《The Glimmerstone Enigma [Epic Fantasy] [D&D Inspired]》


 Welcome to Venn - Maps and Character introduction

    The outcome of many epic wars often hinges on the efforts of unexpected heroes whose details are lost to time and never appear in historical accounts. This is one of those tales.


    This particular tale begins on the eastern continent in the foothills of the Glimmerstone mountains where the western edge of the Kingdom of Shan borders the Siremirian League.


    We travel to a monastery called the Luminarium nestled high in the Glimmerstones. The abbey is home to a group of warrior monks. Together with other orders throughout the mountain range, they monitor the mountain passes as a form of early warning system for the kingdoms to the south and east against threats that may arise from the wildlands to the west.


    When hook-headed demons attack without warning, slaughtering the abbey''s brothers and sisters, early clues suggest the use of magic well beyond the capabilities of Venn¡¯s contemporary masters. The two surviving monks join forces with some old friends and new allies to determine the perpetrator and their end game and discover a potentially apocalyptic future.


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    Meet the party and join them as they attempt to chew what they''ve inadvertently bitten off and attempt to save Venn in the process:


    Singing Bird - A feline rogue<u>,</u> running from his past indiscretions with quick blades and quicker wit.


    Whydah (WHYD-uh) - Bird''s halfling bard apprentice trying to find her musical place in the world.


    Iskvold (EESK-veld) - A scholarly drow monk coming to terms with an uncontrollable but addictively delicious rage problem.


    Tsuta (SOO-ta) - An obsessive-compulsive elven monk and cleric who gave up adventuring for the simple monastery life.


    Lunish (LOO-nish) - A druidic gnome and part-time spy suffering from imposter syndrome and clueless about her magical potential.


    Glynfir (GLIN-feer) - Lunish''s half-elven colleague, a talented wizard and a degenerate gambler more concerned with his image than his impact.


    Segwyn (SEG-win) - An elven ranger desperate to escape the shadow of his larger-than-life father and succeed on his own merits.


    Not heroes, not champions, just a slightly dysfunctional band of adventurers who inherit a very big problem.


    Welcome to Venn!

 Prologue

    She felt the cold sweat of doubt tickle her brow and the furrow between her breasts. Is it too late to turn back now? What if it doesn''t work?  What if the only reward for all her unimaginable atrocities was the cold permanence of death - her legacy nothing more than a footnote of inexplicable savagery on the history of Venn''s eastern continent?


    No. She pushed down the fleeting moment of self-doubt. I''ve come too far and given up too much.


    Slowly sliding her naked form under the surface of the tepid bath, she locked eyes with the dead gaze of her mother and her brother, then the totality of their distended corpses hanging by the ankles barely a foot above the tub. As the last drops of blood fell from their yawning throats, the warrior-witch closed her eyes and fully submerged herself in the ichor. Her skin tingled as every inch felt the touch of Orcus'' recipe - the lifeblood of one unicorn, three holy enemies, and her immediate family. It was nearly complete.


    The insatiable hunger for ambition quickly overwhelmed her lapse in confidence. She felt her lungs burn, begging for new oxygen, but resisted breaking the surface too soon. Finally, as fireworks began to explode behind her eyelids, she clawed the sides of the wooden tub and exploded violently upright. Waves of crimson splashed over the vessel''s sides, gathering in small pools at its base. Her open eyes were two white discs against the solid red of her dripping torso as she gulped for air.


    The ritualistic blood baths were common practice - many battles turned on the shocking visage of her red-stained face surging into the fray announced by the screech of her death whistle. She fed on that energy. The enemy''s intimidation and her own army''s swelling confidence fueled the potency of her casting and rage to great success... but not today.


    Today, she would make no appearance. Today, they would meet disastrous defeat. Outnumbered and outflanked, she knew they wouldn''t reach the Glimmerstones and the prize she coveted so fiercely. As the blood dripped from her body to the surrounding pool, her loyal barbarians were being whittled down by the Gnoll hordes of Siremiria. Their only hope of avoiding slaughter was the timely arrival of their leader on the battlefield, but she would not join them. This was the final act of sacrifice the pact demanded. What she could not acquire with mortal might today would be achieved with the unbridled magical force of the next life. What did fifty years of servitude matter to those who embraced immortality?


    Her bare feet left bloody prints across the hides surrounding the ritual tub as the muscular warrior padded toward the circle of glowing glyphs carved into the nearby earth. Ignoring the muted din of battle raging in the distance, she perched cross-legged in the center of the inscriptions. Three carefully positioned objects lay within reach: a wooden scepter, a clay skull on a chain, and a flask of swirling liquid.


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    Familial blood dripped from her skin, forming an outline of what would be her final mortal resting place. After this, only two acts stood in the way of her eternal power. Fifty years of indenture to Orcus, then the artifact''s recovery from the icy Glimmerstone peaks and the conquest of Venn - perhaps more - would be within her grasp.


    She picked up her scepter, and a knowing smile creased the shadows on her face. The wand was ghoulishly ceremonial - a carved and tapered hickory shaft wrapped with the fraying intestines of long-dead enemies topped by an inky black stone no bigger than a small child''s fist. The stone''s irregular shape and semi-transparent, pock-marked surface made it an unconventional choice for such a purpose, but she had insisted. No one knew its secret, not even Orcus.


    She gazed at the full moon peeking through a narrow gap in the tent''s gnoll-hide walls. Now or never. The death whistle was a small clay skull with a tube protruding from the top of the head, attached to a gold chain threaded through a loop on the whistle''s posterior. Though primitive and crude in its exterior design, the hollow interior was intricately crafted into two chambers. Air blown into the tube created a resonance of pure despair - a haunting and distorted scream of pain and agony, simultaneously human and otherworldly. On its own, the shrill wail manifested a foreboding sense of doom in every ear it reached, but enhancing it with a fear spell made its impact utterly devastating.


    This specific whistle''s interior had also been painstakingly imbued with arcane glyphs and inscriptions to serve a second critical purpose: It would become the vessel for her soul, vital to her journey into immortality.  She retched at the memory of consuming her own mother''s heart during the preparation ritual, choking back the salty, metallic bile. At least our souls will always be together. The weak rationalization and the return of her burning desire for power propelled her forward.


    Placing the chain around her neck, the whistle came to rest between her breasts. The cool clay against her wet skin was familiar and calming. Its touch thwarted the anxiety of finality and magnitude threatening her resolve. Her breathing deepened as the whistle''s eye sockets pulsed with an unnatural green glow.


    She raised the flask, framing the full moon behind it, and considered its contents. A precise recipe of powerful poisons combined with the venom and ichor of several dangerous creatures ¨C the ultimate witch''s brew. She would have less than two minutes after consuming it before her life would end. This is it: success or death. No second chances. She mentally ran through the necessary words and hand gestures one final time before tipping back her head and raising the flask to her lips.


    The taste was even more foul than expected as she choked and gagged before emptying the small bottle and tossing it aside. Quickly connecting to the essence of her casting, she began to weave intricate gestures, her voice rising in a cadence of phrases from a long-dead language. Streaks of fleeting green hung in the air, trailing the movements of her fingers. The same glow began to pulse on the scepter''s stone and, finally, the eyes of the whistle. The cycle was complete.


    Her voice dropped to a whisper as her hand stilled and the magical glow receded first from her fingers, then the scepter stone, and finally the eyes of the clay skull around her neck. She felt herself slipping away as her body slumped backward onto the tent floor. She clung to her hunger for power. I will return stronger. I will fulfill my destiny.


    And with that final thought, the Red Queen left the mortal realm.

 1. The Monks - A Cabin with a View

    ¡°Dung? Really?¡± Tsuta examined the red sphere, turning it over in his hands.


    ¡°That¡¯s what the book said,¡± came the reply.


    The source of the second voice was his watch partner, Iskvold, but Tsuta never called her that. He always gave his colleagues nicknames based on some obvious dimension of their physical appearance or skills. Iskvold had the characteristic pink eyes of the Drow, and given their rarity in this part of the world, it seemed only appropriate to call her ¡°Pinky¡±.


    The two were in the final stretch of their three-day tour guarding the northern outpost. The monks of The Luminarium manned three beacon outposts, each overlooking the mountain passes that offered discreet overland access to the eastern kingdoms of elves and men.


    It had proved to be a symbiotic relationship. The abbey received regular food and supplies from the king of Shan and the Elven Commonwealth of Glahaneth. In exchange, the monks provided an early warning system against threats from Orcs, Gnolls, and other dangers that could otherwise surprise the eastern settlements. The Luminarium abbey, planted firmly in the foothills of the Glimmerstone mountains, less than two miles from each outpost, served as their home and base of operations.


    Each location consisted of a modest cabin shelter and an eight-foot-high stone fireplace called ¡°The Beacon¡± perched on a small, cleared plateau carved out of the forest. To prevent enemy overrun, the outposts were only accessible from the east.


    The Beacons had a unique functional design: a rounded cone base, three feet wide at the bottom, tapering to a small chimney aperture at the top. The first time he saw one, Tsuta thought it resembled an upside-down beehive or a head of garlic. Mounted on a low three-sided stone base, the Beacons had a sliding metal grate underneath to remove the ash.


    Their job was simple: monitor the pass and signal if anything suspicious passed through from the west. It was the method of communication, however, that fueled the current conversation.


    Each outpost had three colored spheres: white, blue, and red.  Significant civilian migration through the pass dictated the white flare was added to the fire.  The eastward movement of Orc or Gnoll military forces warranted the red, while blue covered anything else dangerous encroaching by land or air.  Each sphere belched a heavy column of smoke in its respective color, visible for miles, thanks to the beacon¡¯s design and the magical nature of the colored orbs.


    ¡°What kind of dung?¡± he asked, still focused on the red sphere.


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Iskvold shouted back from the overlook on the far side of the cabin, her voice muffled by the structure. One of them always had to have eyes on the pass.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious how they get the different colors.¡± He scraped at the orb¡¯s surface with his fingernail, closely inspecting the residue. ¡°Is it different dung, a different spell, on another ingredient?¡±


    Iskvold appeared to the side of the cabin, adjusting her position to see him and the pass simultaneously. Her shoulder-length white hair was tucked behind her right ear. Head slightly cocked, her pink eyes narrowed, assessing his sincerity.


    ¡°Are you messing with me right now?¡±


    ¡°I swear to Gond I¡¯m not!¡± His face cracked a smile. ¡°I assumed you¡¯d know, given how much time you spend with your nose buried in The Vault.¡±


    The Vault was the abbey¡¯s library, named for its discreet and secure position underneath the main building. Sifu Haft, the abbey master, was militant about its protection. Over the years, the monks had quietly amassed a large and eclectic collection of texts ranging from the benign to the dangerously arcane. Every commissioned translation or transcription included an unmentioned ¡°house copy¡± for the archives, resulting in a secret volume of works unmatched by most major cities on the continent. Iskvold, the Vault¡¯s curator and more at home among the stacks than with other people, knew its contents better than anyone.


    She gave him a long look before deciding to respond, ¡°The white ones are made with wolf dung, the red is Centaur, and the blue comes from Bulettes. The other ingredients¨Csulfur and saltpeter- are the same, and so is the incantation¡±


    Tsuta started to giggle. ¡°It¡¯s hilarious you know the answer, Pinky...that you actually took the time to learn about how to construct Beacon flares out of dung!¡±


    ¡°Laugh all you want my bald friend, she shot back, adding ¡°You¡¯re the one playing with Centaur shit!¡± as she smirked and disappeared back around the corner to resume her duties.


    Tsuta¡¯s smile faded as he reconsidered the red sphere before returning it next to the beacon and wiping his hands thoroughly on his robes. Ugh. I can still feel it under my fingernail! Recalling the reason for his trip, he grabbed a few logs and fed the fire just as a flash of light tickled his peripheral vision. Magic? Up here? He spun instinctively towards the threat, his divine energy crackling to life between his raised hands.


    But there was nothing.


    The morning sun flickered among the leaves moving lazily in the breeze, and the birds twittered uninterrupted. Odd. Satisfied that he had overreacted, the wood elf dropped his magical tether and headed back toward the cabin.


    It was his turn to rest. The last three days of outpost duty were draining. The monotony of it, combined with solitary reflection, always left him exhausted. He longed to return to the abbey, where he could focus on his usual tasks¡ªreviewing and improving the order¡¯s defenses. Though he didn¡¯t regret joining Sifu Haft nearly a year ago, he missed the excitement of adventuring. Most often, it seemed, while toiling on outpost duty.


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    He pushed open the cabin¡¯s back door, a shaft of sunlight spilling in, casting a warm glow on the modest interior. A table with an oil lamp, a small fireplace, and a well-worn meditation mat occupied half the space. A hand pump and basin perched on a primitive wooden counter, supplies tucked beneath, consumed most of the rest. Closing the door returned shadow to the cabin as he lit a stick of incense against the glowing embers before settling cross-legged on the mat. Placing the smoldering incense in its holder, he unconsciously slid his hand over the surface of his bald head before beginning the meditation ritual, drifting quickly into the deep meditative state that served as elvenkind¡¯s version of sleep.


    Iskvold heard the cabin door close at her back but didn¡¯t break from her observation routine. Scan the skies, scan the pass, scan the mountainsides, repeat. Gondammit, I hate this final shift. Envy gnawed at her, thinking of her partner, oblivious to the passage of time during meditation. She, however, was acutely aware of the glacier-like movement of every grinding second. So close to being relieved, each moment seemed to stretch interminably before yielding to the next. Even her usual distractions ¨C the nest of baby sparrows just below the outpost overlook or the mountain lion that regularly patrolled the hillside below- weren¡¯t doing it. Work the routine and stop thinking about it; you¡¯re making it worse.


    She turned north, scanning the full vista of the Glimmerstone range from the horizon to the Sshanderiusha Gap directly below and south to the Aether Peaks. Nothing. Back to the gap. Named after the nearby river, the well-worn footpath rose from the Siremirian plains before threading through the wooded foothills into Shan territory. Iskvold visually traced its route along cliff sides and through switchbacks until it disappeared several miles to the west. Dead empty. Rarely in her decade at the abbey had she witnessed activity near the gap. She smirked at the memory of her younger self imagining the vast western wildlands teeming with Orcs, Gnolls, and other fantastic creatures, all plotting and scheming just on the other side of civilization, constantly testing the boundaries.


    First-hand experience, however, had completely dispelled that myth. Twice she had spied a tribe of orcs migrating along the road, and once a pair of wyverns - an adult and a juvenile - riding the air currents among the lower foothills. That was it. The drow began to calculate the futility in her mind to pass the time. Ten years, one three-day watch per month. One hundred and twenty tours. Over four thousand hours of outpost time for two tribes of orcs and a couple of wyverns. If only Sifu allowed her to bring books with her. I could have learned so much!


    Of course, he had immediately refused the request. It completely defeats the purpose of being on watch duty if one is reading rather than watching. Understandable. Sifu also strictly confined all written materials to the Vault interior¨Cno removals. For ¡°protection,¡± he had said. I don¡¯t get that one.  Admittedly, some manuscripts should never see the light of day outside the Vault; countless others, however, would benefit the reader from being considered in the field with context ¨Csome of the catalogs of flora and fauna, for example.


    She continued her progression to the mountainsides. From her perch, Iskvold could see the eastern and southern slopes of the six peaks that framed the gap, and she dutifully scrutinized each one from base to summit. Still nothing.


    Repeating the process somewhat robotically for several hours, she began knocking out a beat with the butt of her staff on the outlook¡¯s stone patio to combat boredom. Tap, tap. Scan the sky. Tap, tap. Back to the gap. Tap, tap. Peak to the east. Tap, tap. Peak to the west. She even added shoulder and hip movements, amusing herself with a stilted and awkward dance routine. I really hope Tsuta isn¡¯t watching, or I¡¯ll never hear the end of it.


    As the late afternoon sun pressed its beams annoyingly into her eyes, she recognized something wasn¡¯t right. They should have been here by now. Normally, the beacon watch arrived by mid-afternoon, with two of the acolytes in tow, hauling food and firewood up to replenish what had been consumed by the outgoing monks on duty. She gave it another thirty minutes before rousing Tsuta from his meditation.


    At first, he resisted the alarm.


    ¡°How late is it?¡± he asked without opening his eyes.


    ¡°The shadows of the foothills are already into the Gap.¡±


    That was enough to support the credibility of her concern, his eyes snapped open.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, that¡¯s pretty late.¡± He exhaled audibly as he stood and stretched. ¡°Do you want to head down to the abbey and see what¡¯s what while I keep an eye on the gap?¡±


    ¡°That works. I could do with a change of scenery. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s nothing, but you never know.¡±


    Tsuta nodded and reached for his staff¡ªit was of little use on watch, but he took comfort in having it in hand.


    ¡°I might as well take my stuff and save another trip,¡± Iskvold said almost to herself as she slipped past him into the cabin. Tsuta yawned and stepped out onto the overlook.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t see smoke from any of the outposts to the south, did you?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Now don¡¯t you think I would have led with that?¡± she chided over her shoulder.


    Tsuta chuckled. ¡°Fair enough. Sifu probably ran long in one of his lessons again. Wouldn¡¯t be the first time.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the truth!¡± he heard her reply, along with the sounds of rummaging inside the cabin.


    Iskvold grabbed her cloak and shouldered her pack. Returning to the overlook, she placed a hand on Tsuta¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you back at the abbey.¡± He turned his head, and they shared a nod before Iskvold strode to the northern end of the overlook and disappeared down the stairs carved from the rock face of the plateau.


    ¡°Tell them to get their butts moving will you please?¡± Tsuta shouted in her direction.


    ¡°Will do,¡± came the distant response.


    Iskvold took the stairs down two at a time. Her muscle memory took over, and she shuddered in recollection. How many times have I run this flight? Five hundred? More. These stairs were the sole access point for the beacon and a core component of training at the abbey. Her right hand instinctively grazed the plateau¡¯s sheer stone face as she shifted her weight to the inside, staff held in her left, parallel to the ground for balance. Gond was that painful in the early days!


    Rounding the eastern side of the plateau and gaining a line of sight to the abbey, she stopped dead. Reminiscence vanished.


    A faint trail of black smoke against blue sky caught her attention. As she traced the smoke¡¯s path downward, the column grew thicker and darker until her gaze locked on the abbey, her home. Despite a lack of visible flames, the stone structure was heavily smoldering. Every tower¡­ every window coughed - dark and dense - the tendrils curling and converging into a single, ominous black cylinder escaping into the atmosphere. Her stomach lurched, and the muscles in her shoulder blades knotted. Still too far away to make out any detail, she¡¯d seen enough.


    Without hesitation, the Drow tore down the remaining stairs and broke into a dead run through the high grass field towards what remained of the Luminarium.

 2. The Monks - Aftermath of the Ambush

    A flurry of thoughts tore through her mind as Iskvold raced towards the only home she had ever known. Had there been an accident? Were they attacked? How did they pass the Beacons unseen? What if the attack came from the east? Was everyone ok? Why had no one been dispatched to warn us? We could have helped. The Vault. Had it burned as well? All those books, all that knowledge.


    After five minutes at full sprint, she had to pause. Lungs and thighs burning, she doubled over, gasping for oxygen before interlocking her fingers behind her head and returning momentarily to a walk.  With the pause, she covered the distance to the abbey¡¯s outer courtyard in twelve minutes. Why are the gates open? That¡¯s not normal. Judging by the volume of smoke and tendrils of occasional flame now visible in the upper windows, whatever took place was recent ¨C in the last few hours while she had been idly monitoring the gap. Guilt momentarily overwhelmed her but was quickly replaced by shock. Reaching the iron gates and a full view of the courtyard, Iskvold stopped in her tracks for the second time in less than twenty minutes. This was no accident.


    The courtyard was a battlefield. Drying blood spattered the grey slate stonework in overlapping patterns pooling sickly around four monks motionless on the ground. Not an enemy corpse in sight.  Rushing to the nearest victim and rolling him over to check for a pulse, she looked into the dead eyes of Brother Jellen - an elf she had known since childhood. They grew up together here at the abbey. No pulse. Gone. Tears rolled down her cheeks as grief, anger, and disbelief threatened her objectivity. Stay in control! Multiple gashes crisscrossed his torso and face, and she could see the gaping wounds beneath his blood-soaked, tattered robes. Similar parallel slashes covered the palms of his hands. His palms.


    Iskvold¡®s head snapped around, quickly surveying the scene. No weapons in sight. They had no warning, slaughtered before any call to arms could be raised. She moved briskly among the others on the ground, nearly slipping on the blood-slicked stone. Sister Karela, Brother Ren, and Brother Avil, all dead. These were accomplished martial artists, more dangerous with their bare hands than most warriors with a sword. What could have cut them down so easily? Her heart constricted with loss as she knelt next to Brother Avil¡¯s body when another thought struck. What if whatever did this was still here? In that instant, a white-hot rage boiled deep in her guts, pushing all rational thought aside. Justice...Retribution¡­no. Vengeance! With her friends dead and her home razed, an all-consuming rage overwhelmed her. Jumping to her feet, staff in both hands, she let out an animalistic roar and charged into the main structure of the Luminarium.


    The next few minutes felt surreal, as if she was nothing more than a mental observer within her body, aware of everything going on but powerless to change it.


    Entering the cloakroom, a fifth corpse propped open the swinging door to the mess hall.  Another friend¡­can¡¯t stop. Her heart hammering, she stepped over her fallen ally and shouldered the door mid-stride, rocketing it back against its hinges. The room was heavily charred, benches and tables black from the fire, smoke still curling towards the ceiling. Three more bodies charred and still. Keep moving. Kitchen or main hall? Kitchen. She heard herself roar:


    ¡°You want battle? Come and get it! I will rip your limbs off and feed them to you!¡±


    What was that? Where did that come from? She sprinted across the mess and through the kitchen door. Its wood frame weakened from the fire, the impact from her shoulder sent the slab off its hinges, careening into the shelves storing the abbey¡¯s cookware. The collision launched a large soup pot from the top shelf. She struck it in mid-air, her fury releasing like a coiled spring, sending it forcefully to the ground, clanging off the stone floor. Before it bounced, she hit it again, leaving a large dent. Just a pot¡­keep going! Two more down. The tatters of Luminarium robes were barely distinguishable on the fringes of their charred remains. She heard herself scream again:


    ¡°Cowards! Where are you!?¡±


    Bare-handing a smoldering shelf blocking the door to the main hall, she tossed it aside. Pain seared through her instantly, though the rational passenger in her head observed that it hurt less than expected. In addition, the injury seemed to reinforce the rage that had her in its grip like a kite lifted higher on a passing gust of wind. Her focus sharp and narrow, she let out another unintelligible roar and pushed into the main hall.


    Over thirty feet long and twenty feet across, the main hall was the abbey¡¯s social hub. Four rows of polished wooden benches flanked a center aisle, all facing a raised platform. This was the gathering point for announcements and worship. Now it was smoldering rubble, black soot staining the grey stone walls where flames had licked their way higher. Visible among the remains of the furniture, Iskvold counted four more corpses curled into the fetal position and burned beyond recognition, but there was also something else¡­another creature.


    The rational passenger inside her head estimated it to be nearly seven feet tall with gaunt musculature, the charcoal skin stretched over its emaciated skeletal form. Jagged vertebrae bristled the exterior of its spine and down the long tail encircling its motionless body, ending in a sharp-tipped point. Nasty-looking claws on the hands and feet were stained in blood, as were the four-inch upper and lower incisors protruding from the creature¡¯s jaws. Most uniquely, the back of its skull tapered into a bony horn that curled forward over its head in the shape of a fishhook, coming to a point several inches above the eye sockets. Though dead, the creature¡¯s presence still triggered the fury in control of her actions.


    She heard herself cry out, ¡°Finally!¡± as she charged the corpse. Her staff came down repeatedly. Ribs. Back. Shoulder. She felt herself draw on her Ki, the magical energy manifesting a white glow onto her fists as she rained down an additional flurry of blows. Head. Head. Head. The creature¡¯s body absorbed each one, never moving, never flinching. Her last strike produced a sickening crack as the skull caved in. Her breathing ragged, she stood over the lifeless attacker and felt her field of vision widen. The passenger regained control as the rage dissipated. She blinked several times, processing the anger-filled rampage. What in Gond¡¯s name was that?


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    After taking a moment to reorient and catch her breath, she flitted quickly among the fallen, checking for any signs of life. Nothing. She could tell there were two male and two female victims, but the bodies were too charred to identify. At least this group was armed, each one still clutching a blackened staff. That made fourteen fallen. Doing some quick math, she calculated the abbey¡¯s full complement. There were thirty in total, twenty-three full-fledged monks, plus Sifu Haft and six acolytes currently in training. They would have been in the Vault doing their studies. The Vault.


    Iskvold pressed on through the main hall, out the side door to the left of the dais, and into the dojo. Racks of weapons lined two walls framing a central heavy woven grass mat with a large painted circle in the middle - the abbey¡¯s main sparring ring. In the circle lay a second of the hook-headed creatures surrounded by three more fallen monks. Oddly, none of these bodies were charred. The weapons racks and everything on them had burned to cinders. In stark contrast, the mat, though riddled with cast-off blood spatter, showed no signs of fire. Iskvold was numb as she looked down into the faces of Kai, Lin, and Finnegan, shoving her foot against the second creature, staff poised to strike. Seventeen. She crossed the dojo towards the transcription room and the Vault.


    One of the two doors was ajar, belching smoke into the larger sparring facility. The transcription room still burned. Normally, this was where the abbey did their commissioned literary work. At any given time, four or five monks would be researching, writing, and transcribing at the long tables with piles of texts from the Vault below spread out in front of them. Tapestries and paintings adorned the walls, along with shelves of supplies ¨C paper, binding, ink, and quills. As Iskvold poked her head in, the room was unrecognizable.


    All the tables had collapsed, with three still actively on fire. The artwork was nothing more than soot outlines on the stone walls. Multiple shelving racks were also alight, their contents already disintegrated. Her hopes buoyed seeing the flush stone of the anterior wall. The Vault was closed! The access point, however, was buried under the flickering rubble.


    Thinking quickly, Iskvold moved to the window on the adjacent wall, driving her elbow into the blackened folding shutters. Need water. Spying the nearby millpond, she reached into her mind, again summoning her Ki. The white energy crackled as she magically reached for the water. Closing her fist and pulling it back into the room, a liquid cylinder two feet wide and thirty feet long burst from the pond¡¯s surface and through the window, cascading across the transcription room. A sustained hiss and a bloom of smoke and steam filled the air. Equally drenched, Iskvold coughed and pushed the hair from her eyes, feeling quite satisfied as she surveyed the space.


    The few stubborn tendrils of smoke that remained rapidly surrendered. Shoving the charred furniture aside, she ran her foot over the charcoal slurry covering the floor to expose the small stone that served as the release for the Vault door. Under normal circumstances, the door was ajar, especially if the abbey¡¯s residents were working down below. Sifu drilled two different security protocols into everyone at the Luminarium to safeguard their knowledge repository. At any sign of outsiders, the door was to be closed, making it all but invisible to anyone unaware of its location. At times of significant threat, the lockstone she now sought was pressed flush with the floor, making the Vault practically impenetrable from either side until the stone was pressed again. Locked. Good. Maybe someone survived.


    Finding the stone unresponsive, Iskvold dropped to her hands and knees, tracing her short fingernails around its outer edges to clear any debris. Prying out a piece of grit, she tried again, and the stone reluctantly popped into its typical raised position. She hurried over to an unremarkable spot in the wall a few feet to her right and pushed. Relieved to feel the familiar click, the stone receded to expose a simple staircase cut from the earth, stone slabs acting as stair treads, descending ten feet before making a right turn. Then - a sound and the faintest rustle of movement below. Instinctively, she gripped the staff as a figure emerged from the shadows at the foot of the stairs. A flash of blue eyes. A familiar stance. Sifu Haft. Iskvold¡¯s posture slumped as she lowered the staff.


    Not particularly tall among humans, Sifu had close-cropped thinning hair and a substantial mustache that stuck out from his lip more than an inch.


