A disturbance. No, a pressure, which he tried to ignore without success.

Perhaps they have begun their assault, trying to catch him unawares. His mind stirred the hibernating husk of his body, nudging function back into limbs and torso, awakening senses. So slow, then his fingers responded, hope. How long did he have? Unknown. A panicked urgency gripped him.

He drew the favour of Death Season in; faint and tenuous. The pollution of new life occasionally contaminating the flow reminding him Birth Season loomed large and promised doom. Sight returned to his eyes tracing the glorious dark thread, an undeath line of salvation.

Foolishness! His tomb now breached; how else could flecks of life reach him. A coffin is sealed against light and life while resting. Secret and now pressing freedom but a slim crack in the stone of his tomb. He willed his body into a mist, the transformation slow, an agony as motes of life need to be expelled. An explanation also for his poor recovery, still frail. Thankfully the ribbon of darkness guides him, although he needs to reign in an unnatural eagerness as his gaseous form floods the slim hope to break away. Immediately plans for freeing his Master and plotting revenge dominated his thoughts.

Shortly after, his escape is waylaid, attracted away from the dark path. No, he willed himself, withdrawing, tugging at his gaseous form … freedom lies in the dark.

A holy kiss.

The Light of Judge burns through his weakened form, an unusual pointed metal object buried in the stone, an incredible force smashing the now blunted weapon against all protest into the stone, creating a hairline crack and creating the trap. In a wink his existence ceases.

His hibernating Master unaware of his demise, and those he manipulated and extorted in the City none the wiser still living in fear. Their future a torture, forever wondering when he would return.

---

Lysisa continued her daily routine of assisting the Goblin Sisters by removing the stone they sculptured out of the Stone Curtain Wall, only to see the stone piles shrink, taken by the twin sisters and used to build the stone rooms or cabins in the Inner Cavern. During Lysisa’s evening shift the arduous training of Latona and Jocasta continued, both insisting to stay most of Lysisa’s shift, resting and drinking water, between practicing forms, sparing and observing Lysisa practice.

Both contributions worthwhile and hence satisfying for now. She took the middle of day meal with the Goblin Sisters and before her shift start, basked in the fear circle while critiquing Latona and Jocasta’s Warrior forms as they practiced. Different sisters would visit to condition themselves, although none with the confidence to sit against the stone wall of the tombs, which allowed Lysisa to wallow in a fake self-exile. The visiting sisters pitied her, including the non-Seers, the story of the fallen Single Seer common knowledge.

The first load of the next morning different though. Dragging the stone ladened wagon into the Inner Cavern, Thais and Alexa waited for her, no pretence, both perching casually upon a low stack of stone blocks. Lysisa searched her memory, trying to find a reason and in the end mentally shrugging while approaching them, her eyes darting from one twin, to the other, waiting for them to speak. Their hands free of stone dust informing Lysisa the Stone Cabin of yesterday still waited, she apparently more important.

“Mistress has noticed your dedication and while you would have walked a different path we have suggested, and Mistress has agreed that we should gift you these Items,” said Thais.

Her steely green eyes widen, joy filling her heart. No circles though …

“This blue gem recovered from the Mage you tracked down with Zoe.” Thais dropped the gem into Lysisa’s outstretched hand. “We can sense magic in it, otherwise closed off.”

Lysisa eyed the gem, speechless, barely remembering the close-cut black hair twin, Thais.

Alexa smiled. “The other blue gem we can offer acquired from the evil who attacked the House with his friends. In appearance, shape, size and cut a duplicate of the first, no residual magic and perhaps with both in your possession you can discover their purpose.”

Lysisa accepted the second from the long black haired twin, the gem joining the first in the palm of her hand wanting to scream in excitement and then the next Items appeared, their uniqueness apparent in an instant.

Alexa extracted the paired Items from the bag behind her and shuffled them in her hands. The Watcher the last to implant the Items and this choice igniting a heated discussion with her twin, due to their length and dangerous origin. Alexa eyed the almost salivating Sister, rolling the gems around in the palm of one hand, the other hand, fingers curling and uncurling waiting. Perhaps a warning appropriate. “These two silver strips liberated from a very strong evil who we dubbed the Watcher. She hid amongst many within the City, extremely evil and yet well camouflage, responsible for training the Assassin Seers …”

Lysisa’s eyes rose from the Items while she swallowed and stared at Alexa. “The Items you gift me, inherited from evil beings and your voice betrays your reluctance or warning of danger.”

