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The trudge through the marshes was made worse by the light rain in the night, although the term "light" could be used loosely. Paths had sunk into the muck and wouldn't reappear until the sun dried them out several days later, so makeshift paths and detours were common on their way to where the abominable use of magic had taken place mere hours ago. Occasionally, one of the group would have to dip into the realms of magic to feel for the right signature when they took a much larger detour than planned and had lost their way.

What little information Darrius had managed to glean from the book helped him to identify the various creatures they saw. Such as the unusual green thing darting between the cannopy they had ducked into the undergrowth to watch, study and avoid.

Cha'kaar whispered to the boy. "Ah, now you see that? Thats-" However, Darrius cut him off.

"An Ether Hawk, I know. They hunt alone and can take various forms. Usually called a hawk because it'd hover above it's victim before swooping down for an attack, and would often toy with travelers should they disturb their homes." He flashed a quick smile at the wolf, who nodded slowly, clearly impressed.

"But do you know why they're called ether hawks, child?"

He shook his head, letting out a small sigh. "I didn't get that far before the... incident last night..." Cha'kaar ruffled the boys ears, smiling warmly.

"It looks like you're about to find out."

He jerked his thumb to the hawk, which had dived down upon a rather large and fanged looking lizard, grabbed it by the tail and swooped into the nearest tree. Not into the cannopy, but straight into the trunk and out the other side. The lizard had made it halfway through before the creature had let the poor things tail go, removing the ether's abilities from it, and perminantly fusing it into the tree. The hawk circled slowly, and as the creature died, possibly from trying to pump tree sap through it's body rather than blood, and feasted by drawing away the dying ether that made up the lizards skin, organs and muscles, leaving behind a rather macabre skull lodged at about head-height in the bark. With that, the creature flitted off for more interesting prey.

Darrius' face was locked in a struggle between horror and fascination at what he had witnessed.

"...They do this to travelers?"

Cha'kaar nodded as he stood up, believing the hawk had flittered far enough away.

"Oh yes, but they never consume them like the creatures. Too drawn away from nature, you see?" The blank stare prompted him to press on as they continued on their way.

"To better explain it, a lizard is more at one with nature than someone like us, they can't or choose not to feed on our ether lest it harm themselves. They normally leave travelers alone unless they ignore the boundries of their hunting grounds and scare off their game. They do what they did to that lizard, sometimes either fusing them into a tree completely, or just lodging their arm into a rock, or something. Others tend to be kinder and fly into them bodily and push them out of the boundries, and some can be more vicious, and snatch chunks of organs out of your body until you're nothing more than skin and bones."

Darrius let out a shiver, and patted the small of his back.

"I'm rather keen on my kidneys, thanks..."

Cha'kaar snorted at the comment. "You're handling your first time out in the deep marshes pretty well, you know? Others would have panicked and ran by now. And you need not worry about your kidneys, see?"

He pointed towards a tree that had various rocks, and an occasional bone or rusted piece of metal jammed into it.

"Thats the boarder of their hunting grounds, as long as you stay on the side with all the stuff lodged into it, you'll be safe."

Darrius nodded slowly, some of the bones looked a little too... familiar for comfort.

After another hour or so, they soon found their destination, a camp in the middle of a large thicket of trees that had protected most of the scene from being washed away. The stentch of blood hung thick in the air as they approached, and Cha'kaar soon noticed that despite his mounting uneasyness, the boys curiosity and inquisitiveness often pressed him to find out the truth of the matter, overriding any sense of panic that might grip him, which would be useful in life or death situations, as logic tended to be a better friend in such situations than blind panic.

Careful not to step into the gore, Darrius and Cha'kaar explored the area. Twitching aside a few embers in the fire revealed that they were still warm, despite the damp, and whatever had struck the person here had used scare tactics to make him easier prey. This was proven true, as a few sooty footprints remained on some of the loose stone and dirt.

