The road to the sea is that a way

[blackdog1]

Milo focused on his arrow all the way to it's target and did not move until he saw it strike home. He heard the man cry out as he fell out of sight into the underbrush. Another cry behind him broke his concentration, turning around he watched the creature charge directly toward Ganlon.

He didn't hesitate to drop his bow and loose his axes as he closed the distance to Ganlon's attacker. As he moved, the thing delivered a powerful blow that Ganlon blocked with his shield. Seeing that Ganlon's sword had little effect on his initial attack, Milo paused for an instant to boldly change his own attack plan.

Milo had to put his whole body into the attack to have any chance of success. With one axe held high and the other low he surged at the back of the creature as it prepared to strike at Ganlon again. He let his high axe hook onto the things neck as he smashed the other up into it's crotch, hoping for a soft spot at one end or the other. If neither blade pierced the things flesh, his best hope was to stay latched on to the thing and offer a good target for Ganlon.

He just hoped that one tactic or the other would work, because he was all out of plans.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon never lost focus on the creature. The X that he had drawn with his imagination stayed firmly planted on the creature. What he did lose focus on was his sword. It fell to the ground with a clang as it struck a rock.

Ganlon leaned down to retrieve the sword just as Milo struck. The force of his blows drove the creature forward and into Ganlon. When Ganlon’s skin met with the creature’s skin he could feel it. The creature held no light. There was only darkness where the light of life should be.

At first this startled Ganlon. He had only felt this once before. He remembered his meeting with the Merchant on the road. He remembered the creature that dwelled inside of the woman. He remembered how the light from the chalice had driven the creature away.

This was a demon. Ganlon’s dreams returned to him. He saw the mountain and the demon that stood on the hill and looked at him. The more recent dream with James broke free from the back of his head in full bright colors and Ganlon once again felt the fear that came with it.

Ganlon felt the rush of his adrenaline again and his stomach turned with the fight or flight reaction. Ganlon swallowed hard and then he heard her. The voice was soft at first. The voice of the Goddess pushed through the door in his mind.

“You are chosen.” It was a whisper.

“You are chosen.” It was a normal voice.

“YOU ARE CHOSEN.” It was a flood of sound that blasted the door in his mind open.

Ganlon pushed away from the creature and back.

“Milo, hold him there for a moment.” Ganlon felt that he was glowing. As stupid as it was at this point Ganlon dropped to his knees and turned his back to the creature. He drew off his backpack and reached inside for the Chalice. He hoped that Milo was protecting his back right now because the Bearberries, bedroll, and breakfast that he had stowed his in backpack were just not cooperating in allowing him to find the Chalice.

[blackdog1]

Milo had little choice but to continue his hold on the creature. He put his whole body into maintaining the pressure of his hold while trying to pull the creature backward and away from Ganlon.

To his surprise the creature only resisted for a few seconds before dragging Milo where ever It wanted with It's superior strength. It turned around quickly two or three times, like a dog chasing it's tail, pulling Milos ineffective feet from under him as it went.

Milo saw Ganlon go by each time the creature turned around. Ganlon had his back to them and seemed to be distracted by the contents of his backpack. Milo shouted his name a few times in an attempt to get his attention, but it appeared to have little effect.

Milo was willing to give Ganlon a moment or two, but eventually they would lose their advantage and have to face the beast head on.

Changing it's course again, the creature stopped chasing it's tail and started shuffling quickly backwards. Milo didn't have time to look behind him before the impact came. He assumed that it was a large oak tree.

With the air suddenly pushed from his lungs, Milo tried to keep his hold for the next battering. The second and third blows against the tree came painfully close together. His ribs ached and his lungs burned in spite of the cushioning effect of his backpack. He didn't know if he could hold on for another round against the tree and tried to get as much air into his lungs as he could as the creature took a few casual steps away from the tree.

The sharp blow to his left shoulder and the intense pain that followed were too much for Milo. He lost his grip and sagged to the ground. Seeing blood on the snow in front of his face, he groped about with his good arm to find the source of his newest pain. A crossbow bolt lodged in the back and protruding from the front would be the answer.

In the confusion created by one attacker, they had forgotten about others that could be lurking about.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon fumbled and threw things from his pack and onto the ground. He finally found the chalice. This was the last time that he would pack it this deep.

He rose from to his feet and turned around just as Milo fell to the snow with an audible thud. Oh, Zall, thought Ganlon.

“Well this sucks on a level that has never sucked this bad before.” Ganlon spoke out loud. The visual of Milo laying on the ground, the beast over him, and a Cattleman standing with an empty crossbow shook him.

