Tsuta came to a halt in a stand of alders. The sound of combat drifted in from behind him. The smell of rich loam filled his nose as his head cleared. His pulse slowed, and the knot in his stomach began to unravel. The last thing I remember is the Shogun’s henchmen. The unsettling feeling of dread momentarily returned as he spun on his heel, scanning in all directions. But that’s ridiculous. There’s no way they could find me here. Then it hit him. Demon magic! Shaking his head, disappointed and somewhat embarrassed, he scampered back toward the battle, doubling his pace as Iskvold’s roar echoed through the forest.

  Perched on a tree limb, unnoticed in the darkness, Nar’zl’s large, jet-black eyes watched intently as the battle raged nearby. He was average size for a quasit—no bigger than a housecat, but more closely resembled a cross between a lizard and an insect, born in a nightmare. Green leathery skin dappled with hard black studs covered his entire body, aside from his white underbelly. Twin horns curved upward, symmetrically from his bat-like head. His lip quivered into a snarl as he watched the group overcome the main demon force, exposing a tiny but nasty set of jagged teeth. Even his long tail, that he’d tucked behind himself so deliberately to remain still, began to flit in annoyance. Remembering his instructions, Nar’zl checked himself. Mistress would be very unhappy if he got disappeared trying to help the Sklir. She will most certainly want to know about the fleshers interrupting her business. The quasit couldn’t tell Mistress, however, until she spoke in her magical, silent way, inside his head.

  Glynfir raced across the wooded hillside after his friends. Iskvold arrived first, wading immediately into the four demons like a woman possessed, the metal cap on her staff trailing sparks every time it scraped a stone on the forest floor. He watched her take a spear to the shoulder and a tail strike to her ribs without breaking stride.

  Lunish got there next, barreling into one of the Sklir, knocking it to the ground before thrashing at it with her claws. The creature tried to levitate the bear, raising it a few feet into the air. The wizard promptly countered the spell. The demon grunted as the bear’s full weight landed squarely onto its chest.

  He couldn’t even see Bird. One minute the tabby was running alongside the others, the next he was just…gone. Glynfir was momentarily concerned until he saw the cat dash out from behind a tree, opportunistically plunging his katana into the back of another demon that had turned to engage Lunish.

  Glynfir pulled up thirty feet behind the melee, already gripping the drow’s holy symbol, and found his target. The red arcane energy was dancing around its fingertips. Glynfir quickly spoke the words and directed a shower of white sparks toward the demon. Upon arrival, thousands of motes morphed into ribbons of energy circling the creature’s lithe charcoal form, and with a soft flash, it was gone, banished back to the lower planes. That left three on three.

  The sound of footfalls behind him made the wizard spin in alarm. The rapidly forming knot in his stomach quickly unwound at the sight of a hustling Segwyn, carrying Whydah through the darkness, the bald monk trailing only a few feet behind.

  Tsuta flicked his wrist toward an overhead branch, bathing the melee in an eerie spotlight, and stepped fluidly into rhythm with Iskvold. From there, the group rapidly dispatched the three remaining Sklir. Lunish took the worst of it, suddenly losing her bear form following an inspired claw and spear assault. Recalling the fireside advice received two nights previous, the gnome scuttled back to join the rear guard while Bird and Tsuta provided cover.

  When the last pair of red eyes went dark, Nar’zl let out a disgusted huff, darting along his perch in the opposite direction. Launching himself from the limb, he effortlessly shifted into a bat and fluttered off into the night. Mistress will not be happy about the orange-skinned fleshers and their pet bear interrupting her search with their long sticks. She will surely make them pay with their lives before sending more searchers. The quasit desperately hoped she wouldn’t take it out on him, though ultimately, he knew the truth. All Nar’zl had to do now was wait for her to check in.

  The group caught their breath beneath the glow of Tsuta’s light spell, a dimly lit oasis in the sea of rugged mountain darkness.

  “My Gond, was that ever satisfying!” Iskvold announced, flopping into a sitting position, and suddenly aware of multiple injuries she didn’t recall receiving. The tabby joined her on the ground, and the rest quickly followed suit, happy for a brief rest after the intensity of battle.

  “Some of the best-executed half-assery I’ve ever been a part of!” Bird’s chuckle became a wince, his hand rising to his ribs, “And I’ve seen more than my share.”

