"Stand by… teleporting!" Tiri began her spell, while the others braced themselves for the nausea of the wrenching relocation.

Braag grinned down at the little rogue, who had squeezed his eyes shut. "Not looking only makes it worse, Ferret," the shadowknight told him. He had long experience with the druid's magickal transportation.

"I don't care. I don't like the funny swirly colours," the gnome replied, without opening his eyes. "I don't know how you can stand it." He set his sharp features in a long-suffering expression.

The ogre shook his head. "I still haven't seen the colours you always complain about. Just a few coloured specks of light." He ran his eyes over the others, ensuring his team was prepared and in position.

The spell went off with a clap of thunder, and they were elsewhere, in between the worlds. With a twisting lurch, they landed, staggering a step or two as they regained their equilibrium.

"Here we are. Welcome to the Dreadlands." Tiri brushed her long brown hair back from her face, and looked around her. "Doesn't look so ‘dread' to me," the wood elf remarked.

"We're not quite there, yet," Merilee said. "And we've got a long way to go to get where we're going, too." The bard turned towards the troll shaman who stood beside her, and smiled, for Korgoss was staring upward at the trees, a look of awe on his face.

He lowered his eyes self-consciously, glancing around at his companions.

Merilee smiled at him again, and poked him, pointing at the froglok paladin, who had picked up a fallen leaf, and was turning it in his fingers. It seemed a fire burned there in his hand, and the frogloks green eyes were bright with wonder.

Arrek felt their eyes on him, and offered the leaf to the half-elf bard with a bow. She took it with the same courtliness.

All of them had stopped to turn slowly to gaze in at the scenery around them. The trees were turning glorious shades of red and gold, looking for all the world as if they were ablaze. The grass was soft beneath their feet, and the air had just the slightest chill. It was simply beautiful. And they had perfect weather for travelling.

"There's a tunnel we have to pass through, over that way. Shall we head off?" Merilee tucked a strand of golden hair that had escaped her ponytail behind an ear, and smiled. "We won't get anywhere just standing around." She took a few steps, looking back at her friends. "Coming?"

"But, you weren't thinking of leaving so soon…?" The smooth voice had come from close beside her, and the tone dripped menace.

Merilee looked around, and the air shimmered before her, revealing a group of Teir'dal. She frowned, and took a step backwards, towards her companions. Behind her, she heard Tiri gasp.

"You've done quite well for yourself, Sword of Cazic Thule. We believed we had killed you. Imagine my surprise when I got word that you still live. I'll have to rectify that." One of the dark elves stepped out from the rest, his gaze spearing Braag. "We don't forget those who have thwarted us." He gestured, and yet another group of dark elves appeared from invisibility. The robed speaker smiled, his eyes as clear and colourless as ice crystals, and as cold.

"Tiri. Get them out. Now." The ogre drew his sword, and took a step towards the robed figure. The dark elf smiled again, and raised his hands, beginning to glow with eldritch energy.

The druid began to utter the words of a spell that would carry them away from the ambush, but the dark elves were not waiting, and sprang to attack.

"Kill the ogre. I don't care about the others. Kill them, capture them… enjoy yourselves. But that ogre must die." The command was followed by words of power, as the wizard began a spell of his own.

Arrek's voice rose over his, and a blast of magickal energy shook the Teir'dal, knocking him backwards. He cursed as his magicks went awry.

"Innoruuk take you!" the wizard cried in anger.

"I'm already claimed, thank you," the paladin replied, taking up a place beside Braag, turning to guard the ogre's flank. He spun to block a sword thrust with his shield. "He can take you anytime, though. Preferably soon."

"You two get back here! Quickly!" Merilee shouted, as her own swords wove a pattern in the air before her, darting out to strike a Teir'dal who had turned to attack the druid. "She's almost done!" Desperately, the rogue and shaman joined her in fighting against the dark elves who were now seeking to stop the escape attempt.

The froglok nodded, and gave a prodigious leap, carrying himself over the heads of the Teir'dal that had encircled him, landing in range. Another fell to his sword, and he turned to lay waste to a dark elf that blocked Braag's retreat. It fell, and the ogre's foot crushed its skull as he stepped backwards.

Braag took a second step backwards, then turned towards the group to take the stride that would bring himself within the sphere of the druid's magicks.

Behind him, flickering into existence from invisibility, yet another dark elf appeared, naked blade at the ready. The assassin plunged the weapon expertly between the plates of Braag's armour. The ogre staggered, tearing the hilt from the assassin's hand. The dark elf cursed, and reached to retrieve it, but Braag was already falling, his momentum carrying him forward the last step as he went to his knees.

Korgoss reached out long arms, and caught him, hands already bright with a blue glow, and words of healing on his lips.

The sound of thunder crashed around them, and they were gone.

The assassin stared at the place where they had been, and shook his head with disgust. He turned to the robed figure.

"It's done. Let's have the second half." He crossed his arms, and stood waiting.

"I want more than your word, rogue. Prove it." The colourless eyes stared long at the assassin.

"It's why you hired me," the rogue shrugged. "Believe me, he was dead before he fell. And you owe me for my blade, too. That was my best dagger."

The colourless eyes still held his, and the rogue didn't flinch from them.

"Pay him." The wizard turned away, and a pouch landed at the rogue's feet. He picked it up, and hefted it with satisfaction.

"Nice doing business with you." The assassin nodded once, then vanished before their eyes.

"Master?" One of the others stepped forward, hesitantly bowing. "What about the ones he travelled with? Won't they restore him?"

The wizard's cold eyes held a hint of amusement. "None of ours will succour them, and that fool travelled with a Sword of Marr. None of those truth-and-justice fools can help him. And they don't have very long to find someone who can." He laughed. "I hold no hope for him. Who among the paleskins would restore an ogre... and a Sword of Cazic Thule?" He sniffed. "At least the goings on in that dump of a city are no longer my affair. Once I let the ambassador know this has finally been dealt with, I'm free of the jungle, and its thick-skulled inhabitants. Then I get to deal with the damned trolls in Neriak."

* * * * *

The ring of standing stones in the quiet valley burst with frantic activity as the group appeared in its midst.

The woman whose only tasks were to tend the ring, and sell magicks to those who came seeking them watched them idly. They were none of her concern, and she could not aid them even had they asked it of her.

As the group slowed, realising that haste was no longer needed, she lost interest, and returned to her meditations. She had seen far too much death, and had no need to see more.

Arrek sat a little apart from the rest, watching as they gathered around Braag.

Tiri held the great head of the ogre to her breast, weeping and bestowing kisses on the rough features. Merilee had wrapped her arms around her cousin, holding her gently, watching both her and Korgoss. The troll, shoulders bent with sorrow, held one of the shadowknight's hands. Perhaps most surprising of all, Ferret clung to the other hand, sobbing as hard as Tiri.

The little rogue stayed so much in the background, that his display of emotion was all the more wrenching to the paladin's soul.

None of them looked at him.

They knew, from the many discussions and friendly arguments around evening campfires that the Oaths that bound the two knights to their gods were rigid, and were the price paid for the favour those same gods had bestowed upon them. Had they not been bound otherwise in oaths of honour, they would have slain each other when they first met.

What they did not know, was that, at some indefinable point in the year that they had travelled together, and fought side by side - to Arrek at least - the intricate dance of honour he shared with Braag had become something more. This left the paladin in the unenviable position of being Oathbound to consider Braag an enemy, where his heart knew him as a friend.

That he could restore life to the fallen shadowknight, he knew. But that act would break the oaths that made him what he was. He did not know what the consequences would be, but that they would be immediate, and dire, he did not doubt. He did not think that Marr would demand his life - his god was not one to slay out of pique - but it was a possibility.

And with each passing hour, the soul of his friend would slip farther from his reach. If he did not act, then before very long at all, no power on Norrath would be able to restore him.

A strange peace filled the paladin, as he came to a decision. If he let Braag die forever, then he would never be able to live with himself, oaths or no.

He rose to his feet, and came to stand close beside the troll who had become his dearest friend. He put his hand on Kor's shoulder, and the troll looked at him.

The shaman's eyes widened, but he moved aside, so that the paladin could kneel beside the ogre.

Braag's hand was too large for Arrek to hold easily, so he wrapped his fingers around the ogre's thumb, and bent forward to touch the shadowknight's cheek. Tiri looked up at him with eyes that glimmered with hope. She looked down at the still features of her husband, watching anxiously.

A golden glow began to emanate from the froglok, and it spread to Braag as they watched, until he seemed lit from within by the brilliant light.

Arrek could feel the sudden attention and anger that centred on him, and used his last moment before the wrath of his god fell on him to place his hand on the shadowknight's breast, and release his Gift.

But the blue light that surrounded them both was no gentle healing. It emerged as a searing blue flame that scorched both souls, even as it healed the ogre.

Arrek's head flung back, his mouth opening in a silent scream, as Braag arched his back beneath his hand. Then, the light went out as if a candle had been snuffed, and the froglok fell limply to the ground, still clutching the ogre's thumb.

