The third cell held two women, both human, one slender, one more muscular. The slender one had a cloth sack over her head, tied on with a rough rope — she appeared to be conscious, holding her head high, but made no sudden movements. The other was out cold, laid in the corner of the cell.

There were several unconscious bodies — a halfling, a horned-devil-like creature, the huge man with the orcish features, another human lady with powerful muscles, an old grey-bearded dwarf, the elf that had been chained upon the dais, and an older human male.

‘I think they've been through enough,’ the dragon-man, Rhasgar, was saying to Tradden. ‘We're going to have to get them out of here and get back to Winterhaven or Fallcrest somehow. Bahamut knows how — its got to be at least a tenday from here if not too. Plus there's Korosphylax and Aethelinda to worry about.’

‘As for the others, the dwarf and the half-orc seem to have recovered the quickest. They may even come round in an hour or two. The girl and the old man look like they'll be out for a bit longer, and the elf's in pretty bad shape. We could do with fresh air and clean water for a start.’

‘I'll take the lady,’ offered Zero, quick to interject. ‘I'm sure she'll be lighter than she looks.’

Runners scurried ahead of the group, some heading to the temple, others to raise the Town Council. The guards, with the bodies over their shoulders, moved quickly towards the temple, the group following. By the time they got there the acolytes had already risen and were preparing makeshift cots inside the stone building. With reverence the bodies were laid out in the chamber, the shroud-wrapped body of the halfling Ulmo placed down behind the altar. Salves and liquids were found and the acolytes brushed away the sleep from their eyes and began to care for their charges.

‘His Radiant Servant will be with them promptly,’ one of the female acolytes said to the group, probably Dania, Zero thought. ‘They are all badly wounded, but I am sure the Light of Pelor will shine its glory on them and heal their wounds.’

The first held the woman that Zero had carried from the ruined keep. She looked ashen grey, laid there with a white blanket draped across her. A thin film of sweat covered her face and her breathing was ragged, her ample chest rising and falling in a chaotic rhythm. It was obvious to Khalin that she was in the throes of some fever, perhaps as a result of infection from the branding that covered all of the chests of the people they had found alive.