Guelder prepared for the jump, estimating the angle and the momentum, gathering courage. Deep down, she remembered her jump in the opposite direction, across the same crack in the wall, in the same wild shape but at a different level of consciousness. Now it was time to finish the journey she'd started on that moonlit night.

She leapt.

Her claws found no purchase on the wall, but she could still push herself further up by sheer momentum with her hind legs, which was just enough to clear the top. She landed softly on the other side, where Pangur was waiting for her. She dropped the coil of rope from between her jaws, ready to resume her elf form.

Then she noticed the man.

He was alone, wearing breastplate, holding a shield and a bastard sword. Guelder remembered his face. One of the leaders, the one who had stopped her torturers from going all out on her. They'd called him... Akiros? He'd been there when she'd transformed and mauled her guards to death in a blood craze. He'd seen Pangur come for her. And now here he was, facing two leopards, a normal one and a werecreature. Guelder could tell he was calculating his chances. He could probably kill them both with minimal effort. But it would only take a little scratch for the curse to be passed on, and the antidote was hard to come by and dangerous to use.

Guelder flashed her fangs, growling, holding the man's gaze. Pangur did the same. They prowled towards him, closing in on their prey. The man took a careful step backwards. Then another one. Then he turned tail and ran, up one of the bastions fashioned from wood, serving as vantage points. He leapt over the battlements and landed in the trench outside with a thud. As she shifted back to elf form, Guelder could still hear his hurried footsteps, eager to get the hell away from here.

"Let him go!" she whispered to the others through the gap in the wall. "Build a golden bridge for the fleeing enemy. I'll tie the rope in a moment."

Soon enough, the entire team was inside the Stag Lord's fort. Guelder gave a pat to Pangur, while her gaze wandered over her companions, one by one. Her team, before the final stage of her mission. It still never ceased to surprise her.

Four eventful weeks had passed since she’d set out towards the Stolen Lands on Lady Jamandi’s quest, and she'd made quite a few friends along the journey. Now she had five of them by her side, and a few more waiting at Oleg's trading post, ready to celebrate her victory or her wake.

Linzi and Amiri, her first two companions from the road to Restov, were by her side today, and so were two of her clerics, Harrim and Tristian. Their loyalty had even increased after she'd confronted Tartuccio under the roots of the Old Sycamore. The Purple Toad, as Amiri liked to call him, had turned out to be a Pitaxian agent and the mastermind behind the attack on Lady Jamandi's mansion. That didn't surprise Guelder. It made sense for the ruler of Pitax, a country bordering on the Stolen Lands, to hijack Lady Jamandi's endeavour and set up a puppet state for himself in the area. What made absolutely no sense was that, instead of at least attempting to tackle the Stag Lord problem, Tartuccio had busied himself with searching for a mysterious artifact. Alas, Guelder couldn't stop him from delivering it by a portal to Pitax, and he'd dropped dead under the blows of Ginormous before she could get answers from him. Two adventurers who had mistakenly placed their trust in the gnome were now resting and recovering under Jhod Kavken's watchful eyes at Oleg's trading post, officially accepted into Guelder's party.

Also, Guelder had managed to recruit two magic wielders in one go. Even if she'd incurred the wrath of a formidable organisation of Numerian slave traders, and even if the companions she'd gained were troublesome in more than one respect, she felt it had been worth the hassle. Now she had Regongar, a half-orc teenager with considerable strength and magic abilities, not to mention his rowdy nature and unrelenting sexual drive (a drake in a chicken coop, as Linzi fittingly described him), and Octavia, a half-elf beauty somewhere between a rogue and a wizard, obsessed with being the only pretty girl in a party of strapping, unwashed male adventurers. As Guelder was reluctant to cater for this fancy of hers, she'd left Octavia behind at Oleg's, allowing her to make up for many years of malnutrition, and brought Regongar along to the final battle. When the boy expressed his intention to kiss her unconscious after their inevitable victory, she somewhat regretted this decision.

The team's arrival in the Stag Lord's fort remained unnoticed for a while, which made it possible for them to stealthily eliminate a few unsuspecting bandits before they could raise the alarm. While doing so, Guelder discovered another potential ally in the middle of the courtyard, lying in the dust in a makeshift pen, next to a trough of untouched slop.

