Stathis ran, barely avoiding a heavy javelin that flew past her, embedding itself into a tree and vibrating from the impact. A fighter, lightly armoured and heavily tattooed, charged at her, forcing her to sidestep to avoid the attack, bashing back with her shield to knock him back. She glanced up to see Semari jumping between the trees, having scampered upwards as soon as the ambush started, plucking an arrow from the air and tossing it back at the attacker. Parth and Janaxia had both been lost in the initial chaos, but were hopefully managing, or at least had managed to make their own escape.

The fighter attacked again, checking her momentum and forcing her to back off, giving time for her pursuers to catch up, an arrow ricocheting off her armour. A net fell from above, distracting her further as she had to slice upwards through it, blade not sharp enough as the ropes snagged her blade and pulled it downwards, forcing her to to discard it. One of the warriors charged, earning a gauntleted fist to the face for his troubles, blood streaming down his face. Without time to grab her weapon, Stathis had to fight with just fists and shield, finding herself quickly overwhelmed, backed up against a tree. The one she’d punched in the face stepped forward, although not close enough to be attacked again.

‘You have entered the lands of the Okramila. Surrender, and submit to judgement, or you will be killed where you stand.’ The others shook their spears and clubs, a few at the back readying arrows and javelins. She looked around, hoping for a way out, even as Semari jumped down next to her, bleeding from several wounds. They stood back to back, ready to fight.

‘Any sign of the others?’

‘Nope. Parth might be hiding, but Janaxia’s probably gotten grabbed. She’s pretty crap when people get close.’

One of the attackers lunged, Stathis blocking as Semari shattered the shaft, the warrior themselves unfortunately not within range. She whispered to Semari. ‘Keep an eye out for Parth, she might be out there.’ She raised her hands. ‘We surrender.’

All things considered, they were fairly well treated – their hands bound with rope (Semari immediately twisting free, and having to be told by Stathis to at least pretend to be tied up), they were led through the dense forest, managing to keep up on the paths, Stathis having to avoid stumbling over tree roots and other impediments.

Eventually, they came to a village in the forest, protected by wooden fortifications, studded with giant thorns, a few decorated with the skulls of dead monsters. The inhabitants looked at them warily, although offered no harm. In the centre of the place was a dilapidated hulk of a building, ancient, stone piled atop stone into something that was basically an artificial cave, the outside covered with a thin layer of weeds and growth. Against the old, worn stone, an array of statues stood out, each one finely carved, an array of humanoids of different species, most with expressions of fear or surprise, a few looking angry or even frozen in mid-swing. So, some kind of petrifying monster, most likely. A basilisk, maybe, or some kind of earth spirit? She glanced around, hoping that Parth had managed to escape.

They were bought to the entrance of the heap of stone, where (of course) the statues were clustered most thickly. A few of the statues had fallen over, seeming to have petrified mid-movement, turning to try and run away from whatever creature they kept here. Could dragons petrify people? Although most dragons were vain enough to want a bigger audience than some ramshackle village out in the sticks, and the exit didn’t look large enough. Inevitably, there was a prison, a small, stone chamber just outside, with a sturdy door. After being disarmed of their side weapons, they were politely, but firmly, escorted inside, and the door slammed shut behind them.

The chamber was bare stone, and sturdy enough that escape would be problematic. Janaxia was waiting for them, looking only a little ruffled, considering the circumstances, looking quite at ease, despite the circumstances.

‘Well, looks like we’re relying on Parth then. Janaxia, you find anything out?’

‘They spoke of a sacrifice being needed, and of being glad of outsiders passing through. I would suspect whatever creature lives in the ruins needs sustenance, and has some ability to turn people to stone.’

‘OK. It needs sacrifice, so some demon or something maybe? Anything you recognise?’

‘Why would I know about such things? Demons are scarcely the sort of people with whom I associate! They are rather unpleasant company, what with the inherent evil and so forth. Rather tiresome, if nothing else.’

It didn’t seem worth the trouble to point out that Janaxia was inextricably entwined with an entity of ancient, unknowable evil herself, and would probably start to burn if she entered holy ground. Would a demon even bother trying to corrupt her?

‘OK, so there’s too many to fight, so we have to wait for Parth, or try to negotiate. Or hope that whatever they’ve got in there is something we can fight. Hopefully it’s just a stone-snake or something, weak enough that we can deal with it. Without a weapon, there’s not much I can do, so I’ll have to leave the fighting to you two.’

Semari, despite looking battered and bruised, punched the air a few times, eager for a rematch. Janaxia looked less enthusiastic, but at least went through the motions, raising a hand and making it glow with mystical energy, a ominous throbbing immediately starting in the back of Stathis’ head.

