"I fucking hate rain," McKenzie remarked, to no-one in particular.

It had been raining in the forest since shortly after they'd entered it that morning, which had gone quite a long way toward dampening - literally - McKenzie's potential joy at his and Narra's approaching escape. The sense of joy was further kept from realising its true potential by the dark, glowering suspicion McKenzie had that the curse wouldn't let him step through a portal or jump into a wormhole or otherwise carry out whatever action would be required to transport him back home. So, while he was quietly confident that Narra would soon be starting a new life in New York, he wasn't so sure that he would be, and this was forcing his disposition to new depths of irritability and bleakness. Consequently the women - Narra included, although she still tended to remain near - were only speaking to him when necessary, and he was surprised when his remark attracted an answer.

"There's a town up ahead," Danandra said. "We can spend the night at the inn there and dry out. Maybe you'll even cheer up a bit."

"Don't hold your fucking breath," Sharinta noted.

"You lot all look like yourselves again," McKenzie pointed out - the disguises had recently worn off. "What if someone recognises Anaharra?"

"They won't," Danandra stated.

"Thanks for that detailed and reassuring answer," McKenzie said sourly.

"McKenzie, we're in the arsehole of nowhere, and no-one's laid eyes on Her Imperial Highness for 80 something years. It's fine. Fucking relax," Sharinta said.

McKenzie grunted. "Yeah, I forgot that it had been recently demonstrated that it was completely impossible for lost princesses to be suddenly and unexpectedly found in unlikely places. My bad."

"Oh for fuck's sake, McKenzie," Sharinta snapped back.

"Whatever," McKenzie replied, then fell silent.

As the light was fading, the forest path they were following joined a slightly wider road, which meandered around a couple of very large trees before they started to thin. This exposed two things to the eye. The first, and closest, was a small town with very high walls: walls that meant business, you could only see the roofs of one or two of the tallest buildings over them. The second was a castle perched on top of a crag which reared up behind the town - it was pointy, black and altogether evil looking. McKenzie took in the depressing tableau, and sighed. On cue, there was a jagged slash of lightning above the castle's turrets, followed by a grumbling roll of thunder.

"Well shit girls, why oh why haven't we visited here before?" McKenzie stated flatly. "It's a veritable magnet for tourists. In fact, fuck it, I'm buying a second home here."

"It's just a town," Danandra said. "With the local lord's castle nearby. Just because a storm is brewing and-"

A single wolf howled in the forest nearby, interrupting Danandra's explanation. The refrain was taken up by several others, seemingly from all around.

"Yeah. Of course. Just a town. You mark my words, before the night is through we, well, I say we, probably it'll end up being me, will have to fight something, probably with big bitey teeth, or something that shambles and knocks down barns for shits and giggles. The sort of thing you can't kill because it's already dead, and is monumentally pissed off about being dead. Go on. I bet you. Actual money. A gold bit. I bet."

Danandra ground her teeth but said nothing. Sharinta sighed. The horses skittered nervously from foot to foot, unnerved by the howling.

"We can debate this in an inn, through the gate in those walls, which, I suggest, we ride the fuck through before some bastard closes them and we end up spending the night in the rain discouraging the local carnivores away from the horses. Any arguments? Good. Let's go then," Sharinta said, in a tone which would have brooked no argument if there had been any - as it was they increased their pace towards the town.

The gates - massive, oaken affairs - were indeed starting to close as they drew near.

"State your business!" Someone called down from the wall.

"Getting dry!" McKenzie answered. "It's shitting it down out here, open the gates again willya?"

There was a bark of sour laughter, but the gates stopped moving long enough to let McKenzie and the girls dismount and guide their horses through. They emerged into a holding area ringed by only slightly lower walls. The gates to this area were not straight ahead but set into the right hand wall, and the architect's primary design motivation seemed to be to maximise the places from which defenders might hurl down various forms of nastiness, from verbal abuse to hot pitch, on any attackers. The only thing directed at them, however, was a question.

"Are you mad, to be on the road this late on this night?" They were asked.

"Probably. Maybe. No idea what you mean, really, not everyone's from Bumfuck, Nowheresville and consequently-" McKenzie started.

"Know what?" Sharinta cut in. "Never thought I'd say this, but why don't I do the talking so no-one gets offended. I don't particularly fucking want to spend the night out in this shit." She then turned and addressed the voice. "We are travellers, sir, and do not know this forest. We are on our way to far Vyrinios. We seek shelter for the night, is there an inn within?"

"There is," the voice replied, "but strangers are not welcome, especially trolls."

"Hey!" Leni protested.

"We have troubles enough without inviting them within our walls."

"Hard to disagree," McKenzie muttered, then spoke up. "How about if we leave the troll here, can the rest of us come in? Frankly we're not overkeen on her ourselves."

"McKenzie!" Leni protested again. Danandra laughed.

"I don't fucking like you, Leni, it can't hardly come as a fucking bolt out of the blue, can it? Get over it," McKenzie said, then directed his voice to the wall again. "We've got money to pay for the inn and also for any fees and surcharges associated with the opening of inner gates. " He dug out a large silver coin from his pocket and held it up. "This looks shiny, how much is it worth hereabouts do you reckon?"

