Paul Kemp - Shadow witness

Cale nodded in sudden understanding. "I said, "we've got to get to the guildhouse.'" He looked over at Jak, still not quite believing. "You're saying that I made this, then?"

"You made it," Jak affirmed with a nod. "Your desire made it. Your expectations, your will, whatever. You made it."

Cale tried to make sense of that. His mind rebelled, but he slowly got his intellectual hands around the idea.

In the end, it really didn't matter whether they had physically moved or had themselves moved reality. Here they were, and they still needed to find a gate back, fast. The golden auras still sparked and sizzled, at war with the energy of the void. There was no telling how long they would last.

"So what now?" Jak asked. He reached for his pipe out of habit but stopped himself before reaching the drawstring on his pouch.

After a moment, Gale made the only decision he could. "Let's move," he announced.

"Where to?" Jak asked.

"To the basement," Gale said grimly. "Just like we had planned before. Let's see if anyone's home in this guildhouse."

Gale led as they warily descended the stairs, blades held ready before them. Silence reigned-the silence of the dead. Their breathing, sharp and tense, sounded to Gale as loud as a scream. The stairs evidenced no warping on this side of reality. Like the gates, the warping seemed to be only one way. He kept his back pressed to the inner wall as he spiraled down the stairs.

As with everything on this plane, a dim light with no apparent source illuminated the interior of the abyssal guildhouse. Through the gray, Gale could see clearly for only a short span, beyond he could only make out blurred shapes and movement.

"Light spell?" Jak whispered from behind him.

"No," Gale softly replied over his shoulder. If there were anything at home here, a light spell would only draw its attention. Gripping his enchanted long sword in a sweaty hand, he advanced. Ahead and below, the

• Paul S Kcmn archway that opened onto the long hallway hi the basement beckoned.

He turned to Jak and spoke in a hushed whisper. "That archway opens onto the main hall. The shrine is to the left. To the right, the hall ends with the storeroom. I'm thinking left."

"Left," Jak agreed with a nod. "But remember Gale, you're looking for a gate back to our plane, not the demon."

Without reply, Gale briskly turned to go-if he saw Yrsillar, he intended to put the bastard down-but Jak grabbed him by the arm and pulled him around.

"Listen, Gale, godsdammit," the little man whispered sharply. "Demons are stronger on their own planes. We don't want to face Yrsillar here. We don't Burn me, but we don't want to face anything here. We need to get back to our own plane first;"

Gale stared expressionlessly into the little man's eyes. Again he made no reply. He could make no promises. If an opportunity to fight Yrsillar presented itself- here or back on their plane-he would not pass it up, not unless it meant putting Jak in unnecessary danger.

Seeing his expression, the little man apparently understood his resolve. He released Gale's arm. "I'm with you either way, though," he said with a sigh.

Gale tried to reassure him. "I want to find a way back too, little man. I also want Yrsillar dead. Ill try not to let the one get in the way of the other."

Jak seemed to accept that. "I want him dead too, Gale." He hesitated a moment before adding, "If we kill him on his own plane, he's dead forever."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that if we kill him on our plane, we only kill his manifestation there. That doesn't really kill him. It just prevents.him from returning to our plane for a century or so. But if we kill him here…"

"We kill him for real and forever," Gale finished.

Jak nodded. "But it's harder, Gale, much harder. Like I said, he'd be more powerful here, not as easy as that shadow demon you killed before going through the gate."

Gale leaned against the wall while he digested the information. It probably did not matter much. He had no reason to think that Yrsillar moved back and forth between this plane and their home plane. This guild-house was probably empty. They had to find a gate back. •;.

"What will a gate back look like?"

Jak shook his head. "I don't know for sure. But I think well know it when we see it"

Gate gave a nod, and with that, they descended the rest of the stairway. When they reached the archway to the main hall, Gale stopped short and peeked around the corner. Jak squirmed between his body and the wall and did the same. Their simultaneous intake of breath was as sharp as a blade, but neither could look away.

As would have been the case with'lhe main hallway in the real guildhouse, the hallway here stretched left to the shrine and right to the storeroom. Doors dotted the walls, some open, but most were closed. No garbage littered the floor here, and the smooth, unwarped floor was bare except for some twenty or so indistinct gray forms.

Positioned at intervals along the hallway, they crouched low to the ground as though hiding behind something Gale couldn't see. If not for their occasional movement, he would have thought them an illusion, a trick of his eyes in the twilight. Bat they did move, and they were real.

Composed of swirling gray vapor, Gale could distinguish no facial features, could barely make out the rudiments of a man-sized bipedal form. The beings waited in absolute silence. Though Gale and Jak stared in amazement, the beings showed no signs of having seen them.

Abruptly one stood and loped back down the hall toward another pair that flanked the shrine doors.

It loped.

Gate recognized the movement. His eyes narrowed.

Jak must have sensed his sudden tension, for he asked in a whisper, "What are they?"

Afraid one of the creatures would hear, Gale grabbed Jak by the collar and ducked back behind the archway.

"Ghouls," Gale replied in a whisper. He held his blade ready and kept his ears attuned for the sounds of the approaching pack.

Rather than fear, Jak looked at him with a furrowed brow. "Ghouls? Those aren't ghouls." He peeked iwwk around the corner. Gale did too.

"Wait until one moves," Gale said.There."One of the figures rose andosssed the halL Though indistinct and vaporous, Gale couldn't mistake its low crouch, hunched back, and loping stride. Neither did Jak. The little man gave a start and both again retreated into the archway.

"Trickster's toes," Jaksoftly oathed.

"What kind of ghouls are those?" Gale hissed. "What is going on here?"

Jak looked as dumbfounded as Gale. "Let me think," he replied softly, and stroked his whiskers. "Let me think."

While Jak considered, Gale looked into the hall and kept his eyes on the misty forms of the ghouls. He did a headcount, twenty-six, all of them crouching low, all of them trying to hide in plain sight. Gale began to work through the rudiments of an attack. Though he could not distinguish features, he felt certain that some of the ghostly ghouls looked right at him. Yet none moved to attack. Their unnatural silence sent a chill up his spine. He ducked back. There was nothing to do but to attack head-on.

"It's like they're waiting to ambush us," he said to Jak, and readied himself for a charge.

Gale had anticipated an ambush in the guildhouse basement-in the real guildhouse basement-but he hadn't expected so many ghouls. Between the battle at Stormweather and Gale's necklace of missiles, Gale figured over thirty already had been killed. The Night Knives had numbered no more than forty men all told. Yrsillar must have transformed more Selgauntans into ghouls than just the Night Knives. He shuddered to think of what might have happened at Storm-weather if the attack had succeeded, if he had not driven off the shadow demon.

They are waiting for us," Jak suddenly exclaimed, and snapped his fingers.