse-head mask has run in. Slowly, turning back and forth with equine grace, she moves around the circle, touching outstretched hands with the lips of her mask. I like the performance already and even more when the drum becomes more ominous and from the opposite side to the horse, a wolf man appears. Then two more.

The hunt is on. Despite their crafty encirclement, the horse – their goddess Rysaka presumably – becomes aware of the wolves and then, with slowed down actions and reactions on all their parts, she tries to escape. Cleverly using the shadows of claw and fang cast by interposing their costumes before the lamps, the wolves gather darkness around the horse-god and are closing in for the kill when: crash! Symbols ring out loudly. The drumming stops. And into the circle steps a warrior. Red is his cloak and red the metal plates of his armour. Red too, the greaves, armband and even the fur around his conical helmet.

While the wolves and horse remain unmoving, our hero walks proudly around, raising his bow high and fitting an arrow. I can’t help admiring him and feeling even more impressed when the drums resume, martial now. Exaggeratedly pulling back the string of his bow, the warrior releases the tension without letting go of the arrow and a lightly-clad youth runs in, takes the arrow and holding it high, runs three laps around the ring before bringing it to a wolf and miming stabbing the wolf in the throat.

Immediately the other two turn and rush – or so it seems from their limbs, although in fact they move very slowly – upon our hero. Since they are honouring Samjaran, this must be the name of the warrior. He certainly has notable skills, since he fits two arrows to his bow at once and as he lets go of them, two more youths run in to carry them high, both simultaneously striking each of the remaining wolves in the heart.

And now a sweet, stringed instrument plays as the horse comes to embrace the hero. And. Oh. They mate. At least, that’s the suggestion as she turns away from him and bends over. Do they believe that their goddess rewards heroes in this way? The scene makes me uneasy, not because it is lewd. There’s plenty of lewd behaviour in Crumblin. What does not feel right to me is the swift and loveless nature of the act. My mate will be for life. I am a crow, not a stallion.

That awkward – to me – moment does not last long before we focus on the goddess once more, who falls to all fours and becomes slower and slower in her waddling movements, the drum matching pace, until, with another mighty crash of cymbals, the crowd of watching people throngs into the circle. Even the khan has stepped down to join in. Everyone? No, not my friends. Nor a small man in finely decorated linen clothes. A man who is watching us. When he notices my scrutiny, he turns away to watch the lively scene at the centre of the tent, where people are clasping hands and turning from side to side to do the same with everyone around them. I understand it now, all of a sudden. This is their origin story. They see themselves as a people born of their goddess and the red, demi-god warrior, Samjaran.

Now the drum starts up again, slow and steady. Within four beats, the women have begun to chant, almost a drone. And then the men come in, deeper. Arms on each other’s shoulders, they are singing. And the uplifting effect is so powerful I feel shivers run through me. This communion is stronger than any I felt with the congregation in our temple. This is a united people and I’m stirred. I would like to be part of such a strong community. Perhaps I am, Crumblin people do look after their own. But we would never stand in close-packed circles like this, singing together to create a many-layered sound that seems to fill the whole world.

That night, as I lie on comfortable furs, inside a tent that is keeping me warm for the first time in a week, I am too tired to listen for long to the others, who were clearly as affected by the ceremony as I was. The last voice I hear is that of Lisandra, saying that for some reason she felt like crying as she heard the singing, because it inexplicably brought back to her mind her husband, who died more than ten years ago. Then I am dreaming of flying high above the battles of humans.

***

After a leisurely morning wandering through the camp, during which I am greeted with friendly looks, a horn blows from some distance to the west and the camp is transformed. Everywhere, people begin to saddle and mount their ponies, before riding towards the call. It is not a call to war though, youths and even children (some riders seem to be as young as four or five) are part of the great movement. I hurry back to our tent.

‘There you are Crow,’ says Lady Horsta. ‘We must attend the ceremony of the dragon’s tooth. Let’s hurry.’

With that explanation for the movement throughout the settlement, I am eager to find out what the challenge is and at a brisk walk, we follow a well-trodden route along the south bank of the river, the sky ahead filled with the dust of riders. When we catch up to where they have gathered, riders move aside to let us through to the front, where the khan and several rows of warriors on horseback are formed up beside one end of a wide and very long rectangular area. We are at the top of a dirt tract and about two-thirds of the way down it is a strange construction.

In the middle of a wide circle of dirt is a tripod made of three long tree trunks, roped together where they meet. Dangling from the apex of the tripod is a noose, about ten metres off the ground. I am about to make a gloomy remark about this ominous sight to Belle when suddenly there is a stir among the crowd, as though a wind is blowing across a field of grass, and I realise that a dragon’s tooth has spawned in the noose and now dangles from the tripod.

There it is, right in front of us, about a hundred metres away. So easy to obtain. Why, I could sprint down the dirt track, scramble up one of the tree trunks, and touch the dragon’s tooth of Cantreth before anyone could stop me. No doubt I would quickly be surrounded by hundreds of angry warriors. Yet the daring Crow almost wants to give it a try: what with my Blink and Shadow Step I would prove elusive for some time, perhaps even get away. But of course this is only wishful thinking; I would not leave my friends to suffer the anger of the khan, even if I could escape with the tooth.

A brass instrument shrieks out its call from halfway along the track and then a man on a brown horse that is much larger than the ponies of Cantreth emerges from the crowds. It is the samurai from Hailand that the khan had mentioned and almost certainly the outsider I had seen in the tent last night.

Samurai were very rare visitors to Nekis, but I had seen two there. And I’d come across several of the Hailand warriors walking in the streets of Callondum. This one is poised on his horse and is a very striking figure with his layers of shining black armour tied together with green and red cords; a dramatic helmet with what looks like metal antlers; and red cloth coverings over his horse. Long, slender bow in hand, the warrior’s eyes are on the dragon’s tooth.

A horn rings out and the samurai urges his stallion forward: trot, canter, and gallop. His arrow flies when the horse is almost entirely off the ground and it flits swiftly through the air to cut the rope! An astonishing skill, greeted with cheers of approval from the spectators. Has he achieved the goal of obtaining the tooth? It seems not for he continues to gallop on, leaning forward with outstretched arm to the right of the horse, trying to touch the falling fang. Too late. Pounding iron-shod hooves throwing up dirt bring the rider past the point where the tooth landed, just ahead of his horse.

Another blast from a brass instrument and the rider turns, salutes the khan and leaves at the far end of the track.

Antiruk, the envoy of the khan, who greeted us at the tent, is recognisable, despite wearing a fur-lined helm and his full armour. It is he who rides over and says, ‘Visitors, you have asked to take the challenge of the gods. Who is your champion?’

Of course the others look at me and I acknowledge this attention by raising my hand.

‘It is now your turn. This way,’ Antiruk turns his horse and walks it to the start of the dirt track. Am I expected to follow? But I am not prepared and I lack the equipment and skills. ‘Come!’ he gestures insistently.

Unhappy to have so many eyes upon me, I walk to Antiruk. Indifferent in manner, he points down the track to where the dragon’s tooth is being raised up again. ‘From horseback, you must cut the cord with the flight of an arrow and touch the tooth before it hits the ground. Do you see the purple banners?’

I can: a pair of tall, fluttering banners, either side of the track and about halfway along it. I nod.

Antiruk adds, ‘You must release your arrow before passing those banners. Understood?’

I nod again.

Antiruk walks his horse away from me and back to the khan. A horn blows with the same intensity as that which announced the attempt of the warrior from Hailand. There is no doubt that as a challenger I ought to be riding down that track, bow in hand. But I lack the horse and the bow too. So I remain where I am, unsure what is expected of me.

Laughter begins from the direction of the khan and it spreads among all the spectators. It must be amusing for them to see an adventurer so poorly prepared. Could they not have explained the challenge without placing me here, to be mocked? Of course they could. They wanted this moment. At last the khan rides forward, hand raised. Now the laughter dies away so people can hear him as he addresses me in a loud voice without leaning down.

‘Our honoured guests from The Kingdom of Lost Souls have come all this way without a horse or a bow. Well, today they have now learned a lesson about the importance of both.’ Halgis Khan leans down towards me. ‘Now return to your position and tomorrow we will escort you towards whichever border you wish to cross.’

Before moving I study the khan’s face and believe I see a malice there which had been hidden before. And I study the faces of the riders nearby. Most are enjoying my discomfort; some look away after I hold their gaze with pride and determination.

Riding up beside me is Antiruk. ‘You must go back to your position. The khan has spoken!’

Him too I scrutinise and realise he has been filled with contempt for us since the moment we met.

‘I leave this spot but here we stay; I will attempt your challenge another day.’

Despite my indignation at having been made a source of entertainment for the khan and his riders, I keep my voice steady. After all, I am Crow, favoured of Lord Scrithax. Slowly, almost provocatively, head high, I walk back to my friends.

After I have resumed my place, a Cantreth rider prepares herself for the challenge. Again, the horn blows and at once she rides hard for the tripod. Releasing her arrow just before the purple banners, she cuts the cord; the dragon’s tooth drops; her eager animal has the speed to take her to the falling ivory and it never hits the ground at all. As soon as her hand touches the dragon tooth it disappears. And also disappearing is my hope that I could perhaps steal the tooth at night. Of course: they don’t need to guard it. Just despawn it after the challenges are over, knowing that it will appear at the same time the next day. It will never be left alone because it only appears before the crowds.

‘Well, that’s us banjaxed,’ says Gerard.

I say nothing, but I swap my afk levelling from Wield Dagger, which is a respectable 3, to Animal Friend.

An hour’s walk at the easy pace of Lisandra and the soil becomes dryer, the grasses more sparse and shorter. Where there are lusher, darker, clusters of grasses in the dips between the mild undulations of the land, they are no longer filled with nettles but yellow-headed, wild grains. By the scents alone I can tell the landscape around me is changing. The air is lighter, containing less of the rich, moist smells of the deep green vegetation. Here, the plants are smaller and sparser, and the birds are ground-feeders, running across dry soil, alert, and often in pairs, between them watching in all directions.

At times like this, when our group must walk for most of the day, we often fall into a pattern: young at the front, old at the back. Aarax, Belle, and I are much the same age and while my clumsy words are often composed too slowly and arrive after the conversation has taken a new turn, there is usually a merry theme to our discussions, with much laughter. Steady but slow – we three at the front must sometimes wait for them to catch up – Lisandra and Gerard plod along behind, talking of matters that are as weighty as their footsteps. And between these two groups, often alone for hours, is Lady Horsta.

While Belle and Aarax continue on, I wait for the paladin to come up to me and then fall in step with her. A glance; a nod. Nothing said for about an hour. Then, after taking small sip from her canteen, Lady Horsta speaks. ‘I always thought that the people of the Kingdom of Lost Souls were sinister, evil even. But you are decent folk. I don’t understand how you can live alongside the undead.’

‘What happens when in Trolland when someone dies? Is that then the permanent end of their life?’

‘Not exactly. Your spirit goes to rest until the next great cycle begins, when you will be reborn. As are all people, from all realms.’

I answer that it is the same for us, except that a chosen few get to have additional time in a kind of dream-state as zombies and other forms of undead, even, in exceptional cases (usually only one in any era) as a vampire.

‘Isn’t that where evil comes in though? How can you murder innocents and feast on their blood without being absolutely wicked?’

‘Innocent? No, it is upon our enemies that a vampire feeds. With each feed lasting months, a vampire has very little needs.’

I can tell that Lady Horsta is not persuaded and that her loyalty to our cause is conflicted. As if aware of my thoughts, she says, ‘Don’t worry Crow. I’d much rather see your realm victorious than the Arkine Empire. It will be a day of great satisfaction for me when you destroy those traitors. And while I can’t promise to always serve your cause, I won’t ever forget you got me out of that Arkine prison.’

It is taking me too long to find the words to tell her that I admire her and am grateful for her support, so I reach over and take her hand to squeeze it, feeling in return her strong clasp. Her blue eyes confirm the sincerity of her feelings as – I imagine – do my dark ones. After I look away and let go Lady Horsta’s hand we walk side by side for over an hour, before laughter from Belle impels me hurry forward to join her and Aarax.

***

Guided by the sight of the darker vegetation that covers them, we have no difficulty finding streams to refresh our water canteens and although the star-filled nights are very cold, I find I am enjoying our trek across the steppes of Cantreth. This is not a landscape for hiding in. While the vast skies and low horizon would normally make me uneasy, being a child of narrow alleys and hidden entrances, I am certain that no predators are stalking us: Amaris in particular.

On our third night since turning northeast I am on watch over my resting companions, who are all huddled together near the remains of our fire. Unfamiliar calls from night birds are the focus of my attention (not only because I am curious about them, but because I am using them to gauge the presence danger, on the assumption that if they fall silent, something threatening is moving nearby) when I hear a very distant sound like that of the wind blowing over the open holes of rooftop drains. So faint that I lose it, the sound returns for a moment, clear enough to satisfy me that I am listening to music, to the singing of a considerable crowd of people. How far away are they? The Crow of the streets of Crumblin has not the experience to say how sounds travel over the steppes. Nevertheless I reckon that unless the singing comes from close by, the sounds I can hear would have been lost in the immensity of grass and sky.

When the sun arrives for a new day, an enormous blue sky lights up above me, half filled with thick, slow-moving white clouds; before me is kilometre after kilometre of gently undulating land, covered in grass whose blades just now, slick with the moisture of dew, appear more silver than green. When the others wake, feeling the new day upon them, I explain that I have heard singing during the night. As a result, we are all attentive to the northern horizon. All there is to see is yet more grass. No settlement.

Yet after a walk of about two hours, as I crest the first long rise of the day, on the very next hill to come into view there are three riders, one of whom immediately wheels his horse around and disappears from view. Small horses, ponies really; fur cloaks over plates of banded armour; round metal helmets with a fur band. And bows, which they have brought into their hands. Indeed, they both have arrows notched.

‘What do we do?’ asks Belle.

‘Keep walking towards them,’ Lady Horsta has joined us. ‘But with our weapons sheathed.’

Onwards then, walking through knee-high grass, eyes always returning to the two riders on the far hill. Onwards, through bright sunshine or long periods of shadow as the slow-moving, bulky clouds pass by. Those clouds are free. I, however, feel that I am now committed to a course of action that I will not be able to control. Like when Captain Adelaide’s little ship was out of sight of the coast and all around me was unstable sea. And that feeling that I have lost freedom and safety only intensifies when another twenty riders appear and line up beside the two watchers.

We are close enough to be heard and Lady Horsta calls out, ‘We are undertaking the Epico Draco Missio and wish to face the challenge for your dragon’s tooth.’

I am not expecting laughter to be their response. All along the line, riders are grinning or laughing aloud. Then, with a wave from one of them, they turn their ponies around and begin walking away from us.

‘That was odd,’ says Belle.

‘They were mocking us,’ Lisandra sets off after the last rider. ‘They are scornful of our chances. Let’s go prove them wrong.’

Our sorceress might be right. I too heard scorn in the laughter.

Once beyond the rise a huge camp is revealed. About two kilometres away from us and downslope, are hundreds of tents, arranged closely together inside the U-shape of a sparkling, sinuous river. Several clusters of ponies too, corralled beside the silver water. This settlement is clearly where the singing I heard came from.

Following the line of riders ahead of us, it is not long before I can hear metal being hammered; shouts; and (reassuringly) the shriek of children at play.

As we reach the first tents at the outskirts of the settlement, the grasses give way to well-trodden earth: they have been here a while. Perhaps it is the effect of having walked for days in fresh air, but the odours that now reach me seem very strong. Some are pleasant – fish being cooked, nettle tea being brewed, milk fermented – others are less so, especially the reek of horse urine from an area where tanning is taking place. Our escorts continue to walk their horses along a wide thoroughfare between the tents and we follow.

The citizens of this settlement are mildly interested in us, ceasing their work or journeys to stand and study us. What do they see? Nothing too impressive. Without the mules, Lady Horsta and Gerard had to reduce their armour to the minimum: breastplate, greaves and armbands. Of course, they do still have their swords and perhaps retain an aura of authority as a result. Belle, Aarax and I are in leather armour and might pass as serious adventurers. Poor Lisandra, though, has lost all the elegance she had when we left Nekis in the coach. Her cloak is torn and dirty; the felt of her boots has been scuffed away to bare leather; her hair is matted; and her tunic threadbare, the embroidery on it (once showing constellations of stars) torn. Still, she has her bags and satchel, perhaps it is possible to judge her a sorceress.

Children, mostly barefoot and in just light tunics, despite the fact that the breeze feels cold whenever the sun is covered, are much more interested in us than the adults, following behind in large numbers. They are not so different to the urchins of Crumblin. We too would be curious if strangers entered our streets. And we’d watch them intently: partly to absorb the unusual spectacle and partly in the hope that an opportunity would arise to gain their items and coins.

At a very large and well-guarded tent, the riders disperse and we are greeted by a black-bearded man in splint armour. His manner is unconcerned and for some reason, I’m inclined to like him.

‘Greetings in the name of Halgis Khan. I am Antiruk, the Captain of the Centre. Who are you?’

After introducing ourselves – honestly – Antiruk nods. Then his mouth twitches, as if supressing a smile. ‘You wish to take the challenge for the dragon tooth?’

‘We do,’ says Lisandra firmly.

‘I believe the khan will want to hear that for himself. Please wait here.’ With a bow, Antiruk moves through the flaps of the tent to the dark interior.

‘The food smells good,’ says Aarax after a few minutes.

‘No offence, Crow,’ says Gerard, ‘but it would be good to have a decent hot meal. Fish, by the smell of it.’

‘Listen to the two of you. Sounding like you are still coachmen and not adventurers,’ Belle catches my eye to include me as she teases them. ‘All you care about is your stomachs. Aren’t you planning for the fact we might be attacked and imprisoned?’

‘The people of Cantreth are an honourable people,’ says Lady Horsta, ‘they will allow us to take the challenge. Although, something is amiss. I’m not sure what.’

Not long do we wait under the impassive gaze of the tent guards before Antiruk returns, bows, and gestures us to follow him inside. Constructed on four great timbers, there is a central aisle in this wide tent that allows us to walk past more guards as well as unarmoured adults in embroidered tunics to. We halt before a raised dais, on which are three large, occupied chairs. On the left is an old woman, hair in one, long, grey braid; on the right a dark-haired woman in a blue tunic on which the embroidered horses and flowers are of a much higher quality than any other in the tent; and in the centre a stout, middle-aged man, wearing armour made of rectangular metal plates sewn on leather.

Behind the dias is a large banner, woven of a thick thread, showing a rider releasing an arrow while his horse is galloping.

Antiruk bows to them, gestures, and says to us, ‘Halgis Khan; the queen; and the queen mother.’ Then to the khan, ‘Five adventurers seeking to undertake the trial of the dragon tooth.’

When Lady Horsta makes a bow, I realise that I should do the same, as do we all.

The khan waves his right hand. ‘You are very welcome, please take a seat and speak with us.’

Servants place three-legged stools on the lamp-lit space before the dias and so we sit, the guards and civilians in the tent seeming to come closer around us to listen.

‘Where have you come from?’ asks the khan, ‘What news do you bring?’

‘Four of us are from Nekis,’ Lisandra points us out. ‘As for news, the Kingdom of Lost Souls is being starved of trade and its fields raided by the Jomskar Vikings, the soldiers of Southway, and the troops of the Arkine Empire.’

The khan nods, expression neutral. Every other realm fears ours though, so I doubt he has any sympathy for the hardship we people of Nekis are experiencing.

‘And I am from Trolland, recently conquered as a result of a treacherous strike from the Arkine Empire. With no god to serve, I assist those who will assist me destroy the Arkine Emperor.’ Lady Horsta speaks loudly and with self-belief.

‘I had heard of the fall of Trolland. I am sorry for you and the worshipers of Daspartar, the thunder god. But such is the game of gods. Please, drink.’

A servant with a steaming pot approaches us, another gives us wooden cups. I’m looking forward to a warm drink of some sort, which would be welcome after our long walk, until I inhale quite an unpleasant, almost rancid smell. Belle has caught it to and when our eyes meet, she gives the faintest shrug of resignation. I understand her. We must drink this, or risk offending our hosts.

‘Thank you,’ says Lady Horsta, having drunk quickly from her cup. There is something of a stoic, determined quality to her voice. ‘What manner of drink is this?’

‘Tea, with hot mare’s milk,’ says the queen.

To the credit of my companions, they manage both to imbibe their drinks and compose expressions of gratitude. By leaning upon my Disguise skill, I hope that I too appear satisfied, though the experience of swallowing this greasy tea is nauseating.

When we have managed the drinks as best we can, the khan asks, ‘Where are your horses?’

‘We have none, unfortunately,’ says Lisandra and the effect is palpable. Our listeners are scornful.

‘No horses,’ the queen mother shakes her head. ‘I have forty-seven.’

‘They were taken when we were captured by the Arkine Empire,’ says Aarax and he looks as sad as his words. He was fond of Lamrial and Valiant.

‘Then you will not be able to win our challenge. Unless you can trade for one? I don’t think that will be easy for you.’

‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ says Lisandra, ‘why do we need horses?’

‘You’ll see tomorrow. We have another challenger with us, from Hailand. He will make the attempt. For now, please rest and do join us later for tonight’s feast.’ A look towards Antiruk and we are being escorted from the tent without another word. Outside, accompanied by two guards, we are led to a small tent which Antiruk tells us can be ours for the time we are in the settlement.

‘You are at liberty to roam where you wish, but please attend the khan’s tent at sunset.’

‘Well, I’ll be glad of a few days rest here,’ says Lisandra.

‘Me too,’ Gerard puts his bags down by a pile of straw. ‘So long as they don’t make us drink any more of that cursed tea.’

‘Thank Scrithax, we’re out of that forest at last. Let’s take a break. Help me gather some firewood.’ Lisandra pauses only for a moment to look across the undulating, grassy plain ahead of us, then turns back to the trees. The landscape is one of grasses which are more yellow than green, the wind forming patterns out of their swaying stalks.

When Mistress Withen or I tried to help with Master Cathaldus’ tasks, he would push us aside, muttering, too many voices and our god stops listening. Here, though, with everyone bringing an armful of dry branches and Lisandra’s Flare spell, we very quickly have a fire made, and a pan of water with peppermint leaves warming beside it.

From the satchel that contains her most precious items, Lisandra withdraws a scroll case and unfolds our sketch of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.

‘What’s that?’ asks Lady Horsta, squatting beside our sorceress.

‘It’s our plan. We started here,’ Lisandra puts a fleshy finger on the area marked Kingdom of Lost Souls, ‘and we rode east to your realm.’

‘We had a coach then,’ Belle calls over. ‘The travelling was easy. Plenty of food. I miss Valiant and Lamrial.’

‘Your horses?’ And when Belle nods, Lady Horsta adds, ‘I regret taking your carriage from you.’

‘At least we still had the horses until we ran into the Arkine army,’ says Belle.

‘Now we have nothing. Curses upon that villainous Amaris for killing our mules.’ Lisandra shakes her head.

Slowly scanning the treeline, Lady Horsta says, ‘I wonder what he’s doing now? Is he following us? Or attempting to get another Dragon’s Tooth on his own?’

‘Let’s not talk about that murderer,’ a gust of wind lifts Belle’s curls away from her face, so that her beauty lifts my spirits, ‘let’s talk about something cheerful.’

With the tea as warm as it will get, I fill a canteen, which I take from person to person. As she returns the canteen of mint tea to me, Belle touches my hand and we share a smile.

‘If we keep the Snowfell mountains on our left, we’ll be walking north.’ Lisandra taps the map and Lady Horsta nods.

‘Toward the main city of Cantreth?’ asks Belle.

‘Probably.’ An expression of amusement on Lisandra’s face – easily given to laughter, admittedly – tells me she has something further to say on this.

‘“Probably”?’ Belle also picks up on Lisandra’s teasing tone.

‘It’s less of a city than a camp. These are nomadic people and they ride around their realm with a huge herd of horses, seeking fresh pasture when they’ve settled too long in one place.’

‘How interesting,’ says Belle.

‘Not to me,’ Lady Horsta glances out over the wide horizon. ‘I prefer a city, with solid walls and buildings. And a roast meal when you want it.’

‘O Scrithax mend my aching bones. I’d love a good, hot dinner. At least in a city we could buy one.’ Stretching out her thick legs on the ground ahead of her, Lisandra massages her thighs with strong fingers. ‘It’s all Crow’s fault,’ the lively glance of her green eyes softens the severity of her voice. ‘You know he choose me to come on this journey?’ The question is directed at Gerard and Aarax, who shake their heads. ‘That’s right. Crow made his pitch to the necromancer and almost got himself imprisoned for being a liar. I helped persuade our lord to believe him and when Crow got to choose one of the council to come with him, he picked me. I was cursing myself for having backed him. Mind you, I really did believe him. A lad from Crumblin doesn’t just appear in the high castle with a story about a visit from a god.’ A pause. ‘Why did you choose me, Crow?’

‘Not the merry look when our eyes did meet, nor the accent of the Crumblin streets. One word says why you were my pick. That word is potent, it is “magic”.’

‘I knew we’d be lucky to keep the carriage and that there would be a lot of hard walking,’ says Lisandra, ‘but when you add in the filth; days without much to eat; cold nights; I almost wish you’d chosen someone else.’

‘Almost,’ Belle gets up to hug Lisandra around her broad shoulders. ‘Admit it though, you’d rather be here with us, your new friends, travelling the world, than back home in Nekis.’

Putting her hand on top of Belle’s, Lisandra says, ‘Of course I admit it.’

