Kanela's Diary, Volume Three.

A day later, we were relaxing back at the camp. Feeling very happy with ourselves for having successfully thwarted the evil machinations of the Yelani. Souvlikos asked Vreeo and myself to help break the defences of his captive, and reveal his true name. The other two had done this kind of thing before, and so I wasn't too worried about offering my assistance. It seemed like an interesting way to start my magical career, and practice combining power outside a battle situation.

It started well enough. That was all that went right, though. To the surprise of Vreeo and myself, Souvlikos was assaulting the spirit of a Soulless one! This creature had a direct magical connection to a Rakhokalia demon, which fought the attack, and then started to approach down the magical conduit Sicknote had opened. Vreeo ordered the stockade cleared, and I ran into the surrounding woods, as the smell of cinnamon became overwhelming. One advantage of the position of annalist is that I know what to do in situations like this: RUN AWAY!

The creature nearly got through, but was stopped just in time by the prayers of Lunak. It was lucky for me that I was as far away as I was, for the divine power split my skull even in the woods.

The boss was furious when everything was squared away. He interviewed anyone who couldn't get away in time. As he fumed and growled, the Brigade picked up sticks and moved away from the area. We went north, back towards the Kekusutan. A board of enquiry was convened, and the Standardbearer was found guilty of overstepping his position. He was made to see the error of his ways (Ha!), and apologised (Ha, ha!). Vreeo had sole charge of any Brigade sorcery. She held ultimate control.

As we travelled on, we acquired 15 more recruits. Our numbers were swelling rapidly - quicker than at any time in my memory, and I had now served 17 years with the Brigade.

As we travelled, Setrika kept pushing for a purpose. She insisted we must have a plan for more than next week. The Captain said we should ignore religion, and get back to survival. We should grow into a vast army, we should suborn gods to ally themselves with us, or else destroy their followers. We should found a city in the wilderness, and settle down. We should travel for ever. We should get followers to serve the new city. The Standardbearer was notable as he stood by the right hand of T'Heros and put words in his mouth.

I pushed for a conclusion to the revenge on the Kekusutan. Vreeo agreed, and so the three sorcerous types (I was not yet a sorceror, as Souvlikos kept explaining to me) got together and started. It was a mighty spell that blighted the tribe. No young would be born to the people or their animals (a terrible end for a nomad herder), unless they turned to the worship of Aurora. The religion was courtesy of your ever-loving Standardbearer. My curse was twisted by him into some corrupt little Godswar, poisonous little toad.

Vreeo travelled without her body to view the lands to the west, where the Captain desired to investigate. As her spirit left her body, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful naked young woman flying from the tent. Had she been that much of a looker in her youth, or was it merely the delusion of an old woman? I didn't ask.

She found a wild, barren area. No inhabitants, no civilisation. This was the Hutan Mata. Beyond this lived villages of fisher folk. They seemed to be independent, but obviously had trade with more civilised peoples, and their luxury items were beyond their own ability to manufacture.

Far to their north lived villages of kemes, on the boundaries of a vast forest.

As Vreeo travelled, she attracted the interest of an unfriendly god which became a recurring theme over the next few months, and possibly beyond. She promised to leave its lands, and escaped. She then rationalised that the company stockade was Aurora's lands, so she could carry on as normal, and keep her word. A display of double standards worthy of Rapeezo!

We travelled to the military encampment of Bijih Cerocok ("Ore Smelter"). It controlled the river to the mines that supplied Merah with copper and tin ore for bronze. The military commander, one Beslit (tough, scarred with very worn but high quality armour), was not the most welcoming, but then that was only to be expected, when over 100 soldiers appeared and asked to set up a winter camp near his position. We eventually worked out a compromise, and encamped a couple of miles away. He allowed us to use the ore barges to travel to and from Merah for trade. The local tribes were the Menguliti, on whose lands we were camped, and whom they battled regularly, and the Serak kemes, whose capital was north in the great forest at Pasar. The other known tribe of kemes to the north were the Zuran. The Vrijedra harried the miners in the mountains to the north.

We sold the Kekusutan "prime breeding stock" in exchange for their "sickly" animals, and turned a good profit, as we stocked up for winter. The curse seemed to be working splendidly! This trade was Vika's idea, and Rapeezo was extremely impressed.

