We landed near the medical tent of the headquarters, but didn’t go into that one. “” he yelled into the tent next to it.

There was some grumbling from within, and the flap was flung aside, a sleepy-looking soldier in partial armor stepping out. His breastplate was off, showing the t-shirt wet with perspiration below. His hair was dark, his eyes brown and steady, and there was an air about him of resolve and quiet determination.

He looked at the floating Helix, then over at me sitting there on the Disk, and blinked at the sight of my eyes. “” he asked suspiciously, brow furrowing as he looked at me.

I felt the div sweep over me, and if the Aura that surrounded him hadn’t bluntly told me what he was, the use of the Eyes of Heaven would have.

I blithely popped up the Sanctified Darts, and watched him focus on them. He had a weird expression on his face as he looked back and forth from them to me. He looked at Helix, who just shrugged.

“”

“” He turned back to me, sitting there with my finger back in my ear. “”

“It’s fine,” I replied calmly, almost sighing. “I’ve got the residue of a death curse hanging over me, and a Death Domain aura... and Darkness... and Healing...” I scrunched up my face at his expression. “It’s been a very interesting three days since I woke up.”

“,” Helix added quietly. I dropped my hand, pulled up my shirt, and let them look at the wicked white scar zigzagging from down below my belt up and across my belly. The paladin’s face flickered with a hard edge to it, eyes almost glowing with subdued wrath.

“” I nodded distinct agreement with that, and said nothing as he put his callused hands on my forehead and the side of my throat.

I felt like something was bubbling and hissing in revulsion on the surface of my skin, but naturally couldn’t see anything.

“Hmm.” He took his hands back, frowning. “”

I obliged, and he placed his fingers on them gently, but firmly. He took them back, and I opened them to look at him.

He grunted, and looked at Helix, who could only purse his lips in surprise. “” He handed it over to the Paladin, who studied the picture with interest.

“” he asked perfunctorily, and handed it back to me.

“Traveler, now,” I half-sighed, waving at Helix, who just grinned. “Not that Elrii is my Truename.”

“Mmm,” the Paladin nodded. “”

“I’m aware.” I pointed with my chin at the med tent. “Is there someone in there who can help with my side? This is quite painful.” I kind of shook my shoulder, and grimaced.

“” the Paladin called out, gesturing me after him. I kind of kicked the Disk along that way, and Helix let it drift after the holy warrior.

---

The inside of the med tent was as expected: low cots that were mostly empty except for a couple soldiers idling with minor injuries and getting fixed up, and a couple of stations with supplies, bandages, pills, and the like. I gathered the Wands and Potions were locked away somewhere so the opportunistic didn’t make off with them.

“” answered a salt-and-peppered black man in his thirties, looking as stolid and grim as the god whose ivory scales and hammer were clearly shown on the black symbol on his chest. His dark eyes flicked past to focus on me. “” he asked with interest, looking me over.

“Shadow-touched. Strength damage to my left side. If you’ve a Restorative, I’d be obliged,” I informed him, lifting the side of my shirt up this time, displaying a thickening and unhealthy blue sheen all up and down my side.

“” Father Bower closed his eyes and chanted quietly, a firm white light glowing about his Symbol and his hands. His eyes flickered with a gleam of ivory as he opened them, and bent down to put his hands on my side.

The Lesser Restoration didn’t so much heal the damage as drive the negative energies afflicting me out in a boiling mist, which was promptly eaten by the white light. It basically undid the effect, leaving me only a little put out, and banished the pain in my feet as a happy side effect.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

His eyes didn’t miss the scar on my belly as his eyes dropped. He definitely had the Heal Ranks to know what it meant, and his eyes flashed. “” he asked softly, the spell letting him know I still had ability damage it hadn’t gotten rid of, and able to guess where it had come from.

“Sinbound. Took the baby. I killed four of them, the fifth could Shadowjump, and I had no way to chase him.” I flicked my finger, and a very accurate Holo of his face and body as I’d seen in the distance came up, complete with the swaddled child he was holding. “Apologies, I have no memories of him other than this.”

All three men stared at the Holo, obviously committing the sight to memory, possibly for replication. “” Father Bower asked in an iron voice.

He was vaguely amused when I held up a finger, put it in my ear, and asked him to repeat that. “He’s down four friends. Here are the wallets of two of them.” I flicked them out of my purse, and handed them over to him.

Harse, the Ivory King, was the Greater God of Justice, the Judge of the Living and the Dead. His Domains of interest were Law, Good, Justice, Death, and Protection. To be a Priest of Harse was to be a Good and Lawful man, a stern father figure who served and guided their community with an iron spine and harder will. They made superb bureaucrats, better judges, extremely daunting lawyers, and took their roles as protectors of the living and the dead very seriously, indeed.