Thais shifted to enclose Lysisa’s empty hand for a moment. “All our Items have the same origin, more or less. These though we admit from stronger and more troublesome evil to slay yet destroy them we did.”

Alexa added, “The evil unable to utilise them to our knowledge, they tend to carry more as their affinity for evil increased though.”

“I am not sure you have eased my worry and yet …” Lysisa looked from Alexa to Thais in turn. “I don’t care,” declared Lysisa, hand outstretched.

Alexa lowered the Items until grasped and taken, her eyes closing for a moment. “They are paired and as you see, large and we suspect not absorbed without pain.”

Lysisa opened her mouth, swiftly closed, pain a small price and still, she didn’t care. Gifted Items, even if unusual welcomed and the thing which mattered most, approved by Mistress Astera, an acknowledgement of her efforts. Perhaps her self-exile could be ended, the meaning of the Items beyond the obvious; trust and acceptance.

Alexa drew her hands together, resting them upon her lap. Whatever would be, will be. “We advise you to absorb your gifts in the morning sunlight.”

The twins glanced at the silver strips, half the length of a forearm and two finger widths wide. With handles and perhaps reinforcement they would make excellent blades of some sort.

Lysisa bobbed her head, yelled thanks and with the empty wagon in tow, bolted to the Cave Entrance, racing past a stunned Latona slowing upon entering the Cavern Blind and releasing the wagon to roll free and bump into a wall. The Initiate threw off her armour and clothes ignoring the stares of the Goblin Sisters and their smirking, possibly thinking their human gone mad or crazy or both.

Climbing the narrow stone stairwell two steps at a time a naked flash hurried to the sunlight. Once atop the Stone Curtain Wall Lysisa quickly wrapped both Blue Gems to her belly button and wound a silver strip to each shin. While the length didn’t prohibit placement within her forearm, Lysisa preferred the longer lower leg and a slim chance of additional protection. The twins mentioned the attuning process, contact and try to shift each Item to ensure a proper bonding and wait until middle of the day.

---

Another mind, just at the limit of his senses, he could expend some of his magic, but he may need all his reserves to succeed when a better opportunity presented. As he decided upon this plan the third mind ventured closer. Gentle enquiry, strong mind and … single, certainly single. An excitement occupied her consciousness to the exclusion of all interference or control and for the moment his attempts to discover more, rejected. Patience he schooled himself, wait until they slept and enter their mind upon a dream. The duality of reality and imagination could create confusion between each while asleep, usually enough to gain control, the struggle for possession and eventual ownership following soon after, wonderful. Although, another female, would that matter?

In contact with her flesh, what a chance! The elation though, overflowing within his target, an almost blinding uplift in spirit and confidence; she could prove difficult to master while engorged with joy. Also, given his distraction the obvious occurred; now unable to contact the other magic surrounding him, his gem separated from the pack. A pity, although drained by him. His hope, they would slowly regenerate and if in contact again enable him to drain them again.

Time unmeasurable passed.

A shock, an assault upon his mind, the unnatural fear oppressive paralysing his will, how long could he endure? His mind crawled into the absolute centre of his gem, withdrawing himself from the ‘outside’. The fear whispered to him even there, no escape and for a second time he felt his water escape even though he didn’t have a physical body. Then in an instant the fear released him.

His stored magic destroyed, utterly gone, not some, all. Did pissing himself expend his magic? Without magic to cast his mind afar, a lonely blindness crowded about him the boundaries of his gem now impenetrable walls. Recovery from his condition indeterminate, magic required to waken his “sight” and ambient magic thin, wistful … he screamed in abject silence.

Time unmeasurable passed.

Magic rammed into his consciousness, blinding and energising. His gem first, the overflow into his mind shortly after. Impossible! The depth or reservoir within the gem he believed unfillable, until now. Excitement, joy, such power at his disposal. What could he do, who could he conquer! The girl who carried him a poor choice, the two … yes of course, twins! Seer Twins. The magic continued to flow, no, flood in and a stupor infected his mind. Magic drunk? Such a ‘thing’ possible, his last thought before unconsciousness.

His mind awoke as if struck by lightning, his magic draining away. How? His mind, impotent, unable to grasp his joy, the promise of power and freedom slipping away. Gathering his will, he latched onto the stream, his touch brief, ownership firmly transferred to another. The impotent girl? How? Once again trapped within his gem, powerless, unable to send his consciousness ‘beyond’.