    ¡°Iskvold! Praise be to Kord! I thought we might never get out of there!¡± Haft turned over his shoulder and called back into the Vault, ¡°All clear! It¡¯s Iskvold!¡±.


    For a man of his advanced age, his sustained fitness was impressive. The abbot sprinted up the stairs two at a time as she stepped back, allowing him to enter. At his back, six acolytes scurried from the Vault below, afraid of too much distance separating them from their teacher.


    ¡°I was giving the initiates a lesson when we heard what sounded like Tiamat crashing a tea party, and they closed and locked us in immediately.¡±


    His voice trailed off, his jaw muscles flexing as he crested the stairs and surveyed the room.


    Regaining his composure, Haft¡¯s posture went ramrod straight as he turned to Iskvold.


    ¡°Status¡± was all he said.


    She found his return to discipline settling, and the muscle memory of her training took over. The Drow delivered an emotionless and thorough accounting of all she¡¯d seen and experienced since arriving at the front gates (leaving out only her bizarre rage bender). Sifu and the acolytes listened intently, the former furrowing his brow at several points during the debrief but never interrupting. When she finished, he clasped his hands behind his back, raised himself to his full though modest height, and turned to face the group.


    ¡°Right¡­This is an immense and unfathomable loss for all of us, and it will take time to process. Even in this most difficult moment, however, we must focus on protecting the Luminarium and our remaining brotherhood first and foremost. I promise there will be time later to mourn and wrestle with what just happened and why. But right now, I need your purpose and clarity of action, however difficult that may be.¡±


    He turned to face each of them directly as he fired off instructions. ¡°Iskvold - take Esmi and Jin, sweep the rest of the abbey. Make sure the fire is completely out and bring any injured to the mess hall. Nori - you and How begin moving the dead to the outer courtyard. Usha ¨C fetch Tsuta and the rest from the beacon outposts. We will suspend watch duties until we have things back in order. Graver - I want you to ride immediately to the Abbey of the Crystal Dawn¡­¡± He paused as he stepped to the window, craning his neck to the left. ¡°Scratch that. The stables have been burned to the ground. First, see if you can find any of the horses wandering about; maybe we¡¯ll get lucky. If you do, ride. If you don¡¯t, you¡¯ll need to go on foot. When you get there, tell Sifu Aganon what happened here and that we need to call on the Pact of the Brotherhood for assistance. Ask him to spread the word to the other orders on our behalf.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sifu!¡± came the chorus in response, and they all moved quickly to their assigned duties.


    The old monk closed the door to the vault and pressed the lockstone back into position, level with the floor.


    ¡°The Vault stays locked until we have things better under control.¡±

 3. The Monks - Nothing but Questions

    Tsuta was mesmerized by a hummingbird flitting among the blossoms of a large trumpet vine growing below the overlook when Usha burst around the corner, out of breath.


    ¡°Raven! What are you doing here? What¡¯s the matter?¡±


    Raven was the nickname Tsuta had given Usha due to her black glossy hair ¨C unusual for a dwarf.


    ¡°Abbey attacked...fire¡­many dead,¡± she spat out between deep gulps of air, her hands braced against her knees as she doubled over from exertion. In only her fourth week, Usha and the other initiates hadn¡¯t yet completed the rigorous physical training that was the cornerstone of Sifu¡¯s curriculum.


    Tsuta handed her his waterskin, and she drank greedily, catching him up on the attack, the situation at the abbey, and her instructions to retrieve those on watch at the Beacons in between swallows. Her hands shook as she spoke.


    The poor girl is panicking. Not surprising, given what she just experienced. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay¡­ Breathe¡­ We¡¯ll be all right. Sounds like the immediate danger has passed. To master your Ki, you¡¯ve got to stay in control. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    His calm tone and reminder of their core teaching helped Usha regain composure. She drew a deep breath, cheeks ballooning in a long audible exhale. Tsuta slung his pack over his shoulder and grabbed his staff but paused before turning the corner to the descending stairs.


    Realizing he had stopped, Usha turned to see him drop his things and move across the yard to the Beacon. Reaching down, he picked up two logs and a blue sphere and tossed them into the fire. Holding her gaze, he said:


    ¡°We can¡¯t forget our duty. Dangerous creatures have breached the pass, everyone needs to know.¡±


    Her eyes followed as he gazed skyward. A thick ribbon of blue smoke began to ascend almost immediately from the chimney. Though she knew how the beacons operated, this was the first time Usha had seen one of the flares in action. The column of dark blue rose rapidly, straight as an arrow, unaffected by the breeze. Wrapped in a faint glow, it gave off more luminescence than she expected against the late afternoon overcast. They watched silently for several seconds before Tsuta¡¯s voice brought her back to the moment.


    ¡°I always wondered how the flares could be seen at night,¡± he muttered idly, almost to himself. ¡°There must be a light spell included in the incantation ¨C see how the smoke glows?¡± He retrieved his pack and staff. ¡°Let¡¯s go get the others.¡±


    Quickly descending from the beacon¡¯s plateau, dwarf and elf pushed southeast toward their first destination ¨C the central outpost. Tsuta knew the terrain well and took the lead, threading them three miles through the foothills of the Glimmerstones. Constantly visible in the distance on their left, the stone structure of the Luminarium sighed a continuous thin trail of black smoke. The bald elf probed the initiate for more information as they walked.


    ¡°Tell me about the creatures that attacked us. How many? Did anyone recognize what they were?¡±


    ¡°No one could name them.¡± Her voice wavered, barely audible. Her gaze stayed fixed on his heels. ¡°There were two, and they must have been close to seven feet tall or more, slim build, almost like they were starving- skin stretched over bone, it didn¡¯t look natural¡­ and they had a big hook sticking out of the tops of their heads.¡± Her voice broke. ¡°With wicked-looking claws on their hands and feet, and a long tail with a spike at the end.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing great,¡± Tsuta reassured her. ¡°I know reliving the moment is the last thing you want to do, but it¡¯s important. Did they use weapons or magic?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see any weapons, so I guess magic since they also set the whole abbey on fire.¡±


    Tsuta nodded almost imperceptibly in agreement before adding:


    ¡°There had to be more than two if no one was left alive to tell us about it. That means there are others still out there somewhere. So, the question is ¨C what were they after and where did they go?¡±


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    By the time they reached the base of the stairs at the central outpost, the late afternoon sun had broken through the cloud cover. Tsuta paused to wipe the light sweat off his bald head. Usha, however, was not in the same physical shape as the elf. Plopping herself unceremoniously on the bottom stair, she lowered her head between her knees and sucked in several long breaths.


    ¡°Tell you what, Raven,¡± he said. ¡°We don¡¯t both need to go up there. You stay here and catch your breath; I¡¯ll be back in a few minutes.¡±


    The dwarf raised her head momentarily to meet his gaze with a look of unspoken gratitude. Wordlessly nodding and closing her eyes, she propped herself against the plateau¡¯s cool stone face as he moved past her and headed up the stairs to the outpost.


    More questions swirled around his brain as he began the climb. Questions he kept to himself given the fragile state of his traveling companion. Something didn¡¯t add up. If they came from the east, why had there been no warning? Had Shan already fallen? He turned the problem over in his mind as he ascended. But if they came from Siremiria, surely one of the outposts would have already sent a flare. Someone, somewhere, must have seen them coming. His thoughts turned to the creatures themselves. Easily the most traveled among the abbey¡¯s monks, he¡¯d never encountered or even heard of something matching Usha¡¯s description. Hooks on their heads?


    Although the outposts were identical in layout and construction, the contrast with the one he had just left was obvious as he reached the plateau. The smell of wood smoke hung heavily in the air, its haze shrouding the plateau. Tsuta froze as his gaze fell upon the charred cabin¡¯s remains. His grip on the staff tightened. To his left, the beacon was a pile of smoldering bricks and rubble. A familiar tingle of apprehension raced up his spine. He called out tentatively to the monks supposedly on duty. No reply. Holding his breath, he silently stepped around the front of the shelter¡¯s remains to the overlook, staff at the ready. Scanning the interior, expecting corpses, his focus moved quickly through the discernable shapes - a blackened oil lamp, the remains of the meditation mat. Empty. Where are they?


    Looping around the blackened hull, he cautiously inspected the beacon yard. Probing with the butt of his staff through the rubble of bricks, mortar, and smoldering coals he found no sign of the occupants. The woodpile had been toppled; logs splayed across the ground. What¡¯s this? The rear of the clearing behind the beacon was teeming with ladybugs. Hundreds of them, writhing and climbing over each other in reckless abandon, blanketed the ground and the lower limbs of the trees framing the yard. That¡¯s odd. The cry of a lone hawk from the next ridge startled him back into the moment. Overall, consistency with Usha¡¯s account of the abbey attack suggested the hook-headed creatures had also been here, but where were his brothers?


    Puzzled, Tsuta returned to the overlook. Automatically falling into the watch routine ¨C scan the pass, the mountainside, the peaks ¨C he was desperate for any clue to understand how the outpost had been breached. Oh no. His head swam. A wave of nausea swept over him as he braced himself against the railing. Directly below the overlook, two bodies in the white robes of the Luminarium lay twisted into unnatural positions, blood splattered across the rocky precipice that became their final resting place. He touched his Ki to regain focus as he took in the scene more rationally. It was what he didn¡¯t see that the elf found most curious. Turning to the shelter¡¯s footprint, he carefully picked through the rubble until he found them- the charred remains of two staves he knew to be the standard oaken issue of the Luminarium. How were they set upon so quickly that they didn¡¯t even have time to grab their weapons?


    Pivoting once again to the overlook, Tsuta studied its stone construction for any sign of a fight. Not a fresh gouge or even a scratch to suggest a struggle. Whatever happened here took the monks entirely by surprise. Something had thrown them from the overlook. No chance they jumped. Either way, he and Usha needed to get to the southern outpost immediately, before darkness fell. Bundling the two blackened staves with his own, Tsuta raced down the stairs back toward the resting dwarf below.


    Usha felt the vibrations of his return as she caught her breath, her dwarven senses finely attuned to stone and all its characteristics. Only one person and moving quickly - that can¡¯t be good. She rose and turned to face the stairs just as Tsuta came around the corner into view.


    ¡°We gotta go, Raven!¡± he shouted as he closed the distance between them.


    ¡°Why? Where are the others?¡± She asked, somewhat confused.


    ¡°Dead. We¡¯ve got to get to the southern Beacon before we lose daylight. We¡¯ll need to run.¡± He had come to a halt beside her.


    Usha began to protest. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I can¡­¡±


    Before she could finish the sentence, Tsuta muttered some words she didn¡¯t understand, and his left hand began to glow and crackle. He had anticipated her exhaustion. Placing his hand on her shoulder, the dwarf drew in a sharp breath as the healing magic coursed through her. The cold rush was pure exhilaration. Instantly, the ache in her legs and the burning in her lungs vanished. An unconscious laugh escaped her lips from the unexpected euphoria. She felt fresh from a full night¡¯s rest. Incredible! She had never been the recipient of magic before.


    ¡°Better?¡± He asked, holding her gaze.


    ¡°Wow. Yeah, I¡¯m good!¡± she nodded, still grinning.


    With that, the two hurried into the lengthening shadows towards the southern outpost, the dwarf quietly giggling, buoyed by the cascading warmth of his spell.

 4. The Monks - The Thing about Ladybugs

    It was one of those rare sunsets that take your breath away. A bright orange blush framed the jagged foreground of treetops and mountain peaks, drifting into a purply blue glow. The universe offered a fleeting moment of unbridled beauty on the worst day of her young life. Despite the circumstances, Iskvold took a moment to appreciate it and collect herself. Standing alone in the courtyard, her thoughts returned to the carefully arranged remains of her friends at her feet. As the frustration reemerged, pain registered in her brain. She looked down to find her hands tightly balled into fists, driving her fingernails into her palms. Tears silently dripped from her chin. We didn¡¯t even have enough linens to cover them all.


    At the edge of her vision, two points of light bobbed towards her from the southwest. Watching their approach, she quickly made out the forms of Tsuta and Usha holding staves over their heads to light the path home. Only the two of them. This isn''t good.


    ¡°Hail Tsuta, where are the others?¡± She called out once they were within earshot as she stepped to the locked gate.


    ¡°Hey Pinky,¡± came the reply. Deflated. Resigned. Though she had used the formal greeting that the current circumstances warranted, his response told her something else was on his mind. The whine of aged iron pierced the evening silence as she opened the lock and swung the gate back to let them inside.


    ¡°Dead, and both other beacons destroyed. How bad is it here?¡± Tsuta asked her, and she could do no more than numbly tilt her head back over her right shoulder in response. As he raised his staff to increase the range of the magical light that burned from its tip, two rows of bodies in perfect lines stretched into view. Only half were covered with linen. But all had been positioned on their backs, arms crossed over the chest, seventeen in total. Tsuta exhaled audibly as his shoulders slumped. Both seeking and offering some consolation, Iskvold unconsciously leaned into the new arrivals. The three embraced silently for several moments before Usha began to weep quietly, her sobs muffled in Iskvold¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°What about the attackers?¡± Tsuta asked as he pulled back. Iskvold extended a left thumb pointing behind her as she held the acolyte to her chest.


    Tsuta raised his staff again as he stepped past her, and a pile of charcoal grey limbs and torsos appeared out of the retreating darkness. With none of the care and consideration evident in the arrangement of their fallen comrades, it was difficult to tell where one of the creatures ended and the other began. Tsuta studied them intently as he circled the remains. Lifting one of the tails, he winced as the second creature¡¯s head was fully exposed. Skin as black as midnight, jagged teeth, and a menacing horn ¨C a nightmare made of flesh. Even death didn¡¯t soften its savagery and intimidation.


    ¡°Anyone know what they are?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No idea,¡± she said. ¡°We just call them hookheads; nothing else fits.¡± Usha straightened up and wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying to regain control of her breathing. Iskvold squeezed the dwarf¡¯s arm reassuringly and reached past her to close and relock the gate.


    ¡°We should debrief with Sifu. He will want to hear about the other Beacons¡±. She instinctively put her arm around Usha¡¯s shoulder, guiding her back towards the abbey entrance. Tsuta dropped the tail, wiped his hands on the side of his leg, and followed them inside. The smell of burnt wood reached his nostrils as he crossed the threshold, lost in thought.


    ¡°Almost everything was ruined by the fire, but we managed to tidy up the mess hall. We¡¯re all squatting there for the moment.¡± Iskvold gave the cloakroom door a shove, and it groaned reluctantly on its hinges before granting them passage. Only two of the long tables still stood. The remains of the others were a charred pile of wood in the corner. A low fire flickered in the fireplace, providing the only light source, and the smell of sweat was carried on the warm air escaping into the cloakroom. With the door announcing their arrival, the occupants all turned to the newcomers. Sifu Haft was seated at the table facing them, with Nori to his left. Esmi, How, and Jin sat across from them. Though they all rose, only Sifu crossed the room towards them.


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    ¡°Tsuta, very glad to see you! Where are the others?¡± Tsuta pursed his lips and shook his head. The older man retreated to the table as the others parted, allowing room for Tsuta, Usha, and Iskvold to sit.


    ¡°Tell me everything.¡±


    Tsuta drew a deep breath and stared at the table¡¯s pockmarked surface as he spoke. He recounted his evening¡¯s activities at the other outposts in nearly identical detail - Beacons destroyed, shelters burned. He described his discovery of both pairs of duty monks hundreds of feet below the overlook, broken and almost unrecognizable.


    As he finished speaking, silence fell over the group for several moments until Tsuta raised his head and looked around at the long faces of his brothers and sisters.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Graver?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I sent him to the Crystal Dawn and asked him to activate the Pact, though we may be on our own for a while ¨C he had to go on foot.¡±


    Sifu continued, ¡°What I don¡¯t understand is how the hookheads got to the beacons and into the abbey without anyone noticing. They had to pass right by here to get to the outposts, or you would have seen them coming through one of the passes.¡±


    ¡°I may be able to answer that,¡± Tsuta said. ¡°There was one other thing I noticed¡­¡±


    Sifu Haft held the monk¡¯s gaze and raised his eyebrows expectantly.


    ¡°Well, out with it man! This is no time for dramatics!¡±


    ¡°At the central outpost, I saw a large swarm of ladybugs at the back of the plateau, next to the beacon. Southern outpost ¨C same thing.¡±


    He looked around at the faces of his friends, all showing expressions of confusion.


    ¡°So? ¡­I¡¯m not following,¡± Iskvold blurted impatiently.


    ¡°I''ve learned that magic attracts ladybugs. It''s something in the residual energy, a side effect of the casting. It¡¯s like they feed off the traces left behind.¡±


    ¡°So, you believe that because you found ladybugs, magic was used to bring the hookheads to the outposts? That seems a little far-fetched. I mean, they live in these forests naturally.¡± Sifu was unconvinced.


    ¡°That¡¯s just it,¡± Tsuta continued. ¡°One or two, sure, but the first time I noticed it, I had cast a light spell onto a staff tip ¨C like I did tonight. Within ten minutes, almost twenty ladybugs had gathered directly where I cast the spell. They stayed for hours, writhing around in a frenzy.¡± He emphatically tapped his index finger on the tabletop. ¡°Have you ever seen twenty in one place like that before?¡±


    The murmurs of denial around the table conveyed the group¡¯s agreement, so Tsuta continued.


    ¡°Magic attracts ladybugs. The stronger the spell, the more of them swarm to it. My most powerful spell brought fifty once. Tonight? At each outpost, I stopped counting at four hundred.¡±


    He left his conclusion hanging in the air, unspoken for several moments before Sifu Haft said it out loud.


    ¡°You¡¯re suggesting that not only was some kind of spell used to drop the hookheads on top of us, but it was very powerful magic at that?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Far more powerful than I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±


    Sifu¡¯s mustache twitched furiously as he silently considered the implications. The hiss and pop of burning wood from the mess hall¡¯s fireplace droned in the background as they waited expectantly. Finally, he spoke.


    ¡°I want to think on this.¡± Turning his head to address what remained of the abbey¡¯s order, he raised his chin. ¡°I want you all to know that I am extremely proud of how everyone responded today in the face of disaster. We lost everything except who we are.¡± His lips pressed into a tight line as he rose, knuckles whitening against the table¡¯s edge. ¡°As I look around this table, I see resilience, courage, and the determination to make tomorrow a little better than today. I also feel the resolve necessary to get to the bottom of what happened here and bring justice for our brothers and sisters.¡± The abbey¡¯s master straightened to his full height, raising his head defiantly. ¡°As my own Sifu once said ¨C If you come for the Luminarium, you¡¯d best not miss! Today, someone missed, and I intend to make them regret that.¡± A chorus of hands thumping the table¡¯s wooden surface echoed around the empty mess hall.


    As the reverberations died away, he continued. ¡°I¡¯m afraid tomorrow will be another very long and difficult day. We must send off seventeen of our brothers and sisters, and we¡¯ll also have to figure out how to retrieve four more from below the outposts. Lean on each other. Let our shared sorrow be our strength¡­ Now, I know it¡¯s not the most comfortable¡­¡± He gestured to his right. ¡°¡­but I had Esmi and Jin drag the battle mat in from the dojo. I think it best if we all stay together in here tonight. Not to mention, it¡¯s the only mat that survived the fire.¡± Sifu nodded at Tsuta and Usha. ¡°Why don¡¯t you two get something to eat? We¡¯ve cobbled together some bread and soup in the kitchen, and I suggest we all try to get some rest.¡±

 5. The Spies - Caught in a Rundown

    Grym burst through the door, closing it behind him and pressing against the slab as if holding back an enemy force. The dwarf¡¯s eyes were wide as he hissed.


    ¡°They¡¯re at the base of the stairs ¨C hurry!¡±


    His two companions glanced up from the desk they were ransacking. Lunish, a female gnome, worked the lower drawers while the wizard Glynfir hurriedly flipped through paperwork on the surface.


    ¡°I think this is it!¡± he whispered excitedly, smoothing the folds of an official-looking document across the desktop. Lunish craned her neck to see past his larger form, finally hip-checking him to the side to get a look. Grym started across the room towards them, but before he could reach the desk, there was a loud click, and a section of the bookcase across the room flew open, spilling five soldiers into the space.


    They were in the commander¡¯s office at the top of a three-story tower in the heart of the garrison town of Chagrothlond. As a cell of an intelligence-gathering network called the Radiant Guardians, they were tasked with confirming a change to the beneficiary within Commander Duval¡¯s will and, oddly, the name of the barrister that had signed it. Breaking into military offices, however, was not their wheelhouse. Most assignments involved gathering information more organically from less formidable adversaries.


    ¡°Take them!¡± barked the first soldier that entered ¨C clearly in charge. He stepped aside, allowing the others to move towards the startled occupants.


    ¡°Shit! Shit! Shit!¡± was all Lunish could muster taking a step back, putting Glynfir between her and the guards. She felt her heart begin to race as panic rose in her chest.


    ¡°Of course, there¡¯s a secret door!¡± she heard Grym mutter, seeing his hand instinctively move towards the axe on his belt. The dwarf rolled his eyes and shook his head, disappointed in himself.


    ¡°What kind of military leader wouldn¡¯t have another way out of his own office? Especially when it¡¯s at the top of a Gonddamn tower!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s worry about it later ¨C we¡¯ve got to go!¡± Glynfir snipped. ¡°You both know the plan - rally at the south gate!¡± He spoke this last part louder, ensuring the guards could hear him.


    The wizard¡¯s left hand began to draw patterns in the air as he reached into his satchel with the other, extracting a small block of resin encasing an eyelash. Lunish immediately regained her senses and summoned her magical essence. With a flash, she shifted form into a mouse and scrambled up the back of Glynfir¡¯s robe and into his satchel.


    Muttering the words of the incantation, the wizard shunted his reluctant dwarven companion towards their only available exit ¨C the door he had just entered. Pulling it closed behind them to disrupt their pursuers¡¯ line of sight, he touched Grym¡¯s shoulder and released the spell. The two of them disappeared in a purple flash.


    The sound of multiple footsteps and the rustle of metal armor echoed up the open stairwell below them. Time was short. Grym hustled down the first half flight of stairs towards the oncoming guards, one hand quieting his chain shirt, the other his axe. As the dwarf reached the landing, six uniforms turned the corner from the level below. Like a well-armed caterpillar, they ascended in a synchronized march, single file, hugging the interior railing.


    The office door burst open, slamming against the stone wall before vomiting their shouting pursuers from the room above. From the courtyard, two iron bells began to peal in alarm, slightly off-beat, with frantic urgency. It was clear from the acoustic chaos ¨C the entire fort knew they were here. Grym¡¯s eyes frantically scanned the surroundings for any option of escape. Trapped. His heart rate accelerated, and his shoulders tensed as he tightened his grip on the axe. Better make the first shot count while I¡¯m still invisible.


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    Glynfir knew combat was a losing proposition. He also knew his dwarven friend would see it as the only option. Grym impulsively defaulted to violence before considering other possibilities. The wizard silently rolled his eyes. He¡¯s so black and white about these things. In this case, that choice would be disastrous. It was two against ten, and they were outflanked. Invisibility was their only advantage.


    The tower¡¯s split staircase landings were wide, designed to accommodate the flow of larger numbers. Maybe they¡¯re wide enough? Acting quickly, the wizard stretched one arm around his friend¡¯s shoulders, covering his mouth with the other hand. From right behind Grym¡¯s ear, he exhaled a whispered shushing sound and pulled the dwarf back towards him. The two retreated as far into the corner of the landing as the space would allow. He felt Lunish moving around in his satchel as they pressed themselves against the exterior wall and collectively held their breath.


    The rising guards stayed tight to the interior railing, crossing the landing oblivious to the invisible trio. The caterpillar¡¯s head stopped three stairs up, and the others spread out around him as the two groups angrily discussed the situation. Worried they could hear his racing heartbeat, the half-elven wizard clung tightly to his dwarven friend. Silently, they watched and waited, desperately hoping for an opportunity to flee.


    ¡°Did you see them? It¡¯s that halfie caster who took our silver playing dice last night.¡±


    ¡°No one came past us¡­ You mean that prick with the mustache?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! He was with a dwarf and a grubby little boy.¡±


    While the confused soldiers traded questions and accusations regarding the whereabouts of the intruders, the pair seized the moment. Releasing Grym¡¯s shoulders, Glynfir gave him a nudge towards the now-vacant descending staircase. The two tiptoed several feet across the landing and bolted down the stairs towards the open courtyard two and a half floors below. Abandoning any further attempt at stealth, the dwarf¡¯s rattling chain shirt announced their position with every footfall. The race was on. The pair flew down the stone stairs with eleven shouting pursuers in tow. The bells in the courtyard continued to ring out in warning.


    The guards firing at sounds sent a bolt from a hand crossbow zipping past Grym¡¯s ear, ricocheting off the nearby wall.  The sound of a crate of cutlery hitting the ground told Glynfir the invisible dwarf had tumbled down the last few stairs. I hope he¡¯s not hurt!  A muted groan followed.


    ¡°You okay?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Grym¡¯s hesitant tone suggested he was more embarrassed than injured.


    ¡°Are you hit?¡±


    ¡°No, I just tripped,¡± the dwarf admitted


    ¡°Okay. We need to split up. You know where to meet. Be careful!¡±


    With that, Glynfir rounded the corner to his left, running headlong into unexpected chaos.


    The normally sedate courtyard was in complete disarray. Bells rang, and groups of soldiers rushed in multiple directions. All the shops and stalls on the south side of the quad were either shuttered or in the process of hurriedly packing up. Throwing himself flat against the tower wall, he drew a deep breath and froze.


    Eight guards poured into the courtyard behind him, searching for any hint of their whereabouts. Several raced towards the South Gate ¨C the town¡¯s fortified main entrance. He watched as foot soldiers began forming a phalanx in front of the closed metal and wooden barrier while six wizards cast various spells on the ground between his current position and the exit. So, they know we¡¯re invisible. Word travels fast! Despite what he had said upstairs, the South Gate was not part of their escape plan. It had been a deliberate piece of disinformation. Though inexperienced in this level of espionage, only a fool wouldn¡¯t have another way out in case the original plan went sideways.  Recalling his druid friend in mouse form, the wizard checked in.


    ¡°Can you hear me, Lulu? Give me a wiggle,¡± he whispered


    He felt movement against his hip from within the bag. After pausing to allow another group of guards to vacate his proximity, he continued in the same hushed tone.


    ¡°Troops everywhere, but it looks like we¡¯re still good. They are all gathering by the south gate. Stay in form a while longer. I¡¯ll pull you out when we¡¯re clear.¡±


    Feeling another confirming wiggle, Glynfir shifted his gaze. On the north side of the courtyard, a series of catapults stood ready to defend the mountain pass known as Stonebreach. That was their way out.

 6. The Spies - Exit, Stage Left.

    Representing the line of demarcation between the Glimmerstone mountains continuing north and the Aether mountains to the south, Stonebreach was the only point of egress easily accessible to both the Kingdom of Shan and the Simerarian League territories to the west. As a result, while most passes were watched by various orders of monks higher up in the mountains, Stonebreach was very directly and actively defended.


    He had the idea when they first saw all the catapults set for launch on the north wall and found it positively ¡®uplifting¡¯. Grym told him these units, called mangonels, could easily launch heavy stones over five hundred feet. Given the height of Chagrothlond¡¯s mountainside perch over the surrounding forest, that should be more than enough carry to get them clear.


    The wizard picked his way north and east towards the catapults through the heavy foot traffic as quietly as he could. As he approached the middle of the quad, a guard turned unexpectedly, berating several lagging subordinates. The shaft of his spear caught the wizard squarely in the back, sending him sprawling to the ground. Gasping to catch his breath, Glynfir scrambled to his hands and knees. He and the soldier locked eyes in complete surprise for a long moment. Shit! He can see me.


    The wizard reacted first. Realizing the unexpected impact had broken his casting concentration, he sprang to his feet and ran in the opposite direction - towards the heavily armed south gate. Rapidly repeating the incantation and gesturing with his left hand, he fished around in his satchel for another resin block. The guard raised the alarm and hurled his spear. As the wizard completed the spell, purple energy swallowed him, and he snapped invisible again, cutting hard left, feeling the breeze of the passing missile on his cheek. The spear skidded harmlessly across the cobblestones. That was way too close!


