Raziel listened with only half an ear, numbly with no emotion or effort diverted to digesting the scout’s words as perhaps he should. Those three words now occupied all of his mental attention, his mind enwrapped in them and refusing to budge from anything else.
‘The Soul Reaver’.
How was it possible? It defied everything he knew, all logic and reasoning. How could the blade have ended up in the possession of a mediocre and petty mage in the wilderness when by all rights in this era, it ought to be in the hands of the Sarafan Lord after Kain lost it in battle. 
Even now, when he had faced his free of death and destiny, the name of that unique sword still made him twitch despite himself.
“It is as the old stories say Milady.” The scout said to the princess  as he laid out the detailed map of Nosgoth on the table, laying out the route slowly. He looked very pale, with sweat travelling down the sides of a shockingly white face.
Strangely the man seems to grow weaker and more putrid looking the longer he was standing still or at rest.
“The dollmaker lives in a workshop far to the north.” He said, placing a finger down on some point on the map north of Willendorf. “It stands upon a small marshy island in the middle of the Lake of Lost souls.”
Alicia stared down at the map, clear and obvious excitement and exultation.
“Nothing more appropriate.” She said, her voice verging on the edge of hysteria.  Briefly Raziel wondered what her plan might be. Would she attempting to confront and kill the Dollmaker to end the reign of terror he had excreted over her and this kingdom?  If this man had the Soul Reaver then she did not know what she was getting herself into. 
Still the puzzle of the sword vexed him. Clearly the Reaver seemed to be in two places at once, in the hands of the Sarafan Lord and the grasp of this ‘Elziver’. There was only one way that was possible and Raziel hoped that he would not have to endure another paradox in order to find out.
The scout cleared his throat, gargling a little in a sickly way before he continued directing with a shaking hand.
Raziel’s attention was finally diverted enough to notice that something was wrong. The scout was trembling from head to toe and did not seem to notice his condition.
“During the winter the lake freezes over.” The human went on and his voice gargled. “And that is what permits his Pipers to come out at this time each year.”
The princess looked up in surprise then, seemingly drawn from her own thought. One look at her scouts face was enough. She stumbled back with a loud scream of absolute terror.
Oozing out of the man’s eyes, nose and mouth came thick and sluggish wriggling worms. Dozens of them came crawling out of every orifice in his head, quickly coating the face and drowning the man’s scream of pain and horror in their numbers.
Raziel flew into the room and grabbed Alicia, pulling her bodily away from the flailing body. The scout’s body was rapidly being consumed by the fat and slimy leeches, each one a pale dirty gold and slippery with bodily excretions.
The man collapsed to his knees and then to his front. By the time he hit the floor most of his mass was gone and he was reduced to a heap of heaving organs and flesh being eaten rapidly by hundreds of these worms.
Raziel stared at the corpse as the grisly feast continued and even the clothes the man had worn were consumed. Despite his gruesome appearance Alicia clung to him, trembling terribly and unable to turn her eyes away from the terrible scene before her.
“It would seem...” The blue wraith began in a low tone.  “...that the dollmaker got him after all.” 
The princess was breathing in sharply and quickly through her nose as if trying desperately not to be sick.
“What...” She managed in a choked voice, clearly all she could say. Raziel sighed and shook his head a little ruefully.
“It’s a spell called Font of Putrescence, slow acting and exceedingly painful.” He explained. By now all that remained of the scout was a puddle of steaming liquid staining the carpet. The worms, with nothing else to eat, had turned upon one another in a battle of surging hunger. They were disgusting to watch, grubs whose only purpose was to feed.
For the moment they were still lethal to any living that was foolish enough to come within leaping distance. They would eagerly progress to another host and consume that as eagerly as the first.
This cruel spell was not one vampires preferred to use that often. Even the most experienced of their kind, preferring to kill or stun prey rather then reduce it to unrecognisable mush.
The blue wraith stared at the disgusting scene, his thoughts slowly churning inside his head. Somehow the sight seems to help him clarify his mind, focus his intentions, priorities and motivations so they were clear another to analyse.
.
“The reason why I am come to his failing kingdom was put in clarity. Do I call this fate or manipulation? It doesn’t matter for my duty is clear.”
.
The word ‘duty’ sat oddly even in his own private thoughts, but still it was the only word to describe the sense of obligation that seemed compelling. But it was there and had to be called for what it was.
.
“This dollmaker must not be allowed to keep the sword. For the sake of the, regrettably, important destiny of the Scion of Balance it had to be returned to its rightful owner. As distasteful as it was to do Kain another favour, I was well aware of how important his role was to the future of Nosgoth.”
.
While Raziel had sworn to be Kain’s right hand and sword during the confrontation below the ancient citadel, that did not mean that the blue wraith had to really like the vampire. But Raziel knew better than to let his own sentiments get in the way of his vision of what was truly important.
Kain had lost the Reaver in battle with his past incarnation and it was only proper and if he was honest, just, that he be the one to rectify that.
“Ghoul...” His attention drawn, Raziel looked down to see the princess looking up at him. Her face was set with frustrated fear, anger and hot resentment –directed not at him but at a fate she could not change. He knew the expression well.
“Raziel...” He corrected her almost without thinking. She ignored him.
“I have nothing to trade for this request...” Alicia started, fists trembling at her sides. “But I beg of you!” The degree of sincerity in her voice, whole unexpected, had him taken aback. “Find the Dollmaker and kill him!”
Then she actually held his hand, gripping his talons with her earnest plea.