Distraught, he reached for the memory of a singular joy; the receiving of two more magic items and running deliriously to the old gate of Hillperch, pausing to open his hand and greedily savour them and imagine the possibilities. With reverence the two treasures carefully found their place in a secret interior coat pocket, patting them to finalise their safekeeping. A heartbeat after … no … unhappy … stop … the memory ignored his plea and continued to roll on. An extremely swift, sharp pointed arrow pierce his throat, the initial slicing painless. Then the struggle began. His hand around the shaft, red gore slippery, unable to free the arrowhead from the Gate. His mouth sucking in air accompanied by his own traitress blood trying to drown him, gurgling breath splattering tongue and mouth red, the coppery taste sickening. Then darkness. After an unknown time, he replayed the memory to satisfy a real human need, to feel. The dark interior of the gem offering an inert nothingness.

---

Lysisa, although isolated in her self-imposed exile learnt much from Jocasta. The girl offering her perceptions about people, Sisters and the urchins, followed up by the certain observations. The gems for example, absorption under sunlight, typically behind the belly button until comfortable and the attuning could begin. The knot binding her wrapping upon her hip, a simple pull of the bow to untie and inspect progress. After three bells of indirect morning sunlight both gems quarter descended into her flesh. Satisfied, Lysisa removed the binding allowing the middle of day sunlight to shine directly upon them. The progress of the silver strips lacklustre. After three bells, no descent, able to pick them away from her flesh at the edges and presumably the entire length, although resisting to pick them away deciding instead to cast aside the binding. Remembering Sweetears and her efforts to ensure sunlight directly struck the location of her Item she actively did the same.

The Mage’s gem first, tucked behind her bellybutton at depth, an index finger pressing down to locate and roll upon the Item. Concentrating, Lysisa discovered the gem receptive to her will, the contained magic welcoming her claim. Unexpected. She imagined the gem elsewhere, pushing slightly right, the corded muscle resisting and the rounded shape of the gem visible under her skin causing no pain. The more Lysisa pushed the gem about the easier the gem bent to her will until they became one. Attuned. With a flick of mental directing, the gem returned to her bellybutton, magic within exhausted.

The Watcher’s gem next. The effort minimal and expenditure of magic a token amount compared to the Mage’s gem, a mystery ignored by a celebrating Lysisa, believing previous practice the reason. With an unreserved confidence Lysisa’s mind reached out to the silver strips. The skin-silver contact enough and yet no progress. The entire surface area unable to sink directly or slip sideways into her flesh. Lysisa chewed her bottom lip. The right leg strip responded to her will, the long edge slipping lengthwise into her flesh. She clenched her teeth, resisting the need to scream as beads of sweat popped out across her forehead.

“You have gifts?” asked Sweetears.

Lysisa’s face relaxed. “Yes, although the last are … painful.” Her hands waving over her shins.

Sweetears squatted beside Lysisa, ensuring her shadow out of harms way. Inspecting both legs, her eyes intense, a hand resisting the temptation to touch, although gliding over the wound sight.

“Imagine arrow point, or spear point, not sword blade?”

Lysisa cursed her stupidity. Lead with the narrow edge, the reason the strips needed to be absorbed into an arm or a leg. Her hand rested briefly upon Sweetears’ bent knee and her eyes blinked slowly as Lysisa mouthed a thank-you. She concentrated on the right leg strip, dipping the leading edge into her flesh. The initial pain intense, her hand returned to Sweetears’ knee for support. Once through the skin, the displaced flesh more forgiving, similar to the gems, although unable to wrap behind and refill the movement wake.

Sweetears stretched out beside her human, sliding the human’s needy hand along her thigh, until reaching a conveniently naked hip. Her exposed breast positioned to receive a dose of sunlight, the original reason for her appearance atop the Stone Curtain Wall.

Lysisa’s grip tightened in reaction to the pain from the left leg strip, Sweetears’ sigh of pleasure unheard. The Goblin Sister edged closer, her body nestling in tight and close, lifting Lysisa’s head slightly to position her arm flesh underneath as a pillow as they both took in the sun. Lysisa’s eyes closed, concentrating alternatively on each silver strip blissfully unaware although comfortable, able to relax to ease the absorption, a delightful smile breaking across her face. Sweetears interpreting the reaction of her beautiful one as an invitation. The Goblin Sister wholeheartedly accepting.

