"Do we really have to go?" a woman asked. "Yes," Ishra said. "There is no peace, only the calm before the next storm. The army we have destroyed was only the first force to respond, probably much to the chagrin of its original commander." The woman said: "There were only a few units." Ishra sighed. "It was an army of at least three thousand. I felt their deaths." The other woman shivered. "It does not take an army to conquer a village," she said. "It was probably moving to attack Nurm," Ishra said. "Maybe they were looking for something in this area." Ishra suspected it was trying to find and bind the very evil threatening them now.

The woman looked at Ishra, who was small and lithe, little hinting at the strength and rage hidden within. "Hurry," the warrior said. "Why is it that humans distrust those different from them more than any other mortal race?" she asked. "Why does no other race cling so strongly to such short-lived traditions?" The human woman looked at Ishra, her mind overwrought from the violence of the battle and the need to leave her home. Neither question had ever occurred to her. Ishra sighed, as she saw the helplessness in the gaze of the other. She decided to ask someone else.

Lonewolf learned that the villagers did not trust her either. She had used strange and magical abilities far beyond the ken of normal people. While magic was common enough in the world, few actually saw it practiced more than once or twice in their lives. Most people were only subject to healing magic, when the skill of using herbs and tending wounds no longer sufficed, but Lonewolf could call strange creatures with a thought, or cast killing magic. She was fierce and brutal as a fighter. The young mage was dangerous in an unfathomable way.

Braktus simply moved too silently for a man that large, reminding people he could stand behind them unnoticed, as he had behind their enemies. The villagers had believed his steps to be hidden by the noise of battle, but even now he was neigh inaudible. There was little trust in Nirahr, in spite of his easygoing manner. He did not understand why and no-one told him. He had neither the magic of his wife, nor the violent strength of Ishra.

Even Nirahr, who was perhaps the weakest of the four, had charged into the middle of an enemy unit and killed many hobgoblins easily. No-one else in the village, except perhaps Dak'Yzal, would ever consider such a course of action, knowing it to be suicidal. Secretly many placed the blame for the attacks on the four, but they did not speak their suspicions aloud. Adventurers were infamous for their outlandish tales and dirty looks, but few were opposed to partake of the riches they carried, often coins of mints unknown and jewels cut in alien ways. The village had perished, if not for the power of the four.

Not all of the bard's songs were mere fancy and most legends contained a hint of truth, if one had the wisdom to see. The war had come even without the presence of the adventurers. The army had been deployed from the land of Arghia, a land of broken earth turned into a wasteland by its reckless lords, through a gate focused on a ley cross-roads in Bronan, ever a land of dubious reputation. They had marched along the fringes of the Emanastaria Desert, rumoured to hold a fabulous palace of indestructible crystal, were they were attacked by the strange insect people making their home in that land.

The army's path had continued through the mostly forsaken lands of Jundar, which the famous airborne riders could not hold against the irrupting monsters. Valour remained, however, leading the griffon riders to attack the supply train of the force, hoping to weaken it. Maybe the army of Norm or Coreanus would then be able to destroy them more easily. Actually the force had not been sent to conquer, but to find traces of ancient evil in a dangerous land. The lord had hoped to find power to give him a clear advantage in the constant infighting of the lords of Arghia. The evil had found the army first and forced it into its service instead.

Only when Roland and Dak'Yzal finished their work in the kitchen of the inn and joined the other four, the last villagers left their houses and made ready for the road. Lonewolf looked at the long trek with its carts and heavily encumbered villagers. "Many will come to regret their choice," she said. Slowly the caravan wormed its way out of the village, the last stragglers passing the outermost farm after one hour had passed. The four adventurers were moving up and down the column, helping the stragglers and scouting for danger, but the temporary peace lasted for the time being.

Braktus moved to were Roland was walking. "We have to move faster," he said. "We have to be out of the unholy aura radiating from the centre of the village before nightfall. All who are still within at that time will be lost." Dak'Yzal said: "You can feel it too. Roland maintains the people are too tired to go more quickly." The old officer nodded sadly. "There is nothing I can do." Braktus locked his gaze and said: "You are responsible for them. Take your eyes off the woman and sent her to scout for the border. Once we know were it is, we can make plans." He left.

Removed from the centre of the village, Dak'Yzal seemed a bit younger and more vigorous than before. "I will go," she said. "I am too old for you anyway," Roland said. He was not entirely serious. The woman smiled to herself and moved quickly along the column. The villagers were essentially moving at a crawl. Dak'Yzal lightly covered the distance with the long and steady step she had learned long ago. The village was on a large steppe, which was dominated by high grass and warm winds, interrupted each year by a cold winter.

Dak'Yzal found a break in the landscape, which should not be there. The precipice was only a foot high, but it was a serious obstacle for the carts and wagons. Where the rock wall met the ground of the plains beyond, there were many cracks and crevices, small but seemingly bottomless. The land covered by the unholy aura radiating from the village was slightly tilted and seemed generally a bit out of sync with the reality beyond. Finally it dawned on Dak'Yzal, what kind of power she was actually dealing with. They were in greater danger than she had anticipated.

Dak'Yzal sped back over the strangely distorted landscape, which felt even more alien, after she had seen the clear sky and bright green sward outside. The land within the aura was strangely dulled and seemed a bit blurred. She met the villagers sooner then she had expected. A huge elephant was walking behind them, a rider in a blue robe sitting in its saddle, which bulged with cargo. Dak'Yzal looked at the faces, which all showed fear and determination.

When she had been in the Empire of the cat-like Rak'ra, elephants were a common sight. They prospered in warm areas and vast savannahs. They were mostly unknown in this northern land, however. It had to look quite fearsome through its size, the spikes and the martial war saddle strapped on its back. Perhaps Lonewolf had also found stronger words to convince the villagers of the danger behind. Dak'Yzal rejoined Roland for a time.

