When the first rays of morning illuminated the snow-covered peaks, the group was already moving through the Shanderiusha Gap.

  “What happens if it takes them three days to find it?” Segwyn called over his shoulder from the front of the column. “Do we just wait?”

  “And watch,” Bird’s voice echoed off the bare stone. “We’ll also have to take shifts overnight, right? You said demons don’t sleep or rest.”

  “Indeed, they don’t,” the ranger confirmed.

  “If it goes more than three days, we’ll need some resupply or risk foraging in the area,” Iskvold pointed out.

  “I thought about that,” Tsuta replied, turning to face her as they walked. “Since all three of us can use the new spell Glamos shared, I’m thinking we could send a message to Sifu, and have him dispatch one of the initiates to meet one of us partway.”

  Iskvold nodded wordlessly as he completed the pivot.

  “I’m more concerned about them finding it before we get eyes on them,” Bird muttered. “If they get it and get out before we arrive, all our effort and planning will have been for nothing more than a pleasant morning hike.”

  “Hey, Braids, couldn’t you just ask a squirrel to watch them, and then come and tell us when they find it?” Tsuta asked Lunish, walking at the front of the column.

  “One second. I’m just updating Snuggles.”

  The druid circled her index finger and thumb around the smooth surface of the stone, struggling to condense their complex plan into the tool’s meager limitations.

  ‘Snuggles, more demons returned, neighboring abbey destroyed. En route to steal the prize from under their nose. Nothing new on RQ. Wish us luck!’

  That would have to do for now. Mentally firing the message off into the universe, she returned to Tsuta’s question.

  “You want to put a squirrel on watch duty?” she harumphed without turning her head. “I could ask, but there’s nothing in the magic that compels them to do it, and then our entire plan would hinge on the limited mental capability of a squirrel. In my experience, they’re pretty easily distracted – even worse than Glynnie!”

  “What’s that?” the wizard called from his position in the rear.

  This time, Lunish did turn her head, grinning as she called over her shoulder, “Nothing!”

  “He does bring up a good point, though,” Bird offered. “We’ll need to know their current position to set ourselves up to monitor their activities. What do you think about doing some owl recon? We can meet at the spot where we left the trail last time.”

  “I can do that,” Lunish agreed. Stepping to the side of the trail, her form shifted into a great horned owl.

  “Keep your eyes open for the familiar, too,” Segwyn suggested.

  The owl gave him a long, slow blink in acknowledgement before fluttering skyward over the canopy.

  As the druid’s avian form disappeared from view, the group continued their trek, and the conversation shifted to the speculative nature of their quarry.

  “Does anyone have any new ideas on what they might be after?” Glynfir floated over the party as they followed the trail west.

  “I’m thinking maybe a rare plant of some kind, used for a potion or ritual,” Segwyn suggested.

  “Ooh, that’s pretty good,” Whydah agreed. “I was leaning towards maybe a creature, or part of a creature, but for a similar purpose.”

  “Ugh, so we might be stealing the eye or horn of something?” Glynfir wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Or even the blood?”

  Bird shook his head. “I’m still leaning towards some form of treasure – gold, diamonds, or mithril.”

  “Well, if you’re right, we won’t be able to steal it at all,” Iskvold countered. “It would still be in the ground since no one has ever lived here.”

  “That would require a change of plans,” Bird admitted.

  “I thought some more about that,” Glynfir said. “We can’t really rule out a magical artifact just because we didn’t find any signs of civilization. Someone could have used magic to place or hide an object of great power or threat on this mountain because it’s so remote.”

  Tsuta chuckled and shook his head, “So it could be animal, vegetable, mineral, or magical. Congratulations, everyone, we’ve gone backwards in determining the object. We thought we’d eliminated something, but now the wizard has revived it! We are officially clueless.”

  As they continued walking, Whydah noticed Iskvold open her mouth to speak before thinking better of it and pursing her lips in thought.

  “Out with it, Pinky!” The bard stretched her pronunciation of the other woman’s nickname to diffuse the drow’s hesitation. She was rewarded with a nervous laugh.

  “Well, it’s just that I feel a bit silly even asking. I’m the Vault curator, I should know this. But will the gnolls even understand me when I start yelling at them?”

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  “Nooooo,” Whydah drawled that word as well, this time for effect. “Frankly, we don’t want them to. They only speak Gnoll, but they might recognize Common. That would be a red flag when you're trying to impersonate a demon. Do you speak any other languages, something a bit more obscure?”

  The drow’s face brightened. “I can speak Undercommon!”

  “Perfect,” Whydah purred. “Let them have it in your best Undercommon. The important thing is to make sure you get the attention of as many as possible, and sound threatening.”

  Iskvold came to a stop, pointing to the road ahead. Looking up, Whydah was the last to notice the great horned owl, flapping violently towards them.

  Lunish pulled up, landing gracefully on the trail in front of Segwyn, her form shifting back in a green flash.

  The little gnome gasped between labored breaths, “We have a problem!”

  Kneeling, the ranger pulled his waterskin from his hip. “Easy! Have a drink and catch your breath.”

  Lunish accepted the water, drinking greedily as the group surrounded her position. “They found it! Whatever it is, they’ve found it and are starting back down the mountain, all in a pack.” The gnome gasped, then choked slightly as some of the water went down the wrong way. “What are we gonna do now?” she sputtered between coughs.

  “Relax, it’s okay.” Bird’s tone was even. “As Broken Fang used to say, ‘Everyone has a plan until they get a knife in the ribs.’ We can adjust. How far up the mountain were they?”

  “Almost to the snow line,” she spat out, her breathing beginning to calm.

  The tabby looked up at the mountain, his eyes narrowed as he calculated.