The company continued to prepare for winter, and a small group of us travelled west to the kemes lands to plan our trading expedition. The trade was to be cover for recruitment, but we turned a tidy profit over the next few months, getting a large stockpile of broken bronze tools, in a "two broken for one new" deal. They needed worked metals and tools, but lacked the technology to create their own. I kept my knowledge secret for the most part, because they might well have decided to capture me. In my travels, I have seen hamstrung smiths, who are tied to their place of work. We could always use more metal, especially as the recruits increased, and the supply from Merah had stopped, as they were now at war with the outlander barbarians in the south.

As we traded, we also noticed that the kemes freeze-distilled a very fine spirit. They also traded furs, skins from the bizarre creatures living far to the north in the mountains and forests. These skins were extremely expensive, and so Souvlikos got to wanting a cloak of fur. He was poor, so I didn't think much of his chances.

We all learned the kemes tongue, to a greater or lesser extent, as we travelled further north. Lumpius was a great hit with the locals, as they all seemed to be cast from the same mould. They couldn't hold their drink, made outrageous drunken boasts, then had to fulfil them the next morning with pounding hangovers. Lumpius was in his element! He won a metakeenos in a drunken bet, and called it Siral.

He then stopped the locals "liberating" our metakeenos, and we were given 4 more by a shamefaced headman as recompense. He called these Beti, Oris, Mable and Treeleaf.

We eventually reached Pasar. This was a town of considerable size, with a permanent population of 700, which increased to about 2000 during the month of trade, where all the tribes could peacefully travel, and it was their "religious duty" to trade honestly and well. The headsman, Trgati, and headswoman, Svladati, of Pasar was the nearest thing we saw to a king and queen. He lived in the trunk of the largest tree anyone had ever seen. He said it had been felled by a storm in the deep woods. It had halls inside it!

Souvlikos could not cope with their culture. In the normal run of things, he would have ignored them, but he had a craving for their furs, and so had to attempt the drunken boasting and boisterous behaviour of the kemes. He was crap. He made a tit of himself. Ha ha.

We returned and traded well. We had to keep an eye on Rapeezo, or else his acquisitiveness would have upset their delicate religious sensibilities.

The Captain decided that the best way to get recruits was to go on the traditional kejang hunt that followed the trade month. He was interested in getting hold of young kejang to train for the cavalry, anyway. He and Souvlikos were thick as thieves as they planned how to train kejang.

In Pasar we found other traders, amongst which was a furrier from Galadiahos. He was a high noble, and was guarded by members of the Rainbow Guard! We kept a low profile whilst they were around, although Souvlikos tried to buy up a large number of his furs. The asking price was beyond his scope, and he turned down my very generous loan offer. We discovered that his boat had sailed without him thanks to Vreeo's contact with Olok olok, who was mooching around the southern coast, looking for Galadiahan sailors to recruit. Cap decided to tell the furrier as he passed, and get Setrika to offer our services to escort him and his very valuable goods through the war zone to Pembelian where his ship had been docked.

Souvlikos was given the task of getting kejang shit for spells later to get young ones for training, and I was to be assistant shit shoveller. This mercenary life isn't all glamour, you know.

The kemes were terrifyingly lacking in metalworking and engineering skills, so I developed a block and tackle arrangement to allow much safer and quicker ferrying across the river. Trgati was delighted, and I showed Docek, their chief woodworker, the trick so that they could make more pulleys in the future. He was a far better wood crafter and carver than I, but, unable to read and learn, his ability to innovate was limited. We traded that knowledge for goodwill, and a wagon made from part of the headsman's hall. The tree did not seem much diminished by the exchange. Souvlikos had suggested that we trade for the headsman's fur cloak, which he coveted. The drool was most off putting.

It was now the First Day of the Ninth Moon of the Third Year of Tharos of Galadiahos. The trading was over, and the kejang hunts began. T'Heros, Souvlikos, Lumpius and myself were invited on the hunt. I was included after a drunken bet led to a legendary drinking competition. Souvlikos had lost several bets, but had introduced log rolling as a new sport, much to the headsman's delight.

The day of the Fourth dawned, and we set forth on our dangerous, foolhardy hunt. My job was to protect Souvlikos - from assistant shit shoveller to Standardbearer's bodyguard - the jobs kept getting worse.

