A multi-story

[loulabelle]

A revolving story where anyone can write the next part. Who knows how far this will get, thanks to Burt for the inspiration! I guess anything goes but to avoid losing all steam too quickly, if someone important dies perhaps someone/something else needs to be introduced. A word limit might be a good idea but eh… If this is a crappy start, that’s okay, its just what came out my fingers and someone else can start if they wish. Its also not humourous, but it could get humourous? I’ll stop talking now

-----------------------

The stormy sky obscured the stars in a mixture of swirling purples and greys. The wind blew in strong gusts that nearly knocked the silhouetted figures over as they struggled to walk up the hillside. Tashita looked up at the sky from beneath her dark hood and gave practiced thanks once again for this perfect night. The sounds of wind and brewing storm silenced the screams from the woman the others were carrying up to the hilltop. No She corrected herself in her mind sharply. She remembered the words of her mother, she was leading the procession. She had instructed Tashita not to think of them as people. They were heretics, non believers and as such, they were non-people. She looked ahead, her mother stood, a proud priestess, at the head of wavering line. The air was electric with anticipation for the event ahead. The wind dropped and the night air was pierced with a scream. The priestess looked back annoyed and barked an instruction to her congregation.
“Cut out its tongue, silence it!”

Tashita felt eyes upon her and a silver dagger was thrust into her hand. She looked around at the pairs of eyes watching her. The wind blew a hard gust again and momentarily revealed hungry smiles. She realised this was a test of sorts and watched as the procession stopped… for her and her task at hand. Her first such ritual, this should be an honour… shouldn’t it? The woman No! Non-person! was held down to make it easier for young acolyte and she stepped towards her. Tashita looked down and into the dark pleading eyes. The body was already bruised and cut and its end was in sight. This should be easy… shouldn’t it? She knelt by the woman and raised the dagger.

A voice, seemed to come from the very sky over her head. She looked up and the clouds parted blinding her in purest white moonlight. It called her name.

Tashita…

She looked around, waiting eyes with ebbing patience. Perhaps they could not see as she could.

Tashita…

It does not have to be this way…

O beautiful voice, it filled her dark heart with light and replaced her hate with happiness. She looked down at the woman then back up to the impatient faces. She rose, standing tall. The moonlight… or… whatever it was empowered her and she soaked it up greedily. She gripped the dagger tightly between her numb fingers as the wind whipped stray strands of hair across her face.

No… it doesn’t have to be this way.

[Mikayla]

Laying hidden in the tall grass along the slope of the hill, Evric watched Tashita, knife in hand, look up to the cloudy sky above. Reflexively, he looked where she looked though he knew full well that he would see nothing. The celestial that was now speaking to Tashita would be showing her light from above, but it was a vision only the celestial’s target could see. Evric knew this because he was the one who had summoned the celestial and told it what to do. It was all a part of his plan to stop the sacrifice Tashita's mother had planned.

Evric had learned of the intended sacrifice too late to assemble a force strong enough to save the victim by strength of arms, so he had to rely on cunning. As a priest of the Morninglord he was relatively familiar with celestials and their power; and he was familiar with evil. Evil, at least in humans, elves, dwarves and halflings, was usually weak when tested. People were good by nature; people usually did evil because evil had been done to them. A person labeled as evil could often be turned to good simply by doing something good for them. Evric’s plan hinged, in part, upon this concept. The summoned celestial had been told to approach the daughter, not the mother. The mother, though a priestess, could certainly be turned from the dark, but such a task would take far more time than Evric had. The daughter, however, might be more quickly brought into the light. For everyone's sake, Evric prayed he was right.

As Tashita looked down at the knife in her hand Evric knew that the celestial’s message had been sent and its spell had been cast. What the young woman would do, he did not know. All he knew was that he had to move quickly to save the victim’s life. It was risky, but Evric was no stranger to risk. Bringing light into the darkness, with as much mercy as possible, was Evirc’s passion. Evric rolled onto his side and looked at the man laying next to him. It was time to begin the next phase of this rather hastily prepared rescue attempt. If all went well, no one would be killed; not the intended victim, not the young woman, not even the priestess. Evric wanted no bloodshed. Better to move slowly and save a soul than move quickly and end a life, as his mentor had often said. Still, there was little time and much risk. Evric had done his best to devise a plan that would not get anyone killed or hurt, but he was not the master of fate. There was always risk. And no matter the risk, now was his moment to act. Without further hesitation, Evric spoke to the man next to him and put the next phase of his rescue plan into action.

