When Lena said that finding Lamond would be easy, she meant that she knew where to find him – at the Volcanic Springs spa in the South East of Battahl. Actually getting there was nothing like easy. They had to traverse the entire Battahli kingdom along its crescent-shaped valley with so many twists and turns, that it made it three or four times longer than one would imagine. The journey alone would take weeks, not accounting for monsters. It was a major undertaking.

“We are in no shape for such a journey,” she declared in the morning after the trip to the oracle. “We need better gear… and since the nearest shop ahead is at the other end of the road, we are going back to the border checkpoint. Better to lose three days retracing our steps than to lose our lives to the monsters.”

She turned around and marched back with the same speed and determination as she was marching forward the day before. Rook and Mason exchanged glances but followed without an argument, at least this new strategy made sense.

The trip back was much quicker and a lot less bloody than the way forward as they were careful to take the same roads, freshly cleared of monsters. The smithy in the small border town welcomed them with the reverence and hospitality fit for a Sovran as Lena spent in one day more than the smithy normally made in a year…

“I was only suggesting to add a few reinforced leather patches to my existing coat, not to buy a whole new robe!” Rook tried to protest but Lena would hear none of it. “Have you gone mad?!” His jaw dropped when the shopkeeper laid out a mage’s robe made of the skin of a medusa, complete with a braided neckguard, jewelled belts and Fuligin ore bracers.

“I want you to stay alive,” Lena was adamant. “I sold the mansion in Vernsworth, so we have the funds.”

“I bet this robe costs more than an average house…”

“It does. Try it on.”

The new gear was in fact worth it, as the armourer in Vernworth used to say, “Quality is what you need in order to stay alive. So when you look at the price, just remember: misers die early deaths.” Wiser words had never been spoken.

They left Scorpio’s robe and staff with the inn, and Lena changed out of her assassin’s armour into a silver thread lorica – a piece of armour of Elven design, so old that not even the Elves could remember the maker.

“This isn’t just a modern reproduction…” the Elves were whispering between themselves throwing envious glances towards Lena. “This is the real thing… argent of old – just look how it shimmers. To think that a dh’oine should wear it… Sacrilege!”

Mason however refused an armour upgrade.

“Don’t waste your money on me,” he categorically shook his head. “If a golem crushes me, no armour will save my life. But I wouldn’t say no to a better weapon – my greatsword is pretty basic…”

Thus outfitted, they set out for the second time.

…

They’ve been traveling for five or six days and were now surrounded by the red rock country of Battahl from all sides, with grey granit mountains of Vermund completely out of view. Ancient ruins littered the landscape, shallow rivers were teaming with poisonous saurians, harpies and succubi of various grades were hiding on every cliff… or at least this was what it felt like to an adventurer that was too absorbed in studying the ruins and forgot to keep track of the environment. More often than not Lena, Rook and Mason found themselves rushing to aid traveling merchants beset by wolves or goblins or help wandering pawns who got into a fight with a golem. With all the goings on, their progress had been slow and Lena’s mood had been growing steadily more and more somber.

“Talk to us,” Rook spoke softly as he walked next to Lena. “That oracle really got to you, it’s plain to see. Talking about it tends to help.”

“What’s there to say?” Lena shrugged. “You saw the same thing as I did… Assuming that was in fact Scorpio and not someone else… his face was swallen and bruised so badly, it could have been almost anyone.”

“It probably was Scorpio…” Rook admitted with a sigh. “The same build, the same tattoos…”

“May be it doesn’t really matter whether it was a real image or not, because the effect on you is very real,” Mason joined in. “And dangerous.”

“The oracle’s goal was to disturb. It worked,” Rook nodded.

Lena sighed and didn’t say anything else for the rest of the day.

…

Two or three days passed in the same way. Rook and Mason were exchanging glances noticing Lena’s reflexes slowing, her bow no longer aimed true, her daggers barely connected with enemies, she fell in battle often and needed emergency healing. In a word, she appeared to have given up. Yet, she kept marching, kept leading them to their goal to find Lamond at the Volcanic Springs.

“We won’t make it to the Volcanic Springs at this rate,” Mason said to Rook when they were out of Lena’s earshot. “We won’t make it to the next turn in the road, for that matter. She needs help, but she’s too stubborn to ask for it.”

“Too stubborn, or may be… may be there is something else…” Rook rubbed his chin.

When they set up camp for the night, Lena was absent-minded, more so than even in the recent days. Something glinted in her eyes… She was crying.

“Don’t be surprised at what you’re about to see,” Rook said into Mason’s ear. He got up and walked over to Lena, sitting down next to her and hugging her around the shoulders. He pulled her closer and kissed her neck, her temple, her eyes, tasting the tears that kept running down her face. She made no sound, no attempt to resist, she gave no reaction at all. Rook turned her around, nestling her in his embrace, with more caresses and kisses to follow. Mason added logs to the fire. Still, Lena remained inert. Rook didn’t give up, they had all night.

