The path that Jenat took them along followed the ridgeline of the hills for a while, an undulating path that avoided the worst of the terrain down lower before turning off and heading over the hills and down the other side from the river. Down through gullies cut deep into the hillside they went, across small stream that trickled down, between towering trees and all the while the sound of birds and insects sung loud about them.

“It would appear to be a long and difficult way to go just for hunting,” Ivkarha remarked. “There must be easier, closer places to hand where hunting would be just as abundant.”

“There are,” Jenat responded. “Some, initially, felt the need to get far away, where none could disturb them. Those that follow have similar needs, but for different purposes, I fear.”

“What do you know?” Aedmorn asked him.

Jenat shrugged, his dark face discomforted by the question. “There are rumours,” he admitted, “Though none wish to delve deeper into them, of cults and heathen gods brought down from the north that have no place in any lands.”

“I have heard tell of some of the forbidden Thegurian gods,” Aedmorn responded, “And if it is as you say, and it is these that Asgyr follows, then I fear unpleasantness.”

“How unpleasant are we talking?” Ivkarha inquired of him.

“There is one, Hasvon the Flayer, and his wife, Galja, sometimes called the Eater of Men, the Corpse Mother, whose rites involve the sacrifice and devouring of sentients during it, and there are more perverse deeds that their cultists partake in.”

Ivkarha’s brows knitted in disturbed concentration. “Whispers of this Galja had reached even the Ra-Armal, for Az-Ashar has ever battled those that would infringe upon the realms of the dead, as she was said to have done.”

“Then it is best that we are prepared for whatever we may meet upon arriving at the camp site.”

As the sun begun to sink towards the hills to the west, they cam to the lower reaches of the hills, a place of boggy water ways and dank pools; not part of the swamps of the krithik it was, but a separate place, contained within a broad bowl in the hills, secluded, untouched and largely forgotten. Amongst the sounds of wildlife, they could hear what sounded like the distant echo of a drum beating, reverberating around.

“There is someone here,” Ivkarha remarked, “For no beast would make so regular a sound.”

They headed towards the sound of the drums, the noise of it growing louder with each step, and soon too could they smell the presence of smoke, of fires, and voices chanting.

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Quiet they approached, picking their way with care, and their weapons were at hand. The flicker of a fire became apparent to them in the lengthening dusk, and they stopped, dropping down low to observe.

As their eyes adjusted to the gloom and the flames, they could make out figures dancing around the fire to the dull beat of a drum. It was hard to tell how many, as they moved at a frantic pace, wildly gyrating as they did.

“Can you make out Asgyr?” Aedmorn whispered to Jenat. Their guide shook his head.

“Is this one of the rites of the Thegurian cults?” Ivkarha asked quietly.

“Not that I have heard tell, though I have not delved too deeply into such things. There is not much more we can see, or do, here. We may have to risk it.”

Ivkarha nodded and stood up, along with Aedmorn. Jemat stayed where he was, hidden from view.

“I was asked to bring you here, and no more,” he told them. “When you are gone, I still have to live here, and if Asgyr fins out I was involved, he could do anything.”

Though Ivkarha scowled at his words, Aedmorn nodded. “I understand. You have done your part. We will go on alone.”

Together the two walked forward, towards the camp. Nearing it they spotted the bodies of two dead monkeys, strung up on display from a tree, while the head of a crocodile had been mounted on a stake. Aedmorn growled low upon spotting them, baring his teeth. “Darker yet their deeds are proving. Seldom do you see such barbarity on display but along the most cruel and depraved of tyrants.”

They stalked into the camp, a place of rough lean-tos for shelter around a large fire, with bedrolls and sleeping furs in them, and a dozen men who at first notice them not, so caught up int heir chanting, gyrating dance where they. Only when the drummer spotted them and faltered in his beat did they stop and turn their way.

The drummer cast aside his drum and walked towards them, a man taller than they, and heavy set as well, broad of shoulders and thick of arms. He went bare chested, his once pale skin now deeply tanned, marked with blue whorl tattoos upon his chest. His hair was a pale red and was long and braided, as had his beard. Around his neck he wore a simple leather thong from which hung a golden stone, much like the one they had spotted around the neck of the body of Shaman Reebor. They took it that he was none other than Asgyr.

He gave them a long stare, folding his arms across his chest. “You have interrupted our sacred rites,” he told them in a harsh Thegurian accent.

“Who do you dance to?” Aedmorn asked of him. “Hasvon, Galja, or another of the forbidden gods?”

Asgyr laughed, one with a mocking edge to it. “You followers of weak gods would never understand,” he stated. “The old gods are scared which is why they persecute the followers of the true gods of Theguria. You are not of my lands; this concerns you not.”

Aedmorn pointed his spear at the bodies of the dea animals on display about the camp; there were more besides the monkey and the crocodile. “Those are my concern,” he said, before pointing to the gem, “As is that. The one you slew to take it was the shaman of the krithik.”

Asgyr closed a hand around the gem. “This is a thing of power,” he told them. “I hear it whisper to me at night, and its power will be mine.”

“It will be returned to the krithik,” Ivkarha told him. “We are here to do so.”

Asgyr laughed, his voice booming loud, and the men behind him joined in with him. “You think that the two of you alone can take this from me?”

Aedmorn’s smile was cold and ruthless. “Yes,” he replied, “We will.”