Focus, Ganlon, he said to himself. He grabbed the chalice in both hands before him and closed his eyes. He heard the foot falls as the Cattleman ran towards him. He felt for life around him. He felt Milo as the nearest willing participant. As hurt as he was Ganlon needed a little of Milo’s light to win this fight. Please let me in Milo. Milo was too filled with pain to be a help. Ganlon moved on.

Ganlon felt the Horses near by and asked them with his will if they would help. Both could feel the light from the Goddess and accepted his push into their being. He drew the light of their being into his Chalice. He let the light from his head flow down his arms and into the chalice.

The light of life from the horses mixed with his and he felt the power growing. He could only hold it for a moment more. He felt the power come back up his arms and into his head.

“I am Chosen.” The words rang from his mouth with a force of wind and light that shot from him at the beast. He saw it strike the beast in the chest. Then Ganlon felt the sword pierce his side. He looked as the Cattleman’s smile filled his vision.

What do I do now, Father? Ganlon thought to himself. Ganlon’s training suddenly took charge. Ganlon grabbed the Cattleman’s wrists and forearms and pulled him closer to him.

“I am Chosen, you stupid Zalling idiot.” Ganlon spurted the words. “Did you think I was just going to fall over when you stabbed me?” Ganlon was surprised at his anger, but he allowed it to fuel him.

“I could care less who you think you are. You’ll die just like anybody else.” The Cattleman was strong and pulled away. The cattleman pulled his sword from Ganlon’s side. Ganlon felt a weakness hit him like a wall. His knees were weak and he wavered a little bit. He was just able to hold his feet.

“Now you die and those who wait to fully cross the veil will give me my reward.” Ganlon saw the swing coming. He knew it was designed to remove his head. His father had taught him of the X’s one draws on an opponent with your mind. He taught him to thrust and cut from his wrist, arm, and shoulder. He remembered his Father often knocking him to the ground when he over extended.

The Cattleman’s swing came. Ganlon dropped to his knees as the sword began its arc. The sword passed over his head with a whistle that just barely scratched the top of his helm. Ganlon punched as hard as he could straight into the man’s groin.

The air in the Cattleman came out with a short burst. Ganlon saw a look of surprise on the man’s face. Now it was the Cattleman’s turn to waver on his feet. He pushed off of Ganlon’s head and stepped back.

The Cattleman placed his sword tip into the ground and leaned on it. He looked at Ganlon and caught his breath.
“There’s a mistake I won’t make twice.” The Cattleman said. He stood up and prepared to move to Ganlon.

Ganlon looked furiously for his sword and shield. His sword was out of reach but his shield was at his feet. He grabbed his shield and placed it on his arm. Good Goddess his side hurt.

“Okay, ugly. I am ready.” Ganlon tried to stand and fell back to one knee. The Cattleman laughed a vicious giggle that Ganlon felt echo in his head.

[blackdog1]

Things were happening around Milo that he was having trouble focusing on. The creature was moving away from him and he perceived the movement of someone else moving toward Ganlon.

Milo shifted his weight in an attempt to get off the ground and was greeted with the painful grinding of wood on bone in his shoulder. He clamped down with his teeth and eyes as he drew in a long breath to help push down the pain and dissipate the stars he saw on the inside of his eyelids.

He felt a rush of wind and saw a bright flash of light as he mustered the strength to roll onto his right side in attempt to sit up. The creature before him stopped in it's tracks, stilled for a moment before falling over like a dead tree.

To Milo's horror, the second rider was already upon Ganlon. Ganlon stood entranced and motionless as the rider plunged his blade into Ganlon.

Milo looked for something, anything that he could use to help them. He spied one of his axes, bloodied, on the ground. The fact that it was bloody brought a hint of a smile to his lips. He carefully gathered it into his right hand.

Ganlon continued to fight even though he was hurt. Milo hoped to strike before the rider had the chance.

As the rider rested on his sword, Milo raised his axe behind and above his head.

The rider rose to his full height and Ganlon fell to a knee as Milo steadied his ragged breathing.

Silently praying to whoever might be listening, Milo threw his axe as the rider emitted a strange inhuman giggle.

The axe sunk deep between the unarmored shoulder blades of the rider, propelling him toward Ganlon's shield.

Milo used the tree to regain his feet. Picking up his second axe from the ground, he unsteadily prepared himself for whatever was coming at them next.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon watched as the face of the Cattleman changed from a gloating smile to an opened mouth look of surprise. The man fell forward and on to Ganlon’s shield.
He made an attempt to brace himself for the fall that he saw coming as the full wait of the man crushed him to the ground. His fatigue and wound were too much for him and the dead body pushed him down and onto his stomach. He felt as the light that was the man’s life left him. He smelled the horses that Cattleman had been tending all over the man’s clothing.

