Dawn broke slightly overcast as the group threaded their way back through the Shanderiusha Gap. The pace was more casual this time. Still limited to two abreast, Lunish and Tsuta shared the column’s front.

  “Why haven’t the Siremirian League been involved in any of this? We haven’t seen them at all.”

  Tsuta sniffed in response, “And we won’t. The whole eastern half of their territory is pretty empty of civilization, at least. There are a few outpost towns along the Kyathlinneas River, but not much else.” The bald monk paused before adding thoughtfully, “It would be more accurate to think of the border as the point where Shan stops rather than where the League begins.”

  “Is there any chance of their military getting involved?”

  “I would say none. All their troops and attention are up in the northwest along the coast, where most of the population lives. But the Shan military still won’t cross the border, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He tucked his toe under the edge of a stone, flicking it to the side of the path.

  “Even with demons knocking on their door? Why not?”

  “The Shan are rule followers to a fault. They signed a treaty respecting the boundary, and that’s that as far as they’re concerned. We get away with crossing back and forth because we’re not part of their official forces.” Tsuta raised his eyebrows, tilting his head into a knowing smile as he met her gaze. “Despite the abbey’s agreement with the Shan, as far as the treaty goes, we’re just a bunch of monks – private citizens who live near the border.”

  “I see.” The gnome lowered her gaze to the gravel trail, processing the details of their circumstance.

  “Did you send a message to The Snuggler yet?” he asked.

  The absurdity of the name jolted her from her thoughts. “It’s Snuggles,” she giggled.

  His face deadpan, the monk replied, “I know, but The Snuggler is funnier. It makes her sound like a creature that skulks in the shadows, mercilessly hugging unsuspecting victims.”

  The gnome erupted in bright laughter that bounced off the gap’s stone walls. “You’re an odd bird, Tsuta,” she chuckled, “even for a monk! Yes, I messaged her before we left.” Lunish cocked her head in recollection, “I said, ‘Snuggles, Threat removed. Demons searching mountainside, prize unknown. Returning to abbey to research their potential target. Shared names not recognized. Additional intelligence or assistance appreciated.’”

  “How long does it usually take for an answer?” Iskvold inquired from three steps behind, overhearing the conversation. “Anything to narrow down the research would be helpful.”

  “Hopefully she’ll reply today,” Lunish said, spinning in a circle to look at her.

  “I’ll help you in the Vault,” Whydah offered, walking beside the drow. “I’m sure Glynnie will too – as long as you stop calling him ‘Mustache’!”

  The two shared a laugh.

  “I’m not sure I can do that; it winds him up so easily!” Iskvold admitted.

  “How did you end up as the Vault’s curator anyway?” Whydah asked.

  The monk let out a long breath through puffed cheeks. “Growing up at the Luminarium, I helped out all over the place – the kitchens, the gardens, even the transcription room. Once I got into the Vault, I fell in love with all the knowledge and just the order of the place. Sifu was fine with it, so I just stayed there.”

  “Wait, you joined the order as a kid?”

  “I didn’t have much choice, really,” the drow admitted, pursing her lips as a veil of sorrow swept across her face. “I was abandoned at the abbey when I was about three.”

  “What? That’s terrible!” Whydah gasped.

  Iskvold’s gaze remained fixed on the path ahead as she spoke, “It’s called oblation and happens more often than you think, though Sifu said I’m the only one that’s ever been given to the Luminarium. I guess the abbey isn’t exactly easy to access.”

  Whydah stopped in her tracks, visibly bristling, “Given? So, you belong to the abbey?”

  Sensing the halfling’s ire, Iskvold looked up. She raised her eyebrows, then her hands in reassurance. “Technically, yes. Thankfully, Sifu’s not like that. When I was about sixteen, he told me I could leave anytime I wanted, but why would I? That man has given me more than anyone else in Venn. The monks of the Luminarium are the only family I’ve ever really known.”

  Assured injustice had been averted, Whydah resumed walking, head down in thought as she considered her friend’s situation. Her tone was softer when she finally spoke.

  “What about your parents? Do you have any memory of them, or your people, at all?”

