Willow slowly sat down with her back against the parapet. Tara shook herself back to awareness after staring at the bodies for a moment, realized she would be silhouetted against the sky if anything happened to look towards the monastery, and crouched down. She did her best to put the sight of the bodies out of her mind. 'Not now,' she thought, 'later on, then you can be sad for them, be frustrated at the existence of evil, be angry at whatever did this. Not now. Now, think. You're not going to die here, and neither is Willow. That means there's a safe way out. Find it.'

Tara took a deep breath and glanced at Willow. She was staring back across the courtyard, seeing nothing. Tara gently put a hand on her shoulder, which made her start briefly. She glanced at Tara, as if she had been in some private world and was surprised to find anyone sharing it with her, then closed her eyes and laid her head down on Tara's hand.

"What's happening," she said in a small voice, "all this... why is it..." She took a slow breath and turned to Tara. "I-" she began, but as soon as she spoke her voice cracked and she flung her arms around Tara, hugging her fiercely, burying her face in her hair and crying.

Tara automatically soothed her, stroking her hair, her other arm tight and reassuring around her waist. She wanted to tell her everything was alright, that there was no need to fear, but she couldn't lie, so she said the only thing she could.

"I'm here," she whispered, "I've got you... I promise I'll never let go."

"Never?" Willow's voice was that of a child, tiny and frightened by an incomprehensible world.

"Never," Tara repeated. Willow nodded against her shoulder, and her embrace became less desperate, more accepting of comfort than pleading for it.

"Of course, I mean that in the metaphorical sense," Tara said, trying to inject some levity into her voice, and surprisingly succeeding, "it'd be kind of difficult to get around with me wrapped around you all the time." Willow snorted, paused, then giggled.

"I think I'd be willing to put up with a little inconvenience," she said in a wavering voice, which gathered strength as she went on: "and besides, I'd be the envy of all the other sorceresses."

"Before they know it," Tara added, laughing along, "back home they'd be knee deep in sorceresses, all looking for an Amazon of their own." Willow laughed too, and finally relaxed, leaning back against the parapet again.

"Oh..." she said, recovering, "I... I'm sorry, I-"

"Hey," Tara said gently, "remember what you said in the tunnel? I don't need an all-powerful sorceress either. Just you." Willow glanced at her, meeting her gaze, and then took her hand and tenderly kissed the palm.

"So," she said, "we're here... do we get out as fast as we can, or search the place, or... what do we do?"

"I don't think we need to run for it just yet," Tara said, "the gate's solid. I can't imagine a Carver getting through that, can you?"

"No way," Willow said, "I think maybe even their fire magic wouldn't be strong enough. Not without a lot of work, anyway."

"Alright, so we're safe from anything coming through the gate. Do places like this have other entrances?" Willow raised an eyebrow, then frowned in thought.

"Sometimes, a back gate," she said, "we could check, I suppose... but that's usually so people can get out if the gate's attacked, but they've got the tunnel in the catacombs, even if there's just the one that's better than a back gate. You're not thinking of staying here, are you?"

"Not longer than we have to," Tara said, "but I don't think we should leave before we find out what's here. We might find something that'll help us. You think there might be more than one tunnel?"

"There's five villages," Willow said with a shrug. "You're right, we should get our bearings. It's just this place is reminding me of the village... all empty."

"Me too," Tara said, "so the first thing we do is search it and look for any sign at all that any demons have been in here. If we find anything – broken doors, storehouses raided, anything like that – I think we should leave at once. If not, then I think we can take our time, maybe spend the night here and set out again tomorrow."

"Okay," Willow nodded, "okay, it's a plan. Where do we start?"

"Well, we're on the wall," Tara said after a moment's thought, "we might as well check the perimeter. We're pretty high up here, we should be able to get a good view of the countryside as well. Maybe see a route to the river."

They made their way along the wall to the north-west corner. To the south and east, the corners of the monastery were marked by squat, solid stone guardhouses. The other corners, where Willow and Tara stood, and the south-east opposite them, were just wooden platforms set against the walls, enough to give a good vantage point, but little else. Willow looked sadly down from the platform, where a small garden was laid out, vines and vegetables all in rows, in the shadow of a row of old sheds backing onto a stone building.

"That's quite pretty," she said distantly.

"Yeah," Tara agreed quietly. She took Willow's hand and they moved on, along the northern wall. The roof of the monastery's largest building met the wall just beneath the level of the walkway, and continued most of its length. Half-way along there was a large skylight, and Willow peered through it.

"Looks like barracks," she said. "Beds and cupboards... nothing out of place."

"There's a stairwell up ahead," Tara pointed out, "we'll check inside."

"Okay," Willow agreed. She glanced out across the wall, to where a second village lay, two miles from the one they had arrived at. "I've got to start carrying a telescope," she said flatly.

"It's too close to the western village," Tara said, "I don't think it's safe. Same goes for the one further down the south road, the Carvers must've gone past it on their way up towards us. They wouldn't have left it alone, or gone near it if it was defended." Willow nodded.

"So that leaves two?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," Tara said, "out to the east somewhere. If there's a tunnel, we might be able to cover some ground that way without being seen. If the villages look deserted. We'll have to be careful."

The stairwell led down to a small patch of ground up against the bulk of the north-east guardhouse, home to a pair of dilapidated bee hives that seemed to have been long empty. The guardhouse was likewise empty, the sturdy door unlocked, so they entered the barracks by a side door.

Within there was no sign of disturbance. The long hall of beds Willow had looked into was on the first floor, and Tara counted thirty-two beds out of fifty neatly made, the others bare with their sheets and blankets stored away in closets beside them. The occasional book and candle on the bedside tables were the only sign of the former inhabitants.

He lower floor contained kitchens, the stoves cold, the pots and pans all washed and hanging from hooks on the walls. The store rooms nearby were full of supplies, their shelves packed with dried foods, sacks of grain and flour, tins containing spices and seasonings. One was full of heavy sacks and barrels, divided up into five stacks, which Willow guessed were the supplies sent up from the five villages for safe-keeping. There was a ledger on a wooden pedestal just inside the door, and Willow flipped through the pages until she found the receipt of the delivery they had read about in the village's record-book. Lining all the previous pages were thousands of similar entries, deliveries and collections, but only two more lines came after it – flour from the south-west village, and a sack of grain delivered to the south-east, and then the pages were empty.

At the end of the building's central corridor was another stairwell leading down into the catacombs, and opposite it a doorway leading out into an alley between the barracks and the back of the building Willow and Tara had first emerged from. Willow poked her head around the corner, finding the garden she had seen from the wall, then followed Tara back inside. As well as the stairwell they had come up through, they found another, leading straight down rather than circular, and a large room where piles of old books lay, gathering dust.

"Library?" Tara guessed.

"Probably a store room for the library," Willow said, "places like this usually have reading tables in the proper libraries, so the monks can study their texts and make new copies of them. There's nothing here but shelves." She blew a cloud of dust off the spines of a stack of books, shoves haphazardly on a shelf, and sneezed quietly.

"Okay?" Tara asked.

"Yeah," Willow grinned, "but my sense of knowledge-girl-ness is acting up. Disorganized shelves sort of call to me, 'come here, catalogue us.' Not exactly the right time, though."

They walked back into the main courtyard and crossed it, arriving in front of an impressive-looking building fashioned something like a church.

"The old keep," Willow suggested, "I bet the real library's in here." Inside they found a handful of offices, bare and apparently little used, and as Willow had predicted, the library proper. Lit by skylights, the chamber contained rows of books covering the walls of two stories, with ladders on wheels that ran along brass railings secured to the shelves. Tara glanced at one of the books open on a table, and found it to be a half-finished volume of prayers, with colorful borders and illustrations painstakingly copied from the original sitting on a display stand a few feet away. Beside the open book, a row of pens and ink pots lay, as if the owner had just stepped out for a moment. Tara picked up a pen and studied the tip, noticing that it had been cleaned of ink before it had been left.

"And all the pots are closed," Willow noted, watching Tara, "whoever was doing this didn't run out in a hurry. I mean, if you're racing to defend your home, you don't stop to close your ink pots first, do you? And look at this," she gestured around the library. "Gold leaf on the crosses, and those medallions look like solid silver. If demons had been in here, they'd have torn the place apart. What are we dealing with here, obsessively tidy evil?" Tara stifled a laugh and shrugged.

They left the library – Willow with some reluctance, though Tara suspected she was playing it up for comical effect, to keep both their spirits up. Through a side door they came to another building backing onto the south wall, containing a forge and, behind an iron-bound door that was nonetheless unlocked, a small armory. Tara ran a speculative eye across the rows of halberds, short swords and crossbows lines up neatly against the walls.

"It looks fully-stocked," she said with a puzzled frown, "they didn't take any weapons?"

"I'm not liking this," Willow said grimly. Tara took her hand reassuringly.

"Do you want to see if we can find the tunnel out?" she asked. Willow shook her head.

"I just mean in general," she explained, "I like things I can understand. Even if they're not good, like Carvers attacking the caravan, at least I can figure out why it happened, what they want, what to do about it. This is just," she shrugged, "none of it makes any sense. Something comes through here, kills the villagers and leaves the villages open for Carvers to wander in, kills the brothers outside the monastery but doesn't come inside... I don't get it."

"I don't either," Tara said gently, "we just have to do our best. And I know the moment all this can be figured out, you will."

"I hope so," Willow said uncertainly.

"I know so," Tara replied. Together they walked along the narrow alley between the library building and the south wall, and came to another small garden, this one just empty soil, apparently waiting for planting. To one side was the back of a circular building, like a low tower, that Tara had noticed when they first looked out over the courtyard.

"What is that?" she wondered.

"The decorations are more religiously significant than on the other buildings," Willow observed, "I'd guess it's where the brothers did their praying."

They entered by a side door and found the interior of the building hollow, just a round space with benches arranged in a circle beneath the low domed roof. Old, thick candles hung in iron rings supported by thin chains from the ceiling, and near the main door a censer hung on a hook. The decorations on the walls were what caught Tara's attention – from within, the building's circular wall was divided by stone columns into flat segments, two occupied with doors, two blank, the other six painted with beautifully detailed representations of fantastic scenes.

"Creation," Willow said, pointing to the wall directly to the right of the main door, which showed light streaming from beneath a shimmering archway, forming mountains and rivers as it flowed out.

"I've seen places like this before," Willow explained, "each panel is part of the history of the world. The edited highlights version," she added with a grin, "otherwise they'd need a few more walls. That one's the Crystal Arch in the center of heaven. On one side there's all of us, heaven, the world, the burning hells, the whole lot. On the other side there's the Power That Is. According to the Zakarum legend, the gates in the Arch opened to create the world, so that Her power could take material form and shape the world and all the planes around it." She turned to the next panel, where an army of angels was sweeping down out of the sky to meet a rising tide of dark, malformed creatures.

"The Great Conflict," she went on, "in which the Lords of hell collectively lost their temper and waged war on heaven. The Lord of Destruction actually set foot in heaven itself before the Archangel Tyrael led a counterattack that drove the demons back to hell. And then," she turned to the next panel, where an army of men was marching towards a force of demons and monsters.

"The Sin Wars," she said with a grimace, "which is what happened when the Lords of hell lost the Great Conflict. The Lesser Evils decided the Prime Evils weren't capable of leading hell to victory, so they joined forces and exiled them to the mortal realm. Up until then everyone had pretty much ignored us."

"It looks terrible," Tara said quietly. In the background of the painting the sky was black, streaked with blood-red clouds, and the lands and cities in the distance were burning.

"The histories from that time are myths and legends," Willow observed, "but even if half of what they say is pure exaggeration, it was still about as bad as it's possible to get, short of completely destroying Sanctuary and everything living in it. The leaders of the armies of humanity were the first of the Horadrim mages. They learned how to wield magic, and used it to fight back against the Prime Evils and the armies they raised. That's when hybrid demons were created, by the way," she added.

"There's an angel," Tara pointed out, "is it?" Willow nodded.

"Tyrael again," she said, "he defied the command of the Power That Is and joined in the war against the demons here. Some legends say he gave the Horadrim the magic to defeat the three Prime Evils. Of course, some legends say that the Horadrim would've got them anyway, and Tyrael's intervention actually prevented the Prime Evils from being banished properly."

"Which is it?"

"I guess both sides have a point," Willow said with a thoughtful expression, "on the one hand, Tyrael helped the Horadrim end the Sin Wars and bring peace to Sanctuary. On the other hand, the Prime Evils were contained here, not banished back to hell, which is why they rose up again during the Reckoning. The Zann Esu always believed that we'd only be rid of them once we defeated them ourselves, without being helped."

"If you want something done properly, do it yourself?" Tara quipped.

"Yeah, pretty much," Willow laughed, "though I think the old Esu witches were given to more dramatic language. All about prophecy and destiny, but that's what it boils down to. Anyway, after the Sin Wars, we have... a door." She skipped the section of wall containing the side door, and moved on to the next, which showed a great city of temples and towers, basking under the setting sun.

"We're probably supposed to ignore the door," she went on, "unless it's some weird metaphor or something. That's the old Empire before it went into decline. The Sin Wars united all the peoples of Sanctuary, and they got a long way before it all degenerated into politics and civil wars, and we ended up back at the familiar, frustrating level we're at now. There was probably one of those temples on this very spot back then."

"And now all that's left is the catacombs," Tara mused.

"Yeah," Willow nodded, "this is why the Vizjerei philosophers call free will a two-edged sword. We're free to achieve anything we want, and free to make a mess of it too. Speaking of making a mess," she turned to face the fifth panel, which showed towers standing over a bleak landscape, and the sky torn by fire and lightning.

