Written: June 2002 / Conceptualized: December 2001

      He still felt like falling. The stone had crumpled under his body and given way to the lava pit deepdown under Kardis Temple. He had been hardly conscious, nearly choked byWagnard’s inhuman deathly grip.

      He still felt the volcanic heat burning his skin, his ears ringing fromthe roaring bellows of the everlasting earth-fire. The minimum of air hehad been able to drew in through his crushed and soar throat had beenfull of smoke, causing him to cough painfully.

      He could still sense the blood red depth that had spread beneath his falling body through his now closed eyes. Or weren’t they closed? Was hestill falling? He wasn’t sure. Then he remembered the pain. His fall had been stopped abruptly when his body slammed onto a ledge. The impact had expelled his lungs of air making breathing even more difficult.

      He wasn’t falling anymore. His lungs burned because of the lack of oxygen but he was surrounded only by acid like smoke and fumes. Lying face down, hardly conscious hewondered about the sudden stillness. The roaring of the hell-like fire deep down had ceased to a low whisper. Had he become deaf?

      He felt something cold on his face and opened his eyes wide. A pair of black eyes hovered above him, surrounded by fire. He tried to speak but only managed to croak something unintelligible. Someone pulled him up, closer to these obsidian black pools of darkness. Curiously enough he somehow felt safe. The last thing he noticed before he lost conscious was a sudden vanishing of the surrounding image.


      The shattering sound of metal hitting stone awoke him. His grey eyes opened slowly. As if there was not enough strength left to just open the eyes. Someone freed him from his armour carefully. Piece by piece was removed and obviously dropped carelessly. His body ached hideously despite the efforts of his rescuer to move him as less as possible. The pain was everywhere and every breath brought more pain.

      His eyes were open, but he wasn’t able to see clearly. Everything wasconcealed by a strange red fog. There was another sound but very distant and not identifiable. A female voice, soft, dark and warm. It murmured something, words that were incomprehensible.

      Suddenly the fog disappeared. Instead there was a light. And with the light the pain disappeared. Not the whole pain but the worst part of it. Breathing wasn’t that painful anymore. The red fog disappeared but still everything was vague. There was someone, dark skin, red hair and a pair of black eyes. The eyes looked down worried. Soft fingers stroke back his long black hair, that had fallen over his eyes and gently pushed it out of the face below.

      "You’re safe now. Sleep, Ashram, sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

      The surrounding darkness came closer. His grey eyes closed and he fell asleep.


      Ashram slowly awoke from his deep dreamless sleep. He noticed something wet on his lips and opened his eyes and saw a young female dark-elf at his side. He remembered seeing that red hair and the black eyes before and for one moment was puzzled. The young woman was dressed with a white, yet dusty tunica with some colourful ornaments at the collar and the sleeves. The red hair was brushed back and hold by a black hair-ribbon. Nevertheless, the long curls hung around her shoulders like a wrap.

      The young dark elf dipped her fingers in a bowl of water and gently passed them over his lips. A sigh of relief was the answer.

      "You must be very thirsty. And you still have fever.”

      She put the bowl aside and turned towards him. Her left arm under his back, holding his head in her elbow she carefully helped Ashram to sit up. Then she sat down behind him, resting his back on her chest. Her left arm still hold him while her right hand reached for the bowl.

      "Here, try to drink.”

      She placed the bowl at his lips. Drinking in little sips he at first noticed a disgusting taste of blood and dirt in his mouth, but after some more sips it vanished. When the bowl was empty the dark elf put it aside still holding him in her arms.

      "Do you fell better now?”

      "Yes,” his voice sounded somehow unfamiliar to him. Harsh, rough and nearly broken. “What is your name? You know me, am I right? Where did we meet, I can’t remember.” He had to stop. His throat was dry and started to hurt as well as his head. He rested his head on her shoulder. He felt hot and cold at the same time and sweat was running down his face.

      "My name is Branwin and we have never met before. Yes I know you. Every dark elf knows how The black Knight looks like. And when I stumbled over your nearly dead body, it just took me one thought to guess who that black haired man with that moon white skin and the black and golden armour could be.” She smiled. “But you have to drink.”

      "How long have I lain here?” he rasped.

      Without answering his question right away, Branwin reached for the bowl and her waterskin. She poured some water in and then placed the bowl again at his lips. Without any answer he emptied the bowl, too and after that rested his head on her shoulder again. He closed his eyes, but didn’t fall asleep at once, like the last time. He could hear some water splashing and then felt something cold and wet all over his face. Carefully Branwin washed the sweat away.

      "I know that you aren’t sleeping. But let your eyes be closed, if you like.” Branwin dried his face and gently pushed back his long hair. “I’ve found you four days ago and some hours later you woke up the first time. Up to now I have healed most of your injuries.”

      "I couldn’t breathe,” Ashram whispered, remembering the pain.

      "Most of your ribs were broken. This hurts badly and your lungs can’t work properly. I really don’t want to know what you have done to get beaten up to this stage. But that is all over now. You just need some time to gain your strength back.”