A brief pause followed. "Very well. You four only, not the troll. You stay within The Inn and don't try to leave. Everyone checks their weapons at the gate, that's the law hereabouts."

"Not a problem, mate," McKenzie answered.

Sharinta sighed. "Tempting as it fucking is to leave her out here, how much to let the troll in too? She's a registered merchant guard, and honour bound to start no trouble when engaged to a client. We have the appropriate imperial documentation."

"The only imperial things of any use out here come in copper, silver or gold, with the emperor's face stamped on them: and it'll take one of the last sort to make me let your troll in for the night, be she an honour bound guard or not."

"Pah! Two silver," Sharinta offered - they eventually settled on four silver, the gate was opened, and the money was given to the owner of the voice: a pale, middle aged man dressed in leather armour which had seen better days. He emerged from behind the gates, accompanied by two younger guards, who levelled crossbows at them in a sort of listless, disinterested fashion. Leni and McKenzie were obliged to hand over their swords and daggers, although they were given a receipt. The man did not enquire about the gun.

"The Inn is right through the gates," he pointed.

"What's it called?" Sharinta asked him.

"The Inn," he replied. "There's only one."

"What, in this bustling metropolis?" McKenzie remarked. "Surely you're having a laugh."

"Good night to you," he said, and with his two sidekicks ducked back through an iron door, which clanged shut behind them.

"Twat," McKenzie delivered a summary of the man's character, and then led his and Narra's horses towards The Inn.

The man had been right, The Inn was practically attached to the town's defensive arrangements - its yard was as formidably walled in as the holding area, the only other exits being the door to The Inn and the stables.

"They like their privacy here, no doubt about that," Danandra commented.

A yawning stablehand relieved them of their horses and two more silver pieces: expensive rates, McKenzie guessed, by Danandra's deepening scowl.

"I think we'll have to guard the horses," Sharinta said.

"Stable's secure, mistress," the stablehand said. "Ain't no-one taking any horses out of here without my say so."

"Exactly," Sharinta replied.

Danandra said a few incomprehensible words and then pointed at each horse in turn: McKenzie didn't feel even the most minor sussuration of magic, so she was clearly bluffing. "Done," she said, then added, matter-of-factly: "Anyone except us who takes these horses out of here will suffer excruciating pain. Their screams of agony will alert us to the attempted theft."

The stablehand gulped. He clearly believed her.

There was a sparse, all-male crowd inside, clustered around the bar in a room almost devoid of decoration or personality. Everything looked to have been recently painted and about half of the chairs and tables looked to be new, though crudely made. There was no music and no conversation, but McKenzie was convinced that if there had been, it would've stopped abruptly when they walked in.

The barman, an overweight man with a reddened nose and a total lack of any kind of hair, eyed them suspiciously.

"We don't like outsiders here," he stated.

"What a fucking fantastic business model for an inn," McKenzie said. "It's no wonder this is such a swish place with mercantile acumen like yours at the helm."

"Will you stop?" Sharinta asked. "Yes, it's an unfriendly shithole, well spotted. Now shut the fuck up."

McKenzie grunted.

"We'll require three rooms, landlord," Sharinta said.

"There's five of you," the landlord replied. "You pay for five rooms."

"Fine," Sharinta countered. "But that includes board."

"We don't do board," the landlord countered. "Just rooms."

"Five rooms, then," Sharinta answered. "Where can we purchase food?"

The landlord shrugged. "Don't know. That's fifteen silver."

"Fifteen!" Danandra nearly hissed. "Is there a palace upstairs that I somehow failed to notice?"

"Fifteen silver. Take it or leave it," the landlord said.

"Some people," Leni said, "might think twice about overcharging a group of obviously dangerous warriors and mages."

The landlord hawked up something unpleasant and expelled it into a container somewhere near his feet. "Suppose," he said. "Fifteen silver is the rate for the rooms. If you don't want the rooms, you can't stay here. If you can't stay here, law says you can't stay in the town. If you can't stay in the town, you can risk the wolves."

"Yeah, fuck it, I can shoot a few wolves. I'll make a fucking coat. Let's go," McKenzie said.

"They ain't no normal wolves out there, son," one of the patrons said.

"We're in our comfort zone with 'not normal', believe you me," McKenzie replied.

"How not normal is not normal?" Danandra asked.

"Keb!" Another patron hissed at the man who had spoken, when it looked as if he might have answered.

"Fifteen silver for the rooms," the landlord repeated.

"Fine," Sharinta said, walked over, and laid the coins on the counter. Every man watched her move: her wet clothes were sticking to her figure. One of them sighed with what seemed like regret; hardly the first time Sharinta had elicited such a reaction, but usually, with drunk men, it was more vocal.

The bartender swept them into a pouch without any thanks.

"Is there a chambermaid?" Sharinta asked.

The man called Keb gave forth a derisive noise. McKenzie saw the landlord nod to another of the patrons, who laid a hand on Keb's shoulder.

"No, no chambermaid. Rooms are upstairs," the landlord said. "Keb: you've had enough. Sarat and Dunn'll see you home. In fact, it's getting on for closing time. Anyone who ain't meaning to spend the night here best finish up soon." The end of the sentence coincided with a renewed chorus of howling from outside the town.

