"What have you done? You have ruined everything!"

  Guelder's furious cry made Amiri stop mid-motion before she brought down Ginormous a third time on the Defaced Sister's head, already smashed to pulp. It was a bad idea to disrupt her. She lifted her hazy eyes from her victim, and locked on her next target, the one who called her out.

  Somewhere behind, Valerie tried in vain to extricate herself from Linzi's hug. The little bard clung to her neck like a kid to her mother, starting to whine at the slightest hint that Valerie wanted to put her down from her arms. In this way, those bloody soul eaters had put not one, but two of Guelder's companions out of commission – and also made normal communication unsafe. Soul eaters were bad enough in and of themselves, but if their conjurer sicced them on someone using the target's name, that was an entirely new level of dangerous. Guelder didn't know if randomly learning a foe's name mattered to those fiends, but she was not keen on finding out. Not after what they'd done to Linzi.

  Harrim, forgotten by everyone as usual, muttered a spell into his beard, his hand imitating the moves of tying a knot. Amiri froze for a moment, then let out a guttural roar and tore herself out of the invisible shackles the cleric was attempting to paralyse her with. She raised her sword above her head and charged at Guelder.

  The baroness didn't budge. She waited, motionless, gripping her spear with both hands, trusting her cat instinct to dodge the blow at the last moment and trip Amiri with the shaft, in the very unlikely case Pangur failed her.

  Of course, though, Hazel didn't trust anything but themself.

  The ranger pushed Guelder out of the way, slamming an arm painfully into her half-healed ribs, and quickly positioned themself in front of Amiri, ready to take the blow meant for their friend. However, the attack never connected. After the first few steps, Amiri tripped over a growling, furry obstacle and fell to the ground like a tree chopped down. The rage left her in a moment, but the anger remained.

  "That bitch brought innocent people here to die!" she sputtered as she scrambled to her feet, her unfocused eyes seeking out the baroness. "Like sheep to the slaughter, dammit! Fuck her, and fuck you if you defend her!"

  Basically, Amiri was right, her point proved by more than a dozen Tiger Lord corpses scattered across the dungeon. The Sister had most probably deserved her gruesome fate, and in any other situation, Guelder wouldn't have challenged Amiri's course of action. This time, however, she had a bargain to keep. The fact that Hazel never shut the hell up about how stupid it was to make one in the first place didn't change anything.

  Guelder regained her balance after Hazel's intervention, pretending that she'd never even lost it, and rose to the challenge.

  "I was supposed to deliver her to the camp alive! That was my only chance to find out what happened to the baron, and now you messed it all up!"

  "Cop on, ladies!" grumbled Harrim, who didn't seem to take it all seriously enough. "There's no use to cry over spilt brains. She'll respawn in the First World anyway, reunite with her sisters, and they'll live happily ever after, until Groetus deems it's been enough."

  Amiri spat a mouthful of froth on the ground, panting heavily.

  "I hope she returns," she growled. "Then I can kill her again."

  "What were the exact words you exchanged with the Sister in camp?" asked Hazel. "What did you promise to deliver?"

  "I cannot remember!" snapped the baroness. "The gist of it was –"

  "Not the gist. The words. By the storms, Your Grace, you do not make a pact without putting the contract in writing or at least memorising it! Did you not learn your lesson after the Restovic builders' guild robbed you blind?"

  That had Guelder thinking, but didn't really help her recall the details. This mission was slowly driving her mad. The oppressively tall and thick stone walls, radiating the cold of crypts, the restless dead, the utter lack of life apart from herself, her companions and her emergency plant seeds had her nerves vibrating with apprehension, and her unsatisfactory night rest didn't help, either.

  "Har... erm, the dwarf is right," chimed in Valerie, stroking Linzi's back. "Fey don't care about dying. That Sister probably only needs the findings. Whether the other Sisters live or die or respawn is either completely irrelevant to her, or it is just a minor setback in her quest."

  Guelder lowered her head.