When done, Lysisa slept. The incisions in both of her legs marked by a thin line of congealed blood. Sweetears binding both locations and then lying back in bliss, intent on observing the rise and fall of the chest of her beautiful one.

At dusk Sweetears welcomed Lysisa’s awakening with a huge smile, her breathing purring, relishing the intimate contact of the stretching body beside her.

“Welcome Sweetears my sister!” the joy in Lysisa’s voice plain to hear and not wasted on Sweetears. Gloriously an arm extended across Sweetears, brushing her breast, flicking her aroused stiff nipple sending a shiver of pleasure deep into her being, a warmth spreading across her face, needing to bite her lip to suppress her sigh.

In ignorance Lysisa toyed with her Items, relocating her gems behind her bellybutton, painlessly. The silver strips settled in place and while receptive, Lysisa cautious, satisfied when they shifted slightly, the pain bearable. All Items acknowledging her ownership and the magic within available to answer her call. A happiness spread from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

The rasping touch familiar, a single finger exploring the flesh about her bellybutton. Lysisa opened her eyes, waking from her celebration, Sweetears’ face a couple of finger widths away focused down, their eyes meeting, a panting breath now audible and warming Lysisa’s wine stained cheek.

Sweetears’ face one of complete bliss, her hand now exploring Lysisa’s lower torso. Lysisa opened her mouth to speak. Sweetears expected more, closing her eyes briefly rolling her body away, carefully extracting her arm from underneath Lysisa’s neck and once free, fleeing naked. Her smock abandoned, lying beside Lysisa still warm to touch as Lysisa regretted her inability to speak, to try and explain impossible feelings. Instead, she shyly slid the warm smock over her naked body to complement her internal warmth, hands placed upon a pounding heart, uncertain what to do with the heat emanating from her loins, eventually sobbing herself to sleep and forgetting her duty.

---

Nysa slumped against the window sideways, her shoulder under the windowsill and neck craned to allow her to observe the estate grounds, especially the well. She worked her jaw, trying to coax some moisture into her mouth, failing.

“Here.”

Her head flopped in the direction of the familiar voice; a lip cracked smile greeted the owner. The cup shook in the outstretched hand, which Nysa gladly accepted and took a sip.

“Our last.”

Nysa nodded, savouring every drop as she sipped again and again until finished, placing the cup on the floor. Kyra sidled up close and they kissed. The worse ever, lips cracked and rough, the best ever, passion strong and agreeing to hold on to their hope.

“Zosime and Zoe have woken.”

Nysa nodded. “While I admire their foolhardiness, he will replace what they have destroyed last night, tonight. They continue to pick at the house while we weaken.”

Kyra lent her head upon Nysa’s shoulder. “Dione is talking about breaking out and riding, her Stallion weakening without water and the sight of that magnificent horse slowly dying grieves us all.”

“She has been quiet these passed few days and perhaps concern over her Stallion the cause,” said Nysa.

“Dione mumbles, awake or asleep, soft incoherent words of comfort, we can only assume to her Stallion, there is no other with her she loves as deeply …”

Nysa playfully tapped Kyra’s thigh, the closest body part without needing to move.

Kyra opened her mouth wide. “What?”

Nysa stared out the window, the sun almost set. She reached out with her faith, the four groups of evil around the house gone, destroyed by Zosime and Zoe. Further afield, another group in a dilapidated stable, two groups in separated sheds, small, only partial walls remaining and another group slightly further away in a rundown cottage. Nysa correlated her memory of the farm buildings over the locations of the evil. Another group still further away again, to the South, the evil in this group shone bright, although one glowed above all others. Certainly, the Dark Priest. Certainly, within reach she thought although very few of her Sisters would return if they decided to attack him, which is why she didn’t mention his exact presence to any of her Sisters. This final group moved away and like previous nights would return before morning with replacements.

Kyra waited for Nysa to return to her. A calmness cradled Kyra when Nysa exercised her faith, she didn’t know what for or how, only when. This moment lasted the longest and while her eyes tried to weep for joy, they could only muster a dry redness.

“Tell all the Sisters to rest tonight, conserve their energy, at dawn we will escape or die in the attempt.”

Kyra stared at the Judge Knight, jaw set with a hint of sadness lingering in her eyes.

“Do we have a plan?”

Nysa and Kyra looked in the direction of the voice. Zoe leaning against the doorframe. The door lost long ago.

