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Description
The Dream

Lana woke the next morning as something rough and very wet repeatedly slid over her face. She sputtered and bolted upright – to find Karnwyr grinning at her.

“What do you think you’re doing, mangy cur?”, she said, spitting out and wiping slobber from her face.

Her gaze fell on Bishop, sitting on his bedroll, chewing on a pie, not looking at her.

So, now he even sends Karnwyr to wake me up?

Still sulking, it seemed. Well, let him. She did not care. She patted Karnwyr’s head and started to dig in her backpack for one of her own pies. Maybe they tasted better in the morning.

They didn’t, not really. She kept throwing glances under her lashes at Bishop while chewing on a piece of pie that seemed to be getting constantly larger in her mouth. He still sat, looking at the ground, showing no signs of relenting.

So what? I don’t even want to talk to him.

She swallowed the last bit of her pie, got up and started to pack her stuff. Suddenly, something landed next to her on the ground with a flopping noise. It was a leather bag, flat, approximately scroll sized, attached to a narrow belt with a small buckle at the front. She took it, feeling the leather between her fingers. It was very soft and very thin. The bag was sewed with a thin, shimmering thread, the stitches narrow and evenly spaced. It was beautiful.

She looked up, meeting Bishop’s eyes.

“I bought the leather at the Gilded Horseshoe and made that bag last night. It’s for the scroll, as promised. You can wear it under your clothes, and probably no one will find it if we get caught again. Besides, it won’t scratch anymore.”

With that, he turned and started packing, too.

Lana looked at the bag in her hands and felt even worse than before. She had treated him really bad, and he still made her this?

Damn him! Why did he do it? It was deliberate, it must be! He just did it so she felt guilty!

And the worst thing was, it worked.

She swallowed and looked at his back in indecision.

All right! I’ll try one more time, but that’s it!

She took the – admittedly – scratching scroll out from under her shirt and tried to smooth it out. It had suffered a little already and was wrinkled, the edges starting to fray. Carrying it in the bag would be so much better.

She put it inside, and the scroll of Resurrection as well. Then she buckled the belt around her waist. If she kept down on her hips, she could wear the bag under her breeches, with no one the wiser.

When she was finished, she peered over at Bishop, who was covering the fireplace with sand.

Come on, you can do it.

She swallowed. Well then, no use in wasting time, was there? She went over to him, stopping a step or two away.

He stood up and looked at her, an eyebrow cocked.

“Thanks for the bag”, she said nonchalantly.

See, that wasn’t so difficult.

But he just shrugged and turned away without a word.

She could feel herself starting to seethe. Who the hells did he think he was? She’d tried, two times now, and he dared to ignore her?

“Damn you, stop that!” she yelled.

He whirled round, facing her again. “Stop what?”, he asked, calmly, but his eyes had narrowed a bit.

“You know damn well what! I’ve got it up to here”, she made a chopping motion at the height of her chin, “with your attitude!”

“You’ve got enough of my attitude?”, he answered, his voice raised as well. “Don’t make me laugh! Ever listened to yourself?”

She took a step nearer, her eyes glaring daggers at him. “I tried to be nice to you! But really, bugger that, I’m done trying! If you want it that way, fine!”

“Nice? You call that nice? That some kind of joke? All I’ve had from you is yelling, threats and insults! If that is nice, I pray I’ll never see your bad side!”

“Well, you damn well are going to see it, if you go on like that!” She took another step to him and started to poke him in the chest with her finger. “I’ve had about enough of you, Mister! I’m so fed up with you, I think if I have to bear you a minute longer, I’m going to heave!”

He swatted her hand away forcefully. “Well, you won’t have to bear me any longer, because I’m off! Good riddance, I say! Getting my memory back is really not worth it!”

“Go on, shove off! You think I care? The sooner I’m rid of you, the better!”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Fine!”

“Fine!”, she answered, hands on her hips.

They stood, glaring at each other, while Karnwyr watched them from a few yards away, his ears flattened next to his neck, whining softly.

After some seconds, Lana saw Bishop’s lips twitch slightly.

She tried to repress it, but could not stop a mixture between a snort and a giggle escape her.