Although our goal had been to walk northwards, Lady Horsta made a strong case for following a slow-moving river despite the fact that its meanders took us more westwards than northward. At least by doing so we were sure of fresh water. And, in fact, towards evening we come across a lush crop of tall nettles near the riverbank. Despite some sceptical comments about eating nettles from Gerard, we settle down and make camp. As soon as the fire is lit, I start making a pot of nettle soup with snails and wild garlic. While concentrating on stewing as many nettles as will fit in the pan, I hear Aarax calling out, ‘Look up!’

Black-winged against a deep blue and mauve sky, a bird-person is slowly circling about us, descending lower and lower until I can see the brown, black and white pattern of her feathers. Falling from the figure is a tumbling stick, one that lands close to the tents. First there is Aarax, the young man crying out, ‘It’s a scroll case,’ before holding up a pale-yellow tube.

When I look up to the sky again, the bird-woman is already far away, much higher and moving steadily back towards the forest. What a joy it must be, to beat one’s wings against the cool, twilight air, while the lands below you turn orange.

Surrendering the scroll to Lisandra’s outstretched hand, Aarax watches her intently. Everyone but Crow-the-cook comes to sit beside our sorceress as she shakes tightly rolled papers from within. There are five separate letters.

‘For you, Gerard.’

‘Me?’ Our Shadow Knight is surprised.

‘One for everyone, in fact. Each with different handwriting.’ Lisandra sounds surprised as she unrolls the scrolls.

There is a letter for me? Leaving the pot I hurry and take mine. A letter for Crow here! Address: nowhere. Sitting among the tall grasses of Cantreth with not even a path to indicate a settlement might be near. And yet – as I can tell from the handwriting – Mistress Withen has found a way to talk to me.

My child, Crow. The necromancer bids me write to you. First off, we’re both very proud of you, the master and I. All of Crumblin in fact, barring one or two sour-faced types, who don’t forgive your past misdemeanours. We hear you have five of the dragon’s teeth. That’s some achievement. The whole city knows your name and we get a lot more people at our services in the Crumblin temple as a consequence. More even than the high priest up at the Level Three temple. You can imagine how pleased that makes Master Cathaldus.

Speaking of the Master, he doesn’t want to worry you and says not to mention it, but you should know that he’s struggling to move around. His hips and knees are very bad. I can see it’s hard for him these days to carry out the services. Which of course he insists on doing. And with everyone on a tight diet, he’s not eating as much as he needs. Money isn’t the problem, not after our god’s gift – thank you Lord Scrithax – it’s the rationing. You just can’t get the meat he should be eating. We’re lucky to get a fish now and again. I’m not saying this to burden you. I feel you should know. Although Lord Scrithax promised to make the master a vampire, the fact is, if he dies soon, he’ll be lucky if the necromancer even has the mana for another zombie. I believe in you, Crow, you were always brave, quick, and best of all, cunning. Even before our lord’s boon. With it, I know you’ll solve the problems ahead of you. Bring those dragons to our realm and bring our god victory. For everyone’s sake but especially for the master. He’s a good man and has been faithful to Lord Scrithax his whole, long life.

I can’t see how I might get another chance to write to you. So when the third day of Yelhios comes around, know that we will have a special service in the temple for your eighteenth birthday and be thinking of you, wherever you are.

My regards to young Belle. You can’t imagine how red-faced Mistress Aria is these days: all her plans to marry Belle to a duke are ruined. Of course, I think Belle is much better off seeing the world with you, but I keep quiet about that.

Much love, Crow, I pray for your safety every night.

‘Young Belle,’ I look up to see Belle shaking her head as she reads her own letter, ‘Mistress Withen wishes you well.’

‘That’s kind of her. Sadly, my mother has nothing good to say about you. Want to hear?’

I nod.

‘And mind that rascal Crow. He’ll have one thing on his mind. And it will ruin you for a decent marriage. You keep him at arm’s length. Best of all, you should come home after reading this. I know that the city is all talking about you. They say that Crow has five of the dragon’s teeth. But I doubt that. He’s a good-for-nothing. Stealing apples isn’t the same as getting one of those magic teeth, is it? Whether that’s true or not, there’s not a lot a dancer can do to help. You can come home now you’d done your part and use your new reputation to advantage here.

‘And she goes on like that. Honestly, she doesn’t know me at all. It’s sad really, because in her own way she’s not a bad woman.’

‘Not at all bad, I would say; it’s for your sake that she insists on getting her way. But what her mind cannot conceive, is that for you to be free, you had to leave.’

‘That’s it.’ Belle looks at me and I feel that we understand each other well, that I know Belle better than does her own mother. Then Belle breaks the moment to turn to the others. ‘Any news you want to share?’

Gerard looks up with a shrug. ‘Not much from my wife. She reckons I’ll be famous on my return and wants me to pick her up something on my travels. Some gold jewellery.’

This brings a chuckle from Lisandra. ‘That’s a woman who knows her priorities.’

‘My parents are proud for me. Worried though, as you expect them to be,’ Aarax sounds nonchalant but I can see the flames of our fire glistening in moist eyes.

‘Mine is from the necromancer,’ Lisandra pulls herself to her feet. ‘I’d better read it to you all.’

‘Nothing from your family?’ asks Belle.

‘Ahh, Belle, love. I lost my husband a long time ago. And zombies can’t write letters.’ Lisandra laughs, covering a sincere timbre of pain contained within her words.

‘Now, this what the necromancer says: Lady Lisandra and companions. What you have achieved gives the people hope. And hope is an extremely valuable commodity, one that no amount of tinkering with the realm’s menu can create. Thank you on behalf of all our citizens.

‘Relative to where you began, your achievement is remarkable and deserving of praise. Unfortunately, we must measure your success against the end and not the beginning. It is Telos, muse of ends, who dominates Archia, muse of beginnings. And from the perspective of the endgame I am sorry to have to urge you to be swifter in your travels.

‘After the brief respite caused by the fall of Trolland, when our eastern border re-opened for trade, we soon faced complete encirclement again. Ships from Jomskar continue to blockade the seas; an army from Southway controls the northern border and raids constantly; and, unfortunately, the Arkine Empire has joined the trade embargo of the Kingdom of Lost Souls. We had hoped for an alliance with them, but as you know, the other realms fear the power of the undead.

‘Our plan, therefore is to endure. To survive until events elsewhere oblige our enemies to divert their troops and ships. This will not be easy, we have to conserve our living and undead troops, conserve our iron ore, conserve our fuel, and, above all, conserve our food. Unless something changes and we can trade once more, starvation will destroy us before the next winter is over.

‘Your letter was the first welcome news to come to me in a very long time. Thank you for your efforts this far. Hurry though, always hurry, to complete your mission.’

Lisandra looks up rueful, letting out a long sigh and looking to the west. ‘That’s a lot of walking ahead. Including up those mountains.’

‘At least you have some hope for your realm,’ says Lady Horsta. ‘You should appreciate that. Your god is still in the game.’

Yes, so long as Nekis stands, Lord Scrithax is still in the game. And I must use his boon to maximum advantage.

I pack up my tent and roll it tight. Amaris has already harnessed the mules and he says nothing as I approach and tie my roll on to the saddle straps.

‘A beautiful dawn to start the day, and fair weather to see us on our way,’ I offer, by way of a conciliatory remark.

Of course the assassin says nothing in response, only looks at me with an expression that does not settle as it moves between scorn and hate.

Corwena on the other hand, having fluttered down to the rocks nearby, cannot restrain herself from chatting rapidly, often turning her head to look at the splendour of the dawn-lit lake. ‘Good morning. Good morning. And isn’t it a gorgeous one. Being here as the sun rises and shines on the lake always makes me want to sing, it is such a pleasure to be alive. And in the spring too. The long, winter darkness gives way to brightness and hours of play. And I am looking forward to my return home. You are leaving? Now you’ve seen the difficulty of the challenge. It’s a shame but perhaps you’ll come back here many years from now, when you have a Teleport spell.

‘When you’re ready, I’ll show you the way home. My home, of course, not your homes. Nekis, I know, from your message. And the Underworld, for your assassin. The inferni. I could not live there, away from the sky. Away from the sun. Away from the forest.’

‘Can you show us the way to Cantreth?’ asks Amaris, letting go of the mule’s bridle.

‘Cantreth? Oh no. My family expects me back long before then. Cantreth? So few trees. Not a place for followers of Maghuk, oh no. You go to Cantreth for that dragon’s tooth I suppose. Perhaps it is easier than ours.’

There’s something about the posture of the assassin that makes me feel on edge and, too late, my hand moves to the hilt of my rapier.

With a shriek, Corwena flies wildly, battering the air and me with flailing wings but getting nowhere until free of an ichor-covered blade whose tip I glimpse within the breast feathers of our bird friend. With a series of shorter and weaker hops, Corwena struggles to become airborne and escape.

‘She won’t get away,’ Amaris has wild eyes and I take several steps away from him before turning and running to Corwena, who has collapsed near Belle and Lisandra, and now lies on the ground panting with ragged breaths. A pale green foam oozes from her beak.

‘Mother,’ she whispers and her eye ceases to move.

‘What in Scrithax’s name have you done!’ screams Belle and the others come running over.

‘That bird was no use to us anymore. And she was obviously a spy. All that chat as we marched. She was finding out our levels and classes and destination. I did Crow a favour. If she had found out you had a tooth, she’d have been off to get an ambush ready. We wouldn’t have made it out of the forest.’

‘Oh, the poor thing.’ Lisandra is crying and stoops as though to pick up the dead bird-girl but holds back at the sight of blood and foam.

‘Spy or no spy, that was an evil act. You have broken our pact.’ I draw my rapier and dagger and judge the shadows. I’m not afraid for myself. With Blink and Shadow Step I should be able to keep away from a blade that still has an obvious streak of poison coating. If he intends to kill us all, though, I might not be able to protect the others.

While she no longer has her spells, a Level 6 paladin, on the other hand, should be a near match for Amaris. With a high number of hit points and her paladin’s resistances Lady Horsta can face him. Will she though? Though I dislike taking my eyes from the assassin I must know, where is she? What is she thinking?

Grim-mouthed and storm-faced, Lady Horsta is ten metres behind me tightening the straps of her shield; she is preparing for a fight.

Cheeks red with anger, Belle shouts, ‘We’re finished with you, Amaris. We’re not taking another step with you.’

‘You worshipers of the dead never were with me in the first place. Traitors. Liars. I’m better off without you.’ Amaris is looking past me, but I do not turn. I do not underestimate the speed at which the assassin can lunge and the power of that poison.

‘What about you Lady Horsta?’ Amaris asks.

‘Do you remember the terms of our alliance?’ I hear the steps of the paladin approach, her voice is cool.

‘What terms? An alliance is an alliance.’

‘You swore to do no evil.’

‘Killing that spy wasn’t evil, it was pragmatic.’

‘It was evil and our alliance is ended.’

Silence. Even the dawn chorus has ceased as though all the birds in the trees nearby are mourning the death of Corwena. Now the balance favours us and I am relieved and grateful to Lady Horsta. Surely, Amaris will not try to fight us now? Having disappointed Lady Horsta by my secrecy the previous night, it could have been that she would be neutral or even continue her alliance with Amaris. But no, I can see from Amaris’ thin lips and changed posture that he realises that if he fights us, he will be fighting Lady Horsta too.

‘You’re as much a fool as them. You’ve no realm to fight for. Why side with the undead lovers?’

‘They aren’t evil, as you have clearly proven yourself to be.’

‘One last chance,’ says Amaris. ‘Come with me or side with these people, who are better suited for music and dance than completing the Epic Quest.’

‘Leave. And if I see you again, I will consider you an enemy,’ Lady Horsta’s voice is cold, without anger, and carries utter conviction.

‘Very well. So much for a paladin’s oath. You do realise you won’t even leave this forest? I’ve killed them as well as the bird and you’ll share their fate. When the bird-people find this young one is dead, they will hunt you down.’

Fast, so very fast, Amaris runs away from us, slowing only slightly to slash the flanks of the mules with his poisoned blade. The poor creatures barely register shock before they are on their knees and then fully collapsed, snorting their last, desperate breaths. Looking on, helpless to save the mules, I realise I hate Amaris more than anyone I’ve ever met. And I feel that he will not permit me to complete the quest. Somewhere, perhaps here in this forest, he will try to kill me. I must focus my skills on being able to defeat him. Immediately, I swap out Shadow Step and take Wield Shortsword as my afk skill.

‘We need to run for the plains of Cantreth,’ says Gerard. ‘Amaris was right; when the bird-people come looking for Corwena, they are not going to wait to find out who killed her. They will slay us all.’

‘Even if we could outrun the bird-people, which I doubt, that’s not the right choice here. Our other option is to make a bier and carry her body back to her family so that they can mourn her properly.’

As soon as Lady Horsta speaks, I am certain she right. As are we all. Even Gerard nods.

Cutting down sturdy branches and interlacing the V we form with cords from the flexible branches of willows, it does not take long to make two travois that we can drag behind us, using the harnesses from the dead mules. One we load with essential equipment. On the other we gently put the dead bird-person. Myself and Aarax take the first turn pulling her bier behind me and I’m glad to do so. I failed Corwena. I should have known what Amaris was capable of and how furious he was that I had gained another dragon’s tooth and forgotten about him. As I lean into the harness and tread steadily on the path back east I say nothing. I am concentrating hard on Spot Hidden to ensure that Amaris is not following us, looking for an opportunity to attack.

A full day before we reach Corwena’s town, I begin to notice bird-people: glideflight when overhead, watching at a distance; patientgrip when high up in a tall tree well back from the path. What do they make of us? Are they hostile? Do they intend to attack? It is impossible to tell, but every hour another one joins in flight or in observation from a tree, until perhaps thirty are accompanying us. Despite constant vigilance, I have not seen Amaris all day and am fairly confident that he is not following us. At some point during the journey, the check between his Stealth and my Spot Hidden would have favoured me, even if his Stealth were higher than my 7 in Spot Hidden (which I doubted, it felt to me from our travels together that the assassin was a 4 in Stealth, perhaps only 3).

At last our sorry trail comes to an end. No longer does the sight of the bird-people town seem enchanting. Now it has an air of a disturbed nest of angry wasps, so many of its citizens are in the air above the trees.

Once, when I was about eight, some older boys took long sticks to what looked like a brown packet beneath a gutter. They ran as soon as it fell, partly laughing but mostly in genuine fear. Curious – O curious Crow, be careful, for you are always too curious – I went closer to view the fallen object and didn’t understand the dark mist above the brown paper, nor the tingling on my face and bare arms and legs. In fact, I laughed, wondering if magic had turned the air to bubbles. Only after the second sting and after brushing away a wasp and realising I was feeling their legs as they landed did I start to run. Behind me the swarm was like a pear, thick and spherical, with an elongated neck stretching towards me, formed by the fastest of the wasps.

On that day I discovered that the speed of an eight-year-old street urchin from Crumblin is exactly the same as that of an angry wasp. All I could do was sprint as fast as I could, for as long as I could. My usual escape tactics of swerving, of climbing, of using little hatches and windows and gutters, would not do. Any slowing down and that ball of hundreds of wasps would cover me. They were fixated on me and had no interest in stinging the people I ran past at stalls, and shops, or those idling or playing in the streets. At last, when I could hardly draw in enough breath, I reached the temple and slammed the door, keeping most of the swarm outside, though they continued to thump into the wood with surprising strength.

Later, as she sat with me in her lap, drying my tears, applying ointment and combing through my hair, Mistress Withen counted the dead wasps. Forty-two. By the following day, fear and pain dissipated, I was a boastful Crow: no other child had ever endured so many wasp stings.

What brings that memory back so sharply is that I can see the same terrifying shape of the attacking wasp colony as the bird-people begin to stream towards us from the trees of their town. Dropping the bier, Gerard and Aarax step away from the body of Corwena as hundreds of bird-people land on the limbs of nearby trees. And when these trees can no longer hold them, others fly down to the ground, forming a circle around us. They all have something in their beaks: green-leafed branches.

As I watch the townspeople assemble, my fear diminishes. They are not attacking. Not yet at least.

A tall bird-woman, mostly black-feathered but with brilliant white tips to her wings, flies down beside Corwena, dips her beak into the dead bird’s chest feathers, then looks up. When that hostile scrutiny lands on me, I hold it and look back into the tempest of yellow-ringed darkness, willing my thoughts to tell her: it was not us.

‘Why?’ her voice rings out like the cawing of a magpie.

Lady Horsta speaks loudly in response, as if to ensure all the bird-people can hear. ‘We had a traitor in our group. An evil traitor. The inferni. He hated some of us, and he hated bird-people even more. But he kept his intentions hidden until he realised he couldn’t get your dragon’s tooth. Then his anger overwhelmed him and he killed Corwena, hoping you would then kill us.’

A cold wind ruffles the feathers of the corpse and the wingtips of the spokesperson of the bird-people.

‘Go!’ cries the bird-woman.

‘Come on,’ mutters Gerard at once and picks up the travois with our gear. Hurriedly, I go to help him and we go back down the path while we can. When I look back, I see the bird-people taking turns to fly down to the body and drop a branch upon it, so that it is soon a small, sad mound of green.

‘It’s true then,’ says Aarax after the violent rocking has eased. ‘I wonder if you could lasso the tooth though, we got fairly close.’

‘Probably the wind will block small objects as well as big ones,’ Belle is in the front of the canoe. ‘But let’s try.’ She unsheathes the +1 dagger that she obtained from one of the bodies in the troll cave. It is a beautiful blade, shaped like a thin triangle, with a purple sheen at its edges, suggesting that it cuts into realms invisible to our eyes. Surely she will not throw it? No, she is prising out a large splinter from the canoe.

We edge closer… but not too close… and Belle’s throw is strong. As the chunk of wood reaches the boundary, again the magical wind interposes and the splinter is thrown aside with contempt, splashing into the lake and floating there.

‘Oh, well.’ Aarax raises his paddle again, as if to turn the canoe.

‘Don’t give up yet; I have a skill called Shadow Step.’ I explain to my friends the nature of my skill and both look at me with eager eyes.

‘Crow, you are like a chest of endless treasurers. You just keep producing magic.’ Belle’s smile is heartwarming. Magical Crow. It’s true, I’ve made choices all along that have favoured magic over more conventional rogue skills.

‘Try it now?’

We are certainly in shadow, for twilight has come and – except for orange-tinged treetops to the east – the whole lake is shaded. Carefully balancing in the middle of the boat, I concentrate on my much practiced new skill and take a step.

Shadow Step failure

There are no shadows distinct enough to travel through.

Settling back down, I shake my head and explain the system message.

For a short interval, we stay quiet on the boat. I listen to the evening calls of nightingales, look at the circles that form on the water as insects land or the larger ones as a fish lunges from the dark, mouth first, for an evening snack. It excites me that we are this close to another dragon’s tooth. Yet I feel frustration too.

Then Aarax says, ‘I think I have the answer. We come back at night with a lamp and a tall stick. The lamp beam might be strong enough to cast a distinct shadow from the stick to the island.’

‘That’s it! That’s a great idea Aarax. We can make a shadow long enough from here,’ Belle’s enthusiastic voice drops an octave. ‘But let’s go out quietly ourselves and not tell Amaris about Crow’s new skill. Amaris is becoming angrier and angrier. I think he’s realising that Crow is much more likely to complete the quest before he does. And I fear what he might do.’

Clever Aarax. I am filled with energy and wish to leap about but must continue to sit. At least I can paddle with purpose, helping bring the canoe back to shore where the others are watching us.

‘No good,’ says Belle as we reach shore.

‘What did you expect?’ Amaris is scornful. ‘That it was a bluff and there were no defences?’

Lady Horsta frowns at the assassin’s tone; from his grin, Gerard finds the remark amusing.

That night we camp at the lakeside and I ensure that Belle is on the same watch as me. When our turn comes we wait about an hour and then Belle takes my hand and we use Stealth to quietly leave the camp, bringing with us a lantern and a thick stick.

‘Should we wake Aarax?’ Whispers Belle.

‘You and I can quietly creep; best to leave him to his sleep.’

We cannot, however, avoid a certain amount of scraping sounds as we push the canoe out into the black water.

Then we are on our midnight adventure, Belle and I. A sky almost entirely covered in cloud means that is very dark, the campfire a real beacon and, as we recede from it, an orange star more vivid than any of those above in the few areas of night sky where the clouds have parted. Two Crows are in the boat: one is alert, anxious, wondering might the lake contain monsters, hearing the cries of the owls as sinister; the other is happy, appreciative that Belle is beside him, thinking of how far they have travelled together, enjoying their comradeship, hearing the cries of the owls as a new experience to be relished.

It is the as the second, more content, Crow I cease to once our lantern beam makes the rock and dragon’s tooth ahead of us shine like silver and bronze. We back-paddle until the canoe is at rest. Then, Belle holds the stick in front of the lantern, it casts a very distinct shadow onto the small island.

‘Will that work?’ she asks me.

Standing in the canoe is not easy and as our craft rocks, the shadow swings wildly. Several minutes pass until I am steady, with the black line of the stick’s shadow where we want it to be, and I can step – with barely enough room at the front of the canoe to avoid falling into the lake should I fail – onto the thin shadow from our stick.

And out of it onto the rocky island.

There is no reaction from the magic that protects the island. All remains still, dark, and quiet.

This is no time for a Crow dance, for a shout of victory, even for a triumphant wave to Belle. No, I simply grab the tooth and step back into the canoe.

You have completed a stage of the Epic Draco Missio

You have gained 1,000 EXP

Dragon’s Tooth of Sartas

A long, ivory fang, this tooth radiates magic.

This item can be soulbound. Do you wish to bind it to your soul?

This item is unique.

YES / NO

Soulbinding

If an item is soulbound, it moves into an extra-dimensional inventory and cannot be removed from you. This also means it cannot be traded or given to another.

Unique

You may only possess one of these items.

Of course I choose YES.

‘Well done Crow! That’s five!’ From my grin, as well as the absence of the tooth from its spawn point, Belle must know I have taken another step towards completing the quest.

Our eyes speaking for our silent mouths, we celebrate the achievement with delight and happiness for a few minutes, before settling down to paddle back to the camp. I try to place my wooden blade in the water and push it without a sound, not always succeeding. There must be a large penalty to Stealth checks in this circumstance.

At the lakeshore, Amaris waits for us, squatting and tense, like a snake. My delight in our success is immediately forgotten. Now that I see him, I realise that I knew all along we would not deceive the assassin. That it was inevitable he would be here, in the dark, angry.

‘You got the tooth,’ he says, not moving to help as we jump out and haul up the canoe.

‘Crow got it, yes,’ Belle replies.

‘Why the secrecy?’

‘We didn’t want Corwena to know.’

This is a good answer and I admire Belle for it; a good enough answer to satisfy the assassin?

‘I see.’

No, not good enough. I can hear the disbelief in his flat voice.

Amaris stands now, arms folded. ‘And how did you get past the winds?’

‘You know Crow can Blink,’ Belle does not look at the inferni, putting the oars carefully back in the canoe. ‘We hoped that out on the lake, although random, the Blink would not drop him in the water but land him on the only secure spot nearby.’

Again I am impressed by how easily Belle can make up plausible lies, this time her response seems effective. As Amaris says, ‘Lucky for you Crow. Once again you have a dragon’s tooth and I do not. Did you soulbind it yet?’ He only has to look at me to know. ‘Of course you did.’

Never has an eagle glared with such intensity at its prey as the inferni stares at me. Such hostility and such hated is in his expression that it ought to be unbearable. Yet I am Lord Scrithax’s finest fellow and I do not flinch.

‘You people from Nekis think I’m a fool!’ After this shout echoes around the lake, there are urgent noises from the tents behind me.

‘What’s going on?’ I hear Lady Horsta’s voice, but I do not take my eyes from the assassin.

‘Crow got the Dragon’s Tooth. He tried to do it without my knowing. And he soul-bound it, so now he can’t get another one for me. These undead-lovers are using me. Using my six levels. They have no intention of helping me.’

‘Have you got the tooth?’ asks Lady Horsta. The others are awake too.

I nod.

‘Were you trying to hide that from us?’

I nod again.

‘I should kill you all now,’ says Amaris ‘You know I can.’ He moves his hands to his weapons. ‘You’re no match for me. Not even combined.’

At the same time, Lady Horsta sounds disappointed. ‘That’s not very honourable; Crow, an alliance is an alliance.’

Instinctively, I want to justify my actions by expressing my certainty that Amaris intends to kill me one day, when the prospect of my completing the quest ahead of him is evident. From Lady Horsta’s point of view, though, an alliance was indeed an alliance.

‘I apologise. I should have obtained one for Amaris. I will do so next time. I will learn from this.’

‘Calm yourself, Amaris.’ Lady Horsta pushes past me. ‘Crow will make amends and help you to obtain other dragon’s teeth that you can’t obtain alone.’

‘Will he though?’ the inferni’s words blur into a hiss.

‘Let’s go back to our tents. Why don’t we all go back to our tents?’ Gerard looks from Amaris to me and back.

A spit from the assassin lands near me. And then he walks away without another word into the dark of the forest.

As the rest of us walk back towards the fire, I examine my feelings. Accompanying Amaris on this quest is becoming unbearable. Perhaps dangerous too. Do we still need him? A level six character is certainly powerful. The calculating mind says to persist with him, that he might yet prove invaluable. My heart screams at me to get away from him, as though I was under the shadow of a raptor.

‘Well, that’s a sight worth travelling for,’ says Lisandra.

‘Useless,’ Amaris shakes his head. ‘In the Underworld, an invading army becomes lost and disorientated in tunnels we can close. Here, they are exposed. Why, just a Fireball or two and this whole town burns.’

‘To live beneath an open sky, makes sense for those who can all fly. Perhaps these people care not for homes that can be built again, so long as they can escape, every one of them. While if trapped when underground, what hope is there for those who are found?’

