The arrival of fresh supplies from the neighbors meant the abbey’s occupants were no longer forced to sleep collectively on the dojo mat in the mess hall. Sifu Haft insisted that, for one night, their guests enjoy the new mats and the private quarters usually assigned to the monks. Despite the privacy, Lunish found herself tossing and turning in anticipation of another engagement with the demons. The evening was warm, but not enough to justify the damp cling of her nightshirt. As her mind raced and she gazed at the stone ceiling, another thought pushed to the forefront. We haven’t updated Snuggles! Maybe she can help.
The gnome sat up and stretched for her pack, fishing out the sending stone. After briefly crafting her message, Lunish gripped the stone and focused her mind.
Snuggles, Luminarium attack made by Sklir demons—leader unknown. More detected in Siremirian foothills nearby. Pursuing with small group. Please send help and intelligence.
She let out a deep breath.
I have so much more to tell them, but that will have to do for now.
She hoped they would understand the implication. Beings from the lower planes can’t just wander around the prime material plane at will. Someone or something much more powerful had to be pulling the strings.
It was another hour before she finally fell into a restless sleep.
Daybreak was overcast and muted—the kind that crept in little by little, without the grand announcement of a sunrise. Already hard at work outside the abbey’s courtyard, the Blades had packed up camp, poised to return to Eredmire. Segwyn was tightening the buckle on his pack when Halisk approached with a fistful of arrows.
“You sure about this—heading into hostile territory with a group of unknowns?”
The ranger smirked, a low grunt escaping his lips. “I’m sure. It’s the right decision for Eredmire and for me, personally.”
Halisk’s head recoiled slightly, and her brow furrowed. “For you? You’re a well-respected officer of the Verdant Blades, the best I’ve ever served with. You don’t have anything to prove!”
He clasped her shoulder, his smirk softening into a smile of appreciation. “Maybe not to you…and this is your chance to show off your leadership skills. It may only be interim until I get back, but it's valuable experience nonetheless.”
She blushed. “Thanks for the opportunity; I really appreciate it. And I’ve made my first decision as the new field commander.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
She thrust the handful of arrows forward, bumping her closed fist playfully against his chest. “Take these. You’ll need them more than we will, and I can get more when we’re back.”
Segwyn looked down at the dozen wooden shafts, adorned with blue and black fletching.
“Thanks—I appreciate it.” He chuckled, “Just be prepared for some objection from the armory.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Any other final words of wisdom?”
He slipped the quiver off his shoulder and stored the gifted arrows. “Two things, though I’m sure you’ve already thought of them. Send the resupply caravan to the abbey as soon as you get back and have someone ride to the Shan. Let them know what’s happened to the abbey and their scout.” He paused. “Oh, and keep an eye on Neril. I think he’s reconsidering his decision to join the Blades.”
“Will do!” She pulled him into a hug. “We'd better be getting back. I’m sure the other teams aren’t happy with the extra hours since we left! Take care of yourself, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Thanks, and good luck!”
Halisk turned, whistling to the rest of the group and circling her index finger in the air. With a final wave, they headed down the tree-lined road toward Eredmire. Segwyn watched them go for several minutes before shouldering his pack and entering the abbey.
The mess was busier than he expected at this early hour. The communal dojo mat was empty. Only piles of rumpled linen told of its earlier occupation. The smell of warm biscuits wafted from the kitchen, mixing with the ever-present smell of wood smoke. Bird nodded in greeting and dusted off his hands, having added a log to the fire. Whydah and Tsuta sat at the table with steaming mugs, their packs propped against a nearby wall.
As Segwyn crossed the room to join them, Iskvold burst through the kitchen door carrying a basket of wrapped parcels, flour dust barely visible against her pale skin.
“You bake too?” he asked, surprised.
“I wouldn’t go that far. It’s mostly Esmi, but I helped!” she said proudly. “And now we have packed lunches!” She tipped her head towards the kitchen. “There’s tea if you want.”
“Thanks, I think I will. Anyone seen Lunish and Glynfir? We should get going soon.”
The others shook their heads in response before the door opened behind the ranger, and the yawning wizard ambled into the mess hall.
“I don’t know if it’s been too many nights sleeping rough, but I’d almost forgotten how uncomfortable it is.” He stretched his arms wide. “That mat was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while!” He noticed the pile of luggage and asked, surprised, “You guys are already packed?”
“Good morning, sunshine.” Whydah trilled before Bird jumped in, unable to resist the opportunity.
“What does ‘first thing in the morning’ mean to you, wizard?” he joked.