“Free Willendorf from this nightmare!”
Raziel stared down at her with wide eyes.
Before he could even think of anything to say in reply, the door to the apartment burst open. The blue wraith turned sharply but not in time. Dozens of men, all clad in white armour, stormed into the room. Swords were drawn and shields held at the ready. By their sheer force they shoved the two of them aside and Alicia was hurled back into the far side of the room.
Raziel was forced to back up against the window.
“Enough!” An anger ridden voice spat and striding into the room appeared the King. So he had not retreated, only paused long enough to collect sufficient men for this siege. Behind him were perhaps ten marksmen, holding crossbows aimed directly at Raziel and poised to fire.
The king ignored the wraith. He promptly strode up to his daughter and slapped her across the face. Since he was wearing an armoured gauntlet he cut her, a gash opening across her check. She didn’t cry out but the blood ran freely to drip onto the floor.
“You would endanger us this way!” Her father asked her with savage fury. “Plotting against the Dollmaker was bad enough but spying on him, preparing an assault!?”
Raziel’s opinion of the man dropped even further if he was prepared to eavesdrop.
“You foolish girl, what would have happened when you failed?” The king asked the young woman who looked up at him with pain ridden defiance. “The dollmaker would have come for all of us!”
Finally Raziel cut in.
“You could fight.” He suggested. The soldiers separating them looked at each over nervously, as if the mere suggestion was dangerous. In that moment Raziel saw that Alicia’s opinion of the nation of Willendorf was entirely correct. They were licked curs, dogs with a master.
“You don’t know the doll-makers power, Ghoul!” The king said, rounding on him. Raziel kept his own tone low and cold.
“I think your daughter is more self severing than she likes to admit, even to herself.” He said and Alicia looked at him. “But she is right about one thing though.”
He raised a talon and swung his arm around, gesturing to all of them contemptuously.
“You’re all a pack of yellow bellied dogs, rolling over to show your bellies.”
The king met his gaze, unblinking. Slowly his lips pulled back into a sneer.
“Well fed dogs.” He replied and then gestured to his men.
The sword men pulled back and the crossbowmen leaned forward. Raziel acted on instinct, rolling down as a shower of bolts punched through the air and smashed the windows he had stood in front of. As he rolled, he summoned the Reaver in a flurry and sliced it across the legs of the nearest man. His calves separated into bloody stumped and he collapsed to the floor in an agonised scream.
“Raziel!” Coming to his feet, Raziel saw the princess being bundled out the door and into the hallway, closely followed by the king. A dozen armed men barred his way while the crossbows on either side were being fitted for a second volley.
Acting on instinct, the wraith darted quickly to his left, the tip of the blade of a pike passing an inch from his receding body. Grabbing the weapon he yanked the soldier forward, tipping him off balance. The man then recoiled backwards after Raziel smashed his elbow into his face with enough force to break his face, the skull caving into his head. The pleasure was too much and the back of his head fractured out in a spray of blood and bone fragments.
Two swords stabbed in from behind, puncturing the thin nerveless membrane of his ruined wings.  Raziel felt some small amount of his energy leech away at the minor injury. Snarling he spun back, spinning to knock the men’s feet out from under them. One he was upon before he even hit the floor, flashing and tearing with his talons. As the other man rolled away, several came in with spears raised to skewer him already stabbing down.
Raziel jumped back to try and avoid them. Several caught him in the thigh and pinned him down. His ruined body felt less pain then a regular one but he was knocked back to the ground with a painful gasp.
His vision swam a little as his energy flowed out of him. Viciously he brought forth the Reaver and slashed at anything in his path, frenzied in his attempt to get free. The wraith blade sang its greedy song as it sliced through the air.
The agonised screams brought him some satisfaction and he felt the pressure being applied to his leg ebbed and with some effort he brought free and got back to up his feet.
Several men lie dead or screaming before him, clutching bloody stumps were arms and legs had once been. The stone floor of the apartment was slippery with blood and chunks of flesh. Despite their losses the guardsmen were still protecting the doorway, swords drawn and shield held. They were professional fighting men, well trained and disciplined.
Raziel could not afford to waste time, they were doing their best to bar him from following the king as he took his own daughter off to be sacrificed in some cowardly appeasement.
The blue wraith looked around, counting the number left still carrying some sort of weapon. He counted ten excluding the crossbow men who had finished resetting their weapons to fire again, raising them all in one motion to point their bolts directly at him.
Raziel was standing far closer now than before on their last volley and even his reflexes could not dodge them at that close range.
Once he was stuck with all those bolts the guardsmen would be on him in an instant, not giving him a moment to recover.
There too many too close and time was running out. He had one spoilt second to make a decision.
Raziel made the only real decision he could, releasing his hold on the matter that made up his body. The world around him seemed to moan in one single low voice, shifting and churning; physical objects morphing to parodies of their former selves.
Slipping into the Spectral realm, Raziel felt some measure of energy and strength return and the armed men blocking his way disappeared for they did not exist here. Colours drained away replaced by the all pervading green and blue of this place of spirits.
The blue wraith took a few moments to collect himself, breathing shallowly. He would have to move quickly, head north. By now the princess was out of his reach within the castle but there was a chance of perhaps cutting across the path they would take there. 
While saving Alicia was not high in his list of priorities, Raziel’s true goal lay north as well. If the doll maker presumed to hold the Soul Reaver, he would have to accept there would be those willing to wrest it from his fingers.