Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Clad in new clothes, crafted by the skilled hands of Charel, Crissa sat near the door to their tiny room, watching people walking up and down the busy streets. She rarely saw the morning crowd of folk, and was fascinated by the sheer numbers of them. "What do they do so early in the day?" she asked. Normally, she would be fixing breakfast for Wenn, Marrat, and herself at this hour, not walking the streets. "They go to market," said Kennet, sitting up on the bed and eyeing his tailored tunic with a critical look. "Most of the peasants like to get their selling and buying done before lunch." "Peasants?" asked Crissa, giving him a wide smile. "Are we so far above them, then?" "No," replied Kennet, his voice muffled by the tunic as he slipped it on, "I'm a peasant, too." She giggled at him and averted her eyes as he climbed out of bed and pulled the pants on. Normally, she would never have done that, but he seemed to need her to look away. She could feel his embarrassment radiating from him like heat. "I've already seen you naked, as we tended your wounds, you know?" she asked. "It's not the same," he grunted, pulling the belt tight. "I'm whole and hearty, now. You may be the same person who saw me, but I'm not the same person you saw." She turned, sensing he was now safe. "Too bad, he was rather attractive and I had half a mind to comfort him more closely," she teased. "You would have probably been disappointed," he said. "I'm not an experienced lover." Crissa's eyes grew distant. "There are experienced folk who are poor lovers and there are skilled novices," she said. "More important is your desire for the person you're with." Peris came walking up the cobbled street, grinning and holding a small wicker basket with a hand towel covering it. "Breakfast," she said with a pleased expression. She was now clad in a somewhat more modest short summer dress of bright blue, rather than the elven outfit from the night before. Charel had been generous with clothes, giving each two full sets, all very well made and quite fashionable. "Just because we are on the run doesn't mean we need to look like vagrants," said Peris as she unloaded the burlap sack earlier that morning. "At least that's what Charel said." She had looked at Crissa. "You must have impressed him mightily to be given such on your name alone." Crissa had blushed deep red and whispered to Peris, "I wore less than my name last time Charel saw me." News was upon the streets of a daring raid into the asylum and the disappearance of one of the prosecution's witnesses in the wee hours of the night. Guards killed and poor inmates, delusional fools, as well, dispatched in their very cells by the hoodlums. Most just shook their heads and lamented the waning of the elder days when wizards and their ilk had to keep their arts secretive. Crissa's own disappearance was also noted, and some thought she had been kidnaped by the same evildoers. However, there were some who thought she might well be the one who had put others up to the raid, which was, by noon, said to have contained no fewer than ten well-armed men. "All this fuss over me?" asked Kennet, still looking rather pale from the initial delivery of gossip. "I should turn myself in immediately." "You'll do no such thing," hissed Crissa, standing from her perch on the little dresser near the door. "They'll kill you this time, rather than muck about with you and risk losing you again." Kennet blinked at her, and the sudden burst of anger he palpably sensed come from her. "Kill me?" he asked. "Have you already forgotten the gentle treatment at the asylum?" said Crissa. "Did you think it therapeutic to beat you daily?" "They were trying to make me see the truth," he explained, reasonably. "They were trying to force your mind to manufacture a new truth, out of terror," she said, walking right up to the young man, who was two or three inches shorter than her. "They very nearly succeeded. Luckily, Thenaldis told us what you told her, or their false truth would already be taking root in your mind again." His eyes grew wistful and Kennet smiled. "Do you think I shall see her again?" he asked. "Thenaldis, that is." "Yes," said Crissa, almost too quickly. "I'm sure you will." She knew, before the trial, she would have to bolster his courage, and Thenaldis would serve that purpose nicely. Peris smiled as she unpacked the breakfast, some bread rolls and butter, as well as dried beef and cheap wine. "Thenaldis said she needed to check up on you, to make sure your healing took," she said over her shoulder. "I wish I could remember her features better," said Kennet. "She's almost like a dream now." "Most elven conversations are like that," said Crissa, nodding. She had no idea of what she spoke, having never met an elf herself. "What do we do this day, then?" asked Kennet. "Find a better hiding place," said Crissa and Peris, almost in unison. "Well, if the rumors be true, we only need still fear those `eye' people," said Peris. "Except Kennet, of course. So far as anyone knows, we're still not guilty of anything." "That would change quickly if Kennet is found in our company," said Crissa. "Speaking of that," said Peris, "how will he testify the