As Cha'kaar made a sketch of the unsual footprint, he noticed the amount of rough, badly hewn stone. A simple nudge with his foot sent one piece tumbling away and remembered that upon reaching their destination, that they had to climb up a small hill. Unwittingly, the traveler had built his camp on top of a crumbling and long forgotten tower. He made a note to come back later and explore the area, as the marshes used to be grassland that belonged to ancient kings long ago, and such history should not be forgotten.

Darrius poked into the travelers shoulder bag, pulling out a few vials of spices and even a fistful of various jewelry.

"He was a merchant, male and fairly wealthy, if the contents of his bag and the tatters of clothes have anything to tell us..."

Cha'kaar simply nodded as he scrawled in his notebook, and the vulpine pulled out a neat little journal, with the name Sirus Rogen Imprinted on the front in gold lettering. A cursory glance at the last page entry told him that the merchant had refused a guide, or any sort of protection, and that he'd make the trip alone to save his coin.

Another flip through the journal mentioned a person named Niles, and some meeting place in the town of Gilden. Darrius brought this to the wolf's attention, which perked his ears up.

"Thats not too far from here... And I wonder if he means ol' blackbeak?" He plucked the journal from the fox's unresisting hands and flipped through the pages.

"He's been visiting him for years... and decided to cut through the marshes this time due to some urgent letter." The book closed with a snap as he stood up.

"Gather what belonging's are left around the campsite and take his bag, we're going to Gilden."

Darrius was growing steadily worried of this place, which stank of death and reeked of magic gone wrong, and was only to happy to scrabble together the items that lay about, dropping them into the bag with little care.

All set to leave, Cha'kaar unwound part of his wrist wrappings and tore it neatly, somehow folding the simple cloth into an origami bird. Holding it in one hand, he breathed on it, causing the wings to flutter as the cloth bird soon began to take on the appearance of a white sparrow, it chittered on his hand, and pecked idily on his palm as Darrius, all worries forgotten for the moment, stared in awe at the creation.

"Note for blackbeak. Me and my assistant are heading your way with some bad news about Sirus, we should be there by midday, prepare the rites. Yours, Cha'kaar. Send." The bird chittered once more before darting off into the cannopy and on it's way to Gilden.

Cha'kaar took Sirus' bag from Darrius and slung it over his shoulder. "You have had enough burdens for today, child. Let's go see the priest."

As they left, the stone that Cha'kaar had shifted, settled back into place, and the stones shifted, turned, and spun, soon leaving no trace of blood, campfire, or dirt.

~***~

A strangled cough was all Niles could manage. His bones ached, his head throbbed, and he felt like he'd ages twenty years. He was sitting on a bench in the small graveyard behind his tiny church, trying to enjoy what sun he could as the message arrived. He sighed and stuck his hand out as the bird few around his head, chittering madly, adding to his ungodly headache. The message did not help.

With it's duty done, the bird simply unfolded back into a strip of cloth, which was soon cast to the ground and stomped on by a clawed foot as he made his way inside and began to light the candles by the clensing altar. The light burned his watering eyes, the monks hood and robe unable to hide his beak, or his feathers.

Niles was a crow that had seen better days. His eyes watered at the mere glimpse of light, ached constantly no matter what he did, and the headache seemed to have picked up intensity over the past week. It felt like a blacksmith was using his head as an anvil.

The stress and worry over the protective wards he placed around the tiny town had aged him. A mere brush through his feathers would pluck one or two out, and the only solace he could get were sets of potions that man called Ebony sold him. Each time he took one, the symptoms would disappear for blessed hour or two, only to return with a vengence.

However, the potions were having a limited effect now. The aches and pains merely dulled, as did his headache, but they were still there, and still kept him up at night.

Some would think him ancient, he was barely twenty eight but looked to be halfway through his sixties and close to deaths door. He rubbed his eyes and stifled a cough, blowing out a candle by accident.