Much as I loved the narrow alleys and uneven rooftops of Crumblin, this was an appealing place to my eyes. Much more so than any of the towns we have travelled through up until now. It is busy, too, with bird-people circling the skies; landing on branches; taking off; gathering in small groups. Here, they are unconcerned with hiding from us. As I study the flight of these people (very little wing movement, mostly they glide), one of them begins to move in our direction and quickly descends to the ground just in front of Gerard, the foremost member of our party.

‘Hello. Hello. Who are you? I don’t mind talking to you. The others won’t. Not them. But I don’t mind. I’m not afraid. Who are you?’ She turns her head rapidly back and forth and skips as she speaks, alert for threats. I like her, with her feathers of brown, black and grey; her red tunic; her melodious voice. She’s small, about chest high to me, and might be a youth.

‘We are… er… travellers,’ says Gerard.

‘Traders?’ The birdperson hops from one leg to the other and back again. ‘Did you bring grain? Seeds? Birdmeal? Where’s your cart? What’s on those mules? I don’t smell any food? Why are you here? What do you want?’

I take a slow step forward, hands visible, unthreatening. ‘Your people can fly fast but we are slow when we roam; we want to pay for someone to carry a message to our home.’

While I am speaking she stiffens, eyes blinking rapidly and fixed on mine. Then she dances again, looking at the ground as much as up at the sky.

‘I see; I see. Yes, yes. One of our eagles would be best. He’ll want at least a gold. Wait here, come no closer to our town. Sleep here. There’s a stream for your water. Lovely stream. Refreshing. Never stops. Not even in the dry summer. You can splash in it too. There are pools. Little pools.’

Her wings spread. She is about to fly off but remains with her clawed feet on the ground when Lisandra says. ‘And also, we’d like to attempt your dragon’s tooth challenge. Can you tell us where to find it?’

‘Oh, now I see.’ The birdwomen skips away and I regret Lisandra’s words. Have we frightened her? Will we be attacked by her people? We would not have much hope against flying opponents. Before I can concern myself too much with this prospect, I am relieved to see her move rapidly around us, studying us, turning her head to view us from one eye and then the other. ‘Shadowknight, assassin, mage, druid, rogue, fighter? No, paladin. And another rogue? No. Not quite. Not sure.

‘You are adventurers. You want the dragon army. We all want the dragon army. Sartas will fly with dragons. You’ll see. You are stuck on the ground and slow. You’ll never solve the quest. But the rules mean you are allowed to try. It is at a lake. I’ll show you the way. Slow as you are it might take two days. I’m allowed away for four days. So that’s possible.’

With a jump she floats in the air, wings outstretched. Not like the fluttering of a bird, her flight is steadier and more controlled. More magical. A glance to the west, to where there is a line of dark clouds blocking the setting sun. Then she lands again near to us and I am glad. I am fascinated by this youth and envious that she can fly.

‘Rain tomorrow. But Maghuk will not breathe hard upon us. Blessed Maghuk. God of flight and life. Best of gods. For everyone else belongs to the earth. We alone have the skies. I’m not afraid. I will show you. Stay here. Make your nests. I will come tomorrow and I will take your message to an eagle.’

This said, the birdwoman flies away without looking back at us.

‘I like her,’ says Belle. ‘I like her a lot. And wouldn’t it be useful to have her help for our travels?’

‘If you could put up with the chatter, maybe,’ replies Gerard.

Once our camp is made and we have eaten – the last of the bread, which was already hard, dipped in lentil stew – and at Lisandra’s urging, I write a few lines to Mistress Withen and Master Cathaldus on our joint message to Nekis. Writing is not easy for me, despite having a priest as my tutor. Words on paper are heartless and intimidate me. Still, I must let them know I am thriving and that they must feel hope for our god, our city, and for themselves.

For Mistress Withen and Master Cathaldus. Be pleased to know, your adopted Crow is level four and four also is the number for the collection of dragon teeth forthcoming this far. I am as fine a fellow as Lord Scrithax could have hoped for. For whatever the hardship, however many enemies press forward to the walls of the city, be sure that your fortunate Crow has not forsaken you and is trying his best to bring a dragon army forward to aid our people.

The thought of you makes me homesick for Crumblin, yet my travels through foreign forests and over forty fords grant me the pleasure of seeing new realms and meeting new people.

Remain hopeful. Our God’s boon is proving to be formidable.

Pleased with my message, that night in my blanket I dream of the temple that is my home and of Mistress Withen, whose chores I do not object to, and of Master Cathaldus, maintaining the rituals of prayer, even though our god is too withdrawn to grant him any spells. The three of us are happy and confident that our god will return one day. Yet as I sweep the entrance hall, I become aware I am being watched. Who is it? A friend? Lisandra? Belle? No, there is malice present. Amaris. I must be careful. Amaris wants to enter the temple as a wolf and spill the blood of my adopted family.

In the morning, the rain anticipated by our young birdperson has arrived: a misty drizzle that coats the trees and the ground in moisture. Under our capes then, we pack up and follow our new guide, once she has returned from taking our message and two gold coins back to her town. Whoever the courier is, they do not want to meet us and talk to us directly.

Corwena is the name of our birdfriend. Once our feet are on the right path, she flutters back and forth, side to side, landing to talk, then flying again. How slow we must seem to her. How limited. Like the worms she is always seeking with her pale-yellow beak.

With abrupt turns and jerks of her head, Corwena lands near me and asks, ‘Are you part bird?’

‘My name is Crow, what makes you wonder so?’

‘I cannot say. It’s not something I even know myself. Why did I ask the question? You have no wings. You can’t be a follower of Maghuk. There must be something in your manner. In the way you move. The way you constantly look around, up and down, side to side. Like a bird, it will be hard for a hunter to catch you unaware.’

‘I wish I could fly; what joy to move through the sky.’

‘Oh, indeed. Joy is the word. I still remember when I was a fledgling, hoping around on the ground with the other fledglings. Leaping. Trying so hard to fly. And our teacher was laughing at all our efforts. “Not like that at all,” she would say as we flapped our wings as fast as we could and made boasts that we had lifted ourselves. “It’s the flow of mana from Maghuk that you fly upon. Feel for that energy with your mind, with your whole body.” But of course we were all too busy flapping. And then the quietest one of us all, the least boastful, the least vigorous, the one we all felt would be last to fly, she rose up to a branch and looked at the rest of us jumping around and she stepped off the branch. Just for a moment I thought she would fall, but no, so beautiful now, she swerved through the air on long curves and soared into the town to show her parents.

‘Well, soon after, I stopping lashing my wings at the air and with my eyes closed I imagined myself flying. Then it came to me, the beauty of the world, like a golden cloak flowing down from the treetops. Whispering, come, come find out. The skies soothed me; Maghuk surrounded me; the sun sceptred and jewelled beckoned me; until at last I was in the air. The air. I was fast and nimble. I was alive. I was flying. Joy. Oh yes, it is a joy to fly.’

As though even to speak of flying created an irresistible impulse, Corwena jumps away from me and gliding more than beating her wings, sweeps along the path ahead for about two hundred metres, before landing among bracken and searching with her beak beneath damp branches for a snack.

Late afternoon on our second day of walking westwards the forest ends at the edge of a large lake, whose far shore was indistinct and made evident only by the treeline. All about us are signs of former camps: the ash of at least three different campfires; boot prints in dried mud; trees with branches sawn through; a dozen stumps. There are also two canoes here drawn well away from the water, roughly made but long enough to take four people each.

There is a small island in the middle of the lake, not much bigger than a rock. On that island is a plinth and in the yellow, late-afternoon light, gleaming as it slowly rotates above the plinth, is a dragon’s tooth.

‘There you see it. Your goal. Though it will not be easy to attain. If you try to approach over the water in those craft, you will be pushed away by a powerful wind.’ Corwena hops along the shore of the lake, sometimes splashing in the gently lapping dark water. She turns and comes back when Amaris calls.

‘Hey, bird, what happens if you fly over there?’

‘If I try to fly there, the same magical wind will force me back, no matter what direction I approach from.’

‘Thought so,’ says the assassin. ‘Just checking. Well, do you know how we are supposed to get that tooth?’

After a little splash of her wings in the water, Corwena hops back to us. ‘I believe you must go close enough to use a Teleport spell, one that will take you beyond the wall of winds. That’s what our champions do. Our mages obtain all air domain spells as though three levels higher than humans, including Teleport. What level spell is it for you?’

Lisandra answers, ‘Teleport? I think perhaps I’d have to be Level Nine. It’s so advanced though, I’m not sure it’s even available to me.’

‘Well that’s the point of the challenge I suppose. To favour my people over all others. It’s still fair though. Within the rules. No monsters. No traps, that I know of. Just turning there, so close. Yet protected by Maghuk’s breath. Perhaps someone got there? Probably not. Level Nine is very hard to achieve. Are there even any Level Nines in the world? It is said that our high priest is Level Eight. What are you, mage? If you don’t mind sharing?’

‘Three,’ says Lisandra, ‘I’m Level Three. Not too far from Four.’

‘Perhaps one day you can come back. For now though, you won’t be able to get that tooth. I’m happy about that. Forgive me. You understand, I’m sure. You want to complete the quest first. Well, so do our champions. And our people need the dragons more than you.’

‘Another realm we will have to conquer first,’ says Amaris bitterly. ‘Oh well, at least it will be easy.’

Is our birdfriend troubled by such a statement? Perhaps, because for once she is silent, watching Amaris as the tips of her feathers tremble in a slight breeze.

‘Seeing as we are here, we should at least row out and experience the defences for ourselves,’ says Belle and she walked over to a canoe.

I move to join her, as does Aarax and together we push the boat along the muddy shore until it floats in shallow water.

There is not much hope among my companions, I can tell. For my part though, I study the lengthening shadows of the trees on the far side of the lake and I do not despair.

While building up the fire and setting up a larger pot for our meal, I ask, ‘Do you not have any curiosity, as to why my friends and I are free?’

‘Some. I suppose.’

‘What then, stirs your soul? When passionate, what is your goal?’

For some time she says nothing, only eats her meal and watches me go about my preparations and I think she will not reply at all. Though, at last, she does.

‘Silver broaches. And one above all. One at Thradgull’s silversmith. A masterwork, you hear me?’ Her glance is urgent, as if I was set to dispute her judgement. ‘There’s a dragon on top, see, alert like a lizard, on top of a pile of coins. Thradgull wants fifty silver pieces for the broach.’ She takes a deep breath and sighs, her voice dropping an octave, ‘I have to admit the price is fair. The king himself might wear a broach like that. But I only have nine coins saved. Someone else will buy that beauty long before I have fifty silver pieces.’

I come closer to the dwarf, to see glints of tears in her deep-lined face. I don’t even know our guide’s name but for some reason I am filled with empathy for her. While the gods battle and rulers march armies across the Twenty-Five Kingdoms, our guide has concerns in her hometown, concerns that matter as much to her as the great game does to a king. And is it wrong to be passionate about a well-crafted, silver broach?

After our meal, I go early to my tent and blanket, mostly for the pleasure of deciding upon my new skill choices. Firstly, before I can persuade myself otherwise, I put one of my five points into Dance. Such an indulgence. And not a skill that can be justified in any way other than this: it is a happy Crow who daydreams of being the dance partner that Belle deserves. And a happy Crow is more likely to save Nekis than a glum one.

Looking at the tantalising list of available skills from my previous level gains, I want them all, of course. The ones that most appeal to me, however, are Pickpocket and Forgery. These will complement my Disguise 10 skill and might allow me to access to well-guarded areas, ones impossible to breach with Stealth. Then too, for the combat in the arena of Northway, which I must face one day, I might need a ranged weapon, so Wield Shortbow has to be high on my list. Crow the archer. It suits me. I can imagine running along a rooftop, releasing arrows with great accuracy having maximised my shortbow skill. Oh, yes. Jaunty at this prospect, I go ahead and select Wield Shortbow, leaving me with three points to spend and a strong desire to buy a shortbow.

What new options have I unlocked? Quick Draw brings a weapon from its sheath into my hand in an instant; Avoid Ambush allows me to anticipate surprise enemy attacks; Blurred Targeting makes me harder to strike with ranged attacks.

And then there is a new magical skill: Shadow Step.

Shadow Step: requirements, Stealth 10, Mana 5.

At the cost of 5 mana, the rogue can step into a shadow and so long as it is continuous, step out of it at any point up to a distance of ten metres per level of the skill.

There is something about magic that thrills me. To be a conduit for that sparkling flow of energy which accompanies the use of a magical skill is to feel my feathers being ruffled in an ecstatic way. For the few seconds that my mana is flowing, I feel connected to a universe that surrounds us with incandescent energy, but which is hidden from us except when we touch it. It is fortunate that such touches are always brief. To bathe in magic for long would be to dissolve oneself entirely into the silver energy that underlies the world.

Always the magical skills are those that I want. And this one is justified by its versatility. More, the fact that of all the rogues in the Twenty-Five Kingdoms I am uniquely able to create a large mana pool means I would be a fool not to obtain all the magic skills I can. So I select Shadow Step and also make it my afk skill. To be able to step five metres through shadow is impressive. If I could step fifty metres though, that would be a real power.

With my last two available skill points I return to my contemplation of Pickpocket and Forgery and select them. Interesting as the other options are, I have to plan for all the possible ways in which a dragon’s tooth might be protected. Deceit could be more of a weapon than my new +1 rapier, my share of the loot from the bodies of the dead adventurers.

My skill menu is a marvel to study.

My intuition is that Shadow Step is a skill of considerable importance. Were I to master being able to step in and out of shadows at large distances, I would be both safer, more difficult to attack, and more dangerous.

Closing all the menus, I pull my blanket up to my shoulder and hope that while I dream, my new skill will level up.

After detouring back to the cave with the dragon’s tooth, which Amaris, understandably, insisted upon collecting for himself, we decide not to return to the dwarven capital of Kadunskil but walk westwards towards the border with Sartas, the land of the bird-people. To the disappointment of our dwarven guide, we let her go; we have no further work for her as if we are successful in Sartas we will go north to Cantreth. All the same, when she is out of sight of the others, I use Stealth to slip away from my group and hurry to catch up with her.

‘Wait. Here, have these.’ I pass over the jade-handled knife and silver mirror I stole from Amaris when we were his prisoners in the barn. It is dangerous to keep them, but for some reason I did not want to return them to the assassin. The night I gained them was the night he would have killed me.

The young dwarf blinks and glances at me for a brief moment. ‘Why so much?’

‘For your silence. We are entertainers. Best not mention we also collected a dragon’s tooth.’

She nods.

‘And also for your broach. Is this enough?’

‘They should be. With a bit of bargaining. The mirror is well made, a proper silversmith did that. Elven? Inferni?’ Suddenly, she walks briskly up to me and wraps her arms around my waist. ‘Thank you.’

Unexpectedly wide, with teeth displayed in what might be interpreted as a contorted expression of imminent violence, the sight of our guide’s mouth only conveyed happiness due to it being accompanimed by eager, soul-warmed eyes. Alarming is the smile of a dwarf.

Shycrow, I detach myself from the embrace and salute the dwarf before leaving her, telling myself that even in the most dour and inexpressive people surge passions like roaring seas.

Over the next three days we travel along a path by a stream that flows through a valley filled with pine trees. These are merry days for me, ones in which my new skill rises to Level 4 and I practice stepping into shadows and stepping out of them at a distance. So long as I use Stealth and take care to choose my moment, I can keep this ability secret, above all from the assassin.

My friends are all cheerful too. After all, the weather is good – bright spring skies; birds finding their mates – and we have a shared sense of accomplishment. At Lisandra’s suggestion we agree that we will spend some of our coin on hiring one of the bird-people to try to bring a report on our progress back to Nekis. Perhaps our people will be in need of some encouragement. I am sure that if the news that I am alive reaches Crumblin, it will bring a happy tear to the eyes of Mistress Withen, while Cathaldus might manage a grunt of approval.

The border from Grimlar to Sartas is a stone bridge, with a high arch, like that of a caterpillar when it gathers itself to move. Beneath the bridge is a narrow, dark river. On our side of it is a sturdy, stone guard-post, just ten metres tall but the narrow windows indicate it has two levels. I would have to crouch while I was inside such a small fort. There are four dwarves here, armoured, interested only in collecting a tax from us. Whether this was for the use of the bridge or some kind of fee for leaving the realm, their taciturn officer did not make clear, but we paid without argument.

On the far side of the bridge was a sign with large, black writing: You are not welcome in Sartas. If you have business here then enter but know we are always watching you.

‘Friendly,’ says Lisandra, amused.

‘I hate them,’ Amaris raises his voice, looking around at the treelines on either side of the path. ‘One day, an army from the Underworld will come here and burn all their towns.’

The aggression in the assassin causes my good humour to fall away. Do we really need him? Probably. At least until after collecting the dragon’s tooth from Underworld. This journey, however, would be more pleasant without Amaris. Always ready to laugh, Lisandra’s company is a joy. Belle and Aarax too are cheerful by nature and talkative. Walking alongside them for long distances feels effortless. Even Gerard has a sense of humour, albeit a mocking one. Amaris, though, is misery on two legs and treats me with particular hostility. There will come a day when we fight, of this I’m sure, and to travel with such a person is to travel with a weight upon my back.

As for Lady Horsta, she says little that isn’t concerned with the necessities of our journey. Withdrawn and unhappy, she tends to walk somewhat apart from us and in silence. Where do her loyalties lie now? The fact that she is angry with Amaris for running away from the dwarf caves – even though, as he quite rightly pointed out, it was I who shouted at everyone to do so – makes me wonder if the paladin now favours me over the assassin. Does the fall of Southway mean that her realm’s alliance with Underworld is broken? Is she free to decide who she wants to support? If so, and if the fall of the Arkine Empire is her goal, then she would be better aligned with me, not Amaris. I’ve one more dragon tooth than the assassin. And what’s more, I came back for her when she was in prison.

To cheer myself up, I hurry on to walk beside Belle. Our path is a cart-track: two brown lines of mud through green grass and spring flowers. On either side, the treeline of a great forest begins some fifty metres away. The trees here are mostly oak, ash and hazel, with some silver birch too and less common trees like the willow, and juniper, cherry. With buds only just appearing on their branches the cherry trees are months away from bearing fruit, which is a shame. The same walk in late summer would be a delicious one and just the thought of a ripe cherry was causing my mouth to moisten.

‘Are they really watching Crow?’ asks Belle.

Even with my Spot Hidden at 7 it takes me a long, careful look at the trees nearby before I spot a birdperson, high, standing beside the trunk of a tall oak, wings folded. Proud-eyed, sharp-beaked he wears a bandolier over a garment like a pale-green apron. His only weapons seem to be his claws. And having seen this one, my mind makes an adjustment and I am aware of a dozen more in the heights of the treetops, some with spears and bows.

‘They really are.’

Gerard spits and makes an expression of disgust. ‘At least you didn’t have to eat raw troll!’

After our lanterns are lit, a solicitous Aarax offers to cast his two Cure Light Wounds spells on whomever needs them the most and we check our hit points. I am down four, from banging my head on the wall; Lisandra two, from punching herself; and Gerard also down four from running himself hard into a wall.

‘And I am on six out of sixteen,’ says Yuliaka, the survivor of the earlier party. I had been about to propose that Gerard take a cure and we save the other.

We are all looking at her now and Lady Horsta even directs a lantern full upon the woman’s bedraggled face, until she raises an arm and the sleeve of her green robe shadows her eyes. The bright light is dipped, the woman relaxes.

‘What are we going to do with you?’ says our paladin.

‘Well, I’ve been in your situation, near enough,’ she replies, ‘meeting another champion after they failed a dragon tooth test.’

‘And what did you do?’ asks Lisandra.

‘Some of my party,’ she gestures to the bodies in the room, ‘wanted to kill her, as a rival.’

‘Right,’ says Gerard and his tone is not friendly. Nevertheless, Yuliaka smiles at him.

‘I pointed out that she had a lot to offer us and so we let her go, after an exchange, of course.’

‘Exchange?’ wonders Aarax aloud.

‘Of information.’

Lisandra’s voice is slightly thicker than usual, making me feel sympathy for her sore mouth. ‘You mean about how to solve other dragon tooth challenges?’

‘I do.’

‘We could do that,’ says Lady Horsta, ‘and let you go on your way.’

‘Thank you,’ Yuliaka replies, getting to her feet with winces and grunts of pain. ‘And perhaps you can spare a heal? You are traveling together and are safe. I will be leaving here alone.’

What’s my intuition about Yuliaka? I’m unsure. That was a quick move, to make Lady Horsta’s suggestion our course of action, even before the rest of us had offered our opinions. I would not disagree with letting her go; probably only Amaris, were he here, would want to kill her as a potential rival. If I felt warmer towards Yuliaka, I might even suggest she stays with us, that we add her to our alliance. There’s an ambivalence in me, though, that keeps such a proposal unspoken. I know nothing about her.

‘Let’s talk first,’ says Belle, squatting near the robed woman. And I too, sit, cross-legged and listen, keen to learn what I can about other realms and their dragon’s tooth challenges.

Yuliaka is a summoning mage from Zatu, a people I have not encountered before; their realm is north of ours, beyond Southway, and beyond the impassable Snowfell Peaks. Their god is Maghuk, with power over the winds. Their dragon tooth spawn point is kept on a lake island and those who try to sail, row, or fly to the island will always be pushed back from it by a magical wind.

We tell her about the Nekis challenge and, in return for revealing that the secret to solving ours is to use an undead being to collect the tooth, she tells us that we must Teleport to the island or summon a golem or other assistant on the far side of the wind barrier, which is at the shore of the island.

Her party first travelled to Langia, a wild people who hang sacrifices on the branches of their tree god. The people of Langia worship Weckad, an evil treant whose roots, they say, spread beneath all the twenty-five kingdoms. They practice human sacrifice by hanging outsiders on the branches of treants, who then drain the body of blood that they feed on. One of these dark, vampiric, trees holds the dragon’s tooth. It is, by the mage’s account, a frighting journey through a hostile forest to reach that tree, though the actual climb through the branches to the treetop is not too dangerous if you arrive during daylight and are careful not to wake the evil treant.

To learn is always a pleasure. If I were not a rogue an excellent scholar I would make. Yet the mountain is beginning to have a stronger and stronger presence in my mind. It is not that I sense danger; I just do not like being confined and these tunnels and rooms are not the habitat for me, being so far from air and light. What if some monster or hostile party of champions were to arrive while we are still inside the mountain? I therefore want to postpone my learning until I feel safer.

‘Shall we continue this important conversation, when we have left our current station?’

‘Yes, let’s,’ says Aarax eagerly. ‘I was going to say the same. Let’s get away from all these bodies.’

‘Fine by me,’ Yuliaka, with some difficulty gets to her feet. She is tall and her attentive glances to monitor everyone reminds me of a stork, constantly turning its head to anticipate possible predators. There is a question in her thoughts.

‘Can you show us the room with the spawn point?’ asks Lisandra.

Yuliaka nods but her expression is not entirely positive. ‘I thought you might ask me that. What kind of understanding have we arrived at? A constructive one I assume. One where we continue to share information. Perhaps I might even get that heal and enough food for the walk back to Kadunskil. No doubt you can find the dragon’s tooth without me, but it’s not obvious and my assistance will make this a lot quicker for you.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ says Lady Horsta and with nods from the rest of us, Aarax casts his remaining Cure Light Wounds on the mage, to her considerable relief, to judge by the closed eyes and rapturous expression.

Yuliaka is right that the route to the tooth is not obvious. A circuit of eight rooms have all the signs – all the mess and foul odour – of having been used by a community of trolls and it is not until a sliding section of wall is moved to reveal a hidden corridor that we reach our goal: a plinth with a dragon’s tooth upon it.

Our guide gestures to Lady Horsta, inviting her to claim the key and Yuliaka raises her eyebrows with curiosity when everyone waits for me to step up. Of course, I never rush when traps might be present and it is only after circling the plinth slowly, actively using my Find Traps skill and being confident there are none do I put my hand upon my fourth dragon’s tooth.

You have completed a stage of the Epic Draco Missio

You have gained 1,000 EXP

You have gained a level. You are now a rogue, Level 4

You have 5 skill points to distribute

Dragon’s Tooth

A long, ivory fang, this tooth radiates magic.

This item can be soulbound. Do you wish to bind it to your soul?

YES / NO

Soulbinding

If an item is soulbound, it moves into an extra-dimensional inventory and cannot be removed from you. This also means it cannot be traded or given to another.

Four dragon’s teeth! Four! The Kingdom of Lost Souls; Trolland; The Arkine Empire and now Grimlar. I am the finest fellow and my god was not mistaken to entrust me with his boon. Calm though, must descend on butterfly wings to wrap me in her soothing arms. I look at the others in the room with little more than a smile and a nod, rather than the cavorting skips that my body wishes to indulge in.

What’s more, I am a rogue of Level 4. This, I had not anticipated and it only makes sense when I open my menu alerts to find that I had gained (an undeserved) 250 XP reward for killing the troll and (a thoroughly earned) 1,200 XP reward for killing a ‘soul spirit’. I have unlocked new, Level 4 class skill options and of course I still had those from earlier levels I could choose to spend my five skill points on. Happy is the crow who can contemplate upon gaining skills. That pleasure, however, would have to wait. For now, I closed all my menus and turned away from the plinth.

Led by Lisandra, the others were leaving, though Lady Horsta was waiting to speak to me.

‘Congratulations Crow,’ she slapped me on the upper back, ‘I’m envious though. I know how you must feel. That’s another big step towards aiding your realm and your god. I just wish I could still have that feeling too. That purpose.’

‘Revenge upon the Arkine Empire is a big enough goal to fill anyone’s soul.’