real truth, if he's with us?" "He's going to turn himself in at the last minute before the trial, directly to the courthouse," said Crissa. "I am?" asked Kennet. "Yes," she said. "That way you can testify and they won't have time to kill you, beforehand." "Beforehand?" asked Kennet. "But plenty of time to do so afterward." "Afterward, there will be no one free to kill you, they'll all be in prison, or dangling from the gibbet, themselves." -- Terena, now wearing the guise of a young merchant's daughter in a long sheer gown, walked the streets and used her wiles to ask questions of many, regarding an old friend of hers from Morrovale. By noon, she had found out that Crissa had disappeared, not seen since yesterday, much to Marrat's chagrin. She forced herself into seedier quarters of the town, visiting shady dives that one could find, if one knew where to look. There, her looks alone would not win her information, but she had a currency that few in such places would refuse. "Yeah, I saw her," said the dumpy innkeeper of a truly ramshackle establishment. "But I don't rightly know where she might have been going, my memory has been slipping of late, so distracted by pretty women and all." For the third time that morning, she performed a favor for someone to parse some tidbit of near useless information from them. The first two would never be demanding such a price of a woman for mere knowledge again, assuming they recovered enough of their wits to speak at all. This man, however, repaid her efforts with something of use. "They stayed here last night, but I only had dealings with the brown-haired girl," he said as she sipped the sour wine he provided her. It was stale and somewhat vinegary, but erased the taste of his seed. "However, she slipped off almost immediately, and I went to look and see what was about. When I peered into her room, there were two people out cold on the bed, a tall blond woman and a smallish, curly-haired man." "You knew they were out cold and not sleeping?" asked Terena, looking toward him and wondering if he would demand more payment before coming to the end of his tale. "Well, I was just minding my own safety, and my business'," he said, as if explaining himself to her was necessary. But I crept in and tried to wake them." She decided he more likely wanted to take a peek at the blond, but surely that was Crissa. "Was your business' safety resolved by looking at the tall one's body?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glance. He blushed a bit, but kept talking. "She was tall, all right," he said. "Tallest girl I've ever seen, or one of them. Both of them had taken a pretty good thumping, though, and the boy's breath was rattly." "Then what happened?" she asked. "The little brown-haired girl came back with a older gentleman in tow," he said. He went into the room and spent a long while in there, then she and he left again. I went back but heard someone moving about inside and didn't go in." She looked at him fully. "So quickly?" she said. "You said they were hurt badly and unconscious." "Yes," said the fat inkeeper. "They were up and gone the next morn, this morning, just an hour or two ago." "May I see their room?" she asked. "I assume you've not cleaned it yet." She figured he only cleaned them when absolutely needed. She saw a flash in the inkeeper's eyes as she asked this and sighed inwardly. "We could always inspect the bed while we are there," she added, pouring syrup and honey into her voice. He walked her down to the room and opened the door. The bed was disheveled, but would have been anyway, soon afterward. Despite his prodigious belly and rather soft look, he was a rather aggressive lover and made good use of his tumble with her. And she made even more use of him. Terena sighed as the sleeping inkeeper dozed beside her and she rose from the bed. "Not bad," she said with a lascivious smile. There was a glow of health about her and she radiated energy. If anything, the innkeep looked five years older than he had. Using a half empty pitcher of water and a corner of the coverlet, she cleaned herself up and then dressed. She examined the room, and soon found a elven-style skirt under the bed. She lifted it and examined it. "It looks like something the whore would wear," she said. Her own promiscuity, in the name of the One and the service of a Templar, was another matter, and not the same as simply bedding men. There was blood on the sheets, as well, where someone had lain. They looked to be the result of many small wounds, and the pillow on the other side of the bed had blood upon it. "You two were hurt badly," she said. "That man must have been a healer." The innkeep stirred and she reached out her mind and sent him deeper into slumber. "Not just yet, my good man," she said. A silver dagger flashed in the dim room, darkening with the waning light of the day. She turned a circle, dribbling her blood onto the floor and forming a spotted ring about herself, at arm's length. As soon as the circle was complete, the wound closed and she slid the dagger back into her sheath upon her thigh. Terena began to chant and turn in the circle, spinning in place. For long moments she did this, her chanting growing louder and more insistent. She