“Sit, before you fall,” offered Nysa.

Zoe yawned. “Answer my question.”

“Yes, tell everyone to pack, although only the essentials and there will be no deeds of bravery tonight all will sleep. I will be there shortly.”

Zoe nodded and pushed herself off the frame to slowly return to the main dining room and their camp.

“Even tired she maintains her stealth …” whispered Kyra.

+++

The dawn light caressed Nysa awake, opening her eyes, all the Sisters rested soundly. She reached out with her faith and four groups of evil gathered at the corners of the house, four large groups remained where they always waited. The Dark Priest, Nysa assumed returned. She would need to return to her window to confirm, which she didn’t, time for the Daughters of the Duchess to take the initiative.

Nysa and Kyra searched the piled-up furniture on the stairwell to find what they needed. Neither had the strength to swing their swords and joked how a blessed spear would be handy right now and then devised a makeshift alternative.

With the Dark Priest to the South, Nysa chose the doorless doorway to the North to exit from, which required moving away the furniture, although not all. Dione saddled her Stallion, his trip down the stairs, while tired and weakened almost ending in tragedy from several missteps, or mis-hooves? Nysa shrugged unable to decide between the two.

Zoe braced an upright table on one edge of the doorway, Alexis did the same on the other edge. These would funnel the Walking Dead towards another table, lying sideways, Nysa and Kyra holding position, their swords resting upon the table edge poking outwards. Not quite spears set against charge, although Nysa hopeful the Walking Dead would run themselves through while her and Kyra guided as required.

At Nysa’s signal, Zosime, bottom on the edge of the table swung her legs over and took several steps outside. Nysa smiled. The groups picking at the House didn’t react. The four other groups did, heading directly for Zosime, although one, if they didn’t veer left or right would try to shuffle through the House. Nysa tapped Kyra.

“Return Zosime,” called Kyra.

Zosime, after a slight hesitation, her face screwing up, swung back over the barricade and stood behind the Judge Knights, daggers and throwing stars prepared.

“Who pinned the bloody cloth to the table?” she asked.

Nysa and Kyra traded baffled looks.

“I did, I thought they needed an incentive to stay true and straight!” shouted Zoe as the impending din of the Walking Dead arriving built up. Crowded shuffling and many carried weapons, which clashed as they homed in upon the doorway.

The Judge Knights swords over a half a man long, the table edge chest height and the Walking Dead focused on a bloodied cloth at knee level. The combination destructive requiring little effort. The victory added a much-needed energy to the Sisters, along with hope.

Zoe removed the bloodied cloth, her Sisters aghast. “Blood is blood,” her response.

Zoe held her hand out to Alexis. “Did you save them?”

Alexis brusquely nodded, a slight red to her cheeks, producing a broken bucket full of bloodied cloth. Zoe tore the bloody cloth into strips with her hands, drawing more disgusted looks from her sisters, she shrugged.

“We need at least three markers to ensure they follow long enough to lose enough time to give us a good chance.”

Nysa searched with her faith, four groups around the house, no others. “Zosime and Kyra draw water from the well, fill the water trough and our waterskins.”

Dione waited, chewing her fingernails, absently patting her horse. Nysa gazed upon the proud beast, a deep animal cunning lay behind the Stallion’s brown eyes and an indomitable spirit. Dione wrapped her arm around the Stallion’s neck and immediately returned to her old self, certain and confident. Nysa braced for a debate.

Zoe unrolled and rerolled three bedrolls, handing each to Dione who tied them to her Stallion’s saddle and led her Stallion outside or possibly her Stallion urged Dione outside, difficult to say thought Nysa, thankful Dione still followed. The Stallion lapped up the water at a steady pace and stopped without being dragged away. Dione taking her fill and a waterskin, soon in the saddle, her bottom nesting into the familiar.

Nysa, watchful, shared a look with Dione. “You certain you wish to ride out and set the false trail?”

“My stallion and I are the only ones who can, so stop questioning a gift horse.”

Placing the bloodied bucket by the doorway, Zoe hugged Alexis. “Your timely bleeding still yields benefit.”

Alexis’ face glowed red, while Zoe smiled and ushered her out of the House to join their Sisters gathered around the well. Satisfying their thirst as well.

“We follow Dione out of the Estate and then take to the trail. Dione dropping a bloodied bedroll past the trail and hopefully drawing the Dark Priest and his servants,” said Nysa, receiving murmurs of agreement.

