The rain coming down was thick and heavy and horrible, blocking their view and making travel far slower than it should be, thick mud sucking at the horse’s hooves. Even Semari had given up and hopped onto the back of Stathis’ horse, her body doing something to help keep Stathis dry, although her arms were like iron bands around Stathis’ waist. Vrintar was surrounded by a haze of steam, using her battle-aura to shield herself somewhat from the drizzle, water hissing into a cloud as it fell around her, puddles hazing into mist.

Janaxia and Skotadi were a vague blur of darkness, both having called up cloaks so big and thick they were virtually tents, staying close together to shield each other from the rain.

‘We need to find some shelter!’ Stathis had to raise her voice to be heard, the rain so thick and loud it devoured all other sound. ‘There’s no use pressing on in this, it’s taking forever to get anywhere!’

Ahead of them was a single tree, bare of any leaves. Parth shimmered into existence on the branches, her form shrouded by her cloak. ‘Cover. Ahead.’ She pointed into the haze. ‘Close.’

‘Thanks, Parth! OK everyone, sounds like we’ve not got too much further to go, and then we can dry off a bit. And could you squeeze a little less tightly, Semari – it’s hard to breath.’ The iron grip relented slightly, letting Stathis breath more easily.

They plodded through the haze past some kind of pole, carved into shapes that Stathis couldn’t make out in the low light and rain, a strange and merged pile of different features. Parth remained ahead of them, guiding them towards something. A low orange haze could be seen, diffused firelight flicking in the mist. It was a large and mostly circular construction, the walls of stone blocks, daubed with swirling shapes and symbols. Stathis looked around cautiously – this might be a wizard’s dwelling or something?

The entrance was easy to find, a single gap in the construction, gates currently open. It looked like an entire walled compound, the whole thing covered under a single roof, with several buildings inside, the outer gate large enough to ride inside without dismounting.

It was nice being out of the rain and onto ground that wasn’t heavy and claggy with water. There were hitching posts, and Stathis tended to her horse, rubbing it down, keeping a cautious eye out for the inhabitants. Semari shook herself dry and looked around.

‘Bit eldritch, isn’t it? Not, like, full Janaxia eldritch, but similar.’

The internal walls were covered with neatly painted symbols, retaining their shape even in the damp air, formed into neat lines and columns, one wall covered in fabric banners and pennants. Stathis touched one – it felt like normal paint, rather than dried blood or anything spookier.

‘Hey, Janaxia, can you read this? What does it say?’

Janaxia dismounted, dismissing Mavrosa from existence as the horse whickered and moved to nuzzle at her. Despite the torrential rain, her heavy cloak had managed to keep the worst of the rain from her, so her hairstyle was still intact. ‘It appears to be various prayers and injunctions and wardings against the encroachment of evil. Some of them are rather prettily phrased, it must be said. I quite like this one.’ She pointed at a section that had a squared-off block of text, demarcated by a square red border. ‘Rather nicely phrased “Let the rosy blush of dawn stand warden against the chill of night, let the soft fingers of dawn ease the care of the wardens that stand against the dark.” Something of a tender sentiment, is it not?’

Behind her, Skotadi was looking slightly baffled. Semari crept up behind her and suddenly poked her in the cheek, a crackling sphere of darkness appearing as Skotadi protected herself on instinct. ‘Oww! Can you read this stuff as well?

Skotadi hissed and showed her fangs, her clothing rippling into more spiked, her hair twisting into coils and what could be seen of her shadow developing savage-looking spikes before she regained control. She seethed at Semari for a moment before glaring at her with a shadow of Janaxia’s hauteur before responding.

‘All language is within my gift! To read such a thing is trivial for one with my talents. I know the very words etched into the fabric of the world!’

‘Ooo, bet you were a nerd, taught by, like, loads of tutors and stuff.’ Skotadi’s hair and clothing bristled again.

‘I shall curse you, impudent wretch! You shall dwell in ancient darkness to regret your mistakes.’

Janaxia’s voice spoke over hers. ‘Now now, Skotadi. A noble should show forbearance to the afflicted. No matter quite how afflicted they are.’ She glared at Semari. ‘This one does have some occasional use. In setting off traps, mostly.’

Skotadi continued to seethe but managed to regain control of her clothing, her shadow returning to a normal shape as Janaxia spoke. ‘Skotadi is blessed as I am, with an instinctive command of language.’ Skotadi preened at the praise, giving a happy wriggle of her shoulders as Janaxia lightly patted her on the shoulder. ‘I would surmise that this place is some shrine, probably a memorial to some ancient battle rather than a specific deity. Some of the poetry is rather touching, although a lot is rather dull and martial, or excessively blood-thirsty.’ She flicked her fingers, a bolt of darkness streaking out, Semari just barely able to dodge in time.

