Levi’el’s footsteps were near silent as he ran, muffled by the fine rug on which he tread. He ran at the back of the pack now, keeping his life-sight focused on their rear and his eyes on the captain and priest who plodded along with them. The humans forced them to slow their pace but Levi’el did not begrudge them; the captain ran well for a human, even hindered as he was by his heavy armor, and their slowed pace kept them from charging recklessly on.

  At first he had thought the town’s squalid presence had been merely a matter of its remoteness from the greater Empire, deep in the desert as it was, but now it seemed to him that the mayor held no regard for the realm beyond his estate; many treasures lined his halls, among them shining bodices of armor, large finely detailed paintings, and a dozen scattered curiosities Levi’el could not closely examine. He was reminded of a line from the Scripture, said to a greedy king in one of the old stories: verily, the linens on which ye rest shall have thee by the throat ‘ere the night is done. He wondered at the captain’s apparent loyalty to the mayor, but held his tongue. Now was not the time to prod.

  By the captain’s instruction they soon came to a spiraling stairwell, barely one man wide, which he said would lead them into the undercroft below.

  “What they have done is below, but I know not the bearing,” he said, “There is a room drawn over with bloodied sigils, which I have gone into, but the memory of it leaves me after I have gone out of it. I had writ notes to myself therein, and finding them afterward came to know what I had seen.”

  “Can you detect traces of that magic, Kai’a?” asked Levi’el. He could sense a steady tide of energy below, but his senses were not nearly as keen as hers.

  She shook her head and said, “No, not precisely. The magic is cast over a wide area, and they have left spells along the halls that pour out energy like a fog.”

  Father Torren spoke up, “When I was led down and imprisoned, I would recite on occasion the sun-finding prayer. Though my mind was fogged I was able to keep my bearing thus, the Radiant One as my guide. When they took me to the prisons, they kept a northward path, and twice turned westward.”

  “Clever, priest,” said Lautus, “the room to which they took me was once a storage hall, and though the exact memory of its location is gone from me I do recall it was away from the prisons.”

  “Then we keep a southward path?” asked Pera’va.

  “Seems to be our best bet,” said Kai’a.

  They descended and took the path southward, now at a steady walk. The corridors were darker here, made with bare stone brick and undecorated. The fog of energy around them made it difficult to life-sense anyone nearby, so they kept their senses focused close around them and allowed the priest to guide them with his prayers. As they walked and turned Levi’el felt a haze over his senses, and though he tried to keep his bearings he soon felt lost. The fog and dim lighting left his range of sense limited, and these things combined greatly disoriented him and left him feeling trapped. They moved like this for some time, until the priest stopped in his tracks at an intersection and began to turn nervously.

  “What ails you, priest?” asked Lautus.

  “Demonic mockery!” Torren exclaimed, “My prayer gives a strange answer, as if there were three or four suns in the sky.”

  “How is that possible?” Levi’el asked. The magic of the prayers was meant to be consistent and invariable. Did magic exist that could alter them?

  “The magic of demons is unpredictable,” said Eben’el, “They must have an arcanist in their ranks.”

  Kai’a mumbled the prayer, and after a moment replied in awe, “Clever trick! I thought the fog to have been set down with glyphs or seals, so that it would be unchanging, but someone is actively manipulating it. It’s a sense-altering spell, and they seem to have convoluted the sense of direction which the prayer generates.”

  “But why do it now?” asked Pera’va, “And not before when the priest was brought to confinement?”

  “To further confuse us?” asked Levi’el, “Or perhaps-”

  A voice from down the hall, like that of a young man, cut him off, “Perhaps it was a trap.”

  The solars turned as one and drew their weapons. Levi’el moved to position himself near Torren and Lautus, but before he could lay eyes on the speaker Lautus suddenly lunged at him and caught him midstep, knocking him to the ground. Levi’el’s vision whirled as he became engulfed in a struggle with the man, the loud clattering of his armor assailing his senses. He had great strength for a human and was exceedingly heavy, so that Levi’el had much trouble with him; he rolled and shoved for half a minute before he could get a firm grasp and push the man aside.

  Clambering to his feet, he tried to recover his surroundings; somehow they had moved apart from the others and lost them in the dim lighting. Through their mental link he could sense them further down the hall, but the fog muddled their thoughts, and they quickly drew further away. Lautus and Torren were near him, the former now struggling to his feet and the latter standing stunned.

