Albträume, elf dreams, nightmares…

The female visitor’s strangely attractive face entered his dream. Horrific and vaguely female, the creature had fiery red eyes, unsightly wings, and long muscular arms ending in long curved talons, which were covered in dark ichors.

“Did you like my gift?” she queried.

“How did you accomplish the deed?” Saligia answered.

“I did so as you, General Saligia. The bewildered eyes of Hennery’s inner circle saw you tear down the gates, rip three guards to pieces, approach the renegade, and tear Hennery apart. You left with his head. Now they think you a shaman and warrior. His worthless spawn Hennery the Ninth beat a straight path to Aulgmoor to bow before you and kiss your ***. You will not be challenged north of the Ornash River. But as my colleague told you, trouble stirs to the south, and the Drelves disrespect you. Listen well to your new ally. The Droll has means to deliver the promises etched on the parchment you received,” she replied.

“I may as well ask the question that has been in my mind since you first invaded my dreams. What do you want from me?” Saligia replied.

Talking in his sleep no longer surprised the Kiennite. Hearing Lord Saligia’s mumbling no longer alarmed Cu Seven when he guarded the General’s chambers.

“A simple task. My Master wants you to deliver a Drelve Spellweaver,” the female responded.

“I’ll gladly hew any Spellweavers I find, Your Master can have their heads, their hands, their whole cursed bodies,” Saligia growled.

“Alive. Alive, Lord Saligia. My Master requires you bring the Spellweaver to him alive,” Amica answered.