"The Mage Wars," Willow said, "the Vizjerei clan split and almost destroyed itself. This was about the time the Zann Esu formed, and went into self-imposed exile. You can see why."

"What were they fighting over?"

"There were two brothers," Willow explained, "Horazon and Bartuc, the most powerful of the Vizjerei of the time, maybe the most powerful of all time. Both of them were worried that the Sin Wars hadn't finished properly, and that they'd have to face the Prime Evils again. Horazon wanted to use force to bind lesser demons to his will, so he could study them and find out how to defeat them, and eventually how to defeat the Prime Evils. He built a huge fortress called the Arcane Sanctuary, which was supposed to exist partly in the world, and partly in the ethereal planes. He did experiments there, summoning demons and binding them, testing out ways of controlling and banishing them.

"Bartuc got impatient, and according to some of the legends, envious of his brother's achievements, as Horazon never let him enter the Arcane Sanctuary. He decided that, seeing as the Lesser Evils had exiled the Prime Evils, it would be easier to make an alliance with them."

"And the demons got control of him?" Tara guessed.

"More or less," Willow said, "but they were manipulating Horazon as well, somehow. Both of them rallied their supporters and the Vizjerei started fighting each other... not really their finest hour, collectively. The Esu witches went into exile, and none of the other clans were strong enough to get involved without getting wiped out. All the Vizjerei factions accused each other of being in league with demons, most of the panicked and started haphazard research into summoning and banishing and got corrupted themselves... the whole clan structure more or less collapsed. Meanwhile everyone who wasn't a mage was busy just trying like hell to stay alive, what with magic flying around as the factions tried to destroy each other."

"How did it end?" Tara asked.

"Horazon killed Bartuc," Willow said. "Everyone thought Bartuc would win, he had more power, he had huge armies of demons following him, and Horazon's allies were deserting him. Bartuc used his power to enter the Arcane Sanctuary, and he and Horazon fought. In the end, Bartuc was dead, and Horazon vanished. The surviving Vizjerei picked themselves up and started again, with new laws forbidding any summoning of demons, for any reason. That's when they created the Viz-Jaq'taar order, the Mage Slayers, to enforce the laws."

"Are they mages as well?"

"No," Willow said, "no-one knows that much about them, but supposedly they don't use any magic at all, so they're impossible to corrupt. They're supposed to have developed other skills that let them defeat mages, though they're pretty secretive about what they are." Together they turned to the next panel, which was largely blank, with only a few patches of detail, and sketched lines extending out from those.

"Not finished yet," Willow observed quietly, "these sorts of paintings are usually done a tiny little bit at a time, they take years to complete. I guess one day someone'll finish this one."

"What's it supposed to be?"

"The Reckoning," Willow said, pointing to two dark outlines, "look, those must be two of the Prime Evils. The third one's just being sketched in, you can see some of the lines." She shivered looking at the painting. The vaguely-drawn figures had only a few patches of detail on them, including their eyes, so that they glared hatefully out of half-finished faces.

"Diablo, Lord of Terror," Willow said, indicating the figure on the left, which was sketched as being bulky and bestial. One half of a pair of curved horns had been painted, and a third horn on its forehead, straight and glowing, had only a few details painted onto it, and was largely just a blotch of bright red. Tara took in the vague shapes of claws and spines.

"And the others?" she asked. Willow pointed to the other clear figure, on the right, which was thinner and taller then the first. Four horns adorned its narrow, angular head, two pointing up, two downward and curling around the thin jaw. The eyes and forehead had been painted in, showing yellow eyes brooding under pale, sickly-looking skin covering the brows. One arm was almost complete, showing more of the unearthly skin tone, as well as long, bony talons ending in razor-sharp nails.

"That's probably Mephisto," Willow guessed, "the Lord of Hatred. He corrupted the leaders of the Zakarum church, and nearly destroyed it. The church is still rebuilding. Luckily – if you can call it that – all the corrupt members were killed during the fighting, so what's left of them aren't a danger." She shook her head. "Hell of a way to reform the system. That last one must be Baal, then. Lord of Destruction."

The third figure, looming over the other two, was defined only in the vaguest terms, a few sketched lines here and there to mark the position of head and shoulders. Only the eyes had been painted, a pair of black slits with tiny trails of blue and gray in them, like an oil slick.

"Why do they all have the eyes painted?" Tara wondered. "It's kind of creepy."

"It is, isn't it?" Willow agreed, peering at the work in progress. "I don't know if it's the same down here, but further north they always start paintings of religious figures – angels and demons – with the eyes. I'm not sure why, it's just the way it's always been done. Superstition." Tara glanced at Willow slyly.

"And your theory?" she asked.

"What makes you think I have a theory?" Willow replied. Tara raised an eyebrow. "Okay, yes, well, I think it's to do with depicting figures of supernatural power. The eyes are the link between an angel or a demon's true form, which they inhabit in heaven or hell respectively, and their physical form which they assume when they're summoned or manifested here in Sanctuary. I think the reason for painting the eyes first is that otherwise you're depicting a supernatural form without a link to its true self, which might be viewed as blasphemous, or disrespectful or something."

"Interesting," Tara observed.

"That's not based on solid evidence," Willow cautioned, "just, you know, guessing. I don't like not knowing the answers to things, so even if I don't have a clue, I like to try to find a theory that fits the facts, even if it is just guesswork."

"I've noticed that about you," Tara said with a smile. "Actually, when I draw people the first part I do in detail is the eyes."

"Really?"

"It's an old habit," Tara went on, "I used to think if I could get the eyes right, everything else would just sort of fall into place." She shrugged. "It seems to work."

"It does," Willow agreed.

"Why are there two blank walls?" Tara wondered.

"I guess, in case any more world-changing events happen, and they need space to paint them."

"Does that mean," Tara glanced at the various panels, "the history of the world is three-quarters over?"

"Not necessarily," Willow said, wandering around the worship hall, inspecting various details. "The Empire rose to power less than a hundred years after the end of the Sin Wars, and the Mage Wars happened right afterward the fall of the Empire. Then it was centuries until the Reckoning. On an earth-shaking global scale, nothing much happened between them, so no painting. Then again," she shrugged, "maybe if they get two more paintings done and then, I don't know, a new sun appears, or there's a huge flood or something, they'll just start on a new set of walls. They did that in Kurast, you know. The Zakarum church's baptistery doors were cast bronze with a dozen panels on each one, all showing the church's history. Holy wars, mainly," she added with a scowl. "Once it was finished, they waited until they'd accumulated enough extra history, and cast up a new set of doors for the cloister outside. Of course the whole place was demolished during the Reckoning. I'm not sure if they're rebuilding it now, or trying something different."

She walked from painting to painting, studying them vaguely as she talked.

"Of course, it's possible that this Order really does think there's only two great events left in the whole history of the world," she went on. "A lot of the Zakarum sects have fairly elaborate prophetic writings. Some more accurate than others, of course – the monks of Khanduras are said to have predicted the Mage Wars. Then again, there's a sect way up-river in Kehjistan that used to believe the world was going to end in fifty years, two hundred years ago. Ember told me about them. They had this strict warrior culture, preparing for the battle at the end of the world, and then it didn't happen."

"What did they do?"

"Well, all things considered, I suppose they took it fairly well," Willow said. "They're farmers now. The central coven of the Zakarum believe that in the end the Crystal Arch will open again, and the Power That Is will bring all the faithful to Herself. Most demons believe that one day the Great Conflict will resume, and they'll storm heaven and get through the Arch, and become the Power themselves. Armageddon, they call it. Do Amazons have any prophecies?"

"Not really," Tara replied, "not fate-of-the-world kinds of prophecies. Zerae gives visions now and then, but they're vague. They're all written down by her priests and priestesses. Some of them are clear, once you know what it is they're talking about, the ones that have already happened. The priests study all the unfulfilled prophecies, and all the history they can get their hands on, trying to figure out what they might mean. None of them have ever been about the ultimate end of the world, though. They're just, you know, enemies coming, times of peace and prosperity, heroes showing up in times of danger."

"The Zann Esu Oracles are like that," Willow nodded, "they're recording prophecies all the time, but only the really big ones are solid enough to plan for. They saw the Reckoning coming centuries away, but hey, all three Prime Evils rising at once. That sort of thing probably stands out pretty plainly on the fortune-telling horizon, or however they see things."

"What do they foresee now?" Tara wondered.

"Oh, the usual," Willow shrugged, "there's still evil in the world, so the Zann Esu are still needed. Nothing so solid as the Reckoning, just, you know, general evil. Like we're stuck in the middle of," she added with a pout. "Where it's all going, they're not sure. Supposedly they see bits and pieces of everything, but there's apparently a lot of history happening, so it's not easy to sort it all out." She paused, and glanced at Tara. "What do you think? Just you personally, I mean?" Tara shrugged and put an arm around Willow's waist.

"I think we make our own fate," she said. "I think there's tides and forces at work that can move history in ways that can be foreseen, but that doesn't mean things have to go that way. If you stand against the tide... well, probably you'll end up being carried along by it," she grinned, "but, you know, maybe in a slightly different direction than if you'd just given in to it. Or maybe you'll change everything." She looked at Willow, who was smiling at her. "What about you?"

"Oh," Willow said, thinking, "well... I never really thought about prophecy and fate, apart from in the theoretical sense. I mean, no-one's ever told me," she adopted a deep voice, "'You, Willow, shall do so-and-so at this time, and such-and-such will happen,' so I never really gave it much thought," she finished in her own voice. She cocked her head as a thought occurred to her.

"Than again," she went on, "that house you told me about down on the edge of the lake? Waking up together in the sunlight, bathing in the lake, picnics in the gardens, making love by the fire..." She grinned at Tara. "That's a future I can believe in." Tara returned her smile, and gently touched their lips together.

"Me too," she whispered. After a moment simply enjoying each other's presence, Tara gave Willow's waist a squeeze and looked around.

"Are we done here?"

Willow looked around here and there, looking for anything significant. She had half-turned towards the main door when she noticed something, and peered at the floor.

"What?"

"There's a piece missing," Willow said, crouching down. The center of the hall, which all the benches faced, featured a mosaic of angels circling the Crystal Arch, and in amongst the miniscule colored tiles were two dozen golden medallions, each set solidly in the floor. Willow ran her finger along the edge of a vacant indentation, where a single one of the medallions was missing.

"The demons did get in here?" Tara asked.

"I don't know," Willow said slowly, "it's... I mean, obviously someone's taken the gold, you can see here where the tiles on the edge are chipped. Probably used a knife to pry it loose, but... well, why stop at one?" She gestured around. "There's plenty more, and none of them have been touched." She glanced upward. "And that cross up there looks gold-plated, and all you'd have to do to get it would be drag one of these benches over and stand on top of it." She stood up and inspected the hanging ornament above them. "It's not even melded with the chain it's on, it's just hanging on a hook."

"Not a demon then," Tara mused, "but someone has been in here."

"Yeah," Willow said with a frown. She and Tara went through the hall's front door, returning to the main courtyard. Tara glanced around, making a note of the buildings they had already searched.

"Just storerooms and sheds," she said vaguely, "and those rooms at the end. They look newer than the rest of the buildings." Willow followed her gaze to the small one-story buildings up against the western wall.

"I've seen that kind of thing before," she said, "some of these monasteries and temples get a lot of scholars passing through, studying the old texts and so on. The more tolerant Orders put them up in little apartments of their own, rather than make them live with the monks or priests or whoever maintains the place. Monks are usually up an hour before dawn to pray and stuff like that, and scholars value their sleep."

"A scholar," Tara said thoughtfully, "maybe a mage... with magic the brothers didn't know about and couldn't fight?"

"Someone who might want something other than just to loot the place," Willow added. Tara returned her spear to its place on her back, and readied her bow, while Willow aimed her staff at the silent buildings. Together they walked closer, keeping close to each other. They reached the doorway leading in to the apartments without any sign of life from within.

"We're not being paranoid, are we?" Willow asked quietly.

"Normally," Tara replied, "or after three days of being chased by demons and finding deserted villages?"

"Good point," Willow conceded.

"I don't sense anything inside," Tara said, "but we shouldn't take any chances." Willow nodded.

"Stay beside me," she said, laying her free hand on Tara's shoulder. A fine blue mist enveloped both of them. "So long as we're in physical contact I can keep us both shielded," Willow went on, "it'll stop and arrow or a sword. If there's magic I'll increase the chill, it might be a bit disorienting but it should hold."

"Okay," Tara said, "ready?"

"Ready," Willow confirmed.

There were four separate apartments inside, and the first three were empty, containing nothing more than a bare wooden bed, a trunk of sheets, and a table and chair positioned underneath trapdoors in the ceiling, to let the light in. Willow and Tara edged along the corridor to the final door.

"Either this is it," Willow murmured, "or we're making fools of ourselves."

"If we are," Tara suggested, "at least there's no-one here to see us."

"True," Willow said. Tara held up her bow hand, with three fingers raised. She counted down, and together she and Willow rounded the edge of the door, her arrow and Willow's staff pointed into the room beyond.

It was empty, but had obviously bee occupied. Books lay scattered across the bed and floor, most of them open, some with pages torn out and spread out in seemingly random patterns across the floorboards. A pile of tangled blankets in the corner indicated where the previous occupant might have slept. The ceiling trapdoor was open, with a ladder leaning against it, and the sunlight shone down on the table. More books were piled high on it, as well as papers and charts, and a single volume lay open next to a fallen pen and inkwell, which had stained the papers beneath and dripped onto the floor. There was also a black rod, like a scepter, resting against the chair, and Willow froze when she saw it.