  “Lautus! What the moons are you doing?” Torren asked, “You dare to lay hands on a holy messenger?!”

  “Shut up, you sun-addled priest,” Lautus spat back, “you almost ruined everything bringing them straight here! I’ll have your head at the end of all this!”

  The priest stuttered in confusion, and Levi’el’s thoughts did much the same. Lautus had betrayed them? Why? He had seemed so concerned for his men before. Had that been an act? He doubted Lautus would answer any questions freely, but perhaps he could be provoked…

  “Some captain you are, endangering the lord mayor like this,” said Levi’el, trying to put a sharp edge on his voice and take on a confident posture, “and all those men above dead, for what? What will you tell their families?”

  Lautus’ eyes darkened and he glared at Levi’el. While he was unsure of Lautus’ intentions, he was likely a prideful man, and deeply loyal to the lord’s family, as Torren had said. Men of his station usually were; who else would a lord who lined their halls with treasures keep closest by their side?

  “They didn’t deserve to die,” he continued, “but now I know who does. All those fineries and baubles here while the people outside live in dirt and rot. Lammond will pay the price in blood for what he-”

  “You have no right to speak of him!” shouted Lautus, pointing a finger at Levi’el, “You- you do not know what sacrifices he has made, only to be cast aside.”

  “Those men above, their blood now soaked into stones, they were cast aside!” Levi’el spat back, his anger now genuine, “What is their blood worth, Lautus? One lord? Two?”

  Lautus cast his eyes down and put his hands to his head. Looking as pained as if Levi’el had cut him, he said, “I was in control! It was all under control until you showed up. Now we have no choice but to see it through.”

  “There is always a choice,” said Levi’el, “and you can choose to let us help you. Let us cast out the venom that has seeped into this keep.”

  “And throw all of our work away? When we are so close?”

  “So close to what? What are you so desperately fighting for?”

  “The young lord would not have wanted this, Lautus,” interrupted Torren. He had grown pale, his voice low and fearful, but now a gentleness to it, “Not for his own sake.”

  The dots connected in Levi’el’s mind. Of course! “A resurrection? Is that what Lammond is after?” he asked.

  The captain stood agape for a moment before his shoulders slumped, as if a tense spring had broken inside of him, and he swayed on his feet before falling to the wall with a clank, startling the other two. After a while he spoke again, saying, “When the young lord fell to illness and left us, he took with him the light of sir Lammond’s life. My lord would hardly eat. It was weeks like this, watching him turn thin like an over-worn rag. Then they came and offered him miracles, and showed him magicks without Prayers, and after so long there was a fire in him again. A hellish fire it might be, stenched of sulfur and bile, but all the same it brought him to life. I knew it were ill-fated, but I could not take that light from him.”

  “The light of an open fire leads a moth to burning.” said Torren, quoting the Scripture, “You can still escape, Lautus. Surrender yourself.”

  “Lautus, whatever you know, you must tell me,” Levi’el said, “The only means for resurrection is a contract with a devil. Worse will come to Lammond if he binds himself to devil’s blood.”

  Lautus opened his mouth to speak, but before he could make any sound an arrow shot past Levi’el and lodged into his armor with such force that he was sent stumbling backwards. Levi’el turned and dashed to cover Torren, who stood stunned by the wall. The corridor had gone dark behind them, the torches farther down snuffed out, leaving only about ten meters visible. He sent his mind out into the dark and found an energy about forty meters past his line of sight, though its exact position was muddy, as an image seen through water.

  “Torren, see to Lautus! Go!” He barked at the priest. The old man snapped to, nearly tripping as he ran over to Lautus and began to check his wounds. Levi’el kept his eyes forward and checked the wards Kai’a had placed on him; with the force of the shot earlier he estimated they would block two or three at best. Trusting in them, he thrust his mind back behind him in the other direction, but could not make out any other presence. He brought his mind back up ahead to watch the shooter.

  Charging forward would leave the others exposed, but staying with them would leave them all sitting ducks. The pressure of deciding weighed him down and made his legs heavy; he wished sorely for guidance from the others, but their minds were weak wisps of thought lost in a churning sea.