    Breathing heavily, he returned to his original course and closed the remaining distance to the siege machines without incident. Crouching down behind the cairn of large stones between the third and fourth mangonel, Glynfir admired the ripple he had just inserted into the fort¡¯s chaos, smiled to himself, and waited for Grym.


    His apparition had caused quite the commotion. Commanding officers barked orders, and an ever-growing population of guards were frantically waving their spears at waist height between his last known location and the fortified gate. Even the casters had joined in, using every magical means available to expose his position. The sorcerer couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. You¡¯re not gonna get lucky a second time!


    Surveying the north side of the walled central square, he spotted a lone figure suspiciously wrapped in a tarpaulin, shuffling its way toward their position. That has to be him.


    When they parted ways, Grym had cut right, barely turning the corner before the guards reached the bottom of the stairs and had to choose a direction. His breathing ragged, heart hammering, he froze against the outside wall of the tower¡¯s staircase. This side of the quad was more commercial. Stalls selling fresh produce, grains, poultry, and baked goods lined the walls on either side of the main thoroughfare. The smell of fresh apple pie made his mouth water as three of the pursuing soldiers emerged mere feet to his left, scanning the area.


    Seeing nothing unusual, a short discussion ensued, sending two soldiers hurrying toward the South Gate. The third stepped cautiously into the main thoroughfare, intently scanning the rapidly closing stalls on both sides. Needing to circle the tower and cross the eastern side of the quad to reach the mangonels, Grym assessed his options. I should stay out of the main road - too much traffic. Glancing to his right, the dwarf noticed a makeshift alley behind the market stalls.


    Left clear to allow the merchants to come and go without squeezing between tightly packed wagons that served as storefronts, the rear alley offered a clear path to the tower¡¯s north side. I¡¯ll just slide along this wall to the corner, then leg it across the courtyard ¨C easy-peasy. Grym couldn¡¯t hold back a grin, extremely self-satisfied by his solid planning.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He stilled his axe and chainmail and began to shuffle cautiously north, the tower¡¯s wall at his back. He had moved less than ten feet along the alley before a commotion behind him rose above the already boisterous din of his surroundings. Glynnie!  The final guard charged back into the stairwell cut-through towards the outcry. Grym exhaled for the first time in what had felt like minutes. Turning back to resume his course, he found himself staring into the eyes of a very confused baker. And the baker was staring back.


    ¡°Took you long enough!¡± the half-elf chuckled as Grym shed his wrap and joined them behind the ammunition pile.


    ¡°Aye. Well, I found myself suddenly and rudely exposed¡­¡± He dramatically raised his eyebrows in the direction of his friend¡¯s voice. ¡°¡­and had to steal a burlap cover from one of the market stalls. Whatever you did, it certainly got their attention. Good thing too, because I don¡¯t think my disguise would have fooled anyone.¡±


    Glynfir chuckled again. ¡°Why do you smell like pie?¡±


    Grym¡¯s eyes darted left and right, a blank look on his face as he shrugged. ¡°You sure this is going to work?¡± the dwarf asked in a more serious tone, subtly licking the last of the sweet apple filling from his fingers.


    ¡°I¡¯d bet on it.¡±


    ¡°Knowing you like I do doesn¡¯t exactly give me a wagonload of confidence.¡±


    ¡°Only one way to find out!¡± The half-elf smiled. ¡°You take the one to your right, I¡¯ll take the one to my left. Since I can see you, I¡¯ll let fly on your mark.¡±


    Glynfir moved to the mangonel beside him and quietly climbed into the launch basin. Seeing Grym uncomfortably perched in the next catapult, he channeled his magic to summon a mage hand. One of the first spells he was taught. What it lacks in power, it makes up for in utility.


    A spectral translucent hand appeared, and he quickly moved it to grip the release handle for the catapult. As he watched Grym pull a dagger from his waistband, the dwarf turned in his direction and signaled a countdown with his fingers. Three, two, one. Glynfir reached into his satchel, wrapped his hand gently around Lunish¡¯s trembling form, and whispered, ¡°Hang on tight, Lulu, here we go!¡±


    As he watched Grym slash the rope that held the tension on his apparatus, he silently instructed the mage hand to pull his release lever.


    In nearly identical timing, both mangonels coughed out a loud thwack. The pair were hurled up into the air and over the tower wall. Watching the fort descend below him, his shoulder-length hair whipped across his face, causing his eyes to tear up. The wind giggled in his ears as they went higher and higher. What a rush! With only a few feet between them, he could hear Grym laughing infectiously as they rose nearly three hundred feet.


    Approaching the apex of their trajectory, the wizard retrieved Lunish from his satchel with one hand, pulling a small feather from his pocket with the other. Quickly speaking the incantation as they began to drop, Lunish flashed back to her normal form with Glynfir awkwardly holding her by the ankle.


    Gravity began to accelerate their drop. As he uttered the final words of the spell, a pink burst of energy surrounded the three of them. Its effect was instantaneous. Their rate of descent slowed immediately, and they fluttered toward the rising forest below as gently as a feather in the wind.


    Grym, still cackling, kept his eyes on the activity at the fort. Triggering the mangonels had only increased the cacophony of shouting and running as the military crowd converged on their last position. Several desperately hurled spears fell harmlessly short, snapping branches as they disappeared into the wooded hillside below. One small group, however, began turning and loading stones into the remaining catapults.


    ¡°They¡¯re firing on us!¡± he shouted across to the others


    ¡°Not us¡­¡± Glynfir shouted back, ¡°¡­just you!¡± reminding his friend that he and Lunish were still invisible.


    The dwarf shot an annoyed look in their direction while repositioning his helmet.


    As their descent carried them below the sight line of the garrison wall, Lunish spoke for the first time since regaining her normal form.


    She shouted defiantly towards the fort at the top of her lungs, ¡°I am NOT a grubby little boy!!!¡±


    Glynfir turned to her, his jaw agape and brow furrowed in confusion.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Lunish looked up at him sheepishly, head bowed. ¡°Also, I threw up in your satchel¡­¡±

 7. The Spies - Snuggles and Sweetheart

    ¡°You two Otyughs didn¡¯t even come to my defense! Grubby little boy¡­ How rude!¡±


    The gnome was setting a blistering pace through the wooded foothills just north of the Stonebreach as the trio put some distance between themselves and any potential pursuers from Chagrothlond. Comfortable with the terrain and fueled by her indignation, the druid effortlessly picked her way through the heavy brush skirting the eastern edge of Shardhelm ¨C the southernmost peak of the Glimmerstones. Grym was doing his best to keep up as he pleaded their case.


    ¡°Come on, Lulu. What did you expect us to do¡­give away our position outnumbered eleven to two so we could correct them on your true anatomy? We would all have ended up in irons or worse.¡± Grym shook his head.


    ¡°You¡¯re missing the point entirely!¡± The way her intonation rose on the last syllable made it clear he would not win this argument.


    Glynfir, lagging his more vocal companions, had known the druid a long time and knew better than to pursue the discussion, given her current state. Besides, he had several unresolved gripes of his own. The sorcerer was not fond of ¡°outside¡±. Every tree branch deliberately slapped his face as they picked their way north. One of his fine leather shoes was already soaked through, and he had mud on his robes from three tumbles in the last hour alone, not to mention the bugs! How could anyone prefer the wilderness to the civility of a nice cobblestone street or a warm hearth?


    The group pressed on through the fading daylight of the late summer evening for another two hours before Lunish spied a small cave cut into the hillside that would suit their purposes for the night. Glynfir was less than impressed but did his part to make it more habitable, tapping most of his remaining reservoir of magic to clear the stone interior of the debris, scat, and small animal bones left by its previous occupants. He also raised an earthen barrier across the cave mouth to hide the visibility of their campfire. I will not be cold AND uncomfortable tonight!


    Lunish put Grym to work gathering firewood and armloads of high grasses from a nearby field while she strode off into the falling darkness in search of a meal, still muttering under her breath.


    Their group was flexible with leadership, allowing whoever was best acquainted with the circumstances to call the shots. In the cities and among larger groups of people, the sorcerer took the lead, and in all underground situations, they deferred to Grym¡¯s dwarven heritage. But out here, in the wilds, no question who was boss. Lunish had given each of them instructions before departing and scrutinized their performance upon her return with a young turkey hen and replenished waterskins filled from a nearby spring.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve seen worse,¡± she stated matter-of-factly after surveying their temporary accommodations. Considering this to be reasonably high praise, the dwarf and half-elf exchanged beaming smiles like two small children who had successfully pleased a parent despite lingering disappointment in their prior behavior. With a couple of minor adjustments to their original work, Lunish called upon her magic to ignite the fire, producing a small flame in the palm of her hand before flicking it into the constructed tinder pile. Soon, the smell of roasting turkey filled the cave. The snapping fire and occasional hiss of drippings on the hot coals intermittently disrupted the soothing drone of the surrounding forest evening.


    Glynfir broke the silence.


    ¡°We should check in before we eat. Tell them what we found.¡± Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out a smooth stone that had the profile of an open-mouthed face carved intricately into its surface. This was a sending stone and their only means of communication with the Radiant Guardians. The magical artifacts, enchanted in pairs, enabled the exchange of mental messages between the two parties that possessed them. Regardless of distance or planes of existence, the stones were effective with a single limitation. Each stone could deliver one message per day, limited to twenty-five words or fewer, making linguistic efficiency critical.


    ¡°Do you know what you¡¯re gonna say, laddie? I don¡¯t even know what we found!¡± Grym replied. They hadn¡¯t discussed the mission¡¯s outcome since escaping Chagrothlond. The conversation during the walk had been dominated by the slight on Lunish¡¯s femininity and various forms of apologetic groveling.


    ¡°Well, we were asked to locate Duvall¡¯s current will and confirm if the beneficiary had been changed to someone other than his son. If it had, they wanted to know the new beneficiary, the solicitor that drafted it, and any strange symbols notated on the document¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware of the mission,¡± Grym interrupted. ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°It named his new wife ¨C Denora ¨C to inherit all his land, wealth, and chattels¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s unusual among humans, though not unheard of in recent times,¡± Lunish noted in a curious tone.


    ¡°What about the rest?¡± prompted Grym.


    ¡°It was drafted by someone named Garret Ferrier.¡±


    ¡°Also curious, given we checked beforehand, and there are only two solicitors in Chagrothlond, and he wasn¡¯t one of them,¡± Lunish added.


    Glynfir pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows, and nodded in silent confirmation.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°But there¡¯s more¡­¡± he continued. Picking up a nearby stick, he drew a line on the ground and placed a small circle underneath it. ¡°Both of their names had this underneath the first letter.¡±


    Grym rose, circling behind the others to peer over their shoulders at what Glynfir had scrawled into the dirt floor. He furrowed his brow.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Glynfir shook his head. Lunish reached down, running her fingers over the symbol, hoping a physical connection might spark her memory.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen that before either. Was there a date on the document?¡±


    ¡°The twenty-second of last month,¡± Glynfir nodded.


    ¡°¡­Only eleven days ago¡­and somehow they already suspected enough to send us¡­¡±


    Her face puckered, eyes narrow as she tried to understand what they had learned.


    The wizard began constructing the message he would deliver, playing with the words in his mind to ensure clarity and conformity to the Sending Stone¡¯s limitation.


    ¡°I hate that we never get the whole picture for the work we do,¡± Lunish idly remarked.


    ¡°Aye. That¡¯s the job, though, isn¡¯t it?¡± Grym said dismissively. ¡°We are the blunt instrument that gathers and relays, kept in the dark and then pointed at the next need¡­ But you must admit the pay is damn good ¨C one gold each per task. It makes me wonder how much The Hub charges for it on the other side.¡±


    ¡°I would bet a lot, and they probably sell it multiple times. These days, information is power!¡± Lunish speculated, releasing the pile of long red hair from under her hat, straightening and gathering it into two large bunches. ¡°Do you think I should wear my hair in a couple of braids?¡± The guard¡¯s earlier mistaken gender identification still tormenting her.


    The wizard, lost in his thoughts, rejoined the conversation.


    ¡°Okay, I think I have the message. What do you think of this: ¡°Document confirmed. New wife now sole heir. Beneficiary and Garrett Ferrier¡¯s signatures both had a line with a circle below the first letter¡±


    Grym repeated the message to himself, counting out word totals on his fingers.


    ¡°Twenty-three,¡± he concluded.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to add the code word¡­¡± Lunish reminded, ¡°¡­but otherwise I think it¡¯s fine.¡±


    The Radiant Guardians was an anonymous enterprise.  None of the three had met or directly spoken to anyone at The Hub. Originally recruited by another harvester like themselves, their names were enough to collect their wages from a specified business or individual within whatever town or city they found themselves.  Because the stones delivered messages back and forth as direct thoughts, they lacked recognizable vocal cues. As a result, the group had no idea who was on the other end of their reports, and their counterparty had no idea who was delivering the message.


    Such a system needed some security protocol. To this end, the Radiant Guardians insisted on an assigned code word at the beginning of each message. Though crude in form, it conveyed the necessary trust and reliability. Their code word was ¡°snuggles¡±. Likewise, every message from The Hub would begin with ¡°sweetheart¡±. During their brief training, it was repeatedly emphasized that to omit the code word, even once, would mean an immediate end to all communications from The Hub and direct termination of their employment. Similarly, any incoming message that didn¡¯t begin as expected was a signal to jettison their stone and abandon the arrangement.


    ¡°Aye, don¡¯t forget snuggles!¡± Grym giggled


    Glynfir sighed and shook his head. ¡°Yes, that was assumed, making it twenty-four total. I wish we could change our code word to something a little less cringy, though it does feel good to have someone calling me sweetheart.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I ever want to know who is on the other stone. Probably a huge letdown compared to the image I''ve created for Snuggles in my mind!¡± Grym chortled, and the others joined in.


    ¡°I do that too! Go on then - who¡¯s yours?¡± Lunish giggled. Not waiting for the dwarf to reply, she added, ¡°For me, she¡¯s tall, elvish¡­and definitely fit.  She¡¯s smart and confident and has a great sense of humor. She thinks all my quirks and issues are sexy, and her eyes¡­her eyes just swallow me up!¡± The gnome feigned a swoon, drawing laughs from the others.


    ¡°Okay, okay¡­For me, she¡¯s a stout dwarven lass - stubborn but practical. She¡¯s a great cook and takes no shit. In our relationship, she¡¯s clearly the boss. Oh - and she has a cute, wispy little beard.¡± They all laughed again. ¡°What about you, wizard?¡±


    ¡°You two have obviously put far more thought into this than I have,¡± Glynfir said sheepishly.


    ¡°Come on! You started it¡­and we told you ours! Who is snuggles for you?¡± Lunish chided


    ¡°Fine. For me, she¡¯s always reclining on a bed, bare legs crossed, wearing something sheer and silk. And big boobs.¡± He made a cupping gesture with his hands in front of his chest.


    ¡°What about her face or her hair?¡± Grym pressed his friend.


    The wizard shrugged.


    ¡°Dunno. I never get that far.¡±


    Lunish scrunched her face into a clear look of distaste.


    ¡°Ewww!¡± She drew the word out exaggeratedly. ¡°Typical man! You¡¯re such a shallow dog! Sometimes I wonder how we¡¯re friends!¡±


    The wizard¡¯s mustache shook as he chuckled.


    ¡°Admit it. You love the excitement. Without me, your life would be so boring!¡±


    She punched his shoulder playfully as all three shared another chuckle.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s true. You do keep me entertained!¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m sending it.¡± Glynfir squeezed the sending stone between his thumb and forefinger. Closing his eyes, the others went silent, momentarily allowing him to focus.


    ¡°Done.¡± He held the stone out to Lunish. ¡°I expect the reply will be directions on where to go next, and given where we are, it¡¯s probably best for you to receive it.¡± She took it from him and slid it into her pocket.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re admitting you can¡¯t find east on a sunny morning?¡± she smiled back at him.


    ¡°Perhaps not as bad as that, but you are the druid.¡± He said flatly.


    There was no way to know how long it would take for a response, though most arrived within two to three hours. The trio had learned that sending their updates before retiring was the most efficient approach. They almost always had a reply before beginning the next day¡¯s activities. With the official business concluded, the three friends settled in around the flickering glow of firelight dancing off the cave walls. They enjoyed a meal of wild turkey, idly speculating about the next destination. By the time evening had run its course, Grym had doffed his chainmail shirt, and Lunish had finished putting her hair into two slim braids that began on the top of her head and fell almost to her waist. Even Glynfir¡¯s previously sodden boot was now only damp, thanks to the warmth of the dwindling fire.


    As he stretched out on a deep layer of the high grass they had gathered, the wizard twirled his mustache and admitted that perhaps this outside life wasn¡¯t as bad as he had feared. Maybe it was the fresh meadow scent of their bedding mixed with wood smoke, the white noise of summer insects and hissing coals in the background, or simply the day¡¯s busy activities. Regardless, he was comfortably asleep in minutes.

 8. The Spies - With a Dragon??

    Sunlight streamed into the rapidly warming cave shortly after daybreak, and Grym was already sweating as he rose and stretched. Massaging his right shoulder, he rolled the joint several times to alleviate the stiffness brought on by several hours on a stone surface ¨C grass notwithstanding.  As he gazed out the cave mouth across the treetops, he heard Glynfir groan to his right.


    ¡°Ugh. My hip¡­and, well, my ass!¡± The wizard sat up and raised his hand to block the light from his squinting eyes as he turned to the dwarf. ¡°You know, when we crashed last night, I was thinking this wasn¡¯t so bad ¨C sleeping rough - but I take it all back. I feel like I¡¯ve been kicked by a centaur!¡±


    Grym laughed, stroking his salt-and-pepper beard. ¡°Aye, it does take some getting used to.¡±


    The wizard rose and began some stretching of his own.


    ¡°I seriously can¡¯t feel my ass right now¡­¡± Rubbing his right butt cheek, he directed a nod to the space between them. ¡°Where¡¯s Lunish?¡±


    ¡°Dunno.¡± Grym shrugged as he retrieved his chain shirt and began the cumbersome process of getting it on over his tunic. ¡°She was already gone when I got up. Can you give me a hand here?¡±


    After assisting his friend with the armor, Glynfir picked up what had been dubbed the official ¡®fire poking stick¡¯ the night before and proceeded to fruitlessly stir the fire¡¯s remains in search of any salvageable embers. Realizing he was accomplishing nothing other than covering them both in a fine layer of ash, he tossed the stick into the circle of stones and turned his attention to the remains of the turkey. Grym quickly recognized the genius of this idea, and within moments, the two of them were huddled around the carcass and picking away at the leftovers like a couple of crows, the grease on their fingers and faces reflecting in the morning sunlight, and that is exactly how Lunish found them.


    ¡°Thought you two might sleep all day!¡± She bubbled, stepping into the cave around the earthen barrier Glynfir had constructed the evening before.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± Grym asked her between bites.


    ¡°Foraging.¡± She opened the top of her shoulder satchel to reveal three apples and enough raspberries to share. ¡°These should go well with whatever you¡¯re calling this.¡± She made a circle in the air with her hand around the two of them and the turkey carcass, a slightly disgusted look on her face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t knock it until you try it! Grym boasted, ¡°Here ¨C pull up some grass.¡±


    He shifted over, making some room. Lunish sat down, emptying the contents of her satchel onto the previous night¡¯s bedding next to the turkey carcass, and they all dug in.


    ¡°So¡­did we get a reply?¡± Glynfir asked as he popped several raspberries into his mouth.


    ¡°We did,¡± She confirmed. ¡°They want us to go to a monastery called The Luminarium. Apparently, it signaled a perimeter breach yesterday, and they want to know the details.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Works for me.¡± Grym nodded, his lower lip protruding in a sign of acceptance. Glynfir¡¯s eyes narrowed as he looked at her suspiciously.


    ¡°How far, Lulu?¡±


    ¡°About a day and a half I figure, if we take the road. We might be a bit quicker if we go overland, but it¡¯s pretty rough terrain, and you never know what we might run into.¡±


    The men looked at each other and simultaneously exclaimed


    ¡°Road!¡±


    ¡°But that means another night of sleeping rough.¡± Glynfir deflated


    ¡°You¡¯re such a whiner!¡± She chided him. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone with elven blood so averse to nature!¡±


    ¡°You grew up with this. It¡¯s who you are. I grew up with humans¡­in a town¡­with buildings¡­and beds!¡± he reminded her.


    Grym shook his head. ¡°I¡¯d swear you two were an old married couple if I didn¡¯t know better.¡±


    The banter between half-elf and gnome continued as they stowed their belongings in preparation for a long day of walking. Glynfir¡¯s spirits were buoyed somewhat by having a fully dry pair of shoes to begin the trek.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to head overland to the east for a couple of miles until we pick up the road from Chagrothlond. We can follow that north until we reach the Shand, then take that road west to the Luminarium.¡± The gnome itemized their itinerary as the group filled their waterskins from a nearby stream.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve got an old friend that lives up that way.¡± Grym mused as they pressed single file through the dense woodland. ¡°Draconic wizard named Glamos. Haven¡¯t seen him in more than ten years. We adventured together before I took up this more, ahem, honest work. We should stop by and say hello. He might even have some knowledge of what happened.¡±


    ¡°Draconic? Are you saying you have a dragon for a friend? How have we never heard this before?¡± inquired Glynfir suspiciously, once again bringing up the rear.


    ¡°Not a dragon¡­draconic.¡± Lunish corrected him. ¡°They are a rare offspring of dragon and human.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­What? How is that even possible? Stop, don¡¯t tell me, I¡¯m already forming mental pictures I¡¯ll never be able to unsee.¡± Glynfir grimaced, closed his eyes, and shook his head as if to expel the undesired images.


    ¡°I would have thought you, of all people, being of mixed species background yourself, would be more accepting.¡± Lunish hid her smile from him as she teased her friend.


    ¡°That¡¯s unfair! In my case, the two species were anatomically similar ¨C two arms, two legs, no tail or wings. Ugh! More bad mind pictures! So, is he a dragon with human features or a human with dragon features? Does he breathe fire? Was he hatched from an egg?¡±


    Grym sighed. ¡°I¡¯m glad we¡¯re getting all of this out of the way before you meet him. Saves me the embarrassment. He¡¯s human in stature with dragon features, and yes, he was hatched from an egg. No, he doesn¡¯t breathe fire because his heritage is a white dragon, not red. So, he can breathe frost.¡± The dwarf patiently itemized answers he had given many times in the past. ¡°Come to think of it, the climate is probably why he chose to retire up in the mountains. It also helps him avoid dealing with curios kobolds like you and all these ignorant questions!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just interested!¡± Glynfir tried to defend his position while maintaining a grin. ¡°A white dragon. That means that somehow¡­at some point¡­a human male mated with a female ice dragon¡­¡± He let the implication hang silently in the air momentarily. ¡°I would love to buy that man a drink. Talk about dedication!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s so rare,¡± Lunish chuckled. ¡°I¡¯d be surprised if he survived the coupling¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Grym!¡± She apologized for egging the wizard on.


    The dwarf shook his head. ¡°You two are terrible!¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m done.¡± the wizard snorted ¡°I won¡¯t mention any of it when we meet him, I promise!¡±


    The conversation¡¯s conclusion coincided with the surrounding forest abruptly serving up a dirt trail perpendicular to their current path. Though barely wide enough for a wagon, Lunish was confident this was the ¡°road¡± they sought. The group turned north toward their destination in high spirits, blissfully unaware of how profoundly the next forty-eight hours would impact the trajectory and duration of their lives.

 9. The Thieves - A Horn and Bottle Joint

    As far as doors went, it was pretty standard - wooden slats with an open cutout at eye level - but he knew what lay beyond was often unpredictable. They were four days¡¯ ride out of Buhlent, but it could be four hundred. Left behind were the chaos of the city streets and their fluid kaleidoscope of every race and culture the Eastern continent had to offer. This far inland, ¡°civilization¡± consisted of a series of homogenous small towns of mostly humans, each with varying tolerance and perspective.


    They were wedged between the foothills of the Glimmerstone mountains and the Sshanderiusha River (locally referred to as the Shand). What is this town called again? Doesn¡¯t matter. He knew the pub was still the best place to source information and funds. A familiar apprehension tickled the pit of his stomach. This far inland, the local reaction to his kind ran the spectrum from friendly curiosity to small-minded fear and hostility.


    He thought about his companion, a female halfling named Whydah, mildly resenting that she always fared better. I¡¯m sure that has something to do with me. Her people were more numerous on the continent and closer in appearance, if not in stature, to humans. He concluded that when the company you keep is a nearly seven-foot-tall black house cat that walks on two legs and speaks, you¡¯re easily dismissed as the lesser peculiarity.


    As his hand paused at the door, he looked at her, eyebrows raised, with a nod of questioning confirmation. She returned the nod, and he pressed inside, ducking below the door frame to avoid repeating a lesson he¡¯d learned the hard way several times since he¡¯d landed on the continent.


    Not a bad crowd for mid-week before sundown. His yellow eyes darted quickly, reading the room for some indication of the type of evening to expect. A low purr of pleasant surprise droned in his throat, seeing a blend of farmers and travelers of both sexes with a couple of dwarves and elves mixed in for good measure. The ubiquitous pause that accompanied his entry to any tavern was shorter than usual, with most everyone returning to their briefly interrupted conversation unconcerned. This was a good start.


    He took in their surroundings, formulating rapid conclusions that would shape the rest of the evening. The place itself prioritized function over form, with little in the way of decoration. Plain wooden tables and benches dotted the interior, while a basic bar counter occupied one end. The walls and ceiling were adorned with bundles of plants in various stages of desiccation, likely drying for cooking or medicinal purposes, or perhaps to blunt the general stank of pub that greeted his nostrils regardless.


    Glancing towards the other end of the room, he found what he was looking for ¨C a small musician¡¯s area currently filled with extra tables and supplies. A young woman in her mid-teens flitted among the crowd, bringing drinks and food to the patrons, and judging from the family resemblance, her father was behind the bar.


    As he approached, the man broke into a smile.


    ¡°Welcome to Barrel¡¯s Wash. I¡¯m the proprietor, Egon Barrel - what¡¯ll it be?¡±


    A glance behind the bar reminded him again of the limitations of their current geography. In Buhlent, he would have chosen a shot of Neverclear, particularly if the establishment had the catnip-infused variety, or perhaps one of the chic ¡®cantails¡¯ ¨C cocktails imbued with minor magical cantrips that were currently all the rage.  There would be none of that here. He could see immediately that The Barrel was only a horn-and-bottle sort of place, offering ale by the horn or local whiskey by the bottle. He observed nothing more complicated among the crowd.


    He looked to Whydah with raised eyebrows.


    ¡°Ale?¡±


    She confirmed with another nod, and he held up two fingers to the bartender.


    Egon reached under the counter to retrieve two clean horns.


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    ¡°Coming right up. I didn¡¯t catch your name¡­¡±


    ¡°This is Whydah, and I am Singing Bird, but you can just call me Bird.¡±


    The rolled ¡®r¡¯ in his name announced an accent different from that of the proprietor and not local.


    ¡°Bird¡­but you¡¯re a cat¡­¡± Egon said, his voice trailing off with a quizzical smile.


    ¡°A tabby, yes, and believe me, I am painfully aware of the irony!¡±


    Egon chuckled. Unable to resist the opportunity for a dad joke, he shifted his gaze to Whydah.


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re old enough for ale, young lady?¡±


    Bird winced. Knowing his companion to be the no-nonsense halfling woman she was, he was certain Egon would be unhappy with the response to his attempt at humor. Whydah¡¯s slightly declined head, single raised eyebrow, and icy side-eye didn¡¯t disappoint.


    After awkwardly chuckling at his joke, Egon muttered something about being right back as he moved to the other end of the bar where a tapped keg lay on its side on a rear shelf.