‘True. I have a purpose. But it’s a dark, bitter pleasure compared to yours.’

When we are back at the room with the bodies, Lisandra pauses, slowly turning her lantern to view the scene. Then she puts her light upon the ground and with practiced gestures and a muttered incantation, casts a spell. I am sure that the spell is Detect Magic, for it must have occurred to her, as it has me, that these dead adventurers might have owned valuable items.

‘Oh, must you,’ says Yuliaka as Belle moves to the corpse of a leather-armoured male and starts unfastening a pouch at his belt.

‘Of course we must. And don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same,’ Belle replies without looking up.

With Lisandra’s guidance, we efficiently strip the bodies of coin – much of it displaying the head of King Richard of Northway – and other gear that interests us, as well as a magical rapier (+1), a magical dagger (+1), two potions of Healing and one of Invisibility.

Before we start a long discussion as to who should get which of the magic items, I urge everyone to move outside, to where we cannot so easily be trapped.

To my pleasant surprise, when we leave the caves that the dwarves built for their dragon-tooth challenge the sky is still light: mostly deep blue, with some pink-tinged whisps of cloud. Now that I feel safe, I allow myself congratulations and daydreams. Mistress Within and Master Cathaldus come to mind and I wish they could see me. Mistress Within would hug me close and whisper, well done Crow, well done. Master Cathaldus would grunt approvingly, hold my gaze for a moment and mutter, not bad, not bad at all.

How are they managing without me? Well enough, I hope. The people of Crumblin have great affection for the old priest. Even if the city is short of food, they won’t let him starve.

Raised voices from downslope bring me back to being Crow on the mountainside. Amaris is there and Lady Horsta is shouting at him, flinging her arms around with evident complaint. The assassin is not dismayed.

‘I think I’ll stay the night here,’ says Yuliaka, ‘and leave for the city in the morning.’

Belle looks over to her, ‘It would be safer to remain with us and come to our camp. You’re very welcome. There will be food. And we can continue to exchange information about other challenges.’

Yuliaka nods and holds her head still, as though thinking. ‘If it’s all right with you, bearing in mind you have stripped my friends of their coins and magic items, could you give me a lantern and some food? I’d rather stay here.’

‘Yes, that’s fine,’ Belle shrugs and leans over with her lantern. ‘It’s your decision. Most of our food is back at the camp though.’

‘You can have this apple,’ offers Aarax.

‘And these strips of spiced beef.’ Lisandra has her satchel open.

‘It’s not that you prefer a cave with a roof; you want to go back for a dragon’s tooth.’

For a moment there is a sharp focus in the eyes of Yuliaka and I realise that most of the time she is evasive, looking at the ground, not expressing any emotion. Now, however, she’s briefly annoyed and it’s like she has suddenly woken up. And then the focus is gone and Yuliaka subsides. ‘Naturally. Wouldn’t you do the same if you were in my place?’

If my friends (Belle too? I could not bear to imagine her dead) were slain, I would redouble my efforts to complete the quest, for their sakes.

‘I would too, so I wish good luck to you.’

‘Before you go in,’ says Lisandra, ‘you were going to tell us about getting a dragon tooth from Northway. And in return we will share our knowledge of Southway.’

Amenable to this and seemingly genuinely grateful for the food she is given, Yuliaka says, ‘You might regret that offer when you hear my answer. How to get the dragon’s tooth is common knowledge in Northway and you will easily learn what I can tell you. Are you sure you want to trade?’

Lisandra replies for us all, including Lady Horsta who has come back up the slope, looking annoyed. ‘I’m sure.’

With a nod, Yuliaka explains that her group went to Northway, where they found that every three months there is a gladiatorial combat in a huge, public arena. The last person standing on that day claims the dragon’s tooth. That Belle gives me a look of concern when she comprehends what this means makes my body glow. I’m not afraid. In fact, I relish the scenario. Let the crow from Crumblin show the crowd how guile can defeat the greatest brute-force warriors. Moreover, the next stage of our journey takes us to Sartas, home of the bird people, and after that, Cantreth, the grassy realm of fast horse-riders. Only after that trek will we come to Northway and then there will be a wait for the next contest. All that time will allow me to improve my fighting skills immensely.

I want you to appreciate me.

The voice in my thoughts is like of a character speaking to me from within a dream: it is that of an old man; southern accent; wealthy; arrogant. He is waiting for me to respond. I do not. I am striving to force even the smallest twitch of my right hand.

I’m a genius. The smartest being you’ve ever met. Wait until you hear.

Again a pause.

I don’t know if I’m the only spirit with the power of Possession, but none could possibly be as intelligent as me. What’s to stop me being immortal? The death of my host. So I don’t want to be outside, where predators are everywhere. No, I want to have a controlled environment. But if I’m inside, where is the food supply for my host? And where are the replacements for when the body fails for some reason? At least outside there’s no shortage of insects and worms even. Although I prefer to take over a bird if I must be outside, for the flight, obviously.

And then I heard about this maze that the dwarves had built and given over to a group of trolls, in return for them guarding the spawn point for one of the dragon’s teeth. Do you see it yet, my genius?

My body has stopped and now sits back to a wall and is in the process of fastening heavy, iron cuffs to my ankles. I am imprisoning myself! It occurs to me that I could easily remove myself from the chains with Blinkstep, but I don’t want to reveal that skill until I better understand the nature of this self-congratulating spirit.

A faint rectangle of grey shows me the way I have come, the way back to the corridor. A dozen bodies lie in this room, with dark, gleaming metal chains attached to them. One moves slightly and I hear a faint groan from her.

Trolls regenerate! He laughs. Endless food for my host. I hope you like the taste of raw troll. Hah, hah. Hah! They are very chewy. And even better, by locating my home here, I know there will always be new arrivals, like your party, to refresh my options. To save me from being bored. By the way, you are rather boring. You should reply to me. It’s only polite. And be warned if become bored of you, I will simply let your body die. I will possess one of your friends instead and this body can become food.

If I cannot escape by strength, then it shall have to be by guile.

That you are a genius is clearly a fact; if you are undead, perhaps you worship Lord Scrithax?

Scrithax? That old has-been? His laugh is full of scorn. I’ll be in the Twenty-Five Kingdoms a lot longer than a pathetic god whose mana has run out. I’ll be here to the end, for who can kill me? If any creature attacks my host and is likely to defeat it, why I simply Possess the stronger of them.

From the direction of the grey rectangle comes whispers. ‘Crow? Crow?’ And the light there brightens unsteadily.

My body is suddenly my own again. ‘Run! Escape if you can still flee! A spirit has possessed me!’

A confusion of voices and footsteps. Swaying lanterns creating alarming shadows that stretch and contract wildly.

‘Crow!’ Belle runs to me. ‘What is it? What has put you in chains? Where is it?’

‘A spirit that possesses us one by one; please Belle, just run.’

Lit by the arriving lanterns, I see that corpses are strewn on the floor of the room: champions whose armour and dress indicate a variety of classes. There is also a troll, prone, much mauled, as motionless as moss-covered rock, presumably slowly regenerating. And there is a living woman, pale and thin, robes covered in blood, sitting against the wall, bound by chains. Bewildered.

Everyone is shouting, looking around. Everyone but Lady Horsta who is calmly walking towards me. She kneels and reaches for the key that I had used to lock myself into the grasp of metal cuffs. Although bound, I’m able to grab the key and now a struggle begins.

‘What’s happening Crow?’ asks Belle.

Let go!

For a moment I am Possessed again and I yield the key.

Having taken the key, Lady Horsta walks to a corpse and kneels to unlock it. I understand. There are no more spare shackles and the spirit must reuse those currently occupied by the dead.

‘One by one, the spirit will possession of us gain, then force us to lock ourselves to a chain.’

‘Let’s try to stop her!’ shouts Belle. ‘Grab Lady Horsta.’

If the issue were not one of our capture and death, if I were to see this scene upon a stage, I would be laughing: Gerard suddenly leaving the struggle to run, hard, head-first into a wall and lie dazed; Lisandra grabbing Belle by the hair and toppling with her to the ground; Aarax running out of the room; Lady Horsta standing; Lady Horsta sitting and locking herself; Aarax running back in, turning around and running out once more. There is no sign of Amaris.

With grim inevitability, one after the other, my companions shackle themselves and it is particularly distressing to see the moment that Belle stiffens and brings herself into captivity. Despair, however, is not a feeling that I entertain for any length of time and it flees as I succeed in my Pick Lock attempt. No doubt the stolen, steel lockpicks that I keep in my breast pocket provided a bonus to the attempt. It had occurred to me that I should return these fine lockpicks to the assassin once he joined our party; now I was glad that I had kept them. Where was Amaris? Did he flee upon hearing my cry? Or has he a skill that avoids detection by the spirit?

‘Hey, you with the green robes. What’s going on here?’ Lisandra calls across to the frail-looking captive. But the prisoner just shakes her head even as Lisandra convulses and then punches herself several times in the mouth, until her lips are bleeding. We are not to talk to each other, it seems.

And so we sit in chains, inside a mountain. While the lanterns continue to emit their dull, yellow light we are able to look at each other and I smile encouragingly. After all, this spirit is arrogant, which is understandable with the power it has, yet vainglory is surely a weakness. The predator the crow truly fears is the one who has the measure of its own abilities. When I’m confident that no one but Belle is looking at me I even give her a cheeky wave from a shackle-free hand and after a moment where her face shows surprise, the gesture earns me a grin.

To destroy a spirit which intends to live for hundreds of years, passing from host to host, it seems I must catch it in a weak host and kill it so swiftly that it does not possess me or flee to another nearby creature. Ideally, I would stamp down on a beetle containing the monster and that would be that. But how to force it into a weak form?

Since the spirit is now present in very solid beings with many hit points I will have to strike the host with one vicious blow for a great deal of damage. My short sword is still at my side – the spirit being too complacent in its power to bother with it – and I immediately swap my afk levelling skill to Wield Shortsword. If the chance comes, I must not miss.

One by one, the lanterns flicker, fade to a blue flame, and expire. In total darkness, unable to see my companions, my confidence diminishes. What is the spirit doing? Presumably, it can only see with the eyes of its host. Yet it sensed my approach and attacked me some twenty metres from the emaciated woman who must have been its previous host. It would be foolish, therefore, for me to Blinkstep away and go into the interior of the complex in search of the dragon’s tooth.

Perhaps we can just wait for the next group of adventurers and then while the spirit is busy with them, I unlock my friends and we simply run away. Another large group of people would stretch the capacity of the spirit to control us all: like a street juggler who puts too many spinning plates on their stands, it could all come crashing down. If they could hear my thoughts, the corpses on the floor of the room would no doubt shake their heads. Waiting did not serve them well.

Where is the spirit? What is it doing now?

After about an hour in the dark, I discover the answer.

You have been targeted by a Possession attack.

You have been Possessed.

Possession. The affected creature’s body is taken over by the attacker. The attacker must relinquish its former body. The affected creature cannot regain control of its body until the attacker leaves it for that of another or is expelled.

Well now rogue, your turn to entertain me. Tell me all about your past. I’m particularly interested in theology and epistemology.

What is that word? It is one that I have never before heard.

The spirit laughs. Sooner or later, I shall Possess a being worthy of my intelligence. A dark elf scholar, perhaps. And then I shall contentedly explore the meaning of existence and in particular a question that concerns me greatly. Supposing that there is only one being in the universe, one god, and that we are all just fragments of that being, sparks that are flying from a mighty inferno. Then could I become that God? Could I discover a way to match my mind with The One?

You wish to be a god? Yet you seem rather feeble. I doubt you can Possess even a beetle.

The spirit laughs again. You’re not the first to goad me in the hope that in a suitably frail form, I come within striking distance of a heavy boot. In fact, your sorceress tried something similar only she talked of spiders. It’s rather pathetic really, but at least you are trying. Keep trying; it is mildly entertaining for me to see how many steps I am ahead of you.

What about the twenty-five gods, do you think you could Possess such a being? It would be a test of your power and a whole new way of seeing.

There is a pause before the spirit responds, its voice lively and eager. What a charming thought. You are less stupid than you appear. Congratulations. I might keep you alive until last. Possess a god. Well, why not? I could do it. Yes, I could. I could take my place at the table. Possess the god who is about to win. Rule the Twenty-Five Kingdoms for a thousand years. He is shouting now. A god. Of course. I should possess a god. I am immortal like them. I deserve it. But how would I meet a god? They never descend from their palace. How can I get up to the Moon? Could I Possess a dragon and fly there? But that would mean leaving this perfect setup that took me so long to obtain.

Interrupting the flow of his thoughts, I try to redirect the proud spirit. Gods do sometimes manifest on this land; Lord Scrithax himself was close at hand. He spoke to me and once again will do so; after I have completed the Epico Draco Missio.

Lord Scrithax? Least of gods. Still, what matter? In fact this might be best. Start with an easy one. Learn the system that way before taking over a proper god. Asa or Jehu. All right. It should not be too difficult to collect the dragon’s teeth … but wait. It is my host who obtains the dragon’s tooth. That means keeping you alive. Taking you out of here. Travelling in your form…

There is silence. Ominous silence.

I see what you are about, you foolish rogue. You still think you can outsmart me. Your story about Scrithax is a lie. You just want a chance to escape or kill me at the moment I Possess a weak guardian of a dragon tooth. Well, I don’t need you. I need a dragon. Despair, young rogue, for your trick has failed.

And he is gone. To mock another one of us presumably. I do not despair. It was not my goal to leave here while still under the control of this spirit. My suggestion about possessing a god was simply troublemaking and I find I am amused by how eagerly the spirit adopted the idea.

I can wait to learn more about our jailer and my waiting in the dark is made easier when my Wield Shortsword ticks up to 2. Yes, a trapped crow can wait in the half-light, observing and learning and preparing to take its opportunity. Such distress as lurks in my thoughts is not for me but for my companions. What will they be thinking? They will be like me, planning, scheming. Wondering how to move the spirit to a body that can be killed instantly. Lisandra, perhaps, can still cast spells, if the shackles on her wrists are not too tight. Her daily spells are usually Detect Magic, Sorcerer’s Defence, Flare, Blade Cloud and Shapechange – Humanoid. She will be alert to any opportunity to use Flare. Also, she can escape her bonds with a Shapechange to a small humanoid. There is a scroll she carries, Curseblade, which is powerful but not for this situation. We will need quick damage, not a slow but steady bleed effect. Gerard’s Siphon Life, similarly, is too slow.

What about my bracer of Raise Zombie? Now that is an intriguing possibility, assuming one of the corpses nearby is of someone who expired recently. Undead immunities include all forms of mind control. How will the spirit react if it finds a zombie it cannot possess is roaming the room? With fury no doubt. But would it kill any of us? Unlikely, because the fewer people left, the more limited its option to move via Possession and the zombie could – in theory, though of course I would not order it to do so – kill everyone until just I am left and the spirit is forced into me as the host. Then by killing me, it would also destroy the spirit in the same instant. A rather extreme solution that I would never implement but the possibility of which might cause the spirit to flee … to go find a dragon perhaps. That would be a better scenario than the current one; we could track whoever it chose for its host and help them when the spirit swaps to someone or some monster it thinks stronger.

If I discover no better option, I will try to bring one of the corpses to its feet as a zombie. For now, though, I wait. I listen. I hope the spirit will Possess me again so that I can speak further with it and discover more about its nature.

And then I see the spirit’s method of feeding us, which both disgusts me and causes my body to feel alive and ready to move. Opportunity is a fleeting muse and I must grasp her skirts as she hurries past.

Stirring from the stone floor with the slow, echoing groans of a cave monster, a troll crawls towards Gerard. Mighty though the troll is, it cannot have too many hit points; its limbs are broken; even its neck is broken. Only the eyes show true, flashing like sparks of flint. The wounded troll slumps beside our Shadow Knight, who stiffens and then leans over in a rattle of chains and chews at the upper arm of the huge beast.

‘Ewww,’ says Belle, unpunished.

‘Yum. Me next please,’ I laugh.

You have been targeted by a Possession attack.

You have been Possessed.

Possession. The affected creature’s body is taken over by the attacker. The attacker must relinquish its former body. The affected creature cannot regain control of its body until the attacker leaves it for that of another or is expelled.

Silence!

How hard the wall and how soft my head as I violently bang the two together. For several seconds after the spirit has gone, I am bewildered. Who? Who the crow? Me, I’m me. And I’ve achieved my purpose. My friends will be ready.

I’m impatient now, while Lady Horsta takes her turn in biting into the living troll and tearing flesh from its wounds. At last the monster starts crawling in a pitiful and broken manner towards me. This is the chance and it might be our only chance. Yet I do not think of the consequences of failure. I do not think at all. Best only calculate distances.

Nearer, nearer. While the troll is defintely within sword range but before might cease to move and the spirit seek my mind, I trigger Doppelganger.

My twin stabs at the troll and the genius that is the spirit makes a fatal blunder. The troll turns to its assailant and I can almost taste its frustration as the spirit tries to Possess the simulacrum. The spirit must feel like a faller, grasping at the edge of a cliff, the turf tearing away in its hands. On my feet faster than a cat spying a fleeing mouse, I lunge with the advantage of flanking, a semi-prone opponent, and the element of surprise. My damage multiplier is 4 and my strike is true. My blade sinks deep through the heart of the spirit’s host. Dead as a boulder is the mighty troll, felled by the sharp beak of a crow.

Y..

Only the very edge of a touch from the spirit reaches me before it is whisked away like a fiery ember into the sky. Farewell, I bid it, farewell. No deity status for you.

A moment later a Flare rushes towards me and shrivels the skin of the troll, blue flames flickering for several seconds after the dazzling bolt of orange has dissipated. Good, the troll will not regenerate itself back to life now, with the risk that somehow the spirit is able clinging on until then.

‘Is it gone?’ asks Lisandra.

‘Everyone please speak your name, that way we know all our bodies and minds are regained.’

‘Aarax.’

‘Lisandra.’

‘Belle.’ Sweet Belle.

‘Constance.’ This from the body of Lady Horsta, and just as I dread that the spirit somehow avoided my lethal strike, she adds, ‘by which I mean, Lady Constance Horsta.’

‘Scrithax’s beard, you rattled me there!’ exclaims Gerard, then he too hurriedly reassures us. ‘Gerard here, once coachman, now shadow knight.’

‘Crow, you know.’

And then, almost a whisper. ‘Yuliaka. You don’t know me so I could be the spirit, lying, but I assure I am not.’

I walk over to the woman who had been the host to the spirit from before we arrived and I look into a face that has suffered a great deal and I believe her.

The spirit is destroyed. We are all free. No cage can hold this crow.

To find out more about the dragon’s tooth challenge of Grimlar is a trivial matter, for the town is full of conversations about how impossible it has become for anyone to obtain a tooth since the trolls who guard the treasure have mysteriously disappeared, to be replaced by something terribly evil and almost certainly undead. The dwarves are cheerful about this development, for their champions had long ago entered the mountain of Glitterpeak, fought the trolls, and gained their reward. If those caves had since become haunted and a deadly trap for adventurers, this was no fault of their god Dverg. Dverg had followed the rules of the game of the Twenty-Five kingdoms and the evil that was destroying adventurers in the dark of the mountain was not of his doing.

Of course, we have to brave the challenge, whatever form it takes and although anxiety is the predominant emotion in our discussions of the situation, those of us from Nekis comfort ourselves with the hope that our knowledge of the undead will serve us well in this situation. If it is a powerful undead being who now resides in the caves – a lich? A vampire? – they might even be worshipers of Scrithax, lord of the undead, and be willing to allow us a tooth.

We therefore set out as visitors interested in climbing the lower stages of the mountain, with a guide, two thick-haired ponies, and a new jacket for each of us: jackets made of sheepskin, that pack our arms and torsos in wool. The restriction this brings to my being able to swing my arms is more than compensated for by the warmth that surrounds me.

While walking a dirt path through stone, shale and the occasional hardy gorse bush, Amaris comes alongside.

‘You’re a mystery Crow. Care to explain it. Did you take a dip in bard? Are you a bard, not a rogue?’

My abilities are not a subject I want to talk about with anyone, so although I meet his questioning eyes, I say nothing.

‘Only a bard can play music like you do. And most of them not half as well. Yet if you are a bard, why do you not use your music to cast magic? And if you are a rogue with a dip in bard and necromancer, then how did someone so young get so many levels to waste in this fashion? My Appraise Foe skill indicates you are only Level One or Two. Threat level trivial.

‘Too much about you is hidden Crow. I don’t like that and, frankly, I don’t like you. You have them all fooled with your impudence and rhymes. You’re faking that too, right?’

‘Crow once had a sheepskin coat; the fleece was rather grey. And everywhere that Crow did walk, Amaris would say: I hate you Crow, I hate your style; I hate your rhymes, I hate your smile. Crow once had a sheepskin coat; the fleece no longer white. And Crow knew when the quest was done, there would be a fight.’

‘Sod you Crow.’ And the assassin stops walking, allowing us all to progress past him until he is at the back of our line.

Perhaps I should not have answered back so brazenly. It was my nature though, to laugh whenever someone tried to intimidate me. Quite probably, Amaris would attempt to kill me as a rival, whether he liked me (did he like anyone?) or not, once our alliance had achieved all it could. By then, however, the gap between us in level (he was Level Six, to my Level Three) would matter less if I had maxed out my fighting skills.

So well travelled is the path we walk upon that there is a wooden bothy for our first night’s sleep and for the second a collection of tents, fireplaces and stacks of wood under oilskin, which has kept them dry despite the snow and rain. As we arrive, the camp seems to be underwater in a vast lake of shadow created by the mountain being between us and the setting sun.

That night, as we eat a stew I have cooked, Lisandra asks the guide, a young, female dwarf, about the dragon tooth.

‘That’s what all these tents are, see. They don’t come back, do they?’

‘Did you ever go up to the cave?’

‘Twice.’ Each of her fingers has a symbol tattooed between hand and first knuckle and I study them as she scratches her neck. ‘Left the adventurers at the cave entrance. Waited two nights as agreed. Came back to Kadunskil and never seen them again.’

‘What do you think happened to those who went in the cave?’

The guide shrugs and there is no trace of pity on her face. Whether those she guided lived or died did not seem to be a concern of hers.

‘Would you take us to the dragon tooth cave?’

‘If you like. But I’m not staying there if you go inside. And I’ll only wait at this camp for one more night after.’

‘Agreed.’

That night I share a tent with Belle. One side of me is warm and happy, the other, however, is cold; my dreams are constantly interrupted by one of us turning about to bring their frozen side to press against the heat beneath the middle of the blanket.

Morning, and a level up in Find Traps bringing the skill to 4. My current goal is to get the skill to 10, not only for the benefits this brings when I search for danger, but also because then I will activate Trapsense, a passive and constant alertness towards the presence of traps. Cautious is the crow. The world is full of predators.

A long, hard march over shale and rock made slippery by patches of ice, our strong breaths steaming the whole morning, brings us to a triangular cave entrance. Poor Lisandra is utterly spent and lies flat on her back while Gerard lights a fire. There is a ring of stones on the ground with black interior and charred wood where our predecessors had made a fireplace. As the others unload the mules, I stand over our sorceress and offer my hand.

‘Best not lie on ground so chill; it will enter your body and make you ill.’

‘You’re right Crow,’ Lisandra puts her large hand in mine and allows me to haul her into a sitting position. ‘That’s exactly what my mother would have said. Only without the rhyme and with a fair chance of a curse or even a slap.’

After giving her hand a squeeze, I walk to stand in the entrance to the cave, so that the roof is nearly above my head. This opening seems entirely natural, a slash in the mountain where one massive block of stone leans against another, leaving a dark line between them. The cave is not wide, perhaps five metres, but it is tall, more than ten metres. Beyond an area of grey, stone-covered floor, the interior soon becomes dark.

There’s something wrong here. Look carefully, Crow. Look at the ground, the walls, the roof. Look over your shoulder. Look at our guide watching you. At last, I have it. There are no birds near us nor have there been, or the traces of their droppings would be evident. Elsewhere on the mountain, there are lines of green where nesting birds have fertilised the otherwise barren stone-strewn ground.

No birds, nor bats. Natural as this cave seems, it is shunned by Nature.

Our guide is watching me with a detached scrutiny that makes me think I am a fool. She does not think I will leave the cave once I have gone into the darkness. But go there I will. There is another dragon’s tooth in here and I must have it.

Armour on. Lanterns lit. We all gather at the opening into the mountain.

‘You’re adventurers. You’re going in.’ Our guide does not sound surprised. ‘Well, I’m leaving then. Do you want me to take the mules? It wouldn’t be fair to them to leave them here.’

‘Yes, take them back to the camp,’ says Lady Horsta.

While at exactly the same time Amaris says, ‘whoever heard of fairness for a mule? They stay.’

I look over to Lisandra and she gestures as though to wave the mules away. ‘Take them.’

Amaris replaces his default scowl with a deeper one.

Impassive as ever, our guide gathers the leads of the two mules and without wishing us well, begins her journey back down the slopes of the mountain.

After some preparation – lanterns lit; buckles tightened; weapons drawn – we enter the cave, Crow first. Ten to twenty metres ahead of Lady Horsta suits me best. Too far and the light from the lanterns fails to reach me and I cannot see at all, too near and the light along with the noise penalises my Stealth. Patience is my coat-of-arms if not quite my middle and last names. I check for danger: listening for monsters (2); spotting that which is hidden (7); and searching for traps (4) and only when satisfied I am not leading my companions into an ambush do I drop back and beckon them another twenty metres deeper into the mountain.

It is slow, this method. But I am well aware that people just as cautious and as powerful as our group would have travelled this dark tunnel, never to return. For each new cycle of checking, I remind myself of this and imagine a hidden enemy lurks nearby. Two hours pass in this fashion before I have something to report: the natural cave comes to an end in a very well-crafted stone corridor, whose dimensions are surprisingly large considering it was made by dwarves. The roof is almost double my height.