They stared at each other for a few seconds longer, and broke into helpless laughter.

“Look, I’m sorry”, she wheezed, when she could talk again, wiping the tears out of her eyes. “I really did not mean to say those things to you. It’s simply that... sometimes, when I don’t know what to do... I just bitch.”

His lips twitched again. “No kidding.”

“Fine, go on, laugh at me. But I tried to apologise, you know?”

“And I should have accepted.” He looked away. “I’m sorry for what I just said, too, all right? Mostly you’ve been nice, trying to help me. What I said was unfair, so I apologise, as well.”

“Guess we’re even then?”

His eyes reverted to her, and he smiled slightly. “Guess so. About the other stuff I said... just forget I mentioned it, ok? I won’t bring it up again.”

It was her time to look away, but she nodded, wordlessly.

“Let’s get going, then”, he said, and went back to packing his things.

They made their way through the woods in silence once more, Bishop walking a few steps ahead of her and Karnwyr bouncing around wildly as usual. But the silence was not as hostile as it had been the day before. From time to time, Bishop turned to check on her, and sometimes he even smiled.

Lana found herself returning his smiles. She was more relieved than she cared to admit that the mood between them had lightened. Somehow, not even the undergrowth snagging at her clothes could dampen her humour today.

She watched Bishop weaving through the trees and bushes nearly without causing a ripple in the leaves and again felt admiration at his skill. Constantly having to untangle herself from clinging twigs or flinching at the sound of fallen branches snapping under her feet she wondered how he did it, feeling like the proverbial bull in the china shop.

It’s like the damned vegetables make room for him to pass.

And hop back into my way immediately after.

But today, not even that could get her temper to rise. She was just too happy that their fight seemed to be over.

So, why do you care so much?

Because it was damn uncomfortable, that’s why.

Karnwyr came bounding up to her, panting happily. The wolf seemed as relieved as she was that the air had cleared. Lana scratched his ears, smiled at him and continued to follow his master through the woods.

Come evening, Bishop found them a nice spot at a brook to camp, and Lana walked a short distance away to grab the opportunity to clean herself up a bit. She shivered while washing with the cold water.

“Still preferring a hot bath in a comfortable inn”, she told Karnwyr, who was by her side again.

When she was as reasonably clean as she could get, she returned to the camp to find a fire crackling.

“I’ll go and get clean myself”, Bishop said to her, standing up from the fire and stretching. “And then I’ll take first watch.”

She smiled and nodded, and he turned away into the growing dusk, leaving Karnwyr to keep her company as always. She dug into her backpack, getting out the last of the pies from the Gilded Horseshoe. She actually felt hungry again.

Taking a big bite, she found the pie to be delicious, if a bit stale after two days in her backpack.

Wonder why the other two were so bland?

As she lay down on her blankets, Karnwyr came snuggling up at her. Absentmindedly, she stroked his thick fur, staring up into the dark and starry sky, thinking about what they were going to do.

I sure hope I’m right about this.

She was anything but an expert on arcane magic. But as far as she knew, a Geas was a spell that worked very literally.

Garius had told Bishop he had to bring him back. What did that mean? He, Garius, had been a human. But when he had cast the spell on Bishop, he had been turned into a Shadow Reaver already. Did that mean they had to bring the Shadow Reaver back?

On the other hand, as the fact that their true names still had power over them proved, there was enough of whatever the Shadow Reavers had been before left in them. So they had not changed completely. And what change there was, it was the doing of their master, the King of Shadows, not their own.

So the conclusion she came to was that in the end, the true being of Garius was still his human version, even if he had been turned into a Shadow Reaver. If she was right, the Resurrection would work, and Bishop should get his memory back.

If she was wrong, what could happen? Best case, the Resurrection would not work, because there was no connection anymore between the mortal remains of Garius and whatever passed for his soul. Worst case, the Resurrection would work, but the Geas would not be triggered and Bishop would not regain his memories. And they would have to deal with a mighty cranky Master of the Fifth Tower.

Should not be too hard, though, she hoped, even if there were only the two of them. Three, if you counted Karnwyr. The Resurrection would bring Garius back fresh as the morning, not weakened in any way, but hopefully he still would need rest to recover the use of his spells. They just would have to see to it he did not get that rest.

