Another golem was idling by the wall, bigger and darker than the stone ones guarding the library. Harrim straightened his armour, smoothed his beard down, and spat into his palms with apparent glee. However, this time Guelder had her doubts about unmaking it, just so, in a situation where they were about to face a powerful enemy, with limited access to magic.

  "Wait!" she snapped, keeping her tone low. "I fear we have been acting rash around these constructs. I wonder if we could not harness the power of this golem and turn it against Nyrissa. Harrim, Linzi, do you think there is a chance we could do that?"

  "Perhaps," said the dwarf, "if it isn't already programmed to attack any intruder without distinction. Once the defence protocol is triggered, the best I can do is unmake it."

  "Fair enough. Let us make an experiment, then."

  Guelder sent a mental command to Pangur to go and test the golem's defences. Crouching down, the leopard prowled up to the construct and nuzzled its feet. Nothing happened, except for some whirring noise coming from its chest. A playful paw swipe led to the same result.

  "It seems friendly enough," established Linzi. "At least compared to its stone friends. Hazel, can you please lift me up so I can take a closer look?"

  Perching on Hazel's shoulders, she approached the construct, checked it out from all directions, poked at it with different pieces of her trap disarm toolkit, tapped at what must have been its sensors.

  "By Shelyn's holy name," she mumbled to herself. "Could it be that this golem is made of cold iron? Is that why the fey couldn't repurpose it?"

  "I do not think that is technologically feasible," countered Jaethal, casting a challenging look at Harrim. "An arrowhead, even a sword, yes, but an entire golem?"

  "Never underestimate dwarven craftsmanship," grumbled the cleric. "My kin is hellbent on making things others think impossible to make. As if their handiwork weren't about to perish alongside the rest of the world. As if it made any difference."

  "Today, it actually could," said Guelder. "If we can control it, that is."

  Linzi was now scratching at the side of the golem's head with a screwdriver.

  "Crystals in the earhole," she muttered. "What could that mean?"

  "A voice-controlled model, obviously," explained the dwarf, sounding strangely offended that this was not common knowledge among his companions. "That means you need to utter a password to activate it. Loud and purposeful."

  "Oh, that's easy, then!" Linzi made a funnel out of her hands, and exclaimed, loudly and purposefully: "Woradash!"

  The golem didn't stir. However, three small purple crystals came alight above its earhole. One of them winked out immediately, the rest only a few seconds later.

  "That didn't work," admitted Linzi.

  "Of course it did not," scoffed Jaethal. "One does not use their clan's name as a password. That would be a major security risk."

  "Then let's see... how about... Torag!"

  The crystals lit up again. Two of them winked out, the last one remained lit for a bit longer.

  "The same stands for the deity worshipped by one's clan," remarked Jaethal. "As hard as it may be, we should accept as our premise that the dwarven lords of this fortress were not completely dumb. What use is a password that any random adventurer has a chance to guess?"

  "Then how about –"

  "Linzi?" interrupted Hazel. "Based on the number and behaviour of the crystals, I think you only have three attempts. You have been wrong twice. Perhaps you should not waste our last chance. If you do, at best, we will not be able to start the golem anymore. At worst, it will classify us as trespassers and attack us, which is bad because I am standing within punching range."

  "Fine," said the bard, a little deflated. "But how can we figure out the password, if not by trial and error?"

  "Steal ironshank now, play with it later?" suggested Nok-Nok.

  "Definitely," said Guelder, putting an end to the entire tomfoolery. "Thanks, Nok-Nok."

  She made a mental note about Ironshank being a nice name. On the off-chance they could put the golem to work, and it served her well, she would consider keeping it as a feyproof addition to the palace guard, and in this case, she would definitely have to name it.

  And so it happened that Linzi, standing on Hazel's shoulders, plopped the Bag of Holding on the golem's head, pulling its edge downwards until the giant construct disappeared in it. Guelder hoped they could puzzle out during their next rest how their new weapon worked, and then they would face Nyrissa armed with this knowledge (and a pair of iron fists, in the literal sense of the word).

