Diavla woke slowly. It was still dark, and she was cozy and warm for the first time in over a week. She stretched contentedly, smiling smugly to herself. Her human lover was sleeping on his back at the moment, but wasn't snoring. She lay her head on his shoulder and draped one arm across his stomach, savoring the warmth that radiated from him.

I could wake him for more sex, she thought idly, but pushed down the temptation. No, he needs his sleep. I should let him be. She relaxed, her soul reaching out to his ever so gently. No meditation, no calls to the spirits, just one soul to another. After a moment, she sighed in both contentment and awe.

I knew sex was supposed to be great, but I never realized how... She found herself blinking back tears for a moment, and paused the thought to compose herself, then tried again. I never realized how tender, how...intimate, how wonderful it is just to lie here with him, our souls and bodies touching. In his arms, I am...happy.

She sensed a shift in Tom's soul as he slept. I think he's dreaming, she guessed. There was a soft, little flicker of something against her thoughts, as gentle as a butterfly's wings beating. She furrowed her brow a moment, reaching out to sense more carefully.

The spirits are touching him. He's having one of his magic dreams.

Diavla did her best to focus her mind and slip into meditation. She had accidentally joined Tom's dream once before, and was eager to do it again if possible. It took a moment to still the excitement that threatened to distract her. She took slow, deep breaths, and concentrated on doing what was needful.

It was difficult; at the same time, she had to both focus on Tom's dream, and let go of her own wakefulness. She found herself reaching for one of Eubexa's odd little meditation tricks, and gave herself the command to sleep. But that didn't work.

Instead of being both unconscious and awake at once, the state Eubexa led her and Tom to every night, she needed the opposite. She needed to be conscious, yet asleep. Like a flickering trick of the eye, she reversed the state of her soul, and slid into Tom's dream.

Again, she found herself at first in a formless white mist, with a slight chill in the damp air. She willed herself to follow Tom and join him, and a campfire emerged from the fog. Several men sat around the fire, but somehow she sensed that they were not the same men Tom had been with the first time she had done this. She did her best to approach quietly, but she was spotted.

A giant of a human, with a thick black beard streaked with gray, sat on the far side of the fire, looking directly at her. His eyes flickered back and forth between her and someone to his left; she recognized Tom after he came into focus. He was sitting with the others, sipping from a mug as the men chatted.

These are his friends. After a heartbeat, she understood. These are his friends who died. She pressed her palms together and bowed slightly to the big man, then slowly approached the group.

"We have company," the giant informed the others, speaking in perfect Elvish. They all turned to look at her. Tom got to his feet, followed by everyone else.

"Diavla." Tom looked slightly confused. "You're...here." The fog seemed to waver and thicken a moment, then settled back down.

"I don't mean to intrude on your time with your friends."

"We have no objection to another visitor," the giant said with courtly etiquette, "especially someone close to Tom. Please, you are welcome." The other men all nodded in agreement. Tom was staring at Diavla, smiling.

The heavily tanned man on Tom's other side elbowed him. "Hey, introduce us."

"Oh!" Tom seemed to settle his soul. "Everyone, may I present Diavla Urula, formerly of Kilder Vald, and the woman I love." There were murmurs of congratulations around the campfire.

Diavla smiled at everyone. Her soul was warmed by the declaration, but inwardly she was glad Varga hadn't heard that. Apparently, Tom didn't realize his misstep. Well, this is a place of honesty. In time, love may grow between Tom and Varga, but for now, I am his first.

"Good evening, gentlemen." She looked to Tom, who gestured at the big man.

"Diavla, this is Sir Kurt of Briarwood—"

"Retired," the giant cut in quickly.

"Obviously," one of the men snickered, receiving a brief glare from his boss.

Then Kurt refocused on Diavla with a serious expression. "Miss Urula, on behalf of all of us, I apologize for our contribution to your captivity." He bowed deeply. The other men ducked their heads.

That stung.