Since it had only been dark for perhaps half an hour, this declaration from the landlord elicited surprisingly little controversy from the gathered drinkers, who quickly knocked back their pots of ale and headed for a door at the back. Presumably there were better places to while away the evening. The door, McKenzie noted, was another one that meant business: iron, and again, freshly painted.

"Hey!" Leni bellowed down the stairs. "There's only four rooms!"

"Never said we had five rooms," the landlord said. "Rates are per person, not per room."

"Do you actually want us to stay here, or what?" McKenzie asked the landlord, who didn't answer.

"Leni, just leave it," Sharinta said. "This is the only inn, we have little choice and, if you'll take a moment to remember, we are polite merchants not looking for any trouble."

"Although come the morning when we hit the road again, don't be surprised if your inn is, y'know, on fire a bit," McKenzie told the barman.

"If you so much as-" the landlord started, pointing a finger in McKenzie's face. McKenzie grabbed his wrist and exerted some pressure. The landlord went pale.

"Go on," McKenzie said. "You were saying?"

"Nothin'," the landlord muttered sullenly.

"Good." McKenzie released him. The landlord snatched his arm back to cradle his wrist. "Now, pour us some fucking drinks. Which are on the house, by the way, in consideration of the punitive nature of your pricing structure."

The landlord nodded and started filling flagons. "The barrel's empty," he said, after filling the first one. "I'll need to go and get some more. Might take a while." With that, he ducked out of the same door the others had left through. The sound of heavy bolts being rammed home followed his exit.

"Odd," Danandra said.

"No doubt about that. Which bit exactly?" McKenzie asked.

"Inn doors are normally not designed to withstand a minor siege," she replied. "Neither do they often lock from the outside."

"Clearly it's a fucking travellers' inn, designed to keep us cut off from any opportunity to find cheaper places in the town proper. It's shitty, to be sure, but not exactly an uncommon way for a town to extract extra silver from passers-by," Sharinta growled.

"You want I should knock the door down so we can relocate?" McKenzie asked her.

"Tempting, but no," Sharinta answered. "Low profile, remember? If that means putting up with high prices for a crappy inn for a night, then fuck it, fine."

McKenzie shrugged and hopped over the bar. There wasn't much behind it except for a single barrel of ale, a few more cleanish flagons and a cloth. He peered into the barrel. "This is still maybe a third full," he reported, dipping the ladle in and filling another four drinking vessels. "Why'd he nip off to get a new one?"

"Hmm, let me think," Danandra said. "Perhaps because you threatened to burn down his inn and then nearly broke his wrist? He's not coming back until the morning, if then."

Narra re-entered the room, at that point. McKenzie hadn't noticed her leaving: he cursed himself for being inattentive. "The stableboy is gone too," she said. "We're alone."

"Just as well for them," Leni said. "I was starting to consider if he'd charge more reasonably while dangling from his ankles from an upstairs window. Not that there are any windows upstairs."

"Which is, as I think I just explained, exactly the reason they've all departed," Danandra said. "Sharinta's right, this is an exercise in revenue maximisation, why linger and run the risk of a disgruntled client turning violent? Especially when one of them already has," she shot McKenzie a Significant Look.

"Whatevs," McKenzie said. "Everyone go and get a room, four is enough if one of us stays awake and keeps an eye out. Leni, are there any exits upstairs?"

Leni shook her head.

"Cracking. Just have to make sure no-one comes up, then. I'll go first," he said.

"I'll stand watch with you," Narra said.

McKenzie smiled at her. "Thanks, Your, um, Anaharra, but the point is that the person downstairs is guarding the way to get to you."

Narra looked disappointed. "I see. Of course."

"Nice try, Anaharra," Sharinta told her, with a grin. "It's almost impossible to get him alone."

Anaharra blushed. "Goodnight, then," she said hurriedly, and retreated upstairs. Leni and Danandra followed her.

"Was that necessary?" McKenzie asked Sharinta, who picked up a flagon, sniffed it, and replaced it hurriedly on the bar. "She's young, don't give her a hard time."

"I'm not - and she's only young by elf standards; she was born about a hundred and twenty fucking years ago."

"That also qualifies as young by my standards," McKenzie reminded her.

"I forgot you're an old, old man," Sharinta told him. "You should get changed into dry clothes if you're putting yourself on guard duty, grandad. I'll wait here until you're done."

"Since Danandra's not around..." McKenzie said, and closed his eyes in brief concentration. There was a brief hiss and a flash of steam, and McKenzie's clothes were suddenly dry.

Sharinta waved the cloud of steam away from her face. "Handy trick. You're a one man sauna."

McKenzie gave a brief, thin smile. "Want me to do you?"

"Any place, any time, any way you want," Sharinta replied with an evil grin.

"The double-entendre hilarity continues," McKenzie replied, po-faced, although, as usual, the uncivilised male within considered finding out if she meant it. "Seriously - dry clothes?"

"I think I'll just get changed, if it's all the same to you. You can be a bit fucking random sometimes," she answered.

"Guilty as charged," McKenzie agreed good-naturedly. "Do me a favour?"