I'd noticed that since the end of the trading time, the weather had suddenly become much colder, and the wind had become a great deal more biting. The locals had all withdrawn into their shells, and had become much less friendly as well. The changes had been very sudden, and I reckoned that some god was behind the shift. On the third day of the moon, the first hunting party returned. They had killed a huge kejang, which measured 25 foot long, and ten foot high to the shoulder. None of the hunters had died, but many of them were severely injured.

The next day we joined a hunt. The four brothers on the hunt teamed up with three experienced hunters from one of the local villages, and we traipsed off into the deep forest in search of tracks. During the afternoon, Oh, Joy of Joys, we found kejang shit. Souvlikos was beside himself with excitement, which just goes to prove something, but I wouldn't really like to write down what it is. We then started to race through the woods, following signs of a kejang browsing through the undergrowth. The kemes hunters could run through these lands at incredible speeds, but the rest of us had real problems keeping up. The Captain, however, was in his element. He looked to be a far better tracker than any of the locals, so I followed him, while the kemes raced ahead, and kept having to turn round to see where they were going.

The rest of the hunters had been summoned by a horn, but they all bowed to the Captain's supremacy in organising the hunting tactics. Once we had found the glade where the kejang was eating, we split into three groups to try to surround the beast. As we were preparing to attack it, it charged. Luckily enough, we were the objects of its affection. The Captain was crushed beneath one of its feet and one of our kemes allies was spiked against a tree. The creature was enormous, very fast, and seemed indestructible. I dragged the wounded to safety as we continued to harass the rampaging giant. By this time it had been struck forty times by the massive hunting spears of the kemes, but it seemed able to ignore all this and more.

As if we hadn't got enough trouble, the Captain was dying on the floor, his life's blood pouring onto the earth. So who should turn up but our handy-dandy goddess? Our dying commander was infused with a magical sunlight glow and his wounds sucked the blood from the earth. He immediately jumped up and rushed to help the severely wounded kemes. This divine display had distracted the hunters, allowing the kejang to strike against more of our friends. So Lumpius decided to bring everyone's concentration back to the matter in hand by vaulting onto the back of the enraged creature. It's a bloody good job that kemes have got four arms, because if they hadn't, we'd probably never have recovered his body. The lunatic proceeded to draw a dagger from his boot, and desperately tried to stab his mount from his precarious seat behind its armoured hood.

I suspect no kejang had ever been ridden before, and this glorious display of stupidity distracted it enough to allow us to finish it off. We traipsed back to Pasar with our magnificent burden which seemed sadly diminished once it had died. The sods the day before had killed a bigger one - however our display of goodwill and competence impressed the local hunters enough that fifty of them offered themselves as recruits. Our brigade was increasing by leaps and bounds and the Captain was ensured his place in history - no other Captain had ever signed up fifty recruits of such potential before.

Once we got back to our camp by the river we divided our forces to do little bits of make-work over the winter:

Olok olok was sent to command a group with the Galadiahan furrier escorting him south on his journey back to his homeland. Whilst there he persuaded 6 Galadiahan sailors to join the company as recruits. This kept the Captain's long-term plans going by maintaining the southern flavour of our group. Whilst he was there he found evidence that the war between the outlander barbarians and Merah was benefiting Pembelian much too much. They were damaging Merah without dirtying their own hands.

Estera was commanded to train some new rangers. Some months later she had succeeded in qualifying three for that position. I set their names down here, just to avoid forgetting later on. They were :

Roufee Anos, known as "Schemer". He was originally from Galadiahos, and his nickname suited him well.

Hak was a local Merah recruit with a bloodthirsty reputation. Unsurprisingly, his nickname was "Hack".

Ajal, known as "Dreamy", originated from the lands of the Twin Cities. She was quiet and pleasant enough most of the time, but when she fought, her face showed no reaction to the world, and it looked as though she was in a daze. She seemed to care about her appearance, and popular fashion far more than military detail.

"Sir" went into the lands west of the river to find out what we could before travelling that way after the winter.

The Captain, meanwhile, was severely wounded after his encounter with the kejang. He left Setrika in charge of the stockade, and decamped to Merah with several others so we could keep a presence there. He could also rest up and recuperate much more quickly.