If he returned with full use of his spells... they would be in very deep shit indeed.

Lana flinched as a shadow fell over her, interrupting her thoughts. She had not heard the ranger approaching, as usual.

Damn his sneakiness.

He bent down, stroking Karwyr’s head, who gave him one of his wolf grins. “Sleep well”, Bishop said, sitting down next to the fire. “I’ll wake you for second watch.”

That night, she had the dream again.

It had been some time now since she last had it. Maybe that meant she was getting better, since initially, it would haunt her every night, and she would wake up screaming, shivering, and crying, not able to calm down for a considerate time, until she feared going to sleep at all, staying up night after night, until she fell down, more unconscious than asleep, out of sheer exhaustion. And the dream would be back.

Gradually, it had afflicted her less and less, at first leaving her one night of more or less undisturbed sleep, then two, then three... until she sometimes had a week until it was back. Or two weeks.

But sooner or later, infallibly, it would be back to bite her in the butt.

She dreamed she was frantically hacking away with the Sword of Gith at the Statues of Purification while her companions threw themselves at the King of Shadows, trying to keep him away from her, to gain her time for what she had to do. She heard the crackling of magic as Sand cast his spells, felt the surge of power so similar to her own coming from Ammon, heard the voice of Zhjaeve over the din of battle, invoking the power of Zhertimon or whoever she prayed to, heard the clanging and clashing of weapons and armour as Khelgar and Casavir threw themselves bodily at an undefeatable foe. She heard the singing of Grobnar, and the twanging of Neeshka’s bow, because the tiefling preferred to keep her distance from an enemy she could not hurt with her twin rapiers.

Lana could not hear Qara’s whining voice. The sorceress had been silenced forever, after she decided to throw in her lot with Garius. Not a wise choice, as anyone who actually used their brains from time to time would have known. But Lana had not really been surprised at the harebrained decision of the girl. Because while she certainly did not lack in power, her intellectual capacities had not been something to admire. Her seemingly limitless arrogance had stood in the way. Now she was dead, killed along with her new master-for-a-very-short-time. Lana could not really bring herself to feel sorry for that. The brat had been much too annoying to grow on her.

And while she certainly could excuse a fiery temper – having to admit to one herself – she could not say the same for sheer stupidity. Hence she had no qualms about dishing out what the girl had asked for with her defection.

All these thoughts whirled through her head wildly while she continued to hack down statue after statue, gritting her teeth, trying to ignore the cries of pain from her friends, being cast through the room while they kept throwing themselves into the way of the King of Shadows as he tried to get to her, to keep her from chopping down the statues he drew his power from. As the last one of the statues fell, the Shadow let out an anguished screech, falling down... and dissipated.

Panting heavily, she looked around, not yet daring to hope it was over. She could see Khelgar, lying on the ground, bleeding profoundly – but already he was grumbling, swearing under his breath, getting to his feet again. She could see Sand, looking more or less unharmed, muttering under his breath, casting another spell of Stone Skin on himself, just to be on the safe side. She could see Grobnar, bouncing around excitedly, singing “The Shadow King is dead” on top of his voice. Ammon was picking himself up from the floor, dusting his clothes.

She also could see Zhjaeve’s still form, lying next to the wall, not moving. And she could see Neeshka, in a heap on the floor.

Oh no... not Neeshka...

She could feel pain gripping her heart at the loss of her friend, while she still searched for the one face she worried most for. To her relief, he stepped in front of her, his armour dented and anything but shiny now, bleeding from several claw marks the fiend had left behind – but there was a tender smile on his face.

She threw herself into his arms, standing up to the tips of her toes, because he was so much taller than her, kissing him fiercely. She was so happy he was alive... he was the one whose death she would not have been able to bear at all.

She could feel him smile against her lips while he returned her kiss. “We made it”, he murmured into her mouth.

She opened her eyes again and smiled up at him... and saw the Shadow forming behind his back.