[Rumple C]

Her mother turned and glared back at her errant daughter. Hissing words poured into her ear from Fala her underling.
"She wavers! she cannot do it! she isn’t worthy!" These words burnt at her ear and pride. Snarling and pushing past Fala the high priestess and mother of Tashita advanced growling upon her daughter who stood almost slack jawed gaping upwards.

Her mother grabbed at the knife in Tashitas hand meaning to cut out the tongue of the mewling sacrifice. Tashitas hand refused to give up the knife, her head still upturned gazing upon the night above. Again the mother contested the strength of her daughters hand, whilst all around sycophants and sacrifices alike looked on with alternate amazement, disgust or incredulity.

The mother lost her grip with a savage tug, her hand slippery with sweat. She pulled away looking down at her hand.

Blood ran down the blade where she had been cut. It ran down the knife and onto the fingers of Tashita.

Tashita slowly turned her gaze from the heavans and looked down at the blood of her mother.

[Burt]

A second arrow swiftly followed the first, slamming with brutal force and unerring accuracy into the chest of Shar's high priestess. Death was painless, death was absolute. Tashita watched her mother fall backwards as though submerged beneath the ocean. The melee ensuing around her as blades collided with dark prayers was unimportant. For just a moment Tashita understood the serenity of loss - then mortality dragged her back into the present without compassion.

"To me!" the former acolyte Fala was yelling in vain against the sounds of battle.

Several armoured figures had ambushed the procession, cutting through heavy robes and flesh alike. Their advantage had been obvious to begin with, but Fala's quick acknowledgement of the situation had saved a majority of the priests from their ends. Tashita could see plainly things were about to take a bad turn for the armoured group. She knelt by her dead mother's side amidst the chaos of the battle and whispered an earnest farewell.

Glancing from the intended sacrifice to Fala, and then to the armoured attackers, Tashita reached for the spell scroll in the case at her hip. The parchment crackled warmly as she read aloud. Magic tingled through her flesh, forcing her eyes shut in a moment of pure ecstasy.

Tashita opened her eyes. Her choice was made.

[loulabelle]

Evric stared horrified at the ensuing slaughter. His hands found his hair and then his cheeks, sliding down his expression of disbelief.
"No!" He cried unheard. "There needn't have been any bloodshed" He felt he had failed. True, the sacrifice was thwarted, but at what price did the victory against a darkness have to come at? His head bowed and stared at the ground. It was muddy, at last the rain the sky had threatened for so long was falling.

Evric opened his eyes and saw two feet. Familiar feet, clad in heavy metal armour. He raised his head and looked up to see a helmed man. Lightning illuminated the figure and thunder drowned out his name as Evric spoke it. He felt something, he looked down. A blade and it was pressed against his chest. He looked down at the blade as his loyal friend twirled it, tip grating against metal. A creaking as a helm lifted.
"You are a fool Evric. And worse than that, you are naive" He spat at Evric's armour and the man closed his eyes by reflex momentarily. The friend continued, shouting over the storm. "You truly believed there could be no bloodshed here? Do you know who these people are?" His tone was hard and belittling, yet partly surprised. "They're damn Sharrans you fool and you wished to save them. For that I can show you no mercy..."

The helm snapped shut with a bang and the blade disappeared. Evric looked up.
"Stefan...." He pleaded without much hope in his voice as the man moved his blade out to the side, preparing to strike. The loyal friend who had not an hour ago stood by Evric's side as they hid and watched Tashita entranced by her light.

Neither had noticed the sounds of battle were ceased. Neither noticed a lone figure walk towards them. It was holding something.

"Evric?" Tashita said, in a voice different to her own.

[Mikayla]

“Don’t come any closer.” Evric held his right hand out to Tashita, palm up, in warning. Stefan, his vision contrained by the heavy helm he wore, pivoted to see who Evric was warning. Evric saw the opportunity presented in that moment and acted quickly.

“Lathander hold you.” Evric prayed, reaching out with his left hand to touch Stefan’s armor. The warrior froze in place. Evric stepped up and deftly pulled the man’s helmet off. “You are a grave disappointment to me Stefan. Though you profess to be good, today you are a murderer, little different from the Sharrans whose blood now stains this hillside.” He spared Tashita a glance. “Sadly, few will see it that way. For the moment, I am afraid I will have to spare myself from the edge of your mis-placed wrath.” Without further ado, Evric smashed Stefan in the head with the man’s own helmet. The magically held warrior shuddered but remained standing. Evric smashed him again and Stefan’s eyes rolled up in his head. Grunting with effort, Evric pried the sword from Stefan’s hand and ran to Tashita.