Whilst we were in Merah, I was approached by my old pal Notkah. He ruled the city now, and tried to get us to re-enlist for the duration of the war. After much negotiating, and thanks in no small part to Rapeezo's business acumen, we got two good jobs. We were paid for protecting the river barges between Merah and Bijih Cerocok. We were doing this anyway, but it was now nice and official, relatively safe, and paid us well. Part of the deal involved some of our more talented brothers being trained in battlefield surgery and medicine. It was an element of the company's strength that needed work, but doctors charged huge sums for such education, and we couldn't afford it.

The two brothers chosen to learn were Gigitan, also known to his nearest and dearest as "Fangs" after an incident during a bar-room brawl when he bit a guy's throat out, and Keba Karan, or "Fire" a very bright and quick-witted brother from Merah originally, who was a favourite of Vika's and had a tendency to set things on fire given any opportunity at all. They would both learn a lot, as they were neither of them stupid, and both could see the advantages of this skill when retirement beckoned.

The other job was to escort the last supply train up to the monastery at Biara Berhala. The Cap and Vreeo had heard stories which linked the site with triangular architecture and demonic interests. The Captain in particular wanted to find out more, so the job was grabbed with open arms.

Usually the bearers were religious fanatics and those singled out by the priests as trouble. The troublemakers could get in better with their god by lugging large amounts of supplies up to the monastery. They were not expected to like it, just do it (sounds like your mother, doesn't it?). Because of the war troublemakers and fanatics were in short supply, so anyone was welcome to traipse up there for fun and profit.

The Captain took 20 men, some of whom were recruits, to defend 100 bearers, or "mules" as Souvlikos insisted on calling them to their faces. We took kemes recruits for the most part, as they were able to survive the snow far better than anyone but a tree (Hello, Lunak!). The reason that Notkah was especially interested in defending this group was that the last pack-train had been lost, along with their supplies, and with winter closing in, the monks might starve by spring unless this lot got through.

Vreeo and I investigated the libraries for more information on the monasteries, the attached notes fill in the blanks.

As well as protecting the "mules", we were to escort a new monk, Palajar Baris. I have no idea what his crimes were, but they must have been pretty horrific, as everyone else from Merah gave him a wide berth, and he seemed sunk in despair and regret. Poor sod, maybe he should have taken the easy way out and killed himself. From the scuttlebutt around the campfire, it had been 4 years since the last monk had gone up the mountain. Vreeo and Souvlikos had plans for Baris, and they arranged to create a link with his mind so as to spy inside the monastery. We were told that we would not be allowed inside.

We started off toward the mountains as the weather turned for the worse. The wind blew down from the north, and the smell of snow and ice was carried with it, promising cold days ahead.

The bearers had a very difficult time of it, as they were city folk, and they were unused to the cold, and the heavy burdens they carried. The few religious types bore their discomfort with fortitude, as did the peasants, who were after some coin after the harvest, to tide them through the winter months. A fair proportion of our charges were disgraced students. They complained endlessly, and I got the impression, as did they, that the college authorities had been especially harsh so as to buck up the number of bearers. One lad, called Besok, told me that he had been caught carrying illicit booze back to his dorm for a post- exam party. He had been amazed at his punishment. So was I at first, but after listening to his life's story for endless hours, I was unsurprised that he had been told to get out of town for a while.

The other student who stood out was Mahasiswa. He it was who had tied Tuan Palajar Samben's underwear to the college flagpole. It was a triumph for the student body, but he and most of his cohorts were now carrying 60lb packs up a mountain. He was amusing and witty, still living on the glory of his prank, and had a great talent for winding up those in authority. His favourite targets became Souvlikos (much to the brothers' amusement) and Palajar Baris, who had taught him applied mathematics as a child (was that Baris' crime? Accountancy? Death would be far too good for that sort).

After a few days gentle travel (for us, at least) we reached the first guard post. It was a sadly run down affair, with a handful of fat time-servers. None of them looked ready for active duty, and this was demonstrated by their inability to do even simple duties. All the work seemed to be done by one young lad, Rasa. I spoke with him after learning that he was the only guard that knew how to work, and indeed repair, the ballista they had on the guardhouse roof.

I sounded him out on the prospects for leaving his current job, which he hated, and joining up. He seemed keen, but feared the guard sergeant, who would try to keep him there on pain of death. I was certain we could work that out, and suggested to both Rasa and the Captain that he slip away and join us upon our return. I now had the makings of a replacement Engineer!