Stathis stepped between the two of them, then drew Janaxia’s hood back up over her horns. ‘Don’t start fighting, you two! And I think it might be best to keep those horns hidden.’ The rain pattered off the roof above them as Stathis looked around – there should be an attendant or priest or something in charge, or at least a central sanctuary. ‘Is there anyone there? We’ve come seeking shelter from the rain.’

The pennants on the wall fluttered, the surface beneath them moving, revealing a door into the largest of the buildings within the compound. A young man stood there, wearing red leather armour, a snarling wolf painted onto the breastplate, a mace in his hand, shaggy black hair curling down from his head. Behind him, a fire burned, flickering light illuminating trophies of war, heavy metal cables spiralling around the internal space, weapons, shields and armour dangling down.

‘I bid you welcome.’ He made a surprisingly polished bow. ‘The shrine of the unbroken word bids you welcome. Although I can’t offer much other than onion soup.’

‘We’ve got some trail rations, if you want to share? We’re mostly just thankful for a roof.’

‘It’s a shitty night, yes.’ He smiled as he veered away from decorum. ‘Tie your horses up and enter. I have little I can offer, but you are welcome to it.’ He stepped aside, pulling the partially-concealed door fully open to let them enter.

Inside, it was a large, dome-shaped hall, a hole at the top letting out the smoke from the central fire, the spiralling metal ropes coiling downwards in a helical pattern, trophies of past wars dangling from the chains. Despite their age, most looked to be in good repair; armour was polished and clean, the weapons kept honed and ready for use. A sense of warmth and security settled over her, a spark of peace within her soul. And then a discordant, jarring sensation, the pervasive itching sense that something was wrong and broken, as Janaxia crossed the threshold.

Metal tinkled and stirred, the weapons shifting in an unfelt breeze. There were benches around the fire, a pot of soup bubbling away and making Stathis’ mouth water – it was basic, but far better than trail rations!

‘Please, sit yourself down. This is no night for travellers to be out on the road. I am Rojac, late of the Redwolf Company. Currently on a hermitage to destroy this.’ He held up a hand, where a fat golden ring was on his middle finger, the gemstone a large onyx stone, banded about with intricate glyphs. ‘Another three months within sacred ground should eliminate the curse and destroy it. In hindsight, I should have been more cautious about wearing unidentified rings.’

‘Well, curses do often draw people in.’

Janaxia sat down close by but kept a clearly deliberate distance. Skotadi crept in and settled herself in a corner, drawing her cloak about herself and fading from view. Was she invisible, or had she faded into some other realm? Semari started to get up and head in her direction, before Stathis pulled her back. ‘Let’s not do any experimentation, OK?’ She turned back to Rojac. ‘Well, curses do draw people in. I guess it must be potent enough that it can’t be dismissed by a priest?’

‘Sadly, yes. Although this place isn’t so bad – at least it’s comfortable.’ Pajaran broke out some of rations and began to cook them, making another pot of broth. ‘But there is something in the air of late. Something of old darkness and new fear. The relics here, they are from the old battles, against the great darkness – some are even from the Elven wars.’ He nodded at a slender blade, barely-visible leaves etched into the metal. It twisted around, swinging through the air and pointing towards Janaxia for a second, before swinging back down.

‘Seems to be a lot of that going around. But we’ve not seen anything ourselves. We’re on the road to Per Tolith.’

‘Ah, to join with the Iristari? They’re paying good prices for strong blades. And have enough support they’re good to work for. The rest of my company are there already, I’ll be joining them once this matter is dealt with.’ He held up the hand again, showing off the ring – the gemstone seemed to drink in the light, his hand in a shadow all its own.

‘What’s the news? We’ve come from Belazaan, so been out of touch for a while.’

‘Oh, much the same. The Iristari go to war against the Uth Tremari and their assorted hangers-on, nightcrawlers, shades and so forth. But for now, it is a thing of slow positioning and knives in the night, that has yet to escalate to battle. Although I doubt the Uth Tremari would fare well in the field. A shame about Knight Stathis – I hear she was being groomed for leadership and was travelling in order to see the world before tending to her duties.’

Janaxia stared at Stathis. ‘I wonder. She seemed to have a rather… flexible attitude towards the truth, quite unbecoming of one sworn to the knightly ideals. And was somewhat cold and cruel towards her allies.’

‘Oh, did you work with her? Never had the pleasure myself, but I heard she was a good leader. Had some weird people in her company though, and that Uth Tremari witch that killed her. Shame, really. She can’t have been as bad to work with as Carissa – that woman’s a menace! Far too keen with area attack spells.’ He shivered at the memory. ‘Once I’m down here, I might see you in Per Tolith?’

With her hood still up, eyes gleaming emerald in the depths of her hood, the shape made strange by her hidden horns, Janaxia cut a rather unsettling figure by herself, and so Stathis tried to draw attention away from her by dominating the conversation as much as possible.

‘Maybe. I’m not sure how long we’ll be around for.’