Zoe added, “The Estate has a low stone wall which travels parallel to the trail, we will as far as we can walk along the top of it. Once upon the trail though, single file, try to step in your Sisters footfalls. I will do my best following behind to clear our tracks, although the damp soil won’t help.”

“How will I know where you are, to join you?” asked Dione.

Nysa patted the Stallion’s neck, looking up. “I don’t think you can. Our only hope is for you to ride to the Lonely Keep and if possible, arrange a patrol to come looking for us.”

“What if I can’t convince the Baron,” retorted Dione.

Zosime joined Nysa. “Reach the Inn, Alexis and I rested well last night, the water this morning and finally some sunlight on our Items, Rhea should be able to contact us.”

Dione nodded and her Stallion walked towards the Estate gate taking a circular path to avoid the groups still chipping away at the house. Her five Sisters following one behind the other.

Zoe noted the hard-packed soil of the Estate proper yielded vague footprints, although the Stallion’s hoof prints clear enough. Crossing the trail, the ground churned previously although the cold of Death Season lingered leaving definite foot impressions.

“Follow Dione a little ways Sisters, although keep single file and walk by the wall,” Zoe instructed.

The fallow land past the trail cold hardened firm, the Stallion’s hooves barely noticeable.

“Halt in your tracks Sisters, walk backwards in your footfalls as best you can until you reach the wall and then try to climb up without disturbing or scuffing the ground.”

Once her Sisters retreated, Dione started to throw away collections of goods, spare weapons, pots and pans and also the first bloodied bedroll, trying to give the impression the Sisters realised they needed to leave many things behind if there were to escape and covering the ‘end’ of their following footfalls if any discernible.

Zoe following last, the first up onto the wall, each step carefully placed until far enough along to wait for her sisters. Zosime and Alexis should be accomplished at wall walking thought Zoe given their assassin skills. Nysa and Kyra the concern.

While slow going they made a fair distance, the next farm before Kyra fell, fortunately the field side of the wall. Kyra climbed back up and the five Sisters continued until middle of the day. The two-story farmhouse on the Estate still visible when standing on the wall making Nysa nervous, plus the concentration and effort required starting to show.

Nysa called to Zoe. “Time for haste Sister, do you agree?”

Zoe checked her Sisters faces, all pleading, judged the distance covered and nodded.

“Walk up to my position, sit and lightly climb down onto the trail. We will jog in line trying to follow in each other’s footsteps as best we can.”

She didn’t really know how the Walking Dead tracked the living and if by sight she intended to make the task as confusing as possible. She felt though, given the Walking Dead weren’t alive, they would sense, perhaps smell for life and blood the only sure sign of life she knew other than a beating heart. Zoe bet everything on Dione setting up a false blood trail and the Dark Priest not following until night. A little snow fall would be useful, although they awoke to a clear blue for as far as the eye could see. The biggest worry, their passage along the wall noticeable to her under the light of day, would the Dark Priest see the same with his vision during the night?

Dione dropped a clean bedroll next, not far from the first. Further along the bloodied rag would be shaken out of a bedroll and buried poorly under rocks. The bedroll open and abandoned close by. Obviously, the female unable to prevent leakage due to heavy bleeding. The final drop consisted of the last bloodied bedroll and the other two ordinary bedrolls, with cooking goods, mostly from the house to set a scene of panic, the Sisters fleeing upon hearing or seeing the approach of the Dark Priest and his Walking Dead. If the Dark Priest discovered them gone at dusk and picked up the blood trail, Dione needed to time the last discovery just before dawn. After following the Dark Priest for days, she felt confident about the distance he typically covered during a night. Given the bedrolls held a straight-line West they hoped he would order his Walking Dead to hold the same line during the day while he hid from the sun and if so their escape all but guaranteed as no one could backtrack such a large lead they convinced themselves.

Dione’s stomach growled; jealous she couldn’t eat the green new growth grasses her Stallion found. Rider and Stallion continued to trot West for a bell and once satisfied, turned sharply North heading towards the mountains which could be clearly seen on the cold bright Death Season afternoon. Both revelling in the open rolling plains they conquered with each galloping stride her Stallion’s recovery invigorating Dione. As dusk approached Dione decided she needed to turn East, she needed to find her Sisters. Continuing North she would eventually find the trail to the Lonely Keep and be able to follow until arriving at the Inn of the Scarred Lady and then wait for instructions. Wait. The word didn’t sit well with her, they all knew the Baron wouldn’t risk any soldiers on a rescue. Plus, she needed to suffer with her Sisters, the alternative, sitting in front of a warm fire with a full belly; not appropriate for a future Mistress. Dione didn’t need to pull on the reins, her stallion knew her, receiving his agreement. They turned towards the forest, the setting Western sun behind them, their new mission, to find and rescue their Warrior Sisters.

