Dermanassian had dreamt of the burning river and so he was not surprised when, as dusk approached, he rounded the mountaintop and saw the river mighty and serpentine in the valley beneath, a village and its fields lassoed in a thin loop of its fire.

As he descended, he saw that the moat was patched together from converted and widened irrigation channels. Raised drawbridges of stone and iron sat at intersections of road and river, allowing the only access to the village. Distant folk tended their flocks and fields, and the sharp ting of a hammer striking metal drifted on the breeze. Wooden watchtowers dotted the village and its encircled surrounds.

At the edge of Dermanassian's vision, a wagon neared the village at a wild gallop. The wagon jerked and rocked and the horses ran as if possessed, leaving a wide cloud of dust behind them. From even farther away a second trail of dust pursued the fleeing wagon and, given its sharp angle and greater speed, he judged that whatever created it would catch the wagon before it reached the moat of fire.

Being much too far away to lend his sword in the conflict-- f even he knew which side to favor--Dermanassian simply watched in the growing darkness. The wagon did not reach its destination. Its pursuer, which revealed itself to be as large as one of the horses as it ran closer, sprang upon the lead horse. Even from the mountain, Dermanassian heard the horses’ terrified squeals as one's back was broken and the others were dragged to the ground in a heap of flying hooves. The wood of the wagon snapped and three figures leapt from it, racing toward the fiery moat. Their cat-like pursuer pounced upon them in a few strides. As the creature snapped them apart, the last blush of sunset faded and Dermanassian saw no more.

None saw Dermanassian as he approached the flaming river the following morning. His clothes, all of the softest gray, blended easily with most terrain. His movements were smooth and graceful. From a distance, the only notable thing about him the cool glow of his blue lotus sword. But the sword--still naked, as it stubbornly cut through all attempts to sheath it--swung behind him in a harness of black cording, invisible to any villagers who might have glanced up the mountain's slope.

Upon closer inspection there was much about Dermanassian that was different. His shiny black hair was pulled into a thick braid tied with the same cording that formed the dreamsword's harness. His skin had been called bronzy by some, who likened it to brown silk over burnished gold. His heavily-lidded black eyes were quick, but methodical. More than all this, however, were the distinctive angular features of a Desert Elf.

Dermanassian passed the shattered and blood-stained boards that had been the wagon. Its cargo of cloth and hides was torn apart and scattered. There was no sign of the four horses or the three people except dark, gooey smears in the earth that smelled rancid as the rising sun heated them. Learning what he could from the wreck and his curiosity increased tenfold, he moved on to the river's banks.

He squinted in the heat rising from the burning river. The river was rushing and wide; its shimmering flames flickered their ever-changing reds and yellows, oranges and blues, and even whites high above its banks, dancing and crackling as they swept downstream. Dermanassian did not know the source of the river, whether a blistering spring from the very center of the globe or another world altogether. He did not know the end of the river, whether it filled an unknown fiery lake or steamed into a faraway ocean. The village, however, was there in the distance and he wished to see what sort of people would populate such a place.

He frowned with distaste at the thought of the swimming through the river. Certainly he had protections, but testing them against such an obstacle would not be wise. Instead he went to the nearest drawbridge, sat in the field, and waited.

It was hours before four riders appeared on the other side, their figures smeared as he gazed at them through the fire. They rode wide farm horses more accustomed to harnesses and yokes than the weight of riders upon their broad backs. A dark gelding with a crooked blaze down his nose smacked his lips uncomfortably at his bit and stomped his feathered feet in protest. An old sway-backed stallion rolled his eyes. The riders looked no more at ease than their mounts, armed with mix of poorly-balanced spears and javelins that they gripped like pitchforks.

"Who're ye?" Without preamble or welcome, the oldest of the men called over the continuous crackling of the burning river. His hand twitched on the leather reins and his dappled mare flicked her bob-tail in response. He reminded Dermanassian of fear-biters--dogs that became more aggressive as they became more scared.

"Dermanassian."

"Der-" he stumbled over the name.

"Dermanassian. Some call me the Gray Mist."

The rider's eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed with skepticism. He had lived in the village his entire life and, during that time, found legends were not predisposed to wander into it. It would be too much to hope that their luck had changed. "Right then. What're ye doing 'ere?"

"Visiting." Dermanassian watched the villager's reaction, not surprised his name had preceded him into this country and accustomed to disbelief that he was who he claimed.

The rider of the blazed gelding kicked his horse forward before jerking him hard in the mouth to stop again. The gelding gave a low buck of irritation. "Don’t ye know no better? No one visits 'ere. Ye just move on now, got it?"