"What?" asked Tara in a whisper, her eyes darting around the room, taking everything in.

"That rod," Willow said in a hoarse voice, "don't touch it. Don't even go near it." She stepped around Tara and held her staff in both hands, as if she meant to strike someone with it.

"Willow?" Tara asked.

"Stay back," Willow warned, "I have to destroy it."

"Willow," Tara said again, concern in her voice. Willow glanced back at her.

"It's all right," she said, "I'm okay, but I have to do this." Tara studied Willow's features, looking for an explanation for her sudden odd behavior. She saw none, but was reassured by what she did see – her Willow. She nodded, and Willow turned back to the table, readying her staff.

She whispered beneath her breath, a strange language that Tara only caught a few syllables of, and didn't understand at all. The color and grain of her staff faded, the wood seemingly turning to something like metal, with hints of a dark, rough blackness beneath it. Willow braced herself, and without warning swung her staff. It met the rod half-way along its length, and with a great crack shattered it. Willow jumped back as the end of her swing caught the chair and sent it crashing into the wall.

"Willow?" Tara asked urgently.

"I'm okay," Willow said automatically. She turned back to Tara, and took two steps to stand against her, her free arm going around her waist and her head resting on her shoulder. "I'm okay."

"We should check the roof," Tara suggested gently. Willow nodded against her shoulder, then steeled herself and stood ready again, staff in hand. She let Tara climb the ladder first, so she could keep a hand on her ankle as she climbed up after her, forming a new chill armor around them both. Tara noticed it was a great deal stronger than the one she had cast before, but she could tell just by the tension she saw in Willow's body how anxious the sight of the scepter had made her. She was curious, but knew Willow would tell her when they had time.

The trapdoor led onto the roof, which was just a step down from the top of the western wall, lower than the other three walls of the monastery, as the ground dropped sharply away beneath it, making it impossible to approach from outside. Tara looked around, straining her senses, but she found no trace of a presence.

"No," Willow said, "he has to be here somewhere."

"Who?" Tara asked, her eyes scanning the monastery buildings.

"The man who used that rod," Willow insisted, "anyone who would use something like that would never give it up, he couldn't! They bond with the wielder, the only way to be free of it would be..." she trailed off, and slowly walked to the parapet, leaning cautiously over.

"There he is," she said quietly. Tara looked also, and saw a mangled, broken figure on the rocks far below.

Chapter 38

Willow felt Tara's arm go around her shoulders, and she instinctively leant into the embrace, relief and dismay draining all the strength from her body.

"Are you sure he was the one?" Tara asked gently. Willow nodded.

"I can see it," she said, "the power from the rod, it's... it's like a stain. He was the one who used it."

"We shouldn't let our guard down," Tara warned, "but I don't think there's anyone else in the monastery." She paused, and Willow sensed her patience silencing the questions she wanted to ask. She sat down wearily, with Tara kneeling at her side, one arm around her shoulders, the other on her waist.

"It was a rod of command," she explained, "they're... very powerful demons create them for their servants. Using it on someone is... it strips the soul away from a person's life. You're alive, but not really alive, not a, a spiritual life anymore. The wielder can command anything, anything at all, and you can't disobey."

"It could have been used on the whole village?" Tara asked quietly. "To make them leave the gates open, let the Carvers in?" Willow nodded again.

"There wouldn't have been any way they could have fought it," she said bleakly. "A mage might have a chance, but... farmers and shopkeepers, no. The brothers here, too."

"Do you think Shadai created it?"

"I can't be sure," Willow said warily, "no-one knows enough about the rods to identify their creator, just from looking at them. But..." she sighed. "I wouldn't put my money on another demon. Not many are strong enough to make them, the rod is a massive concentration of demonic energy. Interfering with a living soul is almost impossible, even for a Lord of hell. One of the books I read once said it takes a demon a thousand years and a day to create a rod of command."

"But it's gone now?" Tara asked. "The one he used," she added, inclining her head towards the wall.

"Destroyed," Willow said firmly, "the Zann Esu developed spells for each of the three elements to break the magic in demonic weapons. Lightning works best, but cold is good enough. Ember said it's tricky to do with fire." She shrugged. "My staff probably helped, too," she admitted with a weak smile.

"Are you okay?" Tara asked, holding her closer.

"Yeah," Willow said, laying her hand over Tara's forearm reassuringly, "yeah, it was just a bit of a shock, that's all. I mean, we're – sorceresses – we're trained to recognize a rod if we see it, do the spell to break it, but... well, it's been over five hundred years since anyone's even seen one. I guess I never really expected to see one. I could've done without it, actually," she added with a wry laugh.

"Do you want something to eat?" Tara asked. "There were some dried goods in the store rooms that won't have spoiled." Willow paused and considered.

"You know," she said with a shrug, "that doesn't sound too bad. You'd think all this would kind of put a girl off her appetite, wouldn't you?"

"Just because the whole world's out to get us doesn't mean we can't snack," Tara replied with a straight face, managing to get a genuine laugh out of Willow.

"Let's go," she said, stroking Tara's arm, "we'll grab whatever looks good, then we should get back here and see what our late friend has been writing."

"You don't want to wait a while?" Tara asked. "I don't think there's any immediate hurry."

"Nah, I'll be fine," Willow said, as both stood. "Besides, you know me. I'd sooner get stuck into a problem than sit around worrying about it."

"Even when it's an icky demon-infestation problem?" Tara asked with a lop-sided grin.

"I'm incorrigible," Willow replied, taking her hand.

"Well I knew that," Tara said, raising an eyebrow.

***

"Okay," Willow said, squaring her shoulders as she and Tara entered the corridor outside the apartments again, "let's see what we can see."

"Should we do this the same way as we did with Hydris' room?" Tara asked.

"Pretty much," Willow nodded, pausing momentarily at the doorway before stepping through, "don't touch anything weird-looking, or anything you don't recognize, don't read anything you can't understand..." She shot Tara an amused look. "We're kind of getting experienced at this, aren't we?"

"Evil mage clean-up crew," Tara smiled, "it's a dirty job..." She glanced around the room, her gaze drawn to the fragments of the rod left scattered across the far side of it. "Is that safe?"

"Oh, yeah," Willow said, clearing a few books off the bed to create enough space to sit down. "They're made out of common materials, as a vessel for the demonic magic. Once the magic's gone they revert back to whatever they were made of." She leaned over and picked up a fragment that had landed by the bed. "Huh. Wood," she noted, tossing it over her shoulder.

Tara picked up the chair Willow's staff had knocked over and righted it, sitting in front of the cluttered table. She carefully tilted the inkwell back onto its base without spilling any more ink, and tested the damp papers it had stained.

"I don't think this is more than a few hours old," she said. Willow looked up, surprised.

"He was still alive while we were down in the catacombs?" she wondered.

"Do you think he knew we were coming?" Tara asked with a frown.

"Maybe," Willow admitted with a shrug, "it's hard to tell. Depending on how subservient a mage becomes to a demon, he can develop all sorts of powers. He can't have been that dominated, if he was able to kill himself. Or maybe he really was insane. Demonic power has been known to cause madness sometimes, true madness, I mean, not just the demons-are-good sort of madness. Some scholars think that an insane mind is impossible for demons to properly control. It's all just theory, there's no mortal magic that works like demonic magic, and it doesn't do much good asking a demon how they do it, they're not known for giving honest answers. Hello..." she finished, fishing among the books scattered on the bed.

"What?"

"Look at this," she said, holding up a medallion, "it's the missing one from the floor of that hall." She peered at it, reading the tiny markings on it.

"One more mystery solved," Tara noted.

"Yeah," Willow said, "but another one to take its place. Why take this, and not one of the others? It's not magical." She turned it over, reading the inscription. "In fact, it's not even relevant."

"What does it say?" Tara asked, turning around in the chair to face Willow.

"'Noble warriors of light, swords raised, in flight,'" she read, "it's part of an old poem about the angels going out to meet the demon armies during the Great Conflict. I didn't read the others, but I wouldn't be surprised if each of the medallions in the floor had a line of the poem. I've seen some designs along those lines in churches and temples. But why would he have taken this particular medallion? Why not the central one, that was bigger, and I got the impression it may have had a tiny bit of holy magic in it. This is just an expensive trinket." She frowned. "I mean, if it had been inscribed with something describing the demons, then maybe it would have some significance... though I'm not sure what."

"Maybe he just needed any one of the medallions?" Tara suggested. "To do a spell on it? Is gold useful in spells?"

"A bit, if you use fire magic," Willow replied, "not as much as bronze, in most cases. If that's right, whatever he was going to do he hadn't done it yet. I can't see even a trace of magic in this... unless it's very, very subtle, and you wouldn't think someone carrying around a rod of control would be that interested in subtlety." She shrugged, and flipped the medallion in the air, catching it and dropping it into a pouch on her belt. "When we get to Duncraig I'll buy some potions and do a full set of detection spells on it, just in case. Probably a waste of time, but you never know." Tara nodded absently and turned back to the table.

"This looks like a diary," she said, reading the spidery writing covering half the page, ending in an illegible scrawl. "It's dated yesterday." Willow put aside the book she had picked up and went to look over Tara's shoulder.

"'My Mistress is coming,'" Tara read, "'tomorrow at noon she comes and she will kill me.'"

"That's today," Willow said with a worried frown.

"It's well past noon," Tara said, "his Mistress? Do you think...?"

"Shadai," Willow said flatly.

"It is possible she was going to force him to summon her?" Tara wondered. "He knew what was going to happen, and knew she'd kill him after the summoning?"

"It could be," Willow said, "if he was in contact with her, he might have glimpsed bits and pieces of her thoughts."

"When she was summoned before, she killed the mage who did it," Tara reminded Willow, who nodded.

"Yeah," she agreed, "yeah, a demon of her power would practically drain any mage who summoned her. He'd be useless to her for days until he recovered... she'd probably consider him a liability more than a servant. Plus there's the whole thing with demons just enjoying killing for its own sake." Tara nodded grimly, and returned her attention to the page.

"'I know what I must do,'" she read, "'just this and I will be free of her at last. I will be free of everything. I have given her pain today, and she feeds on it. She gorges and ignores my thoughts for now. I have this one chance. May the gods forgive my soul and let me find oblivion.' Well, that seems to explain what happened."

"We were lucky," Willow said, leaning against the chair with a hand on Tara's shoulder, "gods, the whole world was lucky..."

"Do you think he could have summoned her, if he hadn't died?" Tara asked. "The way you've talked about it, he'd have had to be an extraordinary mage to do it, wouldn't he?"

"He would," Willow said, the tiredness disappearing from her voice as she latched onto Tara's train of thought and followed it, "he might have been. It's difficult to tell once a person's dead. Magic is in the soul as well as the body. Then again, I'm naturally predisposed to cold magic. There's a theory that some people are predisposed the same way towards demonic magic. In whatever discipline he studied openly, he might have been nothing special, but doing a summoning spell... I didn't get the impression Hydris was that powerful, for that matter, but he tried to summon Shadai, well enough that I could hear her voice for a second. I just don't know." Tara stroked the back of her hand.

"Maybe we owe that man out there our lives," Willow said softly. "He wielded the rod of command, let all those people die... and then he killed himself, and saved us."

"The way he writes, it doesn't sound like he had altruistic motives in mind," Tara commented, "it's more like serving her was a living hell."

"Well, yeah, there is that," Willow nodded, taking a deep breath and steadying herself. "Demons are generally only cooperative as long as they need to be to overpower their summoner. After that... feeding off his pain sounds about right. Jumping off the wall probably would seem like the best option." She and Tara shared a bleak look, then Tara returned her attention to the diary, flipping back through the pages. She gave up after a moment and opened the book to its first page.

"Beginning of the year," she said, as Willow gave her shoulder a squeeze and went back to searching through the other books and papers. "According to this he was in Namon back then."

"North of here, isn't it?" Willow asked.

"Along the river Marien from Duncraig," Tara replied, "that's where the ambassadors were discussing making another detour. Kert's map made it look like a fairly prominent town, the same size as Sorenstad. He lived there..." she read on silently. "He was part of something called the Order of Lightshapers?"

"Oh, yeah," Willow said, her brow furrowing in concentration, "I know that one, we learned all the mage clans and their orders... gods, that was ages ago, let me think... they're part of the Ennead clan, I think. They mostly stay in Kurast... no, I remember, the Lightshapers, they're wanderers, they travel to cities and towns that the clan hasn't had contact with before, stay there until they've learned all they can, then up and move somewhere else."

"What are the Ennead like?" Tara asked, skimming through the text at the same time.

"Pretty decent as mage clans go," Willow said, "not that powerful in military terms, but big on knowledge. They've spent most of their history... well, basically learning and staying out of everyone's way. There's nine orders in the clan, one for each of the nine planets in the sky. The Lightshapers... if I'm remembering this right, it's been ages since I studied clan history, but it fits with them being out here, not back in Kurast... the Lightshapers are supposedly linked to the planet Lorelei, which is the wanderer."

"Which is that?" Tara asked, looking up.

"Her orbit is hugely erratic," Willow explained, "depending on the time, she could be anywhere between the sunward side of Domina and Amica – that's the pair sunwards of us – to the starward side of the Triad, three planets out from Sanctuary."

"Oh, we call that one Zerae," Tara offered.

"After your goddess?"

"Yes. All of the 'old worlds', the ones our priests could see centuries ago, without powerful telescopes, are attached to one of our gods. Zerae travels all over the skies so she can check up on all her devotees, but she always returns to be near her husband Hefaetrus. That's the closest world to the sun."