"Depends," Sharinta said.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Take the brain-voodoo off of Anaharra. I'll handle it if she freaks at Leni. No way can a curse which purports to do the right thing take exception to that," McKenzie said.

Sharinta sighed. "You know what the definition of 'the right thing' is, as far as the fucking curse is concerned."

"Yeah. Never mind."

Sharinta opened her mouth, then paused.

"Go on," McKenzie said. Without knowing quite why, he dug the Archmage's cursebreaker out of his memory and flung a few volts at it. There was a sense of pressure in the room, a bit like diving to the bottom of a swimming pool.

"Some people see through it themselves," Sharinta blurted, seemingly surprised at herself. "Strong willed people, rational people. If you can get them thinking about why they're thinking the way they think, it breaks. You didn't hear that from me."

McKenzie shut off the power, and let the cursebreaker fade from his immediate thoughts.

"What the fuck did you just do?" Sharinta asked. "How did you-?"

McKenzie put his finger to his lips. "Not sure. The Archmage is playing a long game with the curse, is all I'll say now. Early experiment: do not get your hopes up."

Sharinta nodded. "Best news I've had this year, anyway. There would be no limit to my gratitude if you could free me of this curse."

"Well, if I wasn't sufficiently motivated already..." Another thin smile escaped. "Keep it to yourself," McKenzie said.

"I will, but-"

"Yeah, I know: curse. Keep it to yourself as much as you can," McKenzie interrupted.

"Okay," she agreed. "Want me to send Anaharra down so you can have a little chat with her?"

McKenzie was about to say no, but stopped to think. "Yeah, do, actually."

"Night then, handsome," Sharinta smiled wickedly, and then disappeared upstairs.

McKenzie checked the doors - the rear exit was impenetrable, the front exit an insubstantial wooden door with no lock. McKenzie wedged a chair underneath the handle, as a token gesture toward securing it.

"McKenzie?" Narra said, from right behind him.

"Yikes!" McKenzie jumped. "You really do move around incredibly quietly, Narra."

"Sorry," she said, looking suddenly miserable. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay," McKenzie said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It wouldn't be a good habit to get out of; I wish I could pass unnoticed that way."

Her hand immediately covered his, then took it in her own and placed it against her cheek.

"Narra, please don't-" McKenzie started.

"I wish we could leave, together," Narra told him softly. "I don't want to be Empress Anaharra and I don't want a bodyguard, I want a-"

"Hold on," McKenzie said. "I'm gonna check on the horses - come with me?"

Narra smiled and nodded. "Anywhere."

The stableboy had taken the lantern with him: McKenzie got his phone out. It had a very bright LED light but he'd only ever been able to turn it on to constant by recording video; he settled for the light given out by the browser from the pristine whiteness of the Google home page. One of the horses - already unnerved by the frequent bouts of howling - gave a surprised shuffle at the sudden light.

"I-" He began, and then the curse slammed down on his thoughts like a heavy lead weight, pinning them in place. He reached for the Archmage's spell again and let some quintessence power it up. The sense of crushing pressure returned, but his will was released.

Narra already had other ideas about why he was tongue tied, though - she leaned into him, her hands settled round his waist, and she turned her face up with her lips slightly apart.

Shit, awkward, McKenzie thought, too late now. He bent his head down and kissed her. Narra shivered and then relaxed.

"Wait," McKenzie said, pulling away. "As lovely as that was, I didn't bring you out here for that sort of privacy. We might not have much time, so listen carefully."

Narra sighed a small sigh, but nodded and looked attentive.

"I might have a way out. A way back to my world - for both of us," Narra's eyes immediately went wide.

"Your world?" She queried.

Of course: she didn't have the full backstory on him. "Yeah, long story. It's still a way out of this, anyway."

"But how-"

"I can't explain how, I just know when - tomorrow, sometime not long after noon, I think. Two people only. It'll be dangerous," McKenzie told her. He winced - the spell was giving him a headache.

"I don't care. I'm going with you," Narra said with assurance.

"Your confidence in me is both charming and deeply worrying," McKenzie told her. "I mean dangerous might get killed dangerous. 80% burns dangerous."

"My life here is hardly danger-free, McKenzie," Narra reminded him. "I give myself a year at the most before an assassin gets through, as good as you all are."

"I know. Even if it works, though, you'll be in a place that is unbelievably different to here. No-one will be able to understand you, including, I suspect, me: you'll have to learn everything from scratch. There are no elves there. There is no magic there, no mages, no clerics, no flying wooden ships - on the up side, no trolls either. Just people. In a very real way, though, it's more dangerous there than here. The man behind all this is there. There'll be a confrontation between him and me. It's unavoidable. I'll keep you out of it, but it won't be pleasant. One way or another, I mean to be free of him for good. Either he's going to die, or I'm going to, trying to put an end to him and all his shit," McKenzie said.

"I understand. I'm still going with you," Narra affirmed.

McKenzie kissed her on the forehead without thinking: she squeezed his hand and kissed his chest. Fine: she was lovely, stunningly gorgeous and, for whatever demented reason, had taken a shine to him. There were worse things to contemplate than a relationship with a beautiful girl. First among which was exactly what the Archmage's magic was doing to him. He felt like he was about to be squashed into the floor.

"There's problems. The first one is Leni. You trust her, right?"

