"Hurry!" Ravin roared to outshout another thunder, his voice barely reaching Jules' ears. They stood beside him by the group of birches, with knives in their hands, shearing off their bark, desperate to gather firewood.

They had laid their cloaks on the ground under the trunks –they couldn't give them any protection against rain and cold anymore – and were throwing the white-brown flakes onto them.

Long, twiggy lightning cut the sky. The light was sharp and disappeared in half of the second. The clap which followed it was so loud that when the silence fell again Jules was sure he got deafened.

"How much more?!" he yelled. All the water hitting his face made him narrow his eyes and he could barely see the tree before him.

"Enough!" the hunter commanded. He bowed to gather the corners of the cloaks, making two big bundles filled with bark, and he threw them over his back. Holding them with one hand, he grasped his apprentice's elbow with the other, "Let's go!"

It was early afternoon, but the wood was as dark as in the dead of a moonless night. Only the lightning made it explode with light every now and then. The rumble of thunders shook the ground. The trees around were barely resisting the violent forces of nature.

There was only a faint, distant glow visible in the spurts of rain, eerie and ethereal like a friar's lantern - the rune Ravin had left in the entry of the cave they had chosen to hide in. It was large enough to contain them and the horses, and there were no bones.

When they stormed into the grot Jules tripped over a stack of branches. Trying to regain his balance, he leaned on the stone wall and ducked when he saw a dark shadow speeding in his direction. Another twig flew just by his head.

"Rogre?" Ravin roared, motioning at his apprentice to move aside.

The Captain emerged from the darkness, caring more sticks under his armpit.

"I hope they are less wet than... well, all the other," he muttered, trying to wipe the green needles which clung to his clothes. His hands and face were covered with shallow scratches, "I tried to get the lowest ones. Maybe we'll-"

Jules didn't hear the end of the sentence as another thunder drowned out the lord's voice. In the next second, he saw a web of lightning travelling through the sky. When it went out, he blinked several times, still seeing it reflection under his eyelids.

"Jules, take the bark," the hunter bowed to gather the firewood.

The boy grasped the bundles and dragged them deeper into the cave where the rain couldn't reach them. Ravin and the lord took the spruce's branches and followed him.

The cavern widened into a high- coped grot, long for about ten meters and wide for about fifteen. The horses were standing by the back wall, still saddled, as their riders had no time to take care of them by now. The Captain's chestnut mare was blindfolded; not able to see the flashes of lightning she was much calmer.

"Sorry it's taken so long," Jules muttered, approaching Opal and Grumbler. He patted his horse's neck and bowed to unbuckle the girth. The brown steed whickered and nipped the boy's thigh, "Ow! Bad horse!"

Grumbler whinnied with irritation. He met the boy's gaze with no sign of remorse. Jules rolled his eyes and unpinned all the sacks from his and Ravin's saddles to carry them to the middle of the grot where the men were spreading the bark and the branches on the stony ground. Then, he wiped both his steed and Opal dry, a bit envious of their comforts as his wet clothes clung to his body.

"Do you want me to build the fire?" he yelled over the storm. Ravin's silhouette was sharp in the flash of another lightning, while the man was searching through their luggage. A clap of thunder drowned out his words. "What did you say?"

"Get changed!" the hunter pushed something dry and fluffy into his hands. Jules conjured a little glowing ball of magic to see a pair of trousers and a woollen sweater. He dispelled the light and to undress and put on the dry clothes. When had Ravin packed them? Jules vowed to himself he would remember to pack a change of clothes for himself next time.

"How about the fire?" Captain Rogre came carrying his saddlebags. "Let's make it quickly!

We're not building it now," Ravin took the rod from his pocket and approached the wall to place a rune on it. It was the same one he'd used in the castle's bedrooms. "We have to save the bark and wood. We have little of it, and it must last for the whole night if the storm doesn't die down," he placed another symbol in opposite to the already made. Then he headed toward the entrance. "Wait for me"

"What is he doing?" the Captain wondered.

The rumble of thunder rolled through the forest again, filling the cave with a vibrant echo.

"He's securing the cavern," the boy explained, "Dark forces are stronger during storms, my lord, and the place is probably haunted. Many people died here."

Captain Rogre's face took on a worried expression. "Do you think they will haunt us like the healer's ghost?"

"I don't think they can be as strong as her after all these years," Jules unrolled his bedroll. There was a coverlid made of fur hidden inside. Jules threw it onto his back and shoulders and looked at the man again, "I hope we won't have to spend the night here. Melissa was powerful, but she was the only ghost. It is much more of them here."

The evening didn't bring much change of the scenery: the forest outside the cavern couldn't get any darker, and the sky was already as black as tar.