could feel her mind expanding, first taking in the innkeeper and his slumbering thoughts, then stretching out farther. A minute later, she had the entire village in her mind, or a sense of it, and she stopped, feeling the thousands of myriad minds out there, cluttered, heretical, mundane and boring. A few interesting thought spiked out of the throng: People in the middle of rutting, or committing violent or abusive acts, or a hundred other sins. She could not single out a single mind yet. Her hand took up the dagger again and slit, once again, her wrist and blood poured onto the elven skirt. Even as the wound healed itself, she felt her mind focusing and tightening its area. She had one mind now to feel, northward, and slightly frightened. It was not the sorceress, though, but another girl. Peris. She closed her eyes and saw Crissa standing nearby, felt some lust well inside her for the tall blond. Peris wanted her, and knew she could not have her. This just made the desire more taboo and exciting for Peris, or so Terena thought. They were walking down a street. Peris turned again to the sound of a male voice and she was now looking at a young man with curly hair. They turned a corner and walked into a house. Terena felt it and where it lay. She could now find it again. Burning that into her mind, she watched some more. The tall blond girl, Crissa, turned to face Peris again and smiled for a half a moment, then frowned, staring at her. A sudden interest came upon the Terena as she looked into those large, blue eyes. She felt almost as if she were being seen. "So you're not such a novice as I was led to be. . ." she was interrupted by a massive surge of energy, coming through Peris and from Crissa. She felt her body twitch and she was flung from the circle by a force like a physical blow, like she had been punched in the chest. She slammed against the wall, rocking the entire little bungalow and the pitcher of water over. -- "Why did you hit me?" asked Peris, looking at Crissa with betrayed eyes. Crissa looked at her hard, her eyes like ice. "Your eyes changed color," she said. "Someone was there, not you." "I was right here, and that hurt," said Peris, rubbing her chest, dead center, where Crissa had just punched her, hard enough to knock her down and against the wall of the tenement hall. The tall blond helped her to her feet while Kennet looked on with an expression of confusion. "Does it hurt still?" she asked. Peris seemed to think a moment. "No," she said, "now that you mention it, it stopped hurting." "Yes," said Crissa, "because it just passed through you." -- Terena lifted herself from the floor and unbuttoned her dress to her navel. She looked down and touched herself between her round, firm breasts. She felt a rib shift and pain lanced through her. "Much more powerful than I thought," she said, concentrating her will and mending the broken rib and erasing the spreading blue blemish of the bruise. Much of the glow of vitality had left her, expended in the rituals and spells she had woven. She heard the innkeeper stirring again. A wicked grin came to her round face and she took off her dress again, and crawled into the bed. He blinked up at her and smiled feebly. "Sorry, I must have fallen asleep," he said. "It's okay," she purred into his neck, grabbing his flaccid organ in her slim fingers. "But I wish another, if you'd like." He put his pudgy arms about her and pulled her to himself for a kiss. His rod was stiffening in her hand and she straddled his waist. A moment later, she was impaled upon his cock and riding him hard, bouncing up and down on him and kneading his chest with her fingers and long nails. He passed out again as he spent himself into her and she climaxed as the wash of energy filled her. She drank deeper of him this time, knowing she would need more to face this other sorceress. Terena stood, wiping his spend from her thighs where is slid out of her and then giving the pudgy man a kiss on the cheek. "There you go, sir," she said. He would not awaken for at least a day and most of his brown hair had gone gray. Terena nearly glowed as she walked onto the darkened street, still buttoning her dress' top two buttons and walked north. -- Peris looked about the dark apartment and peered into the farther corners of it. "You're sure we're safe here?" she asked. Crissa shrugged. "Not anymore, no," she replied. "I don't know who was peering through your eyes, but your mind changed suddenly on me, then back, when I hit you." "I told you that you hit me," said Peris with mock petulance. "How did you know it wasn't me?" The tall witch looked down at her and gave her a very soft smile. "You were thinking lustful thoughts at me again, and it stopped, suddenly," she replied. Peris blushed and looked toward Kennet, who was busy examining the view out the narrow windows. She was relieved he had not heard. No doubt, Crissa would not have said such had he been closer. "What is this place anyway?" asked Peris, hoping to change the subject. "It is a friend's apartment," said Crissa, pronouncing friend in such a way as to make it a topic of non-discussion. "He lives with a woman right now, but didn't wish to give up this apartment, should he need it." Kennet turned about. "I