Hunting down magical criminals like that asshole? They’d be looking for him for years, until he was confirmed dead by one means or another.

I noted the Mithran symbol on the silver chain around the Paladin’s throat, and sighed inside. I guess I was not going to be a Mithran Battlemage, after all...

“” I was not surprised the Cleric could feel all of them. He rose to his feet. “” I obviously didn’t have a Symbol showing.

“The Souls caught in the Shroud.” He blinked in shock. “I was drafted. Don’t blame me.”

His expression was interesting, caught between disbelief and a smile. “” he had to press.

“They are stealing the faith caught by the Shroud from those beneath it.” He blinked again. “Obvious, right?”

He and Sir Pellier looked somewhere between outraged and remorseful. Helix just looked intrigued.

“” His dark eyes flashed white again. “”

“” agreed Sir Pellier, and even Helix had to nod.

“If it is acceptable to you, Father, I’d like to borrow one of those cots to Meditate on, recover my Valences, and wait until my Dusk Renewal.” My smile kind of dribbled away at all their expressions. “Not my choice, either.”

“” he allowed grandly, giving me a shooing gesture. I hopped off the Disk, feeling much better. “” he asked me.

I smiled sadly at the question. “If I did, they would have come for me,” I answered softly, and all their faces fell together. “Thank you all for your help.”

They all answered that it was unnecessary, as I picked out a cot without anyone nearby, and sat down on it cross-legged.

Focus. Remove all the distractions. Expand awareness out to the environment, touch the magic in the air, the ground... and the link to that dreadful darkness sticking and clawing at the Land.

---------

“Uruth!” Helix blurted out quietly as he was exiting the tent. The other two followed his gaze to where the young half-elfin was in a classic Meditative pose... and the lights were already gathering to her.

“That is a very impressive Draw,” murmured Father Bower. “It’s at least as good as yours, Helix.”

“I can feel that,” he murmured. “For someone who has just had her Bloodline Awakened, she comes across as someone much, much harder...”

“If what she said is true, she’s a hard young woman. That is a lethal wound on her there, and make no mistake on it,” Father Bower told them quietly. “Someone has made a very dangerous enemy.”

“I’ve got to go report to the Captain about her. Keep an eye on her and make sure she’s not carrying around a ghost or demon or something for me, will you?” Helix smiled cheerfully, and both of the other men just shook their heads at him. He laughed and soared into the air exuberantly, heading back up the wall.

“What did you sense on her, Marvin?” Father Bower asked, as they watched the young Sorcerer fly away.

“She’s a Good soul, but there’s a Curse laying heavy on her. It’s not active, but it doesn’t want to leave her. That Shroudborn connection she has is what’s painting her eyes black; my touch returned them to silver for a moment, before they filled back in.” He hesitated, but forged ahead. “She’s got a hard, strong soul, Amos. You know what kids are like at her age; haven’t settled into any beliefs yet, trying shit out. Unless I’m half-blind, she’s as solid a Gold as I’ve ever seen, even if it’s not that bright.”

“Gold?” The Harsite glanced back into his closed tent. “I’d’ve thought her Green at best, the way she talks. How do you stay Gold with that kind of emotional trauma at her age?”

“Like I said, hard Gold. I got the distinct impression that she could watch the slaughter and horrid deaths of everyone here and it wouldn’t change her beliefs an iota.”

The Cleric sucked in a breath. “That is indeed very hard, Marvin.”

The Paladin clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got to rest for the night shift. I’ve a feeling that she’ll be wanting to go up there.”

---

Father Bower watched the Paladin go into his tent to rest, not envying the knight of Mithar at all.

Fearless and immune to charm spells, the elite Paladins and their ability to sense Evil made the perfect night guards for the Walls, but alas, there just weren’t enough of them around who would put up with doing guard duty.

Lesser men who pulled night duty had to be rotated out frequently. Even if they couldn’t understand what the spirits were saying, it could cause nightmares, and one of the things the Priests accompanying the units had to do every morning was gather the men and enact a Remove Fear Ritual, so that the men wouldn’t have nightmares after their shift.

The girl was going to go up on the wall? After escaping from the Shroudzone? For what possible purpose?

He thought about that, and then flicked his hand.

A pale white, cone-shaped Dart appeared above his hand. It was a basic orison, a defense against the undead if no better weapon was available.

He had never seen ones that were black, limned in silver, and seething with Banefire, holy fire, and whatever that white fire had been. Those little Darts had looked formidable...