Tyler's hand rested heavily on his shoulder. "I couldn't save my family either," he murmured, low enough for only Devalosfang to hear.

  The squad leader rose to his feet, his joints creaking with remembered terror. "After nightfall, they left her corpse there, a broken puppet in the darkness. Had dawn found me there, I would have joined that girl in death. But that moment never came."

  Carl knelt by the river, splashing water on his face. "I hope they made those savages pay."

  "What came was far worse than mere revenge," the squad leader's voice dropped to a haunted whisper. "Duke Dear's army didn't arrive until the third morning. By then, the savages who held us were already dead. They had faced... retribution from the depths of hell itself."

  "The bards never speak of this part."

  The squad leader shrugged. "If they did, their listeners would die of fright. Oris and her hell inspire fear in all." The death goddess Oris and Okado, the war god, were the most dreaded of all ancient deities. Legend spoke of Okado's invincible path through war, slaying countless beings, while his sister Oris would cast their souls into hell like refuse. In elven mythology, the siblings worked in perfect harmony - even the mighty Titans couldn't escape their grasp. "I thought those demon-fish had shown me the depths of horror. But I never imagined something could inspire such primal terror. We survivors came to call it the 'Messenger of Oris.'"

  "It emerged in the dead of night. I was bound to a post, her corpse lying before me. Though I tried countless times to look away, my body refused to move. The hours crawled by like years, and even the dream god denied me peace. Through my haze, I saw it crawl forth - a babe, slowly emerging from her violated body." Devalosfang's throat worked convulsively. "In the dying firelight, I could only see it was drenched in blood, a peculiar crimson hue. The umbilical cord still wrapped its neck, hampering its movements. It pulled at the cord, trying to free itself. Once it had loosened the cord slightly, it began to scream."

  "The cry was hoarse, thick with death. It screamed directly at me, and I saw its perfectly aligned teeth and long, toothed tongue. That sound woke every living thing nearby - the savages, the crows in the trees - but they couldn't flee. They simply fell, stiff as boards. The savages came with spears and cleavers to investigate. By then, another sound had joined the chorus - the howls of ghouls. When the savages beheld the massive alpha ghoul and its pack, they froze like stakes in the ground. The savages' time to scream had come, but the ghouls gave them little chance. Their heads were torn off in the blink of an eye. The slaughter lasted half the night, ending only when the east began to pale. Not one of our captors survived. Before leaving, the alpha ghoul approached the corpse-child and swallowed it whole. Only after their departure did we dare to breathe again."

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  "The ghouls didn't attack you? Strange," Tyler mused. "Ghouls usually prefer the dead. Though I suppose they're not above a living meal if they're hungry enough."

  "Whatever their reason, they didn't count us among the dead, thank the gods." Devalosfang seemed to stiffen at the memory, his very mouth rigid with tension. "After they'd gone, we finally dared tend to the aftermath. We buried the slain soldiers and camp followers in a deep pit, marking it with crude stone monuments that stand there still. The Kolova savages we burned, fearing their stench might draw the ghouls back. None dared set foot on Prayer Bridge. Only at dawn the next day, after joining Raveirmom's main force, did we cross Prayer Bridge and march on Kolova."

  "The Kolova campaign proved easier than expected - our forces swiftly routed the savages. Throughout the journey home, I carried one thing with me: a purse heavy with copper coins, some silver, and Godma glens. She'd clutched it until death - her final earnings. I felt duty-bound to return it to her father, though I knew neither her name nor his identity. She rarely spoke of her father or herself, and those supply troops who might have known had died at savage hands. Even I couldn't explain why I swore that oath before her gravestone." The squad leader briefly considered seeking wine at his tent before continuing, but thought better of it, merely wetting his lips. "By our return to Godma, the Oberna family's name was cleared of treason. Lord Eoch had found proof of his family's manipulation amid his hunger and disease. Naturally, he regained his ducal title and lands, becoming Commander of the Royal Knights - Emperor William's gift, for the Emperor never forgets either favor or fault. On our triumphant return, he awaited us early at the palace's victory arch. Duke Dear had other duties, so I led the procession."

  "Where is my daughter?" he demanded, pulling me aside. "Your... daughter?" I recalled no nobleman's daughter among our expedition. "She... her name was..." He hesitated, "Ali, with waterfall-black hair and matching dark eyes..." His words dissolved into tears, "She... she would have been... a camp follower..."

  "In that moment, everything became clear - who she was, who he was. I couldn't find words to tell him of the past, nor offer comfort. I could only produce that blood-stained purse, still warm - perhaps from my touch, perhaps from hers. Lord Eoch stared at it for an eternity. Then he turned that same gaze on me... His sword cleared its sheath as he sought my life. The Knight Commander swung wildly, each strike laden with grief and despair. It took eight soldiers to restrain him. When he couldn't reach me, he turned the blade on himself. I knocked him unconscious myself, and I watched over him until he woke. Ali was all he murmured in his delirium."