  “Yes, well done, everyone. That went better than anticipated,” Lunish admitted. “Now, who’s hurt?”

  The druid rubbed her hands together, and the aura of green energy crackled to life.

  “Yes, please!” Iskvold groaned while Bird raised his hand in the air.

  “I can help as well,” Segwyn said, shifting closer to the tabby.

  “I’m covered.” Tsuta’s hands were already glowing as he tended his wounds.

  “Are you not injured, Lulu?” Glynfir asked. “You took quite a few shots as a bear.”

  The gnome retained her focus on Iskvold, waving one hand dismissively above her head, “No, the form itself took the damage. That’s why I shifted back unexpectedly near the end.”

  “You kicked ass as a bear tonight!” Iskvold complimented her between giggles brought on by the healing magic. “And how about our little halfling—getting tossed right into the pack of demons and lowering the boom!”

  Tsuta turned to Whydah, “Yes, what made you think of that, Tiny? I’ve never seen you do that before.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Whydah felt the heat rise in her cheeks and squirmed uncomfortably. “I dunno. That spell is usually for escaping from a tight spot. When you teleport away, it delivers a thunder shock to everyone nearby.” She shrugged, “I was trying to think of how I could hurt a bunch of them at once, and it just kinda came to me. Why not take the thunder to them, instead of waiting for them to come to me?”

  “It was brilliant!” Segwyn beamed.

  Bird’s eyes narrowed, “But a little reckless…”

  The halfling rubbed her still tender hip.

  “Isn’t that the definition of well-executed half-assery, though? I did forget about the spears. That wasn’t pleasant.”

  That got a chuckle from everyone except Bird. A prickling sense of anxiety tingled in his brain. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something bothered him about Whydah putting herself at risk like that, no matter how genius the maneuver.

  Lunish held Iskvold’s head in her hands. “Did you get hit in the head?”

  “I don’t think so,” she replied, slightly confused.

  “Then what’s all this about?” The druid’s fingers traced the lines of dried blood down Iskvold’s cheeks.

  The drow stammered, slightly confused, “I…I’m not sure…”

  “It’s rage, isn’t it?” Tsuta asked flatly. “When did it start?”

  Her cheeks flushed as her head snapped to the bald monk, “Wha…How did you know?”

  Tsuta and Bird shared a look, but it was Whydah that answered.

  “There was a half-orc we used to run with, a guy named Blak’eh. He was a full-on barbarian. Every time we got into a fight, he would snap, just like you did tonight.” Recounting the memory made her shake her head in disbelief. “He was an absolute beast. It didn’t even register when he got hit. It was like he became a different person.”

  “Yes! That’s what I’ve been experiencing since the attack on the abbey! It’s like I’m watching someone else from inside my head!”

  The drow sighed, her shoulders slumping as she closed her eyes, still giggling from the healing magic.

  “I was ashamed to tell anyone, I thought there was something wrong with me.”

  “Nah, just an unquenchable bloodlust and a complete disregard for your own, personal safety—totally normal!” Bird quipped with a smirk.

  “Shut up!” Iskvold playfully slapped his arm, still giggling.

  “So, what now?” Glynfir asked. “Back to the abbey?”

  A murmur of confirmation rose from the group.

  “Orrrrrr,” Bird deliberately drew the word out, “we could try to find what they were looking for.” The cat raised his eyebrows, casting glances around the group for support.

  Tsuta shook his head with a smirk.

  “Oh, here we go!” Whydah muttered, rolling her eyes.

  “Wait, hear me out!” The tabby countered. “There is something very valuable on this mountain, somewhere. We just prevented someone capable of commanding demons from getting it! I would argue we have an obligation, no, a duty,” he pointed his plump cat-clawed finger at Segwyn, “to find it first.”

  “You’re incorrigible!” Whydah scolded him.

  “But that’s why we came here in the first place, right?” Bird protested.

  Lunish looked to Whydah, “What’s he talking about?”

  The halfling slowly shook her head. “Before we heard about the fire, we were chasing a rumor we picked up in Buhlent about a mysterious, valuable treasure, somewhere in the Glimmerstones. But it was nothing more than a whisper.”

  “I’m willing to bet they’re the same!” Glynfir offered.