  "You have a point," she said. She met Amiri's gaze. "I am sorry. I should not have –"

  A series of caws interrupted her apology, forming the semblance of a cackle. The raven was perching on top of a sarcophagus lid, eyeing them with dark amusement. Guelder clenched her fists. How in the brambles could that thing navigate this maze with all those moving walls and clunky switches? Could it teleport? If not, how had she not seen it follow them?

  She let out a weary sigh.

  "What is it again, raven thing? If you have information for me, spit it out. But if it is just another tirade against morally questionable adventurers treading the soil of these ancient lands, save your breath. I mean, if you breathe at all."

  "You have sharp eyes, thief," cawed the bird.

  "And I intend to keep them, too. Is this all you have to say? Begone, then, before I ruffle your sleek black feathers."

  "You don't get to order me around, puny mortal. You can't even keep your own servants in line. I take orders from only one person."

  Guelder raised an eyebrow. This conversation was getting interesting.

  "And who might that be?"

  "My master is the one true lord of these lands," intoned the raven.

  "His name, if you please."

  "You never told me your name. Why would I tell you his?"

  Too bad. She already had a guess, and it would have been nice to see it confirmed.

  "Give him my regards, then, until we meet in person. I expect we have much to discuss."

  With the slightest nod of her head, she gave permission to Pangur to attack. Alas, he missed his pounce, and the raven lazily glided out of the dungeon on a draft no one else felt.

  Despoiled of the possibility to observe a gruesome scene of nature red in fangs and claws, Guelder decided to search through the dead fey's earthly possessions instead, before the corpse would dissolve into thin air and return to the First World. Ginormous had made it impossible to check what her face was like beneath the shroud, but the findings, if she had any, had to be somewhere on her person.

  Besides a somewhat bloodstained dagger and a meagre quantity of gold pieces, Guelder found a censer shaped like a cyclopean skull, filled with some sort of ancient, half-rotten incense. At first glance, it didn't seem magical, but Guelder preferred to have a second opinion on that. Her gaze fell upon Linzi dripping saliva upon Valerie's armour, and decided to turn to Harrim instead. The dwarf took the item, weighing it in his hand.

  "Feels safe to use," he finally said. "No trap, no curse, no special powers. Not a mimic, either. Just an ancient object, still operational and potentially useful."

  "Awesome," growled Valerie. "Now would you all mind doing something about the deplorable state of our bard? I'm not ready for being the stepmother of an oversized baby!"

  Indeed, something had to be done. Linzi was the only one who could make some sense of the cyclopean inscriptions with the help of her pocket book – or she had been, until she'd wandered into that chamber with the soul eaters. Without her, Guelder would have never found out that Vordakai was actually a person, an ancient ruler whose power reached beyond the grave. However, their supplies of diamond dust were limited. Nightvale was not yet rich enough to endlessly provide for the special needs of its ruler and her team. Which meant Guelder would have to use nature's more readily available resources instead: an advanced version of the restorative mud bath she'd planned to avail of to counterbalance her sleep deprivation.

  But in order to prepare that, she needed a place with actual soil.

  Finally outside the dungeon, she spotted a small stand of trees nearby. It seemed as good a place as any to make camp and restore Linzi's impaired mental abilities. First, though, she sent out Hazel to check for any hidden danger.

  When the ranger returned, they looked pale and haunted.

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  "I do not recommend that place," they said. "That copse is home to a beehive. We had better give it a wide berth."

  "Honey! Honey!" enthused Linzi. This was the first articulated word she managed to utter since the soul eater incident.

  "Not honey," sighed Valerie. "Stings. Poison. Hurt. Pain. Death. Does any of those ring a bell?"

  "Hurt?"

  "Mhm. Hurt. Like my lower back does from carrying you around."

  Linzi made an apologetic sound and planted a very wet kiss on Valerie's cheek, which the fighter rubbed off immediately, rolling her eyes.

  Guelder drew Hazel aside for a moment.

  "Is something wrong, friend?" she asked softly in Elven. "I have never seen you so troubled over a colony of insects. Is there something you are not telling me?"