As we progressed up the path, we entered the woods, which gave good hiding to potential enemies. On the first night in the woods, we were infiltrated by a thief, who led his pursuers into an ambush by about 50 archers. Vreeo and Souvlikos ordered the attackers to step out of the woods, bend over, and say goodbye to their arses. They duly did, and we eradicated that threat to the route. Upon questioning the survivor, we found that they had not slaughtered the last bearers, and their village was now completely empty of inhabitants. We had killed them all. The poor sod stood there, trapped by Souvlikos's magic and just kept repeating "You killed them all. You killed them all." Well, we had. None of us were hurt by their attack, and the bearers hadn't even woken.

The bandits were of the Vrijedra tribe. They were the gits that we had defended Merah against a couple of years before, when Tefra had been Captain.

The "mules" buried all the archers in the morning. They were ever so impressed by our success. Well, we are very good at what we do. They weren't very good bandits anyway to judge by their loot. It was barely enough to get out of bed for. I did find a magic sceptre in the form of a centipede, however.

A few days later we passed out of the woods and reached the snow dusted rocks of the mountains proper. We found a place where the path had been destroyed by a rock slide. It may have been where the previous crew had perished. Indeed, soon after a bearer fell down the side of a ridge, and broke his leg. We recovered him, and carried him on, but he fell again and died during the night soon after. I have no proof, but the smug look on Souvlikos's face suggested he had had help to "accidentally" fall to his death.

The snow got worse and worse, and several times we had to resort to crawling on our hands and knees on particularly exposed places. I was glad that T'Heros had insisted upon kemes recruits to accompany us, as they were able to prevent a few potential disasters. Zustar, a devout new kemes recruit, talked of the wicked goddess that they sacrificed to in the winter. She was the embodiment of all that was harsh and cruel in their environment. None loved her, but all wise men feared her attention, and its icy consequences. His own tribesmen called him "Ice" in honour of his patron.

12 days of cruel punishment brought us to the second guard post. This was the home of another 6 soldiers of Merah. They were embarrassingly happy to see us, as they were low on supplies for the winter after the loss of the previous supply train. Their commander was called Jasad, a pleasant bloke. He seemed more professional than the guard lower down, but I suppose anyone but a true professional would have deserted rather than spend years in this sort of prison.

The next morning we started out on the last leg of the journey, and it was by far the most perilous. We had to set up ropes to help the "mules" climb the path. Several came close to death, but judicious use of sorcery and divine aid allowed all but six of the poor, unenthusiastic "mules" to reach the foot of the monastery. We never even noticed them as we went up the trail, the storm was so severe. They fell to their deaths, or simply curled up and froze. We were lucky that more didn't die.

There we were met by Palajar Mengatur. He wore a hooded cowl than completely hid his features, not a shock outside in the gathering storm, but more of a turn up as we crowded into the feeble shelter of the towering stone monastery's locked doorway. He greeted us, but would not allow any but the new novice into the monastery. Our poor civilian volunteers were in dire need of warmth, which the huts at the base of the monastery cliff would not provide. The usual arrangement was to get the travellers from Merah to camp on the rocks in their tents. We would have all died if asked to try that. It was far, far too cold. After asking the Master of the Monastery, we were allowed to put some of the most severely frost bitten in the monastery's kitchen and chapel.

I avoided the holy site completely, as is my habit, and all the brothers and recruits found shelter in one of the huts along with 10 students. These included Mahasiswa and Besok. Poor Besok was crippled by frostbite, but generously let others rest in the kitchen's warmth. He seemed to dislike holy places as much as I did. So much wisdom in one so young!

The other two sorcerors set up a link to see through Baris's eyes, but all we saw was the inside of his locked cell. He was brought food, and then he fell asleep.

Mengatur also brought us food, a hot stew that smelled delicious after the last couple of weeks. The students fell on it with ravenous hunger, and failed to notice our polite refusal. The Captain had a funny feeling about the stew, and had the strength of personality to stop us eating it. All it took was a quiet shake of the head and a raised eyebrow. I had to see what was in it, so I had a mouthful. The meat had once spoken. I nodded to the Boss to confirm his suspicion. All the students had by now fallen asleep. This was normal after the day they had had, but we could not waken them. Vreeo discovered that Baris was also drugged.