To our left, the corridor extends about twenty metres then turns a corner; the same to our right, only there is an additional tunnel branching off about halfway along. Once we are all in this dwarf-made corridor we rest and Lisandra shares out strips of jerky, whose salty taste I wash away with plenty of water.

Rested, my scouting duty resumes and it does not take me long to realise that we are in a classic maze, with very many corridors that are dead ends and the occasional small chamber. There is also obvious evidence for the path taken by those who used this underground construction as their home: the most well-travelled corridors have walls with scratches and floors which are scuffed, sometimes almost to a reflective sheen. Disappointment makes me laugh at myself. Really, I should be glad the path through the maze is easy to discover. Yet I wanted to rise to the challenge with my own wits. Finding my way through the complex alleys of Crumblin was never a challenge to me and I would often loose a chase by taking several abrupt turns, without ever losing my sense of direction. I would have liked to have solved the maze without such obvious clues.

Deeper we go into this maze and while I am not afraid to be out on my own, I do enjoy those moments when I rejoin my companions and relax in their company, as we take a break. The talk is mostly speculation as to what happened to the trolls and to the other champions searching for the dragon tooth. Why did they not come back out?

‘Some monster with fire was here,’ offers Aramis, ‘like a red dragon only much smaller.’

Belle lifts her head, dark hair swaying aside from her oh-so-lovely face. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Trolls regenerate unless burned.’

Not long after we resume, my imagination recreates a battle as I notice deep marks in the stone and a different colouration to the floor of the corridor we are travelling down. This is a sword or axe cut? And it is surely the iron in blood that has subtly stained the corridor floor.

Soon after passing the place where a fight occurred, the air in the dark corridor turns fetid: the smell is not terribly unpleasant, no more than Master Cathaldus’s room in the morning before I move the drapes and let some fresh air in. More cautious than ever, I reach a crossroads that also has witnessed a major battle, with Fireball or similar spells used, because large swathes of stone have been scorched and when I run my finger along the wall the tip becomes covered in soot.

In hell there are places like this. Underground mazes. Walls that have echoed the sounds of explosions and screams, of metal clashing on metal. If we turn around now, could we leave? I am not afraid, only curious. Have we already crossed the boundary that had trapped every group of champions to have come here? Although everyone gathers and speaks in whispers, no one wants to take out refreshments and take a long break. Not here. Instead, they grip their weapons firmly and look around with lanterns raised.

I continue deeper into the mountain and the smell of the place is distinctly more unpleasant, an odour of decay emanating from the blackness ahead. The corridor ends with an opening into a large chamber. Having gone back to alert the others and have them come close enough that their lanterns shine some light into the room, I walk with Stealth to the end of the corridor and step inside the chamber, moving to my right and positioning myself with my back the wall, waiting for my low-light vision to adjust.

You are interesting, says a voice in my mind. It is a cold and terrible voice and every word it utters is accompanied by feeling of dread. Flowing around the syllables are half-caught nightmares of blood and death. You taste of something other than a human… what is it? I know it… though I have not possessed it for hundreds of years now. A bird. Yes. You are crow-flavoured. How interesting. Can you explain that?

Pleased to meet you; hello. Perhaps because my name is Crow?

Should I run? I should run. As soon as I move, though, I am brought to a standstill as my own body betrays me.

You have been targeted by a Possession attack.

You have been Possessed.

Possession. The affected creature’s body is taken over by the attacker. The attacker must relinquish its former body. The affected creature cannot regain control of its body until the attacker leaves it for that of another or is expelled.

Our progress to the capital from the port had been mostly uphill and slow but I didn’t mind that, since the four days of travel allowed me to reach 5 in Play Musical Instrument (Barbat). Every night I would practice and I discovered a joy in sound that I had not previously appreciated. The beautiful – and from Lady Horsta’s perspective – far too expensive musical instrument I had acquired in Hammerfist was like a lute, in that it had six strings and a round sound box. The head was strange though, being bent back further than the angle a hand could achieve when pulled back at the wrist. Not only had I worked up my skill in producing music from this instrument, I felt that my entire way of being in the world had subtly changed. I was surrounded by music.

The rhythm of a nearby cart, for example, contained creaks, the jingle of harness clasps, the laborious footfalls of the mule, its steady exhalations. Nearby a magpie sounded the alarm to its companions with a staccato trill. A rope on a flagpole clacked to an unsettled beat. This heightened appreciation of the music in the world had no practical benefit: I was not a better rogue for it. Nevertheless, to have opened my ears to music in this way was a pleasure and certainly a very welcome distraction from the ache in my legs.

Our new abode was The Gnarly Beech, apparently the best venue in the city for travelling entertainers like us. It’s owner, a black-bearded dwarf called Eccel Bloodstone, had offered us board and tips in return for six performances, which I considered a good agreement though Belle thought otherwise, wanting us to be paid too. She was right. For the morning after our shaking hands on the deal, Eccel had come over to our table with a roll of posters and a list of establishments and told us to go around town making sure they were properly displayed. This was unexpected work. I have several of these posters in my hand and am feeling very tired from the strain on my thighs of walking these hills.

The poster has the outline of an unrecognisably voluptuous female, one who is probably more elf than human. Famed Belle of Nekis, it proclaims, Dances Every Night at The Gnarly Beech. What would they make of the real Belle? We had told Eccel that I am a well-known barbat player, but whether it was the lack of conviction in my companions as they said this, or, more likely, that Eccel knows perfectly well how to attract his customers, I do not feature on the poster.

Aarax is with me and after we have tacked up the last poster (on the wall of a butcher’s shop), he suggests we reward ourselves with a drink. A very welcome suggestion as far as my thighs are concerned. An inn terrace gives us a view across the city past its walls to an area of cloud far to the east that is, in fact, mist formed where the River Blackwater pours over a lip of rock to drop over a hundred metres as a massive waterfall.

Warm spiced wine is steaming on the table and our exhalations too form a faint mist.

Yawning, Aarax stretches out. ‘I’m tired. I thought the life of an adventurer would be easier than that of an apprentice coachman, but we are always travelling.’

‘Yet you sleep very well, they must hear your snores from the depths of hell.’

He laughs then looks rueful. ‘You know it’s only two weeks until the Day of the Dead?’

‘I nod.’

‘This is the first time I’ll miss the carnival.’

‘As will I; without me Mistress Withen will find it hard to get by. Our temple is busy all day, as people call in to pray.’

‘We have two zombies in the family. My dad’s grandparents. They were soldiers you see.’ Aarax looks over at me, then back to the view of the mountains. ‘After the service, we usually go out to fields and find them to pay honour to them.’

Such melancholy I have not heard in my young friend’s voice before and I say, ‘We should have our own ceremony here, and think of our friends and our home city with good cheer.’

‘That’s a great idea Crow. We can make masks and everything.’ Our druid springs up as if ready to prepare for the festival right away. Well, why not? I finish my spiced wine and feeling the pleasant effect of it am ready for the steep streets again.

I come down early for our first performance. We have a small stage, well lit by large-wicked lanterns, some of which have slots for coloured glass. This is where the Crow will play, puffed up and preening as though making a display for a mate, which is indeed part of my intention, to impress Belle with my unexpected musical skill.

A young dwarf is covering the floor with something yellow that he throws from a bucket like chaff. It is sawdust.

‘Excuse me,’ I ask, ‘but what is that for? Why do you put sawdust on the floor?’

‘For the blood, isn’t it? What will stain the wood otherwise.’

My lack of comprehension must show, for he gives me a look out of patient brown eyes and says. ‘There be a lot of fighting; miners versus agrics usually.’

The excitement that had been circulating through me and filling my limbs with energy sinks through my boots and leaks away into this now-yellow floor. Fighting? In my hands is a complex stringed instrument, with a beautiful lacquer finish. It cost us a gold and five silver from our party funds. How will it fare if a roomful of drunken dwarves are fighting? How will anyone even hear my playing? The preening bird ceases its cocksure walk, feathers settling back down. I find a dark corner and tune the barbat, plucking a few melancholy notes from it. Have I wasted valuable skill points in my vanity?

As the inn fills with dwarves, my friends join me, all but Belle.

‘Shouldn’t you bandage a hand or arm?’ asks Lisanda, I shake my head.

Already it is getting hard to hear her and the place is only half full. There are both male and female dwarves, dressed in woollen clothes mostly, though some have leather wrist and shin protection. The men all have beards. Other than very small knives, more useful for cutting than fighting, I am relieved that no one seems to be carrying weapons. The fashion here is for tattoos and all of the dwarves have them. Since they are mostly covered up, I can only guess from the dense black ink on hands and necks that these tattoos extend across their bodies.

Livelier now, the inn fills up until there are no more seats and still dwarves are arriving, a chill but refreshing flow of air announcing each new entrance. That many curious looks are evident whenever someone looks over at our table can only be expected. A young dwarf, the one that was distributing sawdust, comes over and shouts.

‘Ecces says it’s time for your act and don’t play any elf music or he can’t guarantee your safety.’

‘I’ll get Belle,’ Lisandra heaves herself up, both hands on the rough wooden table. ‘Lady Horsta, Gerard, Amaris, please clear the stage and guard her when she dances.’

There are dwarves seated all along the wooden edge of the stage and they do not look pleased to be moved to their feet. When I leave our table, carrying the barbat in my right hand, Aarax looks surprised by says nothing. I stand on the stage and the noise around me diminishes a little.

From the stairs to my left, first Lisandra descends, then breathtaking Belle. Belle has acquired a new dress and the poster we have been putting up around the city is not so far from the truth. In teal and light green, with silver fastenings, she is a whirl of delicate and floating silk. I have not seen her this way before, womanly, gorgeous, desirable.

Is this strange woman also attractive in the eyes of a dwarvish audience? Those close enough to see Belle are certainly astonished, many a mouth is open.

With a wave of her arms and an inaudible chant, Lisandra shimmers and reforms as a stocky red-haired dwarf. Her Shapechange, presumably.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen!’ dwarf Lisandra steps onto the lit stage and calls out from the front of it, to some effect as measured by the fact that four or five of rows of those nearest to us pay her attention. Further back, though, in the dark and smoke-filled recesses of the inn, the noise does not abate. ‘Having thrilled the Arkine Emperor himself; having danced for the Duke of Dunshandan, and now having arrived at the finest city in all the world, it is with even more pride that Belle of Nekis will dance for the miners and farmers without whom we would have nothing!’

Approval all around greets this sentiment and was that even a smile? No, just a twitching mouth. Still, as Belle steps onto the stage, lightly, with a hint of a leap in each motion, I can tell that the dwarves around us are interested and willing to give us a chance.

A pause. Belle looks to me, a question in her expression. How wrong of me to tease her in this moment; to tease Lisandra, who is miming a broken wrist; to tease Aarax at his table, who looks at me concerned; to tease Lady Horsta, Amaris and Gerard, standing just off the stage, bodies facing the audience but heads turned towards me; to tease the expectant audience. But having raised the barbat and my hand to strum at the strings, the rascal in me cannot but delight in how everyone is suffering on my behalf.

A long pause.

And then I play.

I open with an irresistible polka, easy for Belle, she will have danced to this form a thousand times. Light and simple as the music is, it is appealing all the same, speaking of good friends and cheerful nights. Easy to grasp. Many a head is moving from side to side in time with my chords. With grateful eyes, Belle moves across the stage as much as its small length allows, turning with a swirl at the end of each of my statements and offering a lovely smile for the audience.

Giving the audience little time to hoot and stamp – their mode of approval I discover – I start into a more sophisticated waltz. Again, this is well-rehearsed music for Belle but there’s more subtlety now in how I’m playing for her to sway her arms and fingers to the melody while her whole body rises and falls to the strumming of the chords. My barbat is bravely meeting the challenge of overcoming the background sounds of talk, laughter, motion. Under a low roof, the mellow tones of the deep notes fill my ears, the sweet, plucked notes from higher up the neck sing out loudly.

Another waltz, this time filled with romance, and, appreciating this, Belle is flirting with the audience, giving each one of them a personal smile and a glimpse of pale thigh or chest. Amused by the open-eyed, guilty expressions of the dwarves in the front rows, I give Belle a foxtrot so that she can strut, like my heart is strutting, and reinforce her command over them. Dance after dance, we keep the dwarves more than entertained; they have been won over and their hoots in the short interval between the tunes make Belle happy, a happiness she shares with me: when her brown eyes turn to mine they are filled with affection.

I have been playing long enough – and Belle must be tired enough – that I consider ending the performance with one last dance. Instead, though, my fingers are working on a song that had come to me while I learned the instrument. Crow’s Song. A song of loss, for where is the flock? You are not me. You are someone who once had a huge, cawing family. And the family comes together to feed, some taking turns guarding the sky while the others find insects. Proud young Crow. Clever Crow, warning of the dark human, almost invisible beside a tree. You’ll do, he says, come with me and be my eyes. And my family say, go, it is a god. And you serve the god until your eyes start to fade and you return to the roost where your siblings all have children of their own. And they honour you. As does the god, arriving and picking you up from your nest when you can no longer fly. Best of crows, he said, do not be afraid of death, you will fly again.

Somehow Belle understands the music: she has been a bird in flight, a god-chosen bird, cunning and alert. And she has been a lonely bird. And she has been a dying bird, surrounded by the audience who are the flock to which she has returned after serving the dark god. And she is not afraid of death.

When the last note ends, the entire inn is still. Nearby, the eyes of the tattooed dwarves are full of tears.

Then the hooting and stamping begins, loud and fervent. They do not cease even after Belle has bowed a dozen times. At last she takes my hand and we run up the stairs to where Lisandra is standing, her original form resumed.

‘Lord Scrithax save us, Crow, I’ve never heard music such as that.’ She wipes away a tear and then clasps me tight to her, big arms wrapped around me. ‘Crow, you have a family now, you know that.’

Gesturing to Lady Horsta to wait, I adjust my clothes and saunter through the door.

‘Greetings from Madame Rabonne to you, she has sent me to deliver some stew?’

‘Fool. What are you doing here?’ The older soldier immediately sits up, giving me a terrible scowl that I meet with a grin of oafish incomprehension. ‘You are not allowed down here. Whoever ordered that stew, it wasn’t us.’

Still with his hands on his carving, the younger soldier looks at me, puzzled.

Instead of my apologising and retreating as they expect, I take two quick steps and far too late they get to their feet. Right hand to the hilt of the sword I trigger Doppelganger and order my twin to attack the older soldier. And although the guard manages to get his hand onto the scabbard, which prevents me from raising the blade, a Blink brings me away with the sword in my hand.

Urging my doppelganger to flank him I concentrate on the older soldier as representing the most danger. Rogues are most effective when they encounter a flat-footed opponent, such as when we launch an unexpected backstab. Then we get a multiplier of up to four times our usual damage. In this situation, I’m scoring double damage with each successful thrust or slash thanks to my own magical twin providing me with flanking and a partial flat-footed effect.

In just five quick hits, the man falls and I turn, just in time to see Lady Horst crash into the other guard, knocking him to the ground. Dispelling my doppelganger – to save mana – I hurry over and stab the soldier until I get a successful combat message (along with a modest but welcome 240 EXP).

‘Now what?’ Lady Horsta is flushed and looking at every door in succession with wild eyes, as though a dozen more soldiers were about to come charging through.

‘Quick, we must don their chain mail, then try to bluff our way out of this jail.’

‘Good idea.’

With yet another effort to control my breathing and putting aside frightful thoughts of being trapped here, I undo clasps and pull a chainmail hauberk over the younger soldier’s head. Their helmets are on a shelf and once my straps are tight, I take both, handing the larger to Lady Horsta when she is ready.

‘I know you find it hard to speak, Crow, but you do their accents so well. Mine will give us away.’

‘Let’s hope to say nothing at all, and just walk, military fashion, from the hall.’

To help Lady Horsta get in character, I go first and march with the exact tread of the well-drilled Arkine soldiers I have seen on campaign. Listening, I can hear that she has caught the tempo and together we go left, right; left, right; left, right. Up the stairs, still in step. Along the short corridor, turning left into the main corridor with the pale rectangle of freedom close ahead.

Left, right. Left, right. Straight out and on past the four guards without a word in response to a question, ‘What’s up lads?’

‘Captain watching?’ Another voice from behind us. ‘I thought he was too hungover to get up today.’

‘I reckon they’ve just realised they are late for palace duty.’

Heads down, left, right, left, right.

Out of sight of the tower, we nevertheless continue as marching soldiers through several busy streets until I opt to enter an inn serving lunch to a noisy throng of green supporters.

‘Wait at this table, I’ll return as soon as I’m able.’

I run all the way to the Golden Dragon and bang on the doors of the bedrooms of my friends. Explaining that we must go to the ship right away, I dress in my leather armour, pack, and run back to Lady Horsta. Reassuring her and buying food and drink to place on her table, I then leave her again in order to purchase a collar with chain and the garments of a household slave.

Soon, I am returned and I ask Lady Horsta to follow me through to a quiet alley at the back of the inn. There, she looks at the costume I have brought her with disgust. ‘Must I?’

‘What needs require, often goes against our desire.’

I am pleased with the disguise. It uses Lady Horsta’s bruising and ruined hair to good effect and it is as a slave owner that I lead the way to the docks, tugging on the chain from time to time.

A sudden increase in the presence of soldiers on the streets, with several groups of six running along the quays looking into shops and under stalls, tells me that our escape has been discovered. Our escape? Not mine. I am an Underworld slaver, seeking the best price I can for this female human. She’ll scrub up nicely, I’m sure. Once settled. Of course, I’ve had to be a bit rough with her, but no permanent harm has been done. In this mode I regard passing soldiers with nothing but curiosity and even as potential buyers. The disguise holds and when I arrive at our boat, even Captain Adelaide will have nothing to do with me, urging me to go away as she stows bags of salt, preparing to depart.

When it is safe to do so unobserved we cross to the deck, where Lady Horsta leans over the open trapdoor to the hold.

‘It’s me! I’m Lady Horsta; let me below.’

‘Knock me over with an ostrich feather! So it is. I never would have recognised you though.’

‘We’re in a rush, guards are looking for me.’

‘Right so. Get yourself into the galley. Crow, lend a hand with those sacks. We’ll be in the road as soon as they are stowed. The tide is with us for the next hour. Are the others coming?’

‘If they get here in time,’ answers Lady Horsta, ‘otherwise, they can mind themselves. They aren’t under suspicion.’

It’s hard work, hurrying with sacks of salt that want only to slide down one side of your shoulder or the other. But I’ve carried heavier loads. And before I’ve finished moving the bags from the quayside to the boat, my friends arrive and lend a hand.

‘Did you free Lady Horsta?’ whispers Belle to me.

I nod and Amaris, spotting this, looks surprised.

Taking up our usual stations, we haul the mainsail up and cast off, Captain Adelaide guiding the boat into the marked section of the estuary and slowly bringing her out between the two arms of the quays and into a choppy sea. Gradually, gradually, Cassikos recedes and our world becomes filled with sea and sky.

We’ve succeeded! Lord Scrithax take heart and hope, your fine fellow has come away with the tooth of the Arkine Empire.

My enjoyment of the feeling of achievement is interrupted as the sail swings about and we turn towards a declining sun. That is wrong. I go to the stern, where our captain rests an arm on the rudder.

‘It is Grimlar next, for the furtherance of our quest.’

‘Grimlar?’ says Captain Adelaide.

‘Bloodyminded dwarves,’ mutters Amaris.

‘Lady Horsta,’ our captain leans into the gangway. ‘You can come on deck now. They are saying we have to sail for Grimlar, is that right?’

‘That’s right.’

The appearance of Lady Horsta results in cries of delight from my friends. They hurry over to pat her as if making sure she is really present. It amuses me that this woman who we once hated is now being treated as a friend. All listen eagerly as she describes our fight with the guards and our escape from the tower as soldiers of the emperor.

Captain Adelaide, however, does not seem impressed and as soon as the tale is told, says, ‘If we are going east and out of my usual waters, you need to fill the hold with fish again. You can start by getting the nets on deck and mending any breaks you find.’

I don’t mind the work, especially as it gives us the chance to learn from Amaris, who is obviously familiar with the dwarven kingdom. Their king is Rainulf Grimtooth and he lives in a mountain palace, in the city of Kadunskil. It’s in the caves of Glitterpeak – a mountain sacred to their god Dverg - that the challenge for a dragon tooth is located.

That night I dream of a tunnel whose walls are studded with sparkling blue and green gems. But they are impossible to remove and no one I ask has a pickaxe or even a dagger.

By the time we arrive at the port of Hammerfist six days have passed and I have gained another seven points in my skills. I have raised Spot Hidden to a magnificent 7 and improved most of my other class skills by one. The only non-class skill I thought a priority was Two-Weapon Fighting which was now at 2. Using Doppelganger to get flanking on opponents meant I was a more useful fighter than I had anticipated.

Examining my skills on my character sheet was always a source of satisfaction these days:

Name: Crow

Class: Rogue

Level: 3 (Silkfinger)

Exp: 3,246/5,000

Class Skills

Disguise 10

Find Traps 2

Listen 2

Climb 1

Pick Lock 4

Set Traps 1

Stealth 15

Spot Hidden 7

Swim 1

Trapsense 2

Magic Class Skills

Meditation 6

Blinkstep 1

Doppelganger 1

Read Magic Runes 1

Use Magic Device 1

Combat Skills

Two-Weapon Fighting 2

Wield Dagger 1

Wield Shortsword 1

Other Skills

Animal Friend 1

Cooking 1

Knowledge (Religion) 1

Knowledge (Streets) 1

Before my boon I had been a confident crow of the streets. How much more confident could I be now, with all these skills? Their total must surely be greater than any other person alive?

Though small, Hammerfist is an impressive town, as all their houses are two stories, with sharp-angled roofs, lead-covered glass windows, and a vivid, black-and-white appearance: black on the timbers, white on the plastered walls.

As we sail our way towards a short quayside which has little protection from the open sea other than being in the lee of a natural hook, Amaris comes to me.

‘Crow, can you disguise me? dwarves hate everyone, but they really can’t stand inferni.

I studied the assassin carefully. ‘Your teeth and your eyes are a penalty to disguise. With a veil and a cloak made from your bunk, you could pose as a monk.’

‘A monk of Nekis? Yes, I suppose so.’

I hurry below and do my best to create a reasonable likeness to the hat with veil and dark cloak that is worn by the warrior monks of my city. By the time we are tied up against the quay, I feel it is passable and as he covers up his tell-tale face, Amaris gives a grunt that is almost approving.

While Captain Adelaide leaves to discover what, if any, kind of license is needed to sell our fish, the rest of us meet below decks.

‘I still think the truth might serve us best,’ says Lady Horsta. ‘King Rainulf Grimtooth must surely be concerned about the growth in power of the Arkine Empire?’

‘Let’s not begin a long discussion again,’ replies Gerard. ‘We’re here as the servants of the famous dancer, Belle of Nekis.’

Lady Horsta shakes her head. ‘It’s not very convincing though, is it? So many servants for one performer.’

‘Buy me an instrument for me to play; I will learn it within a day.’

My statement surprises everyone and I am greeted with expressions that range from outright disbelief through scorn to hope, and of course it is Belle’s eyes that are hopeful.

‘Really, Crow?’

‘If we have two performers then five servants rings true; I agree with Lady Horsta that it does not look well, all of us just for you.’

‘Yes, I can see that. But what if you are expected to play?’

‘I suppose he can feign an injury that prevents him,’ suggests Aarax.

‘Good idea,’ says Lisandra, and she opens her satchel. ‘Here, Crow, go see what instrument you can buy. And Belle, you better go with him, to get some suitable clothing.’

A clink of coin.

‘All right,’ says Lady Horsta, as if we had not already decided our plan during the journey, overruling her, ‘that makes a lot more sense. But don’t waste money on an expensive instrument that will never get played.’

To try and explain would bring me dangerously close to breaking my promise to Lord Scrithax, so I say nothing and leave everyone – even Belle – with the idea that for our journey to Glitterpeak I will pose as her accompanist but will be injured and unable to play. I am now looking forward with some amusement to surprising them with my performance. Because in my list of daily life skills are several that are unlocked, albeit that they are at 0. Skills like Tailor; Cobbler; Tanner; Butcher; Baker; and so forth. Skills for the unadventerous. And among these is one in which I had previously no intention of investing precious skill-ups: Play Musical Instrument (NAME).

When I wake up, I find that Meditation has levelled up again, to 6. This time, I gain 7 more mana points, bringing my pool (which has replenished) to 20. Twenty mana! Has any rogue ever had so much mana? That’s four Blinksteps, or ten minutes of Doppelganger. Were I back in Crumblin I would be King Crow, ruler of the streets and alleys, often followed by gangs of fellow urchins in the hope they would see the famous doppelganger or the astonishing flitting from place to place that I am known for.

Although I will always wish to have more mana, there are now other priorities for my afk levelling skill. Taking my time – what else could I be doing, when confined to a dark space little bigger than my body? – I consider each skill in turn and even examine the Daily Life list that I have previously only glanced at. Skills like Fine Dining and Embroidery have little interest to me. There is one, however, that I now wish to obtain the next time I gain a level in rogue: Dancing. My crowdreams are of Belle and I, in fine clothes, in a large ballroom, spinning and laughing and twirling and throwing and catching and smiling and whirling and gliding and … kissing.