    He returned, momentarily carrying both horn handles in one of his hands, grabbing a small towel from a stack beside the keg and dropping it in front of them before serving their drinks. Its purpose became immediately apparent as the ale sloshed out of the over-filled horns with a flourish as part of the presentation.


    ¡°That¡¯ll be 4 coppers, please.¡±


    Bird fished the coin purse out of his leathers and produced the coins. Running low. He tucked it back under his jerkin. We¡¯ll fix that soon enough.


    Egon nodded in appreciation as Bird passed him the coins and asked


    ¡°Will yous be wantin¡¯ supper?¡± Interesting. He masks his local speech with outsiders to build rapport, but he slipped.


    ¡°Not just now, perhaps in a bit,¡± came the reply, to which Egon nodded


    ¡°Last orders for food at eight. Maeve has a lovely roast lamb tonight if you¡¯re interested.¡±


    Anticipating the gap in conversation, Whydah spoke for the first time


    ¡°Is that a stage down at the other end?¡± She turned her head and pointed over her left shoulder.


    ¡°What? Oh, yes, indeed it is, though we don¡¯t get many musicians here at The Barrel, as you can tell by the state of it. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve had any performers since last harvest when Elmer¡¯s lad and a couple of his friends got up and did their best on feast night.¡± The proprietor¡¯s head tilted in recognition. ¡°Why do you ask? Are you musicians?¡±


    ¡°Well, I am,¡± Whydah replied, ¡°He¡¯s the voice¡±. Only a hint of judgment that time, she was getting better.


    ¡°Ahh, well there you go, Mr. Bird, you get back a few points against the irony of your name as a singer!¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Bird sighed. ¡°It¡¯s more of a spoken word storytelling act, set to her music.¡±


    Egon chuckled again.


    ¡°So, your name is Singing Bird, but you¡¯re a cat¡­ who performs¡­ but doesn¡¯t sing. You are an ironic riddle indeed, sir!¡±


    ¡°I thank my parents every day, Mr. Barrel,¡± Bird smiled sarcastically.


    ¡°Were you two looking to perform tonight?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯ll allow us ¨C just busking for coins, of course.¡± Whydah forced an influencing and hopeful smile onto her lips, which Bird knew to be purely for show. She¡¯s getting better at that, too!


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not!¡± the barkeep chirped enthusiastically. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, and I¡¯ll bet the crowd would love it¡­something different!¡± Egon lifted his chin and spoke loudly past them, ¡°Gella, can you make room on the stage when you get a minute, please? We¡¯re going to have live music tonight!¡±


    The girl turned immediately, attuned to her father¡¯s voice through the din of the pub, and nodded before distributing steaming plates of lamb, potatoes, and gravy to a table of four.


    ¡°Maybe we will have some lamb before going on, if that¡¯s ok?¡±


    Now it was Whydah¡¯s turn to raise her eyebrows to him in an unspoken question. Giving her the slightest nod of reassurance, Bird retrieved one of the two remaining coins he had been rubbing together under his leathers and placed it on the bar. He felt optimistic about the evening¡¯s prospects in more ways than one.


    ¡°Of course, Mr. Bird!¡± Again, Egon lifted his head shouting to his daughter across the pub, ¡°Gella, two specials down here!¡±, his outstretched hand gesturing above their heads.


    Bird continued to watch him as the proprietor deftly turned his attention to two new customers approaching the bar, welcoming them in his universally optimistic tone. Entirely genuine. Over his shoulder, he heard Whydah.


    ¡°How about there?¡± turning back to see her pointing to a small table against the wall, halfway down the bar.


    ¡°Perfect¡±


    He got Egon¡¯s attention and wordlessly signaled their new seating destination in the universal pointing language of pubgoers everywhere. Answered with a confirming nod from the proprietor, the pair picked up their packs and horns, threading their way through the modest crowd to the vacant seats.


    They were indeed perfect. With their backs against the wall a few feet from the door and seated across from each other, their perch allowed for subtle observation of everyone in The Barrel.


    Far enough from the next table that quiet conversation wouldn¡¯t be overheard, and should they need to make a hasty exit, that wasn¡¯t far either. As an added benefit, Whydah¡¯s legs didn¡¯t dangle as obviously from the small benches. This will do nicely.

 10. The Thieves - The Give

    Their formula was well practiced. They rehearsed the act while traveling between destinations. He had taught her Thieves¡¯ Cant ¨C the subtle language of communicating in code favored by criminals throughout Venn.  Even the practical logistics of staying at a nearby, but different, establishment had been considered. You never shit where you eat!


    It was all planned to the finest detail. The sequence of activities had a prescribed order: perform first, accept what they give, then take what they don¡¯t, while probing for information somewhere in between.


    A twinge of guilt hit him as he thought about Whydah. She didn¡¯t love everything about this lifestyle. Given her choice, she¡¯d rather be more permanently settled somewhere, likely in one of the cities, attending Bard College instead of relying on pickpocketing fans. She loved the music and loved making it. He could tell she was most at peace when they were performing. But circumstances pushed them in this direction, for now at least.


    Brought back to the moment by her voice, Bird refocused on the room.


    ¡°A fair bit of darby among the pigeons here tonight. Green hat has the bourg front left, red beard on the right, six pm.¡±


    Her vocabulary is really coming along nicely. She¡¯d just told him she was already seeing several worthy targets. In particular, the man with the green hat had his coin purse in his front left jacket pocket while his red-bearded companion carried his on the right. They were both seated at the table directly behind him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make a rum bob out of you yet, my friend! Remember, no rust tonight; keep your eyes open for tin or yellow.¡±


    She flashed him her trademark ¡°Do I look like an idiot?¡± glance in response.


    ¡°I¡®m well aware¡­I thought you might have to try and pay for the lamb with buttons. I was ready!¡± She smirked, referencing her ability to cast an appropriate illusion.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be the first time!¡± he quipped.


    The two continued to debrief on the various marks and targets around the bar for the next few minutes before Bird got up and left the pub under the guise of relieving himself. His real purpose, however, was to scout the backside of the building. Always secure another way out¡­just in case. Closely facing the pub¡¯s rear wall and fully playing the part, he clocked the kitchen door already propped open to mitigate the heat. Short run from there to the woods. That¡¯ll do.


    He gave Whydah a barely perceptible nod as he returned to the table, communicating more with the deliberate blinking of his eyes than head movement. They were in good shape.


    Almost as if waiting for him to return, Gella bustled to their table in a flurry, two plates of food in tow. They watched her deftly and quickly maneuver her way from the kitchen, through the crowd, with practiced competence.


    ¡°Two specials?¡± she said breathlessly, settling next to their table.


    Whydah smiled and adjusted her posture to lean back in her chair, making room for the plate in front of her.


    ¡°That¡¯s us.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the musicians ¨C right?¡±


    ¡°Well, I am, he tells stories¡±. Totally judgment-free this time.


    Gella¡¯s head came up as she considered the response.


    ¡°Separately, or at the same time?¡±


    ¡°Same time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s different. So, the music and the story go together.¡± She turned to Bird, slightly puzzled. ¡°But you¡¯re not singing?¡±


    ¡°Nope¡±


    ¡°Sounds interesting. I haven¡¯t seen that before!¡± Gella smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bit of a break in the rush, so I¡¯m going to get you guys all set up now. Should be done by the time you¡¯ve finished your meal.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Whydah smiled. Gella gave a brief nod and navigated her return journey to the kitchen as deftly as she had come.


    Silence fell between the two travelers as they tucked into their meal, hungrier than they recognized and pleasantly surprised by the savory nature of the lamb. True to her word, Gella began shuffling extra chairs, empty barrels, and small sacks of dry goods to re-expose the stage floor at The Barrel¡¯s east end. Her activities drew a few curious looks from those who hadn¡¯t heard her father¡¯s earlier announcement. Their heads swiveled around to identify the source of her activity.


    Whydah lifted her head after gobbling the last of her potatoes to see Bird already reclining his posture and smoothing his whiskers, plate empty in front of him.


    ¡°Looks like we¡¯re almost up,¡± she said, nodding over Bird¡¯s left shoulder.


    He sighed ¡°As much as I would rather keep my ass right here on this bench, I suppose it¡¯s part of why we¡¯re here. Open with the origin story as usual?¡±


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    ¡°Works for me. I¡¯m thinking lute tonight, they look like a lute sort of crowd.¡± Thank Gond she didn¡¯t choose the pipes!


    Whydah was a master of multiple instruments, always carrying a lute, a harp, and a strange wind-powered device called the bagpipes. Unfamiliar to him, he found their sound to be harsh and their melody a bit stilted. Thankfully, they didn¡¯t come out very often. The lute was the perfect choice tonight. Her picking skills and ability to instantly adjust its volume (unlike those pipes!) always worked well with the build of his tales and the rise and fall of his acoustics.


    The audience had grown somewhat since their arrival. Bird estimated nearly thirty-five people at the tables or milling by the bar.  His heart began to beat faster, as it did before every performance. This was his true calling. He was often a thief, sometimes an assassin, but he was always a showman. There was nothing quite like the feeling of the crowd''s adoration, the applause, the laughter.


    With the smiling nod from Egon as he moved past them from the bar, they took their cue to follow. Downing the dregs of their ale and grabbing their packs, the pair fell in line behind him towards the now spacious stage area. Showtime!


    Whydah carefully freed her lute from its strap on the outside of her backpack, and Bird did a couple of vocal warm-up exercises as Egon took center stage and got the crowd¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Ladies and Gentlemen!¡± he repeated a couple of times in increasing volume to bring all eyes to him. ¡°We have a very special treat for you tonight ¨C troubadours ¨C and professional ones at that!¡± A mild murmur and sporadic applause rose from the now attentive crowd.


    ¡°Please give them a big Barrel welcome,¡± and Egon himself started the applause that was mimicked by several patrons. An easy room. Wonderful.


    Egon stepped aside as Bird took center stage, his feline grin in full form, energy up, motions exaggerated.


    ¡°Let¡¯s give it up for our gracious host ¨C Mr. Barrel and the finest server this side of the Glimmerstones ¨C Gella!¡± Bird returned the favor of starting the applause, and the crowd responded directly. Get them to applaud their friends first. It makes the transition easier.


    ¡°My name is Bird, and my diminutive soloist is called Whydah.¡± He made a flourishing gesture to his partner, who had now taken up a seated position to his left, lute in hand.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let her size fool you, though, she can shred that lute like an ogre on a pony!¡± A few chuckles, not bad.


    ¡°I see the confusion on some of your faces. Yes, I am a tabby,¡± Bird exaggeratedly stroked his whiskers. ¡°And yes, you heard me correctly, my name is Bird. Singing Bird, in fact. In my culture, we use only the second name in a familiar greeting, so please, call me Bird. Only my mother calls me Singing Bird¡­usually when she¡¯s unhappy with me.¡± A few chuckles.


    ¡°Despite the foreshadowing of my name, I am not going to sing for you tonight.¡± Hold the pause for suspense. ¡°What we do would be better described as storytelling done to music. Hopefully, you will find it both amusing and entertaining, and if you do, we would greatly appreciate any generosity you feel appropriate!¡±


    He expertly spun an old felt hat he had been holding into the air, landing it three feet in front of him on the edge of the stage area.


    On cue, Whydah began to lazily pick a five-note melody on the lute in repetition, tapping the instrument¡¯s body in between to establish a slow beat in accompaniment to the music.


    Oh yeah! There¡¯s the juice!


    Bird immediately felt the familiar rush of the magic that accompanied her music when she so chose. His confidence, already high, swelled euphorically. His head cleared, and his focus sharpened. It was something he had experienced many times in a fight, a delicate negotiation, or, like today, when delivering a performance. It always took him to another level.


    ¡°Now, with the introductions out of the way, let me tell you a bit about how a dashing, young Tabby like myself came to be performing for pub coins in the Kingdom of Shan. Believe it or not, performing arts were not my first calling...¡±


    He paused dramatically, letting the melody repeat before resuming.


    ¡°.. I used to be a bit of a burglar and a pretty good one at that, until one job where I was asked to steal a horn that was rumored to have magical properties¡­ of a phallic nature¡­ if you know what I mean!¡±


    Matching his tempo to Whydah¡¯s wandering lute, Bird made an exaggerated gesture just below his waist and received a few salacious interjections from the crowd. They¡¯re taking the bait.


    ¡°This particular horn happened to be owned by a truly reprehensible human being we¡¯ll call... Lord Snobble Pompington.¡±


    Several more chuckles. Nothing galvanizes a working-class audience faster than an entitled, rich antagonist. I¡¯ve almost got them.


    ¡°Wealthy? Absolutely. Powerful¡­unquestionably. You see, Pompington senior- his father - just happened to be one of the political elder statesmen of my fair city. A real servant of the people. Junior, however, contributed absolutely nothing to society and spent evenings drinking and carousing, courting any creature with a pulse and the appropriate¡­equipment.¡± The tabby raised his cupped hands to his chest, simulating the presence of breasts. More laughter. They¡¯re mine now.


    ¡°He used his stature as a tool of coercion and a means of avoiding the consequences of his words and actions. Needless to say, he left a wake of bitter and resentful, if sexually satisfied, females littered across the city¡¯s noble community.¡±


    I¡¯m really cooking tonight! His verbal articulation was flawless. His timing with the melody was impeccable. With her spell enhancing his delivery, the local rabble didn¡¯t stand a chance.


    ¡°And that¡¯s where I come in¡­.¡±


    For the next twenty minutes, the feline troubadour expertly spun his yarn as Whydah deftly adjusted her melody in volume, composition, and cadence. Perfect balance.  As he built the suspense leading up to the burglary, her picking danced in a soft, speedy compliment. The crowd hung on the edge of their seats.


    As he reached the climax of being unable to resist blowing the magical horn and being stunned by the awkward ¡®growing¡¯ outcome its magic produced, she slid a hammer note up the neck that mimicked the described effect. They¡¯re eating it up!


    By the time he described the opposite effect simultaneously befalling poor Snobble (mid-tryst, no less!), they were falling off their chairs with laughter. They¡¯re ours now.


    The tale finished where it began, with the same lazy melody. Time to bring it home with the sympathy play.


    ¡°¡­and that is why I fled my home for these fair shores and began life anew as a humble performer.¡±


    His head bowed in resignation as he let the last few words tumble from his lips. Whydah struck her final note in perfect timing.


    The crowd roared in appreciation. Without lifting his head from the dramatic finish, Bird felt a strong sense of accomplishment, and involuntarily, his lips spread into a cat-like grin. He could see and hear coins being added to the hat on the floor. Tonight¡¯s ¡°Give¡± would be strong.


    It remained to be seen how bountiful the ¡®Take¡± portion of their formula would be.

 11. The Thieves - The Take

    The pair regaled their audience through two more performances. One humorous, centered on an annual festival competition in Gola-Didrith involving some recalcitrant dire goats. The second was more suspenseful and involved stealing a painting from the highly secure tower of a local wizard.


    There''s a funny thing about stage performance. It always makes them trust me far more than they should.


    Maybe it had something to do with showing his vulnerability, laid bare through the stories, or maybe it was the shared laughs. But when he was done, the audience felt like they knew him. Even better, they trusted him and treated him like a friend, whereas before the show, he was just a feline face in the crowd. Whydah experienced the same, even though she wasn¡¯t as front and center during the delivery. They had discussed it, back in the earliest days of their travels.


    Time to exploit it.


    As Bird wrapped up their third tale, he cast out their usual request for information.


    ¡°Thank you! Thank you!¡± He bowed his head in appreciation.


    ¡°A big part of our material starts with tales of local curiosity, rumors, myth, and legends that we learn from folks like yourselves on evenings like this.¡± He cast his arms wide. ¡°We look into them, and sometimes, there is a story for the world to hear. So, this is your chance to become part of the show.¡± He gestured towards his musical companion. ¡°Whydah and I will be sticking around for a drink or two and would love to hear about anything peculiar or interesting going on in the area. Even if you don¡¯t have all the details, we¡¯d love to hear about it!¡± The cat bowed deeply. ¡°And once again, thank you for your generosity!¡±


    With that, he gave a final flourish and retreated. The audience cheered enthusiastically, some rising to their feet. Bird stepped to Whydah, the post-performance rush of euphoria racing through his veins. Beaming to the crowd, they raised their arms together in a final curtain call and began to pack up.


    Buffered by a few feet of separation, the applause, and animated post-performance discussion, this was their opportunity to make a quick plan. What the crowd hadn¡¯t noticed, and never did, was the deliberate reconnaissance that was taking place on the part of the performers while they were entertaining.


    Time to pluck the chickens!


    While their attention was focused on him, Whydah had all the time in the world to observe every patron. She noticed where they kept their coin purses, how full or empty they were, who drank heavily, who watched their surroundings, and who was less concerned. This is how they set up ¡°The Take¡±. Through the intelligence gathering before and during the performance, the pair would identify five or six specific marks that fit the bill and go to work.


    They never targeted too many or took too much. Always leave some doubt in the mind of the victim and the establishment about the occurrence of any robbery. That kept them below the attention threshold of local law enforcement.


    He smiled at her. ¡°Fantastic show tonight, as always! Did you put a little something extra in your spell? I felt it, more than usual.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m getting better at the casting¡±. She returned the smile.


    ¡°So, what did you see?¡±


    ¡°Green hat and red beard are both still definite candidates. Fat purses- fairly accessible - and moderate drinkers. Both have swords, though, so we¡¯ll need to be a bit careful.¡±


    Bird nodded. ¡°I saw that. Well, we can¡¯t hit both, too obvious. Which one do you like better?¡±


    ¡°Red beard, I think. And I¡¯d like to grab it. He¡¯s quite tall, and I think I can get it with the right jostle.¡±


    So proud of her.


    He nodded again and grinned.


    ¡°Look at you ¨C going for your first pull! Okay. I¡¯ll engage the two of them in another story over a drink. Look for my cue, and I¡¯ll give you the jostle you need.¡± He scanned the room. ¡°Who else? How about overalls or blond braids?¡±


    Whydah shook her head.


    ¡°Braids has a pouch that is part of her dress in the middle, at her waist. It¡¯s tough to get to, and she isn¡¯t carrying much. I haven¡¯t seen overalls pay for a single drink all night.¡± Her eyes narrowed as her gaze shifted to the far side of the room. ¡°But that elf...¡± She trailed off.


    ¡°I was wondering if you noticed him. Definitely not local ¨C too well-dressed. Belt purse left side.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I saw him digging around in there looking for the right color to pay Gella, always a good sign¡±.


    Was that a twinkle in her eye?


    ¡°And did you catch the blacksmith? Keeps his scratch in the side pocket of his apron. How many coins left, you think?¡±


    ¡°I saw at least two, one tin, one yellow. He pulled them all out when paying for his last drink. Guessing he didn¡¯t want to give her the yellow accidentally.¡±


    That was all they had time for, but it was enough. With the packing complete, the two travelers left the stage area, making their way to the bar while several audience members converged to intercept them.


    This is exactly what we want. Chaotic. Bodies pressed into tighter spaces than normal, nonsuspicious contact, and shifting of positions. The Tabby purred quietly to himself.


    Blacksmith was first. After shaking his hand and showing appreciation for his remarks, Bird deftly slid his fingers into the apron pocket as he moved past the man to greet the next well-wisher. Sure enough, Whydah was right ¨C two coins. Well-practiced in differentiating denominations by touching the surfaces, Bird made his choice and removed his prize in one smooth motion. Child¡¯s play.


    Meanwhile, Whydah gathered up the hat from the floor and emptied it. A glance revealed at least twenty coppers and four silvers. Not bad at all for a crowd this size. Turning her back to the room, she shoved the hat into her pack and put the coins into the purse she carried around her neck. Not the most accessible, but secure.


    As she turned to follow Bird towards the bar, she was cut off by a dwarven man who had been watching her intently all night. Suitor or fellow musician? It was usually one or the other.


    ¡°Sharp work up there, Lassie!¡± Speaking in a heavy dwarven accent, he offered his hand.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She smiled and accepted the handshake. Careful; just because he¡¯s a musician doesn¡¯t mean he isn¡¯t a creep.


    The calloused fingertips of his right hand pressed into hers as they shook. Interesting. A lefty. Rare among lutists.


    ¡°I love the sound you got working the neck. What were you using on your index finger?¡±


    Reaching around behind her into the pocket of her pack, Whydah pulled out the neck of a whiskey bottle she had broken off and sanded down to avoid injury.


    ¡°Oh, you mean this ¨C my slide?¡±


    ¡°From a whiskey bottle. That¡¯s brilliant! How does it work?¡±


    Always appreciative of positive feedback for her play, Whydah illustrated how she used the slide and transposed the frets she needed to play above it with her remaining fingers. Instinctively, she noticed the dwarf¡¯s reasonably plump coin purse on his left hip. As he still looked a little puzzled, she seized the opportunity.


    ¡°Here, let me show you.¡± She quickly dropped her pack and freed the lute, handing him the slide. The dwarf squeezed his fatter left index finger into the glass tube and accepted the instrument. ¡°Now, this is strung backward for a lefty, but you get the idea.¡± Stepping behind her mark, Whydah used her left hand to guide his fingers into place. The dwarf bridged all the strings with the slide, placing his other fingers in front. He didn¡¯t notice her using her right hand to delicately fish into his coin purse and relieve him of three silvers. Gotcha!


    ¡°Aye, I get it now - brill! Thanks for that. I¡¯ve got to make me one of those.¡±


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    She took back the lute and turned away, reattached it to her pack while simultaneously sliding her silver spoils safely into the side pocket. With some effort, the dwarf managed to get the slide off his sausage finger and offered it back to her.


    ¡°You know what¡­keep it. That one¡¯s a little too big for me. Consider it a gift.¡±


    The dwarf beamed in appreciation, thanked her, and shook her hand again before making his exit.


    Most expensive piece of broken glass he¡¯ll ever buy.


    Feeling rather proud of herself for making her first pull (as Bird called it) all on her own, Whydah picked up her pack and proceeded towards Tabby¡¯s fuzzy black head bobbing above the crowd by the bar.


    For his part, the cat had already plucked his second pigeon of the evening, having secured the entire coin purse from the previously identified elf. He reflected on how he¡¯d slid one claw between purse and belt and severed the silk, liberating the currency and its vessel into his gentle grasp before tucking it safely under his jerkin. Retractable claws do make things so much easier. He stood at the bar with the evening¡¯s main targets ¨C Green Hat and Red Beard ¨C whose names he recently learned were Aarol and Vern (or was it the other way around?). Regardless, he was regaling them with a detailed account of the time they had been plucked out of thin air by a gnomish inventor mage to deal with an ice dragon terrorizing the local community. He shivered involuntarily, recalling the bodies of other local champions entombed beneath the ice inside the dragon¡¯s lair. His audience, however, including a few passives content to observe from the periphery, ate it up.


    They hung on every word, which was exactly the objective, as he set the stage for his halfling protege to make her bump and grab. Where was she? His annoyance bubbled up. How long could it take to pack a lute and cross the floor? The timing for this was critical. He drew out the detail to stall.


    As it happened, the cause of Whydah¡¯s delay was at least worthwhile. Making her way towards Bird¡¯s position, she was cut off by a sheepish, middle-aged human. He repetitively made brief eye contact before returning to look at the floor, hands nervously clasped at his waist. Not a threat.  Nonetheless, he stood directly between the halfling and her desired destination.


    ¡°Miss Whydah?¡±


    ¡°Yes, hi!¡±


    ¡°Your friend, the cat, he said you were interested in hearing about anything out of the ordinary¡­¡± his voice trailed off. The way he pronounced the word ¡®ordinary¡¯ told Whydah he was uneducated, and his clothes were the shabby garb of a lifelong farmer.


    ¡°Oh yes! We are very interested in anything like that, especially if it involves magic or strange creatures¡­mister¡­?¡± His eyes rose to meet hers, and his gaze softened into a slight smile as she validated the reason for his intrusion.


    ¡°Garn. Ned Garn. Now this is somewhat second-hand, mind, but one of my waggoners was telling me just this morning about the Luminarium abbey¡±


    Her brain tingled in unexpected recognition. An old adventuring partner had opted to settle down at the Luminarium a year or so back.


    ¡°What about it? What happened?¡± Her tone shifted to genuine concern.


    ¡°Now, he didn¡¯t know what happened, mind, but he said the abbey was razed to the ground, still burning. He saw it from Shand Road on his way back from Godobeth. He planned to stop there but thought better of it after seeing the smoke. Camped rough by the riverside instead.¡±


    Oh Shit! Tsuta!


    Over the next few minutes, Whydah learned they were a days'' ride from the Abbey and that the detail was one day old. Can¡¯t think about this right now. Stay on task. She thanked the farmer and resumed her journey towards the outbursts of laughter and amazement over by the bar that would undoubtedly have Bird at their center.


    The tabby felt a sense of relief as he spied her pushing her way through the crowd towards him. Finally! He was nearing the trigger point of the story and couldn¡¯t stretch it out much longer. Catching her eye, he raised his right brow, telling her to get ready. She¡¯s as white as a ghost. Can¡¯t worry about that right now; the wheels are in motion. He was at the point of the story where they subdued the dragon with a magic ball of iron bands. It¡¯s now or never. Come on, girl, get yourself together.


    Whydah knew the tale well and quietly took up position unnoticed behind Red Beard, her pack at her feet. As Bird described throwing the magic ball at the dragon, its iron bands exploding in a burst of light and lashing the creature in place, he leaned forward and grabbed Red Beard by the shoulders for emphasis.


    Shifting his weight to lean slightly on his target, the move surprised the human, and he took a half-step back to steady himself ¨C stumbling right into Whydah. This was ¡°the bump¡±. With the impact, she made her move.


    Feigning a backward fall, she grabbed the man¡¯s coat in her left hand, sliding her right into the pocket holding his coin purse. Once secured, she withdrew it and allowed her left hand to slide down his back as she ¡°fell¡± to the floor. Taking care to roll onto her stomach, shielding his line of sight, Whydah tucked the purse into the open pocket of her pack.


    Surprised by the contact, Red Beard instinctively turned, realizing he had knocked the halfling over. Immediately, he began to apologize and helped her up, oblivious to the departure of the purse.


    ¡°It¡¯s OK,¡± she said. ¡°For someone my size, it happens more often than you think. No harm done. Clearly, I arrived at the wrong moment!¡±


    Bird jumped in effortlessly.


    ¡°No, no, that¡¯s entirely my fault. It was my dramatic flair that started the sequence. I¡¯m sorry, Whydah, let me get you a horn to make it up to you.¡± Bird nodded towards the nearly empty cups of his two new friends.


    ¡°It looks like you gentlemen could use one as well.¡±


    This, too, was by design. He didn¡¯t want Red Beard to reach for his now-absent coins before the two thieves were long gone from The Barrel. The tabby signaled to Egon for four more horns of ale and fished the silver he¡¯d just lifted from the blacksmith out of his jerkin pocket as payment.


    Deliberately outpacing the two humans, the troubadours made small talk until they finished their drinks and said their goodbyes, blaming an early departure.


    ¡°We won¡¯t be far behind you; we¡¯ve got a long ride ahead of us on the morrow as well,¡± offered Green Hat (Aarol?).


    Even better. They may not notice until morning.


    Thanking Egon and Gella again, the performers bid goodbye to the crowd and made their way out into the night, down the road to the White Horse Inn.


    ¡°Well done!¡± bird beamed at Whydah. ¡°That was perfect!¡±


    ¡°Not quite. I have to work on the landing a bit.¡± Whydah grimaced. ¡°I landed right on my hip bone. Hurts like the shadow realm with every step¡±. Bird chuckled.


    ¡°Not funny,¡± she snapped back as the two thieves limped into the White Horse and up the stairs to their rooms. ¡°Let me drop my gear. I¡¯ll be over in a minute to count the haul.¡±


    This was a practical ritual following every performance. The pair pooled all the funds, both given and taken, dividing the proceeds equally.


    Closing the door behind her, Whydah dropped her pack on the bed and winced before plopping herself down beside it, rubbing her right hip. That will be a nasty bruise tomorrow.


