“Don't like the look of that,” Dren muttered. The morning cries of harpies rose from above them, but his gaze was forward, not up. Harpies, Mirds and Sky-Dragons were the most common tree-top Evils found in the Plains, and the least bothersome. Others, like the Sky-Fish were rare, usually only one or two trees of the fifty-three dotting the planes. They saw nothing at all over the tree before them, and that was the problem. That implied nocturnal.

Redmun pulled his jacket tighter against the chilly morning breeze. “We could go south, but that would take, what, four days longer? Awkward tree arrangement 'round these parts.”

“We're already moving slower than the Walking Corruption,” Jessa said. She'd been sullen since Marwood's tale the night earlier, and hadn't drank at all. “Can't afford to waste more time.”

“Except I'm not taking my business into danger,” Dren said. “I think I saw lights at the tree behind us. Might be another group. If it's some idiots without a Possessor, least I can do is point them away from being slaughtered in the dark.”

Redmun scratched at his chin, thinking. The urge to get moving vibrated in his chest. How far ahead was Gelstadt already? Too far. “How about this: you stay here while Jessa and I scout things out. If we don't come back, you know it's clear. If we do, we'll wait for that other group and find another way together.”

“A fine idea,” Dren said. “We'll stay here 'till tomorrow morning, then.” That said, the man turned back towards the tree and made his way back down.

Jessa watched him go. “I don't think he likes us.”

Redmun set his back to the work of dragging the sled, moving at little slower than a sprint. It was lighter now, with some of their supplies eaten, and more abandoned as unneeded in the days ahead. His useless hand lay bound against his chest, still aching as much as the day it had left him. Maybe if the next tree was safe, and they were gone from Dren and the Liabirs, he could heal it. Though how much of the Light would he have to use to heal bones as well as flesh? Perhaps too much to try.

The boy, Lloyd, had seemed sad at the prospect of Jessa and Redmun's leaving, though he said nothing. In some ways, Redmun didn't want to go either, despite Dren's obvious suspicions. Spending those few days with the family had been pleasant, and quiet, like the previous few weeks hadn't been. That familial closeness was something Redmun had never experienced before, and he found himself appreciating it.

Redmun glanced at Jessa, walking beside him. They were already a mile or more gone from the tree, the sun approaching zenith behind the slow moving clouds. She seemed pensive, too, and he thought he knew why. The sudden change from distaste to enjoyment, the shared sadness at the Liabir's suffering. Good alcohol didn't explain those things. Perhaps memories of her family, of which she spoke very little, did. Either way, Redmun wasn't going to press her. But one thing still worried him.

Evil. He spoke the words, mouthing them silently.

Yes, Redmun?

You've been quiet. Why?

You seemed to be enjoying the company of your new friends, the Evil said. I did not want to impose, especially not so soon after our first success together.

That was a failure.

Must we do this, Redmun? The Evil asked, for the first time sounding weary. You are not the only one that tires of it.

Even that grated at Redmun's patience, but he couldn't argue. The peace from the thing's whisperings had been wonderful, and he wasn't exactly looking forward to breaking it sooner than needed.

The miles passed them by at their quickened pace. They had to move fast, in case they had to double back. Harpies hounded them from behind. Jessa kept her eye out, and together they fended off the scouting attacks. The feathered creatures came only in threes, some sort of relationship bond known only to them. If the beasts had males, Redmun couldn't tell the difference – they all had womanly curves and beautiful faces. If the things bred, he didn't want to know how.

The monotonous repetition of the Plains was becoming dull, the sight of grass sliding beneath his laboring a tiresome one. He wished for a smooth rise of the earth to please the eye, or a river to wade and struggle through. Anything but the constant breeze and utter, yet sharply broken flatness of that place. Even the suffocating humidity of the Wet Woods would be a welcome break from those winds.

The afternoon sun was at their backs by the time they reached the tree. Redmun abandoned the sled a distance away, and together the paced around the hulking thing, peering upwards, hoping. His legs burned with the effort of moving so quickly. The thought of doing the same journey again was not a happy one.

They moved so that the wind brought the sounds to them. The quiet but certain clacking of carapace-covered claws and legs. Hidraki, enormous insects that swarmed over the land at night, raiding other trees for food.

“Well fuck,” Jessa said, her body falling limp. “Back again, I suppose.”

Redmun sighed. A four days detour, and this one wasted scouting. A five day lead on top of whatever his Father already had. Five more days of letting the man suffer.

“Come on,” Jessa said, grabbing the rope from his hand. “I'll help pull.”

“Jessa, you're bleeding already. If we were smart, I'd probably have to pull you.”

Jessa smirked. “Since when have we ever been smart?”

The long shadow of the tree blocked their view of the setting sun. With Jessa helping, the journey back was easier, though that meant nothing to Redmun's already exhausted limbs. They maneuvered around the final plateau, and the base in the tree came into view.

