Deep under the ground, Delire and Jeria huddled together. They watched the march of the people through the underground tunnels, massive wagons pulled by cave beasts that bellowed their protest at the load. The wagons were loaded down with food; enough to feed every refugee for another month. Around the refugees, pairs of guards and scouts kept a lookout for danger.

Two weeks had passed since the city had been abandoned, Delire still mourned for the many Outwalkers and soldiers that had stayed behind to fight the fiends, to lure them into the trap that would destroy their army and block them from following the column of refugees. She spoke little these days. She gave orders, taking command and ignoring the city leaders who now walked below amongst the commoners. All had been brought low. All were now equal in their poverty and destitution. When the city was abandoned, so was everything else, each person carried only their clothes and two blankets.

"Jeria, go out wide, find the next guard pair and bring them back here. You and I are going forward. The next lake should be coming up soon and I want to see who is in possession of it."

Jeria scurried forward; eager to follow her orders and prove himself worthy of the badge of the Outwalkers he had been given. He still remembered the ceremony, taking place as the first of the refugees stepped out of the back gate, herded in the direction they hoped refuge would lie: Gunder's Hall.

Five Outwalkers stood before him, each in full regalia. Delire stood up, pulling his head down to her level, affixing the badge to his cloak with a pin. She stepped back, turned to the other five present. "In the absence of his Master, Gruzz, killed mercilessly in action by a fiend, I stand and present the apprentice Jeria. I recognize he has passed the solitary vigil, survived three days on his own on the outside and passed the test of necessity, returning with information essential to us all. Does anyone challenge my right to recognize him as an Outwalker?" One by one each of the masters stepped forward, proclaimed him acceptable; each affixed their own mark to the badge he wore. Then they left; the city needed them and there was no time available for celebration. Delire simply looked at him; nodded and walked away.

***

Delire and Jeria lay hidden behind a pillar, peering down at the lake before them. The entrance in would be large enough for the food and water wagonsby only a small margin. What worried them was the checkpoint set across it. They looked, Delire cursing the distance that denied them getting a more detailed look.

"We're going to have to go forward, and they WILL see us approaching. It doesn't look like fiends or their stooges, but this deep there are plenty of others to worry about. Best case it will be some of the blasted dark dwarves, worst case we will have to deal with the slaves of those ruddy grey faced, blood sucking crabs." She saw Jeria's look and added, "Right, they're not crabs, but those mouths always remind me of a crab. I'm talking about the Aeliogh. You've probably never met one; we didn't allow them in the city for all the peace that prevails down here. Nobody trusts them. Who can trust a brain eating creature that uses the rest of the body like a zombie when it has finished?"

The two stood up, heading down the passage, sticking to the sides to try to avoid being seen for as long as possible. Uselessly, as it turned out. As they passed a black crystal globe set in the wall it flared up, bathing them in a strange purple light, Jeria's skin shining oddly beneath it. From the barricade, a man stepped forward, coming into the light himself. He looked at them, and at this distance his black skin, grey eyes and pointy ears gave some comfort, that and the badge of the trading house of Serlius.

"I am Keral, commander of this post and watcher of the gate. What brings you two here?" He examined them, noting the badges they wore. "You are from Weald hall, or so your insignia mark you? Have you heard what has happened? Rumours have come down but not much more."

Delire stood where she was, looking the Dark Paeon in the eyes, "I am Delire, Chief of the Outwalkers of the, by now, destroyed Weald Hall. I lead the refugees. They follow behind me. Three thousand people will be coming through here within eight hours. Is the lake area clear?"

Keral stared at her, taking in her face, her badge and her claim. "Your reputation is known. My men will move the barrier and make the path easier for those behind you. No doubt, many of them will be tired, worn out from their journey. I will send word ahead. The lake has a trading post, but they will need to send out for a lot more provisions than they normally have."

“Thank you, but no need for them to worry about provisions, we have our own.” Delire, looked over her shoulder, “You should see the column soon.”

“You have provisions, but how long until you find a permanent place to rest and rebuild? We will send for more provisions, and let others know the news.”

***

Hiron stood within the encampment, fuming. Gibbets stood in lines; the bodies of his pathetic officers strung up by their arms, manacles biting into their wrists, the cold iron of the manacles an extra discomfort.. He walked down the line, disembowelling some of them. His choices made at random in a seemingly a chaotic pattern known only to him and not to those forced to observe.. He came to the end of the line and looked back at the gibbets, at those pathetic ones that screamed, staring down at the loops of their intestines hanging down to the ground.

"Release those I spared; bring Khiss to me."

Soldiers hurried to carry out his bidding, knowing that those officers freed would look kindly on them and reward them, if they did the job quickly and efficiently. One of them went running into the camp, into the centre where a small tent sat surrounded by pickets, in the centre of the tents of the most powerful fiends. The creature that emerged from the tent was no fiend though. It was small, its features those of a bipedal lizard, arms in place of the upper set of legs. A mere kobold, it seemed strange to see one so heavily guarded and well treated by powerful fiends. Khiss approached Hiron and bowed.

"Summon Ber'lia back. I want to know what happened to him and his hounds." Hiron's voice was soft, but everyone nearby recognised the muted fury it contained. Khiss wasted no time, thankful that Ber'lia was but a minor fiend and the toll exacted on his power would leave him bedridden and in pain for no more than a few days.

Those around Hiron and Khiss watched as Khiss started his summoning; dancing and chanting in the sibilant language his kind used. Faster and faster he spun, his feet falling in a set pattern, the ground slowly brightening, the summoning pattern burning into the rock. Eventually he dropped, his feet worn raw, his blood imparting power to the pattern. The brightness rose and heat washed across those that stood nearby. The fiend slain by Mekior stood within the circle.

Hiron turned to two fiends who stood ready, their forms the same as the unlucky Ber'lia. "Strap him up and get the torturers to work on him, I will be there shortly." He turned to Ber'lia

"You lost me my prisoners and my son. You will pay." The smile on Hiron's face was cold, bringing fear into the eyes of a fiend that had never before contemplated such an emotion, "For a very long time."