  The time for said rest approached after the team took care of a few more dweomercats and redcaps. There were only two chambers left undiscovered. One hidden behind a secret entrance, the other at the end of a spacious corridor, an impressive double door marking it as the heart of the keep. If Nyrissa intended to grant her a personal audience, it would be there. So Guelder decided to discover the hidden room, then rest up and prepare for the showdown.

  The secret entrance led into a book storage room, so small that it couldn't even hold the entire team. Jaethal stayed outside to keep watch, lest a companion got impaled on her scythe. Pangur, uninterested in ancient knowledge, and Nok-Nok, downright terrified of books, kept her company, while the others explored the claustrophobic little space. Shelves upon shelves of books were crammed in there, left behind by the dwarven garrison, probably boring for the fey but still too precious to be left lying around where the fledgling barbarian could reach them. Guelder looked forward to adding them to the Tuskdale palace's collection. One day she would expand it into a real library, housed in a building of its own.

  It felt a bit weird to plan her next investment in the barony's cultural life while balancing on Hazel's shoulders, clinging to a bookshelf with one hand and holding onto Linzi's ankles with the other, all the while wondering why the dwarves even built their rooms so high.

  "What do you see up there, Linzi?" she asked.

  "A good armful of magic scrolls," chirped Linzi, precariously teetering on Guelder's shoulders. "And a big fat book, too."

  "Could you hurry up, Linzi?" growled Hazel down there. "This room stinks so bad it is getting hard to breathe."

  "Ah, good to hear your nose has been healed!" chattered the bard. "Let me just scoop them up and –"

  "Achoo!"

  "Aaaah!"

  As Hazel's body flinched with an almighty sneeze, Guelder lost her balance, and the tower built of people collapsed, taking down the bookshelf, too. With Hazel holding her ankles in a strong grip, Guelder had no chance to use her cat instincts and control her fall. She crashed into a rickety table, breaking it with the impact, and landed on the floor, bruised and winded, a hailstorm of books raining down on her. The bookshelf hit the opposite wall and stayed there at a lopsided angle, sparing them from worse injuries but shedding all its contents upon them.

  "Thanks for catching me, Harrim!" giggled Linzi somewhere. "Look! I got the big book regardless... Eeeww! Let's get out of here!"

  Then Guelder felt it, too. The pollen invading her senses in the burrows had been nothing compared to the revolting smell of rotten, mouldy dust puffing into the air from the fallen books. Probably a hitherto unknown type of fungus... but this time the baroness was not in the mood for discovering new life forms. Once she regained her ability to breathe after the fall, the spores filled her lungs, her sinuses, her mouth, her stomach, her eyes. She scrambled to sit up, scattering a few ancient volumes, just in time to see Hazel work themself up to all fours, wheezing, retching, deathly pale. Spitting and sneezing, trying to rid her airways of the disgusting stuff, she crawled over to her friend and positioned herself under their arm, helped them up, and dragged them out of the room. Old parchment ripped and crunched under their feet, but she couldn't care less. These books couldn't be handled without powerful protective spells, anyway, and they would require thorough sanitation before they could be added to her library. Or maybe it would be best to burn them all, knowledge be damned.

  Jaethal raised an eyebrow at their misery, but she had the decency not to laugh. Linzi dabbed at her eyes with a heavily used handkerchief, happily flipping through her bounty.

  "Harrim! Come check this out! Is this not the golem's user manual?"

  Guelder couldn't share in the bard's joy, since Hazel's body reacted exceptionally badly to the nauseating dust. They were bent over, struggling for breath, all sorts of bodily fluids dripping from their orifices, their hand fumbling to hold onto Guelder before they collapsed. The baroness instinctively pushed a little healing energy into them, oblivious of the unpredictability of magic. Either it didn't work or it just wasn't the right spell, but Hazel's lips were turning blue, their free hand clawing at their throat, their eyes bulged as their lungs were fighting for another breath.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "Help!" she rattled, roared, wheezed. Her voice sounded worse than under the full moon. Still, at least she succeeded in making Linzi and Harrim abandon the golem manual and hurry over to give whatever aid they could. The bard rifled through the scrolls she'd looted from the storage room, frantically muttering to herself, while Harrim let loose a surge of healing energy. It was enough to restore Guelder's ability to speak, but didn't make much difference for Hazel. With trembling hands, the baroness soaked a piece of cloth with water from her canteen and pressed it against Hazel's throat, hoping against hope that it would help with the swelling inside. The ranger's fingers dug painfully into her flesh, clinging to her, their last anchor fastening them to life.