Braag's chest rose, as he took a gasping breath, and Tiri gave a wordless cry of joy, before bending to again cover his face in kisses. The ogre's eyes opened, and he stared up at his wife with bemusement.

"What did I do to deserve this?" he asked, then frowned when he saw her tear-stained face. "What happened?" he demanded, raising his hand to brush her cheek, and frowning again at the weakness that made him strain to move.

She shook her head, unable to reply, and held him close.

"What do you remember?" Merilee asked gently, reaching down to rest a hand on the shadowknight's head. Braag blinked up at her, seeing her attention shifting from him to something out of his field of view, and back. Her face, too, bore the tracks of tears.

"Dark elves, damn them all." He thought for a moment. "A blow from behind, then...blue light. Burning blue light... and a voice... asking a question?" he trailed off in confusion. "Then Tiri kissing me."

"Braag, they killed you." The troll's voice came from his right, and had a strange timbre. "Arrek brought you back."

The shadowknight blinked again. "He can't. He's a Sword of Marr." Tiri nodded at him, still unable to speak. "But... it's forbidden. Do you know what could happen to him?"

"No." The troll's voice shook. "But it is done."

With a great effort, the ogre heaved himself up, and propped himself with his elbow. He turned, to see the troll cradling the senseless froglok in his arms.

As he watched, Arrek groaned, and raised a shaking hand to his head. His eyes opened, and he blinked up at the troll for a moment, before turning his head to look at Braag. He smiled, and there was a strange light in his face.

"Good. It worked," the froglok said quietly.

"Arrek... what have you done?" The ogre's eyes were wide with disbelief.

"I healed you." The froglok smiled again, and sat up. Kor carefully set him down, and Arrek squeezed his hand reassuringly before he bent over the shadowknight.

Braag sank back down, unable to hold himself up any longer, and he stared up at the froglok leaning over him. "Your Oath... why would you throw it away?" Arrek's cool fingers cupped the ogre's cheek, and gently stroked his face in the odd gesture the froglok used to show affection.

"Some things," he told the shadowknight softly, "Are more important than others."

* * * * *

The view from their camp was magnificent. The valley's gentle slope led down to the sea, which could be glimpsed in the distance. In the other direction, the circle of stones was already wreathed in the shadows of evening.

Braag - nearly recovered from the after-effects of his restoration - stepped away from the encampment, and seated himself on a fallen tree to watch the sun set over the ocean, and think. His strength had returned slowly as his body had overcome the shock of being dead, but the shock of the circumstances of his resurrection was much harder for the Sword to deal with.

Tiri came to find him, but merely kissed him, and left him to himself when she saw his face.

The sun disappeared into the waters, and the stars appeared one by one, but the ogre did not see them as he sat, lost in thought. The sound of a step behind him brought him back to himself, and he looked up to find that Korgoss had come to join him. Over the years, the two had learned to accept the support that the other offered. Both shared an exile from their respective peoples, and found themselves thrown into a world that despised them. The troll had more than once pulled him from rage or despair with a few words of wisdom, and he, in return, had been able to explain the strange ways of the people they had found themselves dealing with.

The shaman studied him without a word, then sat slowly beside him. Neither spoke for a long time.

"I don't understand him," the ogre admitted finally, shaping the words in the shaman's tongue. He looked up to see Korgoss smile.

"You should talk with him," the troll replied, the guttural words flowing far easier than the strange sounds of the polyglot called ‘Common.' "It will help you."

"He has nothing to gain from this," the shadowknight grumbled, staring at the ground, and shaking his head.

"No?" Korgoss smiled again as Braag once more looked up at him. "Ask this way, then... What would he lose if he did not heal you?" He watched the ogre as he turned the idea over. "For this, Braag, you must think with your heart, not with your head."

Braag felt the shaman's hand rest on his shoulder for a moment, then the troll arose, and left him to struggle with his thoughts.

He wasn't left long, though. Again he heard footsteps, as someone came around the log to stand beside him. There was amusement in the froglok's voice as he spoke, extending a steaming bowl of stew to the shadowknight.

"Kor asked me to bring you your dinner," he said. "It's going to get cold otherwise." He grinned as the ogre snorted. "I know, but I think that's about as subtle as he gets."

Arrek leaped up onto the log, and seated himself on top of it, looking out at the distant silver of the sea, and waiting patiently while Braag stared down at his dinner.

"Arrek... what you did..." the shadowknight said at last, "I don't know why you did it. Or how to thank you."

The froglok shrugged. "You're my friend," he said simply. "And you just did." He smiled as the ogre blinked with surprise, and turned to look at him. "Eat your stew. And no, I have no clue what it is."

Braag ate in silence, shaken by Arrek's words, and trying hard not to show it. For the truth in those words had shone through, as had the emotion behind them - an emotion that Braag was not certain he was able to face.

He finished, and turned the bowl idly between his fingers, glancing again at the froglok who sat beside him. He swallowed. "What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?"

"Who? Marr? No. He didn't hurt me. He just broke the link between us, and took back what he'd given. That did hurt, but I don't think it was a deliberate thing." Arrek rubbed his head in memory.

"Cazic Thule is less forgiving." The ogre looked down at his hands. "I doubt I would be so easily released from his service, if I were to disobey."

Arrek nodded slowly. "There is that," he agreed. "But tell me, Braag, if something happened to Tiri, and the only way you could help her would be to give it all up, no matter what it cost you... would you?"

The ogre's black eyes met his, and a slight smile twisted his lips. "In a heartbeat." He sighed. "She's ruined me, you know."

The froglok's eyes twinkled. "Well, should the Faceless reject you because of her, I've got a couple of suggestions for a replacement."

The shadowknight stared at the froglok, then emitted a short bark of laughter, recognising his own words. "Have you been waiting to do that all this time?" he asked. Arrek nodded, grinning. The ogre shook his head.

"It hasn't been a problem yet," he said slowly. "He doesn't seem to care much what I do, so long as I don't break my own Oath. I should be bringing fear to the hearts of others, though..."

"There are many sorts of fear." Arrek rubbed his chin in thought. "Doesn't loving you cause Tiri to fear for you? And you for her?" He smiled slightly as the ogre blinked. "So you are bringing fear into people's hearts. Maybe you should ask about it some day."

"That's probably not the best idea." Braag grinned. "The personal attention of the gods is not necessarily a good thing. Besides, those who turn to Cazic Thule seek the darker side of fear, and power it gives them. That is why I chose to follow him, after all." He looked over his shoulder towards the fire, and indicated the troll with his chin. "Kor was raised to follow the Faceless as well. I met his Master once, long ago. But he doesn't even bother with lip service. He's rejected all the gods outright. I always thought the shamans received their powers from the gods they followed ...but Kor still heals, and works magicks."

"Perhaps the gods haven't rejected him." Arrek mused. "They're funny that way."

"What will you do now?" the ogre asked quietly, after a moment. "You've given up everything you've ever worked for…"

"Not everything, Braag. I have my life. I have all of you," the froglok replied, gesturing to include the group. "I still have my skills. I am not totally useless. I'd like to stay with you all, if you'll still have me." He smiled as the ogre snorted again in derision.. "See? Just because I no longer serve Marr as a Sword doesn't mean my life is over. It'll be interesting getting used to being a Dar. I'm not sure I can work up the necessary attitude." He sat introspectively for a moment. "The hardest will be not being able to heal others. I don't like to see people hurting." He shrugged. "Kor says he'll teach me how to do it without magick, and we've done some talking. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be. So many little things to remember."

"Arrek?" Tiri had come up behind them as they spoke, and they both turned to look at her. "Have you thought about going to one of Marr's temples, and seeking forgiveness or penance?"

A shadow passed over the face of the fallen paladin. "Yes, I did," he said. "But after I thought about it a little, I realised it wouldn't be right." He stared at his toes, fumbling for the words to explain as she frowned. "I can't ask forgiveness for something I don't regret, and would repeat." He looked up, and met her eyes, seeing the dawning comprehension. "If I did so, I would be lying to Him, and to myself." He shook his head. "Better to leave it be. I knew what I was doing when I made my choice." He stood slowly, and sighed. "I do have one obligation, though. I need to go home, and tell the one who taught me. Master Grubbus deserves to know. And I have to give this back." He looked down at the medallion that hung around his neck, then removed it, and tucked it into his pouch. "That won't be easy; not for either of us." Turning, the froglok made his way back to the firelight.

Ferret woke up early the next morning. He got up, and looked about. As he had expected, Arrek's bedroll was empty. On silent feet, he scouted out the area, until he found the spot the froglok had chosen to do his usual morning devotions. Arrek was kneeling in silent prayer, and the gnome waited for him patiently. When the froglok arose, Ferret approached him.

"Good morning," Arrek said, nodding to the gnome, who ducked his head in reply, and shifted nervously from foot to foot. The froglok cocked his head, examining the rogue curiously. "Ferret? Is something the matter?"

"I... I..." the gnome began, then abandoned words altogether. He flung his arms around the froglok's waist, and hugged him tightly. "You don't know what he means to me..." The rogue's words were muffled against Arrek's chest when he finally got them out. "Thank you for saving him."