    The accommodation was simple: a bed and a small chest of drawers topped by a wash basin with a fresh urn of water. An uncomfortable chair rounded out the furnishings.


    Fishing through the multitude of pockets on her pack, the halfling gathered all her contributions to the evening¡¯s proceeds: the given funds from the performance hat, the 3 slivers that came courtesy of the dwarf, and, finally, Red Beard¡¯s purse. This is unusual. She didn¡¯t notice it originally, but the purse contained something more than coins. Her fingers traced multiple points and sharp edges through the velvet cloth. What have we here? She undid the cinch and extracted a silver necklace and pendant. She held it up to get a closer look. Hello, my beauty!


    There was no forged clasp. Instead, the chain threaded through the topmost of three elegant woven circles stacked in a triangle at the pendant¡¯s apex. Expertly joined with an inverted crown, the silver setting capped an exquisite shimmering crystal. No longer than her ring finger and slightly thicker in girth, the crystal had six sides, ending in a tapered point. Partially translucent, its milky depth boasted a reflective property, returning flashes of deep blue, yellow, and green as she turned it in examination. Each colorful fleck was mesmerizing, appearing to float and shift within the crystalline structure as they refracted the surrounding light.  I¡¯ve never seen anything like you before¡­


    Whydah made up her mind instantly. Call it a memento to commemorate her first success as a rum bob. I¡¯m entitled to it. We don¡¯t need to sell it. The haul was good enough for us to live well for days. Without further internal justification, she slipped the chain around her neck and tucked the pendant under her tunic. Gathering up the rest of the evening¡¯s holdings, she pushed herself up off the bed, reminded immediately of the twinge in her hip, and limped across the hall to Bird¡¯s room.


    Two quick knocks preceded a muffled confirmation from within. Opening the door, she took in a room identical to her own.  Bird was hunched over his portion of the evening¡¯s proceeds on the bed, a wide feline grin on his face.


    ¡°Not a bad take at all! I got one gold off the blacksmith, and that elf had two more, along with four silvers and three coppers in his purse! How did you do?¡±


    Whydah dropped onto the bed and added her acquisitions to the collection.


    ¡°Three silvers from a dwarf that cornered me as I was leaving the stage ¨C wanted to talk about lute playing.¡± She shot him a grin. ¡°It was an expensive conversation for him.¡± Bird nodded slowly, his lower lip slightly protruding in acknowledgment. As she poured the given coins into the pile, he quickly added them up.


    ¡°Four silver and twenty-two coppers, not bad at all. And how about Red Beard? Are you saving the best for last?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t even looked yet¡±. She tossed the purse, which he deftly caught and dumped into the pile. Four gold coins, one silver, and a single copper spilled out to join the collection.


    ¡°Four gold ¨C wow! That¡¯s a lot to carry in a small town like this.¡± The cat¡¯s fingers were busy shifting the coins into two equal amounts.


    ¡°Okay, that gives us six silvers, thirteen coppers, and two gold each, with one extra gold. What should we do about that?¡±


    ¡°You hold onto it,¡± Whydah said, feeling a slight warmth rise to her cheeks as shame and guilt from the undeclared necklace and pendant blossomed inside her. ¡°I trust you.  I¡¯ll take the next one that comes out uneven.¡± Bird met her gaze and, after a moment¡¯s pause, agreed with a nod.


    ¡°You really took your time getting to us at the bar. I felt like I was spinning that yarn forever, waiting for you to get into position!¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right. I almost forgot!¡± Whydah blurted, ¡°I had another pigeon stop me on my way over to share some information.¡±


    ¡°Anything good?¡± Bird said idly as he focused on gathering his share of the coins and dividing them among his coin purse and multiple pockets within his pack. Never keep all your money in one place.


    ¡°He told me about an abbey razed to the ground not far from here. It was called the Luminarium.¡±


    Bird¡¯s head snapped up at the mention of the name. His coin sorting stopped abruptly, his focus now entirely on Whydah.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that where Tsuta went after we parted ways down south?¡±


    ¡°I thought that was the name he mentioned, yes.¡±


    ¡°How long ago did this happen?¡±


    ¡°Yesterday, so he said.¡±


    ¡°Okay, and more than a day¡¯s ride? We will be a bit late to the party, but we have to go. He¡¯s a solid elf, always there for us in tight spots. What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± she nodded. ¡°If we can help, we should.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s settled. We¡¯ll ride at first light. Do you know how to get there?¡±


    ¡°Straight up the Sshanderiusha road that follows the river.¡±


    Bird dropped his gaze and nodded. She knew him well enough to recognize that he was internally processing concern for their friend. She gathered up her share of the coins as he slowly returned to dividing his own into various locations. They said goodnight, and Whydah returned to her room and, hopefully, some decent rest.

 12. The Ranger - Eyes Wide Open

    The eastern foothills of the Glimmerstone mountains, particularly those south of the Luminarium, offer some of the most unique agricultural conditions in all of Venn. The warm prevailing winds from the east and imposing mountain backdrops combine to create a microclimate of warm summers and mild and wet winters. Settled by the elves hundreds of years ago, they found grapes had a natural affinity to the area¡¯s loamy soil. Over time, the region became the continental hub for one of Elvenkind¡¯s most universally admired products ¨C wine.


    Terraced vineyards dominate over thirty miles of the landscape between Chagrothlond and the Luminarium, providing the only visual hint of civilization between the rugged peaks and the dense forests below. Renowned across the continent and beyond by those who can afford it, the wines of Eredmire, as the area is known both within the wider Elvish community and enological circles, are regarded as somewhat of a national treasure.


    Respect for the region and its elvish heritage was so great that during the establishment of national boundaries between the Kingdom of Shan and the Elvish Commonwealth of Glahaneth, Eredmire was granted the rare recognition of extra-territoriality.  Though surrounded by the human kingdom of Shan, it was acknowledged as a province of Glahaneth. In hindsight, this created several challenges to governance and security despite the longstanding positive relations between elves and men.


    Eredmire paid tallage to Gola-Didreth rather than Buhlent, but over three hundred miles and significant diplomatic wrangling separated it from the full force of the Elvish military. The council of Eredmire, as a result, had always enjoyed a high degree of autonomy in economic and military matters. Shan wouldn¡¯t help them, and Glahaneth couldn¡¯t ¨C at least not quickly.


    Arguably the most famous among the vineyards of Eredmire was House Eldracum.  As the region¡¯s largest producer, its patriarch - Fenir Eldracum - was a council elder and well-respected in the community. A non-compromising, stubborn wood elf, Fenir¡¯s business acumen was undeniable. During his considerable tenure at the helm, House Eldracum rose from one of many within the Eredmire wine cooperative to the pinnacle of quality and brand recognition across the continent. The barrel mark of ¡®EE¡¯ ¨C Eldracum of Eredmire - became a symbol of exclusivity and prestige at the finest tables and events, and the family¡¯s influence and fortunes rose accordingly. Fenir had always hoped to pass the empire down as his legacy, but as they often do, his children had other plans.


    His daughter Gilieth found her passion in politics and abandoned the family business for a promising diplomatic career in Gola-Didreth. His son, Segwyn, showed great promise and natural ability for vinification and commercialization but walked away from the industry two years ago, choosing instead to put on the hood of the ranger within the provincial militia ¨C The Verdant Blades. As good as any Elvish military with sword and bow, the Blades favored field-level decision-making over the strict command and control culture of Glahaneth. This philosophy provided squad leaders like Segwyn with considerable latitude in protecting the interests, land, and citizens of Eredmire.


    He and the eight under his command were patrolling the eastern foothills of the Glimmerstones when the Luminarium¡¯s blue beacon flare belched skyward, rising in the afternoon sun.


    He signaled the team to regroup.


    ¡°What do you think? Do we head North?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡± Segwyn paused. ¡°Our duty is to the lands of Eredmire, which don¡¯t go all the way to the Luminarium. Let¡¯s head to the top of the ridge where we can get eyes in both directions and see if this is something bigger.¡±


    As quietly as smoke drifting through the forest, the squadron of Blades changed course to the highest nearby ridge. The elves spread themselves along the crest, watched, and waited. An hour passed, and the shadows of the Glimmerstones overtook their position, driving the remaining daylight farther west. No additional flares broke the skyline from Chagrothlond to as far north as they could see.


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    Segwyn focused his mind on his surroundings and released his magic, probing for any presence of inherent evil in the area. The familiarity of the terrain offered him a several-mile radius of detection. Nothing.


    ¡°Anyone got a visual? Magic isn¡¯t picking up anything.¡± He spoke to no one in particular.


    A chorus of negative replies echoed along the ridgeline as he weighed the options.


    While there were some creatures he couldn¡¯t sense, the magic covered most major threats: dragons, demons, the undead, elementals, fey, devils, celestials, and aberrations. The monks at the beacons had no such limitations. Only one flare; it could have been anything. Maybe it went north, or they took care of it themselves.


    ¡°Only one ribbon doesn¡¯t mean it isn¡¯t something nasty. I would put us about fifteen miles from the border closest to the monastery. Let¡¯s camp here and press north at first light. If we get within a couple miles of the Shand, I should be able to detect anything coming from that direction beyond our borders.¡±


    More than comfortable in their wooded surroundings, the squad shared watch duties overnight, switching up every couple of hours. Segwyn took the first shift, allowing him to cast the spell once more before he settled down to meditate and recharge. Still nothing.


    As his focus returned to the camp, he noticed his watch partner, a young elf named Neril, had joined him by the fire.


    ¡°All quiet?¡± He asked


    ¡°Yep, nothing moving out there. What do you think it was¡­that made them trigger the beacon?¡±


    Segwyn shrugged, raising his eyebrows.


    ¡°Hard to say. It could have been anything.¡± Reading the apprehension in Neril¡¯s body language, he probed. ¡°You nervous?¡±


    ¡°A bit,¡± Neril admitted, staring into the embers. ¡°This would be my first combat since joining the Blades.¡±  The ranger sized up the younger man for several seconds, letting his words hang in the quiet night air.


    ¡°Why are you here, Neril?¡±


    The recruit looked up, stammering slightly.


    ¡°To...to protect Eredmire,¡± he replied, lifting his gaze to meet the eyes of his squad leader.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s different.¡± Segwyn shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s our job¡­our duty. What I mean is, why did you decide to join the Blades?¡±


    The young elf paused, pursing his lips.


    ¡°I dunno. Never really thought about it.¡± He gazed off to the right, reflecting for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ve always been good with the bow, and it seemed like decent pay for pretty easy work, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°The pay is good because the work is easy¡­until it isn¡¯t. I suspect that¡¯s what has you a little twitchy right now.¡± Neril opened his mouth as if to object, but Segwyn raised his hand, slightly lowering his head to forestall the coming objection. ¡°When things get hairy out here, the rest of the squad is all that stands between any one of us and an unplanned journey to Avandor. Your life is in their hands, and vice versa. Deep down, we all know it.¡± Neril bowed his head as the ranger continued. ¡°In those moments when the stakes are the highest, we have to trust in each other completely. What I¡¯ll bet you¡¯re asking yourself right now is - Can I really trust these elves with my life? Or was it a big mistake joining the Blades?¡±


    The ranger paused as the recruit shifted his gaze back to the fire¡¯s glowing embers and gave an almost imperceptible nod.


    ¡°Now, I can¡¯t answer that for you, but¡­I would argue that in this moment - right here, right now - you have no choice unless you intend to desert your duty, your family, and your community. When we get through this, let me know what you decide, and if being a member of the Verdant Blades isn¡¯t for you, I¡¯ll sign off on the transfer. But until then¡­¡± He gestured towards the squad tents across the fire. ¡°¡­ they need you¡­ I need you¡­ Eredmire needs you.¡±


    Neril raised his gaze to lock eyes with his squad leader and confidently stuck out his arm. Segwyn returned the gesture, grabbing the other elf¡¯s forearm in the customary greeting of the Blades.


    ¡°Thanks. That helps a lot.¡±


    Segwyn gave him a down nod as the recruit furrowed his brow. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± The ranger nodded again in response. ¡°Why are you here? You¡¯re the heir to the most successful estate in Eredmire. Why choose this life when that¡¯s on offer?¡±


    He grunted in response, and it was the squad leader¡¯s turn to gaze into the embers.


    ¡°Out here¡­¡± He paused, choosing his words carefully. ¡°Your successes and failures are inescapably your own ¨C good or bad. In that world, I was never sure if my success was down to the size of my own shadow or simply the extension of my father¡¯s.¡± He returned his gaze to meet Neril¡¯s. ¡°I want to author my legacy rather than be a footnote to his.¡±


    To their right, the crack of a large branch punctured the stillness. Both elves leaped to their feet, and the ring of drawn swords responded.

 13. The Ranger - Unexpected Adversaries

    ¡°Whoa! Whoa! Take it easy! I¡¯m just coming to relieve you!¡±


    ¡°Gonddammit, Halisk!¡± Segwyn shook his head, returning his sword to its scabbard. ¡°You surprised us.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t expect I could sneak up on two wood elves, especially on guard duty!¡± She giggled, her grinning smile betraying a sense of self-satisfaction. ¡°Must have been a deep conversation! Why don¡¯t you two get some rest? Darmor and I will take over. Magic still coming up empty?¡±


    The ranger rubbed his fingers across his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°Thanks. I didn¡¯t realize it was this late. I¡¯m still not sensing anything around us, so hopefully, you¡¯ll have a quiet stretch.¡± He patted her on the shoulder as he stepped over the low fire. Neril gave her a small grin and a nod of appreciation as they ambled towards the modest tents that did little more than staunch the wind and precipitation.


    ¡°That¡¯s how I like it!¡± Halisk called after them before stoking the fire and settling in for her tour of duty.


    The surrounding woods had just begun to surrender monochrome shapes from the retreating shroud of night, threatening the coming dawn as the Blades began wordlessly packing up camp. Segwyn cast his spell once more, seeking any nearby evil, and once more sensed nothing. Looking to the expectant team, he shook his head.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go in a wide skirmish line with bows. Stay within line of sight. I¡¯ll take the middle. We¡¯ll head due north for two hours, and I¡¯ll try it again. Standard signal if you spot anything hinky, and we all quietly converge before engaging. Understood?¡±


    They all nodded in confirmation and quickly spread out, moving north towards the border of Eredmire and the Sshanderiusha River.


    Two hours and six miles later, Segwyn called a halt before releasing his magic into the new surroundings to the same result. He pressed the team onward until the midday sun forced the forest shadows to their shortest position. Raising his hand, palm open, the Blades held position once again. They had reached the northern edge of Eredmire territory, less than a mile from the headwaters of the Shand and five miles from the Luminarium itself. Drawing a deep breath, the ranger closed his eyes and pushed the spell out from his center in all directions. And there it was. His chest tightened. There was no mistaking the incantation¡¯s result.


    His eyes snapped open, head swiveling to scan the surroundings. Nothing visible.  He flipped his shoulder-length brown hair out of his face and let out a series of chirps and whistles that mimicked the call of the house wren. This was the signal to converge. Not native to the foothills and mountains, the wren was the perfect choice. There was no danger of miscommunication from local fauna, yet it sounded perfectly natural to anyone or anything that didn¡¯t know better.


    Within moments, the Blades assembled at his position, bows at the ready. He made a gathering motion with his arms, calling them in close and crouching down, his leathers creaking in objection. As the elves arrived and joined the huddle, he locked eyes with each one as he spoke to reinforce the gravity of the difficult message and assess their reaction.


    ¡°I just cast the detection spell again, and I got a hit¡­Demon.¡± Several members of the team involuntarily recoiled slightly before catching themselves.


    ¡°As in ¡®from the lower planes of Hell¡¯ Demon?¡± Halisk quipped in a hostile whisper. Her sparkling blue eyes were wide in surprise. ¡°Here? In the Eredmire woods? How is that even possible?¡±


    ¡°I dunno. You all know how the spell works. I can¡¯t tell what type, how many, or where exactly it, or they, happen to be, but there is unquestionably at least one demon within a few miles of our current position.¡± The ranger continued to shift his gaze from one member to the next. ¡°Here¡¯s what I do know: the presence of demons is more than enough justification for us to pursue outside the boundary if necessary. We will track it down and send it back to the lower planes if we can, and then we¡¯ll figure out how it got here.¡± Several murmurs of quiet assent rose from the group as his attention turned to Neril. Panic haunted the recruit¡¯s features as his eyes rapidly flitted across the landscape seeking threat or escape.


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    ¡°What if it¡¯s too strong for us, or if there are too many of them? What do we do then? It will take a month for the Commonwealth armies to get here!¡± he blurted. Segwyn extended his hand, palm facing down, and lowered it slowly, signaling his newest team member to calm down and lower his volume before gripping the younger elf¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°First, we find it, assess the scope of the threat, and take it from there ¨C Okay? No one engages alone ¨C Do you hear me?¡± He raised his eyebrows and looked around the huddle, not moving on until he got a nod of affirmation from each one. ¡°If it looks like more than we can handle, we¡¯ll get word back to Eredmire for additional support and follow discretely until help arrives. Understood?¡± More nods.


    ¡°Are we stringing blues or blacks?¡± Darmor spoke for the first time.


    ¡°Three of us on Blues, you, Halisk, and I, but wait for my mark. The rest - whites on the string until we see what we¡¯re dealing with.¡±


    Blues and blacks referred to the magical arrows the Blades had within their quivers. Created by the wizards of Eredmire, each squad member was issued one arrow with blue fletching and one with black. These contrasted with their standard-issue, white feathered arrows. The blue delivered an additional punch of arcane force damage, while the black conjured a volley of forty magical projectiles that rained down on the target. Both were only to be used in extreme circumstances as the cost and time of the enchantments limited supply.


    ¡°I doubt it¡¯s to the west of us.¡± He continued, ¡°The terrain is pretty difficult in the mountains. If it came through one of the passes up by the Luminarium, I bet it¡¯s headed for civilization in the lowlands, likely following the river or the road. Let¡¯s run our line north-south perpendicular to the Shand.¡± He made a crude drawing on the ground among them to illustrate. ¡°And we¡¯ll follow it for a couple hours before I try the magic again. Darmor, take the northern end of the line and keep the river in sight. Neril - south end. I¡¯ll take middle again.¡±


    He paused momentarily, sensing the heightened tension among the group, then added, ¡°Let¡¯s not forget why we¡¯re here. I realize no one signed up expecting to battle demons, but there are an awful lot of elves counting on us to keep them safe. I have complete confidence in this group¡¯s ability to mitigate the threat. Rely on your training. Rely on each other.¡± He paused once more. ¡°Once we engage, I want full communication. Most demons don¡¯t speak Common, so we won¡¯t be giving anything away. Until then, only hand signals and wren calls. Any questions?¡± Heads shook around the huddle. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s move out!¡±


    The team rose and quickly spread themselves into a line perpendicular to the river and road on their left. Segwyn raised his open hand in the air, let out a deep breath hoping to calm his nerves, and then closed his fist. As one, they began to pick their way silently southwards.


    Fenir Eldracum had been adamant about the importance of education for all his children. ¡®Success in life is built on understanding¡¯, his father¡¯s flat, dismissive tone still echoed in his mind years later. He even caught himself repeating the phrase to young recruits, internally wincing as it surfaced feelings of childhood resentment each time the words left his lips.  The injustice of spending warm sunny days sequestered inside the family estate, learning agriculture or inventory management, while his friends were recreating historic Elven victories with wooden swords or swimming at the lake, still left a bitter taste. I guess, in a way, it did ultimately lead me here.


    Moving systematically south, step by step, his mind wandered back to those subjects he had truly enjoyed, the fundamentals of magic, the history of successful warfare and battle tactics, and the characteristics and behaviors of wonderous creatures. A fleeting smile crossed his pursed lips. Along with the repetitive instruction in both sword and bow, it had opened his eyes to an alternative path not dominated by enology and distribution contracts. His education had exposed him to the opportunity to embrace the world and all its mystique. To explore, to discover. Maybe, in this case, the old man¡¯s method wasn¡¯t so bad after all.


    Of course, he had learned about demons - academically speaking. They were categorically ruthless creatures of seemingly infinite variety that respected nothing, always hungering for more death and chaos, extremely unpredictable, and hard to kill. Normally confined to the Abyss, only powerful magic or rare celestial circumstances enabled their travel to the prime material plane. His shoulders tightened in anxiety, and a cold sweat tickled the back of his neck as his confidence wavered. Maybe it was better not to know. He shook his head as more of his father¡¯s words immediately sprung to mind. ¡®Those who don¡¯t understand the motivations of their adversary don¡¯t even realize they¡¯ve already lost.¡¯ Although the original context was contract negotiation, the point was nonetheless valid. They had a greater chance of success knowing what they were up against.


    The ranger drew a deep breath and rolled his shoulders to relieve the stress that grew with each step closer to such formidable danger when he felt his forearms tingle. Glancing down, he saw every hair on his arms and hands sticking straight up. Instinctively, Segwyn buckled his knees to drop for cover. In the same moment, a kaleidoscope of blues, reds, and purples saturated his vision as a wave of heat and static rippled across the forest and over his body. The echoing crack of multiple trees separating from their roots pulsed in his ears as he hit the ground.

 14. The Spies - Dancing with Demons

    ¡°¡­At least we¡¯ve had decent traveling weather,¡± Lunish announced, the afternoon sun and the river on her right as they moved north towards their destination.


    ¡°Aye, it certainly could have been worse!¡± Grym agreed.


    Their last day and a half had passed without incident ¨C Glynfir¡¯s perpetually sodden footwear notwithstanding - and the mood was light. The only meaningful encounter had occurred just an hour before. Still wary of pursuit from Chagrothlond, they scrambled into the dense roadside overgrowth at the sound of hoof beats. Watching silently as a single military rider on horseback overtook their position from behind, the trio returned to the path and resumed their course. Fortunately, it occurred next to a tranquil section of the Shand, or they may not have heard the approaching rider above the river¡¯s rushing waters until he was on top of them.


    Carved from the dense mixed forest of black pine and birch, the steadily rising road occupied the narrow strip of Shan territory between Eredmire and the Shand. The river¡¯s meandering course dictated the shape of the overland route to the Luminarium. Just two parallel dirt tracks separated by a strip of low grass and foliage, the trail was comfortably wide enough for only two abreast. Rather than continue to duck and weave around every protruding branch, Glynfir chose to lag a couple of steps behind the others.


    ¡°What¡¯s our story when we get to the Luminarium? Do we tell them who we work for and why we¡¯re there?¡± The wizard threw out the question to no one in particular.


    Grym was the first to offer an opinion.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re hunting for secret information this time, and what other plausible reason would the three of us have for hiking up into these Gondforsaken mountains?¡±


    ¡°Maybe we are interested in becoming monks ¨C a career change¡­¡± Glynfir offered.


    The druid snorted, shaking her head, her two long braids bouncing in exaggeration. She had decided to stick with the new look and relegated her well-worn hat to the depths of her pack.


    ¡°Ha! You can¡¯t go one night sleeping rough without complaining. You wouldn¡¯t last a week on the straw mats of a monastery!¡±  she teased him.


    ¡°I reckon I could become a monk. Trade my axe for a staff¡­¡± The dwarf made chopping motions in the air ¡°¡­turn these hands into deadly weapons!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d certainly stand a better chance than Glynnie!¡± Lunish agreed.


    ¡°I¡¯m not that bad,¡± The wizard objected. ¡°My spells are far more complicated than yours. They require material components and take a lot of discipline and practice!¡±


    ¡°Fair point. Okay, I take it back,¡± Lunish relented. ¡°Though I still think it looks pretty suspicious for us to roll up to a monastery in the middle of nowhere ¨C that¡¯s just been attacked no less¨C and claim we¡¯re there to join the initiate program¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, when you put it like that¡­the truth it is!¡± Glynfir agreed. ¡°The Guardians are concerned with the attack and whoever is behind it and want to help - sound right?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡± The dwarf confirmed, turning to Lunish. ¡°Any update from Snuggles?¡±


    The group now referred to the anonymous, non-binary voice that delivered all communications from the Guardians as Snuggles, agreeing she was definitely female.


    ¡°Not a peep since the initial instructions before we left the cave, but that¡¯s not surprising.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯s dumbfounded by our recent demonstration of prowess and bravery, and the resulting lust and admiration has left her speechless!¡± Glynfir quipped


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    The trio shared a laugh as Lunish¡¯s bright soprano giggle bounced around the surrounding area.


    Just up ahead, where the road bent hard to the left, accommodating the corresponding eddy in the river, two gaunt charcoal figures hunched over fresh corpses. The tip of each hooked horn pecking into the fallen horse and rider as they greedily tore strips of flesh and organs from the increasingly skeletal frames.  Alerted by the distant sound of Gnomish laughter, two heads snapped up, and the figures froze, their glowing red eyes fixed on each other.


    Blood dripping from their chins and cheeks, they exchanged a short series of low growls and clicks, grabbed their spears, and scrambled toward the approaching voices. Neither fully upright nor on all fours, the demons¡¯ loping gait quickly covered the distance between their recent kill and the sharp turn shielding them from view. With one final shared glance and a gruff grunt, they soundlessly sank into the overgrowth on either side of the trail to wait.


    Long sinewy muscles tensed in anticipation as two pairs of red glowing hatred tracked their prey ambling cluelessly closer. At thirty feet, they made their move. The first began to weave magic in a hushed guttural whisper, red strands of energy pulsing in a matrix among the tips of its blood-stained claws. Covered by the river¡¯s perpetual babble, it spoke the final words, flicking the energy toward the chain mail-clad dwarf.


    Immediately, Grym screamed and dropped to the ground, grabbing his chest.  The metal links of his chain shirt glowed an angry orange, sending shimmers of heat rising into the air. Within moments, the metal ignited his tunic, its fit trapping the burning fabric against his skin. His brain was overwhelmed by thousands of points of pain shooting from every nerve in his torso. He couldn¡¯t speak; he couldn¡¯t even think.  The dwarf instinctively rolled on the ground, futilely flopping in the dirt like a fish out of water, desperate to extinguish the flames. He clawed at the armor, his screams elevating as the metal links seared into the palms of his hands. The acrid smell of burning flesh and smoldering fabric curled into the air.


    The demons exploded onto the road, their long legs propelling them from the cover of the undergrowth. With two quick strides, they set upon the surprised trio.  The first launched a crude spear at the wizard as he gazed dumbfounded at his writhing companion. The jagged blade caught the half-elf just below the ribs, opening a gash in his side and sending the contents of his satchel sprawling into a debris field at his feet. Grunting from the impact, he dropped to one knee.


    The second demon let out a hissing roar, its canine fangs stretched tendrils of bloody saliva across its toothy maw, as it scuttled to engage. With both hands on the spear, it drove the blackened tip directly into Grym¡¯s chest as the defenseless dwarf struggled to remove the chain mail. The sickening thud of metal on bone shocked Lunish back into the moment, and she immediately dropped to her knees at her friend¡¯s side.


    A rush of air buffeted her cheeks as the demon¡¯s second swing whistled over her head. Magical energy coursed through her as she thrust her hands, palms down, onto Grym¡¯s chest without thinking. Recoiling instinctively as her exposed flesh met the searing chain mail, she shifted quickly to his face, pouring the healing energy of her spell into his body. It¡¯s not enough! She could feel his life force declining faster than she could replenish it.


    ¡°I can¡¯t stop it!¡± She shouted.


    His eyes hurriedly scanned the contents of his satchel scattered across the ground. The wizard settled on a short amber rod, tipped with fur, just out of reach.  Rolling to his left, he grabbed the rod. Removing his other hand from the wound in his side, he frantically wove his fingers, flicking droplets of his blood into the air, and spit out the words of the incantation.


    Adjusting his line to target both demons but avoid Lunish and Grym, the half-elf brought his two hands together on the rod and released the spell. A five-foot wide flash of lightning arced from the rod, ripping through both creatures, leaving behind a dully glowing wound on the black skin of their chests. Both demons wavered slightly from the impact before righting themselves and resuming their attack.


    What? That should have at least knocked them down!


    A series of cracks and pops echoed in the distance as the charge of electricity ran its course, cascading into the tree cover north of the road. Seeing the glowing matrix sputter and return to the digits of the creature¡¯s clawed hand, the wizard shouted to his gnomish companion.


