They were at the Gates of Paradise.

Just now it was hard to see why the Ashlanders had given this place so grand a name. Nothin but swirlin steam over a flat ashen plain, pockmarked with boiling pools and vents. Capillaries of scalding water crisscrossed the grey earth everywhere like scars, forcing Olms' gaan to choose its footing slow and careful. 

The steam, heavy with the bad-egg reek of sulfur, was so white and thick you could hardly see ten paces in any way you cared to look. 

A four day slog north from Zar Yiin, through trackless boulder fields and forests of thin, blue-needled pikepines had brought them here. Olms rode in front, slumped relaxed in the saddle, Sword across his back, pale eyes alive beneath the low brim of his hat, lookin for shadows in the swirling white mists. 

Behind him Gabul and Aiva- for that was her name, the barkeep turned wizard's pupil- shared a gaan, and muttered quietly to each other. After a few days roughin it with them in the emptiness of the Ashlands, Olms knew they weren't sharin lovers' whispers back there.

No, the Drathan was teachin her the mysteries of his kind. Explainin tenets of sorcery, or the history of his strange race, or the movements of the stars. 

To Olms' untrained eye, at least, the girl seemed a gifted student. 

The night previous, the three of them sittin quiet around the low campfire, Gabul looks at her with those black eyes, nods to the fire. She sits up straight, jaw clenches but she doesn't otherwise move. 

Olms feels the hairs on his neck rise, feels the Sword give a little hungry shudder. 

The fire explodes in a burst of sparks, then dies. 

Aiva opens her eyes, frownin and studyin the smoldering remains of the wood. Olms throws her a wink. 

"Nice work," he says. Puttin a fire out just by willin it so- that ain't nothing to scoff at, the way he sees things.

Gabul's face remains impassive, and it's to him that she is lookin. He shrugs and says, "The embers still burn."

Still, thinks Olms, not bad for less than a week of lessons.

Now, a small breeze blows in from the east, and the steam from the boiling pond to their left is blown out of their path somewhat. Some leagues ahead, low, crooked mountains are visible, black against the grey horizon.

"That's them," said Olms, "Where we're headed, the Claws. Once we get through the Gates, it's just the Smoking Forest between us and the uplands."

"I know where we are," said Gabul in his soft, low voice.

Olms smiled and turned in his saddle to face the wizard and his student, "That was for the benefit of the lady."

Aiva smirked. 

"Thank you, Delavan," she said. She tended to call Olms by his first name, like no one else had done for a long time. "I 'preciate not being kept [i]completely[/i] in the dark."

Her eyes and her smile turned toward Gabul, sitting behind her. His face remained expressionless as ever.

"You will learn of our errand as we complete it," he said, "as I have told you."

"Strange to take someone along on a journey when you don't them trust enough to explain your purposes," said Aiva. Olms raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," said Gabul, "It is. Strange also for you to join a mercenary and a wizard on a trip into the wilds without knowing their destination. Perhaps we are headed to some hidden altar to the nameless gods, and are bringing you as a sacrifice?"

"Thought had crossed my mind. But then I remembered that devils tend to eat virgins. 'sides, [i]you[/i] both haven't spent your whole lives in Zar Yiin," she said with a bitter laugh, "puts the risk of getting killed in perspective."

She was quiet a moment. "Why do they call this place the 'Gates of Paradise' anyway?"

"The Dratha do not, nor do the Nyr'kiin," answered Gabul, "What bugfolk call this place in their clicking tongue translates to 'Bittersoup', for the poisoned water. Dratha call it the Land-of-Bright-Shadows."

He fell silent, as though he had answered her question. She opened her mouth to ask a new one, but Olms shook his head.

"The aelgmen named this land, they think it close-by to God," he said, "You'll see why."

They rode on among the seething lakes and belching springs. As afternoon wore on to evening, the rays of the sinking sun caught the swirling eddies of steam and filled them with light, painting the mist in hues of gold and scarlet. The once-dreary thermal plain was transfigured around them, the waters and steam bright with all the colors of sunset.

The trio stopped in the middle of it. None of them spoke. Driven by the light breeze, a pillar of steam washed over them and they found themselves lost in a glowing cloud.

"I..." said Aiva.

"This is least of the wonders I will show you," said Gabul quietly.

[i]To say nothing of the horrors,[/i] thought Olms. But he did not speak.