Arrek blinked in surprise, but returned the embrace with a smile. "Make sure you tell him, too," the froglok told him gently. "Let him know. Don't wait until it's too late, again. We're lucky, you and I. We got second chances." The rogue drew back, looking up into the wise green eyes, then shook his head.

"I can't... he's an ogre. He'd never live it down..."

"I don't think anyone here would laugh at either of you, Ferret." Arrek put his arm around the gnome's shoulders, and guided him back towards the camp. "Besides, you don't have to do it in front of the rest. Wait until he's alone, like you just did with me."

The gnome nodded slowly, then stopped again, and looked up at the froglok. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and continued walking. Arrek laughed.

"Spit it out, you." He caught the gnome by the shoulder to stop him. "What is it?" Ferret flushed. He gestured back towards the secluded spot the other had chosen.

"Do you ... uh... still have to do that? I mean..." The rogue flushed again.

"It's never been something I had to do. It's something I want to do." A touch of sadness entered the froglok's voice. "It's different, now. I don't feel Him with me anymore." He sighed, then managed a self-depreciating smile. "I guess that makes me just like everyone else. Never knowing for sure if someone's listening."

The rest were awake when the two returned, and they joined them for breakfast, and a discussion of what their plans should be. Any thought of returning to the Dreadlands was abandoned quickly.

"I wish I knew how they knew we were going there." Tiri crossed her arms and glowered at the fire.

"I would like to know precisely who ‘they' are," Arrek said quietly. "You know I have never asked you about your pasts… it's none of my business. Or it wasn't. It is now. Can we expect more of that?" The froglok studied the couple, who would not meet his eyes. He looked at the others, seeing that both Korgoss and Ferret shared his interest, and were watching the pair as well. Merilee's face was carefully composed. She knew whatever the story was, but would leave it to her cousin – and her cousin's mate – to explain.

It was some moments before either of them spoke. Braag shifted uncomfortably, then nodded. "I was young, still in training, when the dark elves sought to increase their presence in Oggok," he began. "I overheard them talk. They wanted to bring us more under their heel." Braag leaned forward, his eyes on the fire, seeing the events of his past playing out in the tongues of flame. "We are a proud people, and should not be ruled by such as they. They use us for our strength. It is a form of slavery, however well they sugar-coat it." His voice was flat. "So I decided to stop them. I knew it would mean my death. But it was a good price for the freedom of my people." He shifted again. "They had planned a meeting out in the jungle, with a courier from Neriak. So I went out, to stop the meeting." He looked over at Tiri.

"We had gotten word of the Teir'dal plans ourselves," Tiri continued. "A more powerful alliance between the Teir'dal and the ogres wasn't an especially welcome thing to my people, or our allies either. We gathered together a small group of us, to oppose them. To catch the courier. It was…rather a surprise when we ran into Braag, and found out he had the same agenda. Necessity makes strange bedfellows, and our leader decided it would serve us to work together." She shrugged. "We didn't get along particularly well. But we could understand where Braag was coming from, and why he wanted the Teir'dal stopped." She fell silent. "It worked, anyway. We managed to work together, and we killed the courier. But the Teir'dal..." She looked at the ground, unable to continue.

"The Teir'dal were… unhappy." Braag reached out to his wife. "They have their ways of finding things out. And they found us. They arranged another ‘meeting'… between us, and the Tae Ew. The Tae Ew are the lizard-people of the jungle. They were far beyond our power to oppose. And they slaughtered us." He stroked the wood elf's hair. "Only Tiri and I survived it. She by luck… and I… I would not be here were it not for her." He smiled. "She had no love for me, then, and little respect, I think. But she healed me."

The druid managed to find her voice. "I was covered in blood, and mostly underneath a dead Tae Ew. Braag... well... his Master had come with the dark elves." Her voice filled with contempt. "And they made him do the checking, since they didn't want to get their hands dirty. He lied and said Braag was dead. I think he wanted him to die in peace in the jungle, instead of being dragged back to be tortured or something. Anyway, they all left. And I was left alone with a mostly dead ogre, in the middle of the jungle. I healed him as best I could. I wasn't very strong then, but ..." She shrugged. "And then Droog came. Droog is Braag's brother, and he had come to find his body. He found us. I couldn't have moved Braag, and the dead were starting to attract things. He took us to a safe place, and brought us food and water, until Braag was well enough to travel."

"And in the end," the shadowknight said bitterly, "The ‘alliance' went ahead. We failed. And I cannot go home. All for nothing."

"Maybe we failed at what we were trying to do… but the dark elves lost their initiative… and had to agree to more concessions." Tiri stood up, and put her arms around her husband. "I think they have a lot less control over Oggok and your people than they'd like. Which is why they were so angry with you."

"And now they've found me again. We had let them believe I was dead, but I haven't exactly been hiding," Braag said. "It looks like we'll have to be a lot more careful. They're certain to be looking for me again, now." He looked around at the group as a thought occurred to him.

"Don't you even think it, you!" Tiri exclaimed. "If you think we'll let you go that easily..." The ogre blinked up at her in amazement. "I swear I'll get Korgoss to knock you silly if you try it."

"How...?" Braag's eyes were wide as he stared at his wife.

"How? How many years have we been together now, Braag? You don't think I've learned to read your face in all that time?" The druid crossed her arms. "And if you think I'll let you walk off and leave me ‘for my own good' - or whatever other reason you come up with - you've got a lot to learn yet." There was a general murmur of agreement from the others, and nods.

The shadowknight looked around at the resolute faces, and shifted uncomfortably again, his ears reddening.

Ferret cleared his throat, looking equally uncomfortable as their attention moved to him. "Y'know... the last place they'll look for him's in the Feerrott." The gnome swallowed as the ogre grimaced. "I mean... we were heading off to the Dreadlands to practice fighting some stronger stuff, right? What about those Tae Ew you mentioned? You're not too young t'fight them now. And you got us."

Tiri and Braag looked at each other. "We have that debt to collect from them," the ogre said thoughtfully.

"And we'll be able to walk Arrek home, first. So he can talk to his Master," Tiri added quietly.

Arrek nodded. "I do want to get that over with," he said. "The sooner the better. It's not something I'm looking forward to. I'm afraid that if I put it off... I'll never go." He too stared into the fire.

"Then that is what we'll do." Braag stood abruptly, and looked around. "Break camp. We'll go as soon as we can get ready."

* * * * *

Once more, they stood together, watching the druid perform her magicks. Ferret again screwed his eyes closed before she started, to Braag's amusement.

When they landed, the jarring twist ripping them from the mountain valley to drop them in the steaming jungle called the Feerrott, Arrek stared at the gnome in amazement, nearly bursting with questions. The normal brilliant greens of the jungle soothed his eyes after the stomach-churning display he had watched manifest around him as they teleported. The place in his head that had burned with agony as his magick was taken from him had throbbed in time with the shifting colours.

The rogue flushed, then paled in turn when he noticed the froglok's open-mouthed stare. But Arrek said nothing, turning away, his hand rising reflexively to rub his head. Ferret's own hand was doing the same. The gnome glanced around the group, but no-one had noticed the exchange. He relaxed slowly, feeling oddly relieved as he watched Arrek and Kor talking, with gestures towards the east. It was good to know that he wasn't crazy after all, and that the strange effects that had tormented him for so many years were not just imagination. He drifted towards the others, who had gathered around the pair.

"...patrols that will take offence to your presence," Arrek was saying. "It won't take me long to get across, if I swim straight." Korgoss was shaking his head.

"We will not let Braag go off. We will not let you go either." The troll crossed his arms. "We go together."

Arrek opened his mouth, then closed it again, and nodded slowly, as the shaman stared at him. He glanced around at the others, then led off eastward through the jungle.

There was a well-trodden pathway not far from the overgrown circle of standing stones that Tiri had brought them to, and they followed it towards the hills that marked the westernmost boundary of the Innothule swamp. The winding path was narrow, and the undergrowth thick, blocking light and view.

Which was why they nearly ran face first into the guard before they saw him.

The ogre guard drew his sword instantly, and raised it, while Arrek and Merilee drew their own in response, leaping between the guard and the others. Braag stood frozen, his hand on his own weapon, as he stared at his countryman with indecision. He had no desire to fight his own people, but the safety of those with him could depend upon his willingness to do so.

But the guard slowly lowered his weapon, ignoring the trespassers he should have been trying to slaughter. His hand raised up, to lift the visor of his helm, revealing black eyes that stared at Braag with disbelief from a face that was an older version of the shadowknight's own.

"They said you were dead." The guard's voice held a tremor. "Ambassador K'Ryn said so yesterday. Told everyone. Masters all happy."

"Droog!" Tiri pushed forward, between the froglok and the half-elf, and reached for the ogre guardsman's hand. He looked down at her, and sheathed his sword, suffering her touch. Slowly, Arrek and Merilee lowered their own weapons.

"Droog..." Braag took a step forward, staring at his older brother.

