“Throw you?” Iskvold repeated. “Are you crazy?”

  “No time to explain. Trust me, please—as soon as they stop, toss me right into the middle of them.”

  “Are you sure?” Iskvold asked, her expression contorted, mouth agape, she turned to Tsuta for confirmation.

  “She doesn’t weigh that much.” The bald monk shrugged as he accepted her staff, missing her implied concern entirely. The drow took a firm grip on Whydah’s collar and the waistband of her canvas pants as the halfling crouched in preparation.

  Eight Sklir, accompanied by the sour stench of sulfur, emerged from the darkness, hissing and snapping as they rushed straight toward the four adventurers and into the dense magical undergrowth. Each step through the thorns slashed the demons' legs and feet, slowing their progress, while those behind rapidly caught up, bunching them together.

  “Now!” Whydah shouted to Iskvold, and the drow heaved her friend up into the air towards the group of attackers.

  The tiny halfling flailed her arms and legs to keep herself facing forward as she sailed over the first group of demons. Those in the back row raised their spears in defense. Oh no! I forgot about the spears!

  Whydah tucked her head, speaking the single word of her spell just as the first spear tip pierced her shoulder. With a flash, she teleported back to her original position beside Segwyn. A thunderous boom clapped from her departure point in the middle of the demon ranks, rippling a wave of force across all eight creatures.

  Startled by her abrupt reappearance, Segwyn hesitated just a moment before drawing his bow and launching the black-fletched arrow to a calculated spot behind the enemy line. As soon as it left the string, a tail of silver energy streamed in its wake, and the arrow began multiplying in the air. By the time it reached its destination, one had become a conjured volley of over forty, raining down onto the Sklir, each demon’s charcoal form bristling with buried shafts. But still, they advanced.

  Tsuta tossed Iskvold her staff after she launched the halfling forward. She caught it just in time to parry an enemy spear before her feet lost contact with the forest floor.

  “Oh no, you don’t!” Glynfir flicked his wrist, countering the levitation spell.

  Back on solid ground, the drow embraced the swelling rage once more. She heard a feral roar leave her lips and watched herself wade into the fray of claws and tails, staff whirling. Her hands glowed white after the first strike cracked heavily into one creature’s shoulder, the second connecting with the outside of its hip. Pulling the staff across her chest, she shoved the demon off its feet into the thorns below. Two more immediately filled the space.

  Holding the center position between Bird and Iskvold, the bald monk was immediately on the defensive. Demons on either side rushed in with claws and spears. Tsuta ducked the first thrust before striking his opponent just above the knee. The second Sklir swept his legs out from behind, sending the monk sprawling onto his back. The creature appeared to grin, its red eyes flashing as it gripped the spear in both hands, ready to deliver a devastating second blow to his chest.

  He felt the ground rumble beneath him and noticed the demon’s expression change to one of confusion. His vision was suddenly filled with brown fur and claws. The body of an adult bear leapt over him with a roar, charging the demon. Connecting at top speed, the bear’s momentum and girth launched the Sklir like a rag doll, ten feet back into the thorns. Lunish!

  The bear’s sudden charge, occupying the attention of three attackers, gave Tsuta some much-needed space and time. Lunish, in bear form, slashed and snapped at the demons before a familiar red glow lifted her into the air. Flailing and howling in frustration, the bear’s floating form drifted twenty feet backwards, and the demons once again advanced on him.

  Scrambling to his feet, the monk fished into his pocket, extracting a flat piece of mica. The whispered words of his incantation, inaudible above the din, coincided with a sparkle of yellow as he tapped the tips of his glowing fingers in a practiced pattern onto the grey schist. With an underhanded flick of his wrist, the bald elf spun the stone into the huddle of demons. A high-pitched ringing, akin to the shattering of glass, swept through the enemy ranks, black blood trickled from the demons’ ears as several involuntarily pressed their clawed hands to the sides of their heads. Bloodied, but still standing, the demons regrouped.

  Off to his right, he heard Bird shout, ‘Four more coming!”

  Tsuta noticed the glow surrounding the hovering bear flicker and fizzle before the red matrix sprang to life in the hands of two more Sklir. The first launched an incantation onto the forest floor, causing the bed of deep thorns to disappear in a crimson flash. The second pushed its palm forward, sending a glittering cone of arcane energy raining down on him and Bird from above.

  Out of nowhere, Tsuta was suddenly staring at three of his fellow countrymen. Dressed in the black-fringed, red robes of the wizard Ryunoshin from his hometown of Dojyu, a wide grin broke out on their faces.

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  “Told you we would find you eventually!” the bald swordsman snarled.

  A cold sweat instantly drenched the back of his neck, his heart hammering in his chest. Tsuta had never experienced such an innate fear in his entire life. The monk clutched the medallion around his neck, dropped his staff, and fled.

  Bird was defiantly holding his own when the shower of red sparks rained down. Defending two attackers, he had taken a slash to the ribs and a spear to the shoulder. So far, with the help of the thorns and Tsuta’s positioning, he had prevented them from flanking him. The team’s magical barrage had taken a heavy toll on the demons, yet they were still outnumbered. I need to get on the attack. Waiting patiently for his foes to present an opening, he glanced right. Appearing from nowhere, a young tabby aristocrat and a platoon of guards were rushing towards his position through the woods. No, it can’t be!