It stung the way an arrow did when it was pulled out. A tiny piece of a soul burden drew attention to itself as it wore away. That was well-spoken—no excuses made, no forgiveness begged or demanded. Simply an apology with true remorse.

"Thank you, Sir Kurt. Saying that...helps me." She took a deep breath, and looked around at all of them, then let it out, leaving her soul slightly lighter. "It is forgiven. You only helped guard our cage for two days—Tom did as much, and I hold no grudge against him. He freed us, and you were all his war-brothers. To me, that redeems you all."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sir Kurt said thickly. The other men mumbled agreement.

"You found yourself a classy one, Tom," one fellow declared.

"I really did," Tom said with no little smugness. "Diavla, this is Vlad." He went around the fire and introduced the rest of the men. Some of their forms were more distinct than others; two were hazy and seemed unable to speak.

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She settled herself next to Tom on the log he was using as a seat, and pressed herself against his side. Tom told her more about each of the men, occasionally with corrections from the others. She got the feeling that he was sharing nearly everything he knew about his friends. She learned that he had only known them for two days before the attack on the caravan.

She looked around, listening to the conversation, trying to understand these souls. Are they inhabiting Tom's dream? Or is this a place that exists in its own right, that Tom can visit and bring me along? Temple scholars could argue all day about this. But here and now, it is simply an experience, and a chance to know Tom's fallen friends.

The men seemed to relish the chance to talk. Diavla wondered what state they were in when Tom wasn't dreaming of them. They almost acted as if they were alive, but at death's door, grateful for anything that prolonged their experiences, gave them a few more minutes of precious life. They also seemed...constrained, in what they were able to do or say. They repeated themselves a bit.

Do they only exist as far as Tom remembers them?

The conversation went on, and during a brief lull, she spoke up, "it's so nice to hear a lively conversation in proper Elvish."

"Huh?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We're speaking Western. So are you."

Most of the men seemed confused, but Kurt gave a grunt. "The language of the soul," he rumbled thoughtfully.

"Sir Kurt?" Tom asked.

"Don't call me sir!"

Tom ducked his head in apology a moment. "I know you can't teach me anything new, but...I'd be very grateful if you would review with me the little I had time to learn from you."

The giant's face softened, and he looked moved. To cover it, he coughed loudly and spoke roughly. "Well, we can do that—on condition that you stop calling me sir!"

"Yes...Kurt."

"I can still hear the sir," the retired knight grumbled, but still he stood, and moved away from the fire. Tom followed eagerly after a quick glance at Diavla, checking that she was all right first. He looks out for me. She decided to stay by the fire with the other souls.

"Did he always train all of you this way?" she asked.

"More or less..." Julio was hushed by Vlad. "What?"

"Nothing she doesn't already know!"

"No, it's nothing Tom doesn't already know," Julio argued. "Tom or Diavla," he added after a moment.

"Is that right?" one of the men asked quietly, sounding confused and worried.

"Shh, don't interrupt Tom's lesson."

They all fell silent for a minute, watching as Tom went through a drill Diavla recognized. Sir Kurt kept stopping him, and each time after he froze in place, the giant made small adjustments to Tom's stance. Then Tom would begin again. The signs were subtle, but both men seemed very glad to have this extra time together.

"Hey, Miss Diavla, can I try to hold your hand for a moment?" Julio asked quietly.

Diavla was curious. "Yes." She held out her hand as if offering to clasp his forearm. Tentatively, Julio reached out and gripped her hand, gently but firmly. She could feel his calluses, and smelled the scent of the man. The others looked around at random, as if expecting an angry voice from the sky, but nothing seemed to change.

"I shook Tom's hand at least once," Julio explained. "I was hoping this would work." He took a deep breath. "Thank you. I am grateful, beautiful lady, for the chance to hold hands with a woman one more time." He turned her palm downward, and bent over as if to kiss the back of her hand, but stopped a short distance away. He held there a moment, then sighed and straightened up. "Well, demon shit. Now I wish I'd kissed Tom!"

