Had William really seen that girl? The question beset him as he and Felix entered the woods. Indeed, they had not seemed natural to her. Such thoughts departed soon, though. They were in a hurry to escape the smoke rising behind them with all due haste. Memories of her beauty were on him, but he was more concerned about the green trees around them. More importantly, how they seemed to grasp for them.

Once or twice, he saw torches in the distance and howls of rage from the satyrs.

The landscape changed, however, as they got further out. There was no stumbling over roots or ducking below clawing tree limbs now. Instead, they moved with astonishing speed. William felt almost as though he was a wind passing through the trees. His feet didn't seem to touch the ground once. His pains and aches, he realized, were gone. When he looked at his hands, the cuts had disappeared. It was a minor miracle in a day filled with them.

He looked at Felix as they moved. "Felix, remind me to erect a shrine to Kiyora when we return home."

"Why?" asked Felix.

"Isn't it obvious?" asked William. "She is some spirit or deity. I have to repay the debt, even if Elranor was the one who sent her." And he wouldn't mind looking at her again.

"All right," said Felix, "I won't let you forget."

They came out of the trees and found themselves on the bank of a river. The same river William had seen on many maps but had yet to honestly know how large it was. It stretched a considerable distance across. He knew at once that crossing it would be a challenging feat.

Yet size didn't matter much to him as he and Felix went down to the banks and drank. The water was heavenly on William's lips, and he thought nothing would ever be as good. When their thirst had been quenched, they immersed themselves in the shallows. They washed the dirt and grime that had covered them from their bodies.

Finally, they waded out, dripping wet. William felt very foolish as he tried to get some of it out of his hair. Felix did not even bother, his red eyes peering carefully at the water. "We should keep moving, Felix; the satyrs will come after us sooner or later."

"Which way?" asked Felix.

"This river is called Savior's Run," said William. "I'm not sure why it is named so, some local legend, I think. It runs through the center of Seathorius. Then it heads through the elven reservations and Antion into the Ghost Mountains. If we follow it north, we should be able to find the shore. From there, we might create another campfire and hope for rescue."

"Or wait to be recaptured," said Felix. "What are our other options?"

William considered the question. "Kiyora said there are dwarven settlements along the other side of the river. If they aren't friends of the satyrs, we might find shelter with them. Provided we can find a crossing place, of course."

"So we can head north and hope to find the shore and a crossing," said Felix. "Which way is north?"

William looked around silently. "I have no idea."

"Fine," said Felix, "pick left or right, and we'll go that way."

"Right," said William before beginning to walk.

Their going along the river was easier than before. It's too easy for William's liking, actually. The once hostile lands now seemed to conspire to aid them. He felt like some power was flowing through him and Felix, driving them on to swift progress. He began to suspect that it had much to do with Kiyora.

They came to a place where the water was far lower so that they could see the stones of the riverbed. On the far side of the river was a watchtower. It was built in front of a hill with an exposed rock side. A dwarf was perched on it, holding a bow and scanning the surrounding area. A dwarf boy was sitting at the tower's base, and he looked up with interest. As they approached, the archer notched an arrow.

"Halt!" he barked. "Who goes there?! Stand and give an account of yourself!"

William stopped at the bank's edge and raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I am William Gabriel, son of Duke Vanion Gabriel. My companion and I washed ashore and were captured by satyrs. We escaped captivity and now seek shelter. Will you aid us?"

"That isn't my decision to make." called the lookout. "Cross the river and wait by the tower. Gunthred, go get Bjorn, will you?"

"Yes, uncle," said the boy before scampering off. He disappeared into the side of the hill. Where had he gone? He was there one moment and was gone the next. It must have been magic, but what type?

"Come, Felix," said William. "I'll be glad to get onto the other side."

"Fine," said Felix, "let's go."

The two of them waded into the water tentatively. It was deeper than it had looked and soon reached up to their waists. It got higher still as they went on, and soon it reached William's neck. The water was cold, and the current against him was more challenging to fight against. Finally, looking at his friend, William realized it had reached Felix's chin. They moved slowly, trying to stay on their feet with the current working against them.