Glynfir paused, reflecting for a moment. “I’ve always interpreted that as ‘after I wake up but definitely before lunch’. You know—the first thing you do in the morning.”
“You’re gonna need to work on that.” Iskvold rolled her eyes as the mess door flew open again, and Lunish hurried in, out of breath.
She felt her cheeks flush when she saw the rest of the group, including the notoriously unreliable Glynfir, already gathered. “Sorry, I’m late. I had a hard time sleeping last night.”
“Well, well, well…” the wizard teased her. “Nice of you to finally join us!”
“Don’t bullshit me, Glynnie, you aren’t even packed!” she fired back, before adding, “I did hear back from Snuggles though.”
“Snuggles?” Tsuta asked, confused.
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Lunish explained how they had assigned a name and gender to their disembodied handler at the Hub and described the message she had sent the night before.
“So, what did she say? Tell us every word!” Glynfir prompted excitedly.
The gnome closed her eyes in recollection. “The message was: Sweetheart, will notify the Shan. See if the names Crimson Dominion or the Red Queen resonate. Report back soon. Be careful and good luck.” She opened her eyes and scanned the room. “Do either of those names mean anything to anyone?”
The group looked quizzically at each other, shaking their heads.
“Pinky, you’re the scholar around here,” Tsuta called out. “Nothing?”
Iskvold’s expression was blank. “I’m not aware of any monarch in Venn that goes by ‘the Red Queen’, and I’ve never heard of the Crimson Dominion. I’ll ask Sifu to do some Vault work while we’re gone. Maybe he’ll find something.”
Lunish shrugged. “Okay, it was worth a shot.” She turned to the wizard. “Go get your stuff, Glynnie, so we can go!”
“Okay, okay!” The wizard’s shoulders drooped as he padded out of the room.
“Where are we going?” Bird asked no one in particular. “How do we find them?”
Segwyn straightened his stance, looking around at the group, offering others the chance to speak before sharing his thoughts. Iskvold accepted the unspoken invitation.
“I say we head up to the Northern outpost. Start there. They went out of their way to destroy it and then headed through the Gap. So, maybe we’ll be able to see something?” She shrugged, scanning the room for opinions. Several heads nodded in return.
“That would have been my suggestion as well,” Segwyn agreed.
“Works for me.” Bird stood up. “And thanks to the abbey for the packed lunches!” The tabby grabbed one of the parcels and stowed it away, slinging his pack over his shoulder in one fluid motion.
The others followed suit, with the druid picking up an extra for Glynfir as they mobilized toward the courtyard. The sound of the wizard’s impractical footwear echoed down the corridor as he raced to join them. When he stepped into the courtyard, Bird pressed a pair of monk’s boots against his chest.
“Thank me later,” was all he said.
Sifu and the initiates joined the group outside the abbey, wishing them well as the adventurers departed for the northern outpost.
The sun fought to break through the cloud cover as they pressed through the high grass, with Tsuta and Iskvold taking the lead. Birdsong regularly broke through the forest’s white noise by the time they reached the bottom of the Beacon’s plateau. From this vantage point, it appeared just as the pair of monks had left it. Ascending the staircase, however, quickly confirmed the ranger’s earlier account.
“Is this what the other two looked like?” Iskvold called out to Tsuta across the plateau while the bald elf examined the pile of bricks that had been the Beacon.
“Identical.” Tsuta rose, pointing the tip of his staff towards the blackened husk of a building. “Shelter was torched, beacon destroyed, but they left the flares.”
Bird stepped into the shelter’s remains, crouching to examine the interior.
“It looks like it burned from the inside out. The interior is completely charred, but some outside boards are undamaged.” The cat stepped back out. He tapped his claw against unburned sections of the exterior siding as he circled the dwelling.
“That makes sense, actually,” Glynfir suggested from his position on the overlook. “I’ll bet they used the same spell as they did on Grym’s chain shirt and your swords to ignite the fire…that’s probably how they lit up the abbey too.”
Iskvold nodded. “That would explain why some areas were totally consumed, like the transcription room, while others were virtually untouched—there was no metal to heat.”
“Okay, but I still come back to how the demons got here,” Segwyn pondered.
He turned to Tsuta. “Where did you find the ladybugs at the other beacons?”
The bald monk led Segwyn, Glynfir, and Lunish to the rear of the outpost plateau, circling his open hand around an area less than ten feet from the beacon’s original position.
“About here, I’d say.”
Segwyn stepped past the monk to the edge of the plateau, peering down at the steep grade choked with trees and brambles.
“No way they climbed through that without being heard.” He turned back to the group, looking specifically at Glynfir. “So, let’s say Tsuta is right, and they were magically dropped here. What spell could do that—Teleport?”
