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"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Kai asked impatiently.

The brun turned his gaze to the wood elf. "Tell your fleshie that if he opens his mouth again, I will rip out his tongue and feed it to my hyolf. For the third and final time, yes. I am sure."

Ryllae smirked as she turned to look at Kai. "The big mean looking fellow over there says that if you-"

"I heard him." Kai interrupted, glaring glumly at the large ork.

"We put the cow at the edge of our territory." The brun explained impatiently. "To serve as a warning to the sorcerer and his minions that we are not to be trifled with. We're almost there."

Silence fell over the small group as they traveled. Kai fidgeted impatiently in his saddle, anxious to collect the tarin's remains and head back home again, but he could not force their guide to go any faster. Beside him, the wood elf sighed in boredom as she felt similar desires.

"There it is, just ahead of us now." The brun stated suddenly, pulling Kai's attention to the ground ahead. A thick wooden rack grew up out of the infertile ground. Even in the fading light of evening, the rack loomed its threat in the distance, the pockmarked wood testament of hard use.

Kai felt a shiver run down his back and urged his horse forward past the ork. "Let's get the body and get out of here." The horse snorted unhappily as it trotted closer to the device of torment, ears pulling back tight against its skull. Afraid the war horse would shy away and try to throw him, Kai slowed it down to a walk and kept the reigns gripped tightly in his hands.

"Something doesn't feel right." Ryllae said from behind him, waiting beside the ork. "It's too easy."

The brun grunted in annoyance but said nothing. Unable to urge his horse any closer, Kai finally dismounted and began walking over to the the rack on foot. As he rounded it and looked up, a deep frown creased his face. "You know, Rylle, lately I have begun to I hate it when you're right."

"Sometimes, I am too." Ryllae replied, making no move to come closer. "What's wrong with the body?"

"Other than the fact that it's not here, absolutely nothing." Kai replied, bending down to inspect a patch of ground that had caught his eye. He plucked up a pair of daggers and blew the dust off of them. After a moment he held them up for his companions to see. "No tracks either. Just these."

The brun gave another unhappy grunt but offered no further response. Ryllae scowled and let out a weary sigh. "Either someone beat us here, or she wasn't quite as dead as everyone thought. The gods preserve us all if that's the case."

"The gods are dead." The brun spoke, his voice a rumble of thunder in the weighted silence. His eyes shifted to stare pointedly at Kai."They were killed by the humans during the Great War. We are all on our own here."

Taiyra opened her eyes slowly. The shivering of her body was beginning to subside for the first time since it came on. She felt as if she had been fighting the fever for days instead of mere hours. Raising a weak hand, she wiped away the gummy residue of dried tears that sealed her eyelids closed, then lay still, drained from the meager effort.

"You must be thirsty." It was an observation, not an offer.

The druid slowly tilted her head in the direction of the voice. She had to blink several times before her eyes would finally focus on the naked doe a few feet away. Light and shadows danced across the doe's pelt as she tended a small fire. At first Taiyra assumed she was hallucinating as she tried to remember where she was and why she was ill. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a soft croak came out.

"Excuse you." The other doe said in a bored tone, her head still turned away as she tossed a handful of something into the flames.

The druid licked her lips. Her tongue felt swollen and dry in her mouth. Grit stuck to some of her teeth, making her wince. "Who... Who are you?" She asked, her voice soft and cracked like her lips.

The other doe finally turned to look at her, ears folded in annoyance. Her glowing eyes narrowed to mere slits. The memory of the MidKnight returned to Taiyra like a slap to the face. "Now you care about who I am?" The MidKnight snapped irritably.

"Yes..." Taiyra croaked. Her throat burned raw and she had to fight to keep her eyes open against the sting of the weak firelight.

The doe snorted again, her upper lip curling in a disgusted sneer. Turning away again, she said "My name is Nadirah."

"Nadirah?" Taiyra whispered, not wanting to close her eyes but rapidly losing the strength to keep them open. "That's an odd name for a tarin."

"I don't recall asking your opinion about it." Nadirah replied coldly. Suddenly Nadirah lifted something from beside the flames and tossed it in Taiyra's direction.

The druid closed her eyes and tucked her head, expecting the sting of a rock or some weapon the other had managed to find, but there was only a soft thump. Opening her eyes, the druid saw the charred body of some small animal. "What-"

"It's a reebird. But you can pretend it's whatever you want. I really don't care." Nadirah cut her off. "I'm hoping if you stuff your mouth with it you'll shut the hell up."

The smell of cooked flesh repelled the druid and made her stomach turn sour. Turning her head away, she closed her eyes again. She was weak, but her strength would come back in time. Although her fever-racked body longed for food and sustenance would help her recover faster, eating the reebird would only make her illness worsen. Chewing sounds reached her ears a moment later. The MidKnight was eating. "I haven't turned."

"If you can't roll over, then that's your problem." Came the muffled response, the MidKnight hardly bothering to pause in her meal as she responded.