live only three blocks from here," he said. "And you need to not go there," said Crissa sharply. "They'll be watching for you there. Of us, you're the only one the watch is hot for." Kennet nodded abjectly. "I could use some reading material, though," he said. "I'm bored, frankly." Crissa walked up behind him. "I'll try to get something from Marrat's home while I visit with the barrister," she said. "You like elves, I hear." "I love elves," he said. Once again, his eyes took on that distant stare. "I'm sure I'll find something," she said. "Marrat has a large library." The sorceress walked into the other room and came back with a long knife. It was a kitchen knife, not a fighting blade. "Here, for your protection," she said, handing it to Kennet. "Or in case young Miss Peris tries to ravish you." The young man chuckled and took the knife. "Like I'd try to stop her," he said. Peris blinked at that, wondering where such a flirtatious remark had come from. She had spoken to Kennet a handful of times at the academy, and never had noticed any interest from him toward her. Crissa gave a soft smile and walked to the door. "Be cautious, you two," she said. "Be listening, I'll whistle as I walk up the stairs." They both nodded as she left. The apartment was furnished in a minimalist fashion, as if the owner had taken all his small belongings with him, but had not the time to take the actual furniture. Peris threw herself onto the long, low couch and regarded Kennet as she sighed at a fatigue that came over her. "Why are you so fascinated by elven folk?" asked Peris. "Not that they're not interesting, mind you, but in general." Kennet walked over and sat opposite her in a big, padded chair. "I've always though elves were terribly interesting," he said. "Even before the goings on down in Morrovale, I studied them." She grinned at him and his suddenly glittering eyes. "I imagine you like the new fashion of things elven, then?" "Oh, yes," he said. "Quite aside from the far more - well - interesting appearance of young women like yourself and Miss Crissa in elven garments, just to know more people are studying them and learning of their ways and manners. I mean, there will be dozens of books written on them now, and more for me to study." His massive speech, very out of character for the normally introverted Kennet, took her by surprise. "Why do you not go to them?" she asked. "Go to the elves?" he asked in reply. "Just like that?" "Sure," she said, reasonably. "They're just people. If they knew how much you knew of them and how much you wanted to know more, and most importantly, how much you loved them, they would surely let you come visit." His face fell. "I fear their refusal," he said. "It would hurt, wouldn't it?" asked Peris. "More than death," replied Kennet. She rose from the couch and sat on the arm of the padded chair, stroking his shoulder. "I don't think they would refuse you," she said. "I think they would welcome you as an elf-friend." He blushed slightly at both the compliment and at her sudden proximity to him. "I would like to think so, too," he said in a tone that told her that he would not find out any time soon. -- Moving like a flesh-toned cat, the beast prowled the streets. Sniffing at the ground and air. It would stop when people moved about and peer cautiously from shadows of alleys and leap to rooftops, padding across the tiles. Blood dripped from his jaws as he drooled and sought. Mystically, it knew its target, and sniffed the air for her. This creature was no longer the young man whose meat had become its body. It was a demon, a spirit of the underworld, called forth by the ceremony to inhabit this flesh. Carsten's soul had been forced out, slaying him. Where he wound up, no one truly cared. That which took up abode was a vile spirit of malice and cruel intent. The creature had but one intent: Lust. It desired to sate that lust upon the soft flesh of the girl who wore his scent. It would obey her to do so. She had commanded him, a simple command, so far as those went, and when he had completed his duty, he could have her. That was the way of the bargain, one task, then pay the price. The girl would pay the price with her body and life. He would ravage one, then take the other. A bright light flared in his nostrils as he scented the target. Crissa, she had been this way, and recently. He loped off in pursuit of that scent. Perhaps he could ravage her a while, he thought. He needed to keep her alive, and he knew that, but he could make use of her, could he not? He could even kill the other target, Peris. Use her, then kill her. -- Crissa watched Marrat's home for many minutes, paying close attention to the shadows across the street. A shape moved about in the alley two doors down. Just a subtle shifting in the darkness. Enough. She reached out with her mind and found the hard, cruel mind of one of the young `wolfling' noblemen. He was bored, and upset, probably at being put on such a seemingly unimportant task. She sent him into slumber with a thought. A soft thud was the reward to her ears. A few more minutes passed as she found and knocked out another watcher, leaving him behind some barrels and walking across the street. She entered through the kitchen to hear