Her eyes went wide and she was so shocked, she was not able to move or to call – and it all happened so fast. He looked into her face seeing the shock there, and realisation dawned in his eyes as he forcefully shoved her backwards, sending her sprawling on the ground in the exact moment the claws ripped his body from behind, piercing him completely and exiting on the front of his chest where they surely would have hurt her as well, had he not pushed her back.

She stared up into his suddenly pallid face while the claws ripped upwards through him, barely registering the shocked cries of her friends around her. Casavir looked down at her with a tenderness that made her heart break.

I love you, he mouthed. Then the light went out of his eyes.

“Nooooooo!”, she yelled, jumping to her feet, the pain ripping through her like the claws of the beast had ripped through Casavir, throwing herself forward in desperation while Khelgar’s strong hands gripped her from behind, holding her back, his voice grumbling something she could not even begin to understand.

“Let me go”, she cried, hot tears streaming down her face, fighting against the dwarf’s iron grip. “Let me go to him...”

“Lana!” A voice pierced her consciousness. “Wake up! It’s just a dream!”

She still fought against the steely grip that held her back. “Let me go to him”, she pleaded, opening her eyes...

...to see Bishop’s face looming over her. To find it were his hands on her shoulder, trying to keep her down, she was fighting against.

What is he doing here? He left when we faced Garius, he did not fight with us...

Then her eyes registered the shine of the fire, the twinkling stars above her, the dark shadows of the trees surrounding them.

Sky? Trees? But we were underground...

Slowly her brain returned to the present, shaking the remnants of the dream that still held her in its grip.

Right. She was not underground anymore. She was in the woods with Bishop. The fight with the King of Shadows was over and done. And Casavir had been dead for more than six months.

As Bishop released her shoulders she sat up, feeling her lower lip start to tremble while she tried to control the anguish that rose in her, the despair that was her constant companion since the moment she saw Casavir die after he saved her life.

“It’s all right”, Bishop murmured softly, tenderly wiping away the stains of the tears on her face. “It was only a dream.

It’s not all right – it will never be all right again.

And finally, the dam in her broke. She just could not take it anymore. Sobbing, she collapsed on Bishop’s chest, his arms going around her, rocking her like a child, while she cried all the tears she had kept down for so long.

Description
The Dream

Lana woke the next morning as something rough and very wet repeatedly slid over her face. She sputtered and bolted upright – to find Karnwyr grinning at her.

“What do you think you’re doing, mangy cur?”, she said, spitting out and wiping slobber from her face.

Her gaze fell on Bishop, sitting on his bedroll, chewing on a pie, not looking at her.

So, now he even sends Karnwyr to wake me up?

Still sulking, it seemed. Well, let him. She did not care. She patted Karnwyr’s head and started to dig in her backpack for one of her own pies. Maybe they tasted better in the morning.

They didn’t, not really. She kept throwing glances under her lashes at Bishop while chewing on a piece of pie that seemed to be getting constantly larger in her mouth. He still sat, looking at the ground, showing no signs of relenting.

So what? I don’t even want to talk to him.

She swallowed the last bit of her pie, got up and started to pack her stuff. Suddenly, something landed next to her on the ground with a flopping noise. It was a leather bag, flat, approximately scroll sized, attached to a narrow belt with a small buckle at the front. She took it, feeling the leather between her fingers. It was very soft and very thin. The bag was sewed with a thin, shimmering thread, the stitches narrow and evenly spaced. It was beautiful.

She looked up, meeting Bishop’s eyes.

“I bought the leather at the Gilded Horseshoe and made that bag last night. It’s for the scroll, as promised. You can wear it under your clothes, and probably no one will find it if we get caught again. Besides, it won’t scratch anymore.”

With that, he turned and started packing, too.

Lana looked at the bag in her hands and felt even worse than before. She had treated him really bad, and he still made her this?

Damn him! Why did he do it? It was deliberate, it must be! He just did it so she felt guilty!

And the worst thing was, it worked.

She swallowed and looked at his back in indecision.

All right! I’ll try one more time, but that’s it!

She took the – admittedly – scratching scroll out from under her shirt and tried to smooth it out. It had suffered a little already and was wrinkled, the edges starting to fray. Carrying it in the bag would be so much better.

