Bloodwalk

Myrrium hummed as she crawled. The sweet tones of her song tried to calm his nerves, urging him to lay down his weapon and be as among friends. Shaking his head, fending off the dryad's spell to charm him, he lashed out, hacking at the trunk of the oak behind him. Myrrium winced as that oak began to bleed, halting her spell as Oerryn screamed in pain and appeared above Quinsareth. He heard claws scratching against wood and glanced upward, catching only a brief glimpse of long black hair made of vines shading the orange light of fiendish eyes. He leaped sideways to avoid Myrrium's sudden charge.

Both dryads stalked him, gnashing their teeth and tearing small ruts in the ground where their long claws touched. They continued their song, though its notes were harsher now, more insistent. Bedlam matched the sound discordantly, which helped Quin resist its call. He backed away and the dryads herded him toward the middle tree. Though he considered turning the tables and attacking, he could not locate their absent sister. Aellspath had disappeared in the confusion.

Closer and closer he edged toward Aellspath's tree. The dryads' wounds bled freely, as did the tree and the root protruding from the ground.

He was familiar with the fey creatures and their co

Ignoring the pain, he did not call upon cold shadows to assist him but instead summoned the warmth of light. His hand grew hot as celestial blood rushed to answer the call, filling the rock with the bright and banishing light of day. Aellspath recoiled, hissing, as she was blinded by the sudden light. Her darkness melted swiftly away amid the beams that streamed through Quin's fingers. Quinsareth took advantage of her confusion and planted a boot in her stomach, pi

"Be silent, you fool!" The moaning stopped and Quin breathed easier, staring into the dryad's green orbs. "Good girl," Quin said, adjusting his stance to deal with the stand-off more comfortably. "If you kill me, they will kill you, sweetblood!" Aellspath hissed. "Possibly, but their victory cries will ring hollow in your dead ears," he jested back. Aellspath considered this, apparently not as confident in her sisters as she boasted. "What do you want?" "The Tower of Jhareat," he answered. "Where is it?" "You seek the red sorceress and her priests?

Certainly no sweetblood is a minion of that one? Tell her we kept our bargain. No one would suspect an aasimar to serve such an evil!" "I serve only myself. This red sorceress will greet me with as much warmth as you three have." Aellspath pointed an overlong finger in the direction of the ruined tower. "That way, sweetblood, and good riddance to you and the witch." Then she added, after a moment's thought, "Beware the priests that ring the tower and their pets in the field of stone." Quinsareth relaxed Bedlam's pressure on her throat but kept the blade close, curious about the dryad's volunteered advice. "Helpful now, are we?" "We share an enemy in the blood-witch, aasimar, that is all. This forest is ours to rule, not hers!"

Quinsareth was quiet for a moment, turning the gleaming stone end over end in his palm as he thought. Looking over his shoulder in the direction the dryad had indicated, he saw nothing but thick tangles of trees, bloodthorns, and razorvines. He considered the obstacles he'd face once he reached the ruins. He turned back to Aellspath, who writhed beneath Bedlam's touch. He withdrew Bedlam from the dryad's throat, keeping it a hand's breadth away but sparing her the pain of its blessed blade. "Perhaps we might help one another," he offered mysteriously. The game piece he imagined tumbled through his thoughts, bearing the symbol of the Bargain. The dryad, relieved by the absence of the sword, narrowed her emerald eyes and met his white gaze. "What do you propose, sweetblood?"

A gleaming black spider crawled cautiously across the window sill, pausing to inspect the pale obstacle of Morgy

Goorgian, who'd crafted the scrying bowl, was a mysterious figure in Nar's past, thanks in large part to such magic. Never leaving his fortress, he'd been able to send his magic across great distances. He preferred to watch the world pass him by, even up to that moment when the armies of Raumathar had come marching across the horizon. The spider crawled cautiously, feeling the surface of her skin grow warm as an unseen current flowed beneath its feet. Her pulse quickened and still she did not move, but the spider grew agitated as its new perch twitched. Feeling threatened, its fangs glistened with venom and its rose on its hind legs in a defensive posture, turning in tight circles. Slowly the spider's world calmed, the soft ground it stood upon grew still and cooled. "Peskhas," Morgy

She turned and found Khaemil still guarding the doorway, though his eyes were closed and his lips whispered silent prayers. She did not begrudge his loyalty to Gargauth, but it a