"I...do," Narra replied, pausing slightly. It looked like Sharinta had been right.

"I want you to think very carefully about why you trust her. Try not to freak out when it occurs to you," McKenzie said.

"When what occurs to me?"

"Just think. Hard."

Narra thought, then gave vent to a little gasp. Her hand shot up and covered her mouth.

"Will she-, would she-?"

"Yeah. In a heartbeat. She's a killer, and not to be trusted. If not for the curse, I would have killed her a long time ago on general principles. Have you got Leni straight in your head now?"

Narra nodded. "How could I have, I mean, what made me trust her?"

"Sharinta," McKenzie answered. "She can manipulate thoughts. She was ordered to do it by the Archmage, who in turn is being forced to do things against her will: and these are not the kind of orders that can be disobeyed. It's costing me a great deal of effort just to have this conversation - so I need to get everything said quickly."

Narra nodded.

"Ow," McKenzie said.

"What's the matter?"

"Headache," McKenzie answered. The archmage's voodoo was sucking all of the air out of the stables. His skull was splitting.

"I don't know if it's just your strange light, McKenzie, but you look a bit...pale."

"I need to hurry. Listen. Don't trust Sharinta or Danandra either. They're cursed, like me and like Leni, but if they weren't, well, neither of them are the altruistic type. And, for that matter, don't even trust me until this curse is broken. We're sworn to protect you, but the curse could override that in a second."

"Can you break free?" Narra asked. "You must be fighting it off now, to be talking like this. It's painful, isn't it?" Her hand went to his cheek.

"Smart girl. I am; it does; but yes, I'm sure I can break free," McKenzie lied. "When the time comes tomorrow, though, you don't worry about that. I don't know what's gonna happen, but it's gonna be pretty obvious. The friends of mine that are making this happen have said they'll be sending through protective clothing - kinda like armour. Put it on and do whatever needs doing to take the way out. I'll be right behind you, but this is not going to work if we end up with all sorts of 'I'm not leaving without you, we go together or not at all' bullshit. Stay practical. Stay focused. Stay-, shit, I can't keep this up," McKenzie said. The sense of pressure and the pain in his head was unbearable. "Do you understand?"

Narra nodded.

McKenzie shut off the power to the spell, and fell to his knees. Narra knelt down beside him. The pressure vanished: the headache remained.

"Ouch," he said, winced again, then smiled. Narra cradled his head and kissed his hair - it felt nice. McKenzie had forgotten what it was like to have someone give a toss about how you felt. "Feels like I've been drinking. Acid."

"Sharinta can take the pain away," Narra said. "I'll go and get her." She started to stand.

"No! She already knows too much: I don't want her to know anything more. But now that you mention it, I've seen her do that trick before..."

McKenzie put his fingers to his temples and cast his mind back to when Sharinta had cured Danandra and Leni's hangovers. It had been a sort of a pattern. It sprang obediently to mind and the headache vanished like smoke in a strong breeze. He was getting better at manipulating this strange new power. He wasn't sure he wanted to. McKenzie pushed it down again.

Narra was speaking. He couldn't understand her. He let the inner fire back up a little.

"-you quite well? You've gone quiet."

"Fine. Headache's gone. I seem to be a fast learner." He stood, and helped her to her feet. "You should get back to your room, Your Majesty."

"I don't want to. I feel safe with you, not with them," Narra said, then bit her lower lip.

"Even I don't feel safe with me, Narra," McKenzie told her. "I know me too well. You're not in any danger from Leni right now."

"I would still rather stay with you. I don't think that I care to be separated from you again. Ever." Narra paused, blushed: "Sorry, that sounds a little bit obsessive. I'm really quite normal and ordinary, I swear." She smiled.

McKenzie smiled back. "Normal, maybe, but hardly ordinary. Come on, it smells of horse-poo in here. Back to the bar, which smells worse, come to think of it, but anyway."

They walked back to the common room. "Will you come up to my room, when your watch is over, please? First on the left at the top of the stairs. I don't want to be alone with...her around."

"She can't touch you," McKenzie said.

"Please, McKenzie." A tear formed in the corner of one of her eyes, then she said, in a small voice. "I can't take this. I had decades of freedom, of being in charge of my own destiny. Now I have one slim chance of getting it back and I'm terrified of losing it."

The curse was constraining his responses. "I have promised to protect you. I will protect you," he eventually said.

Inside, Narra nodded and paused at the bottom of the stairs. "I know you will, McKenzie. I-, good night," she disappeared, noiselessly as ever.

McKenzie sighed, sat down, and took a sip of the frankly disgusting ale.

"It's going to be a long night," he said to himself, put the gun on his lap, and settled in for his watch.

- o O o -

Out in the rain; the howling had a meaning, for those who could listen. It echoed through the forest from the castle to the town, orders from the leader of the pack.

"Bring the elfwomen and the cleric. Do what you will with the troll and the male."

- o O o -

It was Sharinta who came down to relieve him, after about three hours, holding a candle.

"Remind me never to develop a crush on you," she said, by way of greeting, and yawned. "It seems to involve a lot of rather pathetic sniffing. Half an hour, before she gave over and went to fucking sleep. I take it you told her it was never going to happen between a princess and an, um, miscellaneous?"