Jules spent most of the afternoon sitting on his bedroll, wrapped in the fur, chewing chipped beef. The storm was so loud it had drowned out most of the small chat Ravin had with lord Kedmon. The boy didn't bother to eavesdrop; the mixture of darkness, thunders and flashes of lightning made him rather uneasy, and he was trying hard to convince himself that the shadows flitting by the entrance to the cave were only the product of his imagination.

"So, you and your wife... What happened to Vivienne?" Captain Rogre scratched his beard, chewing slowly at a piece of dried meat. "Was she taken by the plague a few years ago?"

This time Jules raised his head to look at his master with curiosity. The hunter was sitting on his bedroll; in the glow of magical light he kept conjured, the scar on his face seemed bigger and uglier. Now he arched an eyebrow and looked at his old friend with distant eyes.

"The plague took many," the hunter sighed in the darkness.

His words were followed by a bolt of lightning. The boy looked toward the forest brightened by the flash of light.

A group of dark postures was standing between the trees, around the cave's entry, as if waiting or something. Jules flinched; he opened his mouth, but the scream froze on his lips. The lightning went out, the darkness fell again and the shadows melted into it.

"What was it?" Ravin posed a hand on his apprentice's shoulder. In the faint light, the boy's face seemed pale and his icy blue eye appeared brighter than usually.

"The dead," Jules whispered, gazing into his master's dark eyes, "There are outside. Many of them."

"The dead? You mean, ghosts?" the Captain asked nervously, but neither the hunter nor his student paid any attention to him.

"Let's build the fire," Ravin decided, "Give me the bark."

The boy complied quickly; he placed flakes on the ground, and the older mage pulled his rod out of his pocket. He kneeled by the little stack and flicked the rod several times, drawing a golden symbol just in the air. It was Igniret, the rune of fire.

Flames licked the bark slowly, somehow timidly, but birch burned well even when wet. Ravin reached for more flakes to feed the fire. Then he handed his rod to his apprentice.

Jules nodded and got up. Bowed, he was moving around their small camp, drawing a burning hoop around the campfire and their bedrolls. He tried not to look in the forest's direction; the thought of the beings lurking there made him uneasy. Soon the circle was ready; magic run through his body, a warm tickling sensation is his veins, and into the rod. He drew protective runes along the ring, the warmth slowly leaving him dry.

"Give me that," Ravin had broken the spruce branches into smaller pieces and composed them into a cone above the bark. Now he gestured at his apprentice to hand him the rod. "You'll exhaust yourself."

"I'm almost done," Jules watched the hunter finishing the drawing the last runes. Once the protective circle was ready, a wave of warmth filled the air like a breath of a summer wind. The boy missed it when it was over. "Will it be enough to keep the shadows away from us?

"I sure hope it will," the Captain muttered, as he looked at the cave's entry as if suspecting to see an army of ghost preparing a siege. "It was supposed to be an easy trip."

"I've never said it'll be easy," Ravin sat on his bedroll, the rod ready in one hand, the reila waiting by the other. Seeing that, Jules pulled his weapon closer and the bow out of its case. "And I can't recall ever calling it a trip."

"But we are more or less safe here?" Captain Rogre inquired.

Jules peeked at the forest, but couldn't see much in the darkness. Even his blue eye was useless now, but with his Sixth Sense, he could feel a weak, strange presence. A cold shiver ran down his spine and he came back to his bedroll to cover himself with his fur.

"They are only shadows, but they still can be dangerous if we're not careful, especially during a storm which, fortunately, is letting up," Ravin told his friend, "Just don't leave the circle."

"Easier said than done," the Captain sighed, readjusting his sleeping bag to sit comfortably." So, coming back to the topic..."

"The topic?" The hunter arched one eyebrow at the other man.

"Your wife, Ravin. Your wife," Captain Rogre reminded. "Or would you rather not talk about her?"

Jules looked away, seeing his master's eyes got even darker and his face tensed. The Captain surely lacked the sense of self-preservation, pestering the hunter with questions on a topic he was clearly avoiding.

"Why don't we discuss your marriage, John?" Ravin said in a deep voice.

Captain Rogre opened his mouth to say something, and although the boy saw his lips moving, he couldn't hear his words. The thunder that rolled down from the sky was so loud it almost shook the cave. As the darkness by the entry thickened. The runes on the ground flared up with a golden light, then went out.

A sharp, musty reek of moisture, decay and rottenness filled Jules' nostrils. The air chilled and turned frosty despite the fire.

"It's her!" Jules grabbed his reila and pointed it at the entry. "Melissa's here!"