"Gods take me..." He muttered as he relit the candle and shuffled outside, the sun blinded him momentarily, but warmed his bones from the chill that had crept into them recently. As his sight returned he shuffled over to the town sundial through the dirt. The hand was close to midday.

Waiting, he took in the town once more. It was a sad sight, but it was civilization in the midst of chaos and the wilds. Every building was mud-streaked and look as though it had sunk down a little in the rain. This was because the mud in the area had a spongey quality, and would store water, wether it wanted to or not.

Five buildings made up the town, not including the church, and one of those doubled as an inn and tavern, if you could call it that. The rest were homes for those who just eked out a living. Either trying to grow crops that wouldn't turn mouldy, or get washed away every time or rained, or as woodcutters on the edge of the clearing.

As with most small towns, the church was built first, and a small community grew up around it. This town took longer to reach such a stage, as only the severely poor or desperate stayed. Or those who were so mad that they could see sanity's backside.

The monk was the only one who volunteered to be this far out to spread the word of their religion and god. He was regretting his decision to stay so far from modern civilization, so far from the few creature comforts that his clergy allowed. The stingy landlord of the inn called it beer, but it had more in common with pisswater. The others didn't care, as long as it got them drunk.

Today, the square was empty, save for himself and one lone woodcutter, truding through the mud to work on the other side of the village, and then they arrived, skirting the side of the church, Cha'kaar and a boy he'd never seen before, most likely his new assistant.

Cha'kaar barely got to say hello before he got a ringing slap across the side of his face, the crow panting from exertion and his ill health.

"That was for last time... Now get in..." He jabbed his finger towards the church, grumbling as he hobbled off, leaving the wolf massaging some life into his left cheek, Darrius with his mouth open at what just transpired, also at how well Cha'kaar was taking the hit.

"Friend of yours?"

"Last I checked, yes..." The lupine rocked his jaw side to side as he made his way to the church. "I think he might have knocked a tooth out..."

The inside of the church, despite the size outside, was rather roomy, if a little frigid, their breath turning to mist as they entered. The monk was standing just inside the door, jerking his head to the altar.

"Place Sirus on the altar... Or whats left of him." He eyes flickered to the bag that was held by the wolf.

As Cha'kaar set the bag down, Darrius took in the church. Mages and monks were notorius for not getting along, and it had been years, if not a decade since he last set foot in a house of worship. The altar was dedicated to Maraan, a healer god who took pity on their worshippers, who were usually poor, sick, or just down on their luck.

From what he could remember, the gods were not constricted to genders or even sentient forms, but they just existed and settled over the land they were worshipped the most in, much like a mist. It was the churches who decreed gender and form to their lords, as worshippers found it easier to pray to something with a face than the fog out the window.

This church, despite having a small flock and being in the middle of nowhere, had tapestries, silver candlesticks, rosewood pews and other little posh knicknacks. Usually the churches were twice the size, but judging by the soil outside, such a large building would probably sink into the dirt until it hit bedrock, so it was scaled down, and the excess money spent on the decorations. Nothing says "worship me and look after my house of praise" than silver and colourful pictures, because the place was spotless, aside from the thin trail of dirt that Cha'kaar and himself had dragged through.

At the other end near the altar, the contents of the bag had been laid out across it, the jewelry, the journal, his flask, everything inside. The crow looked it over for a moment and turned to Cha'kaar.

"Is this it?"

"Just about, whats wrong?"

"Whats wrong?" He muttered darkly. "Whats wrong? Their's no bones, no remains! You expect me to put his tortured soul to rest, I need something of his that isn't a trinket or bauble, like his skull, a bone, some flesh! Gods, even a bloody toe would have done!" His rage was tempered a little by his coughing fit, which nearly knocked him to his knees. Wheezing, and grasping on the side of the altar, he straightened up, still slightly wobbly.

"And damn this plague that has claimed me!" He swiped away the hand that was offered, and rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, panting.