"We had a talk," was what McKenzie curtailed his answer to.

"You must've been as fucking sensitive as ever, then," Sharinta said. "Anything happen down here? Gods forfend, someone showed up to see if we were comfortable? The beds are fucking awful."

McKenzie shook his head.

"I'm starting to think your arson plan has merit," Sharinta said. "Anyway, the empty room is the second on the right. It's dry, at least."

"Thanks," McKenzie told her, picking up his bags. "Night."

He ascended the stairs quietly, and paused briefly by Narra's room. He heard nothing from inside save for soft, regular breathing. He twisted his lips in a momentary expression of uncertainty, then carried on to the last door on the right.

The phone light illuminated a dismal, windowless room with no furniture save a narrow wooden bed which had been botched together from branches and nails. A large burlap sack stuffed with straw served as a mattress: there was no pillow and no blankets. McKenzie lowered himself onto it anyway and laid down.

Less than a day, he reminded himself. Less than a day and he was going back to Earth with Narra. The curse couldn't control him on Earth: he just had to get through. The howling outside, muted by the walls, reached some kind of crescendo and then fell silent. McKenzie pulled his gun out and put it by his head, then slept.

- o O o -

"It's your turn," one of the gate guards whispered to the other, as they looked glumly at the lever which would release the lock on the town gates. It was near the lever which released the guardroom door - they were very careful, when working them, to choose the right one.

"I did it last time," the other responded.

"Well, it ain't my turn, is all I know," the first replied sullenly.

"You want to chance they'll jump the walls again? It ain't taken well, if we don't open the gates."

"So you unlock it then," the first guard said.

The second guard snorted, reached out quickly, and yanked the lever. Two sets of locks clunked, mechanisms worked for a few moments, and then came to rest.

"Coward," he accused the other.

"Yeah," the first agreed. "The girls were pretty. It's a shame, is all."

One of the gates creaked as it opened. They both knew what was opening it. They stared at the guardroom door. It juddered slightly, in it's settings. Then there was a loud snorting noise, followed by a scratching.

Then, with frightening suddenness, the handle turned. Both guards jumped. The door was rattled against it's locks twice, dislodging a few flakes of stone from the hinges.

"Let's go get drunk," the second guard said. "I can't hear this."

The other guard nodded.

McKenzie was awoken by a sudden sound. He couldn't identify it for a moment: it had been brief, but loud.

A scream. A stifled scream. It had sounded like Danandra.

"Oh for fuck's sake Leni," he muttered to himself, drawing the obvious conclusion.

It was dark, and McKenzie noted that a pervading smell of wet dog could now be added to the room's varied selling points. He got as far as picking up his gun before something with incredibly big teeth grabbed him round the neck and shook him really, really hard.

He jammed the gun into his attacker - whatever it was, it was covered in damp fur - and pulled the trigger. The gun kicked in his hand, his attacker let out a pain-filled yelp, and the grip of the jaws on his neck went slack.

McKenzie shoved his assailant to the floor, where it landed with a muffled thump and started to whine pathetically. He could hear the horses in the stables going berserk, the crash of splintering wood, and then the horses started making a noise that came straight out of nightmare. It was accompanied by much growling.

"Narra," McKenzie said to himself, and made for the door. He couldn't see a goddamned thing: he dug his phone out and turned on the video so he could use the light; held it alongside the gun so he could aim. A decent torch would have been really useful about now.

The thing on the floor was a huge wolf: it was the size of a fucking bear. McKenzie stepped around it, gun levelled, and kicked open the door.

Another wolf in the small corridor. It crouched to spring. McKenzie fired: the round took it in the shoulder, and the force was enough to send it tumbling down the stairs. Narra's door was off its hinges: McKenzie ripped it all the way off in his haste to get in.

She was not there. Her blanket lay on the floor where it had been ripped off the bed. There was no blood; in fact there was very little mess at all.

"Fuck," McKenzie said, feeling cold.

There was an explosion of plaster, dust and splintering wood, and a wolf was thrust into the room. It flailed with it's front legs, but was unable to get any purchase; noticing the startled McKenzie, it tried to snap at him. McKenzie levelled the pistol, but then it gave vent to a yelp as it was dragged backwards out of the wall.

He crouched, pointed his gun and phone at the resulting hole, and was in time to see yet another scene that he could have happily lived his entire existence without witnessing.

Leni had a hold of the wolf-thing's front legs - she already had it's hindquarters in her mouth. It yelped and whined: she shoved and swallowed.

"Leni! Spit it out!" McKenzie shouted.

Leni looked at him, jerked her head backward, and then that was that.

"Mmm," she said. "That was way nicer than any normal wolf."

McKenzie nearly managed to shoot her.

"Will you fucking stop eating things!" He snarled instead.

"Behind you!" She shouted.

McKenzie didn't trouble himself to turn around: he leapt through the hole, and heard the snapping of jaws and a frustrated snarl from behind him as he rolled up against the far wall of Leni's room.

"Ooh, seconds!" Leni grinned, and lunged towards the hole to make a grab for the wolf. She needn't have bothered: it scrabbled through the hole, intent on McKenzie. Leni seized it as it came through with one arm around it's midsection and one hand around it's muzzle, forced it into her mouth, and started to eat it.

