She slumped in the corner, holding her head. She knew exactly what he liked and disliked in women. Problem was, he was now entirely pre-occupied with that damned goddess, Egreera. And it wasn’t even Egreera, just something she had constructed out of his memories. She was very beautiful and regal, just like a goddess should be. Was this jealousy? She had never been jealous over a man before, and this goddess wasn’t even real. In fact she WAS her. It was all becoming too confusing.
She should never have taken the job, but the promise of immortality was just too much to resist. Also, she would have been hard pressed to resist putting one over the ‘mighty Lord Draco’. If only she had known…
One way or another, tomorrow would be interesting.

It was the woman who captured his attention immediately. She was beautiful (in a haughty way), and he could see when she curtsied that she didn’t like bowing to people. But when she looked up, her gaze swallowed him. She focused on him as if she knew him inside out. She muttered something, but he missed it. He could see so much passion in those eyes…
“Hrm, hrm” coughed Tridian somewhere from the side. Souriin broke eye contact. It was quiet, and everyone was looking at him expectantly. He could feel himself redden. There was that wry grin on Tridian’s face again.
“Right. Lord Souriin, it’s my pleasure to introduce Adara Sea’Calin. She is to serve as your magical support. We will meet Ethan, a priest of Brador on site, where he has been trying to umm…break in. Adara, are you ready?”
Souriin looked at her again. Her face had lost its passion, and it was as if he had imagined what he had just seen. The look she gave him was one of absolute hatred. He couldn’t have imagined it…could he? If he hadn’t, it seemed that the lady didn’t know whether to like him or hate him.
She cast her spell, and butterflies of light appeared everywhere, chiming an ethereal melody. How unique.
The butterflies slowly surrounded him, and the world grew fuzzy…

…and slowly brightened, transforming into rocky ledges, palms, a beach and a spray of surf. Souriin tensed, holding the vial given to him by Sepyt. When shattered, it would transport him straight into the Temple of Rotan, where healers could see to him. The lights faded, and the triplets started to climb off the ledge to the camp below. There was a sweet smell of venison and vegetables in the air.
“Adara sweetie, could you spare me my legs next time and land us on the beach? You could dock me a week’s pay,” he heard Tridian complain.
So Adara was the one in charge? Surprised, Souriin looked at her. She was staring at him again, that same hunger in her eyes. She looked away instantly, as if afraid to meet his gaze.
“You talk too much Tridian,” she said with contempt in her voice.
Souriin spoke a spell, and both he and Adara appeared in the camp. He could hear Tridian cursing from the ledge above. He had to speak to her without Tridian’s interruptions. Adara’s shoulders were tense, as if she was expecting a dagger in the back.
“My Lady, I was under the impression that it was Tridian leading the expedition”
She slowly took off her sandals, and started walking towards the largest tent.
“Yes well, Tridian often gives false impressions of how things are. M’lord, you will be staying in the tent to the right of the bright red one. The servants will try to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“Adara…”
She stopped. “Yes m’lord?”
“It was you wasn’t it?”
“Wh…What do you mean?” She turned, her eyes searching his face for the answer.
“In the inn, with Tridian. It was you there. You’re the one.”
“I’m afraid you must have mistaken me with someone else. Excuse me.” She turned, and ran the rest of the way to her tent. With a loud splash, Tridian landed in the water, waking Souriin from his thoughts. He was bellowing like a wounded hippogriff. Souriin shook his head, and headed for the shore.

Tridian stood up, scowling at the body beneath him. What a waste. He wiped his needle-like dagger on the man’s clothes out of reflex (the blade was always clean), and he looked up. Souriin was unchanged, sitting peacefully, unaware of what had just happened several feet behind him. He almost laughed out loud at the idea that he had just saved Souriin’s life. Like a shadow, he was replaced by darkness.