There was a crowd. Redmun left the sled behind and together they stepped warily forward.

“Ah, uh, there they are!” Marwood appeared through the crowd, carrying a torch. “Please, Master Possessors, explain!”

“Marwood, what the hell are you doing?” Jessa said, rushing forward. She snatched the torch from him and stamped it onto the ground. The entire crowd turned towards them, watching. Redmun came forward cautiously, waiting to understand.

“No, don't!” Lloyd's voice called.

Dren appeared from the crowd, shoving people out of the way. He drew his blade. Those cynical eyes were set on Redmun.

“Dren?” Redmun asked, hands up. “What's wrong?”

“Whoa there, friend!” Marwood stepped in front of the rushing Possessor. “There's no need for-” Dren shoved Marwood to the ground with a single gesture and continued forward, his heavier leg dragging slightly. Jessa drew her own knife, and moved in front. “Hold on there, Adrian!” Dren continued on, now looking at Jessa, who stood firm before him “Stop!”

The force in Marwood's voice was shocking. Even Dren turned to glance at the man.

“I said, stop!” Marwood said, rushing up to the two of them. “There's no reason for this to get bloody.”

“Liars!” Dren roared. “The both of you!” The crowd was beginning to shift behind them, moving closer, and parting. “You'll tell me the truth, or I'll leave your heads to leak on the grass!”

“I'll tell you nothing until you put that blade away,” Jessa said in that cold tone of hers, blade gripped tight.

“Jessa, no,” Redmun said. He glanced to the sled, and the weapons that lay there, but decided to move forward instead. He raised his arms up, showing that he was unarmed. “There's no need for that. Dren, please calm down. Tell me what's wrong. Who are these people?”

Dren did nothing but glare. Marwood turned his head to speak, but kept a careful eye on the long steel before him. “They say they are from Lutmouth. They say that things happened… differently… than you did.”

From the crowd of onlookers a figure appeared in dirty white. Besides her tattered dress, and the cloth covering where her eyes had been, she wore nothing. Not even shoes. “Why did you lie?” She came forward, hands held tentatively before her. And she was looking right at him, head faced his way at all times. “Why do you lie to these people who you could save?”

“Cielaine…” Redmun's words failed him.

Oh. A gasp from the Evil.

“What are you doing here, bitch?” Jessa growled over Dren's shoulder. “I thought I told you to shut up.”

Cielaine's head turned a fraction in Jessa's direction, and nothing more. “Redmun, why?” She spoke with a slur, as if the words refused to form properly. As she came closer, Redmun saw that her jaw was askew. Jessa's work. “Can… can you not feel the light within you? I understand now that it is not you that carry the God's will, but what you carry within you. Your blessing. Can you not feel its glory?”

“Stay away from me.” The words came low from his throat. She did stop, and so did everyone else. In the crowd Redmun saw the priest, Wistac, the wound of his eye left open to the air. Celric, the man's nephew, at least wasn't amongst their number. Yet this was no small crowd, a good thirty people at least. All wandering stupidly across the plains without weapons, without proper food or water even, judging by their pitiful state. All following Ceilaine.

“You need to stop,” he whispered to Cielaine. His voice came pleading whether he wanted it to or not. “Please. Stop this.”

“Enough.” Dren's hand shot out. Jessa's head whipped back, her mouth spewing blood. She collapsed to the ground, rolling senselessly. Dren stepped over her, blade forward. “Are you an abomination or not?”

“No, Dren.” Redmun held his ground, let the blade rest against his neck. “I'm not an abomination.” He glanced to Cielaine. “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” Dren whispered, grimacing. “Enough.”

The blade drew back, and Redmun ducked. The air above him rang with its passing, and another swept past his side as he rolled away.

“Dren, stop!”

“Stop!” Marwood and his son called out at once.

Redmun got to his feet, backpedaling as Dren moved on him. Redmun would have to get past him to fetch a weapon now, thanks to that roll. “Dren, listen to me.” The man's face didn't even twitch, his eyes unblinking. “Stop!”

Dren lunged for a thrust. Redmun dodged past it, grabbing the man's wrist with his one remaining hand. He tried to pry away the man's fingers, but Dren's forehead collided with his own.

Redmun staggered back, vision fuzzy. He saw the vague shape of Dren, struggling, and as the blotches cleared, the people holding him back.

“Get off him!” Redmun stepped forward. An entire mob had surrounded the man, one already carrying away his sword. A few shoves sent the first ones flying, and Redmun came into help. Dren broke a few noses and twisted several arms, getting himself free. “Dren, please. They're insane! Whatever they told you is nonsense!”

“Is it boy?” Dren hauled the last few off him, and began a new, slow advance on Redmun. “Then why is there a glow in your chest, hmm? Why are have you been lying to me? What the hell Evil do you have?” His old face looked almost demonic with such fury crushing it, his voice coming as if from the depths of hell. “Not good enough!” He lifted his leg, and stomped. The ground shook, and the earth beneath Redmun became like dust.