  "I am here, Hazel," she whispered in Elven, tears rolling down her cheek. "I am here. With you."

  For all the good that did to them.

  A coughing fit shook Hazel's body, yellowish froth dripping from their lips onto the flagstones, then they grew frighteningly still. Guelder's fingers brushed against their neck, feeling for their pulse. She had trouble finding anything.

  Someone laid a hand on her shoulder. She didn't look up, her gaze fixed on Hazel's half-open eyes.

  "I have had the missing onyxes replaced on Throe's hilt," said Jaethal's soft voice. "And I brought an extra handful as well. In case you want your friend back, I am more than happy to help. Just say the word."

  Guelder bit her tongue to stop herself from throwing some elaborate obscenity at Jaethal, and shook her head. She wanted them alive and wasn't ready to settle for anything else.

  "Linzi?" she called, trying to keep her voice even. "Any luck with the scrolls? Time is running out."

  The halfling, immersed in observing the emotional scene and probably composing a ballad or whatnot, was now startled to her senses.

  "Erm... yes! I think this is it! Remove Disease. Three of them. That should do the trick, right?"

  "READ IT!"

  The bard began to read the incantation from the scroll in her hands, but Guelder was not paying attention anymore. An incoming Sending spell was hammering on the door of her consciousness, hitherto pushed into the background by her struggle for Hazel's life. She refused to budge from beside her friend's body. Trembling with anguish, she closed her eyes to have some semblance of privacy, and let the message in.

  An old cleric appeared in front of her eyes, dressed in a simple garb, with a bow and a quiver across his back. He seemed nervous, just as nervous as Guelder herself.

  Baroness, Kassil and Amiri arrived at the Flintrock Grassland. Waiting for you to join us with your army. Make haste. The battle can happen anytime.

  The world turned with Guelder as the implications sank in with her. It felt like an impossible task to reply in 25 words. She had to find out more. He couldn't mean that... or could he?

  "Father Keeg? I will do what I can to speed things up. Try to buy some time until I can get my troops to Glenebon and... Bloody brambles!"

  The curse did very little to relieve her frustration.

  She caught Jaethal's cold stare directed at her, silently reprimanding her for losing control over her emotions. Guelder glowered back, but deep inside she knew Jaethal was right. She had to stay level-headed and not spread panic in the team before the final clash.

  Linzi finished reading the second scroll, after the first attempt failed.

  Ever so slightly, Hazel's chest rose and fell under Guelder's hand. As she looked down at their pale face, the marks left by her claws across their cheek now highlighted in an angry pink, she saw the colour slowly return to it.

  "See?" she whispered. "Everything will be fine."

  Everything but Lady Jamandi's army in Glenebon.

  Hazel's consciousness floated outside and above their body, watching the poor ranger writhe in agony in their beloved baroness's arms. For a moment, they panicked. Were they dead? Dying? But no, this was just an old self-protection reflex of their mind they'd unconsciously developed in their early years, for situations where the pain and humiliation was too much to bear. As they realised what was going on, their panic turned into calm observation. Against all reason, Hazel trusted that Guelder would keep their ailing body safe, or if not, this was as good a way to die as any (although the sight of Jaethal whispering into Guelder's ear was a little disturbing).

  What Hazel wished for at the moment was a glimpse of the future. Perhaps they would not make it to the final clash, but they wanted to know what awaited their companions. Could they leave their suffering body behind and see what they could learn?

  They found they could. Time travel was not something they could accomplish by sheer willpower, but a simple scouting mission was well within their abilities.

  Disembodied, Hazel slipped through the corridors, finally not having to worry about traps or enemies, not stopping until they reached the big double door. Then they realised they didn't need to stop there, either: they simply oozed through it, without even bothering to touch the handle.