‘Right, so we don’t start anything until we have to. If we’re lucky, they’ll drop us into the dungeon, and we can fight our way out. If not, this is going to get messy, but we’ll do what we can. Janaxia, if you’ve got anything that can target an area, this would be a good time to use it. Just don’t catch us!’

‘I make no promises. If you’re going to get close to enemies, I can scarcely avoid some level of collateral damage, can I?’

Stathis wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about being referred to as ‘collateral damage’, but at least they had some semblance of a plan, vague though it was.

Later, as the sun was dropping from view and the shadows lengthening, sounds came from outside, a steady, rhythmic drumming. Outside, a group was gathering, an eerie gathering with half those attending living, standing amongst the statues. A figure emerged from the darkness, their form swathed in soft white robes, with no visible skin. Gods, not more undead, maybe a wight? They looked too weighty to be a skeleton, and were moving with obvious control and purpose. Their movement disturbed the dirt they walked over, so not a wraith or something else awkward to fight due to not having a damn body. Just outside the entrance, some kind of tent was being made, of thin fabric, that made anything behind into silhouettes.

As twilight was falling, the sun dropping beneath the trees, the set-up seemed to be complete. A large group of warriors came to escort them from their prison, keeping them under close watch, even as they were marched to the very front, within close view of whatever was going to come out.

With only firelight, the surrounding woods became impenetrable darkness, something that would make escape even harder. Stood next to them at the front of the crowd were the leaders – Stathis was next to some sort of tribal leader or priest, at least to judge by his age and fancier clothing, heavily ornamented with gold and silver. He nodded and smiled at them, without open hostility.

‘Normally, we’d be more friendly, but the time of sacrifice is upon us, and better that someone from outside the tribe is taken. Unpleasant, but I’m sure you understand?’

‘I don’t suppose you could reconsider?’

He shook his head. ‘Sorry. It’s easier this way. And it’s probably painless – see, none of the statues look pained.’

It had been worth a try, at least. ‘Are you sure we can’t work out a ransom or something?’

‘Quite impossible. A sacrifice is needed. Don’t worry, there’s a good chance one of your allies will be chosen instead. And whoever isn’t chosen, is free to go. Well, in the morning, of course - it would be unhospitable of us to throw you out into the night, there are monsters about.’

It was hard to raise protest in the face of such indefatigable friendliness, and one in three odds of death were not the worst she’d faced. Although hopefully the creature had a taste for dark hair – Janaxia was useful, but there were other wizards willing to hire on, and they were actually wizards, and not whatever-in-the-hells she was. The drumming intensified, joined by a low, ominous, hissing chant from the crowd, the warriors joining in. A fire flared into life behind the sheet, stark black shadows of two figures appearing. One had a loose and shapeless silhouette, the other was clearly feminine, with a well-defined, curving, figure, long hair obscuring the shape of their shoulders.

The shapeless figure stepped through a slit, revealing itself to be the individual from earlier, still wrapped in their long twists of fabric. They raised a hand, the drumming coming to a brief climax, before slicing it down, making the drumming come to a sudden stop.

‘The moon is full, the pact is complete for another year. As the Serpent Queen guards your tribe, so must you provide for her.’

On cue, the figure behind the curtain moved, their hair twitching and moving, separating into dozens of strands, each moving independently, a hiss that could be heard across the clearing. A murmur of piety went through the crowd, as some fell to their knees in prayer. Next to her, Janaxia went stiff, eyes widening. Now what, did she have some past trauma with a medusa? This was hard enough as is, without someone becoming useless.

‘While she has guarded your people, she has needs that must be attended to. Is there anyone that volunteers as tribute?’

Stathis tried to make herself look as inconspicuous as possible. Next to her, Janaxia thrust her hand into the air. This went un-noticed by the announcer, who carried on speaking, apparently working through a well-worn script.

‘As no tribute has volunteered themselves from the tribe, then a sacrifice must come from outsiders. Three such have come into the sacred lands. Unless one volunteers, then the others must…’

Janaxia was now vigorously waving her hand in the air, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes wide. ‘I volunteer as tribute! Please?’

The announcer paused, apparently unsure how to proceed in the light of such enthusiasm. Stathis took a step to the side, just in case of any misidentification, even as Janaxia strode forward.

‘You would volunteer? To surrender yourself to the embrace of the Serpent Queen, knowing the fate that awaits you? Such nobility and sacrifice! Then approach your final passion.’

As Janaxia stepped forward again, Stathis grabbed her shoulder. ‘You sure about this? I mean, thanks for sacrificing yourself, but we could dice for it or something.’

Janaxia looked slightly dazed, biting her lip and glancing away. ‘I, um, I think this is something that I need to do.’