"We didn't have telescopes handy where I grew up," Willow said, "when I went to the Order I learned all the planets according to the Horadrim cycles. Anyway, Lorelei – Zerae – is the wanderer, and the Lightshapers are modeled after her nature, so they travel around a lot. Does it say anything about them?" Tara returned to her study of the diary.

"He – I don't see anywhere where it says his name – he seemed to be ostracized from the others of his order. Or perhaps he just thought he was... 'they deny me my rightful place among the shaper-magi'... 'they should have consulted me before making such a decision,' something about exchanging knowledge with a Vizjerei mage." She read bits and pieces over the course of a few pages. "He seems to have thought all his fellow mages were only interested in ancient history... ah, here: 'dusty old fools with their dusty old books.'"

"And he was more ambitious?" Willow guessed. "I wonder how he ended up in the Ennead, it doesn't sound like he'd have been their type. I'm not sure how they choose their apprentices, the Zann Esu really haven't dealt with them that much."

"Here's something," Tara noted, "have you ever heard of a book called the Black Tome?"

"Black Tome?" Willow said to herself. "There's been a couple of books called that... the Order's actually got one in the vault libraries supposedly written by a servant of Azmodan, one of the Lesser Evils. What does he write about it?"

"Um, 'the paths have been revealed to me, in the pages of this tome my destiny is charted'... he kind of goes on like that for a bit. It sounds like he found it, and thought it would lead him to something important."

"Yeah, demons and insanity," Willow muttered darkly, "if it was important to him, maybe it's around here somewhere... I don't suppose there's a description?" She got up off the bed and started picking up the books scattered across the floor, checking their spines.

"I don't see anything like that," Tara said, "just references to the secrets in it... spells, sources of power..."

"This might be it," Willow said, "it's black, at least." She held up a book bound in cracked black leather.

"Might it be dangerous?" Tara wondered.

"I don't think so," Willow said, sitting back down with it, "there's very few books powerful enough to be dangerous without help. You have to read their spells aloud, or pour blood on the pages, stuff like that. I can't feel anything that powerful in here." She dusted off the black cover and studied it.

"No title," she observed, "let's see..." She opened it and leafed through a few pages. "Oh, I think I've heard of this. There was a Black Tome found briefly during the Reckoning, and then lost again somewhere in Khanduras. If this is it, it's a record of the places of power for all the significant demonic mages in the last few hundred years. I guess that makes sense, if you were insane and wanted to get involved in demonology, that'd be a pretty useful find."

"What should we do with it?" Tara asked. Willow looked up and thought for a moment.

"I think we should take it with us," she said, "one, it could be useful to figure out what was going on here, and two, if we get this to the Zann Esu it'll help track down a lot of potentially dangerous artifacts and so on." She leafed through the pages. "Oh, gods, that's ugly. Why would anyone worship that?" She looked up again. "It doesn't say what, specifically, he was interested in, does it?" Tara turned back and searched through the next few pages.

"He went on a journey," she said, "on a boat... left his order, went downriver and then on a merchant ship bound form Lut Gholein... but he got off before it reached there. Somewhere in the Tamoe mountains..."

"The Kingsport-Lut Gholein shipping lines run off the coast of the southern Tamoe ranges," Willow offered.

"'The living darkness guides my footsteps,'" Tara read, "'I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that tomorrow I shall cross the threshold of the broken circle, and the power of the storm casters will be mine.' What does that mean?"

"He was going to summon a storm caster," Willow said, snapping her fingers as the pieces fell into place, "they're a kind of creature created by one of the factions during the Mage Wars, and then they all got cast into hell after they turned on their creators."

"Why would anyone want one?"

"For a mage jealous of his fellow mages, and not above using demonic forces to get what he wanted, it'd be tempting," Willow explained, checking books and piling them beside the bed as she searched for something. "Storm casters were created to disable enemy mages, they can latch onto any mage and drain his power. The mages who created them made them a bit too smart though, and they learned to feed off the magic that was supposed to be keeping them under control. If this guy thought he could summon one back from hell and control it, maybe he was going to use it to seize control of his order."

"Using the rod of command to control it?" Tara wondered.

"No," Willow said, "no, it wouldn't work on a demon, even an artificial one like a storm caster. Besides, if he had a rod, he wouldn't have needed anything else to help him." She sat back on her heels and looked around. "I don't see any texts on storm casters, not even anything that might be vaguely relevant to them. What does he say next?"

"Lots of stuff about the broken circle," Tara replied.

"A place where it's easier to summon," Willow interjected, "there's a few hidden here and there."

"There's records of spells and rituals he did, you might want to look over them later... some of this definitely falls into the 'don't read out loud' category," she added, with a wry grin over her shoulder at Willow.

"You know, I don't think he got his storm caster," Willow frowned, "it doesn't fit. I don't think there's any way one of them could create a rod of command, no matter how much power it soaked up, rods need pure demonic energy..."

"'My life is over,'" Tara read out, "'I cannot say how I erred, but my trap has snared a prey far greater than I could control. How could this happen? It is impossible, yet I reached her, and now she holds me in her palm, and drives me onward.'" Willow stood and came up behind Tara again, looking over her shoulder.

"It's her," she whispered, "he made contact with Shadai."

"By accident?" Tara asked.

"Like he said, it should be impossible," Willow replied, "but if it happened... I'm starting to see how this all comes together. He went to summon a minor demon, and somehow made contact with Shadai instead. She made him serve her, created the rod for him so he'd be able to do her will... and made him come here. The Tamoe ranges are a long way away..." she stared off into space. "He was practically heading right for me. And he must've commanded the goat-men and the other demons here-"

"I thought you said a rod wouldn't work on demons?" Tara asked.

"He wouldn't need it," Willow replied, "they'd have seen him as being under her command, and obeyed him. Hybrids are almost incapable of defying true demons, even if they're working through a mortal servant."

"So he came here," Tara summarized, "with the goat-men following him? Or here already?"

"Maybe a few were already around," Willow guessed, "and he could've gathered more as he traveled."

"He killed everyone in the monastery and the villages," Tara went on, "and then... stayed here researching something, while the goat-men went out to look for us?"

"Well, me," Willow corrected.

"Us," Tara insisted, "nothing is getting to you without facing me." She looked up and Willow and gave her hand a protective squeeze. Willow opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't.

"So," Tara resumed, "the plan was to bring us here... capture us, or maybe just drive us here, for the mage to command with his rod. And then, summon Shadai?"

She might've expected me to attack her the same way I did before," Willow guessed, holding Tara's hand tight, "and then she'd defeat me, gain my power... and there'd be a major demon loose with elemental magic."

"Only her plan failed," Tara pointed out. "Her servant's dead, the rod's been destroyed, there's no-one left to summon her."

"We were lucky," Willow said again.

"We'd have found a way," Tara said, "even if things had gone differently. I promise you Willow, I would not have let that happen to you. We'd have found a way to escape." Willow sighed, and at Tara's urging sat gently on her lap.

"Willow," she said softly, "there's a single rule at the core of all Amazon belief. I love you completely, and I know you love me just as much. That means that together we can defy any force set against us. All we need to do is believe, completely believe, in our love. I do, Willow. Amazon lore says that love like ours can defy armies, demons, even gods. I truly believe that."

"I..." Willow started, her voice trembling, "I do too... gods know everything I've ever learned goes against it, a-and says this is just, just wishful thinking, in the face of the kind of power a demon like Shadai can wield... but I believe you." She looked at Tara, her eyes full of tears. "Why is that?" she asked, with a faith smile.

"You know why," Tara whispered, catching the tears with her lips as they rolled silently down Willow's cheeks.

"I love you," Willow said.

"That's why," Tara replied. She tightened her hug, then let Willow go and stood up after her.

"Do we know what we needed to know from here?" she asked. Willow looked around.

"I think so," she said, "most of these books are copies of old manuscripts, the Zann Esu has copies as well. Maybe even the court mage in Duncraig, he might have quite a library. I should make a note of which books are here, which pages have been removed and marked... otherwise I think we're done."

"Should we take this?" Tara asked, closing the diary. Willow frowned at it, then sighed.

"We probably should," she said, "the Ennead will want it when they find out what happened, assuming they don't know already. And ickiness aside, I'd actually like to go through it in detail myself, once we're somewhere safe. Might find something significant, you never know."

"Okay," Tara nodded, "we'll take it."

"The Black Tome as well," Willow added, "the Order could learn a lot from studying it. Help me check through the others quickly, just to make sure there's nothing apart from what the mage wrote himself. You'd recognize his handwriting?"

"Yep," Tara said. She started going through the books, reading the titles to Willow who noted them in their journal, then stacking them in a corner.

"What do you think we should do next?" Willow asked, while she flipped through the pages of an old copy of a Vizjerei text on demons, matching the missing pages to those torn out and left on the floor.

"When I read that passage you found in Ember's journal," Tara said, handing Willow any pages that looked to be the right size to have come from the damaged book, "she mentioned a map room in the monastery showing the whole area. It might be useful if we could find that. We still have two days' travel to the river, and I'd like to see where we're going in detail."

"Two-twenty, two-twenty-one..." Willow counted under her breath, noting the page number, "yeah, okay," she continued out loud, "she said it was... ground floor east? That's here, isn't it? These rooms?"

"There's no decoration here," Tara said thoughtfully, "but these are recent... what if when Ember was here, these apartments hadn't been built yet? What would be the east-most building then?"

"Um, the armory," Willow suggested, "or maybe the guardhouse in the northeast tower, that had an adjoining room that was up against the eastern wall, that'd be pretty close."

"Alright, we'll check both of those. It's probably attached to the guardhouse though, I don't think there were any decent-sized rooms we didn't check around the armory, and I can't imagine anyone painting a map of the whole region on the wall in a closet." Willow grinned.

"So, we find the map, and see what the land looks like between here and the river," Tara went on. "If we can find the entrance to the tunnel leading to the eastern village we'll use that, that'll cut out a mile of traveling over exposed terrain, and we won't have to go around the edge of the cliff we're on. From what I saw there's forests and low valleys beyond the village, so we won't have to worry about being spotted from miles away."

"We'll have to make sure we find the right tunnel," Willow warned, making a final note in the journal and putting the other book aside, "the one from the western village came up facing south, and the passage in the catacombs twisted and turned around a fair bit. I don't think we should just guess which way to go."

"How many entrances to the catacombs did we find?" Tara asked.

"I counted four," Willow said, "including the one we used. There's probably more around though, plus trapdoors and stuff."

"The passage we followed was marked, wasn't it?" Tara went on. "You said the paving stones had been set like a path."

"Uh-huh," Willow nodded, "so if we know which entrance to use, and the passage is marked the same way, we won't get lost in the catacombs."

"I don't suppose there'd be any plans of the monastery back in the library?" Tara asked. Willow sighed.

"Maybe," she said warily, "but I wouldn't count on it. Maybe the recent additions might have plans, but the other parts would be hundreds of years old, and they don't typically keep building records from that far back. At least, not in the churches I've seen."

"Maybe the map room might show something," Tara mused, "anyway, we'll check the library again if we have to."

"Should we stay here tonight, or set off?" Willow asked.

"If we have to travel above ground, we should do it in the day," Tara said, "maybe we wouldn't be spotted at night..."

"But maybe we would," Willow finished, nodding, "Carvers prefer moving around at night if they have a choice."

"And during the day we'd have a better chance of defending ourselves. But if we find the tunnel to the east, I think we should start into it, and try to find a room like the one we spent last night in. We can sleep half-way, and come up above ground during the daylight tomorrow."

"It's a plan," Willow nodded, grinning at Tara. "Add one more to the billions of reasons I'm glad you're here with me."

"Wouldn't want to be anywhere but with you," Tara smiled back. "And hey, this way when I finally get back to the islands, I can tell Solari I've been on a genuine adventure."

"Don't forget you'll have me with you," Willow said, "you can show her me and go 'and look what I found.'"

"I haven't forgotten," Tara said, picking up the last pile of books and bringing it over to Willow. "You're unforgettable. Remember?" Willow did her best to conceal a giggle, and busied herself with the books.

Chapter 39

A further search of the armory proved fruitless in terms of finding the map room, though Tara did find an extra bottle of bramble oil in a cupboard next to a rack of bows and crossbows. Willow checked a couple of the lighter crossbows, but found them too heavy and difficult to carry across country.

"Oh well," she shrugged, slotting a crossbow back into its rack, "it's not like I'm unarmed anyway." With a grin, she unslung her bow from her back and sighted along it at an imaginary enemy, assuming a dramatic battle-ready stance.

"Hmm," Tara nodded approvingly, "I'm definitely seeing the appeal of warrior women in leather... no wonder Amazons get all those stories told about us. Those ice bolts you do," she went on seriously, "do you need to, oh, recharge, or something, after a while?"

"I would eventually," Willow replied, "mainly it's concentration, but elemental magic requires a bit of input from the caster, just to get the spell started. I was actually thinking in case we run into something that's resistant to magic, an imp or something like that... of course, that'd be more your area of expertise than mine... still, I'm glad we've got two bows. Best to be prepared for anything."

"True," Tara nodded, "I think between the two of our bows, my spear, and your staff, we're as ready as we'll be. Although, we might as well take a few extra bowstrings, they won't weigh anything." She tucked the bramble oil into her back and rummaged around in the cupboard again.

"What're those imp things like?" she asked as she was looking. "I thought 'imp' was just, you know, generic. Isn't an imp just a little demon?"

"Usually," Willow said, "in folklore and stuff, yeah, imps are all sorts of things. But there's a specific type of demon called an imp as well. They're tricksters, they pretend to be subservient but they're a lot smarter and craftier than they let on. Usually they wait for some gullible summoner to bind them as menial servants, and then they bide their time and slowly work at breaking the binding without their master noticing it's getting weaker. If they succeed, they're free, and... it gets icky."