The last pumping of the man’s heart pushed a warmth of blood onto Ganlon’s face as the dead man’s mouth came into contact with Ganlon in a wet completely unwanted kiss of death. Ganlon actually allowed a small laugh to come from his lips as the cold dirt of the ground entered his mouth. He was alive and right at that moment that’s all that mattered to him.

Ganlon didn’t know how long he laid there. He did know that it took tremendous effort just to breath. The man lying on top of him and the wound in his side didn’t allow for his diaphragm to expand. He tried rolling to his right but that was where the wound was and after the first lighting bolt of pain reminded him of this he guarded it with his right arm and didn’t try that again.

Ganlon rolled to his left and pushed the body of the Cattleman off and sat up. He tried again to take a full breath and the pain that followed made him blurt words were colorful enough to make a busy street whore blush. He then took stock of his surroundings.

Good Goddess his head hurt just a little bit less than his side. His helmet was dented and lay fifteen to twenty feet to his right. He wasn’t sure whether that had happened when he was knocked down or when the swing for his head came. The Chalice lay right in front of him and even with the pain he made a grab for it. He was happily rewarded with possession of the Chalice but unhappily reminded of his stupidity when the pain in his side made his eyes go blurry.

He had left his shield under the dead man and his sword was to his left. The sword looked to have a large chip in it where it had hit the stone when he dropped it. The contents of his backpack were scattered all over the place and the breakfast that Milo had made for him was open and all of the food was covered with dirt.

Oh Goddess, Milo.

“Milo? Milo?” Ganlon yelled and tried to stand. He made it to one knee and stopped as he saw Milo leaning against a tree not far from where had last seen him. He saw the wound in Milo’s shoulder and couldn't help himself he blurted,“Hail the conquering Heros and their gorgeous looks. Milo are you better or worse than me you think?” Ganlon’s smile lit his face in spite of his fatigue and pain. The question hung in the air for a moment as Ganlon looked to the where the monster lay on the ground.

It was uncanny. The thing looked once again human. There was no light in it that Ganlon could find and he was sure it was dead. No, that wasn’t quite right. Ganlon knew that the thing had been dead for quite some time. The body was free of the demon that had in habited it. Where the demon had gone was not a major concern for Ganlon at that moment. Ganlon knew that he had to fix himself and Milo soon or they would be in serious jeopardy of infection not to mention any other baddies, bad men, or bad creatures that still lurked about. He didn’t know if he had enough energy to pull it off.

Ganlon reached down to where his herb pouch hung on his belt. Oh thank the Goddess it was still there. He pulled the string and felt inside. He had one pre-made poultice inside. Two people hurt and only one poultice. Planning, Ganlon, he heard his father’s voice in his head, you were never good at planning ahead.

Ganlon sat back down on his butt. He felt the tears coming then. Ganlon wasn’t sure whether they were tears of joy for being alive or tears fear of dying here in the middle of nowhere. He was sure that the tears made him feel less like he was going to explode.


The demon that had inhabited the now empty shell of a creature watched as the human that had caused him to lose his spot on the other side of the veil cried. He would never understand how things so weak, things that could cry after winning a fight, could be capable of defeating a demon like him.

The light that had caused him pain and forced him to depart the body that he had held for more than ten years had come from a higher power. He realized that it had come from someplace other than just the stink bag that sat on the ground crying. Still the stink bag had enough strength to allow that light to pass through him. He glanced to the Half-Elf; even that stink bag of a creature had held its own until one of the Cattlemen followers had hit him with the crossbow bolt.

He knew that it was his job at this point to tell Limbeck of the loss and the Chalice. The Chalice intrigued him and he allowed his bodiless energy to attempt to touch it. He wasn’t even able to get close enough to see what it was made of as he felt the pull to return across the veil. If he made a good enough report he might even be able to make it back across the veil a second time.

He began concocting a story in its consciousness about how the loss came from the Cattlemen’s carelessness. The story included how it was their fault that they had lost the element of surprise. It wasn’t that far from the truth. There was still the possibility that these two stink bags would die from their wounds and that was the larger angle that the demon began to spin.

Limbeck was on a mission to find the Shard of the Amulet and wouldn’t turn back to finish these two off; however, the demon knew that he would probably stop to find more mercenaries or Demon’s to finish the job. Limbeck would not be happy with the delay but the demon knew that Limbeck would want to make sure that these two had died.