  Hazel looked away, shaking their head.

  "It is just... just..." They pressed their lips together, avoiding Guelder's gaze.

  It made no sense to force them to open up. Instead, she pulled them into an embrace. This time, however, it didn't work its magic. Hazel's body remained as tense as before, a tight ball of anguish, trying in vain to keep their weakness hidden. There was something serious going on in them. Perhaps a flashback from their childhood. Time and again, they'd let slip a remark that pointed towards a dark past, full of abuse from those who'd been supposed to protect them. But... bees? Guelder realised how little she knew about Hazel, even after all these years. She gave an encouraging squeeze to their arms and let them go.

  "We shall not disturb the bees," she announced. "Let us find another place to rest."

  They finally set up camp further to the south, at the foot of the mountains, where the arid grassland was gradually replaced by the forest. Guelder sat Linzi on her lap until Valerie and Harrim dug a sufficiently spacious hole into the ground. She gently lowered Linzi into it, as if into a bathtub, letting her head rest on the lip of the hole, and emptied her canteen of water into the soil to start the mud.

  Guelder removed her gloves and let her fingers sink into the soft, wet soil, feeling a thousand forms of life vibrating, scurrying, writhing, growing, decaying inside it. The delicate pulse of power flowed through her, and she channelled it into the mud, making it bubble, spread and rise, until it filled up the hole and covered Linzi's body. All things were one. The coalescing pieces of a mangled soul, the healing power of earth and water, the life of the land, oppressed by an evil force but still breathing underneath, bidding its time to spring up and blossom again. The soil of Varnhold responded to the ruler of Nightvale. A bond was taking shape. Tapping into the power of the very soil to mend what was broken, Guelder pledged herself to heal the land. Her duty was not only to her allies anymore. She had to wipe out the evil looming over Varnhold, even if she was too late to save its people.

  But could she claim the pain and death plaguing the land without claiming the land itself?

  In the ecstasy of communion, she almost completely forgot about Linzi.

  For a while, there were only happy moans coming from the bard, enjoying the warm embrace of the earth, drawing in the beneficial energy. Then the moans formed into articulated words.

  "Mmm, this feels so good! Do we have a cucumber? I could use two slices on my eyes!"

  "Good to have you back, little one!" said Guelder with a smile, leaning against her backpack. She hadn't even realised how much the spell had taken out of her.

  "Little one?" asked Linzi indignantly.

  "Remember what happened to you? Soul eaters are more dangerous if they know your name. In case we are going to meet more of them, it is best to avoid using our names wherever we can."

  Linzi sat up in her bath, splashing some mud on Guelder.

  "This is actually fun! Time to brainstorm for nicknames! I mean, we don't want to call each other 'dwarf' and 'cleric' and such, right? Right?"

  "I am afraid this is what we have been doing so far. But now that your brilliant mind is here with us again, feel free to share your ideas!"

  Valerie appeared with two thick slices of cucumber, to Linzi's greatest contentment, and carefully placed them on the bard's eyes, tousling her hair.

  "Let's call you Inky," she suggested. "I don't think I've ever seen you without a dash of ink smeared across your face."

  "I like that!" giggled Linzi. "How about yourself? Blonde?"

  "I'll go with Scar," said Valerie dryly.

  Guelder sighed inside. She'd hoped Valerie had already gotten over that ill-fated duel with her mentor, but no, she apparently still saw her beauty marred by his blow, even if she'd given up on hiding her face all the time.

  "Brighteyes would suit you better," suggested the baroness. "It reflects your personality more faithfully than either your hair colour or the memory of a wound."

  "Scar."

  "As you wish, friend."

  Linzi turned her cucumbered face towards Guelder's voice.

  "Your Grace, you will be Spots, obviously. And your beast friend... Spots Junior? Or simply Junior? I mean, I don't know if soul eaters go for animal souls as well, or even if animal souls are a thing, but best not to take chances, right?"