“So Sister, after all your claims and tantrums, you take matters into your own hands after all?”
A squirrel, quick as a snake, dark as midnight ran down a nearby branch, landing gently in front of a maiden. It had been the squirrel that had spoken. The woods moved and trembled, their displeasure at the guest’s appearance evident to the hunter. The maiden looked like a sylph, enwrapped in vines, roses, moss and holly, all crooning their timeless melodies of praise to her. There was an ethereal light everywhere, neither dawn nor dusk, and yet something in between.
“You come uninvited, Lillyos.”
The squirrel, eyes shifting everywhere, was hard to follow. It flitted from shadow to shadow, never standing still.
“You are the one who wanted to meet me, Egreera. Spare me the semantics of courtesy.” The branches were moving, trying to grasp it in motion, but it was too fast. The vines enwrapping the lady took root, suckling from the loam.
“You will stop this foolishness at once. How dare you directly interfere with ones not of your faith. You break rules that were set in place when Father was young.”
The squirrel landed on the ground, transforming into a fox. It growled at the Lady, heckles rising.
“You are one to talk, sweet Sister. Since when did you become the Patron of Love? Or were you hoping I wouldn’t notice the bond you placed on Adara and Souriin? How pathetic. I would stick to growing vegetables if I were you. You did my work for me. Adara cannot fall in love with him. She knows him too well. It can only be a selfish, secret obsession. He, in turn, cannot keep loving her because of her lies, and thanks to your bond they will always think of each other, hating each other for staying apart. He already blames you for ruining his life and once she betrays him, he will dry up like a husk, an empty shell. He is only the first of these Lords to pay. They will all pay for my humiliation.”
The woods swayed in the wind, their outrage reflecting their Mistress’s emotions.
“You go too far, Lilliyos. You meddled with Adara’s spell research. Trada is not pleased at the way you broke her restrictions, making the spell far more powerful than it should be. And placing a suggestion in her mind to imitate me? Maybe I cannot undo what you wrought, but I can try to correct it. You are asking to be shackled again.”
The fox bulged and split like a pod. A shadow emerged, lurching forward. The vines binding the fox skin to the ground withered where it stepped.
“You will never, ever bind me again. Not to a mortal’s wish or desire. I will destroy everything first.”
The wind had picked up, gusting in random directions. The woods were howling, and the hunter had to hold tight as they threatened to crush him. The vines on the Lady were twisting like serpents, and her eyes were like ice.
“I thought you might see it that way. That’s why I asked you to meet me in my realm. That’s why I asked Trada to second my call to Father.”
The shadow froze, anger instantly replaced by calm. It shrank, looking vulnerable and ethereal.
“No, please Sister. Egreera, don’t do this. Let me explain.” The shadow’s voice was pleading, soothing, and the hunter was overcome with an urge to comfort it. The Lady’s voice brought back his reason like a slap of icy water.
“And how do you expect me to trust you?” The shadow crept closer, flowing like smoke, entwining the maiden.
“Because you know what it is like to be imprisoned…”
The woods were calming again, leaving the hunter battered and bruised, but alive. He found a twilla tuber by the roots of the oak nearest to him, and he sang to it quietly, asking it to aid him. It released its sap, closing his cuts while it reassured him of its vitality.
He looked at the Gods, no longer certain he should be watching. He turned slowly, making no noise. Suddenly, he smelt blue-bells. The Lady’s contact filled him with life, and blood pounded in his head. He could hear Her in his mind: “Tell the Lords of Rotan of the danger to them when they come. As to your question… I have never been disappointed in you. Tell your wife that this year she will give birth to her first child. You will name him Fallenthal, which means “the Gift” in the tongue of your ancestors. Go with my blessings.”
He turned to see her again, but the woods closed like a cocoon, blocking his view. He could feel Her in his heart though, and he sprinted, all stealth forgotten, back to his village. His wife was waiting, and he was bursting to share his news. His only worry was that he had no clue as to what the ‘Lords’ were, and he was sure he had never heard of a ‘Rotan’.

He looked towards Ethan. The priest had the crowd calm again. Tridian smiled and waved to him. A message would have to be sent to Brador as well. During the Time of Troubles, it was Brador who had betrayed Lilliyos to the Others. He had a plan for Ethan that not even Lilliyos knew about. She would be pleasantly surprised.
Hmmm. They were kissing. Maybe he would not need his spells after all. Smiling to himself, Tridian lowered his hat over his eyes, and shifted in his chair. He called to Lilliyos, longing for the comfort of her presence, but as before, his soul remained empty.