Dermanassian ignored him. "What is it that turns farmers from their black soil onto the path of war?"

"T'ain't your business, sure 'nough. Probably in league with the beast yerself," the rider scowled. The oldest of the riders gave the speaker a hard look, shaming him into clamped silence.

"The beast?" asked Dermanassian, knowing they spoke of the creature he spied the evening before.

"What do ye know of it?" One of the other riders asked suspiciously as he fingered the wooden shaft of his weapon.

"Nothing," Dermanassian shook his head, "although I suspect it is the reason for your ringing yourselves with fire, erecting watchtowers, and greeting travelers with weapons ready."

"What're ye? A soldier?"

"Renegade, more like," the rider of the sway-backed stallion muttered.

"Neither," Dermanassian said.

A look of cunning crossed the face of the oldest rider. "Yet ye have the look of a fighter about ye. Are ye a good one?"

Dermanassian inclined his head. "Some have said as much."

Then the group of villagers and Dermanassian stared at each other wordlessly until, once again, the oldest spoke. "Lower the bridge," he said.

The youngest climbed the stone and wood structure and, working a pulley system, lowered the bridge in a series of clicks. Dermanassian briskly walked over the bridge, feeling its stones quickly heating as the flames of the river roasted them. It was little wonder that few dared to come here. When Dermanassian crossed the burning river, the bridge was quickly raised again.

The oldest continued. "That is the hilt of a fine blade, I reckon," he said, pointing to the black pommel that peeked over Dermanassian's shoulder and trying not to stare at the Desert Elf's exotic features.

"Yes."

"No doubt yer a man a great courage too."

This was hardly the first time someone tried to flatter Dermanassian into action. But such dissembling was unnecessary and ineffective, for, knowing of the villagers' bane, he could not in good conscience ignore it and walk away when he could aid them. "Why do you not simply ask me to stand against this beast if that is your wish?"

The riders sat in momentary silence, their horses reflecting their embarrassment by shuffling in the dirt.

"I see yer a man of the world. Let us be clear then. We'll let ye go from 'ere in peace if ye slay the beast that 'ounds us." Dermanassian raised an eyebrow. The rider flushed, realizing the emptiness of his threat. His shoulders slumped, defeated. "That is, maybe ye could do aught t' 'elp us," he pleaded. He swung down from his tall horse. "I don’t ask ye t' sacrifice yerself for strangers and I got nothing to offer as reward, but still I ask ye, kill it if yer able."

Dermanassian shifted his travel pack to his other shoulder. "Tell me about the beast."

They took the fastest route back to the town center, walking through the fields of golden grains, whose tufted ends swayed above Dermanassian's head. From the east came the clanging of the hammer in the center of the village and the group angled toward the sound. Shortly, they came to the edge of the field and stepped suddenly out onto a narrow dirt road leading to town. They continued along the road, Dermanassian’s light feet raising no dust or sound.

The one-story cottages of the town were unremarkable except for the pair of archers awkwardly balancing short bows upon the roofs. The shops had closed their thick shutters and doors. But for those armed few, there was no one to be seen. An archer spat upon the thatch roof of the village mill. Dermanassian left the blue lotus sword hanging at his back; he was in no danger.

During their walk, the leader of the villagers told Dermanassian that his name was Mathe and talked of the troubled village. The beast had appeared years ago outside another village, about a day away by wagon. It killed three men and laid waste to a farmhouse and its chicken coops before vanishing again. Since that first appearance, the beast came more often and more regularly. Whole communities were depopulated through slaughter or flight. Mathe told Dermanassian that his village too lost families before Canatha, their mayor, suggested detouring the burning river by creating the system of moat and drawbridges. Canatha was killed before the work was completed and Mathe assumed the role of mayor after her body was cast into the purifying flames.

Few survived seeing the beast and so Mathe's description was vague. It was large, as big as Mathe's great dappled mare. It moved swiftly and low to the ground like a great tailless cat. Something encircled it head and throat where a mane might be; there was talk of a mantle of eels or snakes. Moonlight caught in its flickering eyes and glinted off an armored hide, flashing like fairy-borne lanterns in a sacred forest. Every few nights the watchers glimpsed it prowling in the darkness, just outside the rich glow of the river. It screamed now and again, sending shivers through the villagers, who could do nothing but watch as it sought a way in. Mathe feared that, one day, the beast would find one.