The demon could stay here no longer and allowed the pull from across the veil to pull him back to the Nexus that was Limbeck. All the current demons had to come through Limbeck and to Limbeck they returned to go back through the void. The demon laughed once more at the stink bag human and elf and let the pull take him to Limbeck.

[blackdog1]

Milo was relieved to see that Ganlon had the strength to rise after the blow that he had taken, hopefully he would remain standing. He tried to make eye contact and give a positive nod before securing his arm well enough to walk about.

Ganlon appeared to be stunned by the aftermath of a few minutes of chaos, but quickly came to his senses and began to care for his own wounds.

Milo knew that he was bleeding freely and had just taken a hell of a beating. Taking stock of himself he also knew that nothing was broken and that he was not going to bleed to death any time soon.

Moving slowly and cautiously through the trees, Milo approached the spot where the first rider waited to ambush them.

The rider lay in the grey. wet snow. His breath came short and fast, his eyes fixed an the blue sky overhead. He never looked at Milo as his own crossbow was held inches from his eye and the bolt released into his skull. Milo then retrieved his own arrow in case it was needed again.

It was puzzling to Milo that the man carried no personal possessions, only the crossbow, bolts and an oil skin cape. Making a package of these items, he continued across the empty road to set the horses free. With a single slap on the rump they headed back down the road and across the bridge.

By the time he returned to the battle site, Ganlon had mostly gotten himself back together again. Milo found his bow in the underbrush and approached him.

"Ganlon," Milo said, the fatigue and pain evident in his voice "we can't continue on like this."

"I know," was the pained reply.

"I think we should return to the hidey-hole."

Ganlon nodded in resigned agreement.

"Before we go, could you help me with this," pointing to the bolt still lodged in his shoulder, "it's getting really uncomfortable."

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon decided quickly who he should fix first. He needed Milo far more than Milo needed him.

He ripped his own shirt and placed the poultice on the wound on his side. It was Puffball Mushrooms, Common Yarrow, Carrot, and Garlic set in bear grease and held together with linen.

It was a Tristan Martel special. Ganlon took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if it was from the sting of the poultice or the sound of his father’s name in his head.
Milo watched him with a keen eye as Ganlon bound his own wound and finally stood.

“Here let me look at that wound.” Ganlon trudged over to Milo. The bolt had gone straight through which was a good thing.

“Hey have you ever eaten worm stew with grasshopper garnish?” Ganlon stated very flatly. The question got the desired effect from Milo who looked at him with an, “are you crazy?” It was a kind of puzzled look.

“What are you…”Ganlon broke the head of the bolt off in the middle of Milo’s question. Milo didn’t scream like Ganlon thought. He sort of grinded down on his teeth and just looked at Ganlon.

“Young man, I am not a child. My control of my pain and understanding of my body is not what you are used to. Please tell me what you are going to do prior to you doing it.” Milo pushed Ganlon’s hand away from the bolt.

“Okay, your right I should have told you. I am used to people pulling away when I do that.” Ganlon gave Milo a sheepish grin. “Now I am going to pull the bolt back through the entry hole before I can close the wound.”

“Then do it.” Milo looked to go to a very peaceful place in his head. Ganlon grabbed the bolt and pulled it back through the hole. A red splash of blood fell onto the ground. Ganlon closed his eyes and looked into the back of his head. He found the doorway to the light and opened it.

The light flooded into this head. He focused it down his neck, past his shoulder, past his elbow, into his hand. He used his minds eye to look into the wound in Milo’s shoulder. Most importantly he needed to close any of the pipes of life, blood vessels, which had been severed. He let the light mingle with Milo’s body and found the torn blood vessels. He made them close.

As Ganlon moved the light back out of Milo he closed the wound from the inside out in both directions. He saw the soldiers of death that had already invade the open wound; he moved infection out of the hole as he closed it.

Ganlon let the light fade from him as he closed the door in his mind. He sat down on the ground. He was cold tired and in pain. All he wanted to do was sleep at this point. Everything he had was gone. He thought of how easy it would be to go to sleep and never wake up. How nice it would be to see his father and mother again. How all of the problems that he had right now would no longer matter. And then he saw the smiling face of Milo.

“Try and stay awake Ganlon. We need to move to a saver place.” Milo lifted the young man under his shoulders to his feet.

“I suppose that the horses would have been useful. But I can’t ride them I can always feel their pain the whole time. I really used to love riding a horse. I had a big one you know a very big horse. Father gave it to me. I was never very good at fixing the shoes…” Ganlon realized he was rambling just as Milo looked at him again.