A surprised smile pulled at Taiyra's lips. The doe's behavior was certainly not what she expected from one of the unliving. Despite her rude demeanor and the earlier bite, the druid did not feel threatened by the MidKnight. "I meant I haven't turned into one of you." She croaked. "If you're... waiting for me to turn... I won't." As she finished the last word she began to pant, the effort of speaking robbing her of breath.

"The fact that I am waiting here has nothing to do with you. There happens to be a sandstorm outside." Nadirah replied, tossing a handful of tiny bones into the flames. "And this damn cave you found is, unfortunately, the best place for miles to wait it out. Despite the unpleasant company."

Taiyra twisted her ears, listening past her own labored breathing and the crackle of the small fire. After a few seconds she finally caught the faint howl of wind and the hollow pelting of sand against rock. Relaxing, she closed her eyes and waited for her strength to return. The wound to her arm throbbed dully but she knew that it too would heal soon enough.

With faith that the MidKnight would not harm her, the druid fell into a deep healing sleep.

The storm was taking far too long for Nadirah's liking. She wanted to be away from the chatty druid and farther still from those she was sure Malthamus would send to pursue her. The druid, while annoying, seemed harmless enough. Tossing another handful of torn bandages into the fire, she sighed and glanced back out of the entrance of the small cave.

The wind was beginning to die down, but not enough to be safe. A glance over her shoulder told her that the druid was asleep again. If luck was on her side, Nadirah thought, she would be long gone before the pest woke again.

"Sun." Came a soft mutter from behind her. "Mamma. Sun." Nadirah did not bother to look at the sleeping druid. She was used to her strange mutterings and assumed it was caused by the fever dreams. Over and over again she had repeated the same two words until the MidKnight had ceased to notice anymore.

"Wait for her to turn." Nadirah muttered bitterly to herself. "If I wanted a pet I would have become a beastlord by now." She glanced at a small pile of ripped bandages that she had not yet burned. "Maybe I should just kill her anyway. Make sure she doesn't come after me again."

Before she had time to consider it further, the wind finally died and the storm passed as quickly as it had come. Without looking back, the MidKnight rose and hurried outside to disappear into the barren desert.

Ro'Gald grunted irritably as he swatted the air before him. The biting insects of the waste could rarely penetrate an ork's thick skin, but they were still annoying when flying into the eyes or buzzing in the ears.

The human and wood elf had long since been sent on their way. His hyolf had been released to join the others in their nightly hunt, unlikely to return until morning. Whether or not the pair of travelers were on the menu was of little concern to the bored brun. Not that Ro'gald wouldn't allow himself a small smile if he were to see his hyolf gnawing the leg of a horse come dawn.

After another glance into the darkness brought him no new threats, he grunted again and closed his eyes to lose himself in daydreams. It was terribly unfair that he had not only had to escort the pair of uppity interlopers but then also had to guard against the possibility of the MidKnight's return. The tarin was dead. He himself had staked up her cold corpse with his own daggers. The undead king himself could not have brought her back again. But that was not enough for Rawna, the commander of the fort.

He wished he was in his bed, wrapped up in his warm blankets of kentaur hide. If he were in charge, he would have dismembered the tarin and make her skull into his new drinking mug. There would be no need for a guard against a dismembered corpse. Not for the first time, he wondered why he had not been put in charge in the first place. He was son of the great Kelrom Axeslayer, strongest of his siblings and had more scars than anyone else in the fort. His qualification spoke for itself.

Ro'gald bared his teeth in a silent snarl as he imagined himself approaching Rawna and striking her down to claim her position for himself. Perhaps he would even show her mercy and make her his messenger instead of simply killing her. Lost in his daydream of triumph, he failed to hear the soft footfalls approaching him. He was unaware that he had any company at all until he felt strong fingers closing around his throat.

By reflex, the brun reached one hand up to claw at the hand choking him while his other arm swung back and around to strike at his attacker. His hand connected with something solid and he heard a pained grunt, but it took another strike before the grip around his neck loosened and a third before it fell away completely.

Snarling, Ro'gald spun around to face the one who would dare to assault him and was surprised to find a nude tarin standing before him. Her head was down and she clutched her side, but he recognized the MidKnight immediately. "Impossible!" He exclaimed, wondering if it was a hallucination or illusion borne of his daydream.

"I was hoping not to get any blood on that fancy armor of yours." The doe grumbled, lifting her head to glare at him. Her eyes glowed brightly in the night while offering no illumination. "But I suppose you are going to make that difficult for me, aren't you. Although I wouldn't call it impossible."

"How are you still alive?!" The brun demanded, ignoring her taunt.

The MidKnight smirked and flicked an ear mockingly. "You stupid green blood. I'm not alive."

Ro'gald roared at her words and launched himself at the injured doe, his fists connecting solidly against her body and sending her stumbling backwards. The brun pressed forward, never letting up or giving the doe a chance to fight back as she received blow after blow. Finally, with a butt of his head, he sent the MidKnight sprawling to the ground. "You should have stayed dead then, worthless cow." He spat, reaching for his war hammer. "Now I'm going to have to get your dirty blood all over my nice, clean, fancy armor."