Mathe concluded his tale as night fell upon the village and they sat near a modest stone hearth in what had once been a busy inn. "As far as we know, we're alone 'ere in the countryside. There's none to 'elp us and if 'elp were a-coming, it'd been 'ere already. We can't leave for it would fall upon us as night fell and tear us apart like a rabid dog in a rabbit 'utch." He drained his tankard of dark beer and wiped the foam from his lips with the back of a calloused hand. "It's a matter of time now." A deep bell pealed above. Mathe grimaced and spat in the fire. "It's back. It won't leave 'till dawn, fer when it hungers, only the morning sun will drive it away."

Dermanassian stood, grabbing the hilt of the blue lotus sword and swinging his travel pack upon his shoulder. "Then let us go see it." For a moment, Mathe allowed himself to hope that this strange, bold man truly was the legendary Gray Mist and not just some foolish pretender to satisfy temporarily the hunger of the terror lurking in the dark.

The watchers pointed out the direction of the beast and, with Mathe, Dermanassian followed their indication through the village and its fields to the edge of the burning river. Beyond the reach of its blazing light, the beast paced. Even over the crackle of the flames, he could hear its hot panting. Dermanassian pulled from his breast pocket a small crystal sphere. He tossed it into the air and instantly it burst into a bright, golden light. With a wave of his hand, Dermanassian sent the floating globe across the span of the river.

The huge beast ignored the light as hovered beside him. It was as Mathe described. Its snake-like mane undulated as it paced; each eyeless tentacle twisted with its own movement, some snapping toothily at each other. The eyes of the beast were locked on Dermanassian and Mathe and it whined in frustration.

Dermanassian pulled a dagger from his boot and threw it at the beast’s massive shoulder. The monster did not bother to spring aside. It disregarded the blade as it clanged off the armored hide and bounced into the turf. Dermanassian lowered his hand and, following his lead, the golden sphere dropped to where the dagger lay, its tip bent. Dermanassian frowned and hoped the blue lotus sword would fare better. He pulled another dagger from his other boot and cast it at the mass of writhing tentacles. This time the beast jumped back with a snarl. Dermanassian nodded slightly to himself. The beast had its vulnerabilities. He would have liked to have a greater selection of weapons to bring to bear against it than simply the villagers' ineffective arrows and the dreamsword, but they would have to do.

The beast suddenly roared, its deep voice rumbling through ground before rising to a piercing screech that split the air. Mathe cringed and threw his calloused hands up to his ears. Its wide jaws stretched, showing a double row of spiky teeth and a whip-like, slathering tongue snapping in the red maw. The stench of its festering breath reached through the ring of fire.

Dermanassian considered the creature. There was little the villagers' arrows and spears could do against it, and certainly his own dagger had failed. More than likely the only available instrument capable of destroying it was the blue lotus sword. Yet the terrifying thing was quick and would surely not stand to wait for the Desert Elf to strike it down. Surely, it would flee to some lair to nurse it wounds until Dermanassian left the village. Unless Dermanassian could track it there to slay it while it was cornered, the monster would later return and the villagers would be no better off. The villagers' captor must be fought in a place that limited its ability to flee the blue dreamsword.

"Have you," Dermanassian asked Mathe, "ever considered letting the beast inside?"

Mathe hissed. "Are ye crazed? It would destroy us."

"No." Dermanassian shook his head. "It would be trapped. You said that the beast is tenacious, prowling at one point until dawn forces it to abandon its vigil. Disable all the drawbridges but two. When it next arrives, let it in on one end of the moat and you cross over the other. Raise the drawbridges again and," he repeated, "the beast is trapped."

Reluctant, Mathe shook his head. "Someone would 've to stay. Two someones: one 't raise up each bridge."

"As it stands, the beast is free and you are captive. You can exchange fates, but you must decide what you are willing to do to accomplish it."

Mathe rubbed his stubbly chin. "An' what do we get fer running this risk? Two dead villagers; our land an' 'ard work gone."

"I shall kill it, hopefully before it damages your livelihood overmuch. Or it shall eventually perish from hunger. You will have your land again in either case. I shall go to meet your jailer. And you?"

"Well, I can't allow a stranger t' do more to 'elp my folk than I. The shame would never leave me." Mathe spat into the burning river. "My wife will regret me this, but maybe the gods will lend my soul aid t' guide me through the mists of the Po Divide." He shook his head, as if unable to believe what he was about to say. "I'll raise one of the bridges."

