Brunhilde had fought against numerous enemies before, with the advantage and disadvantage. Boarding an enemy ship gave away the advantage. One had to take their chance in the leap across to the other galley. A mis-timed jump would send you into the waters, arm-broken by the clashing of the ships, or into the waiting sword of a defender.

When fighting multiple enemies the best strategy was to limit their avenues of attack. Defending behind a narrow entrance was the best way to do this, failing that use the terrain to your advantage.

None of Brunhilde’s previous battles had prepared her for fighting the misery-curs in this maze of rocks and wind. Though she could put her back against a rocky outcrop the animals’ agility allowed them to clamber up and drop down from above. There were too many of them to outflank, they could leap and scamper faster than her across this terrain. She could only suffer their blows and strangle the life out of the ones she could wrestle off of her.

Their screeches scraped her ear-drums with painful closeness. What felt like a thousand claws scratched at her. Most clung to her legs, slowing her down, whilst others screamed and leaped at her face. She felt like her Aunty Ida, who had told a tale of drowning amongst a shipwreck. Each time Ida had come up for air another piece of debris had struck against her, forcing her beneath the waves. Brunhilde was drowning amongst a tide of foes.

Hope meanwhile was dealing with the twins. Their shivering cowardice on the road had fallen away now, and they were intent on taking out their pent-up frustrations on Hope. She had no fear of them, even with the odds in their favour, but the distraction of the misery-curs scampering around added to the confusion. She held a blade of light in her hand, ever cautious of drawing the Blade that Burns Night or Day unless absolutely necessary. Around her head the halo that shielded her mind from magics glowed. But the power stored in her tattoos was waning. She needed a quick end to this fight to conserve her powers. And then there was Brunhilde, the great oaf had run off into the maze, away from Hope’s protection.

“Brunhilde!” she called out.

“Worried about your rustic friend?” Nevio sneered. He flicked his stiletto dagger in the air, feinting towards her.

Liara lunged but Hope had foreseen the attack, and her blade parried the dagger. These two had fought together a lot, they were experts at distraction and surprise attacks. The twins were like two hands of a magician working together, one drawing attention whilst the other played the real trick. Tricks that all involved a dagger between the ribs.

Hope elbowed Liara in the face to drive her back, then skipped back quickly. As expected Nevio had tried to strike Hope in her exposed side, but she was already out. She slashed her dagger and caught his hand. Blood spattered on the ground. Nevio hissed with pain and switched his dagger to the other hand. That was useful, a lot of knife-fighters trained with both hands.

She followed her slash by driving towards Nevio. Though shock showed on his face, his reflexes drove his knife into Hope. Or would have had she not summoned a shield of light in her off hand. Sparks clattered between them as stiletto met arcane shield. Nevio’s leer of triumph turned into panic and Hope’s dagger sunk into his belly. She had been wounded several times duelling, she knew the feel of a light blade. Painful but thrumming with warmth, a horrid feeling. Nevio slumped down into the dirt.

“Yield,” Hope said. She was impatient for the fight to end more than merciful.

“Brother!” Liara cried. She continued her attack.

Hope was ready to spin and let Liara’s wild attack go past her, but one of hungry creatures hooting around them rolled forwards and tripped her. Hope tumbled and though Liara’s dagger missed her, the noble-woman grabbed her and fell on top of her.

They wrestled on the floor. Hope grappled with Liara’s weapon hand, barely restraining vicious stabs meant for her vitals. Liara screamed and bit at her. Hope tried to kick her off, but she was a dueller, not a grappler. Despite being of similar size and build, in her rage Liara was the stronger.

Hope summoned a blast of her light. Her halo flashed brilliant white and Liara screamed and fell back. Hope jumped to her feet, but Liara was still scrabbling in the dirt, temporarily blinded. She kicked Liara in the side, winding her. She considered further violence, but her concern about Brunhilde won over.