She put it inside, and the scroll of Resurrection as well. Then she buckled the belt around her waist. If she kept down on her hips, she could wear the bag under her breeches, with no one the wiser.

When she was finished, she peered over at Bishop, who was covering the fireplace with sand.

Come on, you can do it.

She swallowed. Well then, no use in wasting time, was there? She went over to him, stopping a step or two away.

He stood up and looked at her, an eyebrow cocked.

“Thanks for the bag”, she said nonchalantly.

See, that wasn’t so difficult.

But he just shrugged and turned away without a word.

She could feel herself starting to seethe. Who the hells did he think he was? She’d tried, two times now, and he dared to ignore her?

“Damn you, stop that!” she yelled.

He whirled round, facing her again. “Stop what?”, he asked, calmly, but his eyes had narrowed a bit.

“You know damn well what! I’ve got it up to here”, she made a chopping motion at the height of her chin, “with your attitude!”

“You’ve got enough of my attitude?”, he answered, his voice raised as well. “Don’t make me laugh! Ever listened to yourself?”

She took a step nearer, her eyes glaring daggers at him. “I tried to be nice to you! But really, bugger that, I’m done trying! If you want it that way, fine!”

“Nice? You call that nice? That some kind of joke? All I’ve had from you is yelling, threats and insults! If that is nice, I pray I’ll never see your bad side!”

“Well, you damn well are going to see it, if you go on like that!” She took another step to him and started to poke him in the chest with her finger. “I’ve had about enough of you, Mister! I’m so fed up with you, I think if I have to bear you a minute longer, I’m going to heave!”

He swatted her hand away forcefully. “Well, you won’t have to bear me any longer, because I’m off! Good riddance, I say! Getting my memory back is really not worth it!”

“Go on, shove off! You think I care? The sooner I’m rid of you, the better!”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Fine!”

“Fine!”, she answered, hands on her hips.

They stood, glaring at each other, while Karnwyr watched them from a few yards away, his ears flattened next to his neck, whining softly.

After some seconds, Lana saw Bishop’s lips twitch slightly.

She tried to repress it, but could not stop a mixture between a snort and a giggle escape her.

They stared at each other for a few seconds longer, and broke into helpless laughter.

“Look, I’m sorry”, she wheezed, when she could talk again, wiping the tears out of her eyes. “I really did not mean to say those things to you. It’s simply that... sometimes, when I don’t know what to do... I just bitch.”

His lips twitched again. “No kidding.”

“Fine, go on, laugh at me. But I tried to apologise, you know?”

“And I should have accepted.” He looked away. “I’m sorry for what I just said, too, all right? Mostly you’ve been nice, trying to help me. What I said was unfair, so I apologise, as well.”

“Guess we’re even then?”

His eyes reverted to her, and he smiled slightly. “Guess so. About the other stuff I said... just forget I mentioned it, ok? I won’t bring it up again.”

It was her time to look away, but she nodded, wordlessly.

“Let’s get going, then”, he said, and went back to packing his things.

They made their way through the woods in silence once more, Bishop walking a few steps ahead of her and Karnwyr bouncing around wildly as usual. But the silence was not as hostile as it had been the day before. From time to time, Bishop turned to check on her, and sometimes he even smiled.

Lana found herself returning his smiles. She was more relieved than she cared to admit that the mood between them had lightened. Somehow, not even the undergrowth snagging at her clothes could dampen her humour today.

She watched Bishop weaving through the trees and bushes nearly without causing a ripple in the leaves and again felt admiration at his skill. Constantly having to untangle herself from clinging twigs or flinching at the sound of fallen branches snapping under her feet she wondered how he did it, feeling like the proverbial bull in the china shop.

It’s like the damned vegetables make room for him to pass.

And hop back into my way immediately after.

But today, not even that could get her temper to rise. She was just too happy that their fight seemed to be over.

So, why do you care so much?

Because it was damn uncomfortable, that’s why.

Karnwyr came bounding up to her, panting happily. The wolf seemed as relieved as she was that the air had cleared. Lana scratched his ears, smiled at him and continued to follow his master through the woods.

Come evening, Bishop found them a nice spot at a brook to camp, and Lana walked a short distance away to grab the opportunity to clean herself up a bit. She shivered while washing with the cold water.