"They think you dead. You stay dead this time." Droog glanced at the group. "I not see you. I not see them. I not tell what not see. Go quick-quick, before Hurd come to take my place." Once again he raised his eyes to the face of the brother he had not seen since Braag had fled the jungle so many years before.

Arrek and Merilee stepped aside as Droog took a step forward, and put a gauntleted hand on his brother's shoulder, giving Braag a slight shake as if to assure himself he was real. He smiled suddenly. "You look good for dead guy. She good for you." Snapping his visor back down, he hurried away down the path, without looking back.

* * * * *

They descended the hills, into the misty greenish brown of the swamp. Braag called a halt when the first open water appeared before them. He glanced upward at the sun, then nodded. "We can rest here, and eat, before we get into the rough travel."

The others nodded, exchanging glances, for the ogre had been silent and withdrawn as he led them across the hills that separated the jungle from the wide expanse of swamp and marsh called Innothule. They gathered together on a dry hummock, and ate a cold meal from their packs.

Arrek, as always, finished long before the others, and took a few steps away, squatting to look out at the swamp pensively.

"Well, that was a stroke of luck, you know," Merilee said, growing tired of watching the others watch each other. "Meeting Droog, I mean."

Braag looked at her, frowning.

She smiled at him. "Braag, they think you're dead again. This means you're safe, if you play your cards right." Merilee dusted the crumbs of her meal from her lap. "Droog had the best advice for you. Stay dead. So long as you don't bring yourself back to their attention, the dark elves won't be looking for you anymore. Droog kept your secret once already. I'm pretty sure he'll keep it again."

The shadowknight nodded slowly,. "Droog has always watched out for me," he said quietly. "Family is important to my people. We don't war with each other, we stick together. The gods may have cursed us, but we will not fall down and die for them." He lapsed back into silence.

"Braag, you're better than this. Think about it. You know where he patrols now, right? How hard do you think it will be to get a message to him now and then, to arrange a meeting or something?" She grinned as his eyes lit up. "He's not an idiot. I'll bet you any amount he'll arrange to keep the same patrol area so you can find him."

"Don't forget, too," Tiri said to him, reaching out to hold his hand, "That he's not your only family." She smiled up at him. "You can skip my huge extended half, if you want, but you should at least include Meri." She smiled again as he winced at the thought of including a plethora of wood elves in his genealogy.

"And with me, you get a good chunk of the city of Qeynos..." The bard laughed. "My father comes from there..."

The ogre grimaced again. "You're not making things better," he pointed out. "I really don't need family that wants to kill me. I have enemies enough for that."

"Well, the enemies should be content for now...so long as you keep quiet." Meri glanced over at Arrek, who was still lost in thought. "I'm just glad that they're as narrow minded as they are. They can't conceive of people not thinking of themselves first."

Braag nodded, his own eyes lingering on the froglok. He glanced up again at the sun. "If we're ready, let's get moving. We have a ways to go, and it'll be hard going," he announced, standing up.

"And boggy. Be careful, there's a lot of quicksand out this way. One of our least favourite patrol areas." Arrek stood up, and carefully squeezed the air out of his oddly-constructed pack, doing up the seals. "I hope you're all waterproof."

"There's a reason I prefer to swim across," the froglok muttered half to himself, as he reached a hand down to Ferret, helping him across a bog.

"Mud is a pain." The gnome nodded, but saved his breath for travel. He wasn't particularly enjoying his first real foray into the huge swamp the frogloks called home. Skirting the edges was one thing, but this was a nightmare.

Arrek and Korgoss had less trouble than the others, but the going was rough for all of them. The western edge of the swamp was not a kindly place. The two took turns in leading the way, and helping the others to cross the misleading ground. What seemed solid was far more likely to be dangerous than the stretches of open water, but only once did either of them err in their choice of direction. Korgoss hauled himself out of the shallow bog with an embarrassed expression, but none of them thought to laugh.

Their path led them farther north than they had expected, as they detoured around the worst of the quicksand. It was Arrek's turn to lead, and he had paused as his long toes felt the change in the ground ahead of him. He moved along the edge of what seemed to be an impressive patch of quicksand, likely a channel that had silted in. His practised eyes picked out the subtle changes between the solid land, and the water-saturated silt.

Movement ahead of him caught his attention, and the froglok looked up, to see a figure across the bog from him. The human was staggering, obviously injured, and was heading straight for the quicksand.

"Stop!" Arrek called urgently. "Stay still!" The man's head lifted, and he stumbled forward, almost excitedly. "No! Stop! You're about to walk into a bog!" The froglok raised his hands, stepping forward himself, feeling his foot sink into the mud. "We'll work our way around to..." He winced, as the stranger plunged into the quicksand. He dropped his shield and backpack behind him, and removed his sword belt and cloak as well, as the others came up to join him. "Stay here," he told them. "I'll get him out."

"It is wide. There may be deep places," Korgoss called, as Arrek waded into the mire. Arrek raised his hand in acknowledgement as he sank to chest level, and continued to move forward with a slow, purposeful swimming motion.

"Stay still, friend," the froglok called to the human, who was thrashing weakly, as he sank in the thick soup of silt and water. "Don't move. Trust me, it'll make it easier on both of us. Spread your arms out, as if you were floating in water." Arrek shook his head as the stranger thrashed harder at the sound of his voice, sinking deeper in the quicksand. At least he was also propelling himself closer to the middle of the bog, which meant that Arrek would reach him a little quicker.

The group watched the froglok's progress. He was nearly half-way to the entrapped man, his slow motions moving him steadily through the mire, but they gasped in horror as he suddenly disappeared beneath the surface.

Braag felt his heart lurch as the froglok vanished, and he took an involuntary step towards the edge of the bog. He measured the distance with his eyes, then turned quickly to the troll.

But Korgoss was shaking his head, a look of amusement in his eyes, as he watched the spot where his friend had sank from view. "He was warned," the shaman said dryly.

The others stared at him in disbelief, then turned again towards the quicksand, where they watched Arrek's head emerge from the semi-liquid in slow motion, as the froglok floated back to the surface.

When Arrek's shoulders emerged, he slowly freed a hand, and wiped his eyes.

"That would be a deep place," Korgoss called helpfully, and smiled as the froglok glared at him before continuing his slow pace towards the human.

The man had sunk until just his face was above the surface, and terror finally accomplished what Arrek's words had not, as the man - rigid with fear - held himself perfectly still. As he lay there, his eyes tightly shut, he slowly rose back up, until he lay floating on the surface of the quicksand.

"Good, that's what you need to do," Arrek said, as he reached the man. "Spread your arms and legs out, too."

"Please, help me..." the stranger whispered.

"That's why I'm here. It's not nearly as bad as you think. Trust me. I hear some humans pay for this sort of thing." Slowly, the froglok fell backwards, and let his feet float to the surface. He got a good grip under the man's armpits, and spread his webbed toes wide. With a strange swimming motion, using only his feet in a slow, circular paddle, he gradually towed the stranger back to his waiting friends.

Eager hands reached down to help them from the slurry of silt and water to solid ground.

"He's hurt, too," Arrek told them, as he scraped the mud from his face and arms. "We'll need to get this stuff off him." He looked over at the person he had rescued, who was staring up at Tiri and Korgoss as they bent over him

"Please, I need your help," the stranger said. "You must tell them..."

"Take it easy," Tiri told him. "You'll be able to tell ‘them' yourself. We'll get you healed up..."

"They have taken him, you must tell the Brotherhood. The Witnesses of Hate have arisen, and they have my brother."

Arrek jerked, and turned to stare at the stranger. "The Witnesses of Hate? Outside of Guk?"

"They have made an exit for themselves," the human said weakly. "Please... you must help me tell the Wayfarer's Brotherhood."

"Wayfarers... I've heard of them. They've set up camps scattered across the lands, and call people to them." Merilee nodded. "There's supposed to be a camp near the desert, to the north."

"What is your name, friend?" Tiri asked, as she attempted to clean away the black mud that covered the man, to see the extent of his injuries.

"Marrus," he said, gasping as she found one of his wounds with her probing.

The druid shook her head. "We need open water, before we can do anything here," she said, frustration in her voice. "We've got to get him clean."

Arrek nodded grimly. "We will need to hear his story," he said. "I'll find a way around this mess." He picked up his gear, and continued along the edge of the bog, shedding mud as he went.

When he returned to them, he was mostly clean of it, and he led them to a solid island, with the dark waters of the swamp all around it. They waded out to it, pausing in the middle to rinse the mud from the man who called himself Marrus, before settling on the island.

Once cleaned of the mud, his healing could begin in earnest, and the druid and shaman bent their wills to the task, while the others set up camp. The camp was ready before the two were finished, but at last they brought the stranger to the fire.

The man named Marrus was slim, with dark hair, and brown eyes. The clothing he wore was torn, and stained with the black mud of the silted-in channel.

He was helped to a seat near the fire by Korgoss, who supported the human's shaky steps. Exhaustion marked the young man's features as he sank down, looking up at the troll with a grateful nod.