The beast came again four nights later. The folk of the moated village gathered their livestock, packed their scant belongings, and were waiting, as they had each night since Dermanassian's suggestion, at the southern drawbridge. Dermanassian and Mathe taunted the creature so that it followed them to the northern drawbridge. With a bow and quiver slung across his back, Mathe climbed the platform and prepared to lower the stone bridge. Dermanassian sent his golden sphere high into the air where it flared brilliantly.

At the southern bridge, the other volunteer villager saw the light signal across the fields as he waited high atop the southern drawbridge. With skilled yanks on the pulleys, the stone bridge lowered and the villagers led their frightened livestock over the bridge and the snapping river beneath. A terrified lamb shied and skittered, then fell with a bleat and sharp hiss into the flames. The horses' nostrils flared with fear and the stench of burning lamb; only the nips of the dogs and the cracking of thin leather whips drove the frantic animals across. With a wave of farewell to his daughter, the villager raised the bridge again then twisted out several pegs to disable it. Standing atop the platform, he readied his bow and arrows in case the beast came his way. He risked another look at his daughter as her wagon rolled out of the glow of the burning river and into the darkness. Sparkling tears ran down both their faces. The villager grabbed the pegs and tossed them into the river, watching his temptation to escape the trap flare and sink into the kaleidoscope of flames.

Back at the platform of the northern bridge, Mathe said, "I sure hope this ain't the death of me." He shook his head, made a warding gesture, and muttered a prayer before lowering the drawbridge. The bridge slowly creaked down, landing across the burning river with a dull thud.

The beast eyed the bridge, sniffing once at the rapidly heating stones and testing the structure’s strength with one massive paw. Then, in an instant, it leapt upon the stone bridge and roared. Dermanassian readied the blue lotus sword, its aura nearly lost in the radiance of the flames. The dagger given him by Mathe to replace his own was not a fine throwing dagger, but rather a wide, utilitarian knife with a ribbed back. He gripped it in his right hand.

Mathe held his arrows. They were effective only as distractions and he had no desire to attract the attention of the menace before Dermanassian ordered him to do so. Instead, he held as steady as he could and watched the beast approach Dermanassian. It slathered and growled, its tongue flickering and lolling, tasting the Desert Elf's scent. It crossed the bridge slowly at first, one thick paw at a time, until it reached the mid-point.

Then abruptly, it sprang. Mathe dropped his bow and quickly yanked on the pulleys to bring the bridge up. The only indication the snarling brute gave that it heard the clanking of the bridge was a twisting of an ear; otherwise its attention was riveted on Dermanassian.

Dermanassian rolled, jabbing the knife upward into the belly of the beast, but the knife point slid harmlessly off the armored hide. He heard Mathe curse as the beast spun to attack. Dermanassian jumped to his feet, the blue lotus sword before him. The light of burning river and his golden orb danced in the beast's black eyes and sparkled against its wet teeth.

The brute snapped its jaws then launched itself again at Dermanassian. Again the Gray Mist rolled, this time thrusting the sword into its stomach below its ribs. But, like the dagger, the dreamsword skidded off. Mathe gasped and Dermanassian frowned as they realized together that he had no blade that could penetrate the tough hide. At least the dreamsword had not been damaged.

The beast growled and pawed, raking deep troughs in the ground with its claws. Dermanassian held his blades as shields, ready to ward off a lunge. It charged. Dermanassian jumped aside, slicing the blue lotus sword through into the writhing mane. The dreamsword sliced through a pair of the mouthing tentacles and they fell, snapping at each other, into a coiling heap. The beast screamed and dark blood spurted from the squirming stumps. In a flash, Dermanassian turned the blade for a second pass into the mane. Before the terror could twist away, the Gray Mist cut through another of the tentacles.

Both covered in slick blood, the beast and Dermanassian warily circled. It shook its head as if the movement alone would rid it of pain, but the shaking merely splattered the streaming blood farther. Droplets hissed as they flew into the flaming river and a sickening stench filled the air as they burned.

Dermanassian did not let the slathering menace recover. He sprang toward it, the blue lotus sword in a high arc. As the beast turned its armored shoulder to meet the blade, Dermanassian slashed its mane with the dagger. The wide blade, not as sharp as the dreamsword, caught in the tentacles and the Gray Mist was nearly forced to release it. Before he could, the tentacles wrapped about his arm and squeezed like snakes. A dozen slit-like mouths bit deep into his flesh. The beast snarled and turned its giant maw to snap at Dermanassian's neck. Grimacing, the Desert Elf twisted and jabbed the knife deep into the roof of the steamy mouth.