    ¡°It¡¯s using a spell to heat his armor, Lulu. We have to break its concentration!¡±


    ¡°How do we do that?!?¡±


    ¡°Attack him!¡±


    The gnome risked a glance toward the farther creature, magic crackling from its claws as it bore down on Glynfir, before returning to the more immediate threat.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got my own problems here!¡±


    The smell of burning flesh and hair hung heavily in the afternoon air and began to mix with the wood smoke emanating from the nearby foliage that bore the brunt of Glynfir¡¯s blast. As the intensity of Grym¡¯s wailing began to dwindle, Lunish fumbled around in her pack.


    I need a weapon. I¡¯m not a fighter. How in Gond¡¯s name am I supposed to¡­


    Her hand closed around a wooden shaft and wrenched a small carpenter¡¯s hammer from the bag. Springing to her feet, hammer held high, she stood her ground between a seven-foot hissing ball of evil straight from the lower planes of Hades and her incapacitated friend. The contrast was stark as her level gaze fell just above the creature¡¯s knees. The cold sweat of true life-or-death fear beaded on her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Her mind screamed to run, but her feet didn¡¯t move.


    Maybe today is the day we all die.

 15. Rumble at the Riverside

    Whydah idly plucked the strings of the lyre harp as she and Bird bumped northward on horseback towards the Luminarium. The tune was a required piece on the entrance exam from the Bard¡¯s College back in Buhlent, difficult, but not impossible. The music always made her feel complete. Whole. It calmed her, washing stress and worry away with every note struck. Throughout their travels, it was the journeys themselves she most relished. Be it on horseback, wagon, or boat, every hour of travel was an hour of music. Bird had an opposing viewpoint on the subject. The Tabby loathed the hours spent traveling, finding them a necessary evil between the more interesting pursuits ¨C planning a heist, crawling through caves after some cryptic legend, or performing for a crowd as they had the evening before. From her perspective, the greater joy was in the spaces between destinations. Moments like these ¨C a gorgeous mountain vista and the playful rhythm of the river on a sunny day with her lyre made it all worthwhile. While he tolerated the travel to enjoy the destinations, she tolerated the destinations to enable the journeys and the music that accompanied them. Today¡¯s trip included a new sensation. She felt the pendant, her secret prize from last night¡¯s work, gently tapping against her breastbone with each step of her mount. An internal metronome of sorts, she immediately incorporated it into her routine, timing her melodies to the subtle beat it generated.


    They had been riding since just before dawn. Bird favored a dimly lit departure, particularly when it involved borrowing someone else¡¯s property as they had from the White Horse stables this morning. They had chosen well and made good time, toggling the pace to preserve the horses now owed a brief rest. This seemed as good a place as any. The relatively sparse cover on the riverside made this one of the more open stretches they had crossed in some time. Green grass filled the space between the wagon ruts, offering decent grazing fodder for the horses, while the noon sun promised a warm spot by the water for their meal. Whydah stowed the lyre into her pack and gave a quick shrill whistle. Glancing back over his shoulder, Bird nodded in response to her hand signal calling for a stop, navigating his horse to the left-hand side of the path, allowing her space to pull in beside. Although her quarter horse was more than two hands shorter than his full-sized steed, it still pushed her limits of control. A pony would be better proportioned to her stature, and it didn¡¯t matter at today¡¯s pace, but a full gallop would be problematic and likely end with her getting dumped. Mounts and dismounts also required a little help.


    She waited patiently as Bird dismounted and removed his pack, setting it off to the side before walking around to her horse.


    ¡°You Ready?¡±


    ¡°Yep!¡±


    The Tabby stretched out his arms as she swung her leg over the animal¡¯s back and let herself slip into his firm grasp. He lowered her to the ground before removing her now out-of-reach pack. The two of them settled on a fallen log facing the river as the horses wandered nearby, heads bowed nibbling the roadside grasses.


    ¡°How¡¯s the hip?¡± he asked, fishing in his pack for one of the traveler¡¯s meals they secured that morning.


    ¡°Been better. Having to stretch so much to straddle the horse doesn¡¯t help.¡± She smiled ¡°But I¡¯ll live!¡±


    Bird withdrew a waxed bundle marked with the outline of a rearing white horse, unfolding it to reveal a small loaf of fresh bread, a few slices of cured meat, and a wedge of cheese. They shared the meal, watching the sunlight dance across the Shand¡¯s flowing waters.


    Whydah held up the last piece of her cheese before popping it into her mouth. ¡°Not bad for a roadside flophouse in a two-horse town.¡±


    ¡°Better than I expected!¡± The tabby turned his head to look at her before reaching out a finger and tucking his claw under the silver chain peeking out from the neck of her tunic lifting it gently. ¡°That¡¯s new¡± was all he said before letting it fall back onto her collarbone. She felt the blood rush to her face. Oh shit! She hesitated, never raising her gaze from the bread crusts in her lap. I feel like such an ass!


    ¡°Oh, this? She slid her thumb under the chain, pulling the pendant into the sunlight. ¡°It was in Red Beard¡¯s coin purse. I liked the way it looked, so I tried it on. I just forgot to tell you, I wasn¡¯t trying to cheat you, I swear!¡± Regret replaced embarrassment as her gaze dropped to the exposed pendant, not wanting to confront the hurt and anger she expected to see on his face.


    To her surprise, he chuckled instead. She returned to his toothy grin, confused.


    ¡°Relax!¡± His rolling ¡®R¡¯ always reminded her of a purr.


    ¡°You¡¯re not mad?¡±


    ¡°Nope. It¡¯s part of The Code. In joint initiatives, the finder has right of first refusal over any non-currency acquired during the operation. It¡¯s, basically, a ¡®finders-keepers¡¯ situation for anything other than coin.¡± The grin on his face belied his amusement with her embarrassment. He raised his hand, palm up. ¡°Let¡¯s have a look.¡±


    Whew! She closed her eyes and exhaled, relief washing away the tense knot in the pit of her stomach. She embraced him in a side hug.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I promise I¡¯ll tell you next time!¡±


    Slipping the chain over her head, she passed it to her partner. Bird held it up into the sunlight rolling the sliver between his fingers to make the crystal pendant spin slowly, the sunlight returning flashes of color across the spectrum from within its dappled interior.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°It¡¯s crystal, but these flecks inside that refract the light are unusual.¡± He considered the setting. ¡°Looks elvish, very pretty!¡± He passed the chain back and she slid it over her head, tucking the pendant back under her tunic just as a series of screams to their left interrupted the conversation.


    Their heads immediately turned to the road ahead disappearing around a nearby bend.


    ¡°That¡¯s not a creature. It sounds like a man.¡± The tabby craned his neck to focus on pinpointing the location. ¡°I think it¡¯s just up around that next bend!¡±


    Whydah jumped to her feet. ¡°I¡¯ve got the horses.¡± She hurriedly gathered their reins and led the animals off the road before tying off around a nearby limb. Bird shoved the remains of their lunch into his pack before grabbing hers as well, hiding them under the overgrowth nearby.


    ¡°You want the lyre?¡± He called to her over his shoulder, holding up the instrument.


    ¡°Please!¡± she confirmed collecting the harp from his grasp and they rushed down the road on foot towards the next bend, painful screams echoing in the background.


    Peering through the tree-covered corner, the halfling identified the source of the anguished cries. Two unnatural-looking creatures that Whydah had never seen before ¨C seven feet tall, black skin, eyes that shone like embers, and a single hooked horn curving forward from the rear of their skulls ¨C had three humanoids on the ropes. Fifty feet beyond the turn, a male dwarf lay prone, the armor on his torso glowing red hot. And they¡¯ve got magic too. Charming. His screams began to transition to guttural wails. He doesn¡¯t have long. To his right a wizard, sporting a gash under his ribs scrambled to his feet, collecting something important from the dirt. Most peculiarly, a female gnomish druid brandishing a small carpenter¡¯s hammer stood over the dwarf, poised to defend him from the closer of the two attackers. She doesn¡¯t stand a chance. Her hand reached for the Tabby¡¯s bicep.


    ¡°We have to help!¡±


    ¡°I had a feeling you¡¯d say that¡± Bird muttered as she felt his muscles tense, ready to spring.


    Spying the matrix of red energy bouncing among the fingers of the farther creature, their plan solidified rapidly.


    ¡°Far one is casting, I¡¯ve got him. You help her.¡±


    First thing first. Reacting quickly, Whydah flicked her fingers towards the rear creature, immediately dissipating its spell. It looked down at its empty hand, then to the wizard before hissing wildly and rushing forward. Let¡¯s see how you like me inside that hooked head of yours. She focused on the advancing demon and whispered a haunting dissonant melody, feeding a little extra magical juice into the spell. The creature stopped in its tracks and let out a wail of agony, both hands pawing the sides of its bony head. Its gaze snapped to Whydah¡¯s position before turning to flee in the opposite direction.


    ¡°Well, they know we¡¯re here now¡­¡±


    Taking that as his cue, Bird sprung from the overgrowth towards the nearer adversary. Unaware of his approach, the creature shifted its spear into one hand as the familiar red matrix sprung to life in the other. Whydah could only watch as the druid was surrounded by an eerie red glow and levitated from the surface of the road. Extending its fingers in a flicking motion, the demon pushed her kicking form thirty feet through the air - to the middle of the flowing river - before ending the spell and dropping her into the water. Shit. Returning both hands to the spear, it plunged the tip into the prone dwarven fighter before Bird collided with the creature at top speed.


    The two tumbled into the dirt, as the impact separated the attacker from the spear still embedded in Grym¡¯s chest. The cat smoothly drew both katanas from over his shoulders as he rolled to his feet. Sunlight glinted from the slightly curved steel as he circled to his left to put himself between the creature and the two injured humanoids. The demon too recovered quickly and rose to face this new foe, blood-stained jaws snapping. Farther down the road a roar followed by several grunting clicks told Whydah the second foe had shaken her spell as she watched it lope at top speed towards her feline friend. The tabby stood stark still; swords held high.


    I¡¯m sorry, you¡¯ll have to manage without me for a bit. Whydah jumped from the cover of her hidden position and took off towards the river¡¯s edge pointing at her partner while shouting assertively in Glynfir¡¯s direction.


    ¡°Help him!¡±


    Does she think I¡¯m stupid?! Glynfir collected the rest of his spell components from the road, grimacing as he stood, assessing the situation anew. The black cat, garbed in leathers and a cape, held two wicked-looking swords aloft, constantly adjusting his footwork ever so slightly as the two creatures crouched low and attempted to flank him. The wizard removed a small sphere of bat guano and sulfur from his satchel, examined it, and quickly blew off the loose dirt accumulated from its short time on the ground. As he drew the symbols and muttered the incantation, an orange mote of magical energy began to circle his right hand.


    ¡°Incoming!¡± he shouted at the back of his new ally pointing at the space between the two attackers. The mote of energy left his finger and grew exponentially into a raging fireball as it arced toward the target. Recognizing the troublesome trajectory at the last second, Bird caught the corner of his cape with the tip of one sword and rolled to his right, using the garment to protect himself as all three were engulfed in a fiery explosion. The wizard winced at his miscalculation.


    ¡°Sorry!¡±


    Rolling back to his feet, Bird shot him a look over his shoulder before adding


    ¡°That didn¡¯t slow them down much ¨C try something else!¡± extinguishing the smoldering fur on his right leg as the demons converged. A flurry of blades and claws erupted as the three figures danced around each other and the blackened crater in the middle of the road. The Tabby embodied lethal grace in his swordsmanship, leading and feinting with his off hand before delivering crippling blows with his second sword when his opponent exposed itself. At least, that was how it usually went. These creatures were fast and intelligent, playing off each other¡¯s movements to expose his flank. His technique was on point - landing all the right blows and painting the road¡¯s surface with their black ichor ¨C yet they kept coming. He dodged and spun until one of them caught the back of his ribs. I don¡¯t know how long I can keep this up. Where is Whydah???


    He knew the slightest hesitation in positioning would mean his end and felt the ache of fatigue creep into his shoulder blades just before his feet lost contact with the ground. His legs futilely scrambled for purchase as he extended both blades to either side of his body to hold the advancing figures at bay. Noting the telltale red energy pulsing among the fingers of both creatures, he felt the palm of his right hand begin to burn as the standard silver hue of the katana changed to bright orange. Heat rippled off the blade into the surrounding forest air, and as the pain became unbearable, he had no choice but to let it fall.

 16. An Unfortunate Outcome

    Whydah stumbled along the shore of the Shand, scrambling through brush and over deadfalls. One eye searched the undergrowth for a long thin stick to use as a retrieval tool, the other scanned the river¡¯s surface for any sign of the druid woman dumped into its quick-moving waters. Where is she? Although they were near the headwater, it was easily deep enough to drown a gnome, particularly if injured. A sparkle of green energy flashed along the bank and suddenly there stood the druid dipping wet and staring back at her in surprise.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Whydah¡­my friend and I saw you being attacked by those creatures and came to help. He¡¯s still fighting them.¡± She nodded backward over her shoulder in the direction of the road. ¡°Are you okay? How did you¡­?¡± Her question was cut short by the rumble and flash of Glynfir¡¯s fireworks.


    ¡°Lunish. And I¡¯m fine.¡± she waved her hand dismissively. ¡°I just shifted into a trout and swam back¡±


    Whydah felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Of course she did. She¡¯s a druid. Whydah offered her a hand crossing a fallen log at the river¡¯s edge and gnome and halfling scrambled back up the bank towards the others.


    ¡°Could you shift into a dragon or something?¡± Whydah asked, clawing for a handhold in the embankment¡¯s leaf litter


    ¡°Nope. It¡¯s cool, but not that cool. Best I can do is probably a bear or a wolf.¡±


    The pair emerged from the roadside brush fifty yards downstream and found the situation significantly degraded. Bird hung helplessly in mid-air as both creatures moved in for the kill. Glynfir frantically rummaged through his satchel. Grym lay motionless on the road, a spear haft pointing skywards from his chest. They broke into a dead run towards their friends.


    Segwyn scrambled to his feet. The lightning bolt surged into the forest just up ahead. Sideways trajectory. Not natural. It came from the road. The smoldering nearby greenery wafted grey smoke beneath the canopy wrapping the area in a visual haze. Intermittent cracks and thumps of surrendering foliage tapered off as the stoic calm of the forest reasserted itself. The wren¡¯s call trilled from his left ¨C Darmor, judging by the distance. The ranger picked his way to the source, peeking through the heavy cover towards the river. Too thick. Preceded by his closer companions, Segwyn found them huddled in observation. Mimicking their low crouch at the edge of the tree line he followed their gaze south down the road.


    A mustached wizard, at least part elven, and a cat-like humanoid wielding two oddly shaped swords battled two black, skeletal figures. Sunlight glinted off the slick ooze covering their lean, hunched forms. Long spiny tails whipped back and forth as they slowly circled the cat. A single horn protruding from the back of their skulls curling up and forward was unmistakable, though the ranger had never seen one first-hand.


    These were Babau, in elvish the name translated as ¡®ebony death¡¯ - the assassins and recruiters of Orcus¡¯ demon horde. Formidable if faced alone, but manageable when outnumbered. Waiting on the rest of the team, the elves watched silently as a bead of red energy sprung from the wizard¡¯s hand before expanding into a massive ball of fire. A collective wince rippled through the group as the incendiary landed, swallowing ally and foe alike. This cat has fantastic reflexes. He almost avoided that entirely! The ranger felt more than heard the movement behind him, signaling the arrival of the others. Segwyn turned to address the team.


    ¡°These are Babau. We can manage two of them. They have magic, so stick to the bows and stay out of range.¡± He pointed south along the tree line. ¡°Let¡¯s set up in a tight line at the edge of the cover. First shot on my mark, and ¨C Halisk - string black second and hold.¡± Seeing her nod in confirmation he scanned the eyes of the other team members ¨C concerned but not scared.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got this! Now let¡¯s move while we still have help.¡±


    The Blades broke the huddle and shuttled themselves, unnoticed, closer to their targets. The acrid stench of sulfur grew stronger as they shortened the distance. Once settled, Segwyn issued a series of hand signals, silently dividing their attention. The first six pointed toward the enemy on the right, while the two armed with blue arrows turned to the demon on the left. The ranger nocked a blue arrow and trained left, his open hand overhead, prepared to signal the first volley.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The tabby¡¯s swordplay is ruthless!  Segwyn was momentarily mesmerized by the unorthodox technique, almost entirely contradictory to his extensive training in dual wielding. Instead of tiring his opponent by forcing constant defensive maneuvers, the cat used one sword to create kill-shot openings for the other constantly. If it weren¡¯t for the stiff hides and protective ooze of the demons¡¯ physique, they would likely both be already dead. What he had no counter for was their magic. As the cat was levitated into the air, Segwyn saw one of the swords begin to glow ember orange and opened the palm of his raised hand ever so slightly. The stretching sinew of eight bowstrings whispered their readiness.


    Glynfir was out of options and out of time. Fire didn¡¯t work. Lightning didn¡¯t work. What else have I got? He mentally ran through his inventory of spells while fishing through the satchel, hoping the material components within might prompt some epiphany. The chatter of steel on stone returned his attention to the road. Seeing his only standing ally - one hand empty - suspended helplessly in midair by the demons¡¯ magical matrix, he just reacted.


    Thrusting his outstretched fingers toward the closest attacker, five red darts of energy instantly sprung to life and sped across the intervening distance. Their trajectories diverged, crisscrossing with each other on the journey before all five reconverged in a series of percussive thuds along the creature¡¯s corrugated spine. The Babau staggered forward, just catching itself, and shook its head to reorient. Its spell broken, Bird¡¯s glowing blade immediately regained its silver hue, but remained stubbornly out of the reach of its hovering owner. The son of an Otyugh felt that!


    Segwyn watched from the other side of the battlefield as the red energy pulses staggered the farther creature. Now! He dropped his arm and six strings sang, sending a speeding blur of white toward the back of the second Babau. One glanced off the creature¡¯s shoulder and veered wildly toward the river, the other five hit home, the impact snapping the demon¡¯s head backward. Black ichor spattered the road¡¯s surface as the creature spun, roaring in frustration towards yet another new foe, not realizing its spell had broken.


    As Bird dropped back to his feet, he quickly recognized the changing tide. Seeing one opponent staggered and the other with its back turned, he seized the opportunity. In two quick steps, the cat closed the distance to his distracted enemy and leaped into the air. Grabbing the base of the demon¡¯s horn, he pulled down with all his weight. The creature¡¯s long charcoal body bent backward awkwardly before losing balance. With one smooth stroke mid-fall, the Tabby swung the blade under the demon¡¯s chin and drew the full length of forged steel across its throat. The two combatants hit the ground with a thud. Arrow shafts snapped against the compacted gravel, the creature¡¯s weight and the Tabby¡¯s momentum driving them deeper into its torso. A large black pool quickly spread across the road¡¯s surface. Bird watched the creature¡¯s glowing red eyes flicker, and go dark.


    It barely registered to Whydah that Lunish had peeled off at some point during their race to the wizard¡¯s position. Who¡¯s shooting arrows?  Her heart sang as she watched Bird¡¯s acrobatic takedown, and with renewed hope, she shifted her attention to the remaining demon. Pulling up next to Glynfir, she was already humming the discordant melody. Let¡¯s see how you like some more psychic pain! Releasing the spell Whydah felt her mind tether deep inside the creature¡¯s twisted brain. Unspeakable horror and evil swirled, trying desperately to deflect her advance with torturous and repulsive imagery. She gagged instinctively at the mental counter-attack. Sweat beaded on her forehead, bile rising in the back of her throat, she mentally pushed against the resistance. Breaking through, the bard quickly anchored the dissonant whisper and severed her connection. The demon reared back, hissing, violently shaking its head from side to side. Its glowing eyes settled on Whydah before letting out an enraged howl, mentally forced to flee. Relief washed over her. That should buy him a little time.


    It turned out to be time Bird wouldn¡¯t need. As the lumbering Babau stumbled away from Whydah towards the Verdant Blades, Segwyn drew his bowstring and shouted,


    ¡°Now!¡±


    All three arrows buried themselves in the creature¡¯s chest. A distorted bubble of magical energy formed with each strike, swelling, and bursting in a loud pop. The Babau, launched off its feet by the enhanced impact, landed heavily on the now bloodied and blackened road beside Bird. Ready to pounce, the cat watched the eyes pulse briefly with one last flash and go out.


    All was suddenly still. The uneasy silence that arrives moments after a fierce battle descended on the group. No one moved or spoke until a wail of mourning echoed off the surrounding hills.


    ¡°NOOOOOO!¡±


    All eyes cut to Lunish, on her knees, hunched over Grym¡¯s unmoving form. The green energy faded from her hands as she slumped forward, her head on his chest. The gnome¡¯s shoulders shook erratically as she sobbed silently over the body of her fallen friend.

 17. Blossoms of Tribute

    The afternoon breeze rustling the overhead canopy joined the Shand herself in a whispered murmur of shared mourning as the group stood silently at either end of two simple graves.   To the side of one lay a large mound of earth, next to the other a similar pile of stones. Her shoulders slumped as she fidgeted with two seeds, passing them back and forth between her fingers. The druid¡¯s voice cracked as she spoke, her eyes lingering on the dwarf¡¯s still and ashen face.


    ¡°He should be entombed in stone. That¡¯s the dwarven way.¡±


    ¡°I did the best I could under the circumstances, Lulu.¡± Glynfir sighed. ¡°The spell only lets me move earth, not carve solid rock. The grave is entirely lined with stones and I¡¯ll cover him with the others. It will have to do.¡±


    He somberly gazed down at his friend one last time, arms folded across the axe on his chest. I¡¯ve never seen her like this. In the hours since Grym¡¯s death, Lunish had barely spoken and avoided all eye contact. The wizard put his hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault Lulu. You can¡¯t blame yourself.¡±


    Her head spun around to meet his gaze, eyes flashing dangerously.


    ¡°Oh really? Tell me, what exactly did I do to help in that fight? Hmm?¡±


    Glynfir froze - his mouth agape - shocked by the sudden outburst.


    ¡°I tried to heal him instead of attacking that thing, got tossed in the river, and by the time I came back he was dead.¡± Her fists balled up and flecks of saliva flew from the corners of her mouth. ¡°When he needed me the most, I let him down and now he¡¯s dead. I would say it is my fault Glynnie. If I wasn¡¯t such a shitty fighter, he might still be alive!¡±


    The druid turned away from him, sobbing, as awkwardness descended over the rest of the group. The Verdant Blades kept their gaze dutifully on the ground below them, refusing to get involved in the discussion. Glynfir began to respond when Segwyn caught his gaze. The ranger silently furrowed his brow and raised his palm. Taking the suggestion that this was not the time, the wizard closed his mouth and shook his head. Whydah meanwhile, bagpipes in hand, glanced from Lunish to Glynfir, and finally to Bird, quizzically shrugging her shoulders.  After receiving a subtle nod in reply, she began to play.


    It was a somber requiem at the pace of a funeral march. Bird winced as the harsh, haunting notes pierced the silence and echoed among the surrounding foothills, wordlessly telling a tale of sorrow and loss.  The drone pipes sighed an unbroken mournful background as she worked the melody from the chanter. When the bard allowed the mouthpiece to fall from her lips and the hum of the drones stubbornly faded, she nodded to Glynfir.


    The wizard¡¯s fingers twitched as he magically pulled the pile of earth over the Shan rider that had overtaken them on the road hours before. A downward sweep of his hand leveled the surface. He turned to Grym¡¯s grave, wiping a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand before repeating the gestures. The low rumble of grinding stone joined the river and the wind in saying a final goodbye as the pile of rocks shifted to entomb the dwarf, falling into place with a series of faint clicks.


    Lunish stumbled back three paces, ragged sobs catching in her throat. She sank to her knees at the head of the makeshift cairn. Clearing the leaf litter produced the comfortable scent of loam and the earth was cool against her fingers. She pushed one of the seeds several inches into the loose soil, pressing it down firmly before repeating the process above the rider¡¯s grave.


    ¡°I would step back a bit,¡± she announced to the group barely above a whisper.


    Her hands began to emit a green glow as the others backed up. Placing one palm on the ground above each seed, the gnome closed her eyes, her lips moving soundlessly. She inhaled sharply as the magic flooded in and euphoria overwhelmed her. At one with the warm limitless vitality of nature, she contemplated just letting it take her, returning to the earth in full surrender. It would be so easy. No more of this misery and pain.  Remembering her purpose, she shook it off. No. Grym wouldn¡¯t want that.


    Acting as the conduit to the magic of life, she channeled its force through each hand and into the seeds below. Immediately sprouts pushed through the surface of the soil. Grasping them gently between her fingers she tempered the flow, feeding each as much as it could handle. In moments the seedlings became saplings, their trunks thickening and darkening as the two plants pushed skyward. Red-tinged oval leaves twirled and unfurled before their eyes as the growing trees sent branches in all directions, the greenery and buds filling out as they grew. At fifteen feet, blossoms popped from tendril tips, dusting the living and the dead with sweet-smelling pollen, and instantly both trees were in full bloom, their branches heavy with deep pink flowers. It truly was an idyllic resting place ¨C sprawling branches filled with blossoms overhead and the sparkling Shand at their feet.


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    Lunish reluctantly closed off the magical energy and removed her hands from the trunks before opening her eyes and getting to her feet, admiring what she had just created. Her lips pressed tightly together, the magic¡¯s departure left her empty again. Sorrow quickly refilled the void, her chest tightening as she regarded the group.


    ¡°Even though it¡¯s midsummer, these trees will bloom at this time, every year.¡± She stepped forward, laying her hand on one of the large stones atop Grym¡¯s cairn, she lowered her head, speaking directly to him. ¡°I hope the beauty below matches the beauty above my friend. Long may you run in the halls of Erackinor.¡± Without another word, she strode off towards the river¡¯s edge.


    The late afternoon sun struggled to peek through the stiffening cloud cover rolling in from the east as it began to dip behind the Glimmerstone peaks. While still pleasant, cooler offshore breezes, now rich with the scent of flowers, threatened rain by nightfall. Segwyn was the first to speak as the group lingered graveside, marveling at the matured trees raised from seeds in less than a minute - two new lives flourishing in tribute to the two lost.


    ¡°What now? Will you ride on tonight?¡± He was looking at Bird. The Tabby cocked his head in consideration, glancing briefly at Whydah. She pouted her lips and shrugged, subtly shaking her head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. We can¡¯t make the Luminarium by nightfall without really pushing the horses.¡± The cat gazed skyward, ¡°¡­and I¡¯m not particularly fond of riding in the rain. I think we¡¯ll camp here tonight and get a fresh ¨C and hopefully dry ¨C start in the morning.¡±


    Segwyn nodded. ¡°That sounds wise. How about you wizard?¡±


    Glynfir grunted, shaking his head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going anywhere with Lulu in her current state. The morning probably makes more sense for us too. I don¡¯t fancy meeting any more of those demons in the dark.¡±


    The ranger nodded again. ¡°It¡¯s settled then. We camp here tonight.¡±


    Whydah looked confused. ¡°You¡¯re part of the Eredmire military right? Don¡¯t you have to get back?¡±


    ¡°Eventually¡­¡±, the ranger waved his hand dismissively ¡°...but our top priority is to figure out how these demons got here and make sure there aren¡¯t more. We¡¯ll track their backtrail to the source tomorrow. Also, we should clean up the mess on the road. It wouldn¡¯t be very neighborly to leave it for the Shan¡­ That would be like letting your dog shit in next door¡¯s garden and not cleaning it up.¡± Low chuckles rose from the group, everyone grateful for a bit of levity.


    He turned to the Verdant Blades, ¡°We¡¯ve got a lot of work to do before dark.¡± He pointed his fingers around the group dividing up tasks. ¡°You two ¨C see what you can hunt down for dinner, we¡¯ve got twelve mouths to feed. The four of you, please deal with what¡¯s left of that horse, and you two get to work setting up camp. I¡¯ll deal with the demon corpses.¡± A series of nods and confirmations preceded the soldiers'' dispersal in multiple directions according to their assigned duties.