“Brunhilde!” she cried out again, but there was no response. She clambered slowly up a column of rock to see the surroundings. There was a gaggle of misery-curs leaping down onto a foe. Hope leapt down and ran towards the fight.

She found Brunhilde, exhausted but unbowed. The barbarian was swinging wildly, flinging away her attackers. Hope ran towards her, enveloping her friend in the gold of her magic. Brunhilde stood, panting. She wiped sweat from her brow. The misery-curs rolled back and howled. Some braver ones threw themselves at the two, but Hope’s aura sparked and pained them so much they had to leap backwards.

“My thanks,” Brunhilde said.

“We have to leave here. I don’t have much power left,” Hope said.

Brunhilde felt a difference, there was less light, less clarity. “The twins?”

“They forfeited your protection when they attacked, leave them to their fate.”

“Fair. And Zorzio?”

“Let’s find that lank heron-brain and be done with this idiot pilgrimage,” Hope said.

They found Zorzio sitting on his case, staring morosely into the distance. Around him were a troupe of misery-curs, lying around senseless. Hope nudged one of them, it looked up sleepily at her, then rolled over. Gorged on self-pity.

“You really are miserable,” Hope said to Zorzio.

“There’s no need to be rude, hnmp,” Zorzio said. “I was just waiting for you to come and rescue me. I’m not sure how I got here, hnmp.”

“You were trapped in a dream of the past?” Brunhilde said.

“Yes, I remember my mother. A very stern but loving woman. She made delicious soup, wonderful leek and greens soup. But it was so hot. She demanded I eat it, even though it burned my tongue. I only have half the taste I should do, even now. Food is very bland, even spices I hear others describe as delicious are little more than sand to me. Still she meant well, hnmp,” he said.

Hope was tired of him again already. “Be silent! Heft your case and let’s find the road.”

Zorzio whimpered and grabbed his case. They made their way back to the road, and continued forwards. Hope’s aura shone out weakly, but there were no more attacks from the misery-curs.

The clouds above were black and dark, the air became damp and heavy. There was no sight of sun, nor sky, but a dull light suffused the air. The pathway ended abruptly at the top of a cliff. Great wide steps carved into the wall lead down into a depression. At the bottom a circle of stones drew their attention. A handful of pilgrims were making their way down the stairs, and a few more sat around the circle. Anticipation filled the air. Something was coming.

“The Omphalos. I was expecting something a bit more, but I can’t complain I suppose, hnmp,” Zorzio said.

Brunhilde grabbed Zorzio’s case and took it down the stairs. She ignored his constant pleading and advice giving. At the bottom of the stairs she dropped it to the floor. Zorzio leapt on it and caressed it like it was a baby, checking it for damage.

The floor around them was smooth natural stone, and the circle stones were like long spindles of water being drawn up into the air. Brunhilde tried to study the rest of the pit, but whenever she looked away from the circle the air was misty and dark.

“This is a sick kind of place,” Brunhilde said.

“Something hungry is coming,” Hope said.

They made their way to the circle. Around it pilgrims sat alone, each one gave off an aura of solitude. Nobody wanted to be disturbed, they were all locked in their own thoughts.

Zorzio settled down on his case, murmuring and whimpering to himself. Brunhilde crouched down beside him. Her legs were restless, she flexed and stood and then sat down. It was similar to the feeling before a wrestling competition or battle, but she had no idea what the foe might be.

Hope stood and watched the circle. Faint light shone around her head, she was on the last of her magical stores. Her hand dropped to her sword, and caressed the pommel. The sword’s capricious energy thrummed slightly from its scabbard, faint cold and heat in random bursts.

The Sponsor arrived. A dark swirl of cloud like the capstone of a well came into being above the circle. From the centre of the whirling dark came a voice.

“Approach, seekers of new life on the other side. Those who have been wronged may find passage to a better place,” the Sponsor spoke. It was all that they expected from a powerful being, a voice that rumbled through the ground, shook their very bones and disturbed their stomachs.