"Fuck this," McKenzie said. He got to his feet, hoofed the door open, and was confronted by a wolf emerging from his room. The gun roared and it went down. He levelled his pistol down the stairs: clear. He kicked open Danandra's door, but the room was empty of either Danandra or wolf.

"Shit," he said.

"No Danandra either, huh?" Leni asked, emerging from her room. Her voice was muffled: there was a tail dangling from her lips. She swallowed and the tail disappeared, then leaned down and grabbed the downed wolf from the floor by the scruff of it's neck and lifted it up.

"No," McKenzie said. "Will you stop eating these fucking things, please? We have a situation here and that shit is putting me off."

"Troll. Sue me," Leni shrugged, sniffing the dead wolf. She shook it experimentally.

Something small but heavy thunked onto the floor and rolled to McKenzie's feet. He glanced down. A bullet, deformed from impact with bone. The wolf in Leni's hand suddenly came alive: snarling, biting and trying to scratch. She slammed it's head against the ceiling, which cracked. The wolf yelped and whined and ceased it's struggles for a moment, which was all the time Leni needed to make a live meal out of that one, too. McKenzie felt sick.

"Seriously, Leni, stop eating these fucking wolves," McKenzie told her.

"These ain't wolves."

"Whatever. Stop fucking eating them," McKenzie reiterated.

"Whatcha think they came in here to do to us, then? Engage us in a debate about the finer points of ancient literature? Chances are Danandra, Sharinta and your girlfriend are in several different pieces in several different wolves right now: sorry."

"I'm not so sure: there's no blood," McKenzie said. "There should be a dead one in my room."

Leni shook her head. "Your room's empty 'cept for a bloodstain. I think I just ate it."

McKenzie didn't reply directly to that, but he did pick up the bullet. "Ready to head downstairs?" He asked instead, letting it fall again.

Leni snorted. "After you, hero."

McKenzie levelled the pistol and trod carefully down the stairs and out into the barroom. There was a thin trail of blood down the stairs and a small pool on the floor, and bloody pawprints led back out to the open door. The room was empty. McKenzie eased the door open and snatched a glimpse out: the yard was deserted. The rain had faded to a light drizzle.

"Clear!" McKenzie called. Leni thumped down the stairs.

"Clear what?"

"Never mind."

McKenzie went out into the yard, and briefly shone his light into the stables. The horses weren't there: or at least 95% of the horses weren't there. He held back the impulse to vomit.

"Ew," Leni said, as she saw the grisly mess. "No table manners, some creatures. I don't think it's lookin' too good for the others, McKenzie, despite what you-"

"Wrong," McKenzie said, noting in passing that the time on his phone was only an hour or so since he'd gone to sleep. "Look at the mess in the stables compared to the mess inside, and can't you feel the curse pulling you towards them?"

He could. It drew his gaze through the easing rain to the dim, black shape of the distant castle.

"Yeah, a bit. So what do we do? Go after them?"

"Yes. But first, I'm gonna gather intelligence," McKenzie said.

"I gotta say that doesn't sound like something you'd do. How?"

"I'm going to hit people until they tell me things."

"Oh. That sounds like something you'd do."

- o O o -

McKenzie found that he could just about fit his fingers around the guardroom door. He put one foot on the wall and pulled, grunting with the strain. Nothing happened for a few moments, then there was a grinding noise followed by a sudden, sharp crack. McKenzie staggered back, breathing heavily. The door fell to the muddy floor with a splat.

"Gods," Leni said. "Did you just pull that door clean off?"

"Yeah," McKenzie answered.

"Wow," Leni said. "I thought you were just going to jump over the wall and open it from the other side."

Yeah, that would've been a really good idea, McKenzie thought: to himself.

Out loud, he said: "Well, I want to make an impression," and picked up the door briefcase style.

The guardroom was small, cramped, and unlit. McKenzie shone the torch around and located the locked cage that held their weapons. He used the metal door to smash the padlock with a neat jerk. Leni belted her sword back on, then found and lit a lantern, which allowed McKenzie to pocket his phone, put down the door for a moment and retrieve his cutlass and the potentially-magical-again-one-day dagger.

"Right, let's go find the pub," he said, hoisting the door again. "The real one."

"I'm normally in favour of a drink, but I thought you were kinda hot for finding the others?" Leni said.

"The pub," McKenzie said, "will almost certainly contain the men who conveniently left our fake inn a bit earlier. I'm hoping it'll contain that bloody landlord. I don't like not knowing what the fuck is going on, and I'm going to take it out on them until I do know."

The outer - or inner, depending on your perspective - guardroom door opened easily, and the town's actual inn was laughably easy to find - it was down the street, and brightly lit. There was no-one around.

"Right then," McKenzie said, and set off purposefully toward it, dragging the door behind him.

He used it to smash the inn door open, then tossed it through the doorway where it smashed a bench and sent four men scrambling back in surprise. There were shouts of amazement, and then a hush fell over the room, despite the fact that it was crowded with men. The landlord from the fake inn stood transfixed behind the bar: it seemed he was the owner of the real one, too.