We set night watches, and found places to rest. It's been said many times before, but you can tell a professional soldier by his ability to catch up on his sleep whenever feasible. I slept soundly.

During the night, some said they heard screams from within the monastery's walls. They were the screams of those who saw their end, unexpected, and unavoidable. The Captain started to plan an attack on the fortress - for such it was. As he did so, the storm redoubled in intensity. No living thing could survive that gale.

I feel that I must write this down immediately, before it cools down with time. A profound event has occurred. Usually these notes are filled out ages after the events described, once I've got some corroboration from other witnesses. This is all my own work. The wind still whistles around us, and I've never seen so much snow, but at least we're heading down the track now.

We sat in that hut for what seemed like an age, the snow still fell, and the wind blew sideways. Several ways to get information and access to the monastery were discussed, but we all seemed cowed by the gale and the goddess's wrath. Eventually the Captain decided to act, otherwise we could have been trapped for a week. Lunak thought he might be able to survive the storm, so he started the long slow crawl to the monastery gate. He used his roots to hold on to the rock and ice, and travelled alone, as even our strongest rope would have been shredded in that maelstrom.

Unsurprisingly, "Idler" Warung suggested that we leave the mountain, as it was cold and unfriendly. He is renowned amongst the brothers for sliding away from work if at all possible, so this idea came as no shock. Such was the depths of our mood, however, and the lack of a clear direction or point to our plans, that he had nods from most of the assembled brothers, even Vika!

As the sun set, some said they noticed the storm still for an instant. Souvlikos sensed another powerful sorcerous presence and the Captain said that the storm might have been unnatural. Those that sensed the magic were gritting their teeth and exchanging significant glances, when Vika commented that she had heard a noise from the sleeping quarters above. She led Warung and "Dozy" Lambat up to see what on earth could be there. We controlled the only access and none had passed by.

Soon we heard the sounds of a scuffle, and Lambat shouting that they were under attack, and Vika was in trouble. Lambat is slow, but very steady, and I hadn't heard the note of terror in his voice ever before. Souvlikos and I rushed first up the stairs and an unbelievable scene met our eyes.

Vika was walking stiffly towards a giant mass of flesh. As I peered closer, it resolved into the form of a huge priest, dressed for the monastery, but 12 feet tall, and about the same wide. His arms reached toward Vika, and they were very long, with bulging muscles showing through folds of fat. His face was contorted by a bestial leer, and drool dripped down the jowls of flesh around his vast maw. For a moment he looked like the Master of the Monastery, but then his mouth opened wider and wider, and any semblance of humanity fled.

As we pushed forward, without any warning, twelve monks appeared out of the air between the creature and us. The light of mindless fanaticism shone in their faces, and they held bloody swords. I lent my aid to Souvlikos, and he managed to break the magic's hold on Vika's mind. She shook herself like a dog, then drew her weapon and stepped toward the thing. It raised its arms, and I felt the tingle of powerful magic as the roof was torn from the hut, exposing us to the storm's tearing ire. Some fell to their knees to keep from being pulled up and away, but the monks stepped forward, oblivious to the wind and ice.

Vika showed her mettle and charged the monster before her. She swung her axe, and struck true, but with little effect. The folds of flesh seemed to swallow her weapon, holding it fast. The brothers with us also lost their swords in the monks' enveloping skins. We crouched against the storm, and reached for obviously inadequate daggers to defend ourselves.

Then Souvlikos called out to the wind. He spoke in a southern tongue, and I heard the name "Ssfayee" as my mouth started to ache and tear, blotting out any thoughts. His god answered the call. I curled up in agony as the divine power of an ancient desert snake lashed out. I fell down the stairs, but saw the twelve obliterated, and the monster fall back as its skin was pierced by a thousand venomous bites. Its body swelled, and split. The remnants of the bloated corpse fell to the ground, but from the shattered head pulled clear the skull and spine. Milky pus drained from the floating apparition, and a terrible light shone from the ruined eyes.

As I fell to the stone floor below, I heard screams pierce the noise about me. All present were covered with a red cinnamon acid that burnt our clothes and skin, making the storm's icy breath cut through our weakened bodies. From before me came a choking moan. Vreeo hung by invisible threads, which pulled her upward. The cry she let out sounded dreadful, her face showed only fear. A golden glow surrounded her and a small fiery ember floated from her throat to trail into the glow and disappear. As it left her body she seemed to shrink, and twist. She looked far older, and weaker, and very much afraid. The stench of cinnamon was horrendous. Our enemy had come, and we saw how pointless our enmity was. We were nothing, and less than nothing.