Tashita stood still as Evric approached. Her eyes were glazed over, her arms limp. “Evric, what are you doing here?” She did not wait for an answer. She looked over her shoulder to where the procession had been. “I killed my mother.” Her voice was flat. Evric could tell that she was in shock.

“No time for regrets Tashita. Stefan will wake soon and others will come. Besides, it was the arrows that killed her. I saw what you did during the fight. I know you are not evil. I know you tried to do the right thing, but at this moment, fools like Stefan rule this hillside. Fools who think that good deeds are bloody deeds and light can be achieved through killing. They will not care that you did the right thing when the knife was placed in your hands. All they will care about is that you were among the Sharrans when this started. We must go. Now.”

He scanned the dark hillside seeking a path off the battlefield past as few people as possible. Bloodshed had not been avoided, but the sacrifice planned by the religious fanatics had been thwarted. Now, Evric was determined to make sure that another group of religious fanatics, his group, did not commit their own wrongful execution. He had to get Tashita to safety and let the tempers of the others cool. Evric saw what he thought was the safest route. He grabbed up Tashita’s hands and pulled her along. “Come, we must run!” She came, but she came slowly at first. He pulled hard and she began to move faster. A moment later she was running with him and they were moving quickly across the hillside. Evric smiled. Some good, at least, would be done this day.

As they crested a ridge branching off the hill, Evric saw a figure looming ahead. Nothing ever goes according to plan, Evric thought to himself. Silently, he began to pray to the Morninglord for dawn to break.

[Rumple C]

Alas for Evric, dawn was hours away at the least. The night still ruled as did what was left of the sharrans. Between the swirling combatants the night condensed and took form, sliding hands through metal and straight into the bodies of the lathanderites. They died in agony.

Fala and a dozen of her supporters and twice as many shadows stood over the dead. She now wore the dagger that marked her as favoured and had taken the circlet the high priestess wore. Such were the trappings of power in their group.

Fala pointed in two directions. "Shadows follow" indicating the fleeing pair of Evric and Tashita. "Flesh, follow me" she spoke making long strides followed by what she thought of now as her underlings. She came and stood before Stefan, noting the dark bruises on his forehead. She invoked the power of Shar, holding him again in a grip of her own making.

"Open his mouth" she commanded and watched as sharrans left and right struggled with his muscular jaw and little leverage. Eventually a mace was used to shatter his jaw at the hinges. It hung loosely distorted by otherwise rigid muscles, his tongue exposed. Fala cut it out. Stefan was aware by then which only delighted Fala more. He was bound, and his weapons removed, now property of the sharrans.

Further away a unfaithful and youthful priestess ran on in the company of a moderate and experienced champion of Lathander.

And the condensed night followed.

[AcadiusLost]

The air seemed to crackle as an unfelt wind furled the cloak of the lone figure standing in Evric's path. Instinctually, he drew Tashita behind him protectively, hand going to the ornate mace hanging from his belt.

"Foolish, shortsighted, and dangerously so." A flash of flickering light from around the hill illuminated the face of the man, arms folded in the wide sleeves of his nearly black crimson robes. Tashita turned to see the source of the light, a column of flame fading from the sky, the agonized scream of a man fading away... a strange chill passed through her, almost of exhileration, and she knew it was an answered prayer to the Lady that had called it into deadly being. How long had Fala kept her power hidden from the others? None but Tashita's mother had wielded such power, or so they had believed.

"Parenthar never should have placed you in charge of this little excursion. I told him such, and when he would not give, I resolved to see for myself. "

Evric's hand eased from his mace, and his attention turned for a moment over to the sounds of battle over the hill. He glanced to Tashita and was shaken by what almost seemed a half-smile on her otherwise vacant face as she watched and listened. Surely, just residual bliss from her words with the Celestial. Evric turned back to the mage, irritated.

"How could I have known they would not heed my commands, Vyshan? You can't hold me responsible for that... I had a plan!"

"Have you seen what is transpiring over there? The Sharrans have rallied and conjured creatures of shadows- rather than staying to help and heal the injured, you've fled with this one... and sealed Stefan's fate in the process. Even now..."