"Do you have... anything at all that... that's along those lines, or not?" His voice cracked a little as a single tear rolled down his cheek. The rage had subsided not because he wanted it to, but because the headache had intensified, the mere glow of the candles seared lasting images on his eyes that seemed to burn at his very soul.

Speechless at this unseen display of emotion, he pulled out a bandage soaked in the blood they found at the scene, setting it on the altar and the other items.

"While the boy wasn't looking, I collected this." He mumbled, the usual air of playfulness gone.

"And what in the name of the gods happened to you, blackbeak? I've never seen you like this, or this ill..." He set his hand on the birds shoulder, and it was shrugged away.

"Don't call me that... Not anymore..." Niles breathed in deeply, and sighed, pulling out a small potion bottle that Cha'kaar immediately recognised as his own, pulled out the stopper, and poured the contents into his beak. Once again, his head cleared a little, the pains washed away to a bearable level and he opened his eyes, and gave a world-weary stare.

"If I do this for you..." He pointed at the bandage.

"If I do this, will you help me get rid of this damned plague? And I ask this of you not because I trust you, but because the wards I put up to protect the town are failing..."

It was this moment that Darrius poked his head into the conversation.

"Are you sure they don't just need redoing? If you like, I could have a go at it." He smiled weakly into the stare Niles gave him.

"Take no offence from this remark, but I would not leave the fate of my flock in the hands of a bloody spellslinger, especially one so young and so naieve to believe I'd put my faith in a child I've met for less than ten minutes..." He pointed at the nearest pew. "Go and sit down, out of the way, will you? Let the men talk in peace."

Cha'kaar hurried over to Darrius as he sat on the bench, looking a little dejected.

"Look, I'm sorry for his behaviour, Darrius. He's not himself right now, he's... sick or something..." The look of worry on the lupines face said it all, and was cleared when Darrius planted a kiss on his sore cheek.

"I understand, just make him feel better." He smiled weakly and nodded towards the altar.

"He's waiting." Cha'kaar smiled, nodded and headed back towards the altar, Niles narrowed his eyes as he approached, and mumbled under his breath.

"I see you've ensnared another one..." He said bitterly as he began to set the candles around the altar, placing them on markings dug into the altar. A line led from each marking, joining together, mimicing the stars in the night sky.

"Look, it isn't like that..." Cha'kaar leaned in so they wouldn't be overheard. "I... may have used the same methods, yes... But he's... well, different..."

"So was the last one." Niles lit a stick of insense and waved it through the air, leaving a scent of sickly sweet smoke to hang in the air over the bandage, placing it in a holder. The smoke drifted down towards the bandage, covering the small altar in a gentle misty smoke.

A small growl at the back of his throat accompained his comeback. "Don't you dare speak of her like that. Ever since-"

"Ever since what?" the crow snapped back. "What happened, happened. I've moved on now and so have you." He huffed and shook his tailfeathers, grumbling as the feathers settled. "May we never bring up what happened over a decade ago..."

With that said, he raised his arms up and began the rites.

"Mighty Maraan, may you watch over the remains of this lost soul and guide him to peace, let Sirus Rogen's soul be guided to this place of worship, and be set free from whatever tourment took him into the darkness. Let him see the light!"

The candles glow brightened, the lines on the altar carefully shifted and glowed, the circles shifting the candles rapidly across the altar, knocking the items from Sirus' bag aside, only the bandage remained, twisting and flitting through the air just above the candles, as though bourne aloft on the heat. Soon the candles skittered to a halt, their flames barely flickered from the movement. A small glance told him all that needed to be said.

"Whatever took him dragged his body, as well as his soul to another part of the marsh..." Another glance of the constellation. "Less than a mile away it seems."

The candles flickered, and began to shift again.

"Wait..." Cha'kaar pointed to the candles. "It's moving..."

"Impossible!" Niles' hands slammed onto the altar as it shifted rapidly, following the supposed corpse, the constellations changing rapidly as he moved towards the church.

"It seems..." Muttered Cha'kaar. "...That he took your rite seriously..."