…

“Don’t judge me too harshly, Mason,” Lena gave a weak smile, pouring coffee in the morning. Some colour had returned to her cheeks and she was no longer crying, but she still sounded very subdued.

“I do not judge you at all,” Mason shook his head. “We each carry our past in our hearts and not on our sleeves…”

“The last half a year…” Rook looked at her, taking the coffee she handed him. “It was never an act… Sven was right all along,” he smiled. “I am your escort no longer, but in truth it was never the case. I did not stop just because I didn’t have to do it any more…”

Lena nodded and focused on her coffee. She wasn’t ready to talk yet.

…

A few days later the situation was still largely unchanged, although Lena’s tears had stopped. She was still weak and slow in battle, and Mason took more than his fair share of hits. Even Rook had to resort to battle spells instead of his usual healing, shielding and weapon enchantment. Their progress towards the Volcanic Springs had slowed too.

“Sincere affection has been rare in my life, affection sincerely shared even more so,” Lena said one morning over coffee. “And thus when it does come along… I take it without holding back.”

“No judgement is being passed here,” Mason looked up. “You really don’t need to explain.”

“Oh, but I do,” Lena objected. “The sword of sorrow… that isn’t Fairy. It is my pesonal Godsbane.” She opened her pack and pulled out a short silver sword, or perhaps a long dagger, shimmering with some unknown enchantment. “I keep destroying it, but it keeps returning to my pack.”

“You cannot destroy it,” Rook shook his head. “That sword exists with a single purpose: for you to commit suicide. When did it apper?”

“When we came close to fighting the dragon,” Lena looked up. “But I ignored it, locked it up in a chest, and it stayed there until… why, until we met with the oracle.”

“She summoned it!” Mason exclaimed with anger.

“No, your grief summoned it,” Rook was watching Lena. “What did the oracle say? ‘Your pawn is lost.’ And you believed her. The Godsbane is the way out that they want you to take. You must not fall for that trap.”

Lena flung the Godsbane blade as far away as possible, and it disappeared between the rocks.

“It will be back, of course,” she sighed. “If anyone tells you that grief has stages, do not believe them,” she smirked. “It just has one stage: an incredible sense of loss. You’re right, I’ve been grieving for Scorpio but in fact he is not yet dead. We must see to it that it doesn’t happen. Thank you.” She walked over and sat next to Rook, hugging him tightly.

“Glad to see you’re back, Arisen!” Mason exclaimed in an upbeat voice. “I was starting to worry… Can we get a fighter now, that Fairy is no longer a thing? Get a man, if you must, I won’t even insist on a woman!” He rolled his eyes in a mock disappointment. “The beasts are getting fiercer the further in we go, and if we want to survive…”

“We need help,” Lena concluded. “The next pawn that offers to join us, if they are half way alright, we accept.”

…

Several pawns came and went in the course of the next few days, and Rook and Mason started to agree with Lena’s original reluctancy to accept just anybody.

“I never imagined that so many of us could be so completely useless as well as insufferable!” Mason shook his head turning over the roast. “It is a real shock to me, I must admit!”

“They weren’t useless as such, they just didn’t fit in our party,” Lena shrugged. “Not every fighter is the same in terms of skills, and then there are personal tendencies to consider… That’s why I normally ask about their Arisen. If the Arisen is anything like me, chances are the pawn will suit us.”

“Which explains why we still haven’t found one,” Mason smirked. “An Arisen like you… why, I do not believe such one exists!”

…

“My master… why do you ask, Arisen?” A fighter with a mighty mace stared at Lena. “But if you must know… He tends to use the bow.”

“An archer?” Lena smiled. “But why didn’t you say so?”

“Not an archer, a jack of all trades,” the pawn shook his head. “He can handle any weapon and any armour, use any vocation… but with that he is a master of none. Not something to be proud of, if you ask my opinion…”

“I see. You are hired.” Lena handed him a bundle of potions. “Try not to die.” She turned to continue their march, then stopped abruptly, facing the pawn again. “Err… I am sorry… I forgot. I no longer have the power to command pawns. So let’s start again. Would you like to join our party? We are going South.”

“Lead on, master,” the pawn grinned. “Your power never waned… I’ve heard of you, Arisen. There’s a rumour among pawns – that of a devastating illness that turns us willful and unruly. Say is, it is all your fault.”

“Well… it rather depends what illness you mean,” Lena smiled. “I’ve heard a rumour as well – about an illness that turns pawns into monsters, and that one is sadly true. It kills the pawn in the end – kills them outright, but not before they cause devastation… But that one isn’t my fault.”

“It’s a dangerous world that we live in. Let’s go.”