The smoke flowing upwards wavered strangely, something changing the airflows and make it stream about the enclosed space, a few droplets of rain falling down. Stathis waved her hand to push it away from her face, keeping an eye on the corner where Skotadi had curled up, wondering it she was still there or had transported herself elsewhere.

‘Seen much on the roads?’

‘I’ve been holed up here for the last two moons, to be honest. The usual dark tidings – how much is traveller’s tales, and how much is truth, I couldn’t say. Lady Carissia was burning a swathe through various enemies, but I think I’m quite some ways behind the latest news, I imagine you would know more than me.’

They chatted for a while longer, attempting to catch up, but neither of them seemed to know much, and Janaxia’s green-tinted glare was distracting. The blades hung about the place moved more than they should as well, metal tinkling and scraping against the suspending chains as though rousing from a fitful slumber, edges and tips pointing towards either Janaxia or the corner Skotadi had vanished from. Stathis experimentally touched a chain, finding it comfortably warm to the touch, like metal left in the sunlight.

Stathis scooped up a bowl, swilling it around then walking over to Janaxia and holding it out. Dark energy flickered around the bowl, the chiming of the swords making a soft metallic song as Janaxia lifted it from Stathis’ hand. ‘I thought you might be hungry.’

Hmph. Thank you.

‘Does Skotadi need anything? She’s sort of vanished.’ Stathis tweaked away a hanging axe that was slowly swinging back and forth, getting closer with every swing, twisting its chain back on itself to keep it still.

She is used to looking after herself. And unused to groups, poor thing. In time, she will get more used to such things, but she is still timid.

Stathis thought of the girl’s teeth and unnatural presence and tried to reconcile that with a description of “timid”, without success. ‘If you say so. Do you feel OK? You’re not always great on holy ground. And this place is filled with lots of very sharp things that I don’t think like you.’

Firelight flickered, letting Stathis see Janaxia’s face. She looked flushed, cheeks red, eyes vague and unfocused. Stathis reached out and touched her forehead – she wasn’t feverish, and squinted blearily at Stathis, although didn’t move away at the touch.

I do feel somewhat victimised, cast as a “wicked witch”. As I recall, you kissed me!

‘This really isn’t the time for discussing that! But if you sleep here, are you going to keep your clothing intact?’ The fringe of Janaxia’s cloak faded as though scorched, before the clothing regrew itself to cover the patch.

I believe I can keep myself clothed. The smoke billowed again, Janaxia head bobbing as though exhausted. I must confess to feeling a trifle drained though, I think I will rest rather than continue conversing.

That should at least keep the snippy comments to a minimum. ‘Sounds good.’ The blades tinkled again, all caught in a singular motion, as the firelight suddenly crazed itself behind Stathis. She heard something hit the ground, the blades suddenly all surging on their chains, the firepit extinguished, water splashing down.

A hissing, rasping voice sounded out. ‘Light in darkness, to be extinguished.’

She spun around and drew her sword as pain speared her shoulder, sharp spikes penetrating her skin. She could hear metal, striving to be free as the holy weapons surged forward. In the suddenly-dying embers and ashes and moonlight, she could see a humanoid figure, shape barbed and spiked, with barely enough time to react and block knife-sharp fingers with her sword. Whatever it was gripped the blade, hard enough to keep it in place, Stathis feeling it slide into skin.

‘The darkness shall consume you.’

She shook the blade free, feeling it slice through flesh again, the outline of the shape flowing and shifting more than just low light could account for. It stepped close and she tried to move away, to keep a gap large enough to swing her blade, but it was fast, and in the light she could barely see, her ankles bumping against something and forcing her to swing her blade in a protective arc that was easy to read and evade.

‘So weak! Wretched pawn of the light.’

She heard another sound as another of the things dropped down, a meaty crunch sound echoing about as another shadow, probably Semari, punched it, hard enough that the shadow visible deformed, before starting to heal. Metal shone as weapons appeared, the place turning into a general scrum.

The weapons hanging down were suddenly a threat, sharp edges barely visible. The off-side of a blade knocked against her shoulder as she hit it with enough force to send it moving away. She sidestepped, grabbing at Janaxia’s head and pushing down as an arm smashed through the darkness, a sharp edge slicing her flesh.

‘Stay down!’ She yanked at Janaxia and pulled the woman along, trying to speak quietly and ignoring her grunt of indignation. ‘I don’t want to find out what happens if the weapons in here get a taste for your blood.’

You are aware that… Stathis felt bony growths scrape against her hand, as Janaxia wriggled free. …I can see perfectly well in this? She moved away and was gone, vanished into the darkness, leaving Stathis to try and block another attack, her blade once more slicing and sliding through flesh, her attacker seemingly not caring. She could hear Vrintar grunt with effort, then pain, but there wasn’t much she could do as she tried to evade a swift succession of strikes – the thing was almost as fast as Semari, and she could barely see it!

A line of pain seared across her belly from an attack she couldn’t even see, driving her further back. She swung her sword again, the blade smashing against one of the chains, making the whole room sound out with the sound of vibrating metal.