Adara had not spoken to him since this morning. She was brooding again and she looked like she was fighting an unseen battle. Her hands were clenching and unclenching. He resisted the urge to comfort her. As if she could hear his thoughts, she turned to look at him. She quickly looked away, leaving him wondering yet again where he stood with her. He could hear the servants’ laughter outside. He looked down, and caught Borris and Eyre observing him. They glanced at each other and got back to their game. Something was happening. He had taken his daily dose of antidotes this morning, and he felt no worse than yesterday. He felt in his pocket for the bottle given to him by Sepyt. Its cool texture restored his confidence. The waiting had slowly frayed his nerves to a breaking point.
“Yes!”
The shout energised them all. Tridian stood up, with a loud crack hit his head on the support beam, and sat down just as suddenly, sneezing in the cloud of dust. The triplets were on their feet, in a low stance, holding their short, barbed spears. Adara was walking quickly towards him. Dross was the only calm figure. He was sweeping all of the coins into his helmet.
“Yes! Ha, haaa. How simple. The writing means nothing…and everything.” Ethan ran up to them.
Adara had wriggled herself into Souriin’s arms. She was tense.
“I was a bit confused as to what some of the words meant, but if you look carefully, these here… these are almost like…like the stroke crossing the ‘t’. What a work of art! If you join each of these letters…”
Ethan was marking the letters on the paper copy of the gate they had made yesterday.
“…they form…they form a very crude symbol of Brador, look…a coin with… a head. Ha!”
He looked around triumphantly around the gathered people.
“I knew the electrum was the important link! Somehow, the priests in those days used electrum as a conduit of magic, but unfortunately we have forgotten how to mix it with iron to make it useful. If you look carefully…”
Ethan ran up to the gate, and pointed up.
“…You will see that each of these strokes is carefully inscribed in electrum! Time for me to prepare. You must all be ready in one hour. We really do not know what guardians lie inside. The scriptures warn of a thousand dooms…”
He started running around like a man on fire. He was gathering components, and muttering to himself again.
Tridian stood up, looking sickly: “Yes well, I think I’m going to get a breath of fresh air. All this talk of dooms. Excuse me you two. A man of my stature needs the whole corridor.”
He brushed past Souriin, covering most of the outside light. As he passed, Adara relaxed. Souriin could still feel her shivering.
She leaned closer, as if to kiss him, but he heard her whisper in his ear.
“Beware of the triplets. I will try to help you. Trust me.”
She quickly kissed him on his cheek, and was past him before he could respond. Borris was looking at him again.

The vortex, at first a tenuous shivering entity, had steadied slowly, gaining in intensity and stability. There was a core within it that looked like it was made of molten gold, floating and flowing back and forth, shivering each time Ethan raised his hands.

Even though he was on guard, he must have missed the sign, the signal. The triplets moved in unison. One tossed a bottle at him, taking a wide swing. It was aimed with deadly accuracy, and it hit him in the chest, shattering. Before Souriin had a chance to stagger, a coin hit him, following the bottle. He tried to raise his arms in front of his face, but the cloth of his sleeves was stuck to his torso, immobilising him. He tried taking a step, but his legs were stuck together as well, and suddenly he was falling. He tried to cry out, but no noise came out of his mouth. The coin had stuck to his chest. The triplets were shouting something but he could not hear anything. He saw a chequered pattern, with little gleams of hooked metal, and a net enwrapped him on his way down. It had all happened so fast… He hit the ground, and the hooks snagged his clothes. The spell aura around him flared, protecting him from the barbs. He could see Adara stretch her hand out, casting, fear and surprise written in her eyes. And then Tridian was there, behind her. Tridian, the useless, fat merchant, holding a chunk of wood. Souriin tried to scream a warning, his thoughts fleeing with fear for her, but no sound came out. He tossed around, but he was caught like a fish, and he could feel his protection spell discharging with a steady glimmer, as the hooks tried to dig in.
Adara’s spell erupted instants before the wood hit her. A fan of rainbow colours spread through the triplets. They stopped, shaking their heads. Malcam dropped his spear. The log hit her under her ear, sending her careening into the wall, where she bounced off and dropped like a rag doll. Blood began to pool.
Souriin could see the dwarf bellowing, his moon-shaped axe carving the path before him. There was a spray of blood, and Eyre’s arm dropped to the ground followed by the two halves of his spear. Stunned from Adara’s spell, he just stood there, staring at the black fluid spraying from his stump.
The dwarf continued with momentum, and his spiked helmet hit Malcam in the midriff. He doubled up, landing on the floor out of breath. Borris made a weak swipe with his spear, but with a shower of sparks, the head deflected off Dross’s plate armour. Borris leaped back from a broad swipe of the axe, trying to clear his head and gain some distance for his spear. With a feat of strength and mastery, Dross pirouetted, changing the horizontal arc to a vertical one. Malcam, sitting on the ground, only had time to shield his face with his arm, as the axe descended on him, crunching through his arm bone to embed itself in his skull. Tridian was shouting something to Ethan.
Without bothering to remove the embedded axe, Dross spun…and slipped in the blood on the floor, twisting his leg painfully as he fell to his knee.
Borris’ spear caught him under the chin, lifting him momentarily to his feet, before the shaft shattered under his weight...