  Relieved to see Linzi healed, Guelder squeezed her hand, then left her in Valerie's care and went to help Hazel with the fire. The ranger was still troubled, but waved off Guelder's questions.

  The team dined on bread, hard cheese, smoked fish and cabbages, all salvaged from Varnhold Town, while the baroness made a plan for the next day.

  "I am going to split the party in order to cover more distance in a shorter timeframe. Team North will head to the City of Hollow Eyes. Its members will be Beard, Crusher, and myself with Junior. Team South will travel to the Forsaken Mound, whatever that is. Its members will be Scar, Inky and Falcon."

  Hazel contracted their eyebrows, but they bit back their question. Guelder answered it nonetheless.

  "Each team needs a tracker, a heavy hitter, and a caster able to initiate communication with the other team in the form of Sending or Nightmare. Yes, Inky, you will get to do the ritual again. Here. You can use this to find your way into my mind easier."

  The baroness took a knife and cut off a lock of her hair broken free from her bun. Before she could hand it to Linzi, Hazel touched her arm.

  "May I keep that safe until it is needed?"

  They had to make it about the two of them, didn't they? On the other hand, would denying them this seemingly insignificant thing not be unnecessarily cruel?

  "Of course. Make sure it does not get into your food, though."

  "Do you always have to trivialise everything?"

  Guelder stuffed the lock into a small pouch, the one she'd once received nightmoss spores in, and gave it to her friend. Sadly, nightmoss was ineffective against whatever Hazel was grappling with.

  Hazel took the first turn to keep watch, cradling a mug of steaming anti-nightmare tea in their hands. Guelder had planned to spend part of the night perusing the Chronicles of Varnhold, also looted from the keep, but finally decided against it. Hazel needed company, and she wanted to be there for them, for a change. Alas, in the last days she'd been too entangled in her own fears and problems to notice that her friend was struggling as well, for who knew how long.

  "If you want to talk, I am here to listen. Or we can just sit together, if you prefer."

  She couldn't make herself call them Falcon. Not that she had anything against birds of prey, but that name was like something Nyrissa would come up with... had she bothered assigning people animal names that actually fit them.

  They both sat in silence for a while, listening to the crackling of the dying fire and other noises of the night.

  "Back in Tuskdale, it was so easy to brush it all off," said Hazel softly, gazing at the embers. "Seen from a distance, Varnhold is just another state, distant political allies, even rivals. It is easy to forget that these are people we travelled and drank and made friends with... until we find their corpses."

  To Guelder, Hazel's dark words felt strangely reassuring. Somewhere underneath the mask of the ruthless politician they liked to wear these days, there was still a beating heart. But alas, the words of reassurance lined up neatly in Guelder's mind sounded hollow and meaningless in her head. She said them regardless. Her nascent bond with the land, wholesome as it felt, also frightened her. Why would the land reach out to her, a stranger, if not because its rightful ruler was gone forever?

  "We need to go on, friend. Yes, it feels vain and hopeless, like chasing the wind. Still, I shall leave no stone unturned to find them. And even if I fail to save them, I will break Vordakai's power and banish the evil from this land. I owe them that much."

  She didn't continue. Her pledge sounded like an arrogant, empty threat. When Vordakai calls, we go, said an inscription in the Sepulchre. The people of Varnhold had been powerless to resist his call. What made her think she and her companions would fare any better if he called again?

  Hazel suddenly turned towards her and grabbed her hand.

  "Guel, promise me that you will not die. Or at least, if you do, take me with you. Please."

  The baroness paused, taken aback by their words. Was there a good answer to that, apart from a hug?

  "I do not intend to let any one of us become a necromancer's puppet. I will do my best to survive, and I expect you to do the same. Is that okay?"

  Hazel looked away, fighting back tears. Guelder drew closer to them and put an arm around their shoulders.

  "I will stay with you tonight, in leopard form. Now it is my turn to keep the nightmares away from you."

  "May I mess with your fur?"

  "All right, you have my permission. And be sure to wake me up if my claws are needed."