ruffle her silk shirt or riding breeches as it whistled ferociously over the scarred stone.
The Yeetatchen girl was lost in thought as she scowled at the gorse. She wasn't afraid, just puzzled. This was her Land, the dream-scape shaped by her mind, and she feared no one here – but she had never before been approached so tentatively here.
She flexed the fingers of her left hand, feeling the dual sensation of a palm both unencumbered and still fused to the Crystal Skull. With a thought she clothed her body in glittering armour of crystal and a short-handled glaive appeared in her hand, like those carried by the Ghosts, but carved from ivory.
'You will have no need of that,' called a woman from behind her.
Xeliath blinked, and the entire Land seemed to spin around her while she remained still. The woman, a copper-haired Farlan, staggered and almost fell before she found her balance once more.
She was putting her weight on a silver-headed walking stick, moving as if she was injured; even in this dream-state she looked not entirely whole.
Is this a ruse, or does she lack the strength to appear as she wishes? The Yeetatchen could not help but glance at her own left arm, now perfect and straight. Vanity perhaps, but the Land owes me that at the very least.
'Who are you?' Xeliath said, her voice cutting the wind like a sword through smoke. 'What do you want with me?'
'You are Xeliath?' the woman asked. She pushed her hair away from her face and Xeliath saw a black hand- print on her throat. 'My name is Legana.' The wind tore at her long emerald cloak.
The white-eye reached out with her senses and her puzzlement increased. 'What are you?' she wondered. 'Your face says Farlan and your hair says a devotee of the Lady – so why do you smell of Godhood?'
Legana took a step forward. The wind assailing her abruptly stopped. 'I am the Mortal-Aspect of the Lady, but once I was an agent of the Farlan. I wish to speak to Lord Isak, to give my final report before I leave his service.'
'Why should I believe you?' Xeliath asked.
'I am in your power,' Legana said simply. 'Here, I am at your mercy. Lord Isak knows me, he will recognise me, but I am not strong enough to reach him directly.'
'Do you wear your true face?' Xeliath mused. An unexpected gust of wind slapped past Legana, making her flinch. When she looked up again her face was unchanged, but Xeliath could now see a curved line of bumps running around her neck.
'This is my true face. I lack the strength to hide it from you,' Legana said, before adding in a bitter voice, 'if I could, I would certainly remove from my neck the mark of the man who broke me and killed my Goddess.'
Xeliath let go of her glaive. The weapon fell slowly and disappeared just before it hit the ground. In its place a small table appeared, bearing a crystal decanter and two glasses. 'I have summoned him,' Xeliath announced. 'A drink while we wait? It's not real, of course, but who cares?'
The two women spent the next few minutes in silence, carefully scrutinising each other. In this dreamscape Xeliath was unaffected by the paralysis of the real world, and while Legana's beauty was undiminished, her sinuous athleticism had been replaced by that ethereal quality possessed by all Gods.
When Isak arrived, his peevish expression at the rags he found himself wearing vanished quickly, and he looked both women up and down, not trying to hide his appreciative grin. Only when Xeliath gave him a distinctly unfriendly look, accompanied by a distant rumble of thunder, did the Lord of the Farlan step forward, his palms upturned in greeting.
'Legana,' he acknowledged as she returned the gesture, 'you're changed since last I saw you.'
'There have been many changes, Lord Isak.' She inclined her head, to concede the point rather than show deference. 'I come to give you my final report.'
'Final?' He shot a look at Xeliath, who was now lying on her side on a green upholstered sofa, watching the pair of them like a cat. 'You wish to leave my service?'
'I have left your service,' she corrected. 'My allegiance is no longer to the Farlan.'
'Are we enemies instead?' His voice was cautious rather than hostile, but, apparently unbidden, Eolis appeared in his hand.
'Not unless you wish it, my Lord,' she said carefully. 'I am not so changed that I have forgotten my past.'
'Sod it, then,' Isak replied, trying to look casual. 'I've got enough enemies. Let's hear your report.'
'In brief, to begin with. You know the Lady is dead?' Her voice was impassive.
He nodded, but said nothing.
'It was Aracnan who killed her, and almost killed me too – I discovered him staging a situation to make it look like a high priest had been sacrificing to a daemon.'
She paused as Isak's expression soured all of a sudden, his ever-ready glower appearing even as he motioned for her to continue. 'I encountered two King's Men from Narkang in Byora, and we have good reason to believe Aracnan is acting under the orders of Azaer, and that other disciples of the shadow have infiltrated the Duchess of Byora's inner circle.'
'High priests playing with daemons? The bastard will be pleased to hear whose tactics he's borrowed,' Isak muttered. 'Do you have any clues as to what the shadow intends?'
'No, and I am in no condition to find out more.'
'How easily did you find all this out?' Xeliath interrupted. 'Isak, you said yourself that Scree was a set-up from the start – so why would this situation in Byora be any different?'
Legana hesitated before answering. 'I was lucky to survive the attack -1 barely did,' she admitted in a quiet voice. 'I had only been the Lady's Mortal-Aspect for a few days before she sent me to the temple where I found Aracnan. She stepped in to save me, realising too late that he was too strong even for her.'
'Too strong for a Goddess in a straight fight?' Isak marvelled, disbelieving. 'I hadn't realised.'
Xeliath made an angry sound. 'Is any mortal? Is any immortal -except for the Gods of the Upper Circle and the princes of the Dark Place?'
'What are you saying?'
'That you're a slow-witted wagon-brat!' she exclaimed fiercely. 'Aracnan could not be so powerful by himself; he is only a Demi-God. If he was powerful enough to kill the Lady in a straight fight, then why has he not ascended to the Pantheon?'
'Karkarn's horn,' breathed Legana as realisation struck her.
'What?' Isak looked at each of them, bewildered. 'What the fuck are you both-? Ah. Oh.'
'Exactly. We know one of Azaer's disciples has a Crystal Skull in his possession,' Xeliath said, flexing the fingers of her left hand.
'Legana, you should leave the Circle City as swiftly as possible,' Isak said. 'Your existence is a loose end he'll be keen to tie up. But first tell me why you don't think it's a trap.'
'In Scree they did not try to control events, but let them play out as they spiralled out of control. If the duchess is under Azaer's control, then they are being more direct, building on Scree's destruction. There's no madness tearing the city apart this time, but a careful drawing of battle-lines between powers.'
'But if that's true, what's to stop me marching the entire Farlan Army south and pounding Byora to dust? The road is clear, and Tor Milist would not dare hinder me – even united, the Circle City could not hope to win if I attacked. It could be a ruse,' he insisted, 'tempting me to act pre-emptively.'
Legana thought through what Isak was saying, then her eyes widened. 'Because Azaer will not be alone! Byora is awash with rumours from Tor Salan; the Menin have taken the city and are preparing to move north. The Circle City is weaker than it has been in decades. Lord Styrax can pick the cities off at his leisure. They will be crucial if he is going to take Raland and Embere.'
Isak swore. 'They'll reach the Circle City long before we could ever hope to. Did the shadow engineer that, or just anticipate it?'
'Whichever is true, you cannot attack Azaer without coming into conflict with the Menin.'
The white-eye lord gave an unexpected laugh, sounding world-weary and full of bitterness despite his youth.
'And so my deeds come back to haunt me. Avoiding conflict may not be possible, I'm afraid – tomorrow morning I give an official farewell to an army under Suzerain Torl's command!' Isak looked away for a moment, his face grave. 'At my urging, the Brethren of the Sacred Teachings and the newly militant cults of the Farlan have