"Thank you all," Marrus told them. "I was expecting to die in this swamp." He looked around at the group, who were awaiting his words, seemingly unfazed by the strange mix of races before him. "My brother Devin is one of the Brotherhood, and he was leading me to their camp, from the Portal to the north of Gukta," he began. "He was taking me through the swamp, when we were attacked by frogloks... but to my knowledge I have never angered the people of Guk... or of Gukta." He nodded to Arrek, who hung on his words.

"They were eerily silent... never a word, or a cry, even when we fought back. But they were many, and strong. We broke away from them, and ran for our lives, and they followed. We managed to evade them, but could hear them seeking us, and my brother cast a spell on me, and hid me in a tree. He told me to get to the Wayfarers, and tell them that the Witnesses of Hate had arisen, and then he left me there, and ran, leading them away. The frogloks passed me by, they did not see me, due to the magick Devin had used, and because they are not used to looking up in trees, I suspect." He swallowed. "I saw them dragging him back, and... and I waited for them to pass... then I followed. I lost them near a great hollow tree trunk." He lowered his eyes. "I don't know if he's still alive. I don't know where the Wayfarer's camp is, or where I am, or who these strange frogloks are... but they have my brother."

"I do know who they are. And where that tree is." Arrek's voice was very soft. He lapsed into silence, and stared into the fire.

"Who are these ‘Witnesses of Hate'?" Braag asked him, and breathed inward sharply as the froglok raised his head to look at him, a look of great pain and sorrow on his face.

"They are the reason for the deepest of the hatred between my people and the trolls," Arrek said at last, bowing his head. Braag looked at Korgoss, to see a similar look of pain adorning the troll's face. Neither would look at the other.

"Tell them," the shaman said gruffly, after a time, and stood. Slowly he turned from the fire, and took a few steps away, to sit against a tree, and stare outward at the swamp. Evening was bringing its shadows, and the troll watched them creep over the islets and waters that spread out before him, as he listened to the voice of the friend he loved tell his story. He looked up as Merilee came to sit beside him, leaning against him as she listened to the froglok.

"Grobb was not the first city we took from the trolls," Arrek began. "Long ago, Guk, too, was theirs. We were their slaves, and their prey. But the trolls have many factions, and they were ever at war with their own. There was a great battle, between two rival clans, which left both decimated. And we rose up, and took our freedom, and slew those who had survived, and claimed the city for ourselves."

The froglok's voice was mesmerising, and the others made no sound as they listened, although they glanced often at the troll, who sat now with his head lowered.

"But the trolls did not take the fall of their city well. Among them was a powerful shaman, who followed the ways of Hatred. He worked his way into the city by stealth, until, deep within the lower caverns, he performed a ceremony that caused a blight and curse to spring up all around him. It killed him in the process, but he succeeded at his work. Through the power of Innoruuk, he stole the souls of all those who were within range of the curse, and raised our fallen as undead, powerful ghouls that served only Hatred, and that existed only to slaughter. The soulless ones, not truly undead, but yet, not living, were there to maintain the curse, by feeding it with the souls of those that were slain by the ghouls. These are the Witnesses of Hate." Arrek looked up at last. "They still hold the lowest levels of the city. Gukta sends its own to aid our cousins in Guk against them. And many of us fall there." Arrek stood up, walking around the fire as he continued. "If they have found a way to the surface, into the swamp, then no one, not any of our races, is safe. They seek nothing but death for all that they touch. And they spread death around them by their very existence." The froglok reached out to rest his hand on the shaman's shoulder. "And you would have to be very, very old, Kor, for anyone to be able to blame you for any of it. Let alone me."

Korgoss looked up at him, and the question in his eyes was answered by the love that shone in Arrek's own.

* * * * *

With the first light of morning, the group, and Marrus with them, were away, heading northward. The need to get the word to those who required it was far more important than Arrek's desire to speak to his Master. All of them had been affected by the froglok's words, and there had been no discussion at all about the day's activities.

As they moved north, they left the bogs behind them, entering an area of mostly open water, studded with islets. Arrek led them here, through the shallower water, where all but he and Ferret could wade.

The rogue eyed the first such crossing, and sighed, ensuring his gear was well secured for the swim. But as he stepped forward, he felt himself plucked from the ground, to be set up on Braag's shoulder. Even at the deepest point in their crossing, the water did not rise above the ogre's waist, and the gnome found himself the driest member of the party.

It was not long before Ferret realised he had the opportunity he had been seeking, and he leaned forward, as he clung to the shadowknight, to speak softly into his ear. Braag's step slowed, as he listened, until he finally stopped where he stood, up to his knees in the black waters of the swamp. It was only a momentary pause, before he continued following the froglok, and none of the others noticed it, but the rogue reddened, and stared outwards at the twisted trees, certain he had overstepped himself. Braag's continued silence did nothing to ease the gnome's worries.

Without the hindrance of the bogs, and with the speed of their passage enhanced by Korgoss's magick, they made a good distance before they needed to stop, and rest.

Braag crouched, and the rogue nimbly leapt down from his perch. Ferret glanced upwards at the ogre, but the shadowknight's eyes were unfocused as he stood, lost in thought. Subdued, the gnome found a comfortable spot on the thick moss, and dug some of his travel food from his pack.

They rested, and ate together, sharing their meal with Marrus, who had nothing save the clothing he wore. There was little speech, as each sat lost in their own thoughts, watching each other.

Braag's eyes travelled from one of his companions to another, as he pondered what the gnome had told him. Tiri's eyes met his, and he smiled at her, feeling the warmth in her gaze as if it were a caress. She smiled back, then spoke to Arrek, who sat beside her. The froglok had already finished his meal, swallowing his rations nearly whole, and he looked up at her as she spoke, then turned to look at him. He, too, smiled at the shadowknight, and turned back to Tiri to make a comment.

The ogre had no idea what they were saying about him, and did not care, for again the truth he was unwilling to accept had been shown to him, as he found equally as much warmth in the froglok's eyes as in those of his wife. It had been told to him outright, in the heartfelt words the rogue had offered. Think with your heart, Korgoss had said. A dangerous recommendation to those who followed his path. For his heart could not be permitted to rule his head. No matter how much the strange companions he had accumulated loved him. Or how much he loved them.

And yet, love was not mentioned in the Oaths he had sworn. It was neither forbidden, nor acknowledged in any way. Braag sighed. Tiri had started it all, started him sliding down that slope. He wasn't sure what awaited at the bottom, but his heart told him that he would not be alone there when he hit it.

Abruptly, he packed away the remnants of his lunch, and leaned forward. "How quickly can we get to the camp of these ‘Wayfarers'?" he asked Arrek.

The froglok frowned. "At the speed we're going, we should be out of the swamp by nightfall. I don't know where the camp is, though. Meri will have to lead us from there."

"And how far from the edge of the swamp is this tree you mentioned?" Braag scratched his nose, as he thought.

"It's … maybe halfway between here and there," Arrek said, after a moment of thinking. "But it's not in line with the way we travel, we would have to head west to find it." He looked around at the group. "And we must carry Marrus's word to this camp. Although I would also wish to bear it to Gukta. The High Council must be told of this."

"Arrek, would we be able to stand against these creatures, ourselves?" The ogre watched the froglok, who studied first him, then the others before answering.

"I think we could," he said finally. "It would not be easy, they are formidable opponents, and have many dark magicks." He cocked his head at the ogre, who was nodding. "I would be willing to try."

"As would I," Tiri said quietly. "Someone must go in, and we have the advantage of being ready now, as well as knowing where the place is." She nodded to Arrek. "As well as what to expect." She looked around the group herself, and saw no dissenting faces. "Let's go quickly, then, and get Marrus where he needs to go."

"You will go in to find Devin?" the man asked in surprise. He stared at Braag. "How can I thank you? This is too much to hope for from passing strangers!"

"Thank Arrek," the ogre said, and smiled as the froglok stared at him, but he said no more, and stood to shrug into his pack. He watched the others preparing to move, and saw the gnome putting away his travel-food nearly untouched.

Ferret was finishing tying the closures on his pack when the ogre came to stand beside him, looming over him. His hands faltered with the knot, but he didn't look up. "Look, Braag... I..." the rogue began, reddening again.

The shadowknight's armour creaked in protest as he hunkered down as low as he could. With one finger, he gently raised the gnome's chin, until Ferret was forced to look at him. The gnome's eyes were nearly as dark as his own, and he held their gaze for a moment, then smiled slowly. As Ferret's eyes widened, he released the gnome and straightened again.

"If you change your mind about your lunch, don't be dropping any down my neck," the ogre said, and waited for the rogue to finish closing and donning his pack, before scooping him up and depositing him once more on his shoulder.

As they set off again northward, the shadowknight felt the gnome's arm slide around his neck for a moment, as the rogue changed grips. And if his own hand rose to touch Ferret, as he made the transition from the islet to the water, it was, of course, only to keep him from tumbling off.

They travelled steadily again, not speaking, moving from islet to islet, avoiding deeper water, trying to move as straight northward as was possible. Every so often Arrek would stop, to look about and judge his position before leading them off again.