Braktus, Ishra and Nirahr spend the rest of the day walking along the trek, helping those who stumbled or lagged. Slowly and laboriously they made their way to the crack in the landscape. The sight of the clear vernal land beyond energised the tired villagers one more time, but as Dak'Yzal had anticipated, getting the carts and wagons over the crack was difficult. The sun was already falling in the west, when they had finally left the cursed area. Lonewolf, who had dismounted and helped the others, drove the trek for another hour, before she allowed them to rest.

"The journey is not going to become easier," Lonewolf said. Most of the villagers had just slumped to the ground, trying to find sleep were they were. Roland managed to turn them at least into the semblance of a camp, before they finally collapsed from exhaustion. "The wearying effect of the blasphemous magic is gone, but we are in the open wilderness now," Lonewolf said. Dak'Yzal nodded grimly. She had been an adventurer herself and knew the dangers of the wild all too well. The older woman looked at the stars. "We made more miles than I thought," she said.

"We cannot maintain this speed," Lonewolf said. "The weariness of the battle, the long flight and their heavy burdens will slow us down. Not to talk of the sense of loss, now that their homes lie behind them within the area of that evil magic. Why are there neither children, nor older people, except for Roland and you? I had the feeling that there was something wrong with the village from the day I moved in, but something dulled my senses." Dak'Yzal only nodded.

"I suspect that many will travel more lightly tomorrow. How long can you keep the elephant around?" she asked. "Indefinitely," Lonewolf said. "I am not very good at planning. You will have to ask Roland, Braktus or Nirahr for that." Dak'Yzal said: "I always thought your husband is a fool." Lonewolf laughed. "Indeed, but he is an intelligent fool," she said. Sadly she looked into the direction, where he was sleeping. She knew the burning sinister passion within his soul. One day he would loose control again and she would have to kill him. The young mage sighed.

---

Morning dawned. The first of the villagers stirred, but only the hardy adventurers, Dak'Yzal and Roland were fully awake. A globe of smoky air surrounded the area they had left before. It appeared almost like a black wall between the healthy land and the area occupied by the villain. The precipice had become unsurmountable. "The barrier will disappear in a few days," Lonewolf said. "Reality itself creates a shield to protect itself, but the entity within will realign the land within a few days. The barrier will disappear, but the borders of its influence will be harder to see. I hope the villagers are far away then."

Several hours passed until all were ready to march again. Even the mighty elephant seemed strangely weary. Danger would not be far away. A group of creatures, as large as the elephant, but of more dangerous breed moved towards the caravan. They had thick legs with clawed feet, an back armourd with bone plates and a large maw, able to open almost as far as that of a snake. Hungry eyes stared at the feast ahead. Lonewolf sighed and concentrated on her magic.

Outside the twisted area, the mana came instantly, as she had expected. Suddenly the villagers found themselves in an unreal land, colours strangely dimmed and all outlines soft and uncertain. It was as though they were the only real pieces within a three-dimensionsal watercolour painting. Several shadows passed through the group, their shapes strangely resembling the creatures they had seen. Fear spread through the ranks. It seemed the strange feeling of unreality, which had bothered them for the first part of the journey had returned.

"This is my magic," Lonewolf called out. "It protects us from the dangers of the wild. None of you have the strength to survive a determined attack by monsters or ravenous beasts." Dak'Yzal, who had anticipated the young mage's move, walked among the villagers, reassuring them everything was in order. She was not entirely successful. While it was neigh impossible to make out land marks in this strange unreal place, she was quite sure, the trek was moving with great speed.

Within an area of ghostly tents they stopped. A blue ribbon nearby suggested a river. "I dare not cross the water here," Lonewolf said. Braktus nodded. "I think we should be prepared to meet people here," she said. Slowly the magic unraveled and the world solidified. They were indeed close to the ford leading across the river. The tired villagers had to realise, that they were in the middle of an armed camp, except for the elephant beyond the palisade. Surprisingly enough everyone materialised within an open space by some miracle of the magic Lonewolf had used.

Roland quickly found the commander and explained the situation. "Our scouts just returned and reported the army has been reduced to ash. Did you have something to with it?" he said. "No," Lonewolf said. "There was a battle in the village to the east, but the destruction of the army was the work of the Iron Doom. Those people are weary beyond physical exhaustion, having seen their familiar world destroyed within a day. They need save passage to an area, were they can stay for the time being. I seek to destroy the evil behind this."

A single gaze at the young mage's fierce smouldering eyes was enough to convince the commander. "Some may want to move into Nurm permanently," she said. "I hope they will be welcome." The commander said: "They will be. Many tenements in the towns near the river stand empty. We can still hold our land, but it is becoming more difficult with each passing year. Now the Village of the Temple has become a stronghold of evil, making our situation even more difficult. Many forces are engaged in the south, fighting trolls descended from the mountains. It seems they receive help from a fierce people living in the mountains."

"We do not like trolls," Lonewolf said. "I have need of great speed now." She left and quickly found Dak'Yzal. "Our ways part here," she said without preamble. "I will run across the plains and seek the shortest way over the mountains. I think the other three will follow me. Shepherding villagers is not something they enjoy. Watch the people and the old man for me." Dak'Yzal nodded. After she was sure the older woman had understood, Lonewolf left. Someone had to stop the evil in the Village from spreading.

Most people thinking along those lines looked for someone else to do so. The young mage took the quest and burden on her own shoulders without question. She had only travelled with them so far, because they went into the same direction. Would Lonewolf have sacrificed the villagers to keep the rest of the world save? The woman suspected she knew the answer. There was a single-minded determination in the young barbarian, which none of the others came close to, except perhaps Braktus.