"I know I'm going to regret this," Tara said, pulling a couple of spare bowstrings from the back of a shelf, "but, icky how? Otherwise my curiosity is just going to nag at me for days."

"I know the feeling," Willow smiled. "Um, well, typically, an imp that gets free of its binding will kill its former master and... um, cut him up and use the bits to make more imps."

"I was right," Tara grinned, "I didn't want to know." She paused as a thought struck her. "How big are they?"

"Oh, only a few inches tall," Willow said, "and they're very rare, most of the ones that had got loose over the years were called into the Prime Evils' armies during the Reckoning, and got wiped out. I seriously doubt we'll see any, they prefer to skulk around the more lawless cities up north anyway, they're not really wilderness creatures. Why?"

"Do they use all of the bits of the mage?"

"I don't know, I guess they'd make as many imps as they could... I wonder if there is a sort of pecking order? Like, when imps get together, they're all: 'Which bit are you made of?' 'Bicep.' 'You lucky devil, I'm just an elbow'," she said, in a pair of comical voices.

"Heh," Tara chuckled, "just imagine what it'd be like to be the imp made out of the summoner's... um, private parts."

"Oh my gods," Willow gasped, doubling over with laughter, "oh... I hadn't thought of that... gee, it's a wonder men ever risk summoning imps. I mean, being killed and damned is one thing, but to have your genitals wandering around on their own as well... gods, that'd have to be pretty embarrassing for a damned soul."

"Probably all the other damned souls tease them about it," Tara pointed out, doing her best to keep a straight face. Willow shot her a grin, then composed herself.

"Guardhouse, then?" she suggested. "I don't think there's anything bigger than a set of drawers we haven't checked in this building."

"Right," Tara agreed, turning towards the door to the forge, which in turn led out into the courtyard.

"I love how you make me laugh," Willow said as the walked towards the northeast tower, "it's so... I mean, all the horrible stuff we're stuck in the middle of, it sort of gets under my skin, you know? And then you just brighten me right up, and suddenly I feel like me again."

"That's the idea," Tara said warmly. "Solari always liked making jokes when everyone was feeling stressed or exhausted. We'd be in the middle of a training routine, really concentrating, and she'd be directing us, all the trainees, and suddenly she'd say something completely ridiculous, but in a perfectly serious voice. She always said she did it just to see if anyone would get fooled. Heh," she chuckled, remembering, "one time, she told us that if we were up against an enemy behind barricades, we should fit springs to the backs of our arrows, and fire them backwards, so they'd bounce off the trees behind the enemy and get them from behind." Willow shook her head, laughing softly.

"Well, yeah," Tara admitted, "but it did take me a moment to realize she was joking. She just seemed so normal, I was going 'yeah, I can see how that would work, if you compensate in your aim for not having the feathers on the tail of the arrow', and then I stopped and it hit me that it was totally ludicrous. Of course," she added, "making you laugh is its own reward. You just... light up."

They reached the tower, and started checking the doors leading off the first room within it.

"Eponin took herself more seriously," Tara went on, "but she basically taught me the same thing. You can't truly despair, and laugh at the same time, so no matter how desperate the situation gets, if you can joke, you feel better. It may not be rational, and it may not help you, but it works."

"It might help, though," Willow pointed out, "I don't think I'll ever be completely afraid of an imp again. Fear's very disruptive to the concentration you need to do magic, so if you can look a bunch of demons square in the eye, and have this little bit of humor in the back of your mind, to keep you from getting completely afraid of them..." She raised an eyebrow at Tara.

"Good point," Tara conceded, "I never really thought of it. Where does this go?" Willow looked where she was pointing, to a door set in a tiny depression in the floor, with a few steps leading down to it.

"Looks like a cellar, or something," she said, testing the door, standing back as it swung open. Beyond was a low-ceilinged tunnel.

"Another entrance to the catacombs?" she wondered.

"I don't see any stairs," Tara frowned, peering into the gloom, "I think we should check it out. So long as there aren't any junctions we can't get lost, so we can just come back if it doesn't go anywhere useful." She glanced around the room and picked a torch off a rack on the wall.

"Hang on, I'll get the matches," Willow said, reaching for Tara's pack.

"Thanks," Tara said, and stood still while Willow opened the pocket and fished out the matches. She struck one and lit the oilcloth wrapped around the end of the torch, while Willow fixed the cat's-eye amulet around her neck. Tara glanced at her, and grinned at the sight of her eyes. Willow mimed a 'meow', and Tara laughed quietly and turned her attention back to her torch.

"Good torch," she mused, watching the torch burn, brightly but without excess flame, and giving off hardly any smoke.

"Probably treated with magic," Willow observed, "it's a simple bit of fire magic, sort of a 'clean burn' spell." She peered at the base of the torch in Tara's hand. "No manufacturer's mark, but the whole batch probably came from Kurast originally. They make them in bulk and export everywhere, it's sort of standard adventurer's equipment." She waved her hand quickly above the flame.

"Hot," she said. "Some of the fancy ones redirect all the heat into light, they shine like the sun but you can't burn yourself on them. This is just a simple one."

"There are mages who do this?" Tara asked. "Just, sit around all day enchanting torches?"

"Yeah, pretty much. You don't have to be a powerful mage to do a spell like this. That's like the other end of the scale to court mages and all that. Mind you, I'm kind of glad I can look forward to a more interesting career than doing the same enchantment over and over again. But, it's a living," she shrugged. "Pity I'm a cold sorceress, otherwise," she held up a hand, "instant torch, whenever you need it."

"I'm glad you've got the magic you do," Tara said warmly, as she ducked into the tunnel, torch in one hand, spear in the other. "We can always carry around some matches, but being able to cast that chill armor is... well, I can't imagine anything more useful while we're out here on our own."

"Yeah, there is that," Willow conceded. "Lightning sorceresses can create an energy shield, but it's trickier and more exhausting. Like I think I said once, cold is all about defense."

"Yep," Tara nodded.

"Then again," Willow mused, "lightning sorceresses can teleport..."

"Really?" Tara asked, surprised. "Like, just vanish and appear somewhere else?"

"Uh-huh. It's difficult to master, and it only works over short distances, but yeah. Well, a really good sorceress could extend the range, but the energy to do it increases exponentially. The Oracles on the Council are supposed to be able to cover about a quarter of a mile in one go, but that's just rumor, seeing as they don't travel or go into battle. A girl my age would usually only manage fifteen or twenty meters in a single casting, so it's not like I could just zap us to Duncraig anyway."

"We'll manage," Tara said fondly, "besides, if we run out of matches and need a fire, I can always make some."

"Can you do that without using your bow?" Willow asked. "I thought it was all, you know, ritualized."

"It is," Tara admitted, "but it works no matter how hard you pull the bowstring, and it doesn't have to be a proper arrow. So if need be, I can just get a stick and fire it a couple of meters, and it'll catch fire. Or we could get some kindling together, and I could spear it, the sparks would probably be good enough to start a fire."

"Neat," Willow grinned, "you're one versatile Amazon."

"Not as versatile as your magic," Tara admitted, "but I've experimented now and then to find out different ways of using what I can do. Where are we? We must be under the monastery wall." Willow guided Tara's arm, with the torch, closer to the tunnel's wall so Tara could see what she was seeing.

"I think we're in the wall," she said, "this is the same kind of stone. The tunnel must run along inside it."

"Doesn't that weaken it?"

"It's a cliff on the other side, remember? Probably the other walls are solid, but there's no way to approach this wall from the outside so it doesn't matter. There's a door up ahead."

The tunnel ended in another short flight of stairs and a solid oak door, bound with iron brackets. Tara tried the handle, but the door refused to budge.

"It's locked," she said, "did you see a key anywhere back in the guardhouse?"

"No need," Willow said, "let me have a look..." She knelt down and peered at the lock, while Tara held the torch behind her to give her light, realizing belatedly, with a sheepish grin, that it was entirely unnecessary.

"I think it's just a simple latch," Willow said, "not like the complex locks you'd get on an outside door. Hang on a moment, I've always wanted to try this." She held out her finger, and a haze of condensation formed and solidified into a long, thin talon. Willow gingerly slid it into the keyhole and wiggled it around.

"I think we have a winner," she said, jerking the icy extension around, "and... yes!" There was a clunk from the other side of the door, and when Willow tried the handle it swung open.

"Where did you learn that?" Tara asked with a mystified grin. "Picking locks isn't part of sorceress training, is it?"

"Not technically," Willow admitted, dissolving the ice, "actually, I picked it up from Ember. She liked having midnight snacks now and then, and the cooks in the training complex tended to keep their cupboards locked when they went to bed... don't tell anyone."

"My lips are sealed," Tara replied with a smile, ducking through the doorway.

"Oh, my," Willow gasped, "I think we've found our map room."

The chamber was none too large, but fashioned with grandeur nonetheless. The walls, floor and ceiling were entirely stone, the ceiling arched like a miniature vault, painted with a convincing representation of a sky, with snow-white clouds building to a nexus at the center of the ceiling, the focus of the arches from the pillars supporting the walls, where the clouds parted to let the painted light of the heavens shine through. Willow started at the sight of a human figure near her, but sighed and relaxed when she realized it was only a statue of an angel, one of five standing around the room, clothed in flowing robes with their wings folded neatly against their backs.

"Are you okay?" Tara asked, hearing Willow's quiet chuckle at herself. She turned and came face-to-face with another statue.

"They look more real through a cat's eyes," Willow commented, taking the amulet off as Tara lit the thick candles set in steel brackets in the walls. "Wow," she breathed, "it's even better in color."

The four walls of the chamber, except for the door she and Tara had entered by and another doorway, bricked-up, opposite it, were entirely covered by paintings of the surrounding landscape. Willow recognized the view to the east, which she and Tara had seen from the top of the wall an hour or two ago, reproduced in loving detail on the room's eastern wall. The land stretched off to the mountains on one side, the river on the other, and to the north and south to horizons of rolling hills, with tiny notes, painted like scraps of parchment, giving the names of valleys, streams, villages and outlying farms.

The floor was a work of art too, a mosaic of tiny square tiles in varying shades of gray, showing the monastery itself. Willow knelt down and traced her finger along the line of the wall depicted beneath her feet, recognizing the barracks and storehouses just where she remembered them from above.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

"It is," Tara agreed. "It shows everything... look, even where the doors are, on either side the map is condensed, so it doesn't skip anything..."

"And the monastery," Willow noted, "oh, look here, this is from before they built the new rooms along the east wall. Look here, this must be where we are." She pointed to a chamber half sunk into the ground, with a stone stairwell leading into it. She glanced up at the walled-off doorway.

"They filled it in and built over the top," Tara said, "so, when Ember was here, this would have been a ground floor building, not underground... I wondered whether she'd gotten it mixed up or something."

"Yeah," Willow said, "hey, do you think it shows the tunnels?" Tara turned to the western wall and peered at the village, which seemed a little more sparsely populated with buildings inside its familiar wooden stockade than she remembered.

"There's something," she said, tracing a line with her fingers, "a sort of shadow on the ground, like the picture is suggesting a tunnel underneath. It heads down, towards the monastery, and fades away... I think that's it." She crossed the room and examined the village to the west.

"Kotram Oriens," she read.

"Imperial language," Willow said from the floor, "it just means 'Kotram east.'"

"There's a tunnel," Tara went on, "or, at least, the same kind of representation... it fades away like the other one."

"So we still don't know where to start," Willow said.

"Maybe..." Tara thought to herself, "can you find the entrance to the catacombs we came up through on the monastery?"

"Nice thinking," Willow grinned, "let's see... drat."

"What?"

"There's an angel standing on top of it," she said, standing up to face the statue. "The base covers the room the entrance was in."

"Same for the entrance we found over here," Tara noted, "maybe it represents the angels guarding the entrances?"

"Could be," Willow nodded. She paused, and looked carefully at the statue standing in front of her.

"What?" Tara asked.

"She's looking at the village," Willow said, "the tunnel comes up right underneath this statue, and she's looking directly at the village it comes from, that can't be a coincidence."

"This one's looking at the village to the south," Tara commented, following the gaze of the statue beside her. "Each one is guarding a tunnel entrance, and showing where they lead."

"Neat," Willow grinned, "yeah, I remember reading that people used to build things like this. Sort of, symbolism and functionality together."

"This one's looking east," Tara said, standing beside another statue, "right at the eastern village... it's standing on the guardhouse we came from," she added, surprised.

"There must be a trapdoor somewhere," Willow said, "we'll have to search it again."

"This is good, though," Tara said, "if the tunnel takes us to the village, that's a lot of open ground we don't have to cross. Look," she pointed to the bottom of the east wall, where the monastery on the floor was bordered by the cliff, "by the looks of this, we'd have had to go miles north or south to get down onto that plain."

"The catacombs must go deep, to get down to the bottom of the cliff," Willow said thoughtfully. "It could be quite a walk in the dark."

"We've done it before," Tara said confidently, "and if it's like the other tunnel, there'll be a path to follow so we won't get lost. Though just between you and me, I think we should keep track of the way back, just in case. I'm not completely underground- friendly just yet."

"I'll keep notes as we go," Willow promised. "Will we make the river in two days, do you think?" Tara studied the landscape to the east.

"It's a little difficult to say," she said, "there's no solid scale... the artist was very good though, I think the distances are pretty clear. Two days. Two and a half, at most. There's this valley here," she pointed, "if that's safe to pass, definitely two days. Going around it might take longer, on the rises to either side. It looks like there's an old road through the valley, so I think we should follow that unless we see a reason not to. I saw the edge of the forest there from the wall, so if we go through the valley we can sleep there, and we won't be out in the open."