Gods, the woman was crazy. But, at least this time, in a useful way. ‘I have no idea what the hell is going through your mind, but you do you, and whatever creepy, weird things you apparently enjoy. If you could, try not to die? It’ll be useful to have you around for whatever other weird crap we have to get through after this.’

Janaxia reached into a pouch and pulled out some herb, quickly crushing it beneath her fingers and rubbing it into her eyes, before pushing past Stathis and walking towards the shadowy figure of the medusa, hair hissing away. Stathis turned to the chief, seeking clarification. ‘We get through now, right? Even if she gets turned into a statue?’

He nodded. ‘By the pact, the Queen needs but one partner a year, in exchange for protecting us.’

‘Right. Very good.’

Janaxia had reached the curtain, pausing for a moment, before the announcer took her hand and guided her through, taking a moment to pull a fold of fabric over their own eyes. The medusa approached Janaxia, embracing her, hair-tendrils lunging forward, as Janaxia gave a low cry, before their heads brushed together in a kiss. The crowd went silent, Janaxia’s throaty moans stroking the night air, changing from what might potentially be sounds of distress to something rather more obvious passionate, between rather noisy kissing and gasping.

As everyone looked on in, Stathis tapped the chieftain on the shoulder again. ‘Uh, I don’t suppose we could get some food or something? Those two are likely to be at it for a while, and I’ve not eaten all day. And I’d quite like my gear back as well.’

The crowd was starting to look awkward as the noises continued, the silhouettes now merging into one, limbs occasionally emerging from the dark, shifting blob. The attendant re-emerged, shouting even louder to be heard over the noise from behind them.

‘The sacrifice is complete! Now the feasting may commence!’

Everyone cheered, trying to drown out the competing noises, as food was bought out from the nearby huts. Their guards relaxed, allowing them to mingle, Stathis quickly finding a seat, facing away from the increasingly enthusiastic coupling happening behind her, as the attendant went and extinguished the fire, so at least it couldn’t be seen, even as the sounds continued.

The revelry continued, everyone speaking loudly, trying to ignore the increasingly loud and passionate cries coming from Janaxia, along with the weirdly hissing cries of presumably ecstasy from the Serpent Queen. Presumably she didn’t normally get much chance to indulge herself, at least before her partners turned to stone.

Stathis slowly awoke the next morning, head ringing from too much indulgence. Gods, did the sun have to be so bright? Sitting up, she peeled a leaf off of her face, having just slept on the floor. The rest of the village were in similar positions, the sacrifice apparently being a festival night for everyone. She stumbled over to the well, drawing herself some water, pulling some bread off a load left over from last night.

Some whistling drew her attention – Janaxia was sat atop the steps leading to the ancient building, a sheet wrapped around her body, combing her hair, looking like something from the more risqué classical paintings. Her body was covered with bite-marks, countless tiny pricks against her skin, a few lines of dried blood still present, expression of dazed bliss on her face. On her lap was another figure, head wrapped in a sheet, although a few stray hair-snakes poked out, apparently dozing. Every so often, between brushes, Janaxia leant down to softly kiss the sleeping medusa.

Stathis left them to it, not wanting to risk turning to stone. Medusas were intelligent, and sometimes even showed up in cities, heavily veiled so as not to accidentally kill everyone in sight, but seemed a decidedly odd choice of paramour, even for one of Janaxia’s rather odd tastes. Snakes? That had to be uncomfortable, never mind the biting!

As the villagers roused themselves, the chieftain approached Stathis, returning her weapons. He even arranged for a pair of horses, to speed them on their way, apparently in thanks for Janaxia’s services. No gold, but the extra speed would be appreciated. After some time, Janaxia even deigned to join them, her robes in an artful state of disarray, that would do honour to a princess in her boudoir. Her bites and scratches were still unhealed, a few even breaking open as she moved, fresh trickles of blood curving down her body.

She looked at the horses with a look of distaste. ‘Must we ride? It seems likely to be uncomfortable. I am rather, ah, tender at this precise moment.’

Stathis looked at her, trying to think of appropriate words, as Janaxia continued. ‘Kalmaris was very friendly, and with all those tongues, I got curious. While it was pleasurable, it does mean that I am a touch sensitive in certain parts.’

‘That is not something I ever wanted to even remotely think about. Gods, how in heaven did you even think of that? Actually, never mind.’ She reached and touched her, letting healing energy flood through her, watching as some of the wounds and scratches healed up. Now to find wherever the hell Parth had managed to hide, and desperately try to keep the image of a medusa and Janaxia indulging in decidedly unusual practices out of her head. As they rode away, a cloth-wrapped figure waved them goodbye, Janaxia waving back, the villagers all looking away in religious awe.