  The cat did a double-take, squinting into the shadows, when he recognized the young noble—it was Snobble Pompington, the brat he had embarrassed long ago. The tingle of terror tightened in his chest. Bird squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. A Sklir tail spike punctured the back of his leg, and his eyes flew open, pain rippling through his nerve endings. He let out a growl and, risking another glance toward the advancing noble, found the landscape empty. Gonddamn magic!

  A rush of air over his left shoulder preceded a dull thud as a white fletched arrow sank into the chest of one of his attackers, forcing the creature to twist its torso. Just the opening he needed! He buried the katana in his left hand just below the arrow shaft, using the leverage to twist the demon in place. With the creature’s body as a shield, he spun into the second Sklir, his free sword at neck height, cleanly separating its head. Glancing around, he spied four more reinforcements joining the fray. Shouting a warning to the team, he watched his bald friend and a brown bear racing in opposite directions.

  The wizard knew the Sklir were weakened. After the piercing sound of Tsuta’s sonic shatter reached him, he could see the current group was on its last legs. He also knew there were more coming. Having just witnessed Bird drop both of his opponents, and being a gambling man, he took a chance. Hoping to save his last banish spell for one of the new arrivals, Glynfir called the magical darts to his fingertips and hurled them towards the two closest demons. This time, instead of converging on a single target, the group of four glowing arcane missiles split into pairs, colliding with both enemies. The familiar flash of energy, followed by an unnatural percussive thud, preceded both demon corpses hitting the ground.

  Iskvold had never felt more alive. The seething rage narrowed her focus. The rational passenger only had to think about what to do, and then watch each thought come to life. Freed from the restrictive thorns, the back row of attackers swarmed forward, surrounding her. Iskvold took one spear to the abdomen, but she barely noticed.

  She heard herself laugh, “Is that all you’ve got?” before lifting her blood-soaked fingers from the wound and tracing fresh red lines from her forehead, down over each eye, all the way to her chin. War paint! Returning her bloody hand to the staff, it began to spin again. The attacker to her left moved in for a second strike with its spear, howling in frustration as the shaft splintered under the force of her deflection. The howl became a gurgle when the monk pivoted forward, driving the metal cap deep into the demon’s chest.

  Channeling her Ki once more, Iskvold leapt into a spinning roundhouse kick, catching a second Sklir squarely on the chin, sending it, too, lifelessly to the ground. She sensed, more than felt, another presence behind her. The drow spun, bracing for the opponent’s strike and ready to deliver another blow. Instead, a brown bear had a demon down on its back, jaws clamped firmly on the creature’s throat. As the bear mercilessly shook its massive head, she watched the red glowing eyes go dark before its limp, gaunt form was effortlessly tossed aside.

  Segwyn was running out of visible targets, but he wasn’t complaining. After sending one arrow in Bird’s direction, it was clear the cat had things under control. Nocking another arrow, he turned toward Iskvold and Lunish to find that they too had the upper hand. Finally settling on the only demon still standing, the ranger slowed his breathing and took careful aim. He let fly and saw the creature’s head snap back, the arrow protruding directly from its eye socket.

  Though he heard Bird’s warning, the reinforcements were not yet in sight. Given the brief reprieve, Segwyn took a deep breath and turned to Whydah with a smile. The color drained from his face when he saw the state of his halfling companion. Her skin was ashen, and her breathing shallow. Two crude, black spears were embedded in her body, one below her collarbone, the other just above her hip. The ranger immediately dropped his bow, cursing under his breath. How did I not notice she was injured? Working quickly, he began weaving his fingers in the air, muttering the incantation until a pink crackle sprang to life surrounding his right hand.

  Taking hold of the first shaft, he muttered, “I’m sorry, but this is gonna hurt,” before pulling it free.

  Her blood flowing freely from the puncture into the surrounding soil, Whydah howled in pain until he covered the wound with his glowing palm. The pink arcane tendrils threaded off his fingers and into her side. She let out a gasp followed by a ragged chuckle as the magic’s euphoria coursed through her, and the gash began to close. Segwyn cast the spell again, repeating the process with the second spear, watching some of the color return to her face.

  The halfling struggled into a sitting position.

  “I might need one more of those...” She pointed a weak up nod toward his free hand, “…if you can spare it?”

  The elven ranger nodded with a smile, “You had me worried there for a minute!” before delivering one more dose of the pink healing energy. As the third spell faded, he added, “What you did back there was pretty ballsy. I didn’t know you had it in you!”

  She chuckled from a combination of the magic and his words, “And you thought I was just another pretty face!”

  From the area of the battlefield, Iskvold let out a roar before charging forward into the darkness, bear and cat hot on her heels.

  Glynfir called after them, shaking his head, “Iskvold—wait!” before reluctantly giving chase. Segwyn turned back to Whydah.

  “You good?”

  “Good enough, let’s go!”

  The ranger helped her to her feet, and they took off after their friends.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma?

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