The wizard thought for a moment and shook his head. “I don’t think so, unless they were already on this plane. The only one I know of that can transport creatures from one plane to a destination on another is Plane Gate.”
Tsuta nodded. “I’m familiar with that one, too, but it’s only accessible to the holiest of casters.”
The wizard confirmed. “Same here. It’s way beyond anything I can do! From what I do know, spells at that level can only be cast once per day, so if we think it was used on both beacons at the same time-”
“Three beacons,” Tsuta interrupted. “I sensed casting here as well. It just didn’t work for whatever reason.”
Glynfir’s eyes went wide. “That would mean three very powerful wizards or clerics had to work together to pull this off!”
The sound of Iskvold’s voice, shouting from the overlook, broke up their conversation.
“Uh…guys…I think we’ve got movement!”
The four rushed to the stone balcony to join Whydah, Bird, and Iskvold as they gazed through the Gap.
“Where?” Tsuta asked.
“About a mile up, near the second bend.” The drow pointed off into the distance.
All seven stood in silence, their eyes fixed on the road. Less than a minute later, a familiar black form leaped onto the trail’s surface from the south. It turned its head in their direction, pausing momentarily before loping north, into the woods.
The drow turned to the group. “That’s the second one, both traveling in the same direction. That looked an awful lot like a Sklir to me. What do you guys think?”
“It certainly moves like one,” Bird agreed. “Do we go after them?”
“I’d like to know where they’re going,” Segwyn cautioned. “We still have no idea what they’re up to.” He looked at Tsuta and Iskvold. “What’s over there?”
The bald elf shook his head. “Nothing but woods and mountains.”
Iskvold added, “All the Siremirian settlements are along the river. Otherwise, only nomadic tribes of gnolls and orcs. It isn’t called the Wildlands for nothing.”
“What could they possibly be doing?” Segwyn searched his friends' faces for an answer.
The group was silent until the druid spoke, her voice hesitant and strained, barely above a whisper.
“I-I could fly over there…as an owl… and watch them from the trees.” She regretted the suggestion even before she finished speaking.
“Are you sure, Lulu?” Glynfir asked. “You’d be all alone.”
“No, I’m not sure!” She snapped back at him. “Just the idea of it scares the hell out of me!” Her tone softened, “But I’ll do it unless one of you has a better idea?”
No one did.
Tsuta broke the silence. “How will you find them?”
“I’ll use a locate spell on their spears. They will ping within a thousand feet.”
The gnome quickly searched the nearby ground, retrieving a forked twig, and used it to cast her spell before shifting into a great-horned owl. Hopping onto the overlook railing, her avian form shook erratically despite the warm morning air. Giving them one last long look, she launched herself from the precipice.
They watched her glide slowly on the rising currents toward the demons’ last location for several minutes before the owl dipped below the canopy out of sight.
“How long can she hold that form?” Tsuta asked Glynfir.
“Three hours, max. Not much to do but wait.”
The sun’s glow behind the cloud cover moved higher, and the wind picked up as they watched for any sign of the druid’s return.
“Anyone got eyes?” Segwyn asked as he scanned the top of the canopy for any movement.
Whydah’s stomach was in knots with worry. Perhaps it was their similar stature or supportive casting role within the group, but she felt a bond with Lunish. She could also empathize with how the woman must be feeling. The last encounter hadn’t gone particularly well for her, and this time, she was alone. What if they detect her or she loses her form? Either would mean almost certain death.
“Nothing yet,” she reported, using her hand to shield her eyes from the overhead light.
Glynfir stepped onto the overlook next to her, his face creased in concern as he gazed at the sun’s position. “She’s cutting it really close.”
“I think I see her!” Tsuta exclaimed, pointing north of her entry point, as a shape burst from the canopy below, climbing higher, towards the outpost. A cheer went up as they watched the owl come into focus. Her wings struggled to maintain course, buffeted by the rising wind. As the bird came within two hundred feet, the onlookers visibly relaxed, and casual chatter broke out as they awaited her landing.
Their elation quickly turned to gasps of despair.
In a flash of green light, the owl’s form shifted. Lunish, a stunned look on her face, hung momentarily in midair one hundred and fifty feet from the outpost balcony. Following the transformation, her forward momentum stalled, and she immediately plummeted toward the rocky ground below. The wizard’s hand sparked with arcane energy as he desperately hurled the same spell in her direction that he used with the catapults, knowing the distance was too great. The tips of two red braids were the last things to disappear below the overlook’s stone railing.
The Glimmerstone Enigma?
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