    Bird stepped forward. ¡°I feel partially responsible for the mess, I¡¯ll help with the corpses.¡± Segwyn gave an appreciative nod.


    ¡°Come on Glynfir, looks like we¡¯re on camp duty!¡± Whydah tugged his sleeve turning towards the nearby clearing containing their horses and packs.


    ¡°Call me Glynnie¡± the wizard responded as the group dispersed. ¡°Do you think I should go after her?¡± he asked Whydah as they reached the road.


    ¡°Not yet. Give her some time to process.¡±


    ¡°Where are we going with these?¡± Bird asked, picking up one leg of the Babau. He grimaced distastefully at the sticky feel of the creature¡¯s ooze against his palm and its sulfuric aroma. Segwyn, his hands occupied dragging the second demon, pointed his nose towards a low ditch filled with raspberry bushes off the side of the road and answered with an up nod.


    ¡°There¡¯s good I think.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re lighter than I expected ¨C not really much to them,¡± the Tabby remarked, taking great care to avoid touching the demon¡¯s viscous surface any more than necessary as he directed it to the edge of the swale before launching it over the edge with a shove of his foot. Fresh pain shot up his left side forcing a wince. He had momentarily forgotten about the injuries to his ribs and leg from the earlier battle. Whydah¡¯s voice whispered in his head as the corpse rolled down into the brambles. Can you please bring back a few bits and pieces just in case? He turned to the ranger. ¡°Hang on. Before you launch that one, Whydah wants some pieces for one of her spells. Just hold his leg up for a second?¡± The Tabby bent down, wiping the demon slime from his hands on the grass.


    Sensing what was to come, Segwyn stepped back, extending to his full reach, hoisting the leg off the road¡¯s surface. Bird rose, drew the katana, and with one smooth motion, all four toes hit the gravel with a soft plop. He sheathed the sword before producing a handkerchief from the pocket of his leathers. Gathering the orphaned digits from the road, he returned the prize to his pocket.


    The ranger dropped the leg and wiped his hands on the fringes of his cape. He nodded towards the sword as he kicked the second corpse into the ditch.


    ¡°I noticed your tactics during the fight. Unorthodox, but very impressive. Where did you learn to dual-wield like that?¡±


    The Tabby chuckled. ¡°An old thief named Broken Fang. The cat was high most of the time. It was a real shame because he had mad skills, but¡­ so lazy.¡± He idly plucked a raspberry from the nearby bush, popping it into his mouth. ¡°I was convinced he didn¡¯t want to fight any longer than he had to and put a lot of thought into his technique to minimize effort. I had to bribe him with ditch nip to get him to teach me.¡±


    ¡°Ditch nip?¡± The ranger furrowed his brow.


    Bird looked around before stepping across the road and plucking a fist full of greenery from the shoulder. He handed it to Segwyn.


    ¡°Ditch nip¡­wild catnip, named for where it grows ¨C ditches and roadsides. Not the most effective and a bit harsh, but for Tabbies, it¡¯ll get the job done!¡±


    It was the ranger¡¯s turn to chuckle. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize catnip had that effect on your people, but it makes sense.¡± As he prepared to toss the plants into the bushes, he felt Bird¡¯s hand on his arm.


    ¡°Actually¡­can I have that back?... It¡¯s been that kind of day!¡±

 18. Insight by Firelight

    Whydah glanced sidelong at the half-elf and gnome as they sat around the fire, the flickering light constantly painting then removing shadows from their faces. Her eyes narrowed.


    ¡°So, why exactly are you going to the abbey?¡±


    The party had just dined on a buffet of shared rations augmented with fresh raspberries, wild turkey, and two trout foraged nearby. Glynfir bought some time by taking a bite of elf bread as he and Lunish shared a look. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, the gnome shrugged, idly tossing a piece of grass into the fire before answering the wizard¡¯s unasked question.


    ¡°Go ahead. I don¡¯t see any harm in telling them¡­ In fact¡­ I think I¡¯m done with this secrecy bullshit altogether.¡± The druid waved her hand in the air dismissively.


    Glynfir nodded, popping the last bite of elf bread into his mouth. Brushing the crumbs off his hands while he chewed, he told the group about the Radiant Guardians, their mission to the Luminarium and the rudimentary magical communication with their employers. As he finished, Segwyn asked,


    ¡°So, they don¡¯t tell you why they want to know or what they plan to do with the information?¡±


    ¡°Never.¡±


    ¡°¡­Or warn us about potential danger,¡± Lunish added, the accusation palpable in her voice.


    ¡°It¡¯s possible they didn¡¯t know¡­¡± Whydah offered


    Segwyn grunted, ¡°In my experience, people in power always hold back some detail if it helps them get what they want.¡±


    Propping himself up on his elbows, feet crossed towards the fire, Bird spoke for the first time.


    ¡°Safe to assume this is the first time the work has led to combat?¡±


    Lunish dropped her gaze, staring into the fire¡¯s embers, nodding.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it obvious? Not that I consider myself some hardened warrior, but I can¡¯t even protect my friends in battle¡­pathetic.¡±


    The Tabby pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling his legs back from the fire¡¯s edge, but Segwyn spoke first.


    ¡°Just because you didn¡¯t, doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t¡­Don¡¯t equate what you¡¯re capable of with your reaction in one specific moment. I¡¯ve seen many highly trained warriors freeze when things got real ¨C particularly the first time.¡± He glanced subtly across the fire to Neril, making eye contact momentarily before returning to Lunish. ¡°It¡¯s more mental than anything else.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Bird added, fully engaged in the discussion. ¡°In battle, things happen quickly. Your most powerful weapon is the one between your ears.¡± The tabby tapped his temple. ¡°Often, when the dust settles, what separates the living from the dead isn¡¯t pure skill, it¡¯s quick thinking ¨C being able to assess the situation and apply the skills you have for maximum effect.¡± The druid considered for a moment before asking,


    ¡°Well and good, but you still need some skill. I suck with weapons. All the quick wit in the world can¡¯t overcome that!¡±


    It was Glynfir¡¯s turn to chime in.


    ¡°Lulu, you¡¯re being too literal. It doesn¡¯t have to be a sword or a bow. Your magic is your greatest weapon. Look at me¡­¡±


    ¡°But your magic is designed for that. Mine is nature-based ¨C it¡¯s for helping people.¡±


    Segwyn challenged the gnome.


    ¡°Is it? Or is that just how you were taught to use it? Nature can be a pretty destructive force¡­¡± Lunish lowered her gaze and furrowed her brow as she considered his remark. The group went silent. Whydah put her hand on the gnome¡¯s shoulder and spoke in a more diplomatic tone.


    ¡°A lot of my bardic spells are like yours. If it helps, I cast a lot of magic to enhance abilities or protect the others during combat ¡­if you aren¡¯t comfortable using your magic to destroy.¡±


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    ¡°You could be a real badass if you think differently about how you use magic, and play to your strengths,¡± Bird proposed.


    Lunish was puzzled. ¡°How do you figure?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± The Tabby stood, brushing the dirt from the back of his pants, ¡°Let me tell you what I saw today.¡± He extended his outstretched hands towards the fire¡¯s warmth. ¡°When we got to the corner, I saw a three-foot tall druid ¨C with no armor - standing toe to toe with a seven-foot demon.¡± The cat¡¯s performance instincts took over, his voice rising into a story-telling cadence as he began to act out the scene - adopting a defensive fighting stance. ¡°Not only were you prepared to go there, but you were also willing to do it¡­¡± He straightened his posture and held up his open hand, ¡°¡­ with a carpenter¡¯s hammer!¡±


    Pausing for effect, Bird turned his palm up and extended it towards Lunish - silently requesting the hammer. Unsure where this was going, the bewildered gnome retrieved it from her pack, placing the haft into his hand before returning to her seat by the fire.


    Now properly equipped, the feline crouched low, resuming his defensive posture and fireside theatrics.


    ¡°Facing a creature twice your size, staring death in the face, you refused to abandon Grym. You didn¡¯t run, you didn¡¯t even flinch.¡± He pointed the head of the hammer at the druid. ¡°I don¡¯t know many warriors with that kind of courage and determination.¡± Shifting the hammer first to Whydah, and then to Segwyn and the Verdant Blades, the cat raised his eyebrows. ¡°Agree?¡±


    A chorus of enthusiastic nods and confirmations rose around the fire. Lunish smiled in surprise.  Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, she lowered her head in embarrassment at the unexpected compliment.


    He spun back around to face the druid. ¡°But¡­ if you keep fighting like that¡­¡± his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. ¡°¡­we¡¯ll be burying you next to your dwarven friend.¡±


    He straightened once again to his full height, holding the hammer aloft. ¡°This is not a weapon.¡± Reaching back, the Tabby hurled it over his head towards the water. Twirling end over end, the tool quickly disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the audible rush of air around its form that ended in a distant splash as it met the river¡¯s surface. Surprised by Bird¡¯s impulsiveness, Segwyn let out a deep belly laugh.


    The gnome stood up, scowling, ¡°That¡¯s all I have¡­¡± She looked over her shoulder towards the sound of rushing water. ¡°Well¡­ had...¡± Bird held up a finger, begging her patience, before flicking his wrist, instantly producing a sheathed dagger from his leathers. ¡°That¡¯s Grym¡¯s!¡±


    The cat nodded. ¡°¡­and far better than that hammer!¡± He extended the blade, pommel first towards her. As she reached to accept it, he pulled it back slightly, locking her gaze with his yellow feline stare. ¡°Let his memory inspire you to find another solution whenever you¡¯re forced to draw it. You are a warrior of magic ¨C at your best attacking from behind the main combat. If you¡¯re fighting with this, it¡¯s a big red flag.¡± Re-extending his reach, he handed her the blade before returning to his original seat by the fire without another word.


    Segwyn looked across the fire at Whydah. ¡°Is he always this dramatic?¡±


    The halfling rolled her eyes. ¡°You have no idea!¡±


    The fire¡¯s occasional hiss, signaling its intention to resist being extinguished, announced the arrival of light rain.


    ¡°Thank you all for the suggestions and support. I¡¯m not sure the combat lifestyle is something I could ever get used to.¡± Lunish raised her head to the sky. ¡°We¡¯re about to get wet. We should find some shelter. It may be a long and uncomfortable night.¡±


    ¡°Great¡­ This day keeps getting better!¡± Glynfir muttered sarcastically under his breath.


    ¡°Not to worry,¡± Whydah said brightly. ¡°I¡¯ve got it covered. If you would all gather around the packs¡­¡± She gestured towards the pile of gear behind her. Taking their cue from Bird, familiar with the circumstances, Lunish and Glynfir rose and joined the cat at the indicated location. The ranger and his team stood but made no move towards the others.


    ¡°Will you join us Segwyn?¡± Whydah asked as her hands started to weave patterns in the air, the flashes of white energy competing with the fire to light their surroundings. ¡°I can offer warm and dry accommodations ¨C totally secure!¡±


    The ranger chuckled. ¡°Thanks for the offer, but we already set up.¡± He swept his arm towards a group of tents across the clearing. ¡°Plus, we¡¯re heading out at first light, before the tracks wash out. So, this may be farewell¡­ at least for now. Good luck on your travels to the abbey tomorrow.¡±


    Whydah paused for the two groups to exchange handshakes, thank-yous, and goodbyes. As the Verdant Blades retired to the tents, the others resumed their position and the bard began again. The rain fell harder as she started humming a soft tune, her fingers moving in time to the melody. As they waited expectantly, Bird pointed overhead where a white mote of energy began to spin, initially forming a circular disc before expanding into a clear hemispheric dome twenty feet in diameter around their position. The hollow sound of deflected rain grew in proportion to the dome¡¯s surface area. When it reached the ground, the circle of white sparkling energy contracted to enclose the area beneath their feet, ending in a faint pop as it reached the center of the magical floor. Spell completed, Whydah rose. With a snap of her fingers, the interior of the dome was bathed in dim light. She turned to the group, her arms spread wide, and gave a slight bow.


    ¡°Welcome to my tiny hut!¡±


    The wizard giggled. ¡°Oh, I like this spell a lot!¡±

 19. A Call Answered

    Bird poked his head outside the tiny hut. The morning was sodden. Constant rain through the night had soaked the surrounding area. The clean smell of fresh pine accompanied the muted pitter-patter of water dripping from the trees. There was no sign of the Verdant Blades. The group, true to their word, had left before dawn. I hope the rain hasn¡¯t washed away the trail.


    Rousing the others, the tabby stepped outside. Kicking the toe of his boot into the remains of the fire, he padded across the small clearing and untethered the horses. He stretched and shook the evening¡¯s kinks from his arms and legs. Ouch. His ribs still ached where the demon had caught him during the fight. The cat undid his jerkin, peeling back the leather for a closer inspection as Lunish and Glynfir emerged from the hut.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I didn¡¯t think of it before.¡± She said to the wizard over her shoulder, ¡°With only two of us, I can wild shape into a horse. We can ride with the others instead of walking.¡±


    ¡°I like it! We''ll get there much faster, and my shoes will stay dry!¡± The wizard furrowed his brow. ¡°But I¡¯m not very good with Animals, Lulu. I¡¯ve never ridden a horse¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a horse, you idiot, it¡¯s me! I will understand everything you say, and I¡¯m not going to throw you off or anything.¡± Turning to face Bird, the gnome immediately noticed the wound.¡± Ooh, that looks nasty! Let me take a look.¡± Bird slipped the jerkin off his shoulder and raised his arm. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say anything yesterday?¡± she scolded him. ¡°Macho male bullshit¡­?¡±


    ¡°Honestly, I felt like you just had a lot going on, and I didn¡¯t want to add to it.¡±


    Lunish tilted her head, eyebrows raised, nodding in acquiescence. ¡°Not gonna lie, yesterday was not one of my best days. You¡¯re forgiven this time, but in the future, don¡¯t hide your injuries! Anywhere else?¡± The cat turned to expose the burns on his leg. ¡°Mmm-hmm... may I?¡± She looked up at him expectantly.


    ¡°Please!¡± he nodded. The green energy crackled to life, and the gnome placed one glowing hand on each injury. Bird felt the warmth of the magic course through his body. An involuntary chuckle escaped his lips. The pain vanished, and he watched as the wounds healed and disappeared. I will never get tired of that! ¡°Thanks, Lunish!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Next time, don¡¯t keep it to yourself!¡±


    Whydah stepped out of the translucent hut. Instantly, the magical construct began to disintegrate just as it had materialized. A white fizzing sprang to life at the dome¡¯s apex and slowly descended in a circular ring. Like a burning fuse, it consumed the hut¡¯s exterior until it reached the ground, scuttled across the forest floor, and disappeared with a pop. She looked at Bird.


    ¡°We should get going if we want to make the abbey by midday.¡±


    ¡°Did you hear?¡± Glynfir asked smugly. ¡°We¡¯re going to be riding with you now¡­ Well, I¡¯ll be riding Lulu...¡± before quickly adding ¡°¡­as a horse,¡± the flush of embarrassment tinted his cheeks.


    The gnome shot him a withering glance as Whydah laughed out loud, dropping her pack next to her mount.


    ¡°Yes, I heard!¡± She patted the animal¡¯s flank while gathering up the reins.


    Lunish, shouldering her pack, separated herself from the others to make some room for her pending change. ¡°Are we ready? Remember, you can talk to me normally. I can understand; I just can¡¯t speak.¡±


    The wizard looked her up and down. ¡°What about your clothes and your gear?¡±


    ¡°Everything I¡¯m wearing and carrying is part of the transformation.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know where it goes exactly¡­¡±


    Lunish closed her eyes. In a flash, her form shifted into a sorrel mare, complete with two long red braids woven into her mane.


    With some difficulty, Bird helped the wizard onto her back before lifting Whydah into the saddle. Mounting his steed, the cat took the lead, and the three riders set off north.


    The road continued to rise steadily in front of them. Even in midsummer, the mountain tops sported white peaks of snow above gray and black stone before transitioning to a bristle of green foliage. On their right, the Shand was fast and dirty. The evening¡¯s rain and runoff from the Glimmerstones had swollen its headwaters. The banks struggled to contain the flow, leaving the nearby ground saturated and soft. The horses¡¯ hooves cast off muddy clods as the trio cantered through the foothills, alternating their speed to preserve the animals.


    The spire of the Luminarium rose into view on the horizon just before midday. The closer they got, the starker its visage. Black scorch marks dappled the grey stone around every window and door. Recent rain had washed the smoky residue toward the ground in streaky rivulets. From afar, the entire abbey was weeping tears of soot from every orifice. Behind the courtyard¡¯s closed iron gate, a lone figure stood leaning on a staff, intently observing their approach. Slowing the horse to a walk over the final half mile, the riders watched as the figure, a white-haired elven woman, pulled on a nearby rope. The peal of an iron bell rang out across the meadows, the sound echoing among the nearby peaks before trailing off. Within moments, several more monks in dirty white robes, somewhat disheveled, assembled tensely behind the sentry. All armed with staves, their faces reflected a mix of weariness, tension, grief, and resolve.


    ¡°State your business!¡± She called out tersely, raising her staff as they drew within fifty yards of the gate. Bird, still in the lead, stopped his horse and dismounted as he began the parley.


    ¡°We are no threat to you or the order. We are old friends of - ¡±


    ¡°Whiskers! Short Stuff!¡± Tsuta elbowed through the small group of monks to stand beside the woman Bird now recognized as Drow. ¡°It¡¯s OK, Pinky¡± was all he said before throwing open the gate and swallowing the tabby in a bear hug.


    ¡°Hello, Stick! It¡¯s good to see you!¡±


    Unconvinced, the rest of the abbey held its collective ground, wary of the newcomers and grimly poised for action. The bald elf looked back at the courtyard with a puzzled look, finally recognizing the distrust.


    ¡°Everyone, these are the adventurers I told you about. I¡¯ve trusted them with my life more times than I can count! You have nothing to fear here!¡±


    The tension level among the abbey¡¯s inhabitants receded as Tsuta moved to Whydah¡¯s horse, plucked her off its back, and twirled her around in a similar hug as she rubbed his bald head.


    ¡°Hello, Tsuta, I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re safe!¡±


    ¡°What in Gond¡¯s name are you two doing here?¡±


    Whydah answered first, ¡°We were in the area and heard about the fire. The name rang a bell, so we came to help.¡±


    ¡°We also picked up some reinforcements along the way.¡± Bird stepped to the side, waving his arm toward the unannounced members of their little group. ¡°This is Glynfir and Lunish.¡± As all eyes turned to them, the wizard, attempting a solo dismount, promptly tumbled off Lunish¡¯s back, landing face down in the wet grass with a groan. Now free of her rider, Lunish shifted back to her gnomish form in a flourish of green energy.


    She raised her hand in greeting to the silent onlookers.


    ¡°Hi, everyone!¡±


    Over the next hour and a modest meal, introductions were made. The two groups shared information about recent encounters with the Babau, their origin, preferred battle tactics, and the ongoing tracking activities of the Verdant Blades. As they sat around the two remaining long tables in the abbey¡¯s mess, Sifu Haft, having been a silent observer through most of the discussion thus far, stood. Taking a cue from the deferential locals, the four newcomers gave him their attention.


    ¡°Let¡¯s summarize what we know.¡± He began, standing officially at the head of the seated group. ¡°For reasons unknown, the Luminarium was attacked by four of these creatures we now know to be demons.¡± The diminutive master, carefully organizing his thoughts, started pacing back and forth in front of the tables, his head bowed, hand idly stroking his bushy mustache. ¡°After leaving the abbey, the two surviving Babau waited along the access road to ambush any assistance or reinforcements.¡± He paused. Only the crackle of the fire broke the silence. ¡°As these demons are not native to this plane of existence¡­¡± He raised a single finger into the air. ¡°¡­we believe that powerful magic was used to deposit them on our doorstep, destroying two of our beacons in the process.¡±


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    A voice spoke from the doorway.


    ¡°Did you say two beacons?¡±


    All heads turned, startled to see Segwyn, flanked by the rest of the Blades, standing in the doorway. Several of the monks rose immediately in alarm, reaching for their staves. Sifu Haft, reading the calm demeanor of the recent arrivals, raised both his hands, palms up, stilling their movement.


    ¡°Master Segwyn of the Verdant Blades, I presume?¡±


    The ranger nodded, leaning forward to grasp forearms with Bird, who had casually risen from his seat to greet him.


    ¡°Apologies if we startled anyone, but you really should post a guard in the courtyard, under the current circumstances¡­¡±


    Annoyed at having his momentary lapse in security highlighted, Haft nodded briskly, dismissing the remark with a wave of his hand.


    ¡°Yes, yes. I made a short exception for the debriefing. Please join us. You were asking about the beacons?¡± He waved his hand towards the tables.


    Segwyn turned to the team and said a few quiet words, and one of the members returned to the courtyard, presumably to stand watch, as he crossed the floor, followed by the rest. Quiet handshakes and introductions were exchanged, and space was made to accommodate everyone. Bird and Lunish gave up their seats, opting to stand. The tabby casually leaned back against the fireplace wall, arms crossed, as he listened.


    ¡°I thought I heard you say two of the beacons were destroyed¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, the central and southern outposts. Iskvold and Tsuta¡­¡± Haft gestured towards the seated monks, ¡°¡­were at the Northern beacon and saw nothing.¡±


    The ranger pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, directing his next question to the identified monks.


    ¡°How long after the initial attack were you still at the outpost?¡±


    Tsuta thought for a moment. ¡°It was at least a couple hours¡­maybe three¡­before Usha turned up.¡± He looked to the dwarven acolyte, who nodded in confirmation. ¡°Why?¡±


    Segwyn lifted his finger, connecting invisible locations in the air as he spoke.


    ¡°We tracked the two demons from the riverside to your front door very early this morning.¡± He added a second finger to demonstrate a split path. ¡°We found four sets of prints here and followed them back to the two outposts. They both showed tracks leaving the beacon, but none ascending.¡±


    Sifu Haft interrupted, a measure of impatience evident in his voice.


    ¡°Okay. That¡¯s consistent with our belief that they were brought to the beacons magically¡­¡±


    The ranger nodded, holding up his hand as he puzzled through the details in his mind.


    ¡°Right¡­ but then we carried on to the northern outpost¡­¡± He nodded toward Tsuta ¡°¡­just to be thorough, and we found tracks from two more. They appeared out of thin air, below the plateau, and travelled up and down from the outpost before heading west through the gap.¡± He raised his head, shifting his gaze around the room. ¡°If the northern outpost wasn¡¯t destroyed before, it certainly is now.¡±


    The room was silent momentarily before Iskvold¡¯s spine straightened, and her eyes went wide.


    ¡°That means they deliberately came back, after the attack, to destroy the last beacon¡­ but why?¡±


    Segwyn pointed his finger repetitively toward her, nodding in agreement. Bird pressed himself off the wall into a standing position and opened his mouth, but the Glynfir spoke first.


    ¡°What if the abbey wasn¡¯t the primary target?¡±


    He said the words very quietly, anticipating the chorus of objection that immediately rose from the monks around the table.


    Haft¡¯s face flushed, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth, his speech rushed and ragged.


    ¡°They killed twenty-one of our order, who we still haven¡¯t been able to bury, and burned everything we had!¡±


    The cat, with a smirk of impressed acknowledgement to Glynfir, jumped to the wizard¡¯s defense. He raised both hands in a calming gesture as he stood before the fireplace, his shadow flickering long across the table¡¯s surface.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t make what happened here any less horrific to consider a different motivation. Let¡¯s hear him out.¡± This seemed to bring the room back to a more rational mindset.


    Glynfir cleared his throat before continuing, his voice stronger. ¡°We¡¯ve been assuming that they were after something in the Vault, but if that were true, they would have come back here with additional forces ¡­but they didn¡¯t.¡±


    Lunish, silent until this point in the conversation, picked up the logic.


    ¡°Instead, they went back to destroy the only remaining beacon in the area.¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Glynfir turned to Segwyn. ¡°You said that demons have no regard for life of any kind, right?¡±


    The ranger nodded. ¡°More than that ¨C they despise it.¡±


    ¡°So, they wouldn¡¯t hesitate to kill everyone associated with these outposts if it served their main objective-¡±


    Tsuta finished the sentence ¡°-making sure the beacons were inoperable.¡±


    Sifu Haft, his face no longer flushed, spread his arms.


    ¡°But we still come back to - Why? Why only these beacons?¡±


    Segwyn shrugged and raised his eyebrows. ¡°Invasion. If I was planning a significant military operation, I would take out the early warning system first to buy my army time before they met resistance.¡±


    Whydah shook her head. ¡°But it¡¯s been two days. You wouldn¡¯t wait, would you?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± The ranger admitted, ¡°I would attack immediately, as soon as the beacons were down.¡±


    ¡°There is another possibility...¡± The whole room waited as the halfling paused. ¡°¡­what if there was something you needed to do in that specific area¡­something important¡­something you didn¡¯t want interrupted?¡± Seeing several confused looks around the table, she explained further. ¡°No watchers and no flares ensure no interruptions, right?¡±


    Quiet mutterings signaled a degree of agreement before Sifu Haft summed up the conversation.


    ¡°So, we believe that someone or something that can command demons ¨C and bring them to this plane ¨C is up to no good just across the border.¡±


    ¡°Is there anyone we can tell?¡± Lunish asked, turning to Segwyn. ¡°Can you bring more troops?¡±


    The ranger shook his head. ¡°Not quickly. It¡¯s more than a day¡¯s ride to the closest Shan outpost, and Eridmere doesn¡¯t have the numbers.¡± He looked around the table. ¡°Like it or not, the only forces capable of intervening in the next few days are sitting in this room.¡±


    This time, Iskvold felt it coming. The simple statement triggered an emotional barrage ¨C grief, guilt¡­ powerlessness. Her heart raced. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her hands balled tightly into fists. She started to shake. And there it was, deep within her gut, the white-hot, all-consuming rage. As the rage swallowed her, she launched herself upright, slapping the tabletop with both hands. Eyes flashing, facial features twisted into a snarl, her voice boomed.


    ¡°Whoever did this must pay for the pain they caused, the lives they took. Justice will be served. I will take it from their wretched hides, even if I have to go alone!¡± She looked at Tsuta expectantly, her chest heaving like she had just run for miles.


    A stunned silence fell over the room. Even the unflappable bald monk was taken aback by her sudden and uncharacteristic fury. He hesitated only momentarily before rising and giving her a single nod. His brow furrowed in concern, Tsuta raised his hand to her shoulder.


    ¡°Are you okay, Pinky?¡±


    She shrugged him off.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not okay! This is not okay! We have to go after them!¡±


    ¡°And we will.¡± His tone was level and calm as he looked to Bird and Whydah, eyebrows raised in silent question. The tabby¡¯s yellow eyes narrowed in apprehension as he assessed what he¡¯d just witnessed from the drow. Making up his mind, the cat glanced at his halfling companion, her single slow blink telling him all he needed to know. His outward grin returned.


    ¡°We¡¯re with you, Stick.¡± He crossed the floor before clasping a hand onto his friend¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Someone has to make the bad choices so you don¡¯t have to!¡±


    Segwyn stepped forward. ¡°The Blades are needed back in Eridmere, but I will come ¨C if you¡¯ll have me?¡± Nods and verbal affirmations around the room answered his question.


    ¡°What about you, Sifu?¡± Iskvold asked the abbey¡¯s master. The older man hesitated, choosing his words carefully. A wistful look of disappointment crossed his face.


    ¡°Unfortunately, I don¡¯t think these old hips could handle the terrain. I would only slow you down. Plus, there¡¯s a lot of work to be done here with the initiates and the abbey¡­¡±


    The drow, settling herself with a deep breath, nodded in understanding.


    Glynfir looked at Lunish, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.


    ¡°What do you think, Lulu? It¡¯s up to you. Where you go, I go.¡±


    The gnome wrung her hands while Whydah offered some encouragement.