Marrat's voice from the study. ". . .strange events, they truly are, Anasper," he was saying. A deeper, very cultured voice replied to Marrat's rather broken, old voice. "Indeed, and I trust you've maintained at least the appearance of impartiality?" "Of course, milord," replied her mentor. "I know well the laws." Crissa slinked toward the study door, down its short hall. "Hence sending for me as a barrister for your apprentice?" asked the deeper voice. "Exactly, milord," said Marrat, sounding pleased with himself as he hefted two snifters of brandy and handed one to Lord Duke Anasper of Morrovale. The young duke took the goblet and sniffed at the quality brandy within experimentally, before taking a long, relishing sip. "Crystern?" asked the nobleman. "The duke has a good nose," agreed Marrat. "And those islanders brew excellent brandy," said Anasper, taking another sip. "However," he started a moment later, "I doubt very seriously that you called me here to show off a new bottle of brandy." His expression was one of curiosity, tinged with worry. "It's my apprentice, the boy from Morrovale," said Marrat. Anasper sat slightly more upright and sat down his brandy snifter. "Wenn?" he asked. Marrat had to remind himself to not be surprised when Anasper remembered a person or event, he seemed to have a knack for such remembering. It was a skill that served a young and progressive-thinking nobleman well. "Yes, milord," agreed Marrat. "He has been charged with murder, and he needs a barrister." "You could have asked by letter for a reference," said Anasper, his expression turning a bit more worried and less curious. His eyes wandered over Marrat's shoulder and onto a bookshelf behind the old wizard. "You know damn well I didn't ask you here for a reference, impudent duke," said Marrat, his face tinting pink. Anasper chuckled deeply and picked up his snifter. "As a mage, you will be trying the case, I assume?" he asked. "Yes, milord," said Marrat, again remembering his normal place. He had known Anasper since birth and was one of a handful of people in the duchy who could talk to the nobleman as he had. "You want me to represent him?" the noble asked, voicing the obvious question. "Yes, milord," agreed Marrat again. "I would be delighted, but why?" "I need a barrister who knows the laws of the duchy well," said Marrat. Anasper chuckled again, and emptied his snifter. "Well, that I do, I suppose," he said. Crissa walked into the chamber at that time, openly looking down at the duke. "Milord?" she asked, bowing low and staying bowed. "Please, Crissa is it?" asked Anasper, "enough formality for a private moment." She rose again and he appraised her long form. "She is a tall young lady, isn't she?" he asked Marrat. "You know of me?" asked Crissa. Marrat laughed. "The duke makes it a point to know of wizards and witches in his lands," he said. "You tell him about us?" asked the young sorceress, turning toward Marrat with more than a little accusation in her big blue eyes. "It's part of my job, dear," said Marrat, refilling Anasper's snifter and also filling a third. "I am not just a wizard. I am the ranking wizard in the duchy." "That he is," said the nobleman, still gazing upon Crissa. "We correspond regularly. But do not think it spying or such, but rather think of it as two friends telling one another of their lives." She cast a dubious glance at the duke, then another at Marrat. "He is to be Wenn's counsel?" "Yes, dear," replied the wizard. "Thank you milord," she said, picking up the third glass and sipping the brandy. "Crissa, where have you been?" asked Marrat, finally. She sniffed as the brandy cleared her sinuses. "Hiding," she said. "Whatever for, you're not charged with anything," said Marrat. Crissa raised one eyebrow at him, then at Anasper. "He is Wenn's counsel," said Marrat, "and I am not wearing the robes of judge just now, you can speak freely." She sighed, relieved to finally speak openly. "Peris and I have been looking into things, and finding out what evidence is held against Wenn." "Very good," said Marrat and the duke nodded alongside him. "But why the secrecy?" "We've had to resort to some rather - unstandard means to attain some of the evidence and knowledge," said Crissa. "I'll not ask," said Marrat, holding up a hand when Anasper leaned forward to ask a question. "You know something of the raid on the asylum, then?" "We know of it, of course," said Crissa, her ears turning red at the understatement. Crissa had never been much of a liar, and to lie to Marrat was harder still. "I am going to do some studies on the laws," said Marrat, rising and draining his brandy. "You two may speak more freely as counsel and client." He moved out of the room, his blue robes rustling as he closed the door behind him. "Tell me everything," said Anasper as the door clicked home. His face had suddenly grown stern but not upset. He was just down to business now. "Wenn is innocent," she said. "The nobles have some sort of cult and they slew the victim." "How do you know this?" he asked. "We have the witness," said Crissa, looking away. Anasper blinked a moment, and took another sip of brandy. "You?" he asked. "I had heard it was a full squad of soldiery that broke in there." "Wrong, two