"Good," Willow said.

"This stream runs out of the valley, and all the way down to the river," Tara went on, "we'll take the road at first, and as soon as we reach the stream we'll follow it." She shot Willow a grin. "Roads can get overgrown, but water always knows how to get to the sea."

"Is that an Amazon saying?" Tara raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and smiled.

"I just said it," she pointed out, "so it is now."

"Ah, just another pearl of Tara-wisdom," Willow nodded, "that's good. I like the sound of Amazons in general, of course, but I know I can't go wrong with you."

"Well, don't go too far," Tara said jokingly, "it's not like I'm incapable of getting lost or anything."

"No, but if you do, there's no-one I'd rather be lost with, and that's good enough for me. Shall we go?" She put the amulet back on as Tara went around the room, snuffing out the candles.

"Let's get to the end of this adventure," Tara agreed, taking Willow's arm as they left the map room.

The entrance to the catacombs proved to be, rather than a hatch in the floor, a small door identical to the cupboards alongside it, but which instead opened to the top of a narrow spiral staircase that seemed to go down forever. After heading back to the barracks for whatever supplies they could find that were light and useful – some dried food, a second waterskin, and some rags to serve as extra bedding in case they had to sleep on hard ground – Willow and Tara ventured back underground.

"You're not getting dizzy are you?" Willow asked, as she led the way down, moving slowly and keeping Tara's hand in hers. Tara had picked up a pair of torches, but decided not to use them unless it proved necessary. In the darkness of the spiral stairwell she was relying mostly on Willow's guidance.

"Actually, no," she said, seeming surprised, "I guess dizziness is partly visual."

"Good," Willow nodded. "I'm dizzy," she added in a grumpy undertone.

"I'll kiss you better once we're at the bottom," Tara promised.

"You've got yourself a deal," Willow grinned, squeezing Tara's hand.

The stairwell continued down quite a way, but eventually they reached a tall chamber, like a church hall, whose walls were composed of strangely-shaped geometric stones, interlocking in a complex pattern. Willow bent down to examine the floor.

"Here's our path," she said, "these flagstones are laid out on top of the old stone floor, it's pretty clear. This must be more of the old Imperial architecture. Weird."

"I believe I made you a promise," Tara said quietly, gently tugging Willow back to her feet.

"You did too," Willow agreed, "better keep it then, Amazon honor is at stake."

"An Amazon always," Tara began, lightly brushing her lips over Willow's, "keeps," she made contact again for an instant, nibbling Willow's lower lip, "her promises."

"Mmm," Willow replied, as Tara kissed her properly and deeply. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the feeling of Tara exploring her mouth, casually, carefree and completely assured of her acceptance. Tara worked her lips against Willow's, opening her mouth wide. Her tongue touched Willow's, then stroked along it, again and again, making Willow's legs tremble.

When Tara finally pulled back, gently taking Willow's lip between her teeth for a moment before ending the kiss, Willow wondered for a moment whether her amulet had stopped working, before she realized she'd forgotten to open her eyes.

"Is your dizziness cured?" Tara asked innocently.

"Replaced with a whole different kind of dizziness," Willow said, snuggling up to Tara's side, feeling the need to postpone the next leg of their journey, if only for a few seconds, to bask in Tara's affection.

"Poor Willow," Tara said, stroking her hair, "there's only one cure for *that* kind of dizziness... but unfortunately, this isn't exactly the place for it."

"The place for what?" Willow asked seductively, feeling suddenly unaccountably playful, "for you to tear this leather off me? Run your hands all over me?"

"I was thinking another kiss would do the trick," Tara purred in her ear, "just, not on the lips..."

"Aaah," Willow sighed, "oh yeah... you're right, this isn't exactly the place... these old catacombs sometimes amplify sound when they echo, and the way you make me moan, everything for miles around will hear me."

"Later," Tara promised.

"Later," Willow agreed. She led Tara along the path made by the flagstones, which led through several chambers, Tara holding her staff, with an arm looped around her elbow, while she recorded the turns they took in their journal.

"If we ever come back here when it's safe," Willow said as they entered the third chamber, "we have got to come down here with a whole bunch of torches. The construction down here is amazing."

"How so?" Tara asked.

"It's... the walls are made of these hugs blocks, all jagged like pieces of a jigsaw, and there's no mortar or anything, they just fit together perfectly. There's columns like massive tree trunks, metals laid into the stone... the magic's stronger down here, I could feel it growing as we went down the stairs. There's brackets for torches here and there, and basins of lamp oil, it must be wonderful when it's all lit up."

They finally came to a junction where, on one side, a tunnel of more modern construction led out of the ancient chambers. Willow paused for a moment in the center of the last chamber, crouching down to study the floor.

"There's a pattern in the tiles," she said, "maybe a mosaic, I can see red tiles here and there. I think the middle is the entrance to a lower level, there's similarities to Vizjerei temples I've seen, they'd tend to have a staircase below a floor decorated like this. Gods, this place is huge... how far down have we come?"

"I think we're well below the level of the plain," Tara guessed.

"There's a depression in the center stone," Willow said, "a ring... it might be a magical lock, I can feel a very subtle emanation from it. I wonder if the brothers had a key for it? Or even knew it opened?"

"What do you think is down there?" Willow sat back on her heels, resting her head on Tara's shoulder as she crouched next to her.

"Maybe a vault," she guessed, "a safe place to keep whatever treasures the owner of the building up above had. It could even be a library, the Imperial system placed great value on knowledge. They'd go to extraordinary lengths to make books that would last for centuries, for their most important secrets, and keep them locked in vaults, all enchanted to keep them from decaying. A lot of the books in the Order's library vaults are Imperial, still in perfect condition."

"There's no way to open it without a key?" Tara asked.

"The stone's too heavy," Willow said, standing up and leading the way to the catacomb tunnel. "The old architecture was big on mechanical design, you know, I bet if you used the key that whole stone would just swing out of the way, as if it didn't weigh anything at all. They used counterweights and stuff. Not really my area of expertise, but I've seen some of their constructions, still working. Mind your head," she added, as they passed through the low archway. Fortunately the tunnel beyond was larger.

"The Chancellor's palace in Gotunberg-Sallna is constructed around part of the old city walls that were built by the Empire," Willow went on, "the gates are twenty feet high, huge iron things that never rust, and when they're locked you couldn't budge them with an elephant. But when they unlock this whole system of weights comes into play, and you can swing them open with one hand. I've only seen them from the outside, but Ember's actually been into the palace, and seen them work."

"This Empire sounds like a golden age," Tara observed.

"In many ways it was," Willow agreed, "it was the last time all the western kingdoms were united. The security and stability they had gave them the opportunity to develop the arts and sciences, without the scholars having to take time off to earn a living. They came up with some pretty amazing things. And of course the mage clans all blossomed during the Imperial era, that was when the old Horadrim developed from a group of warrior mages into a proper system of study and learning, and they started really figuring out how magic worked. Before that, during the Sin Wars, they pretty much just did it by trial and error, and any power that worked they flung into battle as quickly as they could. There's some records of achievements that the Empire made, in all sorts of fields, that no-one has any idea how to duplicate nowadays. Like Exhibit A behind us, of course. If you went up to an architect, even one with a mage helping him out, and asked him for a set of catacombs twenty levels deep, built into solid rock, with chambers the size they have here, he'd look at you like you were nuts." She sighed. "Pity it all collapsed," she went on, "the way the histories make it sound, it was a great time."

"That can happen, when adversity pushes people together," Tara said thoughtfully, "they get along because they have to, but when the threat is gone, it's only so long before they go back to how they used to be, worried about their own territory, their own interests. Back home, we learn not to take our unity for granted – for most of our history we've had to remain united to survive against the slaver fleets and pirates, but we're taught that true unity has to come from within. If it's imposed from the outside, it only lasts while the outside force lasts."

"If only the Empire had had some Amazons," Willow mused, "they might still be around."

"I think that was before our time," Tara chuckled. "And anyway, that's just a rule of thumb, it doesn't always apply. For instance, if you and I were somehow both being chased around the wilderness by demons, separately, and ran into each other, well..."

"You've got that right," Willow nodded with a grin. "Adversity or not, I know true love at first sight when it hits me."

"First sight?" Tara asked.

"Uh-huh," Willow agreed, "it may have taken me a while to get up the courage to make a move... or even admit to myself I wanted to... but hey, when you turned up in my wagon, it was like something inside me shifted, like... oh, like my soul had rearranged itself into a new shape that needed you to be complete. I never really knew what love and passion and, and need were, until then."

"Oh Willow," Tara said warmly, "that's beautiful... I think, back then, all I could think about was what it'd be like to touch you, just to... to touch your skin, to feel you on my fingertips."

"I remember you seemed a bit overwhelmed," Willow said, "though, hey, I wasn't exactly miss calm-and-collected myself, as I recall. All that soul stuff I said, that's what I know now, back then I didn't have a clue... all I knew was that you were something completely new, that... my life had never included anything or anyone like you. Actually, even that's probably a bit too eloquent, I think the best my brain was offering me back then was 'wow'."

"We were thinking alike, then," Tara smiled. "And you're still completely 'wow', you know. You always will be."

"You too, my Tara," Willow murmured, raising Tara's hand to her lips.

"Hey, there's a door up ahead," Willow said, perking up after a long stretch of walking through the monotonous tunnel, punctuated by the occasional yawn now that the afternoon, up above ground, was turning into evening.

"We can't be at the village yet," Tara said.

"No, I mean to one side," Willow said, "like another little crypt..." Tara heard the creaking of old hinges, and Willow led her inside.

"I think we've found our home for the night," she said. Tara felt Willow press the amulet into her palm, and she put it on, looking around the small room. It was not unlike the room they had spent the previous night in, with heavy stone tombs lining the walls, but a dry stone floor, enough space on the ground to stretch out, and, she noted, the door was sturdy, and could be locked with a pair of steel bolts from the inside.

"Why would a crypt have a lock on the inside?" she wondered, handing the amulet back to Willow.

"Probably so people could do exactly what we're doing," she guessed, "hole up and stay out of trouble. Maybe in case an enemy got into the catacombs, you could duck in here and stay safe until friends arrived."

"Willow," Tara began, with a thought forming in her mind, "how secure do you think that door is?"

"Oh, pretty good," she replied, "the bolts are solid, I can't see any rust... they go into the stone, and that's definitely solid. The door's nice and thick, and it doesn't look like it's been damaged... I don't see any sign that anything's been in here."

"I think we should both sleep," Tara said. "That way we'll both be fresh tomorrow, we'll be able to get half-way to the river without exhausting ourselves. I don't think we'll be in any danger... and," she admitted, "it's been too long since I slept with you in my arms. I'd like the chance to do that." She felt Willow press against her side and hug her.

"I'd love that," she whispered, "I really would. A-and, I can't tell you how, how wonderful it is, to know it means so much to you."

"You mean everything to me," Tara said softly. "You know I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think we'd be safe-"

"I know," Willow said. "Let's do it. We'll be out in the middle of nowhere tomorrow night, so, yeah, I think, let's not let this opportunity go to waste."

"Thank you," Tara said fondly.

"Thank me?" Willow laughed quietly. "Are you kidding? I get to go to sleep with my lovely Amazon holding me, that's about as close to bliss as I could hope for, given the circumstances. It'd be pretty close to bliss in any circumstances," she added softly.

"Do you want me to unpack the blankets?" Tara asked.

"No, I'll get them, it's no trouble," Willow said. "It's a pity we can't light a torch... actually," she went on thoughtfully, "what if we stuffed some rags into the edges of the door? It's a pretty tight fit anyway, and if we just lit a candle, it'd be enough for us both to see, and there wouldn't be any sign of light outside."

"Okay," Tara agreed, "I'll unpack the rags, you put them around the door. Make sure you don't miss any spots."

"I won't," Willow promised, "there's candles all over the walls, we'll just light one, that should do." She set to shoving the rags Tara handed her into the cracks between the door and its stone frame, as solidly as she could. When she was satisfied with her work she selected a few candles from one of the old iron brackets around the walls, and wedged one upright in the gap between two flagstones, leaving the others in case the first ran down quickly. Tara had already retrieved the matches, and handed her one. She lit the candle and took off the amulet, smiling as her eyes slowly adjusted to the low, warm light.

"This is nice," she said as Tara unpacked some rations for dinner, "you know, if it weren't for the fact that we're in catacombs in the middle of a dangerous wilderness, it'd be downright romantic. Candlelight dinner, a tight, cozy sleeping bag..." She leaned across and kissed Tara gently.

"Mmm," Tara agreed, "forget the wilderness, it is romantic." Willow smiled, and they both leaned back against a wall, munching their bland rations. "Mind you, the food could do with a bit of improvement," Tara noted.

"Yeah," Willow nodded, "traveler's rations just don't compare to a good hot meal. A nice salad on the side, crispy golden potatoes, and something with a little bit of spice... yummy."

"Something with cream sauce," Tara suggested, "doesn't matter what it is... just finishing the meal, and breaking bits of bread off a roll, mopping up the sauce with it..." She smiled at herself. "We really need to get to a decent restaurant."

"They say you can get anything in Duncraig," Willow commented, "magic, arts, crafts, all sorts of things... foods from all over the world."

"Mmm," Tara murmured dreamily, "third thing we do when we get there, have a good, hot meal."

"Third thing?" Willow asked.

"Yep," Tara replied. "First thing: make love until the sun comes up. Second thing: sleep until noon. Third thing: food."