  Iskvold shook her head. “Only flashes of my mother, and I’ve never even met another drow. Part of me still wants to understand why.” She scrunched her brow. “It used to really bother me when I was younger.” Her shoulders flinched into a shrug, “But now, I’ve convinced myself that they did what they thought was best for me.”

  Whydah stopped again, her face contorting into an expression of exaggerated sadness. She turned to face her friend, arms thrown wide, “Awwww, come here!”

  Iskvold chuckled nervously and bent down to embrace the halfling in a long hug.

  “I’m sorry you had to deal with that as a kid, and I can’t even imagine how difficult the attack must have been for you.” Whydah pushed the larger woman to arm’s length to look her in the eye, “Know that I’m here if you want to talk about it, and I also completely respect it if you don’t!”

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

  Iskvold forced a smile and brought the halfling in for another hug, “Thank you, Whydah!”

  The group dragged itself into the abbey courtyard by mid-morning. Sifu and the acolytes were there to greet them.

  The old monk raised his chin, looking down his nose in assessment, “Judging from your appearance, I’d guess you found them?”

  “They found us, actually,” Bird quipped, “Though I’d like to believe there was a moment, right before their eyes went dark, when they regretted that!”

  Sifu nodded approvingly. “So, what were they looking for?”

  Tsuta shrugged, “No idea. They found us first, and that was the end of their search.”

  Through multiple narrators and interruptions, the group recounted the details of their encounter with the demons and the decision to return, seeking clues about the perpetrator or the prize within the Vault. Sifu listened intently, his mustache twitching in thought.

  “Well, I have good news and bad news on that front. While you were gone, I found one reference to The Red Queen, but I don’t think it’s helpful.”

  Iskvold’s eyes widened. “That’s a start! Why do you think it isn’t helpful?”

  Sifu cocked his head, his lips pressed tightly together, “According to the text and my calculations, she died five hundred years ago.”

  A meal of bread, meat, and cheese was quickly cobbled together for the returned adventurers, and everyone tucked in ravenously around the mess table. Haft’s discovery dominated the conversation.

  “Was there any more context with the reference?” Iskvold asked, tearing off a piece of bread from one of the communal loaves.

  Haft’s mustache twitched twice as he subtly shook his head, “Not much. It was a comparison made in passing, to another contemporary leader.” His gaze shifted up and to the right as he recounted the details. “It referenced her being a Siremirian warlord and called out her ruthlessness and brutality on the battlefield. Apparently, she would bathe in the blood of her fallen enemies right before a battle. That was about it.”

  “She sounds utterly charming!” Bird theatrically rolled his eyes, generating a collective chuckle around the table.

  Iskvold was undistracted by the tabby’s banter. “And how did you conclude she died five hundred years ago?”

  Haft shrugged, “The source text was about two hundred years old, and the author himself said, and I quote, ‘Venn hasn’t seen battlefield brutality like this since The Red Queen fell on the Siremirian plains over three hundred years ago.” The abbey master spread his arms wide, palms raised.

  “That’s pretty definitive,” Iskvold admitted, mumbling around a mouthful of cheese.

  Haft nodded in agreement. “That’s why I said I didn’t think it would be useful, particularly since the name itself is hardly unique.”

  “So, it’s not relevant at all then?” Segwyn asked from the other end of the table.

  “Most likely not,” Iskvold explained to the group. “If the name we were looking for was more specific, like Sir Ardbog, the Giant Slayer of East Carndor, it would be interesting. But, with such a generic title, and the fact that she’s long dead…” The drow shrugged a single shoulder, tilting her head to the side.

  “It could be a descendant,” Lunish offered, “hoping to rekindle past family glory.”

  “It could be someone unrelated, who knows the original story and likes the imagery,” Glynfir countered.

  “Or, just as likely, neither of those,” Tsuta argued, his tone dripping with judgment. “We could be dealing with a woman who just isn’t that creative with her nicknames…Amateur!”

  “And it doesn’t help us identify what they were looking for,” Bird added flatly.

  “What about the Crimson Dominion?” Whydah asked. “Did you find any mention of them?”