girls," she said, smiling. "Granted one is a sorceress." Anasper chuckled and shook his head. "I will expect a full telling of this tale eventually, it sounds quite entertaining," he said. "However, in the meantime, you must keep that witness aside and hidden." "We intend to," she agreed. "You aren't wroth?" "I would be, were I the duke right now," he said. "But, at this moment, I am your counsel, and Wenn's, not the Duke of Morrovale." She sighed with further relief, expecting to have been punished for her acts so far, but also knowing such punishment would be less than Wenn was likely to receive. "You should go back to wherever you have stashed him and keep watch," said Anasper. "Do not even tell me where he is. I will go speak to Wenn in the morning, and meet me here at midday." "Yes, milord," she said hastily. "Counsel," he interrupted. "When we are on this business, I am to be addressed as counsel." "Yes, counsel." she agreed with a smile, meanwhile, she was rifling one of the bookshelves, peering at the writing upon their thick leather bindings. Anasper watched Crissa for a long moment before saying, "I understood your learning of the arts was not based upon formal education." "It's not, counsel," said the tall sorceress after a long pause. "I seek a book on elven folk." The duke raised one thin eyebrow at her as she walked from that bookshelf to another, peering high and low for something with either elven writing or regarding elves. "I must say," he said, "I've noted a explosion of fascination for elven things since the coming of the Lady Hyandai." Crissa nodded. "This infatuation that I seek to sate started long before her arrival, I think," she said. "The witness is very keen on elven things and people." "Is he, then?" asked the duke, taking a sudden interest in the young man. "Does he know much already?" "He speaks the language, from what I can tell," replied Crissa, pulling a large, thick tome from the shelf and opening it to peer at the pages. Anasper hmm'ed to himself quietly as she carried that book from the shelves and carried it from the room. "I must be going, the watchers will be coming to soon." "Coming to?" asked Anasper, again lifting his eyebrow. A embarrassed smile came to Crissa's features. "I had to keep them from watching me come and go." "I see," said the duke, nodding sagely. With that, she was gone, moving down the hallway with long, ground-eating strides. She ran up the stairs to the turret room three at a time and rifled her own room for things. A few moments later, she emerged with the book stuffed into a bag, along with some other few items. The duke opened the door for her and smiled as she went through. "See you on the morrow," he said as she gave him a curt nod. Terena turned the corner and watched as Crissa approached the tenement. "Hello, my sweet," whispered the witch, ducking back into the shadows of a doorway as Crissa took a brief look up and down the street before stepping into the stairwell. With a quick chant, a few murmured words, Terena's shape shimmered, then faded to nothing. A faint shimmer moved across the street, causing lamplight on the streets to flicker as she moved past, like heat waves. She slipped into the building and up to the first landing. She touched the door and felt for people beyond it, sensing only one old man. Moving across the hall, she felt a family with children, and a large dog. She moved to the second story and used her arcane abilities to feel of that door, sensing two young women and a young man, she smiled. They were not near the door, and the stairwell was dark, just as the apartment was. She gently thumbed the latch and it clicked with a tiny sound. Just as she pushed the door shut, she watched the tall blond pull a illumination stone from a sack, filling the little common room with light. There were the other two, as described, as well. The smaller girl, the brunette, would be an easy target, and the young man, perhaps easier still. However, the other sorceress had already proven she was not without power of her own, and was also physically imposing. How would the young sorceress deal with an invisible foe? That question still ran through the mind of the witch even as one of the windows exploded inward, showering the room with shards of glass and wooden splinters from the latticework of frames that held in the small panes. The three were still in mid start as the beast bounded off the inside wall of the room, blood splattering the white painted surface. It was headed straight for Peris. Kennet was still stunned by the sudden hailstorm of glass fragments that rained over him, and was only just now turning to face the motion deeper in the room. Crissa had thrown up her arms automatically, and the light stone fell to the floor, casting odd shadows throughout the room. The creature was halfway across the room when it stopped dead, skidding across the hardwood floor with a horrible tearing sound. Long grooves scored the surface, where its claws had dug into the wood. He turned to regard Crissa, his eyes narrowing and a low rumble in its throat. The tall sorceress locked eyes with the horrible creature, moving to her knees even as Peris and Kennet shied back and put the couch between them and the