I pulled myself up, and swung my axe. Not at Vreeo, but above her to keep her from floating away. I struck nothing, but she fell to earth like a damp rag. A voice, old as time, and full of evil wisdom spoke in my mind. It seemed grateful for the interruption, and then everything went blank as my eyes filled with a golden glow, my feet left the floor, my nose smelt only cinnamon, and my ears held only my own anguished screams of pain. My soul was shredded, ripped into small pieces, and not all now remain. I feel smaller. My voice rasps, and small noises tear at my ears. I wished the world would fuck off and leave me to my misery.

I am told that the Captain saved the day, by summoning the spirit of Aurora into the Standard. With this he slew the skull upstairs, sacrificing its soul to the storm, and Zustar prayed to his cruel goddess. The Rakhokalia that had attacked Vreeo and I was chased from the battle, leaving tired, wounded brothers, and a dead student. Besok, having fought through the storm, could stand the cold no more. His face was frozen in a rictus of fear. The drugs of the monks still kept the others asleep.

We sent out for Lunak, who had got an inkling of our plight, and was already on his way back. The gods do protect their own, don't they?

After we had patched ourselves up, we noticed that the Cap's sacrifice to the kemes storm goddess had broken the back of that unholy tempest (this prose is extremely purple, I do apologise to the annalists that follow, but it needed describing with all its terrible grandeur).

Lunak went to the door of the monastery, and by slipping tendrils between the planks, managed to force his way in. We went in mob-handed, but it wasn't needed. Every single person in the building was dead. They had been slaughtered in a bloody summoning ritual. All the bearers, all the monks, the abbot, they were bleeding on the floors, every one.

They had died in three groups, arranged within the building as a giant triangle, what a surprise! The brothers went looking for treasures, and I was barely able to walk, so they got most of the good stuff. I did help Vreeo protect the abbot's books, and gathered a few gold Emas, before collapsing in a heap by the kitchen fire. Even in my severely weakened state, I seemed to get many more valuable items than the rest of them. How could they miss the gold and instead return with a wooden bowl full of rancid sausages and a look of triumph? It has always shocked me, you would expect a bunch of mercenaries to be able to loot with style, but then again, regular troops are even worse. I could almost certainly make a good career checking out battlefields the day after a battle. Maybe I should consider a change, soldiering seems to be getting increasingly complicated and risky.

We went back to the hut where Besok was still lying dead. Lambat took the corpse outside, whilst we woke the students. They were still partially drugged, exhausted from the last few weeks work, and traditionally used to getting up first thing in the afternoon. Vika had little trouble in getting them awake, her voice could force the dead to walk. We explained what had happened, but the story was fairly unbelievable, and I had my doubts about their honesty when they said they trusted our word. What they had to believe, however, was that the hut had no roof, and Besok was a frozen popsicle around the back. Mahasiswa was particularly hurt by his friend's death. We left him alone, kneeling in the snow by the body.

We then showed the carnage at the monastery to the other students. They were not used to such sights, and even to me, it was a horrible spectacle. All those poor fools dying for their religion. How very stupid.

The Captain then sent them off to wake up the lodgers in the other hut. These were the more fanatic of the bearers, and the monastery guards. When they were gone, he stumped up some enthusiasm for a quick daybreak prayer. On a side note, we are very unlikely to get a strong following in the cities for a goddess who is worshipped at dawn. It might suit a company of mercenaries, ably shouted at by a sergeant with a voice that could strip varnish, but for civilians the lifestyle change would be too great.

He summoned Aurora (was she his goddess or pet?), and he asked that she remove the taint of the Rakhokalia from the mountain top. She asked him whether he really wanted this, was he completely sure? This has been the code that says:

"THINK AGAIN, CONSIDER THE CONSEQUENCES."

He charged on, oblivious to the risks. We have seen this behaviour before, most notably when he first called Aurora to the world. Its probably due to his cavalry background, and the adrenalin surge of the charge.

Anyway, she did as she was told like a good little soldier, and the monastery and all the buildings were gone in a flash of light. We sat in the snow, rapidly buttoning our jackets, with the students and other survivors looking towards us in shock.