    ¡°We could really use your skills out there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about that¡­¡± Lunish whispered, almost to herself. ¡°¡­and I¡¯m really scared and torn right now.¡± Her eyes darted around the room. ¡°We barely survived - and Grym didn¡¯t ¨C against two of those things¡­ and you want to go after them?¡± She bowed her head before continuing, her voice cracking. ¡°Part of me feels like I owe it to him, but the other part wants to run as fast as possible in the other direction.¡± The druid shook her head, still looking at the floor. ¡°I totally understand the need to stop whatever¡¯s going on over there, but I¡¯m no demon hunter!¡± She raised her head to the room. ¡°What makes you think we have a chance of surviving, let alone succeeding?¡± Her words trailed off into silence until Segwyn took a step forward, his lips pursed. After a moment of silent consideration, he spoke.


    ¡°As in life, there is no certainty, unfortunately. We don¡¯t even know what we¡¯re truly up against. None of us asked for this, and our reasons for going vary¡­¡± He nodded toward the different members of the group as he ran down the list. ¡°Revenge. Justice. Loyalty to a friend, or in my case¡­¡± He raised his hands to his chest and let out a deep breath. ¡°¡­a sense of duty to my home and my people. I am compelled to, at least try, because I know - in here¡­¡± He tapped his fingers into the center of his chest. ¡°¡­from what we¡¯ve all recently witnessed, whatever is going on over there is significant. I have no doubt the threat will get far worse left unchecked.¡±


    The ranger fixed his gaze firmly on Lunish. ¡°We are all worried and uncomfortable, believe me, and only you can decide if your courage and motivations are strong enough to overcome that and join us.¡± He paused, turning his gaze to the wider audience. ¡°I believe that if we don¡¯t stand up, we don¡¯t stand a chance.¡±


    The gnome let his words hang in silence, gazing at the floor for several moments before raising her head towards Glynfir. The wizard gave her a supportive smile. Finally, she spoke.


    ¡°Okay, we¡¯ll come¡­but just in case we don¡¯t make it back, there¡¯s someone I need to see first.¡±

 20. The Hermits Secrets

    With the important decision made, multiple casual conversations broke out among the group. Glynfir approached Sifu Haft, his face creased in confusion.


    ¡°I heard you say you¡¯ve been unable to bury your dead. Do you mind if I ask why?¡±


    The old monk felt his cheeks flush. Avoiding the wizard¡¯s gaze, he pretended to busy himself, tidying up dishes from the table.


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, it¡¯s a bit embarrassing¡­only one shovel survived the fire. I hoped to bury them on either side of the road so everyone approaching the abbey would be reminded of their sacrifice.¡± He let out a deep sigh. ¡°But here we are, three days later, and we¡¯ve only managed to dig four graves. Iskvold has them under a big block of ice out in the courtyard¡­¡±


    The wizard turned to see Lunish arriving at his hip.


    ¡°I think we can help with that.¡± Looking to the gnome, he asked,¡± Do you have any more of those seeds, the ones with the pink flowers?¡±


    ¡°Sure, a whole bunch¡­why?¡±


    ¡°I was thinking we could help Sifu give the monks a send-off like we did for Grym¡­¡±


    ¡°I think that¡¯s a great idea!¡±


    The two described their memorial on the road, and the abbey¡¯s master beamed in appreciation. He felt the tension in his shoulders relax.


    ¡°Thank you both! That would mean so much to all of us here, to finally lay our brothers and sisters to rest.¡± He embraced them in a collective hug¨Ca rare demonstration for the grizzled old monk.


    ¡°Happy to help¡­¡± Lunish offered, her voice muffled in his shoulder. The gnome pulled back from the hug, her hands gripping the monk¡¯s forearms as she looked him in the eye. ¡°¡­there is something you can help us with too,¡± she continued. ¡°Grym mentioned a friend of his, an old draconic hermit that lived around here; any chance you know where we can find him?¡±


    Armed with Haft¡¯s directions, the pair set out north. Glynfir held his head high, perched on the back of the sorrel mare, a smile on his lips. Before they left, he used his magic to effortlessly prepare twenty-one grave sites for the monks. Their gratitude was both generous and genuine. This was a good feeling¨Chelping others. Now, they were on their way to honor Grym¡¯s last request¨Cto visit his old friend.


    Not quite the same, but close enough.


    It was still an act that didn¡¯t benefit him personally, and it gave him a warm feeling. Given the anxiety that gnawed at his gut whenever he thought about taking off after demons tomorrow morning, the wizard was grateful for any relief, however fleeting.


    The squeal of binding wood alerted him to something approaching from the opposite direction. He guided Lunish to the side of the path as a wagon pulled by two horses came into view around the corner. In the front sat two monks in pale orange robes, one human, one elven, gently navigating the vehicle over the rutted narrow road. The wagon was loaded with supplies, the contents bouncing precariously over every tree root and stone. Wedged between a pile of linens and a stack of woven mats was a halfling monk wearing the familiar white of the Luminarium. Visibly regretting his seating choice, the halfling winced with every lurch. This must be Graver, returning from the Abbey of the Crystal Dawn.


    ¡°Boy, will they be glad to see you!¡± Glynfir smiled in greeting as the wagon pulled to a halt. After briefly explaining who they were and where they were going, the driver snapped the reigns, and the wagon resumed its bumpy journey towards the abbey. As it pulled away, one of the monks shouted over his shoulder.


    ¡°Good Luck¨Cthe hermit is a little crazy... Watch he doesn¡¯t drop a fireball on your head just for trespassing!¡±


    Lunish lightly stomped her feet beneath him. The wizard patted her neck affectionately.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Lulu, I¡¯ve got a good feeling about this...¡±


    Horse and rider reached a choked, narrow trail running west before Lunish reverted to her gnomish form with a flash, and they continued on foot. Within a few minutes, the woods crowding the path gave way to a clearing framing a small, tidy-looking cottage. The roof was thatched, and a light wisp of smoke curled lazily from the chimney. The pair paused at the tree line.


    ¡°Well, looks like he¡¯s home.¡± Glynfir offered brightly.


    Lunish grunted in response.


    ¡°And he definitely doesn¡¯t want anyone sneaking up on him¡­see how much of the forest he¡¯s cleared all around the cabin?¡±


    They stood silently observing the surroundings.


    With a shared nod and a deep breath, the pair cautiously stepped across the clearing.


    Lunish called out, cupping her hand to her mouth, ¡°Hello?... Mister Glamos?¡±


    Halfway to the dwelling, a mote of red energy streaked from the window, swelling as it hurtled their way. Recognizing it immediately, Glynfir pulled the gnome to the ground. The fireball exploded just out of range, scorching the grass in front of them¨Cclearly, a warning shot.


    ¡°How rude!¡± he heard her mutter into his shoulder


    ¡°That¡¯s far enough!¡± a voice called from inside the cottage. It was a higher pitch than the wizard expected, and though it cracked with age, there was a gravitas to the tone. ¡°The next one won¡¯t miss!¡±


    Scrambling to their feet, Glynfir raised his hands in surrender. Lunish reached into her satchel, thumbing the silver chain and hammer pendant she¡¯d pocketed before the burial.


    ¡°We¡¯re here about your friend and ours¡­Grym.¡±


    The druid pulled the chain from her picket. Holding it over her head, the hammer pendant spun, glinting in the sunlight. There was a long pause before the door creaked open no more than a hand''s breadth.


    ¡°If you¡¯ve got that chain, he must be dead.¡± The disembodied voice said from the shadows within.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so,¡± Lunish confirmed. ¡°The three of us were coming to see you¡­. but he didn¡¯t make it.¡± Her voice broke as she spoke the last few words.


    The door opened halfway, protesting on its hinges, and a figure emerged from the darkened interior. The humanoid was unlike any other Glynfir had ever seen¨Cthe perfect blend of man and dragon.  He was bipedal and average in height by human standards. A white, scaly hide was visible on his neck and face. Pointed spikes hung from the chin of his elongated snout like icicles. Two nostrils, spread wide, framed a slight peak that pointed skyward at the end of his nose.


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    There was a lizard-like curve to his jawline, and his lower canines rested entirely outside his mouth. His rear teeth, too, were visible, peeking out from above and below his closed lips. Curved grey and white spines framed his eye sockets, pointing back over his head. It was as if someone had thrown water in his face that had frozen on contact. His irises glowed pale blue, circling black, vertical pupils that narrowed to slits as they caught the exterior light. His tail flicked idly, and a suspicious gaze lingered on each of them for a long moment before he spoke.


    ¡°Well, I guess you¡¯d better come in then,¡± he said flatly before turning and retreating into the shadows, leaving the door ajar.


    The cottage interior was cozy and smelled of cedar. Glynfir had expected a more crowded space, overrun with all the hoardings a hermit wizard might appreciate¨Cbeakers and test tubes, magical experiments, and an excessive number of books. The reality was exactly the opposite. The modest three-room cabin was organized and well kept, without a single indication of magical research. Even the books were limited to a dozen titles. A small sitting area framing the fireplace offered two comfortable chairs, one well worn, the other nearly new. A small wooden end table split duty between them. The visitors stood in the doorway as the draconian padded back to the kitchen area before returning with a kettle and a wooden chair.


    Setting the chair near the others to round out the seating, he placed the well-worn kettle on the hearth and turned on his heel, wordlessly heading back to the kitchen. They heard the banging of cupboard doors and the clink of dishes. Moments later, he returned, carrying a tray of three mugs and a tea box. He set the tray on the end table, shifting it to a position that could be shared by all three seats, before flopping into his favorite chair. Finally acknowledging their presence in his home, Glamos looked at them, the stiff white spurs above his eye sockets rising as he gestured to the remaining open seats. His tail flicked again.


    ¡°Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to sit down and tell me what happened?¡±


    The half-elf and gnome began with their mission in Chagrothlond, trading off on the narration back and forth over the next fifteen minutes. They covered their jobs, the trip to the Luminarium, Grym¡¯s final battle, and a detailed account of his burial ceremony. The wizened draconian listened intently, his stubby claw-tipped fingers steepled in thought, thumbs propped under his chin.


    The kettle¡¯s sharp whistle signaled a break in the conversation, sending a pillar of steam into the surrounding air. Their host rose, retrieved it from the hearth, and poured three cups of tea, offering one to each of them. The smell of bergamot and citrus drifted to his nose as Glynfir accepted the mug, noticing that his did not match the other two. While theirs were made from delicate, yellow porcelain, his was chunky, white earthenware with the words ¡°World¡¯s Okayest Wizard¡± printed on the side. He held it up quizzically. Glamos grunted in amusement, his thin lips stretching into a lizard-like version of a smile.


    ¡°Grym bought that for me as a joke, one time. It doesn¡¯t get used much, but I thought it was appropriate under the circumstances.¡±


    The half-elf giggled in response, his mustache twitching. ¡°Whew! I thought it was your passive-aggressive assessment of my skills!¡±


    All three laughed, appreciating the moment of levity.


    As he gazed into his teacup, his smile faded, and the draconian shook his head subtly.


    ¡°You know¡­I never expected to outlive that stubborn dwarf. Did he ever tell you about the time he almost got me killed battling a young green dragon way up north?¡± The smile returned, more nostalgic than amused. ¡°I hadn¡¯t been adventuring very long, and he convinced me to try reasoning with the creature! ¡®Talk to it.¡¯ he said, ¡®You¡¯ve got natural rapport.¡¯ he said¡­¡± He smirked and chortled, his nostrils sending two frosty cones of air curling towards the fireplace.


    For the next two hours, the three swapped stories of their dwarven friend in a catharsis of remembrance, laughter, and tears. Seeing the sun start to dip behind the western peaks of the Glimmerstones, Lunish lightly slapped her hands on her knees.


    ¡°Welp, we should be getting back to the abbey.¡± She stretched her lips into an exaggerated grimace, hunching her shoulders and furrowing her brow. ¡°Apparently, we¡¯re chasing demons into the Simerarian foothills tomorrow morning¡­and I have twenty-one prairifire crabapple trees to grow before dark.¡±


    The draconian nodded slowly and let out a long breath. ¡°Thank you for coming all this way to see me. It¡¯s been surprisingly refreshing to talk to people for a change¡­¡± he gestured to the two of them, ¡°¡­and share some fond memories of the past.¡± His vertical pupils narrowed on Glynfir, tail flitting back and forth in consideration. ¡°You expect to fight more of these demons in the coming days?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡± The wizard nodded.


    ¡°I may be able to help.¡± Glamos pushed himself out of his chair and shuffled into the cottage¡¯s back room before returning with an ornately carved miniature chest no more than three inches long. The gnome and half-elf watched, somewhat confused, as the draconian moved to the open area between their chairs and the kitchen. He tapped the chest in his hand, and with a flash of blue arcane energy, a full-sized version¨Ctwo feet by three feet- identical to the replica in his hand, materialized on the floor in front of them.


    ¡°That¡¯s a neat trick!¡± Glynfir grinned.


    ¡°Handy if you want to hide things on the ethereal plane.¡± He opened the chest, its lid shielding the contents from their view. ¡°The space is limited, but you can also have more than one!¡± His eyes twinkled as he shot the wizard a serpentine grin.


    The draconian muttered to himself, his tail working overtime as he rummaged through the contents before extracting three rolls of parchment tied off with coarse string. He stepped out from behind the chest toward the half-elf, squinting to read the labels sealed across the end of each scroll.


    ¡°You can add these to your spellbook when you get home tonight. I think you¡¯ll find them useful. This one¡­¡± He handed the first scroll to the wizard, his eyes twinkling. ¡°It will temporarily banish a creature to a sort of ethereal demi-plane of existence¨Ckind of like my chest here.¡±


    Before Glynfir could close his hand, Glamos lifted it away, pointing it at the half-elf as their eyes locked. ¡°Mind, if the creature comes from a different plane to begin with ¨C like a demon ¨C it sends them back permanently¨CPoof!¡± He handed it over, grabbing the second.


    ¡°This one is a dimension door¨Cit''s saved me more times than I can count! The half-elf¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Basically, it¡¯s a short-range teleport, and you can bring a friend!¡±


    He reached for the third scroll. ¡°This one is called Amber Vault, one of my own designs. It allows you to suspend an object in a gem of amber, unaffected by time or magic, until you release it.¡± With a shrug, he passed it to the wizard.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± Glynfir gushed, his voice full of gratitude. ¡°I was really worried about my effectiveness against these bastards! My usual go-tos- fireball and lightning bolt¨Cdidn¡¯t work as well as they should have¡­¡±


    Glamos chuckled, the loose, scaly skin on his throat thrumming in time to his laughter. ¡°Indeed, demons, as a group, resist many types of magic¨Cvery frustrating! Something radiant or psychic is your best bet. Good Luck!¡± Closing the lid to his arcane chest, he extracted the replica from his pocket. Tapping both simultaneously caused the larger version to disappear back to the ethereal plane with a flash.


    The visitors said their goodbyes. Lunish managed to extract an awkward hug from the draconian after she pressed Grym¡¯s silver chain into his meaty talons. The gnome resisted separation, holding his gaze with soft eyes. Sharing a tight-lipped, sympathetic smile, she spoke from the heart.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be staying at the Luminarium for the next little while. You should come by. I¡¯m sure everyone would appreciate your wisdom and experience and would love to hear about your adventures with Grym.¡±  The draconic wizard said nothing in response, offering only a subtle nod, his tail flicking back and forth.


    As they turned to go, Glynfir paused before asking sheepishly, ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind, but I¡¯m dying to know ¨C what were your parents like? It must have been an odd family dynamic to grow up in¡­a dragon and a human¡­¡±


    Glamos guffawed out loud, cones of frost belching from his nostrils. ¡°I¡¯ve wondered about that myself! Unfortunately, I can¡¯t give you an answer. By the time I hatched, they were gone.¡± His mood shifted, and a tinge of regret crept into his tone. ¡°I was raised by a human sorcerer who purchased my egg from a group of adventurers¡­I wish I had more to tell you.¡± His voice trailed off.


    The conversation reached its natural conclusion, and they stepped outside. The hermit raised a hand in farewell from the doorway as Lunish shifted back to horse form. With Glynfir on her back, they set off on the forty-minute return trip to the Luminarium.

 21. Turning the Corner

    The mood around the abbey had noticeably improved since their departure. Graver¡¯s return with supplies and assistance, combined with finally being able to bury their dead, had raised everyone¡¯s spirits. Although there was still an air of solemn resolve, it felt like some weight had been lifted from everyone¡¯s shoulders. Glynfir even noticed a couple of smiles on their return. As the wizard lingered to watch Segwyn and Bird sparring and exchanging tips on their very different styles of dual wielding, Lunish wandered over to the fresh burial mounds lining the road at the abbey¡¯s front gate. There she found Iskvold, sitting cross-legged in the dirt, meditating.


    ¡°It was a touching ceremony, I¡¯m sorry you missed it.¡± The drow spoke without opening her eyes.


    ¡°Me too, but we had to see Glamos before heading after the demons tomorrow,¡± Lunish replied. ¡°To get our own closure. For Grym.¡±


    Iskvold opened her eyes and nodded in understanding.


    ¡°I get it. I finally feel almost like myself for the first time since the attack.¡±


    ¡°I do have something to contribute, even though I missed the ceremony,¡± the druid teased with a twinkle in her eye, moving to the head of the first grave.


    The monk stood, dusting off her robes as she tucked her white hair behind her right ear. Her look was curious.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°A druid memorial¡­not quite as permanent as dwarven headstones, but much prettier¡­¡±


    Pulling one of the prairifire crabapple seeds from her satchel, Lunish repeated the steps she had followed by the riverside. Iskvold stood frozen, her mouth agape as the gnome¡¯s magical touch coaxed the seed into a twenty-foot tree, replete with vibrant pink flowers ¨C a feat that left her speechless.


    ¡°It¡¯s gorgeous!¡± Iskvold breathed.


    Gasps rose from the nearby courtyard as everyone outside stopped to watch the tree¡¯s ascent and bloom.


    ¡°Want to help do the rest?¡± Lunish asked.


    ¡°Just try and stop me!¡± She replied with a grin, extending her cupped hand.


    The druid passed her a handful of seeds, and the two worked quickly through the fading evening light. The drow woman planted one at the head of each grave while Lunish followed, performing the cantrip. The rest of the abbey¡¯s occupants drifted over to watch the display.


    When they finished, an honor guard of twenty-one bright pink, flowered trees stood like evenly spaced sentries guarding the road approaching the Luminarium. Their rich, sweet fragrance hung in the air while the pollen sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. A cheer went up from the onlookers as Iskvold dropped to her knees before embracing the gnomish woman in a long hug.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± She whispered. ¡°You have no idea how much this means to me¡­to all of us!¡±


    The evening meal was a send-off feast. Having survived on scraps and rations for the last two days, the group leaned into the fresh supplies provided by their sister abbey. Ham, turnips, and potatoes graced the table. The mood had lightened, and for the first time in several days, the sound of laughter echoed through the stone corridors of the Luminarium. Animated conversation replaced silent despair. Hope had returned.


    Sifu stood by the kitchen doors to the mess and rapped the metal-capped butt of his staff against the stone floor to quiet the crowd. Its ring echoed off the walls and ceiling.


    ¡°I want to begin tonight with gratitude. Gratitude to the Verdant Blades for their military support and assistance.¡± He raised his glass, and a chorus of table slapping filled the room. ¡°And to our newest members - Ayre and Kellam - who volunteered to join our order from the Crystal Dawn. Thank you for the food and supplies in our hour of need.¡± More hooting and table slapping. ¡°Most of all, thank you for the fresh linens and mats. I see most of us have already taken advantage, and it¡¯s less gamey in here already!¡± Sparse laughter broke out around the room. Haft nodded to the visitors, ¡°¡­and finally, gratitude to those who go forward tomorrow seeking justice for our fallen. For your assistance in putting our dead to rest and your willingness to pick up our cause, we will never forget it!¡± The room erupted in smiles, backslapping, and applause.


    Haft lowered his head, waiting for the fervor to die down.  Realizing he had more to say, the din tailed off. His tone was more subdued as he resumed.


    ¡°As some may know, I¡¯ve been doing this for a long time. Forty-five years of service to Kord, and more than thirty leading this order.¡± He drew a deep breath, exhaling audibly. ¡°But I realized something this afternoon, as plans were made to go after these wretched creatures¡­I realized for the first time that my days as an adventurer are over.¡± He felt a tightness in his chest as his voice broke, and a tear rolled down his cheek. ¡°I still have much to offer this place and our order, but when the time came to decide who was going to carry our battle standard into the wildlands, I had to be honest with myself.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± broke the silence, its speaker indeterminable within the crowd.


    Sifu held up his hand. ¡°No, no, it¡¯s okay. These old bones have seen too many winters to run around after demons, and I¡¯m at peace with that.¡± He wiped the tear from his cheek. But I¡¯ve been holding onto a couple of things, and I think this is the appropriate time to pass them on.¡± He straightened. His eyes searched the crowd for the drow. ¡°Iskvold?¡± He beckoned her forward. As she joined him, Haft held the staff out to her. ¡°I acquired this after an altercation in some two-horse town on the northern coast. I call her ¡®BFT¡¯ ¨C Blunt Force Trauma!¡± He paused as chuckles rose from the crowd. ¡°She has a bit of magic in her. Not much, but she served me well for a long time and cracked many a deserving skull. I¡¯d be honored if you carried it from now on.¡± The room clapped as the drow accepted the staff and embraced the smaller man in a hug. Haft subtly wiped his sleeve across his moistening eyes before they separated.


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    His eyes searched the crowd once more. ¡°Tsuta?¡± The bald monk rose and moved to stand beside his master. Haft reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out an oval brooch. It was crafted from fine silver and featured the carved image of a beetle, circled by elven glyphs. His gaze lingered on the silver pin, a wistful smile crept across his face. Shaking himself from the memories, he presented the brooch to his prot¨¦g¨¦,


    ¡°This is a Scarab of Protection. It will help keep you safe. It was passed down to me from my Sifu when I became the master of the Luminarium.¡± He broke into a smile. ¡°Now don¡¯t get the wrong idea¡­you don¡¯t get to be Sifu - I¡¯m keeping that job! But hopefully, it will come in handy in the battles ahead.¡± Once again, a chorus of applause broke out as Tsuta bowed low before retreating to his seat.


    ¡°I realize that for several of you, this is also goodbye. Please know you are always welcome here, and don¡¯t be strangers!¡± He raised his glass one final time. ¡°Now, let¡¯s eat!¡±


    Between the scarce food and the heavy workload of clearing and restoring the abbey, everyone had worked up quite an appetite. Darkness had fallen before the last bites were eaten. Seeing the half-elven wizard alone, with his spell book and parchment spread out on the floor in front of him, quill in hand, Whydah¡¯s curiosity got the better of her.


    ¡°What¡¯cha doin¡¯ Glynnie?¡± The halfling gazed down on the book of magical inscriptions the wizard was comparing to a nearby scroll.


    ¡°Just copying a couple of new spells I got from Grym¡¯s friend ¨C the draconian.¡±


    ¡°Sweet! Anything I can use as well?¡±


    The wizard stopped and raised his head.


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought about that¡­maybe! Have a look at these.¡± Returning to his transcription, he raised two scrolls into the air. Whydah studied first one, then the other.


    ¡°This one ¨C Banish ¨C won¡¯t work for me, but I think Tsuta can learn it¡­¡± She tucked the top scroll behind the second. ¡°But this one ¨C Dimension Door - looks awesome! I¡¯ll need to play around with it to make it work musically. Can I keep this?¡± Whydah asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.


    Glynfir replied without looking up. ¡°Be my guest! I¡¯ve already got those two copied. They¡¯re all yours!¡±  Whydah thanked him and padded off through the crowded mess hall in search of her bald friend.


    She found him tucked away in the corner with Bird. The two were chatting conspiratorially while surveying the room. The cat flashed her a smile before flicking his head in their direction, suggesting she join them.


    ¡°So¡­¡± the tabby dragged his words slightly until Whydah was within earshot, finishing in a hushed tone. ¡°¡­How much do they know?¡± His eyes scanned the room¡¯s occupants, vigilantly guarding the privacy of their conversation.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Tsuta replied flatly, matching Bird¡¯s volume. He idly thumbed the scarab he¡¯d recently pinned to the inside overlap of his clean, pale orange robes.


    ¡°Tsuta!¡± Whydah scolded him. ¡°You¡¯ve been here more than a year¡­and haven¡¯t told anyone?¡±


    The monk shrugged, his face expressionless. ¡°Why would I? It never came up¡­¡±


    Bird made a sound resembling a combination of laughter and purring. ¡°Of course, it didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Tsuta-people share things about themselves with others to build relationships. It¡¯s called friendship!¡± She gestured emphatically, ¡°It¡¯s okay to trust your friends ¨C it¡¯s how we all cope!¡±


    Bird did his purring chuckle again, amused by how Whydah spoke to the monk ¨C as if he were a small child.


    It was clear from Tsuta¡¯s expression that he either didn¡¯t understand or didn¡¯t agree.


    ¡°No. This is different. The fate of an entire nation is at stake. I wouldn¡¯t have even told you¡­ if you hadn¡¯t been there when they came for me in Chydamor.¡±


    ¡°So, they don¡¯t know about the medallion¡­¡± Bird nodded towards the monk¡¯s chest. ¡°...Or the emperor¡¯s wife...or even Dojyu?¡±


    ¡°Nope. None of it,¡± the monk said abruptly, shaking his head.


    ¡°You¡¯re a funny man, Stick!¡± The cat¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Where do they think you¡¯re from?¡±


    Tsuta nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, still unclear why this was important to his friends. ¡°An order in southern Glahaneth. They don¡¯t ask a lot of questions when you join a monastery¡­¡±


    Bird placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Okay¡­Well, you know your secrets are safe with us.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Whiskers.¡±


    Whydah was less accepting. ¡°Tsuta, we have no idea where all this¡­¡± She swept her hand across the crowded room. ¡°...is going to go. If they find you again, you¡¯ll put everyone in danger! Last time, you barely survived, and we both know they won¡¯t stop coming!¡± She poked her small halfling finger into his chest. ¡°They have a right to know. They¡¯re your friends, and they¡¯ll want to help you!¡±


    Whydah felt her cheeks flush and shook her head in exasperation. ¡°I was really hurt that we went through so much together, and you hadn¡¯t bothered to tell me about any of it until you had no choice!¡± She regained control of her emotions, her tone dropping. ¡°I guarantee they will be, too.¡±


    Bird laughed out loud.


    Whydah felt her heart begin to race as she rounded on him, eyes flashing. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    The cat raised his hands in surrender, leaning back into the wall. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! It just made me laugh that, here we are, a couple of thieves, lecturing a monk on effective personal relationships!¡±


    Her eyes narrowed. Raising one eyebrow in his direction, the corners of her lips curled upward as she struggled to contain a small smirk. ¡°First of all, you¡¯re the thief¡­I¡¯m a musician. And second, you weren¡¯t doing any lecturing at all¡­you were perfectly willing to let him continue as he has been!¡±


    Sensing he had successfully defused her anger, Bird smiled, nodding in apology. ¡°I stand corrected!¡±


    Whydah¡¯s eyes widened, shifting to Tsuta. ¡°I almost forgot why I came over here in the first place!¡± She handed him the scroll. ¡°Glynnie got this from the hermit. Can you cast it?¡±


    The monk scrutinized the parchment momentarily, his brow furrowed in concentration. ¡°I think so-yes. It¡¯s written for a wizard, but I can adjust it.¡± He paused as he continued to read. ¡°This will send a demon back to the lower planes ¨C permanently. That¡¯s huge! Thanks, Short Stuff!¡±


    ¡°Mmm-hmm,¡± was all she said, turning to walk away before calling over her shoulder. ¡°Tell them Tsuta! It¡¯s ok to be vulnerable with your friends!¡± Her voice was a mixture of frustration and concern.


    Bird rolled his eyes at the monk behind her back.


    ¡°Do you know what she¡¯s talking about- being ¡®vulnerable¡¯?¡±


    ¡°No clue.¡± The cat replied, ¡°I¡¯ve found it easier just to agree, and then feign ignorance if it comes up again later!¡±