“…No, Dross no. How many times do I have to tell you - follow the swing. The axe is your only friend. Do not fight it. Follow it. Guide it to its destination. That way you are always aware of where your opponents are. That way, you always know where you should strike next.”
Dross looked at the ground, too ashamed of his failure to look up. A hand, callused, and as hard as rock picked up his chin. He looked into the smiling, proud eyes of his father. He hugged him, taking in the smell of oil on the cloth. His father returned his embrace.
“Never be ashamed of making a mistake. That way you can face it and correct it. If you make the same mistake again, think on why it happened, and then try again, and again, until whatever you’re doing is perfect. That’s how we represent our Gods.”
“Yes, father…”
He wasn’t going to sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning, he would show his father. Tomorrow he would make him proud…

Souriin’s spell of protection finally faded, and he stopped struggling, as the hooks bit painfully into his flesh in a hundred places. Eyre had finally fainted from shock. He had tried to crawl to the entrance, leaving a blood trail behind him.
Tridian walked up to him and poured some liquid onto his stump, and the wound closed, steaming furiously. There was a hook dangerously close to Souriin’s eye, and he didn’t dare to turn his head. Suddenly, Tridian was looming over him. He forced his jaws open, and stuffed a rotting rag in his mouth. He ripped the coin from his chest, and sound returned.
“…hell do you think you’re doing. You nearly killed her, you idiot.” Souriin could hear Ethan cursing. She was alive! He heard her groan, and he coughed. The rag was vile.
“She almost ruined it all. Thanks to her, Malcam is dead, and Eyre is useless.”
Ethan walked over to Souriin, calmly ascertaining the extent of his injuries. Seemingly satisfied, he turned to Tridian.
“I told you two days ago that this…affair would lead to trouble. What if the scriptures are right about the inner guardians? We need her.”
“Ethan, stop chattering, and immobilise him please.”
Tridian knelt in front of Souriin. His expression feigned concern.
“How are you Souriin, ah… I mean Lord Draco. All right? Good. I wouldn’t want you to miss the next couple of minutes. You know Adara is alive, right?”
Souriin nodded slowly.
“Resist the spell from Ethan, and she dies. Do you understand?”
He nodded again. Souriin’s hand gripped the vial. If it broke, he would be safe in Rotan’s temple. It was now or never. Tridian watched resistance fade from his eyes. He could not leave her.
“You made the right choice, Souriin.”
He leaned over to glance at his hand.
“Oh, don’t worry, you wouldn’t have gone anywhere.”
He put his hand in his pocket, slowly withdrawing a vial with the symbol of Rotan. His eyes widened, sparkling with mirth.
“Oh, what’s this? How did it get in my pocket?”
His hand closed on Souriin’s, crushing the glass held within. The shards bit into Souriin’s hand, but he no longer felt them. A sharp smell filled the air.
Tridian continued: “Lilac. You know, I believe that this is Adara’s favourite perfume.”
He stood up, as Ethan began the droning chant. Souriin felt the spell’s tendrils creep onto him, searching for a way to attach themselves. He had to relax. Adara’s life depended on it. She was all that counted. Relax. He felt his muscles lock, and the pain faded. When had Tridian taken his vial…?
Tridian spoke again: “You can take the net off now, Borris.”
He must have done this many times, because Souriin was out of the net within five minutes. Borris’ eyes were as cold as ever. He didn’t seem to care that his brother was dead, with an axe buried in his head. With a sneer, he stood him up, like a sack of grain. The spell was holding him fast. He tried time and time again to fight it, but it held, elastically resisting all his efforts. They had dubbed the spell ‘the slayer’ in the academy. Any lowly priest could cast it, it was difficult to resist, and once you were caught in it, anyone could walk up to you and slit your throat.
Ethan looked feverish: “Bring him closer to the vortex. Hurry, the power is peaking.”
Borris’ hair was standing, twisting in rhythm to the vortex in front of him. Tridian’s face came into Souriin’s view. He couldn’t even blink.