  “Alright, we’ve still got time to get into position, but we’ve got to pick up the pace! Did you happen to see what it was?”

  Lunish shook her head. “No, they’re all moving together in a group, guarding it, so I couldn't get a look, but it’s small enough for one person to carry easily.”

  “What about the familiar?” Glynfir asked.

  “Him I did see! A weird-looking little creature, bright green with a white belly and horns. Some kind of demon, I guess…about the size of a cat,” she added, her tone uncertain. “He was hopping along beside them.”

  Heads turned to Glynfir. The wizard spread his hands in a shrug. “Don’t look at me! I don’t know what she’s describing. It’s very unusual. Most familiars are rats, snakes, or birds. You know, normal animals.”

  The tabby cut the conversation short. “Okay, at least we know what it looks like. That will have to do for now. Let’s hustle up to the split and confirm what we think we know.” Without further discussion, the group moved quickly down the trail.

  Within ten minutes, Segwyn raised his fist in the air, signaling a halt very close to where they found the demons’ tracks crossing the trail two days before. With the peak rising on their right, Bird and Segwyn stepped off the trail to the left, examining the terrain. Returning a minute later, a grin on his face, the cat motioned the group into a huddle. Cocking one ear towards the mountain above them, and satisfied with the silence, he spoke in a hushed tone.

  “Woodsy was right.”

  The ranger shook his head with an eye roll, hearing the nickname. Bird flashed a teasing grin before continuing. “This side is a steep drop below the trail.” He raised his left arm, fingers spread, palm facing behind him. “They’ll cut through here,” he rotated his palm and pulled his arm slightly forward. “On their way to the flat ground. This is where we part ways, so one last time, is everyone clear on where to go and what to do?” His glance around the group was met with a series of confirming nods. He held Segwyn’s gaze momentarily. “And remember, don’t kick things off until we send word. I want to make sure the marks are in a fixed position.” The ranger nodded again in confirmation.

  A quiet purr vibrated from the tabby’s chest as his eyes sparkled. “Alright, everyone, it’s showtime. Let’s steal this mysterious prize!”

  The distant crack of a tree branch above them on the mountainside and the faint smell of sulfur reinforced the moment’s urgency as the group broke huddle. Whydah, Iskvold, and Segwyn carried on down the trail while Lunish retrieved the sprig of spruce and a pinch of ash from her satchel. The druid’s hands crackled with arcane energy. Her fingers interlaced, a dull pop preceded the familiar green effervescence that settled around the remaining foursome, and they stepped silently off the trail to the left. Finding a suitable location a hundred yards downhill with their backs to the sheer rocky drop, they settled in to wait for the marks’ arrival.

  The others quickly put some distance between themselves and the travelling demons. They followed the trail for an additional quarter-mile, Segwyn constantly checking the geography on their left. The ranger called another halt, motioning the others to a gap in the foliage. Across the valley, a rocky ridge jutted out from the base of an adjacent peak, almost parallel to their position, pointing toward the Siremirian plains like a stony finger. The valley was narrow and lush with vegetation, but only fifty feet deep. Segwyn immediately recognized its tactical value to the gnolls.

  Framed by the mountain on two sides and the ridge on a third, it was very defensible. The only way in or out ran through the open end, right past the foot of the slope where they had left their friends minutes earlier. To the right, tucked into the protected corner of the valley, against the rock face, small tendrils of smoke curled skyward, the only visible sign of the gnoll settlement.

  “I think you two want to go in here,” he said to the others. “I’ll continue down to the corner and find a spot to set up above the camp.”

  Whydah’s eyes widened as she considered the stony cliff at the end of the valley. “That looks pretty intimidating.”

  The ranger smirked in reply. “Maybe for you… For me, it’s not much different from walking along that trail.” He nodded towards the path they had just left. His eyes settled on Iskvold. “Have you got your bonnet?”

  The drow delivered an epic pink eye roll before wordlessly producing the white cloth hat from beneath her robes, forcing a chuckle from her companions.

  “Okay then, good luck to you both!” Segwyn extended his hand, embracing first Iskvold, then Whydah in the traditional forearm grip of the Verdant Blades. “Meet back here at this rock when we’re done?” He tipped his head over his shoulder towards a large bare boulder just off the path.

  “Sounds like a plan!” Whydah confirmed, glancing at Iskvold. “You ready?”

  The drow nodded while Whydah extracted a block of resin containing an eyelash and began to hum softly. Completing the melody, a white sparkle began to orbit her fingertip. Touching first Iskvold, then herself, the pair disappeared with a pop. Segwyn watched the shrubbery part in front of their invisible forms as they descended into the forest below.

  Continuing toward the valley’s closed end, the ranger left the path when it veered from his destination. Skirting the cliff face, he picked his way through the low pine trees and brambles until he had a clear view of the settlement below. Fifteen huts of different sizes made of mud, thatch, and some wood framing straddled a small, fast-moving stream that emerged from a cleft in the rock face. On the far side of the clearing, closest to the forest, several male gnolls shaped harvested tree trunks, woodchips flying from their axes. Their construction goal was immediately evident. A bramble boma had been erected between the rocky cliffs on either side of the camp, offering modest protection from the forest. At the barrier’s far end, the first ten feet of brush had been replaced with sharpened tree trunks lashed together, improving the fortification.

  Two central firepits, deep with coals, were attracting a crowd looking for a spot to cook their noon meal. Directly below his position, a natural rock outcropping jutted out in an overhang, likely protecting a cave where the band’s leader would call home and the group could shelter in extreme weather. Scanning the cliff edge, Segwyn found what he was looking for, a crook in the stone with decent cover. Confident of an easy shot anywhere within the camp’s footprint, the ranger disguised his position and waited for the signal.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma?

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