large cat-like thing. "It's okay," said Crissa, "I have his mind." Her forehead was furrowed, though, and sweat ran down her brows. "It's resisting me, though, strongly." Otherworldly images rocketed around her thoughts, horrid torments, and terrible agonies. "The things it wishes to do. . ." she said, her face contorting in fright. Terena raised her invisible eyebrows at this turn of events and she settled back against the wall to watch them unfold, deciding she could make her move if and when convenient. The creature growled at Crissa in a lower register and her expression became even more worried and afraid. She fell forward onto her hands and then pressed her chest to the floor. The creature moved behind her splayed knees, sniffing at her like a dog. "I can't stop," she said quietly, her eyes turning up toward Peris and Kennet. "His mind is too determined and strong." Peris gasped as she watched the long, fat organ slide from a protective sheath between its hind legs. "One save us," she murmured. Crissa thought furiously, trying to find a way around the control it had established over her through their mental link. She had made it love her, but its love was terrible. It loved her, in its fashion, and now it would have her. Already, it ravished her in her mind, ripping her back with its talons even as it drove the obscene organ into her. She winced and tears ran from her eyes as she reached down and began to pull her dress up. She screamed at herself to stop, to not give herself to him. His hot breath washed over her entrance as she revealed it to him and he snuffled there, burrowing with his nose. Her blue eyes craned downward and she gasped even as Peris had at the size and horrid shape of its huge phallus. With another growl, and another flash of terrible imagery from his corrupt mind, he lurched back and landed his upper half upon her upraised rump. Long talons dug into her soft backside and she cried out, despite her inability to move. Then the creature howled in agony. He turned to snap at Peris, who was pulling the kitchen knife from his shoulder and she stabbed at his face with it, slicing exposed tendons and sending a splatter of blood in all directions. With a lurch, he launched off of Crissa, tearing long gashes in her back and butt and he lunged for Peris. His aim was disturbed even as it charged at the small girl and there was a resounding clang as one of the fireplace pokers rebounded from his thick, wedge shaped skull. He had already built up speed, though, and slammed into a wall, stumbling across the floor and coming up on his feet, despite the rather shaken stance it adopted, with legs widely splayed. Kennet cocked back the long iron poker again, which was noticeably bent now. The creature growled at him, his long, triangular teeth bared and blood spraying from his mouth. Crissa regained her feet and lurched for the sack she had brought with her. Even as her hand closed on the burlap, something grabbed her shoulder and tossed her back, stumbling upon her rump and she felt cold where the hand had touched. The bag fell at her side from numb fingers as that arm slumped to her side. She looked about frantically, trying to espy her attacker now. "There's another in the room!" she shouted, fumbling for the bag again with her other hand as a solid blow landed on her cheek. It felt like a kick. She sprawled on the floor, her hand underneath her, thrust into the sack. The creature was approaching the armed pair cautiously, growling with terrible menace as it advanced. "Just what we needed," said Peris, "more guests." Terena moved about quietly, sliding a long knife from its sheath upon her hip. "Now, heretic, you die," she murmured. Crissa rolled over, pulling her hand from the sack. She was holding another light stone in it and Terena wondered at why the young sorceress would waste her last motion to lift such a thing. "Flah!" she screamed as she squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. There was a flash of light filling the room of such intensity that it caused even Peris and Kennet, who were facing the other direction to blink a few times as the scene before them burned itself onto their retinas. The creature had been half facing toward Crissa and he wailed as his sight left him, replaced by an odd pattern of black and white dots. Terena, however, had been looking directly at the sphere. She screamed out as the entire world flashed white, then went black. Wenn had specialized in light spells, after all, since early in his apprenticeship. Crissa pried her eyes open, having seen a near blinding light even through her hand and eyelids. The shape was still invisible, or nearly so, she could vaguely make out a shimmering outline by her side and lashed out with a booted foot, kicking the shapes ankle. It was screaming in a feminine voice, and Crissa met few women she could not best in a fair fight. Terena's feet flew out from under her as she tumbled to the floor. The long knife slid across the wood, becoming visible as soon as it left her hand. Crissa dove for it, even as Terena tried to crawl toward the sound, blinking her invisible eyes to try to clear the darkness that had engulfed them. The creature backed up, unsure what to do with the vague blurs