      Ashram frowned, “I hate to be helpless and depend on others.”

      "I’m not ‘others’,” Branwin replied calmly. “I’m Branwin and I was brought up in a Temple of Falis. Helping people is my duty.”

      "The former Lord of Marmo was nearly asleep and to tired to understand what she had said. But it was somewhere in his mind, waiting to be realised in the right moment. Branwin softly laid him back on to a thick woollen blanket and covered his body with a blanket that was made out of fur.

      "Sleep, Ashram, sleep, I’ll watch over you and your dreams.” And Ashram fell asleep, but this time not dreamless.


      He awoke to darkness. He couldn’t see or feel anything. Not even the ground underneath his feet. Was there a ground at all? He tried to walk but which direction should he choose? Suddenly he saw a little distant light. Very distant and very small, but he took it as a sign and ran towards it. After a while he noticed that the light didn’t change, he couldn’t reach it.

      "NO, that can’t be,’ he yelled. ‘Where am I?”

      But there was no answer, not even an echo.

      "I won’t give up. I’ll reach that light.”

      With these words he started to run again. But it was the same as before. He didn’t reach it. Exhausted he had to stop and rested for a while.

      "Help, me, Ashram. I need your help.”

      Ashram look up and tried to find out, where this voice came from. It sounded somehow familiar.

      "Where are you?” he asked into the darkness. “Help me Ashram. Wagnard has kidnapped Deedlit, and he will kill her to revive Kardis.”

      Ashram hold his breath shocked. That was Parn’s voice. Parn asking for his help, deep under the Castle Conquera in the temple of Kardis. He had refused to help him and instead tried to kill him.

      "Ashram, Ashram, where are you?”

      Another voice that send him cold shivers over his back. That was Pirotess’s voice.

      "No, not her”, was all he whispered.
“Ashram, why didn’t you help me?” asked Parn’s voice.
“Ashram where are you?” Pirotess’s voice called for him.
“Ashram, why didn’t you help me?” asked Parn’s voice again.
“Ashram where are you?” Pirotess’ voice called.
“Ashram, why didn’t you help me?”
“Ashram where are you?”


      "NO, leave me alone. Go away.” Ashram put his hand over his ears. “I don’t want to hear that.” He fell on his knees. “You are dead Pirotess, you are dead.” He felt something wet on his cheeks. “You are dead. And nothing will bring you back to me.”

      His eyes filled with tears and they started to stream down his cheeks. Embarrassed he tried to hold them back, but the pain in his heart grew to big and he couldn’t stop them, anymore. After a while he calmed down.

      "Forgive me Pirotess. I have waited to long to confess my love for you.” He took a deep breath and wiped away the last tears. “And Parn, you trusted me and I … I …. I hope you could rescue your love.”

      A deep sigh. He looked up. The light had come closer. It was a wonderful light, warm and soft, surrounded by absolute darkness. He stood up and reached out for it with one hand. From behind he could hear Pirotess’s voice again.

      "I’ll wait for you, Ashram. I want you to live my beloved.”

      "Pirotess,” he whispered her name like a prayer. “Is Parn dead?”

      "Parn lives, Deedlit lives. You have to live, too.” Pirotess’ voice answered.

      "But I could hear his voice as well.” He held his breath as to try to avoid the answer.

      "What you have heard was what you never wanted to hear. It was your guilt, that you never wanted to know. It was a part of a truth you always tried to ignore.”

      Ashram closed his eyes.

      "Go through the light and live.”

      He opened his eyes and turned around. But there was nothing but darkness.

      "I will remember.”

      With these words he made the final step into the light and his consciousness blacked out.


      Ashram opened his eyes, For a moment he feared to still dream, for everything was dark.

      "No, not again,” he whispered feeling his heart beating faster. A candle was lit and spend a little light.

      "You are awake ?!” Branwin leaned over him, looking directly into his eyes. “Are you thirsty or do you want something to eat?”

      Ashram sighed in relief. “Branwin, it is you?” For a moment he closed his eyes."

      "Who did you expect? A goblin?”

      He could hear her laugh, a little warm laugh.

      "No, I didn’t. I don’t know what I expected.” He paused to bring order in his thoughts. “I’m hungry and thirsty,” he answered her first question. Branwin kneeled at his side to help him sit up, but he looked at her coldly.

      "I feel strong enough to get up myself.” That sounded harsher then he meant it, but he didn’t wanted her to be near him at the moment.

      While he tried, he became aware that he wasn’t wearing his amour. He pushed the fur blanket aside. He was nearly naked, but for a kind of loin-cloth, most parts of his body were bandaged. Some of them showed bloodstains on them. Then he noticed that he laid in a bed with high sides on both ends. He looked around. On one side of the room there was an open fire-place with a small lit fire. Near the bed stood a small chest with the candle on it.

      "Do you want to sit up or stay like this?”

      Branwin gave him a friendly smile, ignoring his consternation. He lifted his body up into a sitting position and Branwin placed a big cushion behind him to lean on. After that he had to rest, exhausted from this short action.

