"Are you alright?" asked Nessalir, as she cut the bindings which held Redair's prince.

  He stared at her, fear still clear on his face, and then he looked past her to that pool into which his captor had fallen.

  "Fear not," Nessalir told him. "He is dead."

  Balof looked down. In the crystal's light, she could recognize the shame in his eyes. "I nearly brought destruction upon my father's kingdom," he said softly. "And my brother… he would not have died, had I not been such a fool."

  Nessalir did not disagree, but she kept the sentiment to herself. "I was sent by your father to bring you to safety," she told him.

  His face darkened. "And I am to return an embarrassment, then."

  "Better than returning dead," said Nessalir.

  "Would that I was dead!"

  It was futile to attempt to reason with him in this state. Nessalir could see this clearly. She rose, sheathed her sword, and returned her hand ax to its pce on her belt.

  "Return to my father and tell him his sons are dead," Balof told her. "I shall remain here and waste away, so that I might avoid suffering through my public shame."

  Nessalir said nothing. She simply grabbed the prince, lifted him up, and slung him over her good shoulder.

  "What are you doing? Put me down!"

  "I will not," said Nessalir. "There is yet still a task I must complete."

  She began walking to the exit while Balof hammered at her back with his fists. "You will put me down this instant!" he insisted.

  "Again, I will not," said Nessalir. "And scales cover my back, Prince. I can scarcely feel your fists."

  He huffed and cursed and sputtered as she carried him back through the ancient city. By the time they reached the cavern where she had sin the giant insect and incurred her injury, Balof had given up and gone silent and still.

  Nessalir stood at the entrance to the tunnel which led to the Vile King's barrow. "If I put you down, will you follow me, and come with me back to your father in Redair?"

  "I suppose," said Balof gloomily. "What other choice do I have?"

  "None, Prince."

  "Very well."

  Having reached an accord, Nessalir set Balof down. He brushed himself and gred at her in a sulken manner.

  "Now follow me, Prince," said Nessalir. "I must warn you: beyond this tunnel, you may bear witness to a disturbing sight."

  "I have been kept hostage by the undead for stars know how many days," said Balof. "What sight could possibly disturb me?"

  She did not reply, but simply began moving through the tunnel. Balof followed close behind. When they emerged into the barrow, he looked upon the body of his elder brother, and turned away.

  "Durnethed, he raised him as a thrall?" he asked.

  "He did," said Nessalir.

  "And you slew him?"

  "I did."

  "Then you have saved my brother from his fate as well," said Balof. "I only regret that it was necessary. Had I not… No. Let us be off. I shall have to send men to retrieve Ralof's body once I am back in Redair."

  The two of them left the barrow to find that the sun had set whilst Nessalir ventured underground. Huunang remained where she had left him, and as they approached, the horse snorted at Balof and eyed the prince suspiciously.

  "It's alright," Nessalir cooed, patting the beast. "He is a friend. You shall let him ride your back, won't you?"

  Huunang looked at her and gave another snort, but Nessalir saw no reason to doubt he'd behave. Granted, the horse would likely have an attitude about it.

  "Come, Prince," said Nessalir. "Redair awaits."

  "We will travel in the night?" Balof asked.

  "You would remain out here in the cold?"

  "No, but I…" He trailed off, and seemed unsure. Nessalir wondered at his ck of confidence. How did such a man decide to brave the barrow of the Vile King?

  "Then we must away," said Nessalier. "I intend to have you back in your father's house by midnight."

  "Ah, ah, ah," came a voice from the darkness. "That, I'm afraid, we cannot allow."

  From the night emerged three men, dressed in sturdy leathers and each carrying a sword in one hand and a wooden shield in the other. They were rough-looking men, scarred and well muscled. Their leader, who was bald but for his thick bck beard, smiled at Nessalir.

  "The queen was hoping you'd fail, drakkowar. That you successfully rescued one of the royal brats is ill fortune indeed."

  "Heldara?" asked Balof. "But why would she wish me dead?"

  Nessalir, however, understood. "She is with child, is she not?" she said. "Yet you and your brother stood to bear the brunt of your father's inheritance."

  "Quite perceptive of you," said the bald man. "As, I do not concern myself with the affairs of thanes and kings. I am concerned only with coin, and Queen Heldara has promised me much to ensure your quest fails."

  Though the cold exaggerated her exhaustion and though the pain in her shoulder had worsened, Nessalir nonetheless drew her sword. "That is a bounty you shall not collect."

  With a smirk, the bald man charged, while his fellows fanned out on either side to attack from there.

  Nessalir was tired, and she was impatient to see this errand ended. She did not waste time, and ducked nimbly under the bald man's bde before thrusting the tip of her sword through his beard and up his chin. He gurgled in surprise, blood pouring from his mouth, and when Nessalir withdrew her bde he fell dead into the snow.

  Balof screamed and Huunang whinnied. Nessalir spun upon the second of the queen's mercenaries, a man with golden hair who menaced the terrified prince. She brought her hand ax down upon his skull, splitting the bone and sending him toppling to the ground, where his brains spilled out at the prince's feet.

  Now there was but one scoundrel left, and Nessalir looked for him. Unfortunately, he was already at her side. Hastily, she brought her sword up to block his blow, but he struck her with his shield.

  Nessalir fell back, and found herself suddenly on the defensive. The mercenary rained strike after strike upon her, and it was all she should do to parry him. Her shoulder throbbed and screamed with agony with every movement she made, and whenever she thought she'd found an opening for a counterattack, his shield was there to block it.

  Icy water filled her boots, sending a shock through her system, and Nessalir realized that she had been driven back to the ke. She began to reach into herself, to call upon the dragonfires within, but before she could, the mercenary abruptly stumbled.

  His eyes went wide, and Nessalir saw the tip of a sword sticking out from his stomach, having burst from a seam in his leather armor. Behind him stood Balof, shivering and frightened, the sword of a fallen draugr clutched in his hand.

  Feebly the mercenary tried to pull himself away from the prince, but before he could, Nessalir had brought her sword up and slit his throat.

  "Thank you," she said, stepping over the body of the mercenary and walking past Balof toward Huunang. The night had grown darker during the fight, and her head had grown lighter.

  "Are you alright?" asked Balof.

  "I am simply…" Nessalir could not finish her statement. A wave of dizziness fell upon her. In the next instant, the ground was rushing up to meet her face, and then she knew no more.