---

Many things happened at once to Lysisa, none of which she exercised any control over. Her back ached, sleeping on stone all night atop the Stone Curtain Wall will tend to do that. The extreme cold penetrated deep; flesh, muscle and bone, although a mysterious warming began. Shin bones, two, the incredible pain from both snapped her awake, although the shaking of her entire body a close second. Trying to command her eyes open became a contest, a foreign will fought for control, trying to overcome her mind. With a grunt, she obeyed a command to open her eyes. No not hers, another. A voice she recognised.

Again, ‘open your eyes’ a shout this time. Her mind untrusted, this voice though she recognised and knew held only the best intentions. Eyes opened and Sweetears met them with a glowing relief. Before she spoke Lysisa willed the paired silver strips to stop, stay within the flesh, release from the bone. In an instant the pain ceased, the loss of the distraction helping her mind regain control.

Sweetears’ eyes intense, scrutinising every facial nuance and tick of the face held between her hands. Her eyes darting back to greet the opening of the face’s steely green eyes and overwhelmed with relief; drew the face to her bosom.

As Lysisa gulped for breath from between Sweetears breasts she only realised then Sweetears straddled her, the source of her warmth and a reminder of a certain heat. A whisper from within urged Lysisa to take the girl, her loins wet for you; she is yours. Lysisa inwardly smiled, her mind completely hers, clamping down, denying the salacious voice any right to free speech.

Sweetears didn’t know, she just didn’t know. After a futile search and asking other Sisters Sweetears found her pretty, asleep where they parted company. Sweetears spied upon her pretty for at least a half a bell, wondering, trying to decide to be brave and ask her heart’s desire if … just if? Could they be one, no longer Goblin and Human, simply two who wished for more. At first her pretty’s head tossed from side to side and shortly after the entire body wriggled and flopped about threatening to roll away, in between yelps of agony.

First one step and then another, Sweetears dashed across the distance separating them, throwing her leg over and straddling her pretty across the hips. Safe loving hands then captured her pretty’s head while an anxious voice told her to wake up. Now awake, her face buried in Sweetears breasts, the Goblin Sister decided to take a chance, even if rejected she would be able to remember this moment.

Before Sweetears could make a move, Lysisa rolled her off easily while unprepared, deep in other thoughts and decisions. Then her pretty kissed her; again, and again, Sweetears becoming so excited she bit her pretty’s lip. The Goblin way. As she tasted her pretty’s blood her pretty withdrew, eyes wide, sucking on the injured lip. She wasn’t Goblin, Sweetears cursed herself; she knew how humans did sexing. The Goblin Sisters witness to many such lessons. Not one with biting, stupid Sweetears. Then a pain brought her back to reality. Her lip stung and bled.

Pained eyes stared at Sweetears. “… incredibly painful, so I return it once to let your Sisters know we are one, but no more.”

Sweetears nodded slowly. Forgiven for her mistake by her pretty. Forgiveness, not the Goblin way, mistakes punished, Sweetears liked this new way.

Lysisa being on top made no difference, exercising her abdominal muscles Sweetears forced herself into a sitting position and embraced her pretty one in tears, relief and comfort. She didn’t think in her wildest dreams the pretty one would return her affection, her … love.

The magic of the silver strips swirled about the happy couple unbidden, released by their sharing of blood.

Lysisa never knew such an absolute love.

---

The darkness surrounded him, impotent, although he did sense his possible power, the magic briefly within his mind’s grasp beyond his imagination, perhaps equal to the magic wielded in ages past. Then a new sensation, familiar and yet different.

Another.

And again.

He prepared.

And again; he drew, no he stole magic during the contact, his gem briefly in contact with another. The contact almost rhythmic, predictable and he patiently accumulated magic, took his fill and with discipline stopped before any overflow, reasoning the girl somehow detected the overflow previously.