The mage stiffened a moment, then a stream of arcane syllables tore from his mouth, hurried but exacting as his hands emerged from his sleeves. A half-second later the entire area exploded into blinding light. Evric turned away, shielding his eyes and hearing the inhuman screams of the four shadows that had been bearing down on them, being driven back from the circle of light, their insubstantial forms dissolving under the conjured energy.

"Luckily some of us need not pray for dawn to bring light. Though I wonder if the morninglord heeds the prayers of one who leaves his comrades to the darkness as you have done." Vyshan's head turned suddedly in the direction of the battle. "Doubtless they have seen that, and will be coming, and fast. Your conduct this day will not be forgotten, Evric." The mage's hand moved like lightning drawing a component from his sleeve, and in a instant he was gone.

"Vyshan, wait..." Too late. Evric took Tashita by the arm to draw her from her daze as hurried footsteps bore down on them.

[PensivesWetness]

Off the beaten path (9Dec05 1:44 Pm Local)

The pair of chipper gophers watched the goings on and battles and aguements of the Man named Evric [and his charge, Tashita] and what not with mild interest while they gathered their nuts for the winter..

Mac: [Talk] [Syl] Did you see that?

Tosh: [Talk] [Syl] See what, dear friend? *holding a handful of nuts in his palms*

Mac: [Talk] [Syl] The Wizard man. He was there, then he was gone! like a Poff!

Tosh: [Talk] [Syl] What Man? All i do see is Nuts. Nuts. Nuts. It would be charitable for you to help with these Nuts, you know?

Mac: [Talk] [Syl] *sighs* Oh dear. Do forgive me. I often get excited when i witness strange events occuring just beyond out door step, you know, dear.

Tosh: [Talk] [Syl] *nods as he turns towards thier home* It's really no trouble at all. Truely it is not.

Mac: [Talk] [Syl] For certain?

Tosh: [Talk] [Syl] Oh in dubidly, dear. In dubidly.

[loulabelle]

The ground was cold and hard. So was the air, but it tasted good as she gasped in a breath. Things were hazy... there had been a priestess,

Cut out its tongue! Silence it!

The words rang in her ears as slowly the memories came back. There had been a girl, well too old to be a girl yet too young to be called a woman, perhaps sixteen? There had been a fight, a scuffle, a knife, blood. She looked down at her ragged dress, bloodstains on it. But not hers. People had shown up, lots of them, arrows fighting... She blinked remembering pain. There had been pain, someone had run her through with a sword. Quickly she gathered her dress up, unashamed as she revealed bare flesh beneath. A scar cut up her midsection. And no blood. She frowned. After the pain there had been blackness. Until now.

She looked around, the air was still and quiet, the storm had blown itself out. She was surrounded by death, the smell of blood was suffocating. Uneasily she pushed herself to her feet and brushed long tangled hair from her eyes. Men... and women all around her. Some bore the long dark robes, now shredded and stained with dried blood. Others wore a golden armour, puntured and ruined. She felt a rush of nausea and turned away from the grisly scene.

Her legs wobbled weakly and threatened to collapse under her so she made herself walk. Her mind was a frenzy, so many thoughts. She had been dead, she must have! Again she looked at the scar, it seemed less red, more healed.
"That's impossible..." She murmured to the dead air. But it was clear, she had been killed, but not as intended... she knew her fate was meant as a sacrifice. Someone had saved her, but why... and more disturbingly, who?

She walked.

Fala stumbled briefly as she and her followers hiked through the hillside.
"M'lady!" One of them, a faceless no-one, too keen to gain favour rushed to aid her. She slapped his face and recoiled.
"Do not touch me" She said in a dangerous sultry tone. She had felt something and manic smile drifted across her face. A message, from the Lady.
"She's alive" Fala whispered barely able to contain her excitment. The hooded figures exchanged subtle glances before looking back to their fledgling priestess. Finally one of them spoke up, asked if they should return to the battle site.
"No..." Fala breathed her eyes alight with anticipation. "I can feel it... we go on!" She rubbed her hands together, "It is all falling into place" she added to no-one in particular.

She swivelled on her heel and marched on. The followers glanced at each other exchanging silent expressions. They were feeling more than a little anxious as they dutifully followed Fala due East, directly towards the sunrise only hours away.

[Mikayla]

Evric and Tashita collapsed into a pile of damp, moldy hay and caught their breaths. They had found shelter in a stone barn house near the outskirts of the village. The damp weather and poor roof of the barn left it wet but unoccupied at the moment.