“Still preferring a hot bath in a comfortable inn”, she told Karnwyr, who was by her side again.

When she was as reasonably clean as she could get, she returned to the camp to find a fire crackling.

“I’ll go and get clean myself”, Bishop said to her, standing up from the fire and stretching. “And then I’ll take first watch.”

She smiled and nodded, and he turned away into the growing dusk, leaving Karnwyr to keep her company as always. She dug into her backpack, getting out the last of the pies from the Gilded Horseshoe. She actually felt hungry again.

Taking a big bite, she found the pie to be delicious, if a bit stale after two days in her backpack.

Wonder why the other two were so bland?

As she lay down on her blankets, Karnwyr came snuggling up at her. Absentmindedly, she stroked his thick fur, staring up into the dark and starry sky, thinking about what they were going to do.

I sure hope I’m right about this.

She was anything but an expert on arcane magic. But as far as she knew, a Geas was a spell that worked very literally.

Garius had told Bishop he had to bring him back. What did that mean? He, Garius, had been a human. But when he had cast the spell on Bishop, he had been turned into a Shadow Reaver already. Did that mean they had to bring the Shadow Reaver back?

On the other hand, as the fact that their true names still had power over them proved, there was enough of whatever the Shadow Reavers had been before left in them. So they had not changed completely. And what change there was, it was the doing of their master, the King of Shadows, not their own.

So the conclusion she came to was that in the end, the true being of Garius was still his human version, even if he had been turned into a Shadow Reaver. If she was right, the Resurrection would work, and Bishop should get his memory back.

If she was wrong, what could happen? Best case, the Resurrection would not work, because there was no connection anymore between the mortal remains of Garius and whatever passed for his soul. Worst case, the Resurrection would work, but the Geas would not be triggered and Bishop would not regain his memories. And they would have to deal with a mighty cranky Master of the Fifth Tower.

Should not be too hard, though, she hoped, even if there were only the two of them. Three, if you counted Karnwyr. The Resurrection would bring Garius back fresh as the morning, not weakened in any way, but hopefully he still would need rest to recover the use of his spells. They just would have to see to it he did not get that rest.

If he returned with full use of his spells... they would be in very deep shit indeed.

Lana flinched as a shadow fell over her, interrupting her thoughts. She had not heard the ranger approaching, as usual.

Damn his sneakiness.

He bent down, stroking Karwyr’s head, who gave him one of his wolf grins. “Sleep well”, Bishop said, sitting down next to the fire. “I’ll wake you for second watch.”

That night, she had the dream again.

It had been some time now since she last had it. Maybe that meant she was getting better, since initially, it would haunt her every night, and she would wake up screaming, shivering, and crying, not able to calm down for a considerate time, until she feared going to sleep at all, staying up night after night, until she fell down, more unconscious than asleep, out of sheer exhaustion. And the dream would be back.

Gradually, it had afflicted her less and less, at first leaving her one night of more or less undisturbed sleep, then two, then three... until she sometimes had a week until it was back. Or two weeks.

But sooner or later, infallibly, it would be back to bite her in the butt.

She dreamed she was frantically hacking away with the Sword of Gith at the Statues of Purification while her companions threw themselves at the King of Shadows, trying to keep him away from her, to gain her time for what she had to do. She heard the crackling of magic as Sand cast his spells, felt the surge of power so similar to her own coming from Ammon, heard the voice of Zhjaeve over the din of battle, invoking the power of Zhertimon or whoever she prayed to, heard the clanging and clashing of weapons and armour as Khelgar and Casavir threw themselves bodily at an undefeatable foe. She heard the singing of Grobnar, and the twanging of Neeshka’s bow, because the tiefling preferred to keep her distance from an enemy she could not hurt with her twin rapiers.

Lana could not hear Qara’s whining voice. The sorceress had been silenced forever, after she decided to throw in her lot with Garius. Not a wise choice, as anyone who actually used their brains from time to time would have known. But Lana had not really been surprised at the harebrained decision of the girl. Because while she certainly did not lack in power, her intellectual capacities had not been something to admire. Her seemingly limitless arrogance had stood in the way. Now she was dead, killed along with her new master-for-a-very-short-time. Lana could not really bring herself to feel sorry for that. The brat had been much too annoying to grow on her.