Freedom. His consciousness carefully reached ‘outside’; feather light touch, the girl first, who he quickly withdrew from, although he sensed another. A female and a surprise. Not human and yet almost human, how could such a being exist? He needed eyes to gaze upon this anomaly. His consciousness blindly fumbled around trying to determine his location. He expected his gem to be set in a piece of jewellery and yet he sensed his gem floating, no, actually implanted in flesh. His past life informed him of the difference.

Being embedded in flesh, another surprise. The evil one who rewarded him ripped the Items from his very flesh. His technique when alive different, worn as jewellery in near skin contact obliviously a debilitating mistake, handicapping his potential. He also needed to find out how the magic renewed so quickly and fully, the same requiring days of non-use when he lived. What of the practice of those about him now? His gem one among many held together, the occasional, irregular contact seemed to indicate a flexible container such as a bag, therefore held and given out according to some rules or authority. Which raised another question. So far only females, odd. Although not so odd for Seers of Saph. Could he now be in the possession of the Seers?

Now he came to it, did he have the courage to try, the strength of will to challenge the girl for her mind, her eyes? He explored, the second one now gone, his host confused, her emotions in turmoil and after a time she fell into a fitful sleep, vulnerable. His consciousness enveloped her mind and began his assault. The strength of her mind, even now defying him. He drew upon more magic capturing control of her five senses, cutting them off trying to induce panic and fear. Through her eyes he observed another arrive. A female, oddly human and yet some features, eye shape, slightly pointed ears and skin colour, exotic. This female pounced upon his host, straddling and yelling at her. Her mind and body responded requiring additional magic to quell.

His host didn’t panic. She simply ignored the discomfort and slowly isolated his gem, exercising her ownership. Losing control, he saved scraps of magic deep within his consciousness and as one last perversion told his host to take the exotic female. She ordered him to be silent, the instruction sent directly to his mind, raw and unforgiving, laced with revenging pain. He silently screamed.

---

The Dark Priest woke at dusk. His chosen bodyguards remained at attention and alert about him. Chipping sounds echoed across the estate, unexpected. With his bodyguards about him he visited the first rundown building to find his Walking Dead absent and if one group reacted, they all reacted, therefore his prey escaped, most likely in the morning. He needed to give more refined orders to his followers, for example, when they leave the farmhouse wake me.

Other than the above he planned for this moment. The stockpile of corpses before him, gathered over several nights, now at his disposal. A dormant stack of Walking Dead awaiting their creator to call upon them once again.

“Arise my minions, I call you to service!” The words unnecessary, only his will required to bind them back to his service nevertheless indulging in the dramatic.

The Dark Priest inspected the house and worshipped the bloodied bucket before following their tracks through the estate, the horse hooves being the most prominent. He commanded his creations to halt at the gate and while in some sense foolhardy, continued the inspection alone, his minions would obliterate any tracks they trampled over.

The tracks crossed the trail, very plain and obvious, although he paused to gaze along the trail wondering. He shortly discovered the pile of discarded things, almost anti-climactic until the bedroll caught his eye. Bound tight, the knot impossible for him to untie. Use of a knife solved the impasse. The sweet scent reached his nostrils before the eyes spied the blood red. His tongue confirmed a second virgin, her taste exquisite, his delirium all consuming. He ran into the night eager to catch his two prizes following the divots from the horse hooves despite the frozen ground.

Sweat. He hated sweat. Bent over gulping for air, alone, a shiver wiggled down his spine, a reminder his minions couldn’t protect him. He willed them to follow, nothing, too distant. Trudging back provided him time to consider and plan, still heady with her scent, although no longer consumed.

The trail represented the problem. South led to nowhere. East the Forest. West led to nowhere, except for the promise of virgins for him. North led to safety, the Lonely Keep. Would they travel West and then strike North to avoid the trail, the most obvious route?

His thoughts broken by a resounding thump, the house finally crashing making a noisy end to a failed trap. More Walking Dead, which he actually forgot about and being reminded clarified his plan.

He willed half his minions to follow the trail and slay all on or nearby. He considered sending one of his stronger minions to ensure the Walking Dead could be directed to account for tricks or changes and resisted the luxury. Either those on the trail would eventually catch his prey or more likely ambush them if after fleeing West they turned North. His true prize fled West and with his minions carrying him day and night while they fled on foot, he would see them run down in good time.

He spread the second bedroll he found on his platform, disappointed at the time and yet encouraged as the cast off spoke of panic and desperation … soon, very soon, two virgins would be his to grow his power further and with a single mental command his minions understood his will and they hastened to carry him forward.