Delightful as the fantasy is, Dancing is greyed out to me until I select it as a new skill. And of course I have so many more practical skills to level up. Were I making a priority of being able to battle my way out of trouble, I would focus on Wield Shortsword and Two-Weapon Fighting. For the immediate future though, it was more likely that I would be quietly avoiding my enemies while pilfering from them. To that end, my choice should be from the Class Skills list: Disguise, Find Traps, Listen, Pick Lock, Set Traps, Spot Hidden, Stealth, Trapsense. The first is already extremely high at 10. Stealth is maxed at 15 until I gain Level 4 Rogue. Of the others, it is Pick Lock I choose. After all, I know where they are keeping Lady Horsta and if I can free her, I will. She risked her life and gave up her freedom so that I could get the dragon’s tooth. A crow remembers its friends.

At last, the noise around me diminishes considerably. There are no more races. The light from under the edges of the drapes fades to darkness. Concentrating on Stealth I leave to find the entire central area is empty of both nobles and soldiers. There are some citizens still in the stadium but in the darkness, even without Stealth they will not see me. At the end of the tunnel a metal gate – like a portcullis but hinged at one side – has been drawn across the entrance. Probably, I could pick the lock and slip out. But there is a slight risk that soldiers stand guard out of view from where I stand in the tunnel. It is easier to go back, climb down to the dirt track, cross it, and climb back up to where the ungated entrances to the hippodrome are. On my way out, I remove my disguise.

When I arrive at the inn, the others are sat around a table eating.

‘You should have saved me a seat; Crow, too, would like to eat.’

‘Crow!’ Several of my friends call my name at once, while Belle, sweet Belle, leaps up and gives me her warmest hug yet, clinging to me tightly. The happiness in my body and mind makes me lost to the world until she lets go and moves an empty chair to beside hers.

Much as the others wish to hear my account of the theft of the dragon’s tooth, they are wise enough to know this is not the place for me to tell it and so they speak – loudly – of the races they watched, all the while looking at me with smiles.

Only when we are gathered in Lisandra’s large room do I explain my decision to hide rather than run. And also that I learned that Lady Horsta is being held in a building called the Noumera, in the subterranean level.

‘That’s an infamous tower,’ says Amaris. ‘We won’t see her again until the Arkine Empire is conquered. And even then, they will probably kill all their prisoners before they surrender.’

‘You are so mean spirited,’ says Belle. ‘She was your comrade all this time and you’re just going to leave her?’

The assassin shrugs. ‘I’m just being practical.’

‘What do you think Crow?’ asks Lisandra.

‘I’ll need a day or three; and it is a task best left just to me.’

Reaching across the table, Belle clasps my hand. ‘Are you sure? I have some relevant skills.’

‘In a place like a jail, the more who go in the more chance we’ll fail.’

There is a little more discussion but it is soon agreed that while the others will continue to act as visitors enjoying the celebratory races, I will attempt to break out Lady Horsta.

I sleep well, rejoicing in the success of having gained another dragon’s tooth almost from the side of the emperor himself and in full view of thousands of citizens of the Arkine Empire. Nor am I daunted by the challenge of the jail.

As if Lord Scrithax is sending me a message of encouragement, I wake to find Picklock has risen to 4. Not bad. In Nekis before my boon, I would have considered this a cause for considerable celebration. I am amused that now I receive the notification with only a small skip of my heart. Dressed in my leather armour, bringing with me my weapons, my two potions of Healing and the brace of Raise Zombie, I leave just before dawn and in the shade of a rooftop chimney, settle down to a careful study of the Noumera tower.

Every hundred or so metres along the walls of the city is a guard tower. Most are just one more story than the walls, with a platform for archers guarded by crenelations. This one has four stories above the walls and presumably at least one below the ground. It is wide too and has as grim aspect in that it is built from ironstone, a stone which is much darker than that typically used in the city and which has a dampening effect on magic. Four guards are visible at the base of the tower, beside a door of iron. From time to time a helmet is visible on the roof.

What interests me above all are the people who enter and exit the building and whether I could disguise myself to match any of them. Mostly, the guards know the people approaching, such as the officers who cause them to straighten and salute. Where a soldier turns up without being allowed straight in, they have a scroll to show the guards. Of course I am interested in these and perhaps if I were able to steal one (unfortunately, I have not unlocked the Pickpocket skill), that would be the best hope of entry.

There are several non-soldiers who also enter the tower. Some seem to be officials, in stately robes. I could disguise myself as one of these, albeit that I would have to draw heavily on our purse of coins, for the fur-lined ca pes alone would be expensive. Others, though, are workers. One, I guess from his heavy, leather apron, might be a blacksmith? Another is a carpenter with a large adze over his shoulder; he stops to chat with the guards on the way in. Then, around midday, a cart pulls up and two youths carry in a large, lidden cauldron. Even from the safe distance I am at, the scent of cooked vegetables reaches me. This must be food for those inside. And I could easily impersonate a poor young man in service of an inn or whoever made the soup.

When the two youths leave the tower and the door is locked heavily behind them, they are no longer carrying the cauldron and this gives me an idea. Moving with Stealth along the rooftops, I follow them back to a warehouse with a booth out front, selling hot food. By sitting above the booth and listening, I learn that Madame Rabonne owns the business.

Madame Rabonne doesn’t have time to waste, someone has to feed the city, you know? It is all very well, going off and conquering other realms, but people still have to eat. And if her husband is going to come home thinking himself a hero, well, he’ll soon learn that the true heroes serve Asa’s followers every day.

Madame Rabonne thinks that you can’t get hard-working apprentices anymore, they are all wastrels.

Madame Rabonne believes the greens will triumph at the games today.

Madame Rabonne intends to change her supplier of eggs; there’s nothing wrong with the farmer’s eggs it’s the man himself. He’s a blue and he loves to gloat when the blues win.

Madame Rabonne does not speak to her slovenly neighbour.

Satisfied I have learned enough, I go back to my room and exchange my armour and sword for clothes that I can fashion to the style of Madame Rabonne’s youths. Then I walk openly up to the guards of Noumera tower.

‘Good afternoon sirs. Madame Rabonne has sent me. She has a big order and requires her cauldron immediately.’

‘Cauldron is it? Are you new?’

‘Madame Rabonne was sick of her older apprentices running away, to watch chariot races and waste their day.’

‘If it’s finished with, it will be in the kitchen… you do know where the kitchen is?’

I shake my head.

‘Ground floor, at the back. You won’t miss it if you stay on the main corridor. It’s on the right at the end.’

‘Sir, Thank you. I’ll hurry on through.’

‘Don’t be long.’

None of the guards pay me any attention and with a light skip in my step, I delight in being inside the tower. There is plenty of noise from further within. There are stairs up to my left and a short corridor leads to stairs down to my right. Using Stealth I go right. Two turns and the stairs end at a corridor where lanterns are the source of an orange colouration to the stone. A cry, high-pitched and distressed, but almost musical, comes from further within. It’s a human voice, I think.

‘Shut up!’

After a short wait – surely that half-scream did not concern me? – I move around, mapping the level in my mind. There is a square central guard room with a door in each of its four walls. A corridor runs around the guardroom and each of the four sections contains six metal-barred jail cells, apart from the north wall, where I arrived. It only has two cells either side of the entrance and they are both empty.

There are at least two guards in the central room, an older voice is insistent that chariot racers were more skilled in his youth, while a younger one is sure that a modern chariot and driver would be lengths ahead of those using the double-harnessed technique of years ago.

As prisons go, this does not seem to be too awful. In the east and west corridors, there is light for the prisoners, albeit from lanterns with dirty glass plates. They have desks as well as beds and one of them even has a bookcase with about twenty books. Then I reach the southern corridor and revise my opinion. Hanging on a peg is a blood-stained leather apron with pockets containing metal torture instruments. I realise now I did not see a blacksmith enter the tower in the morning, but a torturer. The stones outside of these cells are stained and there is a constant moaning coming from one of them.

In the third I come to, poor Lady Horsta lies on bare stone, in a very heart-rending condition, battered, bruised, scalped and with her right arm obviously broken. The lock presents no difficulty and the cage door opens quietly enough so long as I am gentle. With even more gentleness, I kneel and work my fingers under her head to raise it.

‘Crow?’ she blinks twice. ‘How?’

I shake my head and make a shushing sound. Then I free a hand to take a potion of Healing and pour it a little at a time into her mouth.

How wonderful to see the transformation in her body and face. Lady Horsta’s arm straightens; her breathing becomes deep and steady. There is colour in her cheeks and her eyes, which are fastened on mine, show understanding and an almost unbearable expression of gratitude.

‘You didn’t abandon me.’

‘Though far from the streets of Crumblin I now roam, I remember that we always look after our own.’

I offer her my other potion of Healing and she is already well enough to sit up and drink it for herself. What now? Lady Horsta has no Stealth. We will have to fight our way out and the sooner the better.

‘Who, by Asārte’s fangs, are you to tell us what to do?’ Amaris scowls at me.

‘And why should we trust you?’ Lady Horsta has tired eyes, those of someone who has not slept well, or at all.

Keeping my voice to a high-pitched whisper I answer, ‘Because there are many factions in the city and not all of them approve of the emperor.’

‘Your emperor has just ambushed one of the most powerful of the twenty-five kingdoms. No one is going to make a move against someone that successful.’ The paladin isn’t even looking at me.

Unable to prevent a snort of laughter, Lisandra has to wipe a tear from her eye. This inappropriate outburst alerts Belle, who looks at me for a long time and because I meet her eye instead of looking away, she eventually understands everything.

‘That’s incredible, Crow, well done.’

‘Crow?’ Gerald leans closer. ‘Scrithax save us! This is Crow!’ his voice is kept low but it is filled with astonishment.

‘I never knew you had such a powerful Disguise skill,’ says Aarax, patting me on the back.

‘Crow?’ Lady Horsta frowns.

‘I see it now,’ mutters the assassin. ‘But what’s the point of fooling us?’

‘I want you to believe,’ I answer, ‘and not to leave.’

‘Believe in what?’ asks Lady Horsta.

Lisandra answers for me. ‘Disguised like this Crow can get to the central section. Then, when a tooth has spawned, we create a diversion and Crow grabs it before the winning charioteer can get there.’

‘That’s possible, I suppose,’ the paladin is studying me hard, as if still trying to understand what she is looking at. ‘But how will he escape?’

The mirth in our sorcerer’s face dissipates. ‘I’m not sure, but Crow believes he can.’

‘He can’t.’ The inferni is certain. ‘I couldn’t and I’m a Level Six assassin.’

‘Crow, will you be able get away?’ Belle’s voice is stern.

‘I cannot give you a guarantee, but I have the skills to help me flee.’

‘That’s true,’ Belle looks around the table. ‘I’ve seen him in the backstreets of Nekis, being chased by angry merchants, or city guards, or a gang of teenagers. No one comes close to catching Crow.’

There is a pause. Five minds imagining Crow running out of the hippodrome, heavily-armoured guards thundering in his wake.

‘Good for you, Crow. You are brave in the cause of your god and I will give you the distraction you need.’ There is a dark fire in Lady Horsta’s eyes.

‘Waste of a rogue.’ When he notices that everyone is looking at him with disapproval, Amaris shrugs and then grins, showing his fangs. ‘I’ll come along all the same, to watch him get caught.’

The Arkine noblewoman stands. ‘See you in the hippodrome; enjoy me stealing the dragon bone.’

A light drizzle provides me a good excuse for keeping my hood up as I study the arrivals. To access the central area, people use a tunnel that goes under the track from an entrance on the northern – and more well-to-do – side of the stadium. Mostly in horse-drawn carriages, sometimes in slave-carried litters, the nobles arrive and simply walk past the guards. As far as I can tell there is no special seal or token displayed; the guards already know the prominent people of the city and salute the arrivals respectfully.

Patience is my middle and last name. Crow Patience Patience. Patience. Patience. Until the moment comes (three carriages all arriving together and a jumble of people including an elderly man and four small children) and then I am Crow Bold Bold. Brisk, only five steps with Stealth, and I am among the group, towards the back. Turning. Moving. Pausing. Entering the tunnel among these people without a challenge from any soldier, to where the lively chat of the newly arrived family is overwhelmed by a roar from within. Even though this is early in a day of many scheduled races, the hippodrome already contains thousands.

Once up the final step, we are no longer subject to the attention of guards and I am free to roam the central section, where I leave the party I came with and take a place by the rail, not too far from where a portly middle-aged man is talking to a teenage boy. I could be related to them. I look away, across the track to where thousands of green supporters fill the ascending rows of seats. In front of so many eyes and yet not seen for who I am. I am pleased with myself and excited. For some champions, fighting monsters with sword and shield is their way to serve their cause. For this boon-given, fine young fellow, deception, stealth, and speed of action must be my weapons.

A large canvass covering protects the nobles from the light rain. It is just within range of Lisandra’s Flare. Our idea is that she will set fire to it or, if that proves too difficult, to some of the many banners on display around the stadium. That will be our distraction. There is a race forming up, of four chariots. Will this be the one? I move to the blue end of the central section, without making eye contact with anyone. Then I study the crowd. Lisandra will have to be near the front. But no. Those seats are all filled and would have been filled long before our arrival.

Searching, my gaze is caught by Belle stretching out a mighty yawn to signal to me. They are gathered at the back, up high. Their idea must now be to set fire to the banners above them, but for the first time since I successfully gained access to this central section, I feel uneasy. A fire at the top of the stadium will not draw much attention until it spreads. I hope Lisandra uses her Flare spell shortly before the race ends, rather than waits for the dragon tooth to spawn.

The chariots form a line. The owl banner is dropped. The voice of the crowd fills the stadium more loudly than thunder. All attention is on the race and I move closer to the throne area and the podium where the tooth should appear in a few minutes, once the race is over. My route will be up five stairs and onto a platform that contains throne, couch, table, and plinth, but it is currently blocked by soldiers, who although watching the race as best they can, hold their positions around the marble-floored, upper square.

Shouts come from all directions and a prolonged roar of approval, for some incident that I did not see. My attention is upwards. I do, though, note when the chariots come around near me and appreciate what a splendid view of the race the nobles have from here. I can see the fierce expressions of battle in the faces of the charioteers and even faint lines of froth on the necks of the horses.

The last lap seems to take a long time and yet not long enough, for although I see the Flare launched and two banners begin to burn, the race is over and the guards are not moving. The tooth has materialised. I have but moments before the successful charioteer climbs up to claim his prize.

Am I to risk pushing through those guards to snatch it? I am poised for the attempt but held back by an intuition that it will fail, even with Blink and Doppelganger; moreover, I will need those skills for my escape.

Then there are boos and jeers from around the stadium and I see Lady Horsta has swung her legs over the rail and has lowered herself full length towards the dirt track. She lets go and lands heavily on the ground. Picking herself up, the paladin runs towards the lowered stairs. Several guards at track level hurry to intercept her and even better, my guards too are moving to block the possibility she might try to climb up to the tooth. Now there is plenty of room for me to access the emperor’s viewing area.

I turn my cloak inside out, so that an urgent scarlet is on display. Then I run.

‘Stop her!’

A dozen soldiers turn to look at me but they are too slow and I have succeeded!

You have completed a stage of the Epic Draco Missio

You have gained 1,000 EXP

Dragon’s Tooth

A long, ivory fang, this tooth radiates magic.

This item can be soulbound. Do you wish to bind it to your soul?

YES / NO

Soulbinding

If an item is soulbound, it moves into an extra-dimensional inventory and cannot be removed from you. This also means it cannot be traded or given to another.

YES

Doppelganger!

Blinkstep!

Stealth.

My plan had been to run for the tunnel, hoping a second Blinkstep would allow me to clear the guards and escape into the streets. But by good luck I have blinked to find myself adjacent to the emperor’s couch. Without hesitation I drop and roll beneath the purple cloth with which it is covered. Dark. Safe? Crowmind says none of the soldiers were looking in my direction when I appeared here. Have any of the soldiers understood what just happened?

Above the cries and jeers of the crowd, I can hear the clash of metal on metal and the shouts of the nearby soldiers.

‘Get her!’

‘Don’t let her escape!’

My doppelganger, in her bright red cloak, was ordered to run away. And being immune to spear points or crossbow bolts, she should not be easy to stop. Thirty seconds pass; my mana pool drops from 7 to 6. The chase recedes until I cannot hear it. Instead, something must have happened in the arena, as from all directions I hear triumphant cheers that have a jeering tone. I hope that Lady Horsta has not been killed. My mana continues to drain; good, for that surely means the doppelganger is still running. Surely if a soldier saw me drop to the ground here, footsteps would have approached by now?

Another mana point. A growing confidence in my hiding place.

Another mana point.

And then a blare of trumpets that I recognise from the previous day. The emperor has arrived. It’s too late to move now, so that part of my mind contemplating flight relaxes. I am committed to a long wait under this couch.

Several minutes after my mana has become exhausted and the volume of the crowd has dropped considerably, I hear voices.

‘What happened captain?’ The emperor must have seated himself on the nearby throne.

‘A sorceress has gained a dragon’s tooth.’

‘How?’

‘She was standing among the aristoi and while her accomplice feinted an attack from the direction of the track, the sorceress ran up and took it.’

‘How did she get away?’

‘She was immune to our weapons. We tried to grapple her, but just when we thought we’d got her subdued she disappeared.’

‘Disappeared? Invisible?’

‘No, my emperor. Gone completely. Our men fell forward into the space she had been in.’

‘How? Did she cast a spell? Use a magic item?’

‘Not a spell, my emperor, possibly an item. She simply was no longer there.’

‘Like someone else had Teleported her?’

‘Possibly, my lord.’

‘What about the accomplice?’

‘We have her below. It is Lady Horsta of Trolland.’

‘Interesting. Bring her up. Bound tight and searched carefully first, of course.’

‘Yes, sir!’

I wait. What else can I do? I can tell from the roars of encouragement from all around me that the chariot races have resumed.

‘Here she is, my emperor.’

‘Lady Horsta. Who were you assisting? It cannot have been a sorceress from Trolland, since your god is out of the game.’

‘Northway.’

‘Northway? They do have a sorceress or two but it hardly seems credible that they have the power to Teleport.’

‘I’m a paladin. I don’t lie.’

‘I’m surprised at you, though. Why sacrifice yourself for Northway?’

‘Anything that can punish you for your treachery is worthwhile for me. And if my life has helped Northway obtain the dragon army, then I’ve no regrets about my action.’

‘We have a good relationship with Duke Wallace of Northway.’

‘You had a good relationship with my queen.’

‘Touché. Now, tell me how the sorceress escaped.’

‘She possesses the Farstep Compass.’

‘Really? I thought that Hailand own that artefact.’

‘I can’t tell you the nature of the agreement between Hailand and Northway, because she didn’t talk about it and I didn’t ask. But I can tell you that she’ll be safely back in Rillou by now.’

‘No matter. No one will complete that quest, it’s impossible.’

‘Believe that if it helps you sleep better at night.’

‘Your tone is disrespectful. I will keep you alive for a possible prisoner exchange. But you have just ensured that your prison will be the Noumera, in the subterranean level. Captain, take her there.’

‘Yes, my emperor.’

‘The dragons are coming for you,’ Lady Horsta’s voice is muffled. ‘Your fate is that you will be eaten by a dragon under the command of Duke Wallace.’

There is plenty for me to think about from that conversation. For one, the paladin lied! Is lying an extension of her philosophy that no matter if the means accuses, the end excuses? Or could it be that Lady Horsta was not, in fact, a paladin but another warrior class like a warlord? If she were not bound by the requirements of being a paladin, then that would make much more sense of her companionship with an inferni.

As for Lady Horsta’s story, it was clever and would keep the Arkine emperor wondering about the alliances forming elsewhere in the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.

Now I must wait in the darkness beneath the couch. At the very least, until the emperor, with his personal bodyguard, has departed. Probably, until after the final race is over. Poor Belle and my friends will be suffering with concern for me. I wish I could reassure them that I am a cheerful crow. It is with considerable satisfaction that I open my inventory and look at the three teeth I possess. Just twenty-one to go.

‘I very much doubt we can obtain that particular tooth,’ Amaris leans back against the wall behind him and stretches out his arms as if unconcerned by the challenge of getting the Arkine Empire’s key to the epic quest. ‘But perhaps there’s a market here for dragon teeth collected by race winners. In which case, we shall find an owner and obtain one. Whatever value they set on their life will be greater than any amount of gold someone would give them.’

Lady Horsta ignores the sinister implications of the inferni’s words and not for the first time, I wonder how she manages so easily to partner with someone whose values are opposite those that a paladin should hold. ‘What we have to consider is the respawn criteria for the teeth. Are they on a timer? In which case, it cannot be a long one, because the next race is forming up.’

‘Or maybe it’s the races that cause a tooth to spawn?’ suggests Aarax.

The paladin nods, ‘Could be that. Let’s see what happens.’

This time, six chariots form up on the dirt track: three blue and three green. This will be a team race and – accompanied by even more intense roaring from the crowd than for the previous race – an exciting battle unfolds, where a blue charioteer gets an early lead and her teammates then do their best to block the greens, until the defenders are overtaken and all three greens pursue the leader. Much to the feverish delight of the people around us, and despite the fact her horses visibly tire towards the end of the race, blue has sufficient a lead to win.

‘This is so much fun!’ Belle is cheering along with our neighbours and has learned their chants.

My attention, though, is on the plinth and it seems to me that a dragon’s tooth respawned at the exact moment the winning chariot crossed the winning line. I say this.

‘Yet it could be a timer still,’ muses the paladin.

Belle stands up and walks along the row to a young couple who are wearing blue armbands. ‘Excuse me, what is that prize that the winning charioteer is collecting?’

‘It’s a dragon’s tooth from the epic quest,’ replies the woman, smiling at Belle.

‘It’s clever, don’t you see,’ says the man, ‘only an Arkine charioteer will ever win a race to be able to collect it. No outsider will.’

‘But what do the winners do with them?’

‘Collect them in their inventory. The lead charioteer of the Blues, Cassiodorus Adromecus, has thirty-one of them,’ replies the woman.

‘Don’t they sell them?’

‘Oh no.’ The man looks shocked. ‘That would be treason. They must soulbind the teeth at once.’

‘I see. Thank you.’

‘Well?’ asks Belle on her return. ‘How are we going to get an Arkine dragon tooth?’ She does not sound dismayed, if anything, she radiates confidence in the way she stands with hands on hips.

How indeed? I believe it might be possible with my skills. Especially once I have unlocked Doppelganger.

‘Crow, what are you thinking?’ Belle’s voice is suspicious, she must know my expressions well enough to realise I am feeling excited by the challenge. To steal a dragon’s tooth in front of a vast crowd of citizens from Cassiodorus would be an achievement worthy of Lord Scrithax’s chosen hero. ‘You’re not thinking about going up there, are you?’

‘You’re good,’ says the paladin, looking at me. ‘But the penalty to Stealth you’ll get from such public scrutiny of the scene, not to mention all those guards, means you have no chance of simply climbing the central wall and taking a tooth. And even if somehow you got your hands on one, the guards will kill you before you escape, probably after torturing you.’

‘I wonder how you enter a team in a race?’ says Aarax, happily changing the subject from one concerned with torturing poor Crow. ‘Could we do that?’

‘Hopeless.’ Amaris shakes his head. ‘They spend years training for these races and a fortune in gold on the horses.’

‘I wonder how, exactly, that respawn trigger works,’ says Lisandra, ‘I agree that we can’t win a real chariot race. But could we come here at night? When it is quiet? And stage our own race to cause a tooth to spawn?’

‘Brilliant!’ exclaims Gerard. A wide smile forms on Aarax’s face and even the assassin grunts approvingly.

‘Perhaps that might work,’ says Lady Horsta. ‘We must come back late tonight and see how well guarded is the stadium.’

If anyone has anything further to say about this idea, they must wait as to the blare of a dozen trumpets a man in purple robes who is large, mostly bald, but with curly white hair circling the back of his head, climbs up the stairs to the throne in the centre of the arena. Everyone around us stands to attention. This must be the Arkine emperor before me, exuding majesty.

We also get to our feet. To the north, south, east and west, the emperor makes a salute. Then he speaks. Even though the crowd have fallen silent – an astonishing scene, so many people, such little noise, mostly the clack, clack, clack of rope on flagpole – we can still hear the emperor’s words as they are relayed by heralds who are positioned in every part of the stadium. Our nearest is a little to my right, about eight rows down.

‘Citizens of the Arkine Empire, we have conquered Trolland. Their capital has fallen. Queen Togesta is dead. Daspartar is eliminated from the world.’

A huge cheer swells, fades, and swells again until the emperor waves both arms, signalling for silence.

‘To praise Asa and celebrate her increase in power, there will be a two-day festival, with races every day.’

Now the emperor takes his throne, allowing the crowd to express their delight at this news, and delight, too, at living in a victorious realm, with a powerful god and a powerful military. Although I would not exchange our necromancy for their library, I am envious of the Arkines for their success. Poor Lady Horsta, though, is clearly heartbroken. The paladin’s head is in her hands and she is murmuring, ‘Oh no. Oh no,’ over and over.

I feel sorry for Lady Horsta and stand beside her, my hand on her back. It would be horrible to learn that Nekis had fallen to its enemies. Not only because of the loss of my god but because of a fear for what might have befallen Mistress Withen, Master Cathaldus, and all my friends when enemy soldiers were marching through the streets. So I can imagine something of the pain of Lady Horsta, even while welcoming the news in my heart. I may not be cheering and dancing, as are much of the crowd, but the cruel truth is that the fall of Trolland will open the east border of the Kingdom of Lost Souls and lift much of the pressure created by our shortages of food and raw materials. The Arkine Empire’s successful attack on Callondum gives us more time to complete the epic quest and bring a dragon army to the aid of the Necromancer.

‘Well, the alliance of our kingdoms is at an end,’ says the inferni, looking at Lady Horsta. ‘What will you do personally? Will you continue to help me?’