A loose stone gave way beneath William's foot, and he fell forward to splash into the water. He was struggling beneath the surface in the river's icy cold for a moment. Then he emerged from it, only to find himself being dragged downstream. Fighting to stay above the waterline, William saw the lookout coming to the edge of the bank with a rope. It was hurled into the water.

"Grab hold!" cried the dwarf.

William swam against the current as best he could and snatched for it. But, unfortunately, it slipped past his fingers. He beat his way forward furiously before grabbing it with one hand. Then, pulling himself ahead, he got back onto the ford and made his way along. Felix came up behind him and grasped the rope. Soon, the two of them reached the edge of the river. They emerged soaked and dripping wet, and William found himself shivering.

"Are you all right?" asked the dwarf.

For a moment, William could not speak. "Fine..." he gasped at last. "Thanks to you."

There was a familiar hollering, and William looked up. On the far side of the river stood Doltier, and with him were many other satyrs. Suddenly, there was a horrific presence in the air. The same shadow that William had seen on the ship passed overhead. The waters began to lower down to ankle height. The satyrs moved forward with a terrible battle cry. They waved their weapons as they charged forward.

Then came the dwarves out of the side of the hill, carrying bows and arrows and clad in leather armor with skull caps. They formed ranks, and one shot an arrow straight past Doltier's ear. Or at least it would have had Doltier not caught the needle in one hand and snapped it between his fingers. Even so, he called his warriors to a halt.

There was a tense silence between them. Then, finally, Doltier snarled something in the satyr's tongue. An immense dwarf with braided white hair and a bald head came forward. He was clad in hide leather and had a sword at his belt with a cloak all around him. He shouted something back in a hoarse, old voice. Doltier waved his scimitar. The dwarf motioned to his archers while responding sternly.

The conversation went on for some time. Eventually, Doltier lowered his weapon. The satyr motioned to his fellows, and they withdrew back into the woods. There was a long silence as the dwarves began to discuss matters among themselves. William sneezed while they were doing it, and they all looked up, startled.

The dwarf who had spoken with the satyr came forward. "The satyrs and we have a truce. They have agreed not to pursue you so long as you remain with us."

William breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. We saw seven of your people slain and devoured by those creatures and were afraid they would do the same to us."

"Seven?" asked the dwarf. "What was-" he trailed off as he looked at William. He felt suddenly as if his entire being was being gazed through.

"You are blessed by Queen Yagos. I am sure of it. But, something about your eyes," He turned to Felix. "And you, you have seen her as well, yet I sense the darkness in you. The touch of a demon is on you."

William looked up at Felix in shock. "What is he talking about, Felix?"

"I'm a Calishan," said Felix with a shrug. "My people worship a demon god. We make temples for his children. There has been a lot of intermingling."

"Yes." said the dwarf. "I can see it. You have in you the blood of Baltoth."

"What?" asked William, hardly able to believe it.

"I am Bjorn Houndslasher," said the dwarf. "High Priest of Queen Yagos. You are both more than welcome to share our table as honored guests. We are holding a great celebration once we honor some of our elders' ascension. Thus-"

William sneezed again.

"-I am certain I could arrange for you to be clothed in dry garments first, of course," said Bjorn. "Men, stand watch and be on the lookout for any more satyrs. You two follow me."

Bjorn led them to the side of the hill and tapped one hand against it. There was a strange sensation as if a gateway was opening, yet William could see nothing that had changed. Then Bjorn motioned to them and passed through the wall.

William looked to Felix. "Do you think it is an illusion?"

"That seems quite likely," said Felix before stepping forward and passing through.

William sneezed again and followed Felix. There was an odd sensation. William felt as though he was passing through something physical. This was no ordinary illusion. There seemed to be an unnatural substance on the walls he was walking through.

He emerged into a dimly lit hall built inside the hill. It was toasty warm within, and the heat was a welcome relief. There were ten stone pillars in a circle. Around them was a series of fires on which many dwarves were cooking. There were boars and rabbits and various birds. The smell alone made William's mouth water. For a moment, he completely forgot everything else.

"Those roots," said Felix, "come from the tree above this place, don't they?"

William looked up and saw that the ends of many roots were all over the top of the ceiling. In addition, there were several holes that the smoke from the fire was coming out of.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Yes," said Bjorn, straightening out his gloves. "That tree is always above this hall, wherever Seathorius shifts us. It was planted by Queen Yagos herself long ago. Stay right here a moment." He approached a female dwarf with a round face and hair tied over her head. "Moira, I know you are grieving; however, I must set you a task. These two need clothing, and if they do not change out of their clothes, they may catch their death."