"Now, this is surprising," she muttered. "I am certain he was not here last time."

"What... what's that?" asked Linzi in a quavering voice, peeking out from behind Amiri's back.

"Something you don't want to get close to," said Amiri. "How about killing it from afar while it's sleeping? Not that I couldn't sort it out on my own, but if any of you squishies gets in melee range, that could end very, very badly."

They noticed too late that Guelder had opened the pen's gate and slipped inside.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Guelder, no!" screamed Tristian. His cry continued in a muffled attempt to protest, as the palm of Amiri's hand stuck onto his mouth.

"You're blowing our stealth, stupidhead!"

Linzi yelped and covered her eyes in horror, unwilling to witness how the heroine of her chronicles would get her arm ripped off by the beast. Harrim remained indifferent. Regongar chuckled to himself, oddly amused by the fact that Guelder apparently found a monster more attractive than him.

Now she was kneeling beside the beast, examining it.

"Good grief," she said softly. "They torment him in so many ways. Why did I think for a moment that the Stag Lord could show kindness to any creature?"

She ignored the world around her, and focused on the owlbear. Her fingers sank into the beast's fur, finding their way down to its skin, and she whispered words of healing. The monster opened its big yellow eyes, and nuzzled her hand with its beak in gratitude. The shortest moment of eye contact was enough to establish a mental link. Guelder usually couldn’t communicate with magical beasts, but this one seemed to be an exception. They had something in common, a link of pain and thirst for vengeance, a shared hatred for the evil man parading in a stag skull. Just enough for them to understand each other. A minute later, Guelder walked out of the pen, leaving its gate shut but unlatched.

"What in the nine hells was that for?" hissed Amiri, finally letting go of Tristian.

"Free reinforcement," said Guelder. "He will join the fight when I ask him to."

"On his own side, I guess," remarked Regongar.

"That will suit us perfectly. We are bound by a common enemy. And he is powerful enough to bear the brunt of the battle instead of us."

"To bear! Hahaha!"

Guelder pretended not to hear the half-orc’s interjection. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on another creature nearby.

"Ouch!" said Regongar, touching the back of his head. "What the fuck was that?"

"A cockchafer," answered Guelder with an innocent smile. "They lose their navigation skills at this time of the year. Especially if they are exposed to bad puns."

"Ah, I see," he acknowledged with a toothy grin.

"You might want to be careful with your puns, Reg. There is a reason why they are called cockchafers."

Guelder waited patiently until the snickers in the team died off, then continued with the briefing.

"The owlbear will support Kressle's renegade bandits at the front, while we attack from the flank. In this way, the chances will be more or less even."

"Are you sure the owlbear understands your strategy?" asked Regongar cheekily.

"Of course he does. If you feel confused, you can ask him for guidance."

And so the battle began with Linzi strumming her lute and starting When the Mist Rises, her new song written in celebration of the recent change in the weather. On cue, Kressle and her companions entered through the main gate and took position in the middle of the courtyard, casting uneasy glances at the owlbear.

"Stag Lord!" shouted the bandit woman at the top of her lungs. "Look who came to pay a visit!"

The doors to the keep opened. Twelve thugs filed out and took position in front of the main building. Finally, the Stag Lord himself appeared. He stepped out onto the scaffolding around the half-painted walls, holding a longbow and an empty bottle (this time, though, it was a potion vial).

"Who dares disturb me while I'm drinking?" he bellowed, tossing the vial behind his back.

"It's high time someone disturbed you!" exclaimed Kressle. "Drinking is the only thing you're good at! Where are your promises of wealth and glory? You did nothing but brought the hounds of Brevoy upon us!"

Guelder gave a silent command to Pangur, directing him towards the stairs leading up to the Stag Lord's platform. Then she stepped forward and joined in the conversation.

"You do not know who I am, Stag Lord," she said. "But I know where you come from and what you became. I suffered at your hands, as did so many others. In the name of justice, I shall cleanse this land from your filth!"

An arrow came as an answer, so fast that Guelder hadn't even seen him nock and aim. Before she realised what was going on, she ducked, her body moving on its own. The missile grazed her hair but didn't reach her scalp.

Then hell broke loose.