“Can you walk?” Milo asked.

“I will do my best. We are the conquering Hero’s you know. “Ganlon sweep his hand around at the dead bodies lying on the ground. Ganlon almost fell with his flourish.

[blackdog1]

Milo had a small laugh at Ganlon's take on the situation. He could not help it, the healing not only repaired the flesh, but filled him with the vigor of life itself.

As Ganlon slowly and painfully prepared to leave, Milo secured his own gear and re-cocked the found crossbow. It was quite possible that he would be half carrying his friend back through the forest and he wanted an easy and quick weapon at hand.

The retreat back to the previous nights camp was a long and tedious slog through melting snow and slick mud punctuated by periods of thick forest bramble. Milo had to stop regularly to let Ganlon rest or drink, it was not his wound that was slowing him down, but the toll of the healing and whatever else he had done with the power of The Goddess.

Ganlon was not very talkative, and the few things he did say did not seem to be directed toward Milo. He was alternately quite or involved in some dialogue with himself or his Goddess.

There was plenty of time for Milo to think about what had happened and what was still ahead of them.

As far as their plans went, Milo was at a loss. He could only try to move them one small step at a time toward Ganlon's far reaching goals of his vision. Their unknown enemies appeared out of nowhere with the ability to control people and place them in their path, no matter how untraveled and hastily planned that path was. The best course of action that Milo could come up with in this situation would be to let their enemies come to them. It would not move Ganlon toward his goal faster, but it would give them the opportunity to learn who and what they were up against. He would present this idea to Ganlon later, after he had a chance to recover and rest.

The other point that Milo took the time to ponder was Ganlon's vulnerability. His gift to defend or heal with the blessing of his Goddess was nothing short of amazing. The irony that such a gift left him in a nearly defenseless state and had no ability to use his own gift on himself was not to be taken lightly. His enemies were too powerful and unpredictable. They would have to look into some solution to this inequality before they ventured to far out into the wilds of the world again.

A hint of wood smoke brought Milo back to the here and now, he felt a twinge of guilt for his lack of attention. He could have gotten them both killed.

Milo stopped and helped Ganlon to the ground for a short rest, placing the crossbow near his hand in case it was needed.

"Ganlon." Milo's words came out in a whisper, "I'm going to scout ahead, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Ganlon nodded at Milo but did not speak.

His color was still good and he did not seem to be with fever, just completely exhausted. Milo knew he would be asleep when he returned.

Leaving his pack and bow behind, Milo set out among the growing afternoon shadows. He made his best effort to move quick and light as he used the shadows for concealment, but at the same time he knew that he had little time to waste before the cold and dark of night set in.

He could make out their trail from the morning leading back to last nights camp and branching off of it was another smaller trail that he did not notice that morning. Following the smaller trail with his eyes, he could trace it's direction past what looked to be crops of herbs in the open spaces between the trees. On the far side of the meadow there was a dense thicket of trees and bramble. The slightest whiff of smoke was illuminated by the low angle light of evening, coming from somewhere in or around the thicket.

Milo crossed the open ground quickly and stopped in the lengthening shadows of the thicket when he heard the sounds of human activity. The unmistakable crack of fire wood being split was the dominant sound, accompanied by the low humming of a woman at her chores. Chickens and pigeons or doves could also be heard before they settled in for the night. This was not a hasty camp but rather a well hidden home.

As he entered the twilight of the close trees all of the sound abruptly stopped. Milo waited and listened, as still as he could be. Slowly and cautiously, he removed his axes from his belt and held them ready, one in each hand. Patiently and silently he made his way down the small path to the clearing in the thicket, not hearing a single sound, even as he entered the clearing.

It was like a scene out of a fairy tale. The small house was well built and maintained, though it was completely enveloped with vines and shrubs. The majority of the clearing was anything but clear. Even though dormant for the winter, it was easy to tell that it was a large and well organized garden, very neat and orderly. Even the wood pile that Milo stood near was neat and tidy. Someone took great pride in their hidden home.

"Your supposed to be dead," came the nearly screeching old hags voice.

If she had been young and spry, Milo would have been dead. Somehow concealed from his eyes until now was a small and crooked old woman, and she was awkwardly swinging a large axe at Milos head.

She was slow enough to give Milo just enough time to bring both axes up and catch her axe between them before it split his skull. He did not think Ganlon could heal that one.

She seemed surprised that her feeble attack failed, but was even more surprised when Milos boot impacted her chest and sent her flying into the wood pile.