“Now Ethan here, Ethan thinks you would make a wonderful spell component. You see, he believes that the only way to get into the Vault is by channelling these wonderfully pent up forces straight through you. Now unfortunately, that would pretty much guarantee your demise. He fails to see the alternative.”
He faced the confused priest.
“What the hell are you babbling about, Tridian?”
“Borris, would you kindly help me?”
Ethan leapt forward bellowing, finally understanding treachery. This seemed to energise Tridian. With a smooth motion belying his girth, his cape left his shoulders, enwrapping Ethan’s head. With a nudge, he sent the bellowing priest towards Borris’ net. Ethan howled, as the little hooks dug in. He went still.
“You treacherous dog, you dare betray me? Brador curse you to hell!”
Tridian pulled out a dagger. It was a silver, needle thin stiletto with an ivory handle.
“First of all, that won’t work. If I were carrying a malady for every time someone cursed me, I would be an ugly sight indeed. Secondly, the Vault is open. It took me months, but I got in. I have robbed you blind Ethan, before you even started. How does that feel?”
Tridian made a slit in the cape where Ethan’s face was. He was chuckling to himself.
“Now I’m not normally this conversant, but I want to make sure that you deliver a message for me. Tell Brador that Lillyos never forgets a betrayal.”
He pushed Ethan into the Vortex. With a shriek, the priest lit up. The net disintegrated, sending shards of metal shrapnel flying. Ethan screamed once again, as the molten core enveloped him like a golden skin. He was struggling, as if caught in a quagmire.
Tridian picked himself up, extracting a metal hook from his arm with a hiss of pain. He looked around and smiled.
“Ah, Adara darling. So good of you to join us.”
Adara hobbled up to Souriin, holding her wound. There was a deep blue welt on her face, closing her left eye. Borris nudged her away with his spear.
“Come here please,” said Tridian, holding up his hand. She looked at Borris standing next to Souriin, and she walked slowly over to Tridian. He hugged her, and kissed her on the cheek. She stiffened from the pain. He turned her to face Souriin.
“Come on, Adara. Why the long face? It has all gone according to plan,” he said laughing at Souriin.
She shook her head slowly, not daring to look up.
“Yes, yes. I know I didn’t tell you I had the treasure already, but don’t worry, I’ll pay you in full.”
She moaned, shuddering: “Don’t. Please don’t…”
What were they talking about? And why didn’t she help him?
“You were great. I’ve never seen such a performance.”
She whispered: “Souriin, don’t listen to him. I…I love you.”
Tridian hugged her again: “No, no. Shame on you. He deserves to know.”
He walked her closer to Souriin.
“Adara has known you for many months now, nearly a year. She’s been with you for a long, long time. Do you remember all those dreams of Egreera? ‘Souriin, please help me. I’m dying’. They were a masterpiece, were they not? Really inspired…”
She shuddered in Tridian’s arms. This was a trick. She was obviously under a spell. Tridian lifted her chin. Souriin could see her straining against it. Still she would not look at him. Oh Gods, this had to be a mistake. “You see, Adara is a very talented enchantress. She created a special spell – just for you. All these months in your head, reading your innermost thoughts, your desires, your ideas. No wonder it has unhinged her slightly.”
His memories…His dreams…Her feelings…It was all an act?
“HOW COULD YOU,” he screamed silently in his head, hoping he was wrong.
She looked up, frightened by his intensity, and bit her lip, recognising his ruse. He howled in his head. She could feel him becoming distant to her. His face froze, his jaw set. He slowed his breathing.
“Yeees…” said Tridian, letting her go. She fell to her knees, hugging herself.
 “Umm…Tridian? Tridian, I think you should look at this.”
 Irritated, Tridian turned to Borris. His eyebrows shot up. Ethan had swollen to five times his size. He was floating in the vortex, his body shifting shape like liquid gold. The vortex was collapsing, and where it touched the walls, it transmuted them to gold.
Borris helped Eyre up. He was still groggy, and covered in blood.
Tridian turned to Souriin.
“Thank you for the transport. I trust you kids can find your own way out. Adara, I’ll be seeing you about the payment. Borris, hold on to me.”
He crushed the bottle, and they vanished. Except for the humming vortex, there was silence. Slowly, she got up off her knees. Moments later, the cave was empty.