"Fourth thing," Willow offered, "see 'first thing'." Tara smiled, immeasurably glad of the tiny flicker of the candle that let her see Willow's playful grin.

"First thing is going to be getting a lot of use," she said in a low murmur.

"Yay," Willow said, "my favorite thing in the whole world... my Amazon..." Tara put an arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair fondly. "And I'm your sorceress," Willow went on happily, "all yours, all of me... head to toe..." She gave a yawn and finished her ration.

"Tired?" Tara asked gently.

"Mmm-hmm," Willow nodded, "I don't think I realized it until my body heard about the prospect of a good night's sleep."

"Me too," Tara agreed, "though, if the situation were different, I think I'd be finding a bit more energy... the candlelight, holding my lovely Willow in my arms after so long..."

"It's only been two and a half days since we were at the lake," Willow pointed out, taking off her boots. "You're just insatiable. Lucky me," she finished, smiling over her shoulder at Tara, who was setting their torches and matches to one side of their makeshift bed, within reach if need be.

With everything prepared for the night's sleep, and a magic circle around the edge of the room just in case, Willow tucked Tara beneath the blankets and used a tiny trickle of cold to extinguish the candle. Putting on the amulet again she removed the rags from around the door, to let in a small draft to keep their air fresh, then nestled in next to Tara, smiling as she felt Tara's arm go over her waist, and her body mould itself perfectly into Tara behind her. Suddenly, it was as if nothing had ever gone wrong, and they were back in their wagon, safe and secure.

"I love you," she whispered over her shoulder. "You know that, don't you."

"I know it, and you remind me every day," Tara smiled back. "I love you, my Willow. Sleep sound. I've got you."

"Mmm," Willow murmured quietly, "lovely..." She gently stroked the back of Tara's hand. "You too... sweet dreams..."

"You never give me any other kind," Tara whispered, laying her head down. Willow joined her, and before long both were sleeping soundly, the fright and worries of their journey soothed by each other's warm presence, so that they both slept contentedly, safe from bad dreams, though the night.

Chapter 40

Tara awoke feeling rested and content for the first time since she and Willow had fled into the wilderness – so content, in fact, that it took her a moment, and the clue of the darkness surrounding her, to remind herself that there was still a long way to go. She nevertheless felt that they had reached the summit of the mountain they had been climbing, and the rest of the way, however far, was downhill. Whether it was because of what they had discovered the day before, that the master of the demons infesting the land and pursuing them was dead, or simply because a night of uninterrupted sleep with Willow in her arms had lifted her spirits, she didn't know, nor did she trouble herself trying to decide.

She smiled with guilty amusement to find that, again, her hand had strayed during the night to cup Willow's breast, though the feel of leather beneath her fingers didn't compare with warm skin and a racing, aroused heartbeat. With that thought in mind, she lay her head back down and kissed Willow's back, just above the top of the leather around her, slowly and patiently working her way over Willow's skin. She felt Willow stir, and moved her kisses up onto her shoulder.

"Morning," Willow murmured, her voice slurred with sleep, "'s lovely..."

"I agree," Tara said between kisses, "good morning."

"Mmm-mm-mm," Willow chuckled, biting her lip gently. "Come to think of it... mmm... is it morning?"

"I think so," Tara replied, "about an hour after dawn, definitely no more than two hours."

"So..." Willow thought out loud, "we slept... ten hours? Eleven?"

"Something like that," Tara agreed.

"I feel great," Willow smiled in the dark.

"Mmm-hmm," Tara agreed, tightening her hold on Willow and giving her breasts a squeeze through the leather.

"Oh," she sighed, "you feel great too..."

"You know what I feel?" Tara asked, settling back behind Willow and slowly massaging her chest, "I feel safe... I feel cared for... I feel happy. We're deep underground, with demons behind us and goddess-knows-what up ahead, days from safety and a long, difficult road ahead, and... and I feel happy. It's a wonderful feeling, Willow, it's a gift... it's beautiful. Thank you."

"Well, you're welcome," Willow grinned, wriggling around to roll over in Tara's arms, ending up face to face with her. "And you know what, any time you really need me to lie here and be kissed by those divine lips of yours, you just say so. Anything to make my Tara happy." She leaned forward and kissed the tip of Tara's nose. "Just between you and me," she whispered, "it's not exactly a hardship."

She rolled herself and Tara over, finishing up on top of her, and allowed Tara a brief moment of breathless anticipation before leaning down and capturing her lips. Tara tilted her head back against the rolled up blankets serving as a pillow, letting herself be kissed deeply and completely without a hint of reservation. Her body responded on its own, her arms moving around the body pressed against her, her legs tangling with Willow's, slowly kicking away their blankets. Willow gave her tongue free rein in exploring Tara's mouth, teasing her lips, dipping in to touch her tongue or swirl deeply, stimulating Tara much as if she were making love to her. Tara felt Willow's lips against hers turn up in a smile as she responded with increasing vigor. She was breathing heavily by the time Willow released her mouth, and had to fight the impulse to moan.

"I want you," she whispered instead, firm and insistent.

"Now?" Willow whispered in reply, arousal warring with surprise. Tara's hands found their way into Willow's hair and closed, holding handfuls of silk as she stared sightlessly up into the dark where she knew Willow was staring back at her.

"I want you," she repeated carefully, "right now. I want to feel your heartbeat in your sex all around my fingers, I want to feel you come in my arms, I- mmmph," she was cut off as Willow kissed her again, this time fierce and full of need. It lasted only seconds, though it seemed longer, and when Willow pulled back this time, it was with Tara's tongue snaking out to catch one last taste of her lips.

"Take me," she whispered, her breath hot against Tara's face, one hand running up and down the length of her side, "make love to me right here, baby, do it."

Tara hesitated for the briefest moment, her sense of caution making one last stand now that they were at the point of no return, and as if reading her mind Willow murmured: "I'll be quiet, lover. Take what's yours."

Then there was no hesitation at all, and Tara reached for Willow's skirt, finding it already bunched around her hips, and Willow's free hand busily pulling her underwear out of the way. Unwilling to wait for Willow to undress, Tara simply slipped her fingers in beneath the fabric covering Willow's sex, pushing it out of the way as she felt the intense wetness waiting for her.

"You need this, don't you," she whispered in Willow's ear, running her fingertips through her moist folds teasingly.

"Uh-huh," Willow breathed, licking at Tara's exposed neck.

"Goddess you're wet," Tara went on, "oh baby, oh goddess you want me so much..."

"I need you," Willow trembled, "inside... now..."

"Touching your core," Tara whispered, "your juices flowing over my fingers..."

"Yes," Willow replied pleadingly.

"Willow," Tara moaned quietly, sliding a finger inside Willow's soaking sex. Feeling the way Willow thrust her hips against her, and her center opened up for her, she added a second finger almost at once, and began a steady rhythm, her fingertips easily recalling just where to touch Willow inside to reach every corner of her being, her thumb sliding over her clit.

"Ooh, yes baby," Willow whispered, "yes yes yes, make me come, make me yours..."

"You are mine," Tara whispered in return, "all mine, just feel that Willow, feel how you're open for me, feel how your body wants me deep in you-"

"Yes-"

Tara was so focused on Willow's arousal, the sensations of loving her – always strikingly vivid, but after their enforced abstinence, almost blindingly strong – that she barely noticed Willow's thigh slip between her legs, of her own hips begin grinding her sex against Willow, joining her in her rise to climax.

"-all mine, Willow, all mine, my lover, my goddess, come for me Willow, for me, oh- "

She silenced herself by capturing Willow's mouth in a searing kiss, each releasing a soft moan as their bodies reached their own release. Tara kept stroking Willow as long as the shudders ran through her, rewarded by the trembling of Willow's thigh on her mound, as well as by the pleasure radiating off her lover. At last she withdrew, and both their hips stilled their rhythms as she raised her fingers to her lips, sharing the taste with Willow as she slid her fingertips between their joined lips.

"Mmm," Willow moaned approvingly, "mmm, oh gods you're so wonderful... so beautiful, my love..."

"I love you too," Tara whispered, granting herself the last drops of juice from her fingers as Willow kissed around her jaw and neck. She sighed, and composed her thoughts.

"We should get up," she said, with a touch of regret.

"Yeah," Willow agreed ruefully, "I guess... two hours after dawn, you think? So how far will we go today?"

"I think we can make the valley," Tara said as Willow rolled off her. "See if it looks safe to go through, and if so we can find somewhere under cover of the trees to spend the night."

"If not?"

"The highlands on either side will take longer," Tara frowned, "and unless there's some new growth that the map painting didn't show, we might have to spend the night in the open. Not completely, we can probably find a little gully or something, but it wouldn't be my first choice."

Seeing as Willow could see clearly Tara let her attend to their belongings, spending the time by finding some of the dried rations from the monastery in her pack, which she could do by feel. Their meager breakfast eaten, Willow rolled up the blankets and packed them away, along with a few candles just in case, while Tara did her best with a spare cloth to wipe away the moisture still clinging to her sex, and clean her underwear.

"I'll dry those," Willow offered. "It's only fair, seeing as I was kind of involved in making them wet to start with."

"Thanks," Tara smiled. Willow's spell cast a dim blue glow that let Tara see the shape of her face. It was a surprisingly beautiful moment, to see her eyes reflecting the glow, the hint of the shape of her cheeks and jaw, and Tara was grateful for it.

"I really want to get back into daylight," she confessed as she was pulling on the straps of her pack and fixing her bow into place over it, "I miss seeing you."

"Me too," Willow said. "I mean, I can see you, of course, but it's not the same... here," she took Tara's hand and brought it to her lips, letting Tara trace the curves of her face.

"Love you," Tara said warmly.

"Love you too," Willow said, turning to kiss Tara's palm. "Let's go find us some sunlight."

"The air's moving freer," Tara observed quietly as she and Willow made their way along the tunnel, "I think the door may be open at that end."

"Something might have gotten in?" Willow wondered, keeping a firm grip on her staff.

"I don't know," Tara admitted, "there haven't been any signs of anything in the tunnel..."

"Not that I could see," Willow added.

"...I think there may be a gateway, like in the western tunnel. It's difficult to tell, if the air were moving slower it'd be easier..."

"We can't be far from the end now," Willow mused, "if there's a gate, it can't be far ahead. I don't see anything to the next turn."

"I don't feel anything moving," Tara added. She shrugged, and gave Willow's hand a gentle squeeze as they continued on their way.

"There's the gate," Willow said quietly as they rounded a turn in the tunnel, "it's still closed." She paused as she felt Tara's hand tense in hers.

"There's something there," Tara whispered.

"I don't see anything," Willow replied. "There's..." she peered into the distance, trying to separate the shapes her altered eyes were showing her. "There's something up against the gate, but it's not moving. It's small."

"It's alive," Tara said with certainty, "not a demon..." She started forward instinctively, and Willow kept up with her, not for the first time impressed that Tara was finding her way along the tunnel with ease, despite the complete lack of light.

"I think it's a person," she whispered, "it's weak..."

"I don't... no, I see," Willow said, "it's a child, wait, I'll open the gate-" She paused and touched a stone on the wall, in the same place she had in the western tunnel. The gate shuddered and swung open.

"Light a torch," she suggested as she and Tara neared the curled-up form huddled in a dirty blanket just on the other side of the gateway. Tara reached over her shoulder and drew a torch from her pack while Willow found the matches in a pocket and pressed one into Tara's palm. They reached the child and Willow knelt beside her, afraid of how still and frail the small body seemed.

"Gods," she whispered, "it's just a little girl..." She tentatively reached out a hand, as Tara struck the match on the wall and lit the torch. Worried the girl wouldn't wake up, she touched her shoulder and gently shook her.

The girl jerked awake in an instant, and Willow had to lunge forward to get her hand behind her head, to stop it from hitting the wall hard. The child looked around fearfully for a second, then scrambled to her hands and knees and tried to scurry past Willow. Willow caught her arm as she passed and stopped her, causing the girl to wail and struggle feebly, but already the burst of activity was tiring her and she was barely able to resist as Willow got her other arm around her waist and held her.

"It's okay," she whispered, "it's okay, we're not going to hurt you..." She couldn't tell whether the girl heard her or not, as her only response was to emit another plaintive wail, accompanied by a feeble effort to break free.

"It's alright," Willow whispered soothingly, as Tara knelt beside her and gently took the girl's hand, managing to get her fingers into the weakly clenched fist and hold it. "It's alright honey, it's okay, you're safe, shh, it's okay..." Looking desperately at Tara, she gathered the girl up and held her, rocking her gently and whispering to her. Tara gently stroked her thumb over the back of the girl's hand, as the wail faltered and gave way to shallow breathing.

"Good girl," Tara whispered gently, "that's good, we're not going to hurt you..."

"Who're you?" came a tiny, frightened voice from where the girl's head was cuddled against Willow's chest.

"I'm Willow," she replied, "this is Tara. Are you okay? Please don't run off?"

"You're not goblins?" the girl asked suspiciously.

"No, we're not goblins," Willow said, "we're people, just like you, see?" The girl tentatively raised her head, and gazed at Willow, and then Tara. Tara smiled warmly, and not to Willow's surprise, the girl relaxed.

"Are you hungry, sweetie?" Tara tried. "We've got some food?"

"'es," the girl admitted. Tara handed the torch to Willow and quickly found some rations in her pack, breaking off bite-sized chunks and handing them to the girl, along with a waterskin. The girl ate voraciously, which confirmed Willow's suspicion that she had been down here a long time. Aside from the blanket she had been huddled in, which was stained with dirt from the ground, an empty waterskin, a few rags and scattered crumbs showed that she had exhausted whatever food she had brought with her. Tara stood up and, with Willow pointing the way, found the stone that closed the gate behind them. She then took the torch and wedged it in the gate, leaving both their hands free.