      Branwin stood up und left the room. He could hear her talk to someone but couldn’t make out who to. When she came back she held a small bowl and a jug in one hand, a bigger bowl in the other. Ashram quickly reached out for the fur blanket and pulled it up to his chest. Branwin ignored this, too. She sat down to his side.

      "Do you think you are strong enough to eat on your own or shall I help you?”

      Ashram looked at her doubtfully. Did she mock him? But he only saw true concern and interest. Her eyes held his attention. He had never seen anyone with such black eyes before. It wasn’t possible to see where the Iris ended and her pupils started. Her face was elfin, but not really elfin. Her ears shorter then he knew them with other elves. And her dark skin not as dark as that of other dark-elves he knew. And the shape of her body was irritating somehow. She was taller and not that slender as a elf-girl would have been. Her red hair was wonderful, long and curly and it had a soft silk-like shimmer. Her clean white tunica reached down to her knees.

      When she had left the room he had seen that it was open at both side from the hips to allow her to move freely. She wore dark blue trousers underneath it and around her waist she had a brought belt that showed a small waist. Ashram was used to deal with servants but this girl sure didn’t behave like a servant, though doing the same work. It was something different with her. The way she moved and talked was self-confident and kind of .. indifferent? Branwin put one hand over his eyes. He lifted his right arm and put her hand away. She still looked at him, waiting for something.

      "Ashram? Do you think you can eat on your own or shall I help you?”

      Ashram took a deep, a very deep breath. “Oh. …. I don’t think I need any help.”

      Branwin gave him the big bowl and a wooden spoon. It contained a thick soup that smelled wonderful. Ashram started to eat. It tasted as good as it smelled and he ate quickly, suddenly aware of how hungry he was. Branwin placed the small bowl on the crest and purred some water from the jug in it. After he had finished the soup she reached him the water bowl. Ashram stopped, looking at the small bowl in his hand. He remembered how her wet fingers had softly stroke over his lips. She must have done this while he was sleeping , he thought by himself. His throat wasn’t coarse anymore and he wasn’t that thirsty. But he drank the water. Branwin took the big bowl and stood up.

      "Where are you going?” he asked when she reached the door.

      "I’m back soon,” Branwin turned her head and smiled at him.

      "The soup was .. erm …,” he stuttered, “it was good. Thank you.”

      She smiled. “I’m back soon.” With these words she left the room.

      Ashram leaned back against the cushion. He could feel how the soup warmed his body. A good feeling. He closed his eyes and suddenly the pictures of his dream came back to him. ‘What does it mean?’ he wondered. Pirotess, her last words. He shook his head.

      He could hear someone at the door and saw it opening slowly. He expected Branwin, but it wasn’t her. Instead a little dark-elf girl with straight brown hair and wide open blue eyes stood in the open door and stared at him. Ashram’s lips stretched in what he hoped was a friendly smile.

      "Hello, who are you?” The girl just stared. “I won’t bite you.”

      "Dear, what are you doing here?”

      Ge could hear Branwin’s voice. The girl’s face suddenly was fearful and she looked as if she wanted to start to crying.

      "Sch, sch, sch. Everything is fine.” Branwin kneeled in front of thegirl, consoling her in her arms.

      "Who is she?” Ashram’s voice sounded strained.

      Branwin looked up.

      "She is an orphan. My uncle found her some days ago.”

      Ashram said nothing. He could imagine why this little girl was an orphan and he somehow felt guilty.

      "Is she dumb?”

      He asked after a while, watching the tender scene somewhat embarrassed. He was more used to see blood and pain. The gentleness exposed to him so obvious to him made him feel uneasy.

      "I don’t know. But she hasn’t spoken a word so far. Maybe she doesn’t want to speak. But that isn’t a problem, isn’t it dear?” Branwin said to the girl with a warm and loving smile. The girl snuggled in her arms and still stared at Ashram.

      "Does she know who I am?”

      "He looked directly in her blue eyes and the girl slowly nodded. “Oh.”

      "He couldn’t say more. Suddenly he felt tired, very tired. He turned his head away unable to bear this sight anymore.

      "Dear, I think our guest has to sleep a bit. You can visit him next time.”

      Branwin said while standing up. Gently she stoke over the girls head. The little girl stood up as well and, with a last look at Ashram, left. Branwin closed the door after her and came over to him.

      "You really need some sleep. But I think at first I’m removing those bandages. They are no longer necessary.”

      "With these words she pulled the fur blanket away and started to remove them. Most wounds had healed well and were nearly invisible, but others could still be seen as red marks on his white skin. Ashram closed his eyes, he didn’t want to remember how Wagnard had tossed his body through that cave, crushing him against walls and pillars. He didn’t want to remember the pain.

      And even more, he didn’t wanted to see Branwin working on his nearly naked body.

      "Ashram, are you all right?”

      Her voice sounded afraid. He opened his eyes. “Yes, everything is all right. I wish you would leave me alone.”

      His voice was harsh and cold, his face emotionless. Branwin just smiled.