It was on one of these pauses that, from his perch, Ferret's keen eyes picked out a figure wading up onto the shore of one of the islets. It paused there, removing its helmet, and stretching.

"Arrek, there's an armoured froglok up ahead. I dunno if it's one of those Witnesses, or what, but…" He pointed. "Over that way. Two islands over."

"Armour? Is there a coloured sash?"

Ferret looked again. "Bright green," the rogue confirmed.

Arrek nodded. "That would be one of the Shin Guard. We're not far from a patrol path here. What colour is the guard, can you tell?" Arrek craned his neck, but couldn't see the other froglok.

"Kinda yellowish-green with speckles. He's got his helmet off, and looks like he's takin' a break."

Arrek nodded, then looked at the others around him. "She. Unless they've changed the roster, I know her. This could solve a problem. You two hide, and I'll call her over. Marrus, please don't say anything about Kor or Braag. Most of the Guard tends to be rather single minded in their …err… interactions with trolls and ogres. I should know. I served with them a while."

He watched, as Braag took the gnome from his shoulders, and set him down, before vanishing. Korgoss had cast his own spell before Arrek had finished speaking. The froglok waited a moment, to ensure they were ready, then tilted his head back. His throat swelled, and a strange deep call resonated from him. He waited a moment, then repeated it.

It was only a minute before the green-sashed froglok – once again wearing her helmet – emerged from the water in front of them.

"Irnalig," Arrek said. "It's been a while." He extended his hand to the newcomer.

"Arrek! We missed you this spring. Gurlsa and I were looking for you. She said you were her first choice." The strange froglok clasped hands with him, grinning widely. Her grin faded, though, as the expression on his face registered. "What's wrong? Why did you call me?"

"Irnalig, you have to get the word to Gukta. Tell them the Witnesses of Hate are free in the swamp." The guard recoiled in disbelief. "Trust me, Irn. I'm not making this up."

"I know you, Arrek, it's just that…" she shook her head. "How did they get out? I thought we kept them bottled below, in Guk?"

"Apparently they've found a way. Remember that fallen tree that was used by the trolls as a base? They've apparently dug their way out somewhere around there." Arrek gestured vaguely to the west.

"Damned trolls… there are always a few over there, too. I was heading that way to clear them out. Do you think they're responsible for the Witnesses breaking out?"

Arrek was silent a long moment. "I don't know," he said at last. "There are many who follow Hatred, especially now, when they have gone to Neriak. And those who hate so strongly will do anything, regardless of the
cost. They want us dead. What matter if they die in the process?"

"What process?" A second froglok in the same uniform as Irnalig emerged from the water, to stand beside her. "Arrek? Was it you who called us?"

"Gurlsa? Are there any more of you out today?" Arrek stared at her in surprise.

"No, we're short handed these days. Coming back to join us?" She smiled at him.

He shook his head, but it was Irnalig who spoke. "Gur, the Witnesses are out."

Gurlsa stared at her companion in horror. "That's impossible!" She turned to Arrek. "You've seen them?"

"No, but he has. And his story rings true, Gur. We need to get word out. And… I need you to do something for me. Irnalig will carry the word to Gukta… But someone else needs to know too."

"What? Who?" The two guards turned to him with frowns. "Our responsibility is to Gukta, Arrek." Irnalig shook her head. "Not to some…"

"Not this time," Arrek interrupted. "Your responsibility is to Marr, and the world. If they are free, then no one, no one is safe." He indicated Marrus.

"This man needs to get to the Wayfarer camp by the desert, to tell them what he saw. They apparently have some interest in this, and can help us."

"Mercenaries!" Irnalig said dismissively. "What can they do?"

Merilee stepped forward, speaking suddenly. "They can fight. And pass word quickly. There are many of them, spread across the world. They are said to have strange magicks." The two Shin Guards looked around at the others for the first time, measuring them, as the bard continued. "And I don't think they fight for money, Lady Shin."

Shin Irnalig examined Merilee, then nodded. "And what will you be doing, then?" She asked Arrek.

"Marrus's brother, one of these Wayfarers, was taken. How long do they normally keep prisoners, Irn?" Arrek asked softly. "If he lives now, it will not be for long. They only take the living when they have a special need for sacrifice. Otherwise, they just kill."

Irnalig stared at him, then looked at the group. "I don't think you have a chance, Arrek. Only four of you against the cursed undead that have stalked us all these centuries? You have lost your senses… but I will carry the word to Gukta." She took a step backwards. "You were a good companion, Arrek. I will pray to Marr for your soul." She turned, and leapt into the water, kicking out strongly, as she headed south-east, bearing her message.

Gurlsa watched her go, then turned back to Arrek. She studied him for a moment, then gazed around at the group. "Tell your friends to come out," she said to him after a moment. "I know you far better than she does, and you are not a fool."

Arrek shook his head. "That would not be in anyone's best interest, Gurlsa."
She cocked her head, then nodded in understanding. "I give my word, Arrek. I'll not harm them. I just want to see what you are taking down there with you."

Arrek swallowed, then again shook his head. "Please, Gur…" He opened his mouth to speak again, but her eyes had focussed over his shoulder, and widened. He sighed, and turned.

"Go with her, Marrus," Braag said, nodding at the guard. "She will take you to your brother's people." The ogre bent to lift the gnome to his shoulder once more. "We will try to find Devin."

Gurlsa's eyes widened again, as the air beside the ogre shimmered, and Korgoss appeared. He examined her, then spoke a word, and gestured.

Marrus blinked, as he felt the magick enter him. The troll turned to the Shin guard, and paused a moment, before repeating the spell on her. She had stiffened as he began his spell, but relaxed again when she felt the familiar effect of fleetness. He, too, nodded to her.

"Go quickly," he said. "They could help us."

She took a step, looking to see if the human was following her, then looked back.

"One of these days, Arrek, we're going to have to have a talk." Gurlsa eyed him, then smiled slightly. "This is one story I want to hear." She glanced again at the troll and ogre. "Very much want to hear."

Before he could form a reply, they were gone, speeding through the shallow water northward, toward the edge of the swamp, and the green hills that held the sands of the desert at bay.

* * * * *

"Must be inside," Braag said, peering into the huge hollow of the tree. "There doesn't seem to be anything outside, except for those trolls."

He looked back, watching as Korgoss healed Merilee of the bruises the attacker's club had given her. The shaman himself had struck down the one that had attacked the bard, and it had died, amazement on its face as it saw its killer. Arrek had turned to meet the second, and had dealt with it efficiently, before the others knew it was there. His only words had been a quiet comment that the raiding trolls often travelled in pairs.

The froglok came up to stand beside the ogre, his eyes easily piercing the darkness within the immense tree trunk. "There's something about half way down," Arrek said, and stepped over the tangled roots at the entrance. He looked back, to see the others following him.

The wood of the trunk had a gaping hole in it, the bole seemingly torn apart, battered by pounding from below. The shadowknight bent, to touch one of the jagged splinters. "They appear to have been determined to get out," he said grimly. "Shall we go down, and pay them a little visit?"

Without waiting for a reply, the ogre squeezed his frame through the hole, and dropped into the chamber below it.

"Come down," his disembodied voice drifted back up to them. "It's empty."

Arrek followed him through the hole, and felt Braag's hands catch him by the waist, and set him down. He nodded his thanks, then drew his sword, and stepped towards the only other exit from the chamber, to peer down it, guarding the shadowknight as he helped the others descend.

"Arrek, I know you don't like it, but the extra sword would be useful here." Braag looked at the froglok, who nodded reluctantly.

"Go ahead," Arrek said quietly."The dead fighting the dead makes some sort of strange sense." He watched, as the shadowknight wrought his magick, casting a few chips of dried bone from his belt pouch to the floor, and muttering an incantation. The bits of bone shivered, and cracked, and flew into a million tiny splinters. They swirled in a cloud, which coalesced into a humanoid skeleton. It lifted its head, and turned its empty eye sockets toward the ogre.

Arrek sighed. "At least I'll be able to tell it from the others we'll meet," he said grimly. "It's a lot taller. I'll try not to forget it's there."

"Like last time." The ogre smiled. "Although watching you jump out of your skin and blow it to pieces was amusing." He dug a battered sword from his pack, and handed it to the creature. "Follow," he told it. Obediently, it shambled after him, as they began to descend the passageway.

The tunnel was not long, and descended sharply to another small chamber. Here they met their first opponent.

The ghoul looked up from the fresh corpse on which it was feeding. It paused, a strip of flesh in its hand then rose, and moved toward them with surprising speed. As one, the froglok and the ogre attacked, and made short work of it.

"That wasn't so bad," Braag said, flicking the ichor from his sword. "Let's hope their brains are all rotted." He glanced around the room. "Let's see what it was after." He bent over the fresh corpse. "Another troll. Not who we're looking for." He raised his sword, and beheaded it. "Won't do to have them raise her behind us. I'd rather stick with what's here already." Once again, he looked around the room. "Only one passage again. Looks like it's this way..." He led off again, his skeletal servant following him.

The passages continued to lead downwards, and they moved cautiously, ensuring they cleared the way behind them. It would not do to have to fight again to escape, if they found the human.