  Sifu shook his head. “None, but I only had time to look through a fraction of the Vault’s contents.”

  “Whydah, Glynnie, and I will jump in with you when we’re done eating – and we’ve properly cleaned up.” The drow shot her master a teasing glance before turning to the others. “Anyone else interested in helping? Bird?”

  Iskvold noticed Whydah’s change of expression. The halfling’s eyes were wide, as she subtly shook her head. Bird noticed it too.

  “Believe me, no one wants that.” He playfully exaggerated a stare in Whydah’s direction. “I’ve been told I’m not ‘well-suited’ to quiet research.”

  Whydah nodded in agreement, “Trust me, we’ll cover more ground without him.”

  “Okay, how about the rest of you?”

  “I will in a bit, but I’m running low on a few spell components I’d like to replenish first. If that’s ok?” Lunish asked timidly.

  Segwyn cleared his throat, “I thought it might be useful to make a quick trip to Eredmire, to ask the elves in our library to see what they can find.”

  “Now that’s more my speed! I’m happy to join you.” Bird chirped

  Iskvold’s eyes narrowed suspiciously before turning to her watch partner, “What about you, Tsuta?”

  “I need to have a quick look at our defenses first. I’m sure there are a lot of repairs needed from the attack and the fire, but then I’ll help.”

  The group wrapped up their meal, and following a brief clean-up, Bird and Segwyn took off on horseback towards Eredmire. Lunish wandered into the woods northeast of the abbey, and Tsuta began his itemized review of the Luminarium’s defensive state. The others, led by Sifu Haft, descended into The Vault.

  The cool smell of earth greeted the wizard’s nose as they descended from the transcription room. With the crude stairs and single stone treads, he was reminded of the storage area under a pub or root cellar. Not generally an appropriate climate for valuable books. His concerns evaporated, however, when he turned the corner. The source of the name became obvious immediately. Entirely constructed from square-cut flagstone, the room was tightly sealed in all joints from top to bottom.

  It was also much larger than Glynfir expected. The wizard estimated the footprint of the underground library to be identical to the main structure. Bookshelves lined the entire perimeter, floor to ceiling. Two rows of additional free-standing shelves stood at either end. Magical flames contained by wall-mounted sconces bathed the room in soft light.

  The central area boasted two pairs of long wooden tables. Identical to the mess hall and positioned end to end, their surface was dotted with well-used, thick pillar candles, several open volumes, quills, and notepaper. Wooden carts on either side held recently reviewed materials.

  “Now this is a library!” Glynfir pronounced, his face beaming. “I could easily live down here for days!”

  “Easy, Mustache!” Iskvold chuckled. “We have to stay on task. You can browse later.” The drow effortlessly transitioned into full curator mode. “Why don’t you three set up here?” she pointed to the tables. “Since I know this place best, I’ll gather texts that might contain something useful, and you can review the contents. Does that work?”

  Recognizing she was in her element, the others nodded in agreement, seating themselves while Iskvold sprang into action. Even Sifu Haft, usually controlling the situation, recognized this as her domain and quietly took a seat.

  Her voice rose and fell as she bustled around the Vault, sometimes echoing off the stone, occasionally muffled by the stacks. “Remember, we’re looking for anything specific that might help identify what the demons were looking for on that mountainside. So, I’m going to bring you mostly historical texts.” She dropped two heavy volumes on the table in front of Whydah, “I’ll include those that talk about the settlement of Venn, particularly that part of Siremiria, any accounts of empires that rose and fell, and anything we have on military tactics and outcomes – they often call out specific battles and locations.”

  She disappeared again behind the free-standing shelves. “Keep your eyes open for anything that tells us who was in that area and when.” Her eyes sparkled as she dropped three more texts between Glynfir and Sifu Haft. “If you find anything, speak up. If it’s promising, we can all pivot and dive deeper.” The monk raised her eyebrows, looking to her audience for confirmation. Receiving a chorus of nods in return, she turned on her heel and called over her shoulder, “Great! Let’s get to work!”

  The Glimmerstone Enigma?

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