At that, all the men around the fire burst out laughing, as did Diavla. "I'm glad you didn't," she admitted, causing another round of laughs. Tom and Kurt paused their lesson and glanced over. They were human souls, so probably hadn't caught the words at that distance, unless this place aided them oddly. Kurt looked curious, but Tom just beamed at her, and his smile warmed her soul. He trusts me to be friends with his friends.

"Let's give them as much time as we can," Vlad murmured, as the two big men went back to the lesson.

"Hear hear," the others agreed, quietly but fervently.

"Would you like a drink, Miss Diavla?" Nictal offered.

"Thank you, but I don't care...for...human...ale..." She looked down to find that she was holding a full wineglass. She lifted it curiously, then took a sniff. Her eyes filled with tears at the unexpected but familiar scent. "Bramblethorn wine," she murmured, feeling intensely homesick.

"Elves make wine from bramblethorns?!" Vlad exclaimed, momentarily breaking the spell. She looked up at him.

"No, it's the name of the valley where they grow the grapes," Diavla explained.

"Oh, all right. That makes more sense. Is it any good?"

"It smells of home," she said, a bit brokenly, then took a sip because she didn't trust herself to speak more right then. The wine tasted just as she remembered, a bit of extra tartness, a hint of atlan spice in the flavor. She savored it on her tongue, then swallowed in satisfaction.

"I'll give that a try," Nictal declared, and lifted a wineglass of his own. The others all promptly followed suit, eager for a new experience. Vlad tossed his back at once. Julio took a questioning sip. All of them made sure to taste the wine.

"Thank you, Miss Diavla," Julio said a minute later. The others all echoed the sentiment.

Are they starved for entertainment? she wondered. "I don't suppose you have bards appearing here," she said, making it a bit of a question. A couple of men seemed about to answer, but caught themselves and looked at the others.

"I'm afraid we can't answer that, Miss Diavla," Vlad said, after a moment of silent communication between the men.

"Well...would you care to hear an elven song?"

Julio's eyes went wide with surprise. "Please!" The others all murmured agreement.

Diavla took another sip of wine. I wonder if I can get drunk here? With a thought, she was drinking water, and took a sip to clear her throat. What to sing? She considered just a moment, and one song called out to her strongly. Not thinking about it too deeply, she took a breath and began to sing:

"The rains have fallen in the valley

The winds have blown between the hills

On roads I never chose to dally

Yet far from home I feel winter's chills

By summer sun I promised to find you,

By autumn storms I lost my way,

I hope the banyan tree does remind you,

I wish I were with you today

Oh fate, oh chance, the great divider...

'Twixt plans and the life that arrives...

The canyon between us grows wider...

The spirits sent us different lives...

By winter's twilight I swear an oath,

By spring's green renewal I'll see,

A road and a bridge to unite us both

Beneath the great banyan tree

From now until then, I'll always miss you,

And towards you I'll search for my way

One day under the banyan I'll kiss you

Oh I wish I were with you today

Oh I wish I were with you today..."

Diavla fell silent, wiping tears from her eyes. No one spoke. At some point during the song, Kurt and Tom had walked back to listen. The silence stretched. She was about to apologize for her song choice, when Julio, of all people, stood and bowed deeply to her.

"Thank you, Miss Diavla."

"I'm sorry, I'll choose a more cheerful song next time..."

"Life has joy, and life has pain," Kurt rumbled. "We welcome the gift of either, for either makes us feel alive. Thank you, Miss Diavla." His form grew less distinct, and she saw all of them, the campfire, everything except for Tom fading. The giant looked at his translucent hands. "Until next time, I hope." Kurt bowed, then turned to Tom.

"Read my book, boy," he demanded with great seriousness, then faded away.

Tom and Diavla were alone in the mist. They embraced, and Diavla felt Tom's warmth surrounding her. "We'll get you home someday, Diavla," he promised. She pressed the side of her head against his chest, and listened to his heartbeat. Standing there, she had a sudden insight. She tilted her head back to look up at him, squeezing him a bit tighter.

"I miss Salathin, very much, Tom, but...in your arms, I am home."

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