"That wizard, he was your friend?" Tashita asked between heaving breaths.

"Yes, Vyshaan is his name."

"He mentioned the Morninglord. He said your running away would be remembered." Her voice trembled a bit.

Evric smiled wryly. "Vyshaan is, pardon my language, a pompous ass." He brushed green hay from Tashita's hair. "The wizard likes to think he runs the temple and its followers. Don't worry about him. The comrades I left behind were already dead or running, save for Stefan, and it was Stefan's blood-lust that ruined our plan and sent so many to their deaths." Evric took a long breath and looked around the barn. Low stone divides jutted from walls forming dark, empty stalls.

"What do we do now?" Tashita asked, now returning Evric's favor by brushing hay out of his hair.

Evric lowered his eyes and toyed with a long strand of hay as he thought. "We wait. We wait until dawn. The Sharrans are like cochroaches; they will hide from the light."

Gently Tashita began to wipe at Evric's face. "You have blood on you."

The priest looked up at the would-be Sharran with sad eyes. "I did not want it this way."

Her eyes were full of compassion and perhaps, something else. Evric opened his mouth to speak again but with a soft rustle of silk and hay Tashita leaned in close and kissed him. For the first time this night, Evric stopped praying for the dawn to come.

[heletari]

"You did what?"

The ancient oak chair placed on the high dais gave an audible groan as the grip of the young king tightened upon the scrollwork. As had been his custom since the day that his father fell, Parenthar was standing behind the throne rather than sitting upon it. Somehow, the symbolic gesture served to increase his stature rather than diminish it. Already it had given rise to a nickname; the Restless King, the people called him.

"They were no longer in any real danger, my leige," Vyshan said smoothly. His voice was conciliatory, but from his vantage point at the King's shoulder Gorric saw the mage shift uneasily within his robes and his composure did not last. "I dispelled the shades that were tracking them, and the Sharran bitch was too eager to get back to their temple with Stefan's... Stefan's..." He paused, and Gorric realised for the first time that the man's hands were shaking. He had time to wonder if it was grief or anger that made him shake so, before Vyshan answered that unspoken question for himself. "If I had not had to tend to that... slut..." This last word stressed so hard that a little fleck of spit shot from Vyshan's lips and landed a hair from the King's boot, "I could have spirited Stefan away. Our bravest warrior and my own nephew, torn to pieces because of Evric's foolishness and lust! Even now the two of them..."

"I see," Parenthar's voice was cold and fell from his lips like a slab of lead. "You did well in saving Cara's life. No matter what you think of her, I would not have anyone of the Line sacrificed to further Shar's dark aims. And as for Evric's lust... I wondered why it had taken you two hours to come to me, Vyshan. You have been watching him with the girl in your scrying mirror, have you not?" Gorric had heard that tone only one before, and had to fight back the urge to step away from his master. Could he intervene now? Should he? Would the King even listen to his little barber at such a time?

[Rumple C]

Evric lay on the soft hay, spent utterly. His eyes closed, barely dressed, and breathing reguarly. Tashita softly moved to gather her own clothes. She knew they would come for her, and her only. She dressed in darkness, pausing only to clean the fluids that ran down her leg when she stood. She carried his child now. She could feel it. Indeed she willed it.

She eased herself out the barn door, and fled as quickly as possible. Back towards where the battle occured.

Through barely open eyes Evric watched her leave.

[loulabelle]

Evric started to lift his head as the barn door swung almost closed with Tashita’s exit. He felt unusually woolly headed and tried to move his hand to touch his face. It felt as though it were made of lead. He tried to speak and found he could not. His mind however, stayed active and he tried to comprehend what was wrong with his body.

“She drugged you” Spoke an unfamiliar voice. Evric could not move his head to see the speaker and she stayed out of his sight. He tried to talk and could only utter thick disconnected syllables as his tongue rolled in his mouth uselessly.
“Don’t try to talk…” Words interrupted by laughter, fluid and icy. “Or do try… I could care less either way.” Evric heard footsteps; the woman was walking around the back of his head on the bare floorboards. Her tone became lighter as though she and old friend were enjoying a chat,
“You’re special you see Evric… not that you knew of course. Too busy wasting your time caring and worrying about other people. You failed to see yourself…” More footsteps moving back in the other direction. She was pacing. “Too late now for you to do anything about it. I suppose you want to know why you’re drugged…” The footsteps stopped and he heard an odd slapping sound high above and behind his head. For the first time he began to feel fear, not because of this woman, but for what she was going to say. He realised he did not want to hear how Tashita had betrayed him; he would rather die in blissful ignorance. She began to speak again.