"Dear manager of the Deathtrap Inn, Shit Lane, Arsehole-of-Nowhereville, Giant-Wolf-Infested Forest, Vyrinia," McKenzie said, striding across the room and shoving anything and anyone out of his way.

A man stood in his path and swung a fist at him: the blow connected with a suspiciously painful crunch, but McKenzie ignored it and grabbed the man's arm. He was wearing a set of knuckledusters: the man swore as McKenzie ripped them from his hand then placed a boot on his chest and propelled him into the nearest wall.

"I wish to register a complaint," he said, reached over the bar, grabbed the landlord by the neck and dragged him up and on top of the wood.

Three men made as if to intervene. Leni ducked through the doorway and drew her enormous sword. "I wouldn't," she said. "It won't get you nothin' except dead." The men abruptly had second thoughts.

"Is that the guardroom door?" One of the guards, wide eyed, asked her.

Leni nodded.

"Gods!" The other exclaimed, and after a frightened look at each other, hurried out of the inn and sprinted down the street.

"You forgot your door!" Leni called after them, laughing, then suddenly retched.

"Oh crap,"she said, looking down at her stomach. "Really?"

McKenzie wasn't listening though. "Upon arriving at your establishment, I was frankly shocked at the prices, which did not seem warranted as your inn was basically shit," he said, and shoved the landlord along the bar and onto the floor in a clatter of flagons.

"Please, wait, I-" the landlord said. McKenzie ignored him, and yanked him to his feet.

"However, this poor customer service experience pales into insignificance next to the fact that it is apparently considered acceptable to allow vicious wolves into the premises to chow down on the patron's horses and abduct their friends." McKenzie threw the barman across the room, where he smashed another table during his landing.

McKenzie grabbed his clothes, hauled him upright, slammed him against a wall and then held the tip of his dagger about a centimetre from his right eye.

"I hereby request a full refund and for someone to tell me what the shitting fuck is going on with the wolves that won't stay shot after you shoot them. Yours sincerely, A Very Angry Customer."

The barman swallowed, then wet himself.

"This is the part where you talk," McKenzie reminded him.

"The hell with this," a semi-familiar voice said, from behind him. "I'll talk. Let him down."

"Kev, wasn't it?" McKenzie said, letting the barman slump to the floor.

"Keb! No!" Another man hissed.

"Well, I was close," McKenzie said.

"It's gone far enough, Sarat!" Keb said, from where he was stood against the bar. "This ain't no life, livin' in fear every day and night, offerin' up travellers as sacrifices to a madwoman! This ends. I'd rather we all of us ended rather than carry on this way another day."

"Start talking," McKenzie told Keb. "The next man that tries to silence him or even coughs while he's talking will get a broken arm."

Silence fell. Keb cleared his throat, took a drink of his ale, and settled onto a stool.

"It all started a year or so back," he began. "Back then this was a normal town, and-"

"Lemme stop you there. You've got," McKenzie glanced at his watch, "one minute exactly to hit all the high points. I'm kinda keen to get movin'. In fact, fuck it, if you're not done talking before I get bored I'll cut one of your fingers off. Go."

Keb went wide-eyed, and his mouth worked silently for a moment.

"Tick tock," McKenzie reminded him.

"The lady of yonder castle is a werewolf and a witch, she kidnapped all the women of the town and turned them into wolves, and in return for sparing our lives demands that we let the creatures that were once our mothers, wives and daughters take any travellers who pass through. Men are devoured, the women are taken to the castle, and become wolves. Ain't no-one been up there to see exactly how it is she's doin' it."

"Brilliant!" McKenzie grinned brightly at Keb. "Bit of motivation brought out the executive summary writer in you, see? Right. Leni - silver works on werewolves in all the films I've ever seen, is that bullshit or does it work to the best of your knowledge?"

"Yeah, it works. You stick a werewolf with a silver sword, it stays stuck," Leni answered. "Listen, McKenzie, I've got a bit of a proble-"

"She be a witch an' all! A powerful 'un!" The landlord cried, ignoring Leni. "And anyway, where you gonna find enough silver to make a sword?"

"Dunno," McKenzie said. "But I reckon I can knock up a half-decent prison shiv with just what you took off of us earlier tonight, so empty your fuckin' pockets fat boy, then show me the way to the town smithy."

- o O o -

The town smithy proved to be quite close to the gate, where the sound of frantic sawing could be heard. The two guards were trying to repair the breached door.

"The fire's banked for the night," the blacksmith, who had been in the inn, said. "It'll take an hour at least to-"

McKenzie pointed at the smithy fire and unleashed a two second stream of pure fire which instantly brought it to a healthy red glow.

"Magic!" Keb said. Some of the other locals - they'd all followed McKenzie - gasped.

"Nothin' gets past you lot, does it?" McKenzie said flatly. He dumped a handful of silver coins on top of the anvil. "Make me a knife or something then." He said.

"There's barely enough here to make a nail!" The smith protested.

"Hmm," McKenzie said. "In that case, how's about you just make these really shiny for me?" He dug out the knuckledusters he'd confiscated earlier and held them in front of the smith's nose. "Can you do that in five minutes?"

It took seven and a half minutes and another blast of magical fire, and then McKenzie was loping through the forest at top speed, with Leni shouting after him.