Screaming, the beast dropped him and pulled away, its mouth forced open by the length of the dagger. It panted and squealed as it rolled its tongue against the hilt of the knife. The beast turned toward the drawbridge, pulled up tightly against the platform. It snarled as it understood that its retreat was cut off. It backed away from Dermanassian, then turned and ran into the fields beyond the reach of the river's light.

"Follow it," Dermanassian instructed and the golden orb dashed after the fleeing beast. The Gray Mist kicked the severed tentacles into the river's fire.

"Ye just may be the Gray Mist after all!" Then Mathe saw the blood dripping from the Desert Elf's arm and he added anxiously, "Ye all right?"

Dermanassian shrugged through the pain, looking at his torn sleeve. "There is no poison in the bite." He watched the light of the sphere dart through the night. "You will be safer if you wait here."

"There's little enough safety with that thing about. It'll clamber up this platform if it's wanting t', or tear the whole thing down fer that matter. I might as well go with ye and give what assistance I can." Mathe climbed down. "If I'm to die tonight, I'll go t' my death on my feet with a bow in my 'and."

"As you wish." Dermanassian jogged after the shining sphere.

They followed the trail of blood and crushed stalks through fields, coming across Dermanassian's dagger lying in a ditch. Bits of flesh stuck in the knife's serrations and the blade was soaked in blood and saliva. Dermanassian wiped it in the grass until he could grasp the handle firmly. The beast had taken refuge in a stone building whose outline and thatched roof were alternately dim and bright as the sphere circled above it. It had a row of tiny shuttered windows and a large door that swung broken in its hinges. Inside was an undefined shadow.

"Githa's barn," Mathe huffed as the pair approached. He stopped to catch his breath, leaning his hands heavily on his knees. "Should be empty; 'er dogs ran 'er stock out tonight." Anticipating Dermanassian's question, he added, "T'ain't no door in the back, just that broken one yon'."

Dermanassian doubted he would have the time to set wards of magic to seal himself inside with the beast, for surely it would charge him before he finished. And while the monster was too large to escape through the shuttered windows, Dermanassian was not entirely certain it could not burst through the thatch roof, circumventing any ward he could set. There was little to do but to go forward. With a wave, he guided the orb to the barn's gaping entrance, where it hovered merrily. Its light poured into the darkness, revealing bales of straw tracked with dark, wet smears.

Dermanassian slowly walked to the entrance, making no sound. His sharp ears listened for any noises that would tell him in what part of the barn the creature lurked. Then he heard a soft, wet whuffing in the far corner. With a warning glance at Mathe, Dermanassian raised his sword and shifted his grip on the reddened serrated dagger.

At his nod, the golden orb rushed inside the barn. Dermanassian sent it straight into the cat-like face so that when he crossed the threshold, the monster was snarling blindly at the glare of the orb, crimson foam dripping between its teeth. He darted forward, the dreamsword raised to hack at the snapping tentacles. Three came off at his pass and the beast howled madly. Blood spurted from the writhing stumps. It moved to flee the barn, but the orb danced just a hand span from its eyes, confusing it. Dermanassian dodged its swinging paws to stand between the bloody horror and the hanging barn door.

Unable to see, the beast flailed at the orb, but could not catch the darting sphere. Dermanassian stepped over the severed tentacles, which continued to snap at his feet even as they lay dying. Unseen next to its confused bulk, he paused, waiting for a moment when it was most vulnerable. Then the hulking beast opened its giant maw as if to swallow the orb and Dermanassian thrust the blue lotus sword through the back of its gaping mouth. The sharp blade slid through the reddened palate and into the brain of the beast. Dermanassian wrenched the blade, twisting it inside the thick skull. He heard the cracking of bone and the creature's gurgling cries were abruptly silenced. Its eyes widened as it stiffened, then collapsed in a jumbled heap. Spasms wracked its huge body.

Then it was over: the beast was dead.

Dermanassian stayed in the village as his wounds healed, for the folk of the burning river insisted they repay him as best they could, including aid for his wounds, although his injuries healed so rapidly and cleanly the folk rightly suspected their efforts had little to do with it.

Still, they begged him to stay and, having had nothing but the comforts of the wild terrain, he was grateful for large, hot meals to fill his stomach and a clean, stuffed mattress on which to lie. On his last day, the folk revealed their true purpose in asking him to remain. Mathe presented him with a sheath for the blue lotus sword, cut from the armored hide of the beast, the plates sewn inward to protect the leather against the dreamsword.

"Took us quite a bit of sawing t' get through it," he said, "an' I think ye'll find that it's tough enough even to contain that blade of yours."

"Indeed it will," Dermanassian answered, sliding the sword home.