His feet sank into the loose soil, and Redmun fell back once more. Dren leapt up and on top of Redmun. They struggled, Redmun's remaining hand grappling with both of Dren's, the maimed one merely batting. Dren's bared teeth snarled down at Redmun. There was little Redmun could do to stop Dren from pinning his whole hand beneath his knee. At the same time the earth around Redmun's legs solidified, trapping him completely.

“Dren, this doesn’t have to happen! You need to listen to me! Gelstadt's heading for Khelvorias! I have to stop him – no-one else can!” Redmun didn't know why his mouth was spilling forth such desperate truths and half truths. He'd stared down all Evils without fault, but the idea of being killed by one of his own put a fear in him.

“Enough,” Dren said, swatting away Redmun's pathetic attempts to batter him off with his stump of a hand. “I will not suffer an abomination to live.” From his boot came a sickly long blade. “Bye, boy.”

“Stop!”

Dren's blade fell. Redmun screamed. By instinct his maimed hand reached out. The blade stopped.

The tip dug into Redmun's ribs, but he hardly noticed. Where flesh should have been, fingers of light sprouted. Where flesh still remained Redmun could feel the blade slicing, but he could also feel those ethereal digits, wrapped like iron around the metal. The bandages had disintegrated where the light sprouted, and from that rip came a slow, crawling growth of new flesh. Redmun glanced up at Dren, and saw a face just as surprised as he felt.

With a snarl, Dren was hauled back. The Banshee's claw hauled him high in the air and tossed him to the side. “No you don't,” she said breathlessly, taking step forward, and falling. Blood dripped from her mouth.

“You see!” Ceilaine screamed, pointing right at Redmun's glowing hand. “The light! The burning, glorious light!” Her face, now full of rapture and worship, turned in Dren's direction, and became vicious. “This Evil cannot be withstood. End him.”

“What? NO!” Redmun shot up, but his trapped legs tripped him once more. Dren stood from where he fell, only to be swarmed once more by the believers. “Stop, please!” Redmun realized he'd been gesturing with his glowing fingers – it just felt too natural, too much like flesh and bone – and tried to snuff it out. Only it didn't go. “Evil!” He roared. No matter how hard he stamped on that flow from his heart, it would not close. “Jessa! Stop them!”

“I…” Jessa just dove for the dirt around his feet, digging with her knife. “I can't. The claws are too sharp. I'd kill them, or him.”

Redmun blinked at her words, trying to hear them. “Marwood! Do something!”

Even as he asked he knew the man wouldn't. He and his family huddled, separate from the crowd, watching. Watching Dren, and watching Redmun, his fingers. Lloyd's eyes reflected them, a single dot in those dark orbs.

Redmun dug those fingers into the earth, ripping out chunks of earth.

“Cielaine, stop this! I'll do whatever you want! I'll-”

“You won't Redmun,” the Saint said, looking right at him, and smiling. Dren's blade was in her hands now, large and unruly against in her soft, thin fingers. Dren struggled and cried out, his foot stomping against the earth, causing tremors. The earth sunk around him, but it just dragged him down too. “I see you trying to undo the healing of your flesh, to undo the signs of your holiness. You are a flawed Messiah.” That smile deepened, becoming, for perhaps the first time, a true smile. A beautiful smile. “But perhaps that makes you perfect.” She gestured with the blade. “I do this in your name.”

“NO!” was all he could say. Not in my name!

Dren struggled and roared like a beast, hauling men away with a single arm. There were so many. In that mess a space appeared. Cielaine walked forward, placed the tip against Dren's chest. He faced her, eyes wild with rage. Cielaine leaned into the handle. The blade sunk in. Dren roared.

“AAAGGGHH-” The scream cut short. Cielaine placed her small, dirty foot against Dren's chest, and yanked the blade out. It dripped red, Marwood's abandoned torch reflecting in blade and blood alike.

“Redmun! Fucking help!” Jessa's words didn't reach him, her hands grabbing at the dirt about his legs. Only Dren's eyes, looking to the sky, to nothing, and Cielaine's words.

“I'm sorry, Redmun,” she said, letting the blade fall to the ground. “I know this hurts, but I know the light will help you understand. You have to let it.”

Finally the Evil's power stopped, the flow slamming shut. Redmun hardly noticed. Arms clutched him from behind and dragged him from the now loose soil. “Come on! We need to go. We need to go.” Jessa, breathless, dragged him out, hauling him to his feet, slapping his face. Jessa looked afraid, and that sparked some action into his numb limbs. He nodded. She glanced about, eyes as wide as he'd ever seen them. “Fuck the sled. Fuck the night.” Jessa dove for the wooden thing, grabbing a bag, a spear, and an axe. “And fuck all of you!” She grabbed his arm, shoved a spear into his hands – he had both of them now. - and pulled.

They fled into the darkness.