  “Torren, how is he?” he asked, still keeping his eyes forward.

  “I will tend him,” said the priest, “Go forth!”

  He nodded, and trusting in Torren’s word he charged ahead with his sword drawn. Immediately an arrow came out from the darkness with blinding speed, aimed past him at the priest. He dove into its path and sparks flew as the metal arrowhead hit his wards, placed by Kai’a before the mission, and deflected into the stone wall to his left. A few more strides and he was engulfed in darkness.

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  Before his eyes could adapt to the dark, he cast a quick prayer, shouting “O ardent light, be revealed!” Using only part of the verse meant he had to take greater care to focus on the intent of the spell. Amateur that he was in magic, the light produced was dim and sickly, a gray sourceless glow stretching some fifty meters down the hall that flickered unsteadily. Ahead of him a figure appeared starkly against the glow, hunched at the knee and taking aim with another arrow. They swore loudly as the abrupt change in brightness hampered their vision and loosed their arrow in panic. The arrow flew low toward Levi’el’s legs and was easily deflected into the floor.

  Closing in he could begin to see some of their features; she was a female with pale hair held up in a leather cap. Her sharp green eyes were catlike, certainly not human, and they showed no panic, analyzing him with the calm ferocity of an animal on the hunt. They were decorated with pale paint drawn over the lid, brow and sides, stark against her ochre complexion. Her ears were pointed, but not as large or tapered as a solar’s. She wore a gambeson of hard leather with fur trimmings over a long green tunic, as well as hard leather boots and arm guards.

  And on her forehead peeking out from under her cap she bore a pair of small ivory horns.

  He pushed his speed to its limits and with several long strides came up to the archer and swung at her. She blocked the sword with her bow, which stopped the blade in its tracks despite its flimsy appearance, and drew a large dagger from her belt. She quickly pushed forward from her kneeling position and went on the offensive, using her bow to prod at his defenses while trying to push in with her dagger. Though she was certainly slower and weaker than him, she was fierce and well trained, stalling his attack completely.

  The thin light of his spell began to dim further as his focus wavered. Losing time, he took a calculated risk; he lunged into her reach and took a slash to his arm. A jolt of pain shot down his arm all the way up into his shoulder and the side of his wrist burned, but he persisted and used his momentum to slam the archer into the wall. She yelped and dropped her dagger from the impact. He held her to the wall as the light withered, reflecting in its last moments her eyes shooting venom into his.

  He prepared to cast a Prayer to bind her movement, but before he could she called out, “Kess!”

  Further down the hall in the darkness he felt an energy flare up, like the sudden striking of a match, and a moment later something round and hard came out from the darkness swinging toward him. He moved his arm to protect his head, letting go of the demon girl, and took a hard blow to his forearm. He reeled backward, trying to use his lifesight to find what had attacked him. He could detect a dim burn now in front of him, as if there should be a person there, but the energy was far weaker than normal. The magical “mists” around the halls, however, had now weakened somewhat; Levi’el could now more precisely feel the rest of his squad a distance back and to his right. His first thought was to retreat back to the others; to go forward here would put him further into the grasp of the caster who had just foiled him and leave the others vulnerable.

  What came to him next was not quite a thought; an impulse, but more than that, a strike of certainty, a demand from within himself, to go forward and pursue, to put out the evil things before him. There was a warm push to it, a comfort like a father’s encouraging hand put upon one’s back. His feet moved before he knew it, carrying him several steps down the hall at a run toward the faint lifelight ahead with his blade at his side, but the lifelight soon vanished, and with it the pressure to go on did fade away.

  “Levi’el!” the voice of Pera’va came out suddenly from behind him, past the priest and captain, pulling him back to his senses. He shook off the lingering feeling of impulse and with a curse quickly retreated back to Torren, who was knelt over Lautus. Pera’va stood at his side, eyes narrowed with apparent worry. The priest startled to his feet at the sight of Levi’el’s wound.

  “Holy Mercy!” he exclaimed, “Allow me to tend to you, sir Levi’el.”

  “Only close the wound. Don’t use too much energy,” Levi’el said, “How is Lautus?”

  The priest shook his head and said, “The wound is deep. I have done what I can to comfort him, but…”

  Levi’el bit down a curse and turned to Pera’va, “What of the others?”