Zorzio sat up on his case, he seemed happy for a second. Then a waiting pilgrim stepped forward. “I’ll just have to wait my turn, hnmp,” Zorzio said.

The pilgrim, an aged woman, hobbled into the centre and raised her hands up to the clouds.

“My heart is broken. I am the last of my tribe, my children turned away from the old ways and left me, alone. To die,” she spoke with a plaintive wail that rose into anger.

An immense eye appeared in the centre, looking down at her. The size of it made it seem like a marble dome, but it shone with a liquid gleam like a living eye. It darted back and forth, studying the woman.

“You have suffered,” the Sponsor spoke. At those word the woman’s posture softened.

The eye disappeared and the clouds swirled. The outline of the woman blurred like chalk in the rain. Mist rose from her, tendrils that obscured her. Then she was gone as if she had turned to mist and been sucked up to join the clouds.

Hope hissed through gritted teeth. If she had any magic in her she would have strode forward into the circle to challenge whatever this eye was. But she had no power to protect herself.

Other pilgrims stepped under the eye and made their case. The Sponsor listened, humming consoling sounds and letting each pilgrim know that they had suffered, before taking them up into its realm.

Presently Zorzio’s turn came to stand beneath the eye, with his case. He opened his case gently. It was filled with parchment, carefully wrapped and organised. He took the first and opened it.

“The first insult I remember, I was barely out of the cot. The fire was far too warm, a cinder from it flew out and scorched my buttock. I still have the scar,” Zorzio started.

Hope settled down to listen. A quick count of the rolls she could see told her that they had a few hours of this.

Zorzio continued reciting all the pains of his life, carefully itemised on his scrolls. There was no accident or insult too small to be recorded in his files. At first the Sponsor listened, with its concerned hummings. After an hour the encouraging sounds slowed down, and a tinge of disbelief crept into them.

“Enough,” it spoke.

“I haven’t told you about my student years. Reed-neck, they called me, hnmp” Zorzio said. He reached into his case, searching for another list of pain.

“Stop talking,” the Sponsor intoned.

“I tried to laugh along with it, but you know there is only so much one can bear, hnmp.”

“I said. Stop. Talking.”

There was a change in the clouds, the swirl started to reverse. A wind picked up. The hum of the air changed subtly, now it was discordant. Hope and Brunhilde’s ears hurt from the pressure of the air.

The eye disappeared, but Zorzio was still reading from his list of sorrow. An enormous hand emerged from the portal of the Sponsor. It engulfed Zorzio in its clasp, and dragged him up. Unlike previous entrants, this passage was accompanied by the clouds’ sudden rush into the portal, like a plughole emptying of water. The humming stopped. Brunhilde fancied she heard a faint ‘Hnmp’ punctuate the sealing of the portal. There was nothing but brutal silence. Hope and Brunhilde were alone.

“Will it come back?” Brunhilde said.

“Possibly.”

“What was it?”

“Not something I want to know more about. Can we leave here, now?”

Brunhilde stood and considered the stone circle. Far above the dark clouds seemed to lessen. Perhaps the Sponsor was gone for good.

“I’m not sure Zorzio really got what he wanted.” Brunhilde said.

“You earned your five gold didn’t you?”

“That’s not my concern. I seek honour and glory, above gold. But gold is nice,” Brunhilde said.

“There is no honour in playing nurse-maid to the misery of others,” Hope said. She looked tired and exhausted, drained of magic she looked more fragile to Brunhilde.

“Where does honour come from then?” Brunhilde said.

“I don’t seek honour, I seek power. Honour constrains you; power frees you.”

“I think it’s the opposite.”

“Well one day, we’ll see which is true.”

“We will. Come, let’s get you back into the sun,” Brunhilde said. She threw a friendly arm around Hope’s shoulders. They made their way to the stairs, to climb up and into a new adventure.