  Two big, motionless shapes lumbered inside. Golems. Also smaller, restless, capering shapes. Redcaps. And a few distinct figures that didn't belong to either category.

  First of all, a Defaced Sister. A chill went down the mental equivalent of Hazel's spine. The Sisters had never had an opportunity to deploy all their magical arsenal against Guelder's team, but based on what Hazel sensed now, the baroness had been exceptionally lucky to avoid an all-out battle with them. But that was still the lesser evil.

  There was another female fey, too: an even more powerful presence, her appearance roughly corresponding to Guelder's description of Nyrissa. Leaves sprouting from green skin, wafts of the most enticing scents of nature, a cold, predatory kind of beauty Hazel couldn't help but admire. Thankfully, her attention was concentrated on the Sister, not on the wayward consciousness prowling around her.

  Finally, Hazel spotted a lonely shape kneeling in a corner, with his back to the others, and a sudden surge of hatred washed over them.

  "Tristian?"

  The figure didn't react. Meh, that would have been too much to ask for. Apparently, the cleric was scared for his life (as well he should be, like the sneaky little traitor he was), but he didn't seem as miserable as Hazel expected. Perhaps Guelder was right, and Tristian had finally made his choice. Anyway, regardless of Hazel's opinion, he would soon be welcomed back to the team. They had better come to terms with that. Still, they hoped very much that he would have some sense of propriety and stomp out his feelings for Guelder once and for all. She deserved better than a traitor.

  Focused on their runaway companion, Hazel cringed as a pair of burning embers scorched their way into them. Nyrissa spotted them, and was now watching. Hazel turned, no, refocused their attention to face her, doing their best to act nonchalant.

  My falcon... You came. I guess the Hound is not far behind, either. Am I right?

  Hazel didn't answer. They'd gotten themself deep enough in trouble by bargaining with the old gnome who was not a gnome. The last thing they needed was to get into a similar pickle with Nyrissa. They just floated there, mesmerised by those burning, cruel eyes, careful not to give away anything.

  Oh. Resting in her arms, are you? How cute. And what a fool you are, coming here to snoop instead of indulging into her closeness, feeling her warmth, relishing this one and unrepeatable moment she doesn't ignore or outright reject you. As if this were a start, not an end.

  Hazel clenched their... well, their entire being in helpless rage. But before they could retort, insisting that their love for Guelder did have a chance and they would never give up, the room around them ceased to exist, like a popping bubble, and their soul plummeted back into their body.

  They opened their eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing their cramped jaw. Their throat felt raw and their stomach was roiling, but they were definitely alive. And Guelder was kneeling by their side, smiling with relief, her cheeks damp with tears. Hazel smiled back, closing their eyes for a spell, treasuring the moment... and the soft, warm kiss on their forehead they hadn't dared to hope for.

  As if this were a start, not an end.

  Damn that nymph to hell. How could she poison even these fleeting moments of happiness?

  "Hey, Hazel is back!" cheered the little bard.

  "It is good you did not have to be reanimated, after all," remarked Jaethal with a wry smile. "In this way, I can save those onyxes for a more worthwhile purpose."

  "Thanks, everyone," said Hazel weakly. "I did some recon while passed out. As we suspected, Nyrissa is behind the big double door, with a Defaced Sister and Tristian. And also a few redcaps and golems."

  Guelder blinked in surprise. "Nice job, Hazel. I have no idea how you pulled that off, but you have my thanks." Then she lowered her gaze in embarrassment, connecting the dots. "I am sorry."

  "No need for that," said Hazel. "What is the plan? Rest up and attack?"

  "No," said Guelder. "We cannot rest now. We shall make do with our weapons and our scrolls, recover Tristian, and be on our way to Glenebon as soon as possible. Along with the army."

  "WHAT?" Hazel gasped in surprise. "You mean Kassil left without the army? How?"

  "Let me check on Harrim and the golem," said the baroness, leaving their question unanswered. Perhaps she didn't have the answer herself. "He has been making good progress, after Linzi found the password in the manual. Once he is ready, we attack right away."