  Pera’va eyed his wound as the priest began to work upon it and said, “It seems only the priest has not taken wound. They have made fools of us like dogs in a badger’s den.”

  “The others too?” Levi’el asked.

  “Aye. A swordsman came upon us. A good one.” He tapped the pommel of his sword impatiently as he spoke. “After a bout with Eben’el they fled and he pursued. I fell in behind Kai’a to guard her rear, but was attacked from behind by an archer and forced to part with them. I gave chase but they disappeared in this direction.”

  “There was an archer on our side as well, but she came from the other way. A mage too, but I could only sense them faintly, much less see them.” He quickly described his encounter to Pera’va, who listened with a sharp frown, then concluded, “The archer had horns, small ones, and pointed ears shorter than ours.”

  “It was the same with the swordsman.” said Pera’va, “Of the archer I could not see enough to tell, but the others may be moonlings, perhaps even drow.”

  His stomach turned. Moonlings were humans with lunar blood, and drow were the same for elves; it was said that drow could fight as fiercely as demons from the lower circles. He hoped most of all that the mage was not drow; such a mage might equal Kai’a in ability.

  He turned to Lautus, who sat with his back to the wall breathing heavily, and took a knee beside him. The captain looked at him distantly, with glazed eyes. The bloodied arrow lay on the stone floor beside him, glistening wet in the flickering torchlight, and blood stained his breastplate where it had pierced through.

  “Do you see what devils do to those who aid them?” he asked sternly.

  Lautus was slow to answer, and his words came slurred and heavy, “Have mercy… on my lord, holy one… let him see light, but not fire…”

  “Why did they attack you, Lautus?” Levi’el asked, “If you know anything more, please, be a light to us. Only do this and I will see your lord safe.”

  “The one called Samara,” he said, “she is their leader. She has been with us many years. I did not know that she was moonblood, holy one, I swear it, not until lord Lammond confessed it to me. She- aarrrgh!” His face contorted with pain and he gasped for breath. Torren at once began a prayer to soothe him, but it did little good. Pera’va held the hilt of his sword nervously, but Levi’el did not budge.

  “Lautus, you need not speak.” he said, “I will see it in you, but you must allow me. You will understand when it happens, but you must allow me or I will not see.”

  “He is near death, Levi’el, it is dangerous!” Pera’va said, “What can he tell? We will do our work regardless.” Despite his protest he made no move to interrupt, holding his sword even tighter.

  Levi’el only looked at him and, seeing him relent, took Lautus by the hand and looked into his eyes. He cut his connection with Pera’va and felt for Lautus’ lifelight, which was dimming rapidly now, and pushed his mind onto it. At first there was a resistance, a force which kept his senses from entering the flames of Lautus’ mind, but this relented at once. As one feels a flame by stepping into it, he felt everything which Lautus felt come over him; he gasped as icy pain stabbed his chest and a chill came into his blood. Fear murmured around him, kept at bay by a steady flow of thoughts; prayers, memories, and hopes rushed about his mind as though they were his own.

  Lautus’ eyes widened and his breathing became erratic as their minds intersected. He had come in as gently as he could, yet it was no easy thing for a human to meet minds with a solar. The danger was not only to him; to be caught inside a mind at the moment of its death could be fatal to the untrained, and still shock a trained solar into a stupor from which they might not wake for hours.

  “Do not speak,” he said gently, both aloud and with his thoughts, and tried to push feelings of calm and relief into the man, “only think what you must tell me and I will know.”

  The thoughts came like flashes of lightning; how Samara had come from the capital years ago bearing official documents assigning her as the Keeper of an old shrine, only that shrine had been taken apart decades past. Levi’el saw her in his memories and knew that she was the one he had fought. How she soon became an advisor and communicator of the Lord Mayor, and often brought mysterious guests from the capital, and oft rode messages thereto and back in shorter time than even the most experienced courier could manage; in this time the estate became much improved and assistance which had long been denied by the Empire became available to them. Then came the illness and death of the Lord’s son, very sudden, and he refusing the burning rites; and soon thereafter more strange guests from the capital, in the guise of elves, and when Lautus at last took question to Lammond the truth was brought out of him: that these were moonblood which the Lord Mayor had let into his commons, who had made pact with him since Samara’s arrival to bring coin to his coffer if only he would house them to their need.