"This place is still being dug out," the shadowknight said quietly, stopping to point out the beginnings of another tunnel. "How many of them are there, Arrek?"

"I don't know. Lots. Remember, those who die down here are made to join them," the froglok said, equally quietly. "And the souls of those raised as ghouls go to feed the curse."

* * * * *

"Are you all right?" Braag reached down to help the froglok to his feet. "You got hit pretty hard...."

"Yes... I'll be fine. Just give me a minute." Arrek clutched his ribs, struggling to catch his breath. "Stupid... stupid..." he muttered.

"What happened?" The ogre knelt down, and loosened the buckles on one side of the froglok's breastplate. "You've been dented. Hold still." Braag grasped the offending plate, and slowly bent it outwards again. "That should help." He redid the buckles. "You'll need to get that taken care of when we get out of here."

"Thank you." With the plate no longer pressing on him, he was able to breathe again. "I tried to stun it. I'm going to have to find a Dar, to train from. They get far more specialized training than we... than the Shin do. And maybe I'll stop trying to cast spells in battle." His eyes were full of chagrin.

"You've been doing better than I thought you would," the shadowknight admitted. "I know how much I lean on my magicks when I fight. It must be the same for you."

Arrek nodded. "It was. But I'd better get used to this quickly. If it were only my life at risk, I wouldn't be so worried, but I could kill us all with a stupid error like that."

"Are you all right to keep going?" Braag watched as the froglok measured himself frankly, and nodded again. "Tiri and Kor are going to need a rest soon. We can all take a little break then."

"All right. I'll need one too, before too long, but I'm okay for now." Arrek picked up his sword, and wiped it on the robe of one of the dead ghouls. "Remind me to get a new sword when we get back to civilisation."

Braag opened his mouth, then closed it again. For the first time since they had descended, he took a good look at Arrek's sword.

Once, it had shone with a clear light, but now it was as lifeless as any piece of pot-metal. A sharp piece of pot-metal, admittedly, for it was still a dangerous weapon in the froglok's hands, but the holy magicks that had filled it were gone. Or, if not gone, then hidden, awaiting the touch of the hand of a Sword to awaken them again.

"I'll do that," the ogre said. "I may have one for you, stored somewhere or other. We'll have to see." He stood, then looked around at the others, who were putting themselves to rights after the fight. "All right. We move on. We clear the next room, then take an hour or so to rest. We won't do anyone any good if we are killed after passing out with exhaustion."

Arrek winced as the troll's hands tightened the knot on the bandage. He nodded his thanks, and the shaman patted his good shoulder as he moved to check on the rogue's injuries. Ferret waved him off, and got up to collect his throwing knives from the fallen.

"Okay. Now I've smelled bad stuff before, but this really reeks," the gnome complained, as he fished one of them from a puddle that was oozing from a putrid corpse. "The ghosts ain't so bad. They just disappear. The skellies, they ain't so bad neither... they fall into bones, but these guys, they spray their guts everywhere."

The froglok shook his head, amused despite himself. "Some of them have been down here for a long time, Ferret." He pulled himself to his feet, picked up a broken spear shaft, and used it to flip one of the now-inanimate ghouls.

It fell apart, into bits of bone and shreds of skin. "This is an old one. They dry out after a while." He moved over to another. "This one..." he grunted as he turned the grey-skinned corpse, "is a newer one, but it's been here a bit." He examined it, his eyes growing sad as he looked down on the horror that was once one of his own people. "You can't even tell what the markings were anymore." A medallion around the neck of the dead ghoul caught his eye, and he removed it, and examined it. "It was a priest, once." He brought the medallion back with him, and sat down again, flexing his shoulder under its bandage. He turned the medallion, reading the inscription, before tucking it away into his pouch. One more reason to go home.

"Hey. Check this!" The rogue tossed something towards the froglok, who caught it reflexively. "Nice, eh?"

"Ferret, this came off one of the ghouls?" Arrek held the bracelet the rogue had found, turning it slowly in his hands. The delicately etched piece was studded with gems that shifted colours strangely.

"Yeah. This one." The rogue pointed down at his feet. "My knife broke in its armour, too." He kicked the hilt into a corner. "I'm gonna run out if that keeps up." He looked up as the froglok came to join him, staring down at the corpse at his feet. "Oh, don't touch it!" Ferret recoiled as Arrek crouched down to turn the head of the dead ghoul. The froglok stared at it a moment, then looked at the bracelet in his hand again.

"Here, Ferret. Either you or Braag should take this," he said after a moment, his voice strangely distant. He handed the jewellery back to the gnome. Ferret turned his head away as Arrek poked in the folds of rotting flesh at the ghoul's neck, to find the end of a chain. He pulled on it, removing another medallion from under the ghoul's armour. With a quick jerk, he snapped the chain, then stood. Looking very tired, he went to sit down again, resting his head on his knees.

"Why me or Braag?" Ferret asked at last, looking back down at the corpse, then returning to the rest of them. He offered the bracelet to the shadowknight, who examined it curiously.

"It's magick. It will make you stronger, and faster," the froglok replied without looking up, the odd tone still in his voice. "Either of you could benefit. And I don't want it." Arrek felt an arm go about his shoulders, and he finally raised his head.

They stared at him, for his eyes had a milky white film over them. It slid down briefly as he blinked up at Korgoss, then rose to again cover his eyes, as he once more stood, moving away from the shaman's touch. It didn't seem to interfere with his vision, but Tiri was concerned nonetheless. She took a step to follow him, but Kor caught her wrist.

"No," he said softly, so the froglok would not hear. "Let him be." He watched as Arrek again sat down, a little ways away, and lowered his head back to his arms.

"Kor, there's something wrong with his eyes," she said just as softly. "Didn't you see?"

"He weeps, Tiri," the troll said gently. "It is their way." He tore his eyes from his friend, to look at the druid. "We will go on soon. Rest now, while we can. I will watch him, and talk when he is ready." She nodded slowly, her eyes shifting from the froglok to him, then towards the ghoul. Understanding blossomed on her face. He released her wrist, and she bent to kiss the top of his head, before she returned to sit near Braag, and answer his questions quietly. Kor turned his eyes back to the froglok, waiting for the voice of his heart to tell him when he would not be intruding on Arrek's grief.

Braag stood up, and looked around at the others. Korgoss had gone to join the froglok, and the two were sitting and talking in quiet tones. Merilee, seeing the ogre get up, put her lute back into its case, and drew her sword. Ferret, who had been sitting and chatting with her as she played, nodded to the shadowknight. Braag smiled slightly, when he noticed that Ferret had pulled the sleeve of his tunic down over top of the bracelet that he now wore. The little rogue had had more need of it than he did.

"Get ready, everyone," Braag said. "We've still got a man to find." He watched with satisfaction as they quickly assembled, and indicated their readiness to continue. "Then let's go. That way." The shadowknight snapped an order at his pet, and once again it followed him as he set off down the passage, with the rest behind him.

The next chamber they came to made things difficult. Up to this point, there had only been one real path, although there were many little side rooms, that they had cleared as they passed them. In truth, they had little choice but to slay the creatures that lurked in them, for if they missed one, those creatures quickly made themselves known by the expedient method of attacking them from behind.

However, the next chamber had several exits, leading in different directions. Once the ghouls in the room had been dealt with, they were left with a choice.

"Tiri? Any ideas on which way they may have taken him?" Braag asked, looking at his wife. She frowned, and examined the exits.

"There's been traffic through them all," she said, "and a lot of it. Mostly barefoot frogloks." She stepped carefully into one of the tunnels, and, after making sure there was nothing waiting there for her, looked around. She repeated this with the others, until she bent suddenly, to touch a scuff on a rock.

"This was made by a boot," she said. "Now, I have no way of knowing if he's the only one down here in boots, but so far, even those ghouls who had armour on had no footgear."

"It's never been very popular," Arrek confirmed. "Even the ones I wear do little more than guard my hamstrings. We can't wear coverings on our toes. It literally rubs us to the bone."

"Then we have our path," the shadowknight said. "Let's go."

Any doubts that they had chosen the correct path were lost, as they moved ahead. From the next chamber they could hear the sound of a struggle somewhere beyond them, and the cries of the captive. They fought their way forward, following the sounds, moving as quickly as they could.

They burst into a chamber, relieved to find that they held the only exit. But the scene before them was out of a nightmare.

The twisted roots of trees protruding from ceiling and walls made the room a torturous maze, and through it, fighting for his life, stumbled a human man, wielding a club made by tearing off one of those roots. Behind him, almost leisurely, two ghouls followed. It soon became apparent that they were herding the man - although he was being difficult - towards a crude wooden altar that stood at one end of the room. Several more undead frogloks waited at the edges of the room, watching the goings on.

They had all the time in the world. Devin, for so the human must be, did not, for he was wounded, and tiring. Before long, they would have him, and the little game would end, as they ripped his heart out on the altar as an offering to Innoruuk.

"This is going to be bad," Braag said. "We're going to get them all at once."