The woman did not answer for a moment, her eyes spaced out. Then she jumped. "I will get some for them at once, Master Bjorn," said Moira, bowing low before rushing off.

Bjorn came up to them. "One of my servants. She is not of the Nakmar; we freed her from a satyr prison some years ago. She was close to some of those who ascended yesterday."

"What do you mean by ascended?" asked William.

"I mean, they passed beyond the dream," said Bjorn.

"... I'm not sure I understand," said William.

"Right, you are outlanders," muttered Bjorn. "I believe in outside realms; it is known as death. Moira is from the outside and never fully understood the truth."

"What truth?" asked William.

"Strangely, one blessed by Yagos should know so little of her teachings," said Bjorn. "The Dreaming Goddess teaches us that this world, as we know it, is but a passing dream. A fantasy of sorts conjured up by the minds of greater beings, soon to end and be forgotten. It is no more real for those we call gods than a tale of old legends is for us. Those who die in battle are reborn within the dream. Those who die peacefully pass on and are made real within the true world."

"I see," said William.

After a time, Moira returned with two sets of folded clothes. "These are all I could find at short notice. They were made for some of our slimmer warriors. They might be..." She sniffed. "They may be a bit big."

"Thank you," said William, taking them.

As it turned out, the clothes were rather loose around them, and William needed a belt to make them fit. Even so, getting out of the wet and clinging garments felt heavenly. He looked at his once beautiful clothes somewhat sadly. They were ragged and travel-worn and smelled of mildew. He doubted they would ever be of any use again.

He still sneezed occasionally and began feeling more than a little sick.

Felix's clothes fit him even less, for he was thinner than William by a large margin. Bjorn looked over them. "Well, it is the best that can be managed. All is prepared, and we are to give the bodies of our brothers their last rites now. Will you attend?"

William did not want to. However, neither did he want to offend. "We will."

Bjorn led a procession out of the hill while William and Felix tailed behind. Finally, the bodies of three dwarves were brought up to the top of a mountain. There, they were laid out on the roots of the great tree. And it was then that William saw that the tree's roots were mingled with many dwarvish bones. He felt a surge of horror.

It only deepened as the dwarves turned away and departed.

"Aren't you going to bury them?" asked William.

"We Nakmar dwarves do not bury our dead," said Bjorn. "Rather, we let nature take its course. We allow the beasts of Laevian and Typhos to feast on them so we will not invite their wrath. We mourn those we have been parted from away from the bodies of the fallen."

"But..." William faltered, "Surely they deserve the honor of burning, at least."

Bjorn looked at him strangely. "I have heard that Harlenorians and Calishans bury and cremate their ascended. It is a strange thing to do. Moreover, the ashes of the body cannot be eaten by animals. And in the dirt, they will be of little use."

"It is a matter of respect," said William.

"These are not our brethren," said Bjorn. "They have already left the dream. What remains is a shell, left behind and unmissed. But, come, the feast is soon to begin."

They returned to the hall as the final preparations were made. As they waited, William examined carvings on the wall. Carved into the stone were images of conflict. A shadow hunted in the dark, thirsting for blood. Unholy rituals brought forth monsters from beyond the veil of reality. They were snakelike creatures with scythes for arms.

Then came the girl. She appeared from the light, younger even than William. And where she walked, prisoners were liberated. She gradually got older as he went down the pictures until suddenly, he recognized her.

"Is that Kiyora?" asked William suddenly, things clicking into place.

"Yes," said Bjorn, "though we do not call her by that name often. The Dreaming Goddess came to us hundreds of years ago and helped us with many things. At first, her aid was small, finding lost livestock and such. She was very young then. Yet, as time passed, her powers became greater. And the deeds she performed became more extraordinary still. And she grew older, though she was slower to do so than even elves.

"Each time she appears, she is older. The real world, it seems, has a different time from our own." He paused as a dwarf came to whisper in his ears. "Excuse me, I must greet some other visitors."

As Bjorn departed, William looked to Felix. He remembered what Bjorn had revealed. Felix was related to Baltoth the Inexorable. And Baltoth, the most terrible enemy Harlenor had ever known. "So when were you going to tell me about your heritage?"

"Never," admitted Felix, "my great, great grandmother was a consort of Baltoth. He has a harem numbering in the thousands, counting his living concubines. It doesn't make me anything special."

"...All right," said William. "I'll say nothing to anyone." The demon god's depravity was well known. William wasn't going to judge Felix based on who his great-grandparents were. Soon enough, Bjorn returned, and with him came many other dwarves. They were led by a black-bearded dwarf who wore a crown of silver. His clothes were a sturdy make with a lot of furs. He eyed William and Felix doubtfully.

"Bjorn, who are these?" he asked.

"A son of Baltoth and his servant, nephew," said Bjorn.

Obviously, there had been a misunderstanding. "It is an honor to meet you," said William. "However, Felix is my servant."

Bjorn looked at him oddly, then at Felix. "Is this true?"

"It is a very long story, but yes," said Felix.

"I see," said Bjorn. "Yet I was led to believe that humans had their servants speak for them while they were in an unknown land."

"That is a Calishan custom," said Felix. "With Harlenorians, the custom is for the servant to say nothing. Their masters do all the speaking."

"Would it not be simpler for all to speak for themselves, as we do?" asked Bjorn's nephew.

"Perhaps," admitted William, "but it's a matter of tradition."

"A strange one," mused the nephew. "Yet no matter. I am Wiglaf Houndslasher, King of the Nakmar."

"I am William Gabriel, son of Duke Vanion Gabriel," said William. "My servant is Felix, a close friend of mine."

"I shall be very interested to hear your tale at the feast," mused King Houndslasher.

"Then let us not hold it up any longer," said Bjorn. "Under this house on this day, all are equals and may speak freely."

The dwarves all entered a side passage to gather around long tables. They numbered perhaps several hundred, and those were only the most prominent guests. There were others in other halls, drinking and eating just as merrily. William had a very fuzzy memory of the feast afterward. He remembered drinking delicious drinks and eating fantastic food. Dwarves were making mighty boasts of their heroic deeds.

While they did so, a group of robed dwarves wrote them down. They scratched their writings down with ink and quill on sheets of parchment in one corner. William guessed that these people needed to learn the techniques for making paper.

It was a recent innovation, though. It dates back to the beginning of Andoa II's reign in Antion. Though that was before William was born. Comparatively recent, then.

"Who are those dwarves, writing things down?" asked William.

"They are my priests," said Bjorn. "Among their duties is recording the tales of valor told in this hall. The hope is that future generations might know of their ancestor's greatness."

"I see," said William before he noticed something else. Two statues sat at the far end of the table, sitting in the place of the ruler. He wondered why. Shouldn't the King be seated at the head of the table? He decided it was not polite to ask.

"Tell me," said William, "what day are you celebrating?"

"Long ago," said Bjorn, "those now named Calishans were under the rule of the hated Dust Elves. Under their rule, they invaded Seathorius. As a result, many ancient trees were felled, and the dust elves sought to exterminate satyr and dwarves. So, they built a mighty citadel near the northern borders.

"Yet then Baltoth the Great, the Inexorable, the Mighty, arose from the river and laid low their armies. Then, with his sword in hand, he drove them from Seathorius singlehanded. Then, he rebuked us for our weakness and cursed the castle the dust elves had built.

"To this day, it stands, overgrown and haunted by unholy spirits. That is why we call it Baltoth's Retribution. It forever reminds us of our former weakness." He paused. "Yet there is a rumor, a tale, that there is an artifact of terrible and wonderful power within it."

William could not help but feel the conversation had changed subjects. Despite himself, he was curious. "What is this artifact?"

"A mirror," said Bjorn. "It is said that the one who looks into it will see a perfect truth. That is a perilous thing, indeed. For such a simple thing may break nations. Yet one who looked on themselves with eyes unclouded would emerge far stronger. So it is known as the Mirror of Laevian. Once, I quested for it when I was young."

"Did you find it?" asked William.

"Of course not," said Bjorn. "Or else it would no longer be a rumor. No, I arrived at Baltoth's Retribution after many perils and dangers. I found I could not take one step forward. I forced myself past my terror and got as far as the gate.

"Then I saw a being with wings like a dragon and eyes of blue flame. And a tail with a blade shaped like a crescent moon on it. So I fled, and to my shame, I have never been able to go back. The horror of that place is too intense for mere words to describe.

"Now, I am old."

"Yet surely someone powerful enough will force his or her way in," said Felix.

"They would have to be strong of will indeed." mused Bjorn. "And until a time when such a hero appears, the Mirror of Laevian will remain lost."

"Why wouldn't Baltoth just steal the thing when he sacked the place?" asked Felix.

"I do not know," admitted Bjorn. "He was not a god then. Perhaps some enchantment of the dust elves held him back, and now that he is a god, the mirror seems of little account. But, undoubtedly, he has many other matters to consider as ruler of half the world."

"But what are you celebrating?" asked William, losing patience.

"Oh yes, that was the original question, wasn't it?" asked Bjorn. "We celebrate the day when Baltoth arose from Savior's Run."

"I see," said William, glad to finally have an answer. "Is that why the satyrs didn't attack?"

"A long time ago," said Bjorn 'the satyrs never would have even considered a battle on this day. Yet they have since come under the sway of Melchious. He is a cruel and powerful demon who resides within this land. Years ago, there was actually a battle between us. Since then, we have held our celebrations below ground."

"There are many more dwarves here than before," noted Felix.

"What you see are visitors from many villages," said King Houndslasher. "We have learned to change our passages, so they all meet up on this day. Seathorius is far closer to the Dreaming Goddess than other parts. Thus it shifts and changes with her whims." He paused. "Tell me, what is the tale of your coming here? That alone has gone unspoken."

William remained silent for a moment. "All right, I ought to start from the beginning." It appeared they were in for a very long night.

William told them everything that happened. The words spilled from his mouth in an onslaught. It could have been a more neat and tidy story of the sort Rusara told; he often had to go back and explain points he had missed. He glossed over the battles; they could have been more interesting. Nor was he keen to remember them and had no talent for describing them. The bit that seemed to affect his audience the most was when he mentioned the dwarves the satyrs ate.

"So that was their fate," said Bjorn sadly. "I cautioned them not to cross the river and violate the truce. But, thirsting for an adventure, they would not listen.

"I will hope their next life has a happier end."

William continued his tale. He described his imprisonment and all his attempts to escape on his own. When he came to the appearance of the demoness, everyone seemed very interested. He must have told the story well, and he added a great many details.

"I think I know of this demoness," said King Houndslasher. "A lesser creature that serves Melchious. She came to this realm long ago. She ferries messages between his outposts. There are some on the other side of the river and those dwarves that serve him on this side.

"Sometimes, she commands raiding parties."

"If she serves Melchious, why was she offering to help me escape?" asked William.

"No doubt, they had some use in mind for you," said the King. "They must have created a crisis hoping to strike a bargain to get you out of it. Or perhaps she merely seeks to usurp her master; such things are not uncommon. It is at this stage a question we will likely never hear the end of. Continue."

There was an even greater interest when he got to the parts describing Kiyora. Murmurs of awe were common, and the dwarves writing it all down scribbled faster than was usual. When William was done, Felix was called upon to fully account for his side of events. Felix was far more verbose, dwelling on the glories of combat. His words excited the dwarves. William felt he told the tale far better than he had.

The duel with Doltier, if it could be called that, was made a swashbuckling battle for the ages. This rather than the one-sided affair it had really been. His friend seemed to delight in exaggerations, making for a perfect story. William was perplexed; he had not seen this side of Felix before.

The dwarves certainly liked it. But William noticed Felix skimmed over his escape from the satyrs and looked away. Even so, the dwarves were more excited about the whole thing. As they spoke of it, King Houndslasher seemed to be weighing something on his mind. "It is a good tale. I doubt Kiyora would favor you if it were not true. You have had a terrible journey, and I fear the worst may not be behind you. Seathorius only lets people go easily. Yet something troubles me.

"You seem to hold Melchious in a more personal dread than we do. What is the reason for this?" William opened his mouth to make a flat denial, and somehow, he doubted that the King would call him on it. But it would be a lie, even to himself, and since the dwarves had been so kind, he felt he owed them the truth.

So he told it.