  To this they were true, and Levi’el found no ill will toward them in Lautus for what they had done before the young lord’s death, but after they came upon Lammond like vultures, whispering unto him promises of resurrection if he would himself take up a contract and put any willing man in his commons to the same; to which Lammond agreed to take a contract upon himself only. They spoke softly and with guile, making it all seem as though Lammond had made every choice, taken every step towards the matter, but Lautus saw how they pulled on his weeping heartstrings; yet he saw no way out except to betray his lord, and so he suffered through it, and took contract to keep silent on penalty of death.

  Of the moonbloods he knew little, whether they were moonling or drow, or from where they came, only that they were organized and part of some larger group. Besides Samara and the one called Kess there were three others; a young swordsman who called himself Anavus, a human brigand Lisura, and another called Nerav of whom he knew least of all but that he was not human. Scattered thoughts of them rose up in the telling of his story. Of Kess he seemed to have rather fond memories; she was a shy girl, kind to the servants, and had a sweet tooth. Anavus and Lisura struck him as simple thugs, rough and mean and sometimes cruel, but focused and committed to their party. Samara’s impression on him was patterned and conflicted; she was commanding, spoke clearly and effectively, and had a keen mind with which she had staved off any attempt to know her or her party deeply, but Lautus had a respect for her as a soldier and leader.

  To conduct the resurrection the moonbloods had gathered a great many things; colored powders and papers drawn over with sigils and small knives which cut only through stone, and other oddities besides. A tapestry of memories rolled out at once; a dark room of stone and dust, glimpses of paper talismans strung up in intricate patterns. a table covered in layers of cross-cut cloth being carried down the hall, bowls of various stinking concoctions in the kitchen; confusion and irritation and being lost in the palace croft, on my own turf, but muddled thoughts of the maidservants as he entered the room, was it not below their quarters, but I swear we did set southward, and the strange feeling of forgetting as soon as he was out again, finding notes he could not remember writing scribbled onto his arm.

  All of this was passed to Levi’el in less than half a minute. When it was done Lautus’ thoughts grew simple and confused, yet still he pleaded for mercy and forgiveness to his lord. Then came thoughts for his wife and two sons, regret that he had recently been distant from them and would now leave them, relief that he had not involved them, pleas to see them safe and well. Then came thoughts for those men who had died above, and hatred again for the moonblood, and a great sorrow, and pleas again for forgiveness and mercy, but all for his men and his lord and none for himself. Then came fear as his flame flickered, and Levi’el did what he could to put warmth in him and comfort him, and promised him to see his lord safe, and his family, and what remained of his men, but Lautus was soon beyond understanding anything put toward him. His mind became rushed like water approaching a ridge, and in the twisting rapids only scattered debris, loose repeating thoughts of his family and friends, much wanting to see his wife and sons and parents and brothers, and Levi’el felt the drag and pull toward the ridge, could not swim out from it, felt the motions of his own mind so weak against it as the cold current battered at him.

  Then quickly came the creeping dark.

  “Levi’el!”

  He fell to his side, or was pushed, he was not sure. He returned to himself all at once, heaving for breath. He could hear nothing, see nothing, and all of his effort was spent only to hold back the bile rising in his throat and calm the shivers in his bones. After many long minutes his senses returned, first the voices of the priest and Pera’va reciting Prayers to warm and calm him, then the feeling of tears in his eyes and the stone floor on his hands and the scent of torches and dust. He came weakly up to his knees and felt the others take hold of him, Pera’va roughly wiping his face and tears.

  “You fool!” he berated, “You reckless fool! And for what?”

  The image of his scowling face slowly came into focus. Torren stood beside him, white with worry.

  “I’m fine, Pera’va,” he managed weakly, “Only…” Trying to describe Lautus’ last thoughts only brought the bile back into his throat, so he put them away. “Only give me a moment. I am fine. I will share what he told me.”

  Pera’va studied him for a moment and helped him to his feet, still scowling. He said, “We will give the rites when it is done. We must go.”

  Levi’el turned to the body of Lautus, slumped and motionless, and quickly looked away. We will return and see you put to rest, after we have made things right. After we save Lammond. I swear it to the Sun.

  He turned and lead them back the way they had come.