“Tashita drugged you because she believes it is for the best. She believes it is her who is in danger, wanted and sought.” Evric could hear the cruel smile in the woman’s voice as she took delight in telling this story.
“She is right… in a way. But her reasons for doing this to you were planned and in some sense controlled. The idea was… shall we say planted in her mind.” He heard the footsteps again as the woman strode and stood between him and the door. The dawn had finally come and pale sunlight streamed in between the door and its frame. She became a formidable black silhouette. He realised what had been making the slapping noise; the overly large dagger she held in her right hand.
“Tashita has a destiny and a purpose. So have you…” The woman laughed again, chilling Evric’s mind. She knelt down and straddled the paralysed young man. Her voice dropped to a slow seductive whisper as she spoke words with false sympathy…
“But Evric… I am afraid I am telling you a lie… You had a purpose. And like all men…” Her voice took a crueler and more disgusted tone. “You fulfilled it… admirably”

With a swift movement she drove her dagger between Evric’s legs. Whatever drug Tashita had used, it had numbed his motions, but not his senses. Evric barely shook, but his mind screamed with the explosion of agony and tears rolled from the corners of his barely open eyes. He could feel the hot blood gush down his legs and soak into the straw around him. He had been injured in battle before but it was nothing compared to this. This was surreal pain. Slowly he registered her frigid laughter again.
“I think I’ll not slit your throat after all Evric… This is too much entertainment.”

Evric almost choked on his limp tongue as he felt her withdraw the dagger and plunge it into his crotch again. She twisted it and mercifully he lost consciousness. The woman’s eyes flickered as she watched. She pulled her dagger free from the bleeding wounds and wiped it clean on Evric’s hair. She walked to the door and opened it. Golden sunlight filled the room and bathed Evric in its glow. The woman laughed at the irony for Evric to bleed to his death bathed in the light of the sun and walked back to his side. She watched as the pool of blood grew around Evric’s legs and his breathing became shallower; until it stopped altogether. She smiled cruelly at her job well done; no chances taken. With an abrupt motion she swiveled and hurried to the door; her black and purple robes flapped around her ankles.

And then she was gone.

[heletari]

In the Palace of Souls, the little barber Gorric slipped up the spiral stair to Vyshan's tower room as softly as a cat. The walls were dry and flaky with cracked render, but the steps were treacherous with some noxious slime. Gorric thought the stuff was probably a summons wrought by the mage, but it did not matter; Gorric had a few surprises of his own, and his surefoot boots were one of them. Of all the many people in the palace, the only people who knew of Gorric's past were Parenthar, his jilly-girl Kajira, and Gorric himself... although sometimes he wished he could forget.

At the final twist of the stair the door came into view, and Gorric stopped with surprise to find it slightly ajar. The mage was still in the audience chamber, waiting for the King to return; Gorric's intervention had bought the mage a two-hour stay of judgement, for he had counselled the King to wait for his blood to cool before acting. However, Gorric had his own reasons for counselling so, for here was the mage's chamber open and unguarded. Vyshan had no intention of helping Cara any further; he had made that only too clear in his outburst before the King. If there was any hope of aiding the King's ward further, it would be up here, far above the heads of the great and the good. Gorric reached out to push the door wider...

...No. The words of Tor, his tutor in the Silent Arts, drifted back to him over the years. Do not see what others wish you to see, little cat. See what they wish you not to see. He withdrew his hand, closed his eyes, and cleared his mind.

Six turns since the Whispering Gallery, he thought. Six complete turns? Difficult to tell with no arrow slits this far up, but he thought so. So he was facing... east, away from the tower room, not towards it. He opened his eyes, and regarded the door once again. Gingerly, he extended his torch and pushed the door with its tip.

Without a single sound, the torch was ripped from his grip and sucked away into who knew where. There was no noise at all and no sign of the torch's light, but in his mind's eye Gorric saw the torch falling, falling through the flat grey light of dawn to shatter on the cobblestones of the Knight's Concourse, a hundred feet below. He shuddered. He was alone, in complete darkness.

A dry chuckle in his imagination; Tor's voice again. All the better, little cat. Now that your eyes cannot see, your eyes cannot be deceived. The door must be... behind you. And with that thought, Gorric sensed the warmth of the secret door he had missed three steps below him, and turned.