Milo felt bad about the old woman for an instant but quickly overcame his feeling. Thinking too much was no way to survive in this world, do what you have to do and move on.

A quick and cautious search of the house and it's surroundings revealed no other people. Just the well kept and full bird pens and a house over flowing with leaves, herbs and roots of untold variety. If Ganlon had a home, Milo imagined it would look much like this one.

Before he set off to retrieve Ganlon and his things, Milo pulled the still unconscious woman from the wood pile, gently bound he hands to prevent any further surprises, and placed her in the warmth of her home.

It was not a big space, but the three of them could get cozy until Ganlon was rested and healed. And if all went well, they may be able to answer a few of the questions that they have only been guessing at.

[Ganlon Martel]

A woman’s soft hands touched his face, her face covered by a white veil. The warm smell of lavender mixed with the after touch of spearmint lingered where her hand had touched. He felt as comfortable as when he was wrapped in warm blankets. Her presence soothed his pains like a warm bath.
She moved away from him. She spoke as she moved and then he heard a song in his head.

“Little babe of mine growing like a bean on vine. Little of babe of mine brought from deep inside. Little babe of mine, a piece of me, a piece of love from the Goddess above.”

His brain struggled with time. He felt as if he was still in his today self but he knew that he was sometime else. The sometime else room was warm with a fire. There was another in the room who moved with a purpose. The woman with the veil moved around the other with lithe grace and they moved with lingering touches. Love could be felt on the very essence of everything in the room.

He was home. Herbs hung from the ceiling tied and set to dry for the winter. Bottles of precious glass held the most dangerous of herbs like mandrake on the shelf. Seeds in wicker baskets set to dry for planting in the fall or spring filled shelves built by his father’s hand. The woman with the veil must be his mother, his mother who he never knew.

The realization of the moment grabbed his brain as the scene changed rapidly. The room was filled with a fluorescent green light. The scream of his father’s name, “Tristan” verified his shock.
Ganlon watched as the veil on his Mother’s face was ripped away and replaced with a splash of red blood. He watched it again the veil was ripped away. Then he watched again and the veil was ripped away. The dream made him watch it again the veil was ripped away.

The red of the blood faded and into a red autumn day. The leaves on the trees were red. The sun in the sky was red. His father’s shirt and pants were red. He looked at his pants in the dream they were red. Ganlon was a small boy now. The ground at his mother’s grave was red. His father took his hand and held it in his. Ganlon noticed something on the grave. It was a veil. He stepped forward and grabbed the fabric. It was torn. Rent straight up the middle it was torn into to halves. His Father said in the dream, “They ripped the veil.” The he said it again, “They ripped the veil.” And the dream said it again, “They ripped the veil.”

Green light pierced the red of the day and Ganlon looked up from the fabric in his hand. He looked into the eyes of a man with a Top Hat. The man smiled at him as he looked at his father and Ganlon. The man walked away before his father had seen him. But the Man with the Top-hat had waved his hand at him and then pointed at his father.

He remembered that day. An autumn day that his father had been in a sad mood, a day that he had stopped believing in the Goddess. Ganlon remembered the Goddess’s name again: Aegle.

A vision of the Goddess’s temple returned to his mind. It was a ruin in the woods not far from his home. He saw his mother and father going there. He saw his father lift the veil from his mother’s face but could not see her face. He saw them kiss for the first time as husband and wife. He saw the door to the temple slam shut and the light from the one object in the room went out; the light from the chalice.

Ganlon awoke from the dream and looked up from the spot on the hard floor. Above him he saw lavender drying. The leaves still on the cut limbs tied and hung upside down. The familiar smell made him feel at home. The smell of the room was home. He sat up with quick thrust of his head.

He was rewarded with a sharp pain and he remembered the fight on the road. His side hurt a little less but the pain was definitely there. He pulled up his shirt and looked at the wound on his side. His lower half was wrapped in dressings that he had not put there. Milo must have fixed him up. Milo where was Milo?

Ganlon looked around the room. The room had herbs hung from the ceiling tied and set to dry for the winter. Bottles of precious glass held the most dangerous of herbs like mandrake on the shelf. Seeds in wicker baskets set to dry for planting in the fall or spring filled shelves built into the walls of the house. Strangely the room reminded him of his dream; still, no Milo. What he did see was the old woman tied to the chair.

Ganlon suddenly felt as thirsty as he could ever remember. He felt as if he could drink a river. He threw the blanket that covered him off. He stood and felt his legs underneath him. He was soaked, completely drenched with sweat. He didn’t feel feverish. He must have had a fever that was now broken.