Jaw clenched, the paladin lifts her head and spits out her words. ‘I will help all enemies of the Arkine Empire. Their lies and false treaties caught us by surprise. I will revenge my queen. It’s what she would want me to do and what Daspartar would wish. You will continue to have my support.’

We are a subdued group, therefore, who, after two more races, make our way out of the hippodrome and find rooms at an inn, the Golden Dragon. From the paintings on the walls, the banners, and the clothing of the staff, it is clear that this is a blue-supporting establishment and so we play the part of visitors from Nekis, here to support blue for the celebratory games.

That evening, while we are eating an expensive meal at the inn, my Disguise goes up to 9. Just one more and I will unlock Doppelganger. I am therefore in high spirits. Though I try to adapt to the despondence of Lady Horsta, I find myself laughing easily at the conversation around our table.

‘Can we go out now?’ asks Belle when we are done eating; I admire how she is always eager to experience the life of a new town. My own feelings are more wary. I want to understand the unspoken rules of a place before I move through it. Here, for instance, there is a man who is in a dark corner and has been watching over the room. I do not believe him a rogue and he certainly shows no intention of approaching with the intent of stealing from us. A security guard of some sort? If so, he is far more discreet than the two armoured men on the main doors. A slight flicker of his red eyes towards that corner tells me that our assassin is also alert to this man.

‘Don’t leave anything valuable in your rooms,’ says the assassin, voicing my concern too.

When we leave the inn, the streets of Cassikos are filled with partygoers. It is night but you would hardly know this, hundreds of lanterns hang from tall, wooden poles which have clearly been erected along the streets for this purpose. Most of the houses we pass are also well lit. Some have musicians playing inside and when we pass these I can hear a muffled thumping on wooden floors that speaks of dancing.

Belle too hears the same music. ‘I’m sure there are balls taking place somewhere in Cassikos tonight,’ she says. ‘I wish I’d kept that dress.’

‘You should be less frivolous and devote as much effort to your mission to that of dancing,’ mutters Lady Horsta.

‘I know you are grieving for your queen and your god,’ replies Belle cooly, ‘so I’ll forgive you that patronising remark. But you know nothing about me and nor do you seem to be aware that I can use my Dance skill in combat to cause my opponents to be considered flat-footed and vulnerable to flanking damage. I need to go dancing as much as possible to try to level up that skill.’

Not for the first time this day, I feel admiration for Belle. I also had not appreciated that Dance was an important skill for her fighting tactics as well as her chosen career. It makes sense though, that the shadow dancer class has feats and options related to dancing that are distinct from those of the assassin and rogue.

Accompanied by scents of cooked meat, rice, lentils and other dishes; surrounded by music, laughter, and smiling people; and walking under streamers of green or blue or purple we make our way to the hippodrome.

Once at the stadium it is immediately obvious that there is no question of us being able to stage our own race, for hundreds, if not thousands, of people have chosen to use the arena for their revelries. Fireworks fly across the stadium, blue and green seem to be competing for control of the sky. Performers are juggling fire. Musicians are playing with clusters of people gathered around them. No activity seems to be particularly official, there are no soldiers that I can see.

‘Let’s get closer to the throne,’ suggests Lisandra and we walk down to where the first row of seats is just five or six metres above the sand. Even though the central section has no lanterns, the explosions of stars from the fireworks lights up that area in blues and greens. There is no dragon tooth above the plinth. This surely means the appearance of a tooth is triggered, rather than on a timer.

‘Well that’s a problem.’ Lisandra leans on the inner wall of the stadium. The drop to the dirt track below her is about three times my height.

‘Perhaps bribery might work?’ suggests Belle.

The inferni shakes his head, pale hair swaying. ‘Let us just leave this realm until it has been conquered. Then we can arrange our own chariot races. Preferably with the bones of the emperor and his family buried under the dirt here, so that every race mocks him.’

‘Gruesome details aside,’ says Lady Horsta, ‘I agree. Let’s leave in the morning and hope that the wheel of fortune turns soon.’

I haven’t given up on being able to steal a tooth but I say nothing. I need to level up Disguise one more point and then test the effects of Doppelganger.

My opportunity to do so arises in the early hours of the morning, with my next skill increase. I swap my afk skill to Spot Hidden then get out of bed. Pulling the curtains of a small, locked window open, there is enough moonlight to see my reflection in a mirror. I dress in my leather armour and strap on my swords and daggers. Now I am in a moment of which crows can only dream, a moment of magic. I trigger my newly unlocked skill.

Two of me! Crowtwice. And only at the cost of 1 mana. I look at myself. I reach out to shake my own hand but while I have offered my right hand he – it – has offered the left. My doppelganger is a mirror. By concentrating, I can get it to swap hands and now we shake. His grip is firm. He’s a handsome rogue all right. An agile young man. Hair as black as a crow. With growing confidence in controlling my double, I have him draw his short sword and exchange a few feints and blocks with me. He is fast and has my reflexes.

My mana goes down a point.

Ahh, so that’s how this works. Every thirty seconds or so that my doppelganger is active, I lose a mana point. That currently gives me six and a half minutes, assuming no use of Blinkstep. That’s not bad but all the same I want more and I swap my afk skill to Meditation. And then, curious, I activate Blinkstep. Does he Blink too? No, just me. Interesting.

While I still have mana, I try, but fail, to see out of his eyes; I try issuing an order for him to climb out of the window and onto the roof and that seems to work. He moves to the window and unlocks it, before I mentally call him back. I try commanding him to use Stealth and watch with satisfaction as he steps back into shadow and crouches, still as a chair. I poke his upper arm with a dagger, carefully though, as I am concerned that I might take damage when he does. Nothing? No pain. No blood. No reaction. It is as though I have jabbed a scarecrow of straw.

Mana exhausted, the doppelganger disappears. I unbuckle my leather cuirass and remove it before flopping back on my bed. The Doppelganger skill is even better than I hoped for and I fall asleep dreaming of dozens of crows all circling interchangeably above a tower.

Tedious is the life of a sailor, I learn. At least when the wind is mocking us. I also learn that seasickness comes high on my list of the unbearable experiences. Each time the mainsail comes about for us to head southwards, nausea fills my body. I can keep it from overwhelming me, but only by concentrating on my tasks. Sometimes hitting a wave so hard we seem to stop and sometimes dropping through the air because the water has disappeared, the lurching movements of the boat bring bile into my mouth. Only when we turn northwards again does the embrace of sickness relax, as waves now come to lift the stern and run beneath us.

By the time we drop anchor in an inlet that our captain says is close to Cassikos, I have had six days of the life of a sailor, which is more than sufficient to let me know it would not suit me.

Urgency is all very well but so too is preparation for our next challenge. The extra days at sea have brought me up to 8 in Disguise, just two away from meeting the requirements for Doppelganger. Nor was Disguise simply a means to obtaining that intriguing magical skill, with each increase I cast a critical eye over my party and better transform them to fishers, paying attention to details such as the roughness of their hands and – much to Belle’s annoyance – blackening their fingernails.

When the sun has set and twilight turned to night, there is a strange ruddy glow in the sky to our east. It is a cloudy above us and the moon is a barely discernible blur. Yet like the approach of dawn, there is a definite pink hue to the eastern clouds. I am not the only one to notice.

‘What’s that light in the sky?’ asks Aarax.

Captain Adelaide looks up, unconcerned. ‘That’s Cassikos. The emperor has such an abundance of oil that he keeps lanterns lit all night on the main roads. Not to mention the thousands of homes with their own fires and lanterns. You are seeing the clouds above the city by the light of these fires.’

‘How interesting,’ says Belle. ‘It must be a huge city; I can’t wait to see it.’

‘Rogues might not welcome all that light; they would miss the shadows of the night.’

Adelaide, who knows that I am a rogue, gives me a smile. ‘There is that. But I for one am glad to be able to move around the city after dark, especially on long, winter nights.’

I wake with the dawn and feel like singing along with the blackbirds, thrushes and warblers who are praising the return of the sun. Away from the sometimes-nauseating beat of the waves, in calm water, I am happy to be at sea. A floating home offers freedom and adventure; even better, I live in a floating home full of fish. While the others stir I take out a large skillet and braise some fish meat for their breakfast.

Before the anchor is wound for the boat to depart our sheltered mooring, our spellcasters meditate in order to obtain their spells for the day. Even with her book of symbols to help her, it takes almost an hour for Lisandra to memorize her full complement of spells. For our druid, Aarax, and for Lady Horsta’s paladin spells, only a half hour of prayer is needed. Today, though, Lady Horsta shakes her head and looks worried.

‘There’s nothing there. No mana from Daspartar. That’s never happened before.’

No one responds, I do, however, notice Amaris frowning and he looks at me with his red eyes and I know we both have the same idea: it could be that Callondum has fallen and that Daspartar has been eliminated from the pantheon of gods who play the game of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms.

From her unsettled behaviour, it is clear that Lady Horsta has also drawn the same conclusion and to comfort her I say, ‘when Lord Scrithax gave me his boon, he warned that all spells would cease soon.’

At first she does not seem to have heard me. Then the paladin nods, ‘It could be something like that. Daspartar might have gifted his mana today to those defending the walls of our capital.’

With a good wind behind us at last, it is still morning as we clear a final headland and the city of Cassikos comes into view.

‘How beautiful,’ exclaims Belle.

The vast metropolis is separated from fields of orange trees and olive bushes by tall walls of a light-coloured stone with a faintly pink hue. From our distance, the true size of the city is hard to judge, but as we rise and fall with the waves and get closer I can see that many of the buildings are massive. The harbour is impressive. Two long, curved walls reach towards the sea like the mandibles of a giant ant. Inside the protection of those walls there must be a hundred masts of berthed shipping. I have to acknowledge that Cassikos is three or four times the size of Nekis.

Once we are between the two lighthouses that have been built at the end of each wall, the motion of the waves ceases to trouble us and Captain Adelaide steers the boat carefully along a road of water marked by buoys, one that is clear of all moored ships and which leads toward the mouth of a river that divides the city in two. Slowly, we enter the mouth of the river and approach one of the great stone buildings I had seen from the sea. Close up, I am impressed by the sculptures that stand on the roof and the tall columns with curved tops that line the front of the building.

Despite my curiosity and interest in the many people I can see on the quays I am not so distracted as to miss the sharp calls of our captain and haul on the ropes as required; with the mainsail entirely furled we drift to the quay and a row of metal bollards. Neat as you like, crowlike, Captain Adelaide steps off the boat and onto the quayside with a rope that she whips around a bollard, then, as it stretches taught and halts the last momentum of our boat, she catches a second rope thrown by Amaris and pulls that tight around a second bollard. We are at rest. We have arrived in Cassikos.

‘Customs House.’ She gestures with her thumb to the large building. ‘I have to get a license from there to sell our fish. Normally, the crew help with filling orders but you lot can go. The innkeepers can send their own people. I think I’ll have no difficulty selling our cargo.’ She is looking at nearby fishing boats and the servants with baskets crowding eagerly around them.

‘Thank you,’ says Lisandra. ‘We appreciate all your help.’

Really, it should be the paladin who thanks the captain, they are from the same realm and the boat was assigned to us by the castellan of Dunshandan. Lady Horsta, however, is downcast and looking only at her belongings.

‘Not at all. Good luck in your mission. If you need me, I intend to stay three nights in the city before sailing home. Will get a berth somewhere in the harbour.’

After bidding our farewells to the captain, we walk along the river’s eastern quayside towards a gatehouse, following the general drift of people into the city. None of our party are fools and the assassin, in particular, is constantly alert, monitoring all those nearby. If I were a rogue I would consider us too attentive and dangerous to attempt to steal from us.

There is no difficulty with the guards as we enter the city proper and I’m immediately struck by the streamers and banners that are everywhere. They are mostly green and blue, although some are purple with the white owl I saw on the banners of the Arkine army.

We pass a huge building with a copper dome.

‘Level Five Library,’ states Amaris when I move my gaze from the high roof to him. Asa, their god, is a goddess of wisdom and clearly the Arkines value learning: to have invested so much effort into making the city’s library so large is extraordinary and a little disheartening. Crow and books are wary of each other. I treat reading as an unpleasant necessity and I am slow at it. The thought of all the books that must be in that building is daunting.

The next major building we pass is, according to the assassin, a level three church. At least Nekis has an equivalent, albeit ours is less fanciful, without the many pillars and statues that decorate the Arkine building.

Moving onwards into the city, we are surrounded by increasing numbers of people, many of whom are wearing green or blue. And then we come to an enormous building: four stories high but so long that it would take me two minutes, sprinting as fast as I can, to traverse it. Dozens of entrance arches are on the ground floor and that’s where everyone is going. From within there are the roars of a large crowd.

‘Hippodrome, Level Three,’ says Amaris, licking his lips as though very satisfied to be able to convey this information.

‘Shall we go in?’ asks Lisandra, as people push past.

‘Oh, we must!’ exclaims Belle, taking my arm.

‘Perhaps we should find rooms first?’ our sorceress wonders.

Amaris shakes his head, ‘I wouldn’t leave my bags unattended in any case.’

‘Come on then!’ and Belle tugs me towards the nearest arch.

A short tunnel leads to an interior that is a long, oval, dirt racetrack, with steeply ascending rows of stone seating, rows that are dense with people, especially those near the track. Bewildered by the noise, I don’t understand the guard in front of us.

‘Green or blue?’ he asks again.

‘Blue.’ Amaris leans forward to answer, shouting so as to be heard.

The guard points to his right and we move that way, to a section of the stadium full people with blue clothing, banners and armbands. The hippodrome is so full that it is only near the top that we find space to seat ourselves. I like it up here in the heights of the building; away from the thickest crowds and the reverberations of their shouts I can gather myself.

No race is taking place, but there are four chariots on the track. Each is a very small vehicle, with tiny wheels, and with four horses harnessed to them. Their drivers are not decked in green and blue as I had anticipated, but orange, red, white and yellow.

‘Isn’t this exciting!’ says Belle, clasping her knees, ‘I wish my friends could see me now.’

That thought appeals to me too. Mistress Withen would be astonished to see such a massive spectacle, Master Cathaldus too, although he would pretend otherwise and assume to instruct me on the subtle tactics of being a charioteer.

‘It’s great,’ Aarax is keenly studying the track below. ‘Doesn’t the one on the inside have an advantage?’

‘Or maybe the outside is better,’ offers Gerard, ‘seeing as you can cut across the corner at a safer angle?’

Alert to the presence of pickpockets, I calculate that three are working their way towards us. And after all, why not? We have bags and purses and are obviously not from any local street.

To the nearest, an elderly woman on the same row as us, who is pretending to have dropped something, I make the Thieves’ Cant sign for “leave” and add “now”. I can speak much more clearly in gesture than word. For a moment I wonder whether Thieves’ Cant is as universally known among the guilds of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms as I’d been taught by the rogues of Nekis. Then the woman scowls at me and turns away.

The second is a youth who is attempting Stealth from the very top row, just back from us. All I have to do is look into his eyes and shake my head for him to hurry away. And the third is a middle-aged man, who is staring, horrified, at our assassin. Amaris is drawing a finger across his throat and glaring at the rogue. No special language is needed to interpret this gesture. The man turns pale and hurries away.

Believing us safe from being robbed, I turn my attention back to the arena, where the four chariots are lining up. The central section around which they will race is raised and has a bronze rail against which stand another audience: men, women and children whose gold bracelets shine and whose gem-studded jewellery glitters even from this far away. In the very centre of this area is a platform that is raised further still, surrounded by fifty or sixty soldiers. On this platform is a large marble throne, currently empty. And beside the throne is a plinth made of a black, shining stone.

There is a change in the tone of the crowd sounds. A lady dressed in purple and standing on the central section near the chariots has a banner of an owl in both hands and is waving it, waving it, waving it. Until she lets go. Long before the cloth has fluttered to the ground the charioteers are whipping their horses, urging them to leap forward while the crowd roars even more loudly than before.

The race is underway.

What must it be like to be a charioteer in this arena? With thousands of people watching you and shouting support. What must it be like to be dragged over the dirt by four eager horses, just a thin board beneath your feet, bouncing and jolting, reliant upon two small wheels spinning at breaking point? Frightening, probably. Exhilarating, certainly. I would like to be one of them.

After the first corner, which is taken best by the chariot in the third lane, it seems that they can move as they please and that there is a favoured line for the corners, as they all come around by starting wide, near our wall, and cutting across close to the interior wall; whoever is first in taking that line has a noticeable advantage. Yet horses tire and make mistakes. After two laps, there are two chariots side by side for the lead.

Before I realise it, we have a winner. The intensity of the crowd’s voice diminishes and orange is riding a victory lap, waving to us. There are people on the track, raking it and also pushing a wooden staircase on rollers up to the central section. The victor springs from his chariot, while men and women in orange take the horses and lead them away. Now he mounts the staircase and is escorted by the woman in purple to the throne. No, the plinth.

‘Is that I dragon tooth I see? The one we seek as a key?’ With so much noise, there is no chance of being overheard.

‘By Lord Scrithax’s horns, I think you’re right!’ exclaims Gerard.

Above the black plinth floats a dragon tooth and the winning charioteer goes up and clasps it, holding it above his head to cheers from all around the stadium. Then the key we need disappears, presumably into his inventory.

The river is broad here, deep too and fast flowing. Several fishing boats are out on the sea beyond the estuary and that is encouraging. For our next dragon tooth we have to travel to Cassikos, another four or five days along the coast, and perhaps we’ll be able to purchase passage by ship.

‘Leave the talking to me,’ says Lady Horsta as we approach a gatehouse. Two towers flank an archway, with a raised portcullis and thick, iron-studded, doors that are open. Six soldiers in chainmail are leaning on their spears.

The paladin walks up to the nearest. ‘I’m Lady Horsta, here on orders from Queen Togesta. Is Captain Hildeim still in charge of the town?’

Immediately, the soldiers jerk as though they are puppets who have been pulled up sharply to their toes. From having had expressions that were complacent and indifferent they now stare at our spokesperson with incredulity and apprehension.

‘I’ll show you to the captain, ma’am.’ A grey-bearded soldier goes ahead of us, shouting unnecessarily at the citizens to make way.

My first impression of Dunshandan is that the city is prosperous: there are no derelict buildings, all the houses seem occupied; the street corners have stalls for vendors of food; I can hear the ringing metal sounds of blacksmiths at work, as well as the high-pitched squeaking from a nearby cork-cutter. A faint tang of urine in the air says that they have leatherworkers nearby too.

We come to a four-story stone building with crenelations around the roof. Here the guards stable our pony (not before Lisandra removes the bag with our coins) and we are shown inside. One floor up is the solar, a long room with a wooden floor and a raised platform at the end on which a lord might put their throne but here there were several musical instruments resting on or beside chairs. As I look around the room, I realise it has been prepared for a party, or a dance. All the seating is against the walls and green and red streamers criss-cross each other, fastened to roof beams above me. With sunrays forming slanted boxes of light through tall windows, it all feels very cheerful.

Several minutes pass and Lisandra has had enough of standing, waiting. She finds a chair – one without armrests that would have confined her too tightly – and sits in it. I join her and, soon after, so do Aarax, Gerard and Belle. His steps loud on the wooden floor, Amaris walks to the opposite side of the room and takes a seat there. The division in the party is not lost on our paladin, who looks one way, then the other, then chooses to remain on her feet in the middle of the room.

‘After this,’ Lisandra says, ‘I’m going to take a long, long bath. With constant top-ups of hot water.’

‘Good idea,’ says Belle. ‘And don’t you think there might be a dance here this evening? See the violins over there and the cello. If there is, I need to buy some new clothes.’

‘I just want a decent, hot meal,’ says Gerard. ‘Roast chicken will do me fine.’

Aarax nods. ‘A soft bed for me. I could sleep for a week.’

‘Oh yes,’ agrees Lisandra with such passion we all smile.

A door at the stage end of the room opens and in comes a man with black and red clothing, slick black hair and a finely sculpted moustache. ‘Lady Horsta, what a surprise. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. We are getting ready for St Betram’s Eve.’

‘Captain Hildeim. This is Amaris, emissary of the Inferni. And my other travel companions––’ a gesture towards our side of the room ‘––we are attempting the Epico Draco Missio and need your assistance to bring us by boat to Cassikos as soon as possible.’

‘Of course, of course. Absolutely. No problem at all. You can have a boat and a crew for your journey.’ The captain leans on one of the musician’s chairs. ‘But since the traitorous Arkines have declared war on us, we can’t openly transport you there with the status you deserve. You’ll have to disguise yourselves as a fishing ship from some pathetic, godforsaken realm, like the Kingdom of Lost Souls.’

A smile appears on Lady Horsta’s face. One that quickly fades, before she says, ‘Furthermore, you must take immediate measures to ensure Dunshandan is secure. It’s possible that an Arkine force will besiege the town. Cerridford is in their hands and there’s nothing to stop them ferrying soldiers across the Evrotes.

There is a pause. ‘What do you suggest?’

‘Increase your stockpiles of grain until you can withstand a year of siege. If you can afford it from the royal treasury, buy all the food that is available in and outside the city. If you can’t afford what the farmers are asking, simply commander supplies anyway and the queen will reimburse those affected when the war is over. Raise a militia from every person who can pull a bow and begin their training at once. Commission the manufacture of thousands of arrows.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘We encountered the main army of the Arkine Empire, led by Count Basillos,’ says Lady Horsta. ‘They must be at Callondum by now.’

‘So I’ve been informed. Is the capital secure?’

‘Of course. The Arkines had no siege equipment with them. They will try to besiege the city and they will fail. We humiliated the Jomskar in Forty-seven and we’ll do the same with the Arkines.’

I’m not so sure of this, having listened to the thoughts of one of the attackers. It seems to me that the Arkines have a reasonably good chance of infiltrating the city via the aqueduct. I don’t say anything though. In fact, it would suit my god if Callondum fell to the Arkine Empire. That way, the blockade on our eastern border would end. Just because I was in an alliance of sorts with Lady Horsta didn’t make Trolland friends of ours.

‘Hear! Hear!’ The captain looks around. ‘Ahh, that deserves a drink but everything has been moved for the dance.’

‘There’s a dance tonight?’ asks Belle.

‘Indeed, St Bertram’s is the main ball of the whole year.’

‘Good, I’ll leave you to your affairs. I need to buy a new dress. Come on Lisandra.’

With a chuckle, Lisandra heaves herself up. Gerard and Aarax stand too. Since I am no use when it comes to talking, I decide to go with my friends and move towards the door.

‘Wait!’ says Lady Horsta, looking quite stunned. ‘How can you talk of balls when there’s so much to do. We need to visit the armoury and equip ourselves properly with weapons and armour. We need to get supplies to the boat. We’ll be leaving on the first tide after dawn. There’s no time for dancing.’

‘There’s always time for dancing,’ Belle replies and leaves. As do we all.

I find that it’s a relief to be away from the paladin and even more so the inferni. So, it seems, do the rest of my friends. It is a cheerful group, then, who, having secured rooms, settle around a large table in the Old Oak Inn and order too much food.

‘By Scrithax, that’s better,’ says Gerard, studying the remains of his roast chicken and spotting a last bite of white meat, which he picks up and chews. Plates, some of them still laden with vegetables and pastries, cover the surface of the scarred wooden table.

Lisandra agrees. ‘It is. Civilisation again. I’m not made for the wild.’

‘At least we will go by boat for the journey to Cassikos,’ points out Aarax.

‘We will!’ Lisandra’s hand reaches for a pink fruit, hesitates and takes a bread roll from a different plate. ‘That’s the way to travel. Let the wind put in all the effort and not my legs. I might even get to study magic on the way.’

Well fed, I am drowsy, but Belle wants to find a dress for the ball and so we walk along the streets and it soon becomes clear how small is this town. Just fifteen minutes is needed to walk across from the gate in the middle of the north wall to that of the south. And about the same from east to west.

Disappointed, Belle can only find a dark green dress that would suit a grandmother of Nekis in the modesty of its length and lack of waist. Nevertheless, buying also ribbon, scissors, needle and thread, she is confident that her apparel will be suitable for the dancing she is looking forward to in the evening.

‘And how about this for you, Crow?’ The shirt she is touching is suitably dark for my taste, but has ridiculous sleeves whose cuffs hang down past my waist.

‘I am out of place in events like the ball; my habitat is street, roof, and wall.’

‘Come on, I think you’ll look very handsome.’

‘Nor do I have any skill in dance; I know all will stare at me askance.’

‘We’ll take it,’ says Belle, decisively. And as the stallholder folds up the garments into a bundle she grips my arms firmly and looks at me with her eager, dark eyes. ‘You are nimble and a fast learner. You just have to copy me.’

Although I dread the prospect of wearing a foolish shirt and hopping from foot to foot in full view of many people, there is the compensating thought that Belle has chosen me to be her partner for this ball. And had I been given this opportunity to be her date in Nekis, I would have not hesitated to take it. Let the rich dress better and move with studied elegance. I will not mind their scornful looks so long as the radiance of Belle’s presence fills my body with gold.

***

The ball at the keep is exactly as I feared it would be: too crowded, too bright under a dozen chandeliers, and too scornful of me in my full-sleeved garb. If I were able to do so, I would rely upon my Stealth and disappear into the shadows at the corners of the hall. Knowing me too well, however, Belle has her arm firmly linked in mine as she confidently stands among the guests.

All the talk is of war with the Arkine Empire and the mood in the hall is that of a boxer entering the ring.

‘I always mistrusted them,’ says a man I have been introduced to as the Margrave of Eastwick. ‘And it’s their own fault now if we take lands on the east of the River Evrotes. What’s that next river along, dear?’ This to the margravine, who stands beside him, all pale silk and pearls.

‘The River Perus, dear.’

‘That’s right. Their lands as far as the Perus should be forfeit to Trolland. That’s damn good farming land.’