  “Oh, hush, Glynnie,” Lunish said dismissively, “I’ve seen you bet on a horse that was actually missing a leg, so that isn’t saying much!”

  Glynfir muttered in Tsuta’s direction, “In my defense, it had just rained that morning, and I got a tip that she was one helluva mudder.”

  The bald monk chuckled before offering his opinion, “I’ve known Whiskers a long time, and I will say, he has a keen nose for treasure.”

  “Thank you!” Bird bowed his head in Tsuta’s direction.

  “There is also some decent logic buried in his blatant attempt at manipulation.” Segwyn shot the cat a sidelong smirk.

  Bird furrowed his brow and opened his mouth in a playful look of feigned offense.

  “Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to find it, and the involvement of demons suggests their motives are less than noble,” the ranger continued.

  “I don’t disagree, but we don’t even know what it is,” Iskvold reminded him. “There has to be a better way than the seven of us wandering up and down this mountain randomly kicking rocks.”

  “What do you suggest?” Segwyn asked.

  “Research,” the drow said flatly. “We’ve got a lot of material in the Vault, and you must have a good library in Eredmire as well, right? …Maybe even a few scholars we could ask?”

  Segwyn pouted, nodding his head in consideration.

  “We could also ask Snuggles,” Lunish offered. “The Hub seems to know everything.”

  “I’ll admit, it does seem more productive to approach this with at least some sort of plan,” the ranger conceded. “And it’s not far to come back.”

  Bird let out a long sigh.

  Lunish turned to Whydah, “What’s up with him?”

  The bard giggled, “He’s not a ‘research’ kind of cat. I think, given the choice, he’d take the rock-kicking option!”

  “I know you’re not happy, Whiskers, but you have to admit it’s a better plan,” Tsuta consoled his friend.

  “It’s debatable,” Bird mumbled with a pout.

  Glynfir bumped his elbow into Tsuta’s shoulder. “Hey, so, when do I get a nickname?”

  “What?”

  The wizard pointed his finger around the circle, “Well, there’s Pinky, Tiny, Whiskers, and Woodsy…” He waggled his finger between himself and Lunish. “What about us?”

  Tsuta’s expression didn’t change. “I gave you both nicknames the first day I met you. Just because I haven’t used them yet, doesn’t mean they haven’t already been decided.”

  Glynfir paused, waiting for the monk to continue until the silence got awkward.

  “Well, what are they?”

  Tsuta furrowed his brow as if surprised by the question, before pointing the tip of his staff toward Lunish. “She’s Braids, and you’re Mustache.”

  Segwyn let out a deep laugh. “Be careful what you wish for, wizard!”

  “Mustache? Couldn’t I have something cooler, like Snake Eyes, or Flashbang?” Glynfir protested. “What if I shave, or she lets her braids out?”

  The bald elf looked at him incredulously, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, that would be dumb. Why would you do that?” Tsuta shook his head, “Nope, you have to keep it. Besides, those other names are already taken. Snake Eyes is the lizard-folk guy who lived next door when I was young, and Flashbang was a gnome tinkerer who worked with explosives. Well, he used to…”

  “Wait, Flashbang is dead? Doesn’t that make his nickname available again?” Glynfir lobbied.

  Tsuta looked at the wizard like a child who had just asked why the sun rose in the east, before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “Listen, Mustache, I’ve been doing this a long time. You just have to trust the process.”

  A roar of laughter rose from everyone except Glynfir.

  “It’s no use, Glynnie,” Bird called to the wizard. “Once he’s made up his mind, he won’t change it. Trust me, I’ve tried. I even started calling him Stick, hoping he would see how ridiculous it is…but, deep down, I think he actually likes it.”

  The first rays of the morning sun began to crawl across the forest floor as the group, depleted but in good spirits, aside from the sullen tabby, gathered their things to return to the abbey.

  “Do we need to do anything with those?” Lunish asked Segwyn as she pointed her thumb toward the charcoal corpses littering the undergrowth.

  Segwyn shook his head, pulling the buckle tight on his pack. “Not as far as I’m concerned. They can rot where they lie!”

  “Are you ready to go, Mustache?” Iskvold called playfully to the wizard.

  “Don’t you start!” Glynfir cautioned as they began the downward trek back towards the road.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma?

  Join my substack for: