“The note did say that you’ll know it when you see it,” said Marina through gritted teeth.

The shaman’s hut was nothing to write home about, but his choice of exterior décor was another matter entirely. There were spiked fences all around, many of the spikes were home to the heads of goblins. Was Chief Groksh’s head desired because he had troubled the shaman or was it simply a way of adding some flair to his already ominous garden?

“You go first,” said Marina.

“Wasn’t that always the plan?” asked Friedrich.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you wanted to try and convince him to pay more for the goblin head.”

Marina gestured towards the many severed, rotten heads that littered the surrounding area. “If you want to try and talk someone capable of this into paying you more kupons, feel free. I certainly won’t be just in case he decides to add my lovely head to his collection.”

Friedrich shrugged nonchalantly and walked up the stone path, still holding the head of the goblin chieftain. He climbed the small wooden steps and paused in front of the door, checking to make sure Marina hadn’t run away in fear; she was still there. Friedrich raised his hand and rapped on the door with his knuckles.

“Who is it?” barked a voice from inside.

“My name is Friedrich,” said the young man. “Are you Branric the Isolated?”

“They call me that for a reason. Clear off, would you?”

“I brought the head of Chief Groksh of the Grey Fen Goblins. You posted a bounty for him in Fallswych, did you not?”

There was a shuffling inside and, moments later, the door swung open. Standing before the two young explorers was a tall man in robes of orange and purple. On his face, sat a mask, but it was not a mask that changed his form, unlike Friedrich’s. This mask was long and charred, with thick furs on the bottom resembling a beard and goblin bones tied to the top and both sides. The mask was painted with green and red stripes that ran across the forehead, almost resembling multicoloured wrinkles.

“Let me see him,” said the shaman, his dark eyes squinting from behind his mask.

Friedrich held up the head, which was looking worse for the wear than it was a couple of hours ago when he had first cut it from its owner’s body. Branric reached out a hand and Friedrich released the head to him. The shaman held it up to the light, as though trying to see if it was somehow a fake. He nodded satisfactorily and walked into his garden, finding an empty post. He slammed the open neck hole through the post and with a gruesome squelch, skewered the chief’s head, adding it to his garden decorations.

“This will do nicely,” he said. “Thank you, children—

“Children?” asked Friedrich, hearing the word that Marina knew would set him off.

“You are children, are you not?”

“We’re full-fledged adventurers,” said the young man. “If we were children, we could not have accomplished half of the things we have. Not least of which, is killing that wretched goblin for you.”

“He’s a sensitive one, isn’t he?” Branric asked Marina, who wanted to nod, but knew it would be better to not react. “No matter,” said the shaman, “I suppose you would like your payment then. Two hundred and fifty kupons, was it?”

“Three hundred and fifty,” said Friedrich.

“Are you sure? I don’t recall it being so high…”

Friedrich pulled out the bounty notice that he had taken from Fallswych and showed it to the shaman. “Three hundred and fifty.”

“How can I be certain that you haven’t tampered with this? The writing looks awfully smudged.”

“I jumped in the river to escape the goblins,” muttered Friedrich.

The shaman chortled. “I’m pulling your leg, boy. If the notice says three hundred and fifty, I will pay the three hundred and fifty.”

“Thank you.”

Branric walked over to his house and beckoned the two to follow him, but Friedrich and Marina exchanged uneasy glances. “Do you think I’m going to cook you for my dinner?” asked Branric. “Don’t be foolish. I’m sure you could use that soul mask of yours to slip away before I even tried.”

“You know about my soul mask?” asked Friedrich. “How?”

“The aura is sparkling from within your tunic, young man,” said Branric, pointing at Friedrich’s neck. “Most may not pick up on that, for magical instruments around the neck are not all that uncommon, but I would recognise that turquoise hue anywhere. Now come.”

Friedrich and Marina followed him inside his hut. It was exactly as the pair had expected from the outside. Small, cluttered and with enough wood to keep a bonfire going for days on end. There was even a boiling cauldron sitting in the centre of the room, but there was no fire beneath it to keep it going. The bubbling viscous liquid inside was a vivid green and Friedrich feared what would happen to him if even a single drop touched his tongue.

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“Sit, master adventurers, sit,” said Branric, gesturing towards two stools. “I’m afraid I have little more comfortable as it’s incredibly rare that I have company. I normally use those stools for carving skulls on top of when my tables are all full.”

Friedrich sat down unphased while Marina checked for scraps of flesh and bone fragments, not wanting to ruin his cloak or her dress. Branric, meanwhile was rummaging and clinking in a corner, his hands lost within a large sack. He pulled out a handful of sparkling gems and walked over to Friedrich.

“Two orange, that’s two hundred,” he muttered, passing them one by one to the young man. “Two purples, that’s another hundred. Two blues makes forty, and I’m afraid I have no reds, so…two greens makes ten.”

“I appreciate it,” said Friedrich, putting the kupons in his pouch. He wanted to give Marina her share now, but he thought this wasn’t the right time as the shaman sat down before them. He did, however, have lots of questions for Branric the Isolated.

“I’m curious,” said the shaman. “How is it that you happened across a soul mask? They’re very rare artifacts you know. It’s difficult to capture a soul, but even more difficult to enchant in the first place.”

“It was entirely by accident, if I’m honest,” said Friedrich, pulling the mask out, but keeping it around his neck. For some reason he trusted Branric not to steal it as Muriance had attempted. “I was exploring an old Mercian castle to the south and it was sitting in a chest along with a large stash of kupons. I don’t know how it got there, but I knew I wanted it. At first, I planned to sell it, but Marina here helped me see its value.”

“Intriguing,” said Branric, stroking the beard of his mask. “I have seen a handful of them in my lifetime, but never have I tried out its magic for myself. It would feel too much like I was possessing a corpse.”

“That’s what I said!” exclaimed Marina.

“But it is not the same, of course. I commune with spirits regularly and can tell the difference, but it still feels…unpleasant to me.”

“Is it evil magic?” asked Friedrich.

“The enslavement of a soul?” asked Branric. “What do you think?”

“I suppose it is, yes.”

“Wearing the mask is the only time the soul has any sense of life back again. These masks are incredibly difficult to destroy, so, by wearing it, you are granting the fox trapped within a small mercy, if only for a short while.”

“That makes me feel better about it.”

“I have a question,” said Marina, raising her hand.

“This is not a schoolroom, young lady,” said Branric with a smile. “Ask as you see fit.”

“When Friedrich wears the mask, his clothes and weapons vanish along with him until the magic wears off. Where does it go?”

Friedrich raised an eyebrow. What Marina had said was true, but he had never given it much thought. Whenever the magic wore off, all of his equipment was as it was before the transformation right down to the shield that he wore on his arm.

“Soul magic is powerful enough to extend beyond the mere physical body,” said Branric. “Your possessions are in a sense part of you. You wear a ring to symbolise a marriage? That is a part of you. You wield a blade with which you smite your foes? That is an extension of your arm. Yet, the chair upon which you sit is not yours nor an extension of you, but one with the ground upon which it sits and would therefore not disappear into the ether. Does that make sense?”

“Somewhat,” said Marina, not wholly satisfied with the answer. It was as though she expecting to hear about an invisible soul bag where Friedrich kept his possessions that she had not been privy to.

“Tell me, Friedrich,” asked Branric, leaning forwards, “would you like to know a little about this fox? Who it once was?”

“Yes,” said Friedrich, looking down at the painted wood. The gem embedded within the forehead twinkled at him, as though asking him to hear its story. “It wants me to know.”

Marina looked uneasy upon Friedrich uttering those last words. She had a growing suspicion that he had become much more attached to the mask than he was willing to let on. Whether that was a side-effect of his regular usage of it or possibly even a bonding of souls, she could not be sure. Either way, she was starting to worry about her friend.

“Very good,” said Branric, gesturing to see if he would be allowed to touch the mask.

“Go ahead,” said Friedrich, placing his own two hands upon it so that it could not be wrenched from his grip.

“Mu phor, kal gel, zegoram…” began Branric. His chanting grew louder and more rapid as he continued, the mask’s aura radiating more and more brightly. At the same time, Branric’s eyes turned turquoise behind his mask and suddenly he spoke in a voice that was not his own.

“Friedrich,” he said. “I thank you for rescuing me from the clutches of the undead goblins. My name is not one that can be spoken in your tongue, but the humans who knew me had named me Kitt.”

Friedrich said nothing, mesmerised to be hearing the voice of the soul within his mask.

“I come from the island of Kai’roh to the south. I ask that you take me there so that I may see the golden sands of my home once again…I must see it. If you do that for me, I will dedicate my soul in service to you. My form, my agility. They will be yours to use freely. I ask this of you, humbly.”

Branric’s eyes returned to normal and he removed his hand from the mask, the aura having dimmed. “He has a task for you,” said the shaman, letting out a deep exhalation. “I’m surprised that it was one as simple as going on a trip to an island, but who am I to judge the desires of the spirits?”

“Kai’roh…” muttered Marina. “Friedrich, you’ve talked about wanting to go there before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, what of it?” he asked her, tucking Kitt’s mask beneath his tunic once again.

“Did you ever want to go to Kai’roh before finding the mask?”

“I’ve wanted to travel to lots of places.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It wasn’t high on my list,” Friedrich admitted.

“I’m worried that Kitt’s soul is influencing you from within the mask,” said Marina, then turning to Branric. “Is that possible?”

“I could not say for certain, but I would surmise that it is indeed a possibility.”

“I think you need to be very careful with this mask, just in case…” Marina trailed off.

“In case what?” asked Friedrich.

“I worry that it’s trying to take over your body.”

Friedrich laughed. “Don’t let your imagination run too wild, Marina. If there’s ever the suggestion of that, I’ll toss it to the bottom of a bog where it will never be found again.”

“Are we going to Kai’roh then?”

“I don’t see any reason why not to. Kitt has been very helpful to us so far—”

“Does he have a choice?” interjected Marina, but Friedrich ignored her.

“—so I think the least we could do is grant him this one request.”

Marina sighed. “I hope you’re right…” she muttered. “How do we get to Kai’roh when you don’t have a boat yet?”

“That’s easy,” said Friedrich. “We head south-west to Akatfall and see if we can find someone to take us there.”