And while she certainly could excuse a fiery temper – having to admit to one herself – she could not say the same for sheer stupidity. Hence she had no qualms about dishing out what the girl had asked for with her defection.

All these thoughts whirled through her head wildly while she continued to hack down statue after statue, gritting her teeth, trying to ignore the cries of pain from her friends, being cast through the room while they kept throwing themselves into the way of the King of Shadows as he tried to get to her, to keep her from chopping down the statues he drew his power from. As the last one of the statues fell, the Shadow let out an anguished screech, falling down... and dissipated.

Panting heavily, she looked around, not yet daring to hope it was over. She could see Khelgar, lying on the ground, bleeding profoundly – but already he was grumbling, swearing under his breath, getting to his feet again. She could see Sand, looking more or less unharmed, muttering under his breath, casting another spell of Stone Skin on himself, just to be on the safe side. She could see Grobnar, bouncing around excitedly, singing “The Shadow King is dead” on top of his voice. Ammon was picking himself up from the floor, dusting his clothes.

She also could see Zhjaeve’s still form, lying next to the wall, not moving. And she could see Neeshka, in a heap on the floor.

Oh no... not Neeshka...

She could feel pain gripping her heart at the loss of her friend, while she still searched for the one face she worried most for. To her relief, he stepped in front of her, his armour dented and anything but shiny now, bleeding from several claw marks the fiend had left behind – but there was a tender smile on his face.

She threw herself into his arms, standing up to the tips of her toes, because he was so much taller than her, kissing him fiercely. She was so happy he was alive... he was the one whose death she would not have been able to bear at all.

She could feel him smile against her lips while he returned her kiss. “We made it”, he murmured into her mouth.

She opened her eyes again and smiled up at him... and saw the Shadow forming behind his back.

Her eyes went wide and she was so shocked, she was not able to move or to call – and it all happened so fast. He looked into her face seeing the shock there, and realisation dawned in his eyes as he forcefully shoved her backwards, sending her sprawling on the ground in the exact moment the claws ripped his body from behind, piercing him completely and exiting on the front of his chest where they surely would have hurt her as well, had he not pushed her back.

She stared up into his suddenly pallid face while the claws ripped upwards through him, barely registering the shocked cries of her friends around her. Casavir looked down at her with a tenderness that made her heart break.

I love you, he mouthed. Then the light went out of his eyes.

“Nooooooo!”, she yelled, jumping to her feet, the pain ripping through her like the claws of the beast had ripped through Casavir, throwing herself forward in desperation while Khelgar’s strong hands gripped her from behind, holding her back, his voice grumbling something she could not even begin to understand.

“Let me go”, she cried, hot tears streaming down her face, fighting against the dwarf’s iron grip. “Let me go to him...”

“Lana!” A voice pierced her consciousness. “Wake up! It’s just a dream!”

She still fought against the steely grip that held her back. “Let me go to him”, she pleaded, opening her eyes...

...to see Bishop’s face looming over her. To find it were his hands on her shoulder, trying to keep her down, she was fighting against.

What is he doing here? He left when we faced Garius, he did not fight with us...

Then her eyes registered the shine of the fire, the twinkling stars above her, the dark shadows of the trees surrounding them.

Sky? Trees? But we were underground...

Slowly her brain returned to the present, shaking the remnants of the dream that still held her in its grip.

Right. She was not underground anymore. She was in the woods with Bishop. The fight with the King of Shadows was over and done. And Casavir had been dead for more than six months.

As Bishop released her shoulders she sat up, feeling her lower lip start to tremble while she tried to control the anguish that rose in her, the despair that was her constant companion since the moment she saw Casavir die after he saved her life.

“It’s all right”, Bishop murmured softly, tenderly wiping away the stains of the tears on her face. “It was only a dream.

It’s not all right – it will never be all right again.

And finally, the dam in her broke. She just could not take it anymore. Sobbing, she collapsed on Bishop’s chest, his arms going around her, rocking her like a child, while she cried all the tears she had kept down for so long.