that filled his vision now, slowly, very slowly regaining shapes. He launched itself for one shape, tearing a great chunk of the couch out with its claws and teeth. The fireplace poker hit his neck and he howled in pain and aimed for another vague shape. Crissa's fingers closed on the knife as she felt another person trying to crawl over her, punching and kicking at her. Then she felt small, sharp teeth sink into her shoulder from behind. She jerked the dagger back and up, aiming for over those teeth. The released her with a ear-splitting wail just inches from her head. The shape rolled half off of her and she helped it finish that roll, leaping to her feet with a powerful thrust of her long, muscular legs. A small chair near the doorway slid aside as something rolled against it and there were the sounds of a body tumbling and scrabbling for purchase. The creature had launched himself at Peris, and she dodged the clumsy attack with relative ease, only losing a bit of skin off her shin as he raked his bloody claws past her. She cut at it with the knife, just trying to do some damage, and managed to slice deep into his neck, sending another gout of blood splattering over herself. Terena scrabbled for where she thought he door was, and tried to turn over. The big sorceress had tossed her off her back like a sack of flour and she knew she would never win without seeing her opponent. Before she could regain her feet, however, Crissa landed full on her back, driving her face into the floor and pinning her down. "Have you now, bitch," growled the young sorceress at the witch. Crissa plunged the dagger up and toward where she thought ribs were. She felt it bite and dive deep into flesh and meat. Terena wailed as the dagger drove itself into her gut, spearing her belly. Again, Crissa struck, aiming a bit higher, and the shape stopped struggling under her with a soft wheeze. Blood covered the floor where she had pushed the blade into her invisible assailant. Crissa lifted herself to her knees and turned to see Kennet take a nasty wound to the leg from the blindly flailing creature. Peris sliced him again, the blade skittering off shallow bones in his chest. Crissa reached out with her mind again, this time only to distract it. It turned its eyes toward her, bloody slobber pouring from his maw. She again felt him taking the link over and preparing to drive back into her when Kennet, both hands clutching the poker, brought it down on the creatures finally stationary skull with a sickening crack. The poker broke off in his hand, but the creature slumped to the floor. It was still breathing, but Crissa felt its command of her drop again. She walked over to the creature and, with a look of measured coldness, slit his heaving throat open. A wide spray of crimson splattered the wall and her arms to a ugh of disgust from Peris. "Who's that?" asked Kennet, looking over Crissa's blood spattered shoulder. Crissa spun about, lifting the dagger before her again. The person she had stabbed with the fighting knife lay there, the magic bending the light around her gone in her death. She was clad in a silken gown and was only, perhaps, a few years older than Crissa, with raven hair. "A sorceress," said Crissa, kneeling beside the corpse. "I think she was who I felt in you, Peris." She looked down into the triangular face of the woman, with a delicate, pointed chin. The young sorceress closed the witch's eyes and said a quick prayer to the one, though she doubted he would hear an entreaty for someone of evil. "And what is that?" asked Peris, still clutching the kitchen knife in both hands and pointing its bloody, no longer pointed blade at the creature. Crissa shrugged and shook her head. "I've no idea, but I'd wager some magical construct," she said. "Flesh hound," said Kennet in a low voice, as if he were afraid to speak. "What?" asked Crissa. "It was a flesh hound, a demon," repeated the young man. "I learned about them in church, or in the church's archives." "You think these two are related to Wenn's trial?" asked Peris "Unless we're just attracting random witch and demon attacks, yes," replied Crissa, sarcasm edging into her voice. Peris sat down on the partially shredded couch. "Well, you are a sorceress, yourself. Perhaps it was professional jealousy." "I'm not that kind of witch," hissed Crissa with more venom in her voice than she intended. Peris' eyes grew round and worried. "I didn't mean. . ." she said. Every aspect of the petite brunette's pose and features showed great fear and concern. Crissa interrupted her by saying, "I know, sorry. But I also know I'll be battling that image for my whole life, if I let even a tiny bit of it pass." "What should we do now?" asked Kennet. "Find another hiding place," said Crissa without a pause. "We have to assume the others know about this one also, and this was just the first wave of a storm. Kennet picked up the glass orb that had emitted the blinding flash. "Just don't say `flah' while you hold that," said Crissa as she kneaded her limp arm, feeling started to return to it, though it now hurt. "Does that make it flash, as it did?" he asked. "Yes," she replied, a tired tone in her voice. "Wenn made it, one of the first true enchantments he's done."