The morning brought no comfort to either Jemaine or Laura. Too fearful of being stabbed in their sleep, both took turns to watch each other. But Marsilus had not seemed too keen on spying on them though Diane had angrily demanded that he post guards outside the room, just in case either sister would try anything dangerous. Marsilus told her it was a waste of time and manpower.

Worse still, the first of the fighting broke out at dawn. Before sunrise, Jemaine was rudely awakened by the shouts and curses and the screms of the dying. Laura sat by a slightly open window flipping a coin to pass time.

The younger elf smiled complacently as a tirrade of explosive oaths erupted from her sister. "I was waiting for you to wake. What do we do now?"

Jemaine shrugged as she fastened the pin of her cloak. "We'll make good our escape through the window. Those stupid humans outside won't miss us."

"It's a long way down," Laura muttered.

"Well do you have any other idea?" her sister snapped irritably.

Laura's eyes shone in excitement. "Yes! We can stay Jemaine, prove our worth by fighting these barbaric Larkelonians." Her voice now carried soft and high like the winter breeze seeping through the window. "Just think of all the people we can help!"

"I don't want to help people!"

Laura shook her head resolutely. "I must stay, Jemaine. You told me when we were young that a woman must know her course, her calling in life. This is mine. My goddess appeared to me in a vision. She says we must fight the evil that sweeps over the land. You are my sister Jemaine. You must help me!

"I will waste no effort on a petty human problem," snapped the stubborn wizardess, on her way to climb out the window.

"But you are a mage, Jemaine! The evil that is over us is necromancy! It is your task to do what you can to protect your magic from this corruption, this sacrilege to the gods! I hear the High Sorcerer was captured by these necromancers. He is the key, Jemaine. Once we find him, set him free, we will have nothing more to do with this. Besides, I've also heard that the High Necromancer intends to gather up all his minions over Bardos to fight the Conclave. And then where will you be?"

She knew she hit the right gut. Jemaine would die for her magic if not for anything else. Her magic was the only power she ever had.

"Your arguments are valid, sister," Jemaine finally gave in. "We'll go after the fight is over."

At that moment, the door burst open and a blood- and brains-spattered Marsilus stumbled in, fending off a Larkelonian soldier. Shutting and bolting the door behind him, he beckoned to the two elves.

"You have to go." He coughed up some blood and wiped his sweat-streaked forehead. "It's a slaughter out there. All my men are dead, they hold Diane hostage. Blasted Larkelonians have necromancers. I'll buy you time to work your spells and prayers to leave."

Laura shook her head mildly. At the touch of her hand, his wounds closed and healed as if they had never been. However, the fracture on his leg remained. Laura could not cure that one, inflicted by a cursed blade of the necromancers.

"You'll do no such thing, Marsilus Vairon." She smiled the sweet guileless smile of a child. "If we leave, you will come with us and be safe. Trust me..."

And he was drowning in blue, the sounds of arcane spell words and prayers filled his ears into oblivion...

He awoke to stifled giggling that soon erupted into ringing laughter. Laura and Jemaine were laughing almost to tears as Marsilus rubbed his eyes feeling queer all over.

"What hit me?"

Laura laughed so hard she almost collapsed. "What hit him, he asks us, Jemaine! My sister cast a spell..."

"I have never seen a man faint because of a teleportation spell!" Jemaine giggled.

With an effort, they both managed to control themselves until only their shoulders quivered. Laura even managed to regain her composure and support the crippled half-elf.

"What do you suggest we do now, sister?" Her blue eyes were now fixed on Jemaine, her brow furrowed with worry and concern for the injured soldier. "I have never been to this place and I'm certain I've never handled such a difficult case," she added, implicating Marsilus's condition.

Jemaine's face was decided, her jaw clenched with determination. "We have to get somewhere safe first. Obviously, friend Marsilus here cannot go on very much longer and we certainly cannot leave him either."

The half-elf's pale parched lips parted slightly in what was meant to be a ghastly smile. "I'm touched by your concern ladies but there is only one direction we can go and that is across the border." He winced in pain as Laura laid her delicate hands on his injured leg, calling on her goddess to heal the terrible wound. It closed but the blood was still visible, the pain still excruciating. "Border patrols of those damned Larkelonians will most probably capture us, but it beats dying in a Kaaronite ambush where they hack you to pieces."

The sisters exchanged looks; each could only imagine the horrors of prison. But Marsilus was right. And the gods had given them one choice and one choice alone.