The table in the center of the room held a wonderful surprise. Milo had taken care of him. On the table was a cup of wine which he promptly drank while looking at the rest of the table. There were two cooked birds which he took for pigeons but tasted great as he bit into the flesh of the first one. On the table finally was the most wonderful thing of all. It was written in Caraway seeds:

OUT SCOUTING WOMAN FOE NOT FRIEND.

Milo was creative if nothing else. Ganlon turned to look at the old woman. She was breathing normally, and appeared to be asleep. Ganlon turned one of the chairs next to the table around and sat down in front of the woman. He looked at her hard. For no other reason than to make sure she was real he placed a hand on her leg.

The pain he felt from this woman propelled him up and backwards from the chair. There was a darkness inside of her that was pain incarnate a loss of light that hurt him to his core. The brief memory of the pain that was in that blackness left him cold and afraid from just one touch. He shook his head for a moment and stepped back to find that the woman was looking at him
.
The Woman of the Wood, as she was known to most, Claudia Ferguson the name she had when she was young, awoke in the moment that the man touched her. She had sensed something different about him when the Half-Elf had left him in her house. She had awoken to find him there struggling to make through a fever. She watched him for awhile and then had dozed back to sleep herself, head and body hurting from where she had hit the wood pile.

She struggled with the idea that she still lived. She was sure she had fallen out of favor with those who had crossed the Veil when she had failed to kill the Half-Elf immediately. She was ready to make the journey now to the otherlife if that what was deemed appropriate but for now she knew that something had given her another chance to redeem herself.

“You’re alive too?”She looked at him from clouded white eyes and rolled her head back and forth.

”You learned to not touch me, I see. A lesser man would be rolling on the floor in pain for that.” She shifted a little bit on the chair but seemed oddly calm; seemly understanding of the situation she was in. Ganlon sat back down in the chair in front of her. He didn’t even know what he should be doing at this point. He knew Milo would know the best course of action when he returned. He turned to place the plate on the table and once again was rewarded with a pain in his side. He groaned and grimaced as he turned back towards the woman.

“Death was close for you.” The old woman smiled. Claudia’s teeth were white and clean a sign that she knew how to keep herself in good heal. The herbs in the house spoke of her knowledge of medicine and healing. Claudia could see the pain in the man’s eyes from the wound in his side.

“Death comes for you sooner than me Old Woman.”Ganlon let loose one of his famous smiles. He still didn’t know what to make of this whole situation. Where was Milo?

“Yes I am old. There was a time when I was young and STUPID like you.” She smiled back at him. Ganlon rose from his chair with the back of his hand he made to striker her. Claudia knew she had him now just push him to the point where would touch her again. While she was awake she could control the pain she inflicted.

“Old woman I could flatten you in an instant and death would not be far behind the blow.”

Ganlon’s hand remained raised but he had no intention of strike a defenseless old woman,

“Sit down boy, before you tear that scab on your wound. If your elf friend was going to kill me I would be dead already. You two are not the type to just kill people. I will sit here until it is time for you to move on. Then I will let those who come from beyond the veil know what has happened and they will finish the job. You will be dead and I will be happy.”

Claudia watched as the face of the man changed. There was something new in his eyes a connection, a recollection, a new determination.

“What did you say?” Ganlon’s synapses fired in mad sequence. The dream was now vivid in his mind she had said those who had crossed the veil. He moved his chair closer to the woman.

“I said you will be dead. A piece of meat for the carrion and I will be happy.” Yes, Claudia thought come closer. Close enough for me to touch you.

“NO, Not that. The veil, tell me about the Veil.” Ganlon needed this. It was an answer his mind needed as much as his body needed food. Talk woman, talk, it was all Ganlon could do not to reach out and throttle the old woman to make her talk.

“The Veil, huh? The Veil, old magic, very old magic. I’m tired.” Claudia sat back in her chair she closed her eyes and waited. She could see the anxiety the man had. Push and withdraw make him come to you.

“Old magic, come on you have to tell me more. Old magic from where, to do what? Come on old woman.”Ganlon stood and looked around. What could he do to make this woman talk? He couldn’t beat it out of her he didn’t have it in him to hit an old woman. Besides he would feel ever bit of the pain he inflicted.

Claudia waited and watched as the man paced the room. He looked small, short, fat even; but, there was a light about him. A shining that seemed to come from within. Limbeck had told her to watch for these two to walk the road but not to approach. He had told her that they were his to handle.

Could he have power? Could he be a Cleric? A moment of panic reached Claudia’s mind if this young fat man was a Cleric of Aegle she might be in danger. He hadn’t fallen to the floor in pain when he touched her. She was unconscious at the time and couldn’t control the pain. Still he should have been more affected.

But why the questions of the Veil. If he were a Cleric of Aegle he would know of the veil. She would know before she continued with her game.
“The veil, a piece of fabric, magic to bind one true self inside.” Claudia did not open her eyes all of the way but looked at him through the slits of her lids. The man stopped a befuddled look on his face.

Ganlon knew that the last statement was wrong some how. There was more to the veil than just the fabric. If not for just the simple reason that some one would cross over to their true selves. Ganlon thought hard. She was playing a game. He could play a game too.

“Who is Aegle?” Ganlon had never said the name out loud before and he was stunned at the power it seemed to have as the word came from his mouth. It apparently had the same sort of effect on the woman whose mouth fell open when he said it. Ganlon saw his opening and took it.

“Tell me now about what you know of the Veil.” Ganlon stood directly over the woman.

Claudia was stunned. She had heard the name of a Goddess of the Otherlife just once in her 86 years of life. Limbeck and his minion’s had never in the years that she had know him from her youth till now said it. It was a Charlotte, one of the sisters who had said it then as a word of power. The one who had married a Martel, she thought to herself.

This was not a word of power now but it still caught her off guard. The man waited and Claudia decided she would play no more.

“Cleric,” she started as she pulled against the ropes that bound her to the chair, “you know of the veil. The magic that keeps the masters of life’s energies imprisoned in the darkness of the void. Your Goddess placed them there. What game do you play with me?”

Ganlon had gotten an answer. He didn’t have a clue where to go with it. Milo where are you? No, Ganlon decided Milo wouldn’t be able to lead him in this. This was his quest. The debt that Milo felt that he owed Ganlon would have to be cleared. Ganlon must straighten that out when next he saw his Half-elven friend.
What to do now? Could he get more from this woman? Who were the Masters of Life’s energies that she spoke of? Was the Man with the Top-hat one of them? The questions raged in Ganlon’s mind and he began to pace the floor of the small house.

Claudia was worried. This was a cleric of Aegle. He had her. She was unsure of what he wanted. She quieted herself. She could still survive this meeting she had survived a meeting with a Cleric before. The Charlottes were bested by Limbeck as she watched. She would gain her reward of renewed youth. Perhaps the life energy would be pulled from this Cleric and his friend.

“Cleric is you well? Does your wound yet bother you? I am a healer as you can tell. Unbind me and I will see to it.” Claudia raised both of her bound hands in a show of surrender. She smiled.

Ganlon’s side did hurt and the more he paced the more it hurt. He wondered if he could heal it himself today. Not only if he had the strength but whether he had the ability. Milo said he had rid himself of poison with the light. Maybe he could heal himself with it now? He was just too tired to try.

“If I untie you could you show me where you keep your Yarrow, and Garlic. I need to make sure this is scabbed over.” Ganlon walked towards the woman. Claudia smiled to herself. She had him now.

“Certainly, I will help you heal Cleric. You help me and I will help you.” The last of the words rang so hollow in Ganlon’s ears that he stopped dead in his steps.

“Did the Man with the Top-hat help you? He left you here to face me and my friend when we returned. ” Ganlon waited on her reaction and received one.

Claudia hated the fact that she had let her emotions show on her face.

She regretted even more what she did next, “Limbeck will drain the life from your body and restore my youth. He and those who will cross the Veil will destroy you and all of those like you until only the chosen few remain to gain there place among the beloved of the three.” Her face became one of pure hatred, animal in nature, her lips pulled back to show her clean white teeth like fangs.

“Limbeck, finally I know the name of the one who wants to kill me. I know one of the names of the three, James, I believe it is. Am I right… woman? I don’t even know your name. I am Ganlon Martel.” Ganlon sat back down in front of the old woman. She looked old again resigned to the rest of the conversation.

Claudia knew her fate now. She had a Martel in front of her. The favorite of Aegle. A family of Clerics from far beyond memory. The child of a Martel and a Charlotte.

She resigned herself to talk no more beside one last statement,

“They called me the Woman of the Wood.”

Ganlon stood and walked away from her. He began to looking through her shelves, pulling down glass bottles and looking at the herbs. He knew that he would have to pack his pouch back up before his trip. He needed to go home. He needed to go to the ruins near his home before he went to meet Limbeck. He was sure with all of the information that the Woman of the Woods had given him her fate was already sealed. Now he just needed Milo to come back.