Nestled in a low depression, their backs to a sheer drop, the foursome waited. Shoulder pressed against the stony extrusion serving as their primary cover, Bird’s lithe feline form stretched out behind him. Constantly flexing his rear toes, his haunches rose and fell in anticipation. His tail hovered just above the leaf litter, the tip lazily swaying back and forth. Only two black fuzzy ears and two bright yellow saucers risked exposure above the edge of the protective stone, scanning the higher ground toward the trail to their right for any sign of the descending demon platoon.

  Tsuta sat calmly, cross-legged, eyes closed, taking advantage of any opportunity for calm reflection, however fleeting. The druid distracted herself with a sprouting fern, gently coaxing it to flourish, an occasional magical flare sparking between her fingers and the stem.

  Glynfir, constantly shifting his weight and changing position, his fingers unconsciously drumming against his robe-covered thigh, could barely contain himself.

  “How long could it possibly take?” he whispered into Bird’s back.

  Without opening his eyes, Tsuta’s right hand shot out, slapping the wizard’s drumming fingers, pressing them into stillness against his leg. “Patience Mustache, they’ll get here when they get here.”

  “Two things I don’t understand,” Lunish whispered. “Why didn’t whoever is behind this come get it right away, as soon as the demons found it, and why do we think this is the right spot?”

  “You couldn’t have asked that back at the abbey?” Bird breathed over his shoulder.

  “Imperfect communication,” Glynfir said simply. “Even the most powerful casters can’t see everything happening everywhere. The familiar is the primary means of passing information, and they can only respond; they cannot initiate. So, until the caster checks in with that little green demon, they wouldn’t know it had been found.”

  “The other part of the answer is the Plane Gate spell, since we think that’s how they’re moving around,” Tsuta added. “You can’t see through to the other side when you cast it. So, if you cast it up there,” he nodded to the peak on their right, “and you’re off by even a couple of feet in the placement, you’d step out of the gate blindly and go tumbling down the mountainside. It’s just good practice to pick a flat space.” He pointed to the grasslands below the base of the hillock. “Those fields are the closest flat spot.”

  “Shhhhh,” the tabby hissed over his shoulder. “I told you already, if you spook them, we’re cooked!”

  Although an excellent vantage point for observation, the foursome’s current position was defensively precarious. Outnumbered at least five to one, backs to a long sheer drop, this was not a place they wanted to pick a fight.

  A grunt of satisfaction from Lunish turned their heads. With a smile on her face, the gnome presented the now bushy, fully grown fern at her feet.

  The cat shook his head. “Focus, please! Honestly, I can’t believe you two successfully spied on anyone,” he whispered hotly.

  The crack of deadfall to their right turned all heads back to the hillside. A procession of charcoal sauntered into view, accompanied by the scent of sulfur. Three in front, spears at the ready, formed the vanguard of the macabre parade. Their spiny tails swept back and forth in the leaf litter behind them.

  “Here we go!” Bird breathed over his shoulder.

  A larger cluster of almost twenty followed, relaxed, spears at their sides, tails still. The tabby noticed one Sklir holding two spears, while another, in the center of the pack, carried what had to be the mysterious prize. Another attentive guard patrolled each flank, with three more bringing up the rear. His eyes narrowed on a tiny, bright green, horned creature bounding back and forth through the main procession, oblivious to the occasional kick. “I count twenty-seven in total,” he announced quietly to the others. “And the familiar’s here too.”

  This drew the rest of the team into a tight huddle, hunched behind their rocky cover, necks craning for a look.

  “I’ve never seen a companion like that,” the wizard whispered, peering over Bird’s right shoulder. “It has to be a demon.”

  “But, can you get me past it, Greaseman?” the cat hissed, reminding Glynfir of his job.

  “I think so,” the wizard’s tone was hesitant. Bird’s sharp look made him rethink that answer.

  “Yeah, it’ll be fine.” Glynfir flicked his fingers dismissively, reassuring himself as much as his companion.