The doe groaned she she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. She swayed slightly, her arms trembling as if they could barely stand to hold her weight. Ro'gald smiled to himself. It seemed he would get the chance to use the MidKnight's skull as his cup after all. After he tossed the tarin's head at Rawna's feet and demanded his reward. Raising his war hammer high above his head, he swung it with all of his might, aiming for the doe's chest, hoping to avoid breaking his precious trophy. A smashed skull could hold no ale.

The hammer struck home and sent the MidKnight sailing backwards into the night. To his surprise, however, as the doe fell to the ground, her body disintegrated into a cloud of smoke. Ro'gald was confused. She had never disappeared before. Was it really that easy, he wondered, or was this just some sort of trick.

"What's wrong? You're not going to sound the alarm on me this time?" The doe's voice suddenly came from behind him. "Not going to call in your reinforcements, green blood? Or are you still going to claim your glory for killing an unarmed opponent all by yourself?"

The ork snarled and spun around to face her, swinging his hammer along with him. "There will be plenty of honor when I tear your head from your shoulders. There will be no second chances for you when I'm done!" The vibrations ran up his arms and shook his very bones as the hammer struck another solid blow, but instead of blood, a blast of black fire rose like sparks from the hammer's end, winking out of existence after a mere moment's life.

The MidKnight not only remained standing, but she was untouched by the weapon. It rested gently against her fur as if it weighed no more than a feather. She stared down at the ork in smug victory. At that moment, Ro'gald realized that she had been playing with him the entire time. He was no threat to the undead creature before him. The entire fort together would be no more than a mere nuisance to the glowing-eyed monster.

"There it is." She said with the tone of one tasting something delicious. "You didn't even know you were afraid until just... this... moment." Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, letting it out in a breathy sigh. Pleasure began to course through her body, washing away aches and pains so constant that she had ceased to notice them anymore. "Do you still crave that honor, green blood?" She asked in a breathy voice.

"Surrender now and I'll give you a swift death." Ro'gald replied. He reaffirmed his grip on his hammer and pulled it back over his shoulder, taking a few steps back and away from the doe. His death stared back at him with cold and hungry eyes. Terror had turned his blood to ice, but acceptance of his end came like a warm blanket to chase away the chill.

The MidKnight's expression softened into a pleased smile. The smugness fell away and was replaced by a look of compassion. "You do your people proud, ork." She said softly.

Baring his teeth, Ro'gald let out a furious roar and charged, swinging down his weapon as hard as he could in one final attempt to destroy the evil that faced him. The doe's hand snaked up faster than he could follow with his eyes, grabbing his throat and choking off his war cry. The hammer went flying into the darkness and disappeared from sight as she lifted him from the ground, his feet kicking as they desperately sought purchase. "You fought well enough." She whispered, her voice bordering on tenderness. "May your soul find it's rest." As the MidKnight's fingers closed in to crush his throat, the simple prayer was to be the last words Ro'Gald would ever hear.

When Nadirah was satisfied that the ork was dead, she dropped him to the ground and blew out a hard breath. "That took far too much energy." She complained, her ears drooping in exhaustion. I hope I still have enough left."

Bending over, she took a few more gasping breaths before quickly sorting through the dead ork's possessions. He carried very little of value on him and she settled for several of the better pieces of his armor. She stripped him and quickly slipped into the items that would fit her, then looked around for the lost weapon

The war hammer was small even for orkish use and was dwarfed further by her own size, so she rejected it. Content with her plunder, the doe grabbed the ork's foot and dragged the body behind her as she slunk closer to the fort.

The refuse pile towered high with the discarded remains of the death feast. She wished the ork had carried a dagger as she stared over the pile of bones and rotting flesh. With a sigh, she lifted the corpse and gave it one final glance before tossing it onto the pile. Raising her hand, she pricked her finger on the tip of one horn then flung out her fingers to allow the drops of her blood to fall to the body. "I claim your dead." She said in a bored voice.

The corpse began to shiver before sinking into the pile of bones as if they were made of quicksand. The doe watched impassively as an arm jutted up through the gore a few seconds later. The orkish arm flailed and grasped at the air several times as if the owner was drowning in the dust. The ork's face pushed through next, it's eyes wide and unseeing, mouth opening and closing in muted screams. It took several more seconds before the nightmarish abomination rose from the refuse pile, shaking off a clinging coat of bones, rotting hide and other filth.

The monstrous creature wore the dead ork's face upside down like a grisly mask. Misshapen limbs of exposed muscle and bone supported a patchworked body of ork and hyolf hide. The golem stepped free of the mound and moved to stand placidly before its master.

"It will do." Nadirah muttered and climbed atop it. "Now to get out of here before his replacement shows up. If any of Malthamus' scouts come looking for me, these idiots will know how to handle them."