The sickening thud of the battering ram sounded dully once more.  Lord Calavan was literally running along the ramparts, screaming orders to his generals.  At his signal, oil was poured on the battering crew attacking below, and flaming arrows followed.  The screams of humans aflame filled the air, and the attack broke off.
    At least, the direct attack, had broken off.  Attacks at the flanks of the castle were pressing on, and the archers within were hard pressed to keep up.  Thavirat's archers were of the best in the known world, and had inflicted heavy losses to the defenders.  But the defenders were at an advantage - they had a castle between themselves and the others.  Casualties were running nearly equal between the combatants.
    Lord Calavan regarded this news as horrible.  Thavirat's men numbered two for every one he had, and more reinforcements were still on the way.  It was easy to see how Ethanac Garrison had fallen to an army such as this.
    The defending archers drove back an attack on the eastern side of the castle.  Quick to follow up on this opportunity, one of Calavan's generals ordered a cavalry charge.  The result was brutal - Thavirat's forces on that side were routed completely.  This was only momentary, however, as the attacker had forces everywhere, and they slowly began to close in on the cavalry.  Quickly, the cavalry was ordered back before any further casualties could occur.
    "Lord Calavan!"  Father Dabiri cried out, running quickly to catch up with the ruler of the city.
    "Yes, Father?" Calavan was instantly attentive - whenever Dabiri had something to say, it was usually important.
    "Look at the north field!" Dabiri declared, gesturing.
    At first, Calavan saw nothing unusual.  The rows and rows - phalanxes and battalions - of soldiers were lined up and orderly, waiting their turn to attack.  Then, he saw.  The lines, even those not currently under harassment by archers, were beginning to waver and fall out of step.  A few moments later, Thavirat's offensive had ceased altogether.
    "This can't be because of our attack!" Calavan declared.  Their most recent attack had been successful, but it would take at least ten more just like it to even begin to dent their numbers.
    "It is not."  Dabiri declared, trying to get his breath back.  "Stinnett has fallen, as well as another great evil.  Thavirat had been controlled, at least to some point, by Stinnett himself... without the demon, perhaps their ruler has come to his senses."
    "You mean to say that Stinnett has been destroyed?" Calavan was incredulous.
    "No, he has just been deprived of his form for a time."  Dabiri paused.  "This would be a good time to rest our people - it will not last long."
    "Lord Calavan, shall we attack?" one of the younger generals had appeared and overheard the recent conversation.
    "Of course not!" Calavan said.  "We can't kill them now that they've come to their senses!"

    Michael staggered drunkenly for a moment, trying to get his bearings back.  The power had drained out of the sword nearly as quickly as it had appeared, but it had been there long enough to destroy Stinnett's physical form.  Again.  Michael wasn't fooled - his same sword had torn Stinnett to shreds before, but only his physical form.  His spirit had gone on to regenerate itself.  No, it was not over, he thought grimly.  He sheathed the sword, looking at the small stones that the demon had dropped before his demise.  Were these the stones that Dabiri had spoken of?  They didn't seem particularly evil... but if Stinnett wanted them, then they most likely were.  And Stinnett was alive - somewhere, so they couldn't be allowed to fall into his hands.
    Making up his mind, Michael scooped up the stones into his own palm.  They simply lie there coldly - exuding no power whatsoever save for the chill of the cavern itself.
    An inhuman cry sounded behind him.  Michael whirled to see Donovan, staring at his fallen master and shrieking in horror.  Michael reached to unsheathe his sword, but as fast as he was, the stones were faster.
    An intense burning pain flared up in the knight's hand, causing him to cry out unexpectedly.  Nausea overcame him and an intense headache stabbed brutally through his mind.  There was a flash of brownish-yellow light that seared out toward Donovan, engulfing the other before he could articulate a coherent word.
    And then all was as it had been.  Donovan was no longer there - indeed, no trace of him remained, not even ashes.  Michael was sprawled on the ground, violently retching, trying desperately to unclench the fist that had formed around the stones.  His mind was a jumble of thoughts, shattered into thousands of pieces, and trying vainly to put itself back together.  Pain greeted every movement - every breath, every twitch, every thought.  There was no feeling on the side of his body that held the stones.  Dimly his consciousness drifted into and out of awareness, until some time later, he passed out.

    "Gentlemen, I am truly, truly thankful that you have agreed to see me."  Thavirat began.  He was again in the Eltain council room, speaking with Lord Calavan and Father Dabiri.  There were two differences between this council and the last that had occurred:  Thavirat was talking like a sane man, and there were about three times as many guards.
    "It seems" Thavirat continued.  "That I have made a grave error.  These past few days, I have thought of our previous discussion.  In light of this recent bloodshed, which I will admit, has no excuse, I wish to end this war with the formal withdrawal of my troops."
    Lord Calavan nodded.  "It is good to hear that you have... reconsidered the situation."  he said diplomatically.  His actual thoughts were along the lines of 'come to your senses', but that would not be politic at all.
    Thavirat nodded enthusiastically.  "Yes... I agree.  This bloodshed should end.  I have with me" here he paused to reveal a short parchment "a written contract, which states that I shall pay reparations, from this day until your kingdom is fully satisfied.  Even with this, I believe that I can never make right what I have done."
    Lord Calavan ventured a glance at Dabiri, who didn't move.  "Very well, I accept your terms, Thavirat."

    Stinnett's spirit hovers around the incapacitated body of Morhaime for quite some time.  He considers possessing it - it would be a suitable enough host body.  But the knight has the stones he reminds himself.  And there's no telling what could happen if he tried to possess someone who held the stones.  It could be the end of him.  No, that was something that he would rather not risk.  Stinnett moves his spirit with mere thought, flying ethereally through the tonnes of rock which made up the mountain.  As he does so, he hears a high-pitched noise - some sort of music....  Stinnett drifts toward the source, which is deep below the surface... the music intensifies, changes pitch rapidly, almost randomly, but still remains music.  The sound of thousands upon thousands of voices, calling out praise, echoes through Stinnett's essence.
    Stinnett enters a large cavern.  At its bottom, heading toward the exit with a sense of purpose, was one of Dabiri's clerics.  Wrapped in an aura of light, she is the source of the sound that brought him in here.  And in her hand, she holds The Goddess Herself.
    Stinnett recoils suddenly, fearfully, abhorring from the sound and the Goddess from whom it comes.  Mindlessly, he flees through the ether as fast as his thoughts can take him.
    Some time later, his reason returns to him.  He is far from the world - indeed, he had nearly left this universe and entered the interim - the space between universes.  Had he done that, he would have most likely never found his way back.  Stinnett grimly begins the trip back to his world.  At length, he manages to locate it.  He avoids the mountain altogether, instead heading toward his armies at Eltai.  Disgust wells up within him - his armies are removed from his influence, and this is what happens?  Thavirat, the spineless jellyfish, surrendering to Dabiri's people?  Anger extends throughout his consciousness, and Stinnett passes into the Eltai castle.  Inside, he sees the dying that his armies have inflicted.  Mentally smiling, he continues through his tour.  In the upper chambers, he finds Dabiri's goddess.  She too, radiates the music and power that The Goddess did, but not nearly as intensely.  Still, Stinnett cringes, and retreats from her.  He is too weak as spirit!  he thinks impotently.  He wanders further, until he finds a sight that angers him once more.
    Thavirat, his personal puppet, is squealing for mercy to Dabiri and Calavan.  Anger suffuses him, and before he can think better of the action, he has entered Thavirat's body.