"There's some candles in the lower pockets in your pack," Willow suggested quietly as the girl continued to eat and drink. "Slowly, honey," she added to the girl. Tara lit a candle from the torch and set it on the floor, nodding to Willow to indicate that there was enough light.

"Are you okay?" she gently asked the girl, who at Willow's prompting had slowed her pace and was munching steadily through the food she had been given, with mouthfuls of water now and then. She paused, as if considering, and then nodded once. Willow continued to hold her, stroking her hair tenderly as she ate. Tara watched her, and smiled at the way she comforted the child.

"Where're you from?" the girl asked eventually.

"We're from a long way away," Willow explained, "I'm a sorceress, and Tara's an Amazon."

"What's a sorceress?"

"I do magic," Willow smiled.

"Where are you from?" Tara asked gently.

"The village," the girl said. "But everyone went strange, and then the goblins came and I came here. My daddy always said if there was trouble we'd all come here and go up to the castle together." She paused, and sniffed. "Do you know where my daddy is?"

"No, honey, I don't," Willow said sadly, "I'm sorry."

"He went strange like everyone else," the girl said somberly, "they all went strange and wouldn't listen to me, and no-one would help me close the gates, so I ran away, but no-one came with me. I think," she added in a trembling whisper, "the goblins got them..."

"Do you have a name, sweetie?" Tara asked, changing the subject as the girl began to look fearful again.

"Amalee," she nodded.

"That's a nice name," Willow offered, looking to Tara for inspiration.

"Amalee," Tara said, "we're going to look after you, okay? We'll make sure you're safe. Do you understand?"

"Okay," the girl said after a moment's consideration.

"We're going to Duncraig," Tara explained, "do you know where that is?"

"That's the big city," Amalee said, "I went there once. There were big towers, and lots of people, and boats. My uncle lives there, he's a architect," she pronounced the word patiently, "he makes big buildings."

"Sweetie, do you have any other family? Apart from in the village?" The girl shook her head slowly.

"Just daddy and granny," she said in a small voice. "They live-" her voice caught. "They lived in the village with me." She closed her eyes for a moment, and swallowed to regain her composure. "Will you take me to the city?" she asked.

"Of course, honey," Willow smiled, "we'll take you to your uncle, okay?"

"Okay," Amalee nodded. She looked up at Willow. "What's wrong with your eyes?" Willow was surprised for a moment, until she remembered the effect of the amulet she wore.

"Nothing's wrong," she said reassuringly, "it's magic. It's so I can see in the dark."

"Oh," the girl said, accepting the explanation without question. "You look like a cat person."

"You know," Willow said, "Tara's seen a real cat woman, haven't you?" Amalee's eyes went wide in the torchlight.

"For real?"

"Uh-huh," Tara nodded.

"Did she have eyes like Willow?"

"She had gold eyes," Tara said, "but apart from the color, yes, like Willow's." She gave Willow a quick glance, relieved that the girl's spirits were lifting.

"Did she have fur?" Amalee asked.

"Yes," Tara said, "black fur, all over, with a white stripe."

"Wow. Did she have a tail?"

"Yes, she had a tail." Tara glanced again at Willow, and nodded towards the expanse of tunnel beyond them.

"Can you walk with us, honey?" Willow asked Amalee.

"Yes," the girl said, with vigorous nodding. "Are we going to the monastery?"

"No honey, it's not safe there," Willow said carefully, "we're going to the river, so we can get a boat to the city."

"Oh," Amalee said. "I know the way to the river."

"Do you?" Willow smiled. "Will you be our guide, then?"

"Okay." The girl smiled faintly and got to her feet, seemingly enlivened by being given a job to do. Tara watched her with a smile of her own, and caught Willow's hand long enough for a brief squeeze.

Tara carried the torch, still burning so Amalee could see, as they followed the tunnel back towards its entrance. Amalee's blanket they left behind, giving her instead a clean one from Tara's pack to put around her shoulders. A couple of questions and a brief check confirmed that she wasn't hurt in any way, just hungry and frightened, but her spirits remained high as she bombarded Willow with questions.

"Can you do a fireball?"

"No honey, my magic uses ice, not fire," Willow explained.

"Oh. Can you freeze water?"

"Yes."

"Can you freeze a whole tub of water at once?" Amalee wanted to know.

"Yes, if I wanted to."

"Can you freeze a whole lake?"

"Um, maybe, if I tried really hard."

"Can you freeze a goblin?"

"If we have to," Willow said gently. "I promise we'll keep you safe."

"Promise?" Amalee asked, suddenly with a note of need in her voice.

"I promise," Willow repeated. "And Tara's a warrior, she won't let any goblins get anywhere near you."

"You're a warrior?" Amalee asked Tara.

"That's right sweetie," Tara smiled.

"I thought girls couldn't be warriors?"

"It's different where I come from," Tara said, "all the warriors are girls."

"Oh. Can I be a warrior too?"

"If you want to, when you're older, maybe," Tara conceded.

"I saw a warrior once," Amalee said seriously, "he had a big horse, and a shiny sword. Do you have a sword?"

"No sweetie, I have a spear. And a bow. Amazons don't use swords."

"You know," Willow said, "Tara can do magic with her spear and bow." Amalee looked at Tara, wide-eyed.

"Uh-huh," Tara nodded.

"Can I learn to do magic?" Amalee asked.

"Maybe," Willow said, "there's lots of different kinds of magic, maybe you'll find one you like."

"The warrior said his sword was magic," the girl went on, "he said it made him stronger and faster."

"Maybe it did," Willow said, "Tara's spear is magic. So's my staff."

"What does it do?"

"My staff? It means that if someone tries to cast a spell at me, I can stop them."

"Like an evil wizard?"

"Um, yes, something like that," Willow said.

"What does your spear do?" Amalee asked Tara.

"Have you ever seen lightning strike the ground?" Tara asked with a grin.

"Of course, silly," Amalee said with an amused frown.

"Well, I can make lightning in my spear," Tara said, "so if a goblin, or something like that, tries to get anywhere near you, zap!" She jabbed her spear forward for effect.

"Wow," Amalee breathed. "Can all Amazons make lightning?"

"Not all," Tara said, "you have to practice very hard."

"She can shoot an arrow and make it catch fire as well," Willow added. Amalee stared at Tara in wonder.

The doorway turned out to be not much farther along the tunnel, the door slightly ajar, but by the look of it still undiscovered by anything that may have been in the village above. Amalee slipped easily between the door frame and the barrels on the other side of it, while Willow and Tara had a difficult time squeezing through the narrow gap, and Tara had to take off her pack and pass it through first in order to get through. Tara went first up the narrow ladder, and cautiously opened the trap door, peering out into the hall above them.

"It's empty," she said, and pushed the hatch back, allowing Amalee and Willow to follow her up. Willow noticed Amalee had fixed her eyes on the floor in front of her, not looking up at anything.

"Hey," she said, crouching down in front of her, "want to see something?" She waited until she had the girl's attention, then reached up and undid the clasp on the amulet, keeping her eyes open with a little effort as color and brightness flooded back to her.

"Wow. Does it hurt?"

"No, not at all," Willow said, "it's magic."

"You have pretty eyes," Amalee observed.

"She does, doesn't she?" Tara agreed. She took a moment to observe Amalee, now that they were in daylight. The girl's face and limbs were smudged with dirt, from her time hiding in the tunnel, and her strawberry blonde hair was tangled, but beneath all that she seemed a lively young girl. About eight, Tara guessed, with tanned skin and a build that suggested a healthy, energetic life, though she had definitely been in need of the food she had wolfed down earlier. Tara was glad she had evidently been well fed and cared for before fleeing; otherwise, she might have been in a much worse condition, and the thought of seeing the young girl, with her inquisitive eyes and quick smile, sick, or worse, was more than Tara thought she could bear, on top of everything else they had been through.

'Of course, how many others are gone?' she thought. 'Families and children who used to live here?' She clamped down on the thought, and was grateful that Willow, seeming to read her mind, chose that moment to give her a chaste hug. She smiled her thanks, and the three of them walked down the length of the church hall, which was not so different to the one in the western village, and out into the square.

This too seemed familiar, with the rows of simple wooden buildings, the handful of stores dotted around the square, with stables and storehouses further back, the forge to one side, and the road leading up to the gate in the wooden stockade. Here, though, one side of the village had been gutted by fire, the buildings blackened and half-destroyed, though by some miracle the square and the buildings beyond it had been spared, save for a soot-blackened corner or charred timber here and there.

Amalee broke away from them and ran a few steps towards one of the burned buildings, but stopped before either Willow or Tara could call to her. Tara glanced at Willow and met a glum look, matching her own thoughts, and together they slowly walked to either side of the young girl.

"The goblins had torches," she said simply, turning away. "I saw them. I warned everyone, but they wouldn't listen."

"There was a bad wizard," Willow said softly, "but he's gone now. It wasn't your fault."

"I just ran..." Amalee started again, and choked on a sob. Both Willow and Tara hugged her.

"That's what your daddy would have wanted," Tara said gently, "he would have wanted you to be safe. I bet you were afraid, going into that tunnel all alone?"

"'es," Amalee said.

"That was very brave, sweetie," Tara said soothingly, "going into the dark all alone. I think your father would have been very proud of you, doing that even though your were scared."

"He told me to," Amalee said indistinctly, "he said, if ever there was trouble, to go into the tunnel and wait for people to come. And I waited for so long, and I ran out of food and water, but no-one came, but then you did."

"That's right honey," Willow said, "we'll look after you." The girl's crying subsided after a moment.

"I want to go now," she said. Willow nodded, and she and Tara each took one of Amalee's hands as they walked towards the gate.

Outside the land was much as it had been to the west. The grassy plain stretched off to either side and ahead, marked only by the road to the village which disappeared south, and a track which faded away in the grass to the east. Up ahead Tara could see the northern rise bordering the valley they were heading for – the southern rise was hidden behind low hills that rose out of the plain that way. Once they had gone a little way along the track she turned and looked back at the monastery, perched on the edge of its cliff.

"Looks kind of peaceful, doesn't it," Willow observed quietly.

"Yeah," Tara agreed sadly. The sun was shining brightly, giving the stone walls an inviting, earthy tone, and in the sky beyond the clouds were piled high, giving the impression of a tower rising up from inside the walls. As they watched a cloud passed over the sun, its shadow traveling quickly along the cliffs and over the building.

"Come on," Amalee said, "this track leads to the river. We used to follow it down every month, to take things to the pier to sell to the boats going past." She took a hand each from Willow and Tara and urged them forward.

"How long did it take you to get to the river?" Tara asked.

"Two days," Amalee said, "I can walk all the way."

"Really?" Willow grinned.

"Yep," the girl said proudly, "daddy let me lead the ponies. I never get tired."

"Well, just in case you do-" Tara began.

"I don't," Amalee repeated stubbornly.

"Just in case," Tara smiled, "you let us know, and we can stop for a rest."

"Okay," Amalee conceded after a sidelong glance at Tara.

"Spirited little thing, isn't she?" Willow said quietly.

"Remind you of anyone?" Tara replied with a grin.

"I can hear you, you know," Amalee pointed out, then joined in as Willow and Tara laughed.

"Are we going through the valley?" she asked after a moment.

"It depends," Willow said, "we'll see when we get there."

"Daddy always took us through the valley," Amalee went on seriously, "but he said I was never to go in there alone. He said I might get lost. I never get lost, though," she pointed out.

"Well, you're not alone," Tara said, "you're with us."

"That's right," Amalee nodded, "I'm showing you the way. Are you both Amazons?" she added without pause.

"No," Willow said.

"Willow's an honorary Amazon," Tara corrected, earning a brilliant smile from Willow.

"Don't you have to be born an Amazon to be one?" Amalee asked.

"Not necessarily," Tara explained, "in fact, there didn't used to be Amazons at all. The first Amazons were just people from all over the world who banded together. We believe it's how we live, not where we were born, that makes us Amazons."

"Oh," Amalee said. "So you want to live with the Amazons?" she asked Willow.

"Yes," Willow said, glancing warmly at Tara.

"Can I be an Amazon?" the girl asked.

"Maybe one day," Tara smiled, "you're going to Duncraig now. One thing at a time." Amalee thought about this for a moment, then nodded solemnly.

"So you're in armor because you're an Amazon?" she asked Willow.

"Um, not exactly," Willow said, "I just happened to be wearing this a few days ago... we were on the road out to the west, only there were Carv- goblins," she corrected herself, "so we came this way."

"Oh. Do you normally wear wizard robes?"

"Um, yes, more or less."

"Often less," Tara murmured in an undertone too soft for Amalee to hear. She smiled at seeing Willow blush.

"So how come you were wearing Amazon clothes?" Amalee asked.

"Oh... well, we just wanted to see what I'd look like in this," Willow explained.

"You were playing dress-up?"

"Yes," Willow nodded, "yes, that's it."

"Aren't you too old to play that?" Amalee asked critically.

"You're never too old to play," Willow said sincerely, with a surreptitious swat on Tara's bottom when the girl wasn't watching.

"Okay," she said, oblivious to Tara's blush. "Can I wear your armor?"

"Not now, honey," Willow said, "if you did, I'd have nothing to wear."

"Maybe later," Tara said innocently. Smiling and listening to Amalee launch into an extensive description of all the outfits she had worn at one time or another, they walked on across the plain towards the valley.

Continued...

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