‘Quite right!’

‘Hear! Hear!’

My voice is not raised more than a murmur but I regret my next words as the group around me fall silent. ‘You speak as if the battle must be won; you do not believe they can take Callondum?’

After his surprise at my question has been overcome, the margrave answers me, ‘Why of course not. You’ve seen the walls of our capital. I was a young man in Forty-Seven–’

‘You’re still young at heart, dear.’

‘–and the same is going to happen to the Arkines as happened to the Jomskar filth. We’ll intercept their supplies until they have to fall back and then we’ll ride around their flanks and turn their retreat into a rout. By Daspartar’s bolts of lightning, we’ll make them suffer. Of course we will. And peace will cost them dear. Everyone in this room will gain land from the Arkines, mark my words!’

‘Hurrah!’

‘Long live the queen!’

When the enthusiastic toasts subside – waiters hurrying over with more glasses of champagne on their silver trays – the margravine asks, ‘What do you do, young man? Who is your family?’

‘I’m a companion of Lady Horsta as we endeavour the epic quest; it is as a rogue that I am at my best.’

‘Well, goodness me, a rogue! How exciting. But must I fear the loss of my pearls? Hah! Hah!’

Everyone is very amused by this quip by the margravine.

‘It’s very broad-minded of Lady Horsta to have an inferni and this rogue in her party,’ observes the Margrave of Eastwick to his friends, as though I am not present.

‘I suppose that’s the nature of questing. One must make allowances.’ The margravine looks me up and down and up again. ‘You have a surprisingly pleasant face. I have always thought the poor to be rather ugly on the whole. And, really, I’m surprised you were invited to the ball. Still, any companion of Lady Horsta is most welcome. Don’t worry if you are ignorant of the dances, just stick to the corners and people will make allowance for the occasional bump. We don’t stand on ceremony in Dunshandan.’

Belle gives my arm a squeeze and I appreciate the gesture of solidarity. We are from the streets of Crumblin, from a community which is socially the very opposite of this assembly of nobles. And they are keen to let us know our place.

It seems as though the margravine will make further comments about me, her eyes are full of mirth as her mouth opens. Fortunately, though, from the stage at the far end of the hall, the musicians set about a tune and the floor quickly clears as we all move to the side. Then the bolder dancers re-enter and jewel-clad couples waltz gracefully across the polished floor.

‘Come on, Crow. Excuse us.’ And despite my reluctance, I allow Belle to pull my arm, until we too are a rotating and sliding couple. Step. Step. Step-step-step. It’s not difficult to establish the basics of the dance. Soon I forget the faces, forget the condescension of the borderland nobles, and am enjoying myself. Left hand holding Belle’s; right hand at her back. Step. Step. Step-step-step.

There is no doubt that with her high skill in Dancing, Belle is far and away more accomplished than anyone else here. Lithe, fluent, daring, she spins and stretches with increasing confidence as she comes to appreciate that I can play my part. I may not be able to match her extraordinary sensuality and subtle motions but I can keep time and position for her to move around me without fear of mishap. Ahh, Belle of the flashing eyes; Belle of the triumphant smiles; Belle with the grace of a zephyr. I consider myself fortunate to be here, dancing to the lively notes of the stringed instruments. No wonder she was paid to dance at the necromancer’s castle. It is a joy to watch her and even more of a joy to be the recipient of her smile as she enters into the flow of the music.

I love Belle and am more aware of that feeling than I have ever been. My body is light. My blood runs with the elixir of eternal youth. There is nowhere I’d rather be than in his hall, in this movement, dancing in harmony with Belle.

Only when the musicians take a break do I realise that Belle has astounded this provincial town. Everyone is looking at her, some faces displaying lust, some envy, but most show awe.

There is almost a stampede of people desiring to talk to her and I allow myself to be pushed aside. At least, until the music starts again, when out of the parting crowd comes the young woman of the moment, hand outstretched towards mine.

Once more we dance and once more the world reduces to the sounds of violin and cello and the skilful motions of my beloved Belle.

Only when the music stops and the jostling resumes do I return to my usual alert senses.

Satisfied with the evening and pleased with me, Belle shakes off the attentions of the nobles and we leave. We have a boat to join early in the morning after all.

On the way out, I pause only to remove the margravine’s pearl necklace and drop it unnoticed in her husband’s boot.

A crow in the wild is nearly as confident as a crow in the city. My skills allow me to spy the animals we wish to eat, to creep upon them, and also to cook them once killed. Admittedly, the others are well able to live off the land too. When I pointed out a deer to her, Lisandra was able to kill and partially cook it with her Flare spell.

Over the five days it takes to reach the river that forms the border between Trolland and the Arkine Empire, I gain six skill increases. The first two skill ups are both in Meditation, and if I refrained from skipping and dancing in the aftermath of receiving the success messages, it was an impressive display of restraint, because the results from this were better than I had hoped. The increase in my mana pool was 3 from the first skill up in Meditation and 5 from the second. So I now have 13 mana points and can Blinkstep twice in succession.

Next, much as I had wanted to unlock Doppelganger, I knew that my most important skill, the true source of my delight in being a rogue was Stealth. It was Stealth that I had next made my AFK skill and only after capping it at 15 did I swap to Disguise, my current AFK choice.

‘There, I told you!’ When I reach the paladin who is standing at the crest of a steep hill, Lady Horsta points towards a cluster of wooden buildings beside a wide, dark river. ‘Cerridford. It’s actually a ferry not a ford. The good people there will be glad to give us rooms for the night and take us across in the morning.’

She sets off, moving from boulder to boulder with large steps.

‘Wait,’ says the inferni and for a moment I have the foolish notion he is being considerate of Lisandra, who, finding the climb hard, has altered herself into the figure of a dwarf and is patiently plodding up the hill, leading the pony behind her. Of course, the assassin has no such concern.

‘What?’ Lady Horsta has stopped.

‘If you were the Arkine Emperor and you were attacking Trolland, wouldn’t you secure the crossings of the River Evrotes?’

‘You have a point,’ the paladin squats so that a rock shields her from the view of the buildings.

‘Rogue,’ Amaris glares at me with his always-fierce red eyes, ‘go investigate.’

‘For such commands to be heard, I need to hear the magic word.’

Beside me Belle laughs.

Amaris’s scowl deepens. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Crow means, ask nicely, say “please”.’ Belle puts her hands on her hips and holds the assassin’s gaze.

I do not need a potion of telepathy to know that Amaris would rather tear my head off than speak to me more politely.

A seagull, far inland, cries as it circles above the river. A light breeze brings the scent of clover. At last the inferni spits out the word, ‘please.’

One day I will unlock a skill that will allow me to fly. It is unheard of for a rogue, yet I am no ordinary rogue. It would be a joy to swoop down to the village, arms stretched wide. Still, there’s another kind of joy in activating my Stealth skill and using the landscape to mask my movements. At 15 I am nearly undetectable. Supposing a guard below is attentively using their Spot Hidden skill to scour the land and their gaze crosses the area I am carefully navigating, then the chance of them spotting me is 50 per cent plus or minus 5 per point difference between our skills.

Most soldiers were Level 0. If a Level 1 or 2 soldier is on lookout, they would have had to have spent years improving their Spot Hidden skill to reach 5 and even that would not be enough to see me making my way towards them. The greatest danger to me is from magical detection or detection by a creature with high natural Spot Hidden skills, like a dragon. Neither are likely to be present here. All the same, my own caution and pride in how furtively I can move means I am not complacent, especially as I get nearer the first building, a cottage.

Well, I am surprised but Amaris might be right. A look through a cracked window shows a scene of destruction: broken furniture; shards of pottery; torn cloth. Immediately, I am even more alert, listening carefully. And just audible above the soft song of the river are voices. There are people speaking and laughing in the larger building beyond this one.

Carefulcrow finds a silent route to the sounds; a route that avoids direct line with any window. This is an inn and the main room is occupied by… I count… six Arkine soldiers. Four are at a table, where a grey-haired man is holding a deck of cards in one hand, while pointing to other cards, which are face up on the table. He is explaining something and the others are interested.

There is a woman at her own table, carving at a piece of wood with a small knife. Then there is a man at the bar, stacking tankards into a large pyramid.

I leave them and check the other buildings. Another cottage in a state of disarray. A warehouse with, by the musty scent coming from them, a dozen large sacks of some kind of grain. A toolshed. A wharf hut, empty. There is a large, wide boat tied to the wharf, lying between two ropes that stretch across to the far side of the river. The ropes make a curved shape on the dark water, not a line, the current dragging them some distance downstream. No other people are here. It’s possible a few more soldiers are upstairs in the bedrooms of the inn but I feel it time to report and hurry back to my party.

‘I told you,’ says Aramis after hearing me out.

‘What happened to the villagers?’ asks Lady Horsta. ‘Is there blood?’

‘Nothing on the floors; not that I saw.’

‘We have to assume there are more Arkine soldiers on the other side of the river,’ muses Lady Horsta aloud, ‘so killing these six and using the ferry is risky. If they see us coming and cut the ropes, we’ll drift fast downstream.’

‘Can we leave here? Go further south?’ asks Aarax.

‘There’s a town, Dunshandan, at the mouth of the river. It’s not likely the Arkines have taken it. They have walls there and a small garrison. But that’s another two days south.’

‘Crow?’ asks Belle.

‘While the days do matter so does success, to travel south to me seems best.’

Lisandra says, ‘I agree.’ And the others are nodding.

‘Another cold night though,’ Belle wraps her own arms around herself. It’s true, the nights are cold but I don’t mind them because Belle and I lie together for warmth near the campfire that we build. ‘I was looking forward to being indoors.’

It is an unhappy camp, therefore, that settles down to sleep. Made unhappier still by the cold, clear night and the fact our fire, though concealed on the far side of the hill, was smaller than we would have liked it to be, to avoid the risk of sparks flying up above the height of the hill. I am restless as a result, warm only when my front faces the fire and my back is against Belle. Before long, though, she wakes up and swaps, so that she gets the fire and then my back becomes too cold for sleep. I remember seeing clothes or blankets of some sort strewn on the cottage floor and decide to get them, whispering this to a sleepy Belle.

It is Aarax who is on watch, and to him too I explain my plan. Although he is uneasy, he accepts my reassurance that I will not be seen – there is a bright, quarter moon above but my approach to the cottage will be even safer in the dark than it was by day – and soon I am walking down the hill, already my feet feeling warmer from use. Approaching the ferry buildings, I wait for a while, noting that two of their soldiers are outside and diligently performing their guard duties. One guards the boat itself, standing alongside a brazier of lit coals on the wharf. The other walks to the inn, lantern swinging from his left hand, he turns around each corner of the inn, and then walks back to the river, where he exchanges a few words with his companion before resuming his patrol. Satisfied I will not be seen, I return to the damaged cottage, this time stepping inside the open door.

There are but two rooms to search and a sleeping platform under the thatched roof. Since the rooms don’t have a large enough covering for Belle and myself, except for a rug that will be too heavy to carry away, I ascend the wooden ladder and by the silver light of the moon see a very welcome pile of blankets. My low-light vision has always been excellent. My hearing too. So when I see a slight motion among the blankets and hear a scurried sound I know someone is there, among them. Someone small.

‘Hello,’ I whisper, ‘don’t be afraid; I am not one of the soldiers come to raid.’

Nothing.

‘You can hide, that’s fine by me. I just need to take a blanket or three.’

There’s a fine, woollen blanket within reach and I start to pull it quietly towards me, when a young girl sits up with a fierce expression made more ferocious by the shadows of the night. Although her voice is kept low, it is full of anger. ‘Leave that! That’s my mam’s.’

I drop it. We look at each other.

‘Who are you?’ she whispers at last.

‘My name is Crow, I tell you true; and with what name shall I call you?’

‘I’m Evote. You don’t sound like you are from nearby. Why are you here?’

‘I travel with Lady Horsta moving as fast as we can, to reach the town of Dunshandan.’

‘Lady Horsta!’ Her eyes move past me, as though looking for the paladin. ‘Are you lying?’

‘It is she who is lying, at a camp nearby; it is cold and I thought blankets to descry.’

‘Why do you speak like that?’

‘My mind and words do not unite, unless by rhyme I make them right.’

‘I’m hungry. Do you have any food?’

Do I? Some dried, baked venison in a pouch. Very tough, unfortunately. All the same, I search the pouch with my fingers and throw a lump of meat to her. There’s an eagerness in her movement and an expression of intense concentration on her face as she chews that tells me she has not eaten for some time.

‘Where are your family? Did they all have to flee?’

‘They must have. I was off looking at the swan’s nest when the soldiers came. I shouldn’t have been. Mam always warns me about them. Says they will attack me. The swans, not the soldiers. But I was there and that’s around the bend of the river. When I came back, my family were gone and the soldiers were here. What do you think? Where are they?’

‘I never had a family, but I imagine that they wouldn’t leave me. They are probably near and in the wild, hoping to catch sight of their child.’

‘That’s right. I was searching for them all day but they weren’t in my brother’s den. Or anywhere else I could think of. And it got dark and cold, so I came here.’

I know my mission is important and I know that the others will not be happy, especially the inferni, but I can’t help my next words.

‘Come with me Evote, you must get out of danger; I will be your friend, even though I am a stranger.’

I am preparing my next words, when to my surprise and relief she does not object and I can let all sentences fall away from my mind. ‘I would love to meet Lady Horsta. My brother will be jealous. She’s his favourite hero.’

The girl had been sleeping in her coat, so it is only a matter of putting on her boots and pushing a straw doll deep into a pocket and she is ready to leave. Although she is trying to be quiet, the noises of planks scuffed and the groaning of the rungs of the ladder (even though I show her how to put her feet at the edges, not the middle) are far too loud for my comfort.

Once outside, I whisper, ‘Please climb on to my shoulders; then we will be silent as we move through the boulders.’

Again, Evote shows no reluctance at all, and deftly uses my bended knee to push herself up. With a girl on my shoulders, my penalty to Stealth will be high, perhaps even 15 or more. So I wait, listening, until I am confident that the roving guard is on the far side of the inn. Then I move steadily away towards safety for us both.

‘Is that you Crow?’ Aarax is still on watch. I have not been long.

‘Not just Crow; to Evote please say hello.’

I tap the girl on the knee and bend, to indicate that she should swing down.

‘Hello Evote, I’m Aarax.’

‘Hello. Is that Lady Horsta?’ Evote sounds disappointed as she looks towards the fire. Admittedly, after five day’s travel in the same clothes and with little more than the occasional stream to wash in, our paladin does look bedraggled in the red glow of a fading fire.

‘This is she, the champion you wished to see.’

‘Can I wake her?’

‘I’m awake.’ Lady Horsta sits up and stares across at us. Everyone, it seems, was unable to sleep in the cold, for they are all soon sitting up, curious, or, in the case of Amaris, angry.

‘Are you going to save us from the Arkine soldiers?’ asks Evote.

‘Indirectly.’ The paladin runs her hands through her short hair, hair that appears silver in the moonlight. ‘I’m undertaking the epic quest to obtain the help of the dragons.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘Years.’

‘Years? But what will I do while I wait for you to finish?’

‘We will take you to Dunshandan,’ declares the paladin.

Lisandra leans towards the girl, pats the ground vaguely, and adds, ‘You can ride the pony.’

Even this appealing offer does not console the girl. ‘But Dunshandan is huge. My family, they will never find me there.’

‘They might,’ says the paladin. ‘We will leave you at the Church of the Thunder God. It’s the obvious place for them to go to when looking for you.’

Making an admirable effort to keep back tears, Evote shakes her head. ‘They are here somewhere nearby, watching. Waiting for the soldiers to go.’

‘I see,’ the paladin has a musing tone. ‘In that case, Amaris might be able to help find them. He has a Spot Hidden of three.’ This is announced as though a great achievement. Which it was by normal standards.

‘Help?’ says the assassin scornfully. ‘What concern of ours is this child? You think we are the only ones undertaking the epic quest? Of course not. We must hurry. We can’t spend time looking for her family.’

‘What are you? An inferni? Aren’t they evil?’ Evote looks at Lady Horsta.

‘Hah, hah. Yes, they are. But one needs allies to complete the quest. And, indeed, to help defeat our new enemies, the Arkine Empire. The end result justifies the compromises one has to make along the way.’

‘Do you drink blood?’ the girl asks. By way of answer, Amaris bares his fangs and licks his lips. Evote appears to be more curious than she is intimidated.

‘All those willing to spend a day – no more - looking for Evote’s family, please say “aye”.’

Aarax, Belle and Lisandra speak out.

Belle looks at me, surprised. ‘Crow?’

‘I believe the task can be completed soon; look carefully at the ripples across the moon.’

To my eyes, birdlike, attentive, and with a Spot Hidden of four, there is something wrong with the way that the moon is twinkling like a star, rather than being a steady, pale light. I am not certain but it seems to me that nearby, hidden from view, a fire is sending up waves of heat and smoke that would be invisible in the night, except where it comes between me and the bright light of the moon.

Only Aramis is able to see the same effect. He grunts. Everyone else, including Evote, peers upwards without understanding what I mean. It will be easier to explain by action than words so I get up and taking a bearing against a prominent fir tree – in case I lose sight of the twinkling effect – I walk off from our camp.

After ten minutes of careful walking in the darkness, I appreciate that this might take longer than I had thought. Another ten brings me up a slight rise and there, on the far side, about five metres below me, against a wall of stone, is the orange lite of a fire. Closer, I can see two adults and two children. I have succeeded!

When I step in to the orange light, I squat down, trying to reduce the fear they must feel. ‘Hello, my name is Crow. I have come from the camp of Lady Horsta, who has rescued your daughter. Please come back with me, if Evote you would like to see.’

It is not easy for me to talk to this startled family but the fact that I know Evote’s name serves to win them over. Despite my suggesting otherwise, they pack their bed rolls and bags and I try not to be impatient. The others, Belle above all, will be worried for me. At last, I can lead them back to our fire to cries of amazement and approval.

The moment that the mother clasps her arms around Evote is a joyful one that makes me very glad that the cold had been so intense as to send me in search of a blanket. We would otherwise have left for Dunshandan with the dawn and, unknowing, left the girl lost to her family.

I never knew my mother. It would be a moment of very deep happiness to have a mother enfold me in her arms and cry tears of joy on finding me again after I had been in danger. Much as I loved Mistress Withen and Master Cathaldus, their concern for me was less intense than that which is being shown before me now. Belle has tears in her eyes too. And even the paladin is affected.

‘Well done Crow. You know, for a rogue-necromancer you are a surprisingly good person.’

We are walking eastwards, away from Trolland towards the Arkine empire, the night sky distinctly lighter ahead of us. Dawn is not too far off and the birds know it; there are sufficient trees and bushes here to house a loud community of my avian brethren and they delight in finding themselves awake at the start of a new day. I delight in the same feelings. Free as the birds. Free to sing. Free to explore this wide world. Free to save my city.

Yet there is one more deed for the daring crow to accomplish before we hide in one of the gulches nearby. We need a horse for Lisandra. That, or travel at a slow rate. I do not complain, Lisandra I admire greatly. Large is her mind as well as her body, so is her concern for us all. That’s her nature as much as mine is that of a crow. Leaving Amaris to guide the others to a suitable hiding place – his Spot Hidden is 3, Belle’s only 1 – I turn back for the camp. Even animal minds are readable to my magic potion, although lacking language I gain only a nebulous impression of their thoughts, like dreams. The emotions I detect are surprisingly strong and many of the horses feel joy that the sun will soon be upon them again, warming their bodies. Since I have the Animal Friend skill (yet another skill I wish to level up for situations like this), I can urge a horse to accompany me without difficulty, especially because I have chosen a mare who is keen to leave the dust and constraints of the army herd.

I am well clear of the less-well guarded east of the camp by the time the sky has begun to rapidly change, purple spreading above me like spilled paint, and behind it waves of mauve and deep blue. Hurrying the mare along, I know I am close to where I left the party, but I cannot see them and the mind-reading potion has worn off. Where are they?

‘Crow!’ I hear Belle. ‘This way.’

Surprisingly close, where a dry stream bed lies behind a small, rocky hillock, is a gully deep enough to screen everyone. It will hide the mare too. I join the others as the sky becomes bright enough to see their smiling, welcoming faces. The paladin is especially approving.

‘Excellent work, my young rogue. Not only did you get us out of the cage, you managed to acquire some weapons too.’ Lady Horsta goes to pick up Gerard’s longsword. Our Shadowknight puts his hand out.

‘That one’s mine, as the devil said to the dead tax collector.’

‘Ahh, but my shortsword skill is only one. Really, as allies, we should plan as a group. What’s your longsword skill?’

‘One,’ Gerard answers with noticeable reluctance.

‘Mine is six. My greatsword skill is seven, but until we can purchase one doesn’t it make sense that I borrow yours? Just until we get to a town?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Before your plans go far, can you use a scimitar?’ I ask the paladin, uncovering the beautiful blade I had stolen from the large tent. By the morning light I can see there are gems in the hilt and gold in the cross guard.

‘Unfortunately not; this is a masterwork, magical even.’

‘I can use it,’ says Aarax. ‘I’m only skill one, but Wield Scimitar was a class skill when I became a druid.’ I hand the blade to him and the young man looks very pleased.

‘Well now, this, surprisingly, is the dagger that was stolen from me at the Trolland farm,’ says the assassin, picking the weapon out of a bag. ‘I’m glad to have it back. You should lend me a shortsword too. I’m a two-weapon fighter.’

‘What are your skills?’ asks Belle.

‘Four in shortsword and dagger, three in two-weapon fighting.’

Mine – and Belle’s – are just one. I shrug. The inferni can borrow my shortsword. And I keep my face as unamused as I can when I meet his eyes. We both know I stole that vicious dagger.

‘Not judging anyone,’ says the paladin with a light laugh, ‘after all, I did consider hanging you all, but if my holy symbol happens to be in these bags I’d very much appreciate it back. My Lay on Hands and powers against the undead are weaker without it.’

Why does everyone look at me? Why because I am the rascal who stole the silver lightning bolt from the paladin’s room. I know which bag it is in and throw the necklace over to Lady Horsta, who catches it and holds the symbol up to the morning light, where it twinkles as it turns back and forth. ‘Well, I never thought to have this again.’

‘What is in here?’ Lisandra has one of the bags of potion bottles, which clinks as she raises it.

‘In revenge for the Arkine general putting us in chains, I brought away items he will never see again. In that bag you’ll potions find and in the other more potions and scrolls to unwind.’

‘Crow, how does a street urchin from Crumblin become such an accomplished thief!’ Lisandra is admiring and I appreciate the enthusiasm in her voice.

‘Oh, I think Crumblin is exactly the kind of place to teach rogues their trade,’ says Belle with a smile.

‘Healing. Very useful,’ Lisandra has inhaled the scent from a bottle and must have recognised it. ‘Here, there are six… wait, five more in this bag. I suggest two each for those most likely to fight and one for myself, Aarax, and Belle.’

Aarax nods, with an expression of good will. Looking pleased and with several approving glances directed towards me, everyone takes a potion or two.

‘Now, these scrolls, let’s see. Oh! My spell book!’

Despite the effort of getting to her feet, Lisandra is beaming as she comes over and clasps me tight. ‘Crow,’ is all she says, but if ever a word was full of admiration it was that one.

Only after she releases me and settled down again can I find out what is in the scrolls, when Lisandra peels one off and starts to read aloud.

‘Do not neglect your guard; you must be intensely on your guard! Let the scholars tell the oracles to you, whether good or bad; Asa will go before you! Blah, blah, blah.’ Our sorceress drops the scroll to the ground. ‘I have sent two eunuchs of mine with six soldiers and a sealed order for the deserters… blah, blah, blah.’

The next three she doesn’t even start to read for us before discarding them. The last, however, she looks at with obvious interest. Her eyebrows arch, her mouth moves silently. She is the centre of our attention.

‘It’s a spell. And a good one. Curseblade. When I – or Gerard if he gains a few levels – cast it on a weapon, for fifteen minutes that weapon will be magical, with plus three to the wielder’s skill and the bleed effect. Every wound will keep dealing damage until staunched by a heal spell of some sort. No bandage will stop the flow.’

The inferni grunts approvingly.

‘What now?’ asks Belle, looking at me.

Lady Horsta, however, seems to think that she is in charge. ‘We just have to be patient. If I were Count Basillos I’d keep the army marching towards Callondum rather than waste time looking for escaped prisoners.’

‘I hope you’re right, but just in case, let’s keep a watch as we wait,’ I say.

‘Obviously.’ Lady Horsta folds her arms. ‘Why don’t you take first watch, Amaris, since you have the best Spot Hidden.’

I do not correct her, only find a patch of sunlight earth and stretch out. I am tired but content.

Between dreams, I keep an ear on the distant sounds of the Arkine army, the clang of metal, the cries of the herders. And I even feel the tremors in the ground as they move. It’s true then, they are leaving? I wake up and carefully – the day is bright now – creep up to the top of the gully, using Stealth to ensure I do not reveal myself to any searching soldiers. Belle is on watch and I lie beside her. Deep brown, affectionate eyes turn to mine.

‘It’s hard to see for the dust,’ she says, ‘but I think they are leaving.’

As we wait together, the marching troops do indeed grow more faint in sound and the vibrations diminish. I’m happy to wait alongside Belle as the dust settles, which it does not do until the sun is nearly overhead. As the sky above the former camp clears, it becomes evident they have indeed marched off west. There is an X-shaped construction about two metres high left behind.

‘Do you see? What can that be?’ I ask Belle.

‘An execution?’ she wonders. ‘There’s a person on it.’

I can make out the colour of the clothes. There is a red bandana I recognise. Our unfortunate jailer has been punished for our escape.