Paul Kemp - Shadow witness

"Quiet," Gale hissed, and looked in alarm around the corner. Except for an occasional shift of position, the ghouls hadn't moved.

They can't hear us," Jak said aloud. "And they can't see us either."

Before Gale could stop him, the little man stepped brazenly out into the hallway. Cursing, Gale leaped out beside him, blade ready for the swarming pack.

The ghouls showed no sign of noticing anything amiss. Though Gale and Jak stood in plain sight, they continued to crouch and wait.

With one eye still on the misty ghouls, Gale looked to the little man.

They're like the shadow demon, Gale, but in reverse. This vapor shape is their manifestation on this plane. Like the shadowy form of the demon is its manifestation on our plane." He stated it as though it were obvious, but Cab's confusion must have shown on his face.

"The transformation from man to ghoul must result in some sort of dual existence, part of them here, close to the Abyss, but most of them-their corporeal form- on our plane." Jak tapped his chin and went on, "But they aren't powerful like a demon, are they? No, they have a dual existence, but must not have a dual consciousness. They can't see into this plane, which means that they can't see us." He looked up, smiling. "Gale, this guildhouse must correspond to the real guildhouse. Back on our plane, these ghouls are waiting for us in the real basement, but they can't see us here in this basement." His hand went from his chin to the luckstone at his belt and he smiled broadly. "Mask isn't the only one with us tonight, Erevis. The Lady's decided to come along as well."

Gale couldn't argue. He looked around at the ghouls crouching, lurking, ignorant of their presence mere feet away. The little man's theory fit the facts. Gale could picture the ghouls' fleshy forms back on then-plane with their stinking, rotted skin, filthy claws, and vicious fangs. He realized that the ghouls crouched like this because they were hiding in the real basement, behind toppled chairs and debris that didn't manifest in the abyssal guildhouse.

They couldn't see or hear him, but he could see them. He had only one question.

"Can we kill them?"

Jak's pleased expression grew more serious at the thought of killing. "I don't know."

Gale advanced a few steps down the hallway, vengeance for Stormweather on his mind. "Only one way to find out."

Jak grabbed him around the wrist. "Wait, Gale."

Gale stopped, looked into his friend's green eyes.

The little man looked uncertain. His gaze looked past Cale to the misty ghouls. "Erevis. How can we do this? I can't fight a creature that can't defend itself."

Cale placed a hand on Jak's shoulder, "They're evil, Jak. Well do it quick and clean."

Jak still looked unsure so Cale gave him a slight shake, knelt down, and looked hard into his eyes. "I know they were men once, Jak. But what they wen doesn't matter now, only what they are. They're evil, and we have to do it."

Jak looked feck at the ghouls, then at Cale. He gave a slow nod.

Cale patted him on the shoulder and rose. "You wait here, little man. Leave this to me."

With that, he walked past Jak and into the hall. The ghouls did nothing as he closed, merely waited in an ambush that would never occur. After a moment, Jak fell into step beside him, short sword and dagger bared.

"I said I'm with you, Cale."

Cale gave a hard nod and together they advanced on the nearest ghoul. Still no sign of alarm: Cale stood over the crouching creature with enchanted blade held high. It looked right at where he stood, unseeing, ignorant of the threat.

Gritting his teeth, Cale cut through its throat with a powerful forward slash. He needn't have swung so hard. The feel of the blow reminded him of the way it had felt to wound the shadow demon back on their home plane, slight resistance, then sudden give. Like slashing a pudding.

No flood of purple spilled to the floor, and no scream of pain resounded in the hall. The ghostly ghoul clutched its throat, writhed silently on the ground, and suddenly disappeared. Cale wondered if back in the real guildhouse, purple blood had pooled about the nearly beheaded corpse of a ghoul.

Must have, he thought, because the hallway erupted into motion.

Misty ghouls lurched from their hiding places and charged to the point where the body would lay. There they stopped, confused. Seeking an unseen foe, they turned about and clawed at the air. So many surrounded Cale and Jak that they seemed engulfed in the morning fog that rolled off the Elzhimmer River-located off the far shore of Selgaunt Bay-most autumn mornings.

Cale gave Jak a reassuring glance, then the two friends set to work.

Grim-faced, Jak ran one through with his enchanted short sword. It buckled, clutched its gut, collapsed to the floor, and disappeared. He stabbed another one through the face with his dagger, to no effect.

"The dagger won't bite," he announced, unnecessarily loud in the otherwise silent hallway. "Only magical weapons will work." He sheathed the dagger and gripped the short sword with both hands.

* Mercilessly, Cale sliced the head from a ghoul, then another, then another.

Confused and falling dead without explanation, the pack milled about in the hall. They jumped at one another, clawed and bit at the empty air. In the chaos, individual creatures became difficult to distinguish. Cale now saw only a swirling fog. He knew the hallway back on their home plane must be awash in purple Mood, gray bodies, snarls, and guildhouse debris. Here, there was only silence.

v sliced indiscriminately at the mist and killed ghoul within reach. Unable to defend themselves, unable even to see their attackers, the ghouls died one after another. Without mercy or remorse, Cale

; them down. He felt no guilt, only grim satisfaction, ghouls that had attacked Stormweather, had preyed on the defenseless, had cut down men armed with dinner utensils and women armed only with screams. They deserved what they got.

For Stormweather, he thought with each slash, for Thazienne.

The survivors swirled around him, confused, close to panic. He raised his blade highA sudden realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. He stopped in mid-stroke and looked beside him to Jak. "Yrsillar doesn't know we're here;" he said, certain. "He thinks we're still in the real guildhouse."

"What?" With his short sword, the little man ran through the gfcoul Cale had spared. It collapsed, writhed, and dissipated into nothingness. "How do you know that?"

Cale took no time to explain. The panicked ghouls started to mill down the hall toward the shrine. "Don't let any get away!"

He ran down the hall and ripped one of them in two with an overhand slash. The misty body split neatly down the middle and dissolved into nothingness. He cut down another, and another. Jak leaped into their midst and did the same. None escaped.

Afterward, he and Jak took in the spotless hallway, their unbloodied clothes. Back on their own plane, the hallway must be littered with carnage. He and Jak had administered a slaughter and yet remained clean. He found that thought unsettling.

"YrsiDar must not know we're here. He knows his ghouls are vulnerable to attack from this plane. If he had known we were here, he would have been waiting for us himself, not allowed his ghouls to be slaughtered this way."

Jak winced at his choice of words. Pretending not to notice, Cale waved his blade around the hall to indicate the implied carnage. '"They were waiting to ambush us in the real guildhouse. They didn't have any idea we were here. Neither does Yrsillar."

Thoughtful, Jak scratched his head and finally nodded agreement. "Makes sense. We've only been here a quarter-hour or so. That's not very long. He must not yet have learned that we passed through the gate and survived, much less stumbled onto the planar correspondence."