The god Loyismos spoke to us. All there heard his voice, in the sudden stillness on the mountain top:

"FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, THE CHILDREN OF THE DAWN AND I ARE ENEMIES!"

The others stood there, looking unhappy with us, but not enthusiastic to fight. I was huddled in the snow, feeling weak and sickly, and noticed Mahasiswa walking slowly up to meet us. I wish I had been feeling healthier, I might have been able to stop the next horrendous act.

Souvlikos stood forward and shouted down the civilians:

"Bow down and worship. Kneel to honour the power and might of the Goddess!"

Oddly enough, they didn't. Most had seen the Standardbearer as a figure of ridicule, thanks to the efforts of Mahasiswa on the interminable trek up here, and the others were devout followers of Loyismos who had just heard their god declare us his enemies. It stayed balanced on a knife edge like that for several heartbeats, then Souvlikos shouted again, demanding they turn to our goddess.

We looked to the Captain for guidance. I hoped he would tell Souvlikos to shut up, but no, the tension had got to him, and he ordered the unarmed civilians and their incompetent monastery allies massacred. Strategically, we could all see the logic, half way up a mountain as winter descended, but we were hoping for another decision. Our boys have been too well trained though, and stepped forward to do as they were told. Vreeo and Souvlikos cast a spell to control the victims, but Souvlikos put a sting in its tail that none had anticipated - again. He commanded them to bow down and worship Aurora as they were slain.

"And the Children of the Dawn slaughtered the worshippers of Aurora as they prayed to her with all their hearts."

The brothers were horrified. They stood there with blood on their hands, and were dumbfounded by what had happened. The religious taint of the Brigade had erupted here with our brothers killing those we had been hired to protect. Because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had not caused us any harm, and now we were to bury them next to Besok. Some turned towards the Standardbearer with venom in their eyes, but he shouted that he hadn't done anything wrong, and let Aurora strike him down if it was not so. Let Aurora judge him.

Nothing wrong? Aurora's first martyrs were forced to pray to her as their fellow worshippers hacked down their paralysed bodies! If the future cycle was decided by our actions, then this world would end in brothers killing brothers over enforced religious arguments. My worst fears were coming true. The oath of brotherhood was nearly broken then. If I could have stood, it would have been, and others were also thinking such thoughts, I could tell. The Captain had to act decisively, but he seemed not to have realised there was a problem. He asked a few vague questions, and seemed ready to ignore the whole affair. Sometimes I worry about him, I really do.

The Brigade could have ended on that mountain, or gone on changed and corrupted by the poison of our acts. I tendered my resignation from the Brigade. I could not be a part of what the brothers were becoming. Some of my ex-brothers seemed ready to join me.

Aurora did what she could. She stopped the Standardbearer in his tracks, and let us decide our future. His arrogant act of challenge had allowed her to do that much.

Aurora then came to me in a vision. Think about my opinion of gods, then read that again: She came to me! Our conversation was long, though but a moment passed for the others. She saw what was likely to happen to us, her and the world next, if the action were left without a reckoning. She asked that I do what I could to redirect the flow of history. She was a child of T'Heros's actions. He was an uninvolved father, he needed to pay closer attention and accept his status. I agreed to do what I could, but reserved the right to walk away, if things went wrong. She said she envied me that choice.

She explained that the loudest voice often drowned out the crowd - take note Priest - your voice should be the one she hears. None of us want her raised by that corrupting voice of the Standardbearer!

I spoke to the Captain. He listened, but I don't think he heard. Others went to him in turn. We all spoke with one voice. Souvlikos had to die here and now. We should attempt to pay a blood debt to Merah and Loyismos. Warung even said we should build and pay for a new monastery! "Idler" volunteered to work!

Our combined efforts were enough to get through to him - he expelled Souvlikos from the Brigade for overstepping Vreeo's position during battlefield sorcery. As the words were spoken, Vika sliced through his throat with a look of satisfaction. Vreeo took the Standard and smashed it. A great crimson light flashed through the air, and from the far south, a god screamed in agony as his eye was destroyed forever.

The brothers all wore the same look of profound satisfaction. In only a few was it tinged with regret. The Captain still didn't understand, I could tell, but his final decision had probably kept him secure in his job, and had begun to reclaim the Brigade's soul.