"Do we have a choice?" Arrek asked. "He won't last much longer. We've got to get him out of there."

"Then we do it. Get ready." Braag lifted his sword, and took a stance. "Devin! Here! Now!" he shouted, and the head of the human snapped up.

Instantly, he changed his direction, and ran for them with the best speed he could make through the twisted roots. Braag and Arrek stepped apart long enough for him to get by them, before again blocking the exit.

"Who...?" Devin panted, staring at the unfamiliar people around him. Tiri reached for him, and helped him back a little from the chamber entrance.

"We're friends. Your brother sent us. We're here to get you out. And do as much damage to them as we can."

"Marrus?! He made it?" The man was near to collapsing, and Tiri helped him towards the wall, and leaned him against it. She looked him over, then nodded grimly

"He should be safe at the Wayfarer camp at the moment." she said. "I hate to say this, but I can't heal you right now. Once we get through this, though..." She heard the clash of swords begin behind her.

He nodded. "Keep them alive, my lady," Devin said, sinking down along the wall. "We depend on them." His eyes followed her as she turned back to the battle. Still clutching the rough club, he turned slightly, to ensure they had eyes behind them as they fought. They had risked everything to come to his aid. Even if all he could manage was to cry warning if something chose to come up behind them, it could make the difference.

The first ones to fling themselves upon the two at the chamber entrance were the ghouls who had been pursuing Devin. But Braag and Arrek were ready for them, and tore into them with a vengeance. Braag held nothing back, and clove the ghoul he faced with his great sword, laying it out at his feet with only a few strokes. Arrek's face was grim, and his own thrusts sunk home as he fought the second ghoul. It too, fell motionless, and the pair had a moment to breathe, before the room was upon them.

The two held the entrance firmly, refusing to be pushed back by the undead that hammered upon them. The shimmer of magicks surrounded them, healing them, and strengthening them as they required it. They felt the shaman's magicks enter them, and the heard the bard's music ringing out, and were invigorated by the power that filled them.

But the blows they were receiving were not inconsequential. Arrek felt the blow that reopened his shoulder, and reeled, stunned with the pain. He rallied, and struck back, but the damage had been done. His shield arm hung useless at his side. He hoped the healing from his companions would come quickly, but it did not, for Braag, too, had taken a grievous blow, and their attention was on him. He fought on, finding reserves he didn't know he had, until at last he felt the ease of pain brought by the touch of one of the two behind him.

It being a death sentence for the rogue to take up his favoured station behind his opponent, Ferret contented himself with assisting Braag. The size difference between them meant that the gnome could stand comfortably between the ogre's legs, attacking the same opponent, and giving the ogre some defence. Merilee, sword in hand, stood behind Arrek, swinging her sword over his head in rhythm with her songs, and directing part of her attention to slowing the movements of their opponent. The rest of her attention was keeping two of the ghouls from joining the fray. They stood, swaying slightly, as her music locked them into a trance.

It was working. One, then two of the ghouls fell. Arrek and Braag concentrated together on one of their foes, and it, too, fell, making the floor slippery with the fluids that sprayed from its body.

And then disaster struck.

The ghoul wizard was powerful in its magicks, and it broke free of the bard's song, and turned its dead eyes upon the ogre that blocked most of the passage. Its incantation wound tendrils around the shadowknight, and drew to him the lightning that the wizard summoned.

Braag spasmed, as the bolt shot through him, but Tiri stood behind him, and her hand was on him, healing him even as he staggered. Ferret stepped forward, taking, for a moment, the full onslaught of the foes the ogre had faced, so that the druid could heal him.

And the wizard prepared itself to repeat its spell.

Arrek knew the shadowknight would not survive a second such blast. And knew, too, that it was he himself who was the weakest of them all. As a warrior, he had only a fraction of the skill required, until he sought another warrior to train him in the ways he would have to learn. If Braag fell, they would all die.

"I'll deal with the wizard!" the froglok shouted. "Hold my position!" He gathered himself, and leapt, the power of his legs lifting him over the heads of the ghouls that crowded around the entrance, and landing him facing the wizard. It looked at him with its empty eyes and began to work its magicks.

Arrek reflexively flung out his hand in a gesture, but remembered in time, and changed the movement to another leap, that bowled it over. He struck it hard, but it had already completed its spell.

The blast of lightning coursed through the froglok, and he keened in agony, but his sword had found its mark, and the wizard fell, its unholy life ripped away from it. It disintegrated into fragments of bone and ancient flesh, that scattered when Arrek collapsed on them.

* * * * *

Arrek opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground in the familiar Shin practice yard in Gukta. His heart skipped a beat, and he sat up, looking around him.

The small courtyard was empty, save for a single figure, who squatted a short distance away from him, watching him. He recognised his mentor, and winced. The Shin Master's face wore an unreadable expression.

Somewhere, there were others. He could hear voices in the distance, although their words were unintelligible. The colours seemed oddly muted, as if the light didn't touch them properly.

"Looks like you've done it this time, tad." The powerful froglok, still fit and strong despite being past his prime, stood up, and walked over to him. Shin Master Grubbus stared down at the young froglok, then bent down to offer him a hand. Arrek took it, and was helped to his feet.

Arrek looked down at himself. He was clothed in nothing but his breechclout. He looked around at the strangely lit courtyard. "Master Grubbus... how did I get here?" he asked finally.

"You were brought." Grubbus cocked his head, studying his one-time pupil with sad eyes. "Do you hold us so low, tad, that you would abandon Marr, and break your Oath?"

"I have not abandoned Marr, sir." Arrek met his mentor's eyes squarely. "I love Him. I follow Him now, and I always will." He lowered his eyes. "But, yes, I broke my Oath."

"Was it worth it?"

Arrek raised his head, and again met the old froglok's eyes. "Yes."

"So you'd do it again?"

Arrek smiled. "In a heartbeat," he said softly.

"You hold a Sword of the Faceless over Mithaniel Marr in your heart?" Grubbus's voice was incredulous, and Arrek shook his head.

"No, sir. I hold my friend's life higher than my honour," he corrected gently. "My broken Oath doesn't affect anyone but me. Marr has many Shin. I can bear the price I paid. I could not bear to let Braag die forever, not when I had the power to save him."

"Your ‘friend'." Grubbus looked skeptical

Arrek nodded. "My friend. I love him, sir. And all of them. What is my honour worth if those I love must die for it?"

"Does he feel the same?" the old froglok challenged.

"Does it matter?" Arrek countered.

The trainer blinked, then smiled slightly. "Not really." He studied the young froglok again. "Will you go on serving Marr then?"

"As best I can." Arrek looked down at himself again. "Although I seem to be dead." He looked back up at his mentor with a faint wry smile. "Which makes things problematical. Especially if I'm about to lose my soul, too."

The Shin Master laughed. "Don't be so quick to jump to conclusions, tad." Grubbus schooled his features again, although his eyes still twinkled. "So, tell me. What makes you think you're the first Shin to have had ‘unconventional' friends?" Arrek looked at him with surprise. "It happens more often with the humans, though. They tend to be more flexible than we are. That's their greatest strength as a race." The paladin smiled at the expression on Arrek's face. "Breaking that particular part of the Oath seems to be a fairly popular pastime among Shin."

"Sir...? Then... why make us swear it?" Arrek's eyes were wide. "Why have it in there, if you know it will be broken?"

"Because we don't know," Grubbus said solemnly. "Most never do break the Oath in succouring an Enemy. Many who do, cannot bear their disgrace, and abandon Marr entirely to follow other gods, or none. Some will their own deaths to escape their actions. And some... some continue on their paths, keeping the rest of their Oath as best they can, accepting that they have given up their honour, but holding honour nonetheless." He smiled again, still seeing confusion in the young froglok's eyes. "If you had a choice, who would you prefer as a servant? One who follows blindly, and will not stand against an unjust order, and never thinks for themselves, or one who can be trusted to do what they feel must be done, without direction, who thinks about what they do, and is willing to accept the consequences if they err?"

"A test?"

"If you like. Perhaps more of a sifting... tests are deliberate." Shin Master Grubbus smiled again, and stepped back. "Arrek, will you stand as a Bastion against the Darkness, sowing Love where there is Hatred, Understanding where there is Fear, and Truth where there is Error?" The figure of the old knight grew as he spoke, his voice changing from the familiar growl to a clear deep ringing voice that echoed from the walls of the empty courtyard. "Will you give aid to all those who ask it of you, whosoever they may be, and offer aid where it is needed? Will you temper Strength with Kindness, and Justice with Mercy? Will you serve me thus?" Arrek fell to his knees, his heart near to bursting with the love of the One who stood over him, holding a sword that shone as bright as day.

"Ever and always, my Lord," he whispered. The great hand reached down to touch his head, bathing him in blue fire.

"Good. You'd best be getting back, Shin Arrek. Your friends need you."

The blue fire rose higher around him, and the voices in the background drew ever closer, the cry of someone calling his name mixed with the sounds of battle. The voice of his god rose above them as the courtyard faded away.

"And Arrek, remember: some things are more important than others."

Fin