  Oblivious to their observers, the marks continued downslope toward the rocky apron separating the wooded foothills from the grassy plains beyond, skirting the thick cedar-choked valley on their right. Their hooked heads barely visible above the sloping terrain, the demons stopped twenty yards from the forest’s edge. After a brief exchange of grunts and clicks, they began establishing a perimeter. Eight demon sentries fanned out around the outcropping, taking positions to watch the plains, the swamp, the cliff, and their backtrail. The rest dropped out of sight, presumably sticking close to their prize, leaving nothing to chance.

  “Segwyn was right,” Bird whispered, admiration in his tone. “This was their most defensible position.”

  “They’re obviously waiting for something, or someone.” Tsuta agreed.

  Bird turned his back to their cover stone, sliding lower, behind its protection, facing his friends.

  “Okay, it’s time to pounce!” He glanced at Tsuta and then Glynfir. “Send messages to the others.”

  “I’ve got Woodsy, you tell Tiny?” Tsuta checked with Glynfir. The latter nodded as they both produced small pieces of copper wire and began muttering under their breath, fingers twitching.

  Bird turned to the gnomish druid. Her chin low, chest visibly swelling with each breath, she held his gaze, unblinking.

  The tabby raised a hand to her shoulder. “You’ve got this. Just like we talked about, easy-peasy.”

  She returned a tremor of a nod, her arms folded protectively across her torso.

  “Woodsy will let fly in a couple of minutes,” the bald monk announced in a whisper.

  “Iskvold and Whydah are in position.” Glynfir relayed.

  “Excellent,” the cat purred, his whiskers bristling in a grin. “Fifteen minutes, Glynnie, and we’re on the move.”

  The moments passed in silence as the group waited, alert for any sight or sound of activity. The Sklir stoically held their positions. Glynfir rolled his shoulders to relieve the knots growing on either side of his neck.

  “Okay, Greaseman, time to go!” Bird extended one fuzzy claw in front of the wizard’s face, indicating a spot less than twenty feet from the central cluster of demons. “Let’s take position there, behind that big oak.”

  Tsuta clasped Bird’s shoulder. “Good luck!”

  “Be careful, Glynnie,” Lunish cautioned, reminding him, “this isn’t a game of dice.”

  Ignoring her remark, Glynfir pulled the block of resin from his satchel and began casting. Bird gave Tsuta and Lunish one last, long look.

  “Hopefully we’ll be back shortly, but if things go sideways, fall back to the trail and send us a message.”

  As the last words tumbled from his lips, Bird lifted the tip of his tail, offering it to the wizard. Accepting the improvised guide rope, Glynfir touched Bird, then himself, and the two disappeared in a purple flash.

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  Leaving the protection of their hiding spot, they crept across the forest floor toward the cluster of demons with Bird in the lead. With the cat’s tail guiding his path, the wizard’s shoulders tensed further as they threaded the needle, tiptoeing between the sentries on the outer perimeter. He cringed as a twig snapped beneath him. The pair froze, two pairs of red, glowing eyes turning in their direction.

  Sorry! He magically messaged his companion. Grateful to Whydah for sharing the cantrip, he disliked the spell’s limitation, restricting all mental messages to twenty-five words.

  Stay still, I’ve got it, was the reply, before a rustle in the leaf litter off to the left turned the sentries’ attention elsewhere.

  What did you do?

  I threw a stone. We’ll give it a couple seconds, and I’ll start moving again.

  His head on a swivel between the two sentries, the wizard’s heartbeat pulsed in his ears, the pace quickening with each stretching moment. Finally, he felt the tug from Bird’s tail, and they resumed their delicate journey to the big oak.

  Reaching their target, Glynfir pressed himself flat against the trunk’s surface, letting out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. So far, so good. Feeling Bird’s shoulder against his, the wizard peered around the tree toward the legion of demons barely twenty feet away. He counted nineteen hooks, standing silently, protectively, tails sweeping back and forth across the forest floor like a nest of snakes. Facing outward, they had their backs to something on the ground at their feet. The small green familiar was nowhere in sight.

  It's a box, with some inscriptions on it, he magically messaged the tabby.

  I see that. Why would the Red Queen go to the trouble of sending a box to pack it in?

  The wizard’s brow furrowed in thought.

  I dunno. Are we taking the whole thing?

  Nope, just the contents. It’s too obvious if the entire box is gone, Bird answered.

  The pair waited and watched for several minutes in silence, and doubt began to set in. He messaged Bird again, his fingers silently drumming against his leg.

  What if it didn’t work, or she got caught?

  Glynfir’s mind raced, calculating alternate plans on the fly until the tabby’s calm, vibrating tone echoed in his mind in reply, repeating the words he’d heard from Tsuta earlier.

  Patience Mustache…How long do we have left on the invisibility?

  About thirty minutes.

  Lots of time. If it’s almost gone and they still haven’t arrived, we’ll pull back and regroup, okay?

  He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

  The constant, almost hypnotic, sway of undulating tails among the dry leaves provided a conscious distraction, sparking the realization of what he didn’t see. Where is that little green demon hiding? The wizard’s search for the familiar was interrupted by a tingle at the base of his skull, warning him that his spell was near expiry. Preparing to message his companion again, the sound of a distant howl broke the silence, then another. Soon, a full-throated chorus of barks and yips rose from the swamp beyond the demon perimeter.

  Hooked heads turned toward the disturbance, curiosity quickly giving way to alarm as the ruckus grew in volume and proximity. The protective circle around the box pivoted to face the swamp following a hurried exchange of clipped grunts and clicks. When the horde of angry gnolls crested the hill, overwhelming the perimeter, spears and teeth flashing, full pandemonium spread across the recently peaceful hillside.

  Three Sklir stayed with the box, their backs turned, posture defensive, facing the horde. The rest charged immediately into the fray. The red matrix of demon spell casting mixed with the clang of spears as battle rose like a wave from the edge of the swamp. Even the sentries collapsed from their watch positions, crossing the clearing to meet the angry canine threat. Glynfir felt Bird’s weight leave his shoulder as the cat started to make his move.

  Be quick, the spell is about to expire, he magically communicated

  Noted…Can you please let go of my tail now?

  The wizard felt his cheeks flush, releasing the tail he hadn’t realized he was still holding, and the tabby scrambled toward the box.

  Bird closed the distance quickly, his feline paws soft and nimble, crossing the forest floor. With its remaining guards focused on the gnolls, this would be child’s play. Grasping opposing corners, he tried to lift the lid. It didn’t budge. Confused by its resistance, he gave the container a closer inspection. Frosted in ornate off-white floral designs and framed with silver corner bumpers, it was less than a foot long on each side. The faintest of seams, an inch from the top, confirmed there was, in fact, a lid, but it held tight.

  A quick upward glance at the three demons reassured him of their distraction, but the gnolls were gaining ground. What they lacked in power, they made up for in numbers and pure ferocity. Whatever Iskvold had done must have been a performance for the ages! He picked up the box, turning it over in his hands. Heavier than expected, he found no hinges, no lock. The tabby tipped it to one side, feeling the soft vibration of something sliding across the interior. No, there’s definitely something inside. He probed the surface for a hidden pressure release. Finding none, the cat quickly withdrew a set of lockpicks, sliding one of the fine metal probes around the lid’s seal. Still no luck.

  He stared at it for a moment, at a loss for how to proceed. A dapple of sweat began to bead on his lip when Glynfir’s voice whispered in his head.

  We’ve gotta go, they’ll see us any second! What’s taking so long?

  I can’t open it. It has no lock, no hinges. I don’t want to take the whole thing, but I may have no choice.

  Gondammit. It’s a magic lock. Hang on, I’m coming.

  The wizard jumped from behind the tree and bolted for the box, the mental fuse on his waning invisibility spell flashing in the back of his mind. The din of battle covered his urgent footfalls as he pulled up beside the box. His fingers danced as he whispered the words of the incantation before tapping the lid of the box, producing a soft, audible pop. Bird lifted the lid off with ease, and the two finally beheld the object of the team’s maddening pursuit.

  Inside the box was a single stone. Roughly spherical and slightly larger than a fist, the uneven surface was flat grey despite appearing polished. Yellow crystals randomly studded the exterior, visibly transcending the stone at various angles in multiple places. Caked, drying dirt clung to one side, falling back into the box as Bird picked it up.

  The gnolls continued to force the demons back, inching closer to their position.

  Glancing around, the tabby grabbed a nearby rock of similar size, placed it into the box, and returned the lid.

  “Let’s go!” he hissed, “Grab my tail.”

  Glynfir reached out blindly until he felt the tabby’s invisible shoulder. Tracing his partner’s form, he took a firm grip on his feline guide rope. Bird started to move immediately. Not frantic, but with a much quicker pace than their initial incursion, the two retreated toward their friends.

  Hurry!

  The wizard mentally urged his partner forward and felt Bird respond. Ten yards out, the two broke into a run, gambling the increased sound against their sudden pending appearance. Reaching their base of operations, they dove behind the stone, bowling an unprepared Tsuta over in the process. As they came to rest behind the safety of their cover stone, breathing heavily, they both flickered into the visible spectrum.

  “We got it!” Glynfir whispered, grinning from ear to ear, as Bird held up the strange rock.

  Fifty yards away, the battle between demons and gnolls continued to rage as Tsuta took the stone from Bird’s outstretched hand.

  “What is that?” he asked, puzzled, hefting the rock in his palm. “It looks like iron and has quite a bit of weight.”

  The tabby shook his head. “I have no idea, we’ll have to figure it out later!”

  Tsuta held the stone out to Lunish. “Okay, Braids, you’re up!”

  The druid’s gaze was determined, though her lips were a thin, tight line across her face when she stepped forward, accepting the stone in both hands. It was too heavy for her to carry very far, but that wouldn’t matter.

  In a green flash, she shifted forms into the great horned owl, the stone and all the rest of her belongings disappearing as they always do. With a long, slow blink, Lunish launched herself into the air and took off for the Luminarium.

  As her feathered form disappeared into the leafy overhead cover, the sound of another winged creature taking flight, more reptilian than avian, whistled off to their left. The monk’s hands crackled with energy, his neck craning for a glimpse of the target. Just as quickly, it was gone. Tsuta turned back to the others, the magical glow fading from his hands as he offered a tight-lipped head shake.

  “I never saw it. It could have been anything.” He shrugged.

  “The familiar,” Glynfir hissed. “We didn’t see him among the others on the ground. What if he can shapeshift too, and watched the whole thing from the trees? I’ll bet he’s going for the stone.”

  The arcane crackle returned immediately to the monk’s fingers. Concentrating on Lunish, he fired off a mental warning.

  Watch out. We think the familiar is after you. He can fly. Don’t lead him back to the abbey. Good luck!

  “No reply,” he informed the others.

  The wizard began hopping from one leg to the other. “How can she fight that thing as an owl? That was her last shift. She can’t drop her form.”

  The monk placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She’ll figure it out. She’s more resilient than you think.”

  Nodding slowly, Glynfir turned to Bird. “By the way, I’m sorry for petting you earlier.”

  “What? You petted him?” Tsuta hissed, his face a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

  “He was invisible,” the wizard pleaded his case. “And I needed to find the tip of his tail so we could sneak back!”

  The bald monk narrowed his eyes and grimaced in disappointment, shaking his head.

  Bird snorted. “Next time, just buy me a drink first,” he quipped. “Let’s get out of here while everyone is still occupied.”

  Rising to their feet, a flash at the edge of the plain caught their attention. A golden circle of spiraling, magical energy, ten feet across, sprang to life, perpendicular to the ground just beyond the foot of the hill. As they looked on, the swirling interior distended into a bubble, let out a loud crack, and snapped back into a mirror-like, shimmering surface, undulating with magical sparks.

  Someone, or something else, was arriving.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma?

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