“I’m sorry for unloading on you earlier.” Whydah’s head was bowed, her cheeks flushed. “I was overwhelmed. Everything escalated so quickly, beyond what anyone expected. I realize you had no way of knowing.”

  “But you weren’t wrong,” Bird conceded, unconsciously thumbing his breastbone—the epicenter of Whydah’s recent barrage. “I ignored Teffel’s fourth rule and inserted all of us directly between an undead abomination and her desire for global conquest. That’s a pretty monumental screw-up.”

  Packs on their shoulders, the pair headed back to the mess hall after hurriedly gathering their belongings. The tabby’s head hung low, claws gently scraping the stone floor with each shuffling step.

  “Maybe.” Whydah hesitated. “But, to your point earlier, what if we never got involved? Then she would have the stone without anyone even knowing.”

  She stopped, fixing her gaze on his yellow eyes, her grip firm on his forearm. “None of us got up this morning wanting to be heroes, but I don’t think anyone would argue it’s a whole lot better than the alternative.”

  Bird nodded before returning his gaze to the stone floor. “Maybe, but now everyone in this abbey is a target. She will come, and their deaths will be on me.”

  Whydah released his forearm before shoving the tabby to the side. “Oh, stop!” Her tone was firm. “Give the rest of us some credit. We all chose to go along with the plan. It isn’t all on you, and this pity party doesn’t help anything.” The halfling pulled him into a hug, her ear pressed against his abdomen. “To have any chance, we need you at your bold, scheming best. Only that Bird can help us figure a way out of this.” She pushed him out to arm’s length, locking his gaze once more. “Now, pull your head out of your ass and move on. We can’t change what happened, but we can control what we do next, okay?” Whydah lowered her chin, eyebrows raised, waiting for a reaction.

  Bird nodded again. “Thanks, I needed that.”

  “Of course,” she chirped. “As I was trying to tell Tsuta the other night, that’s what friends are for!” Her stomach lurched when she spoke the word—friend. How long do I wait for him to figure it out? Hiding her inner conflict, she playfully pushed him backwards before turning on her heel, throwing open the door to the mess. Without looking back, she called over her shoulder, “If we live, we learn!”

  The squeak of the door’s metal hinge announced their arrival to the rest of the group, already gathered around the long table. Deflated faces painted with grim expressions turned as they entered.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Bird’s voice echoed off the stone walls. Whydah stifled a small smile, hearing some confidence return to his tone. Segwyn glanced at the others before speaking on the group’s behalf.

  “Well, as we discussed before breaking to pack our gear, we have to get out of here. The Luminarium and the Abbey of the Crystal Dawn are the first places she’s going to start looking. My family has a summer cabin in Eredmire. We could lie low there for a while.”

  “Are you sure you won’t come with us, Sifu?” Iskvold pressed the abbey master.

  Haft shook his head, the muscles on his jaw flexing. “No, my place is here, along with the initiates. Reinforcements from the Pact of the Brotherhood will start arriving with supplies today or tomorrow, and the beacons need to be restored.”

  “But what if she comes back here looking for the stone?” Glynfir asked.

  Haft shook his head again. “If she knows who you are, then she’ll know you’re not here very quickly. And if she doesn’t,” he shrugged, “we’re just a few monks rebuilding the order she already destroyed. Either way, with the stone no longer in our backyard, I don’t think we’ll be of any further interest to her.”

  With a slow nod, the wizard turned to the draconian. “What about you, Mister Glamos? I don’t see your pack either.”

  The draconian chuffed a puff of frost from his nose, his tail slowly weaving across the floor behind his seat. “As exciting as it was to be a part of an adventure again, I’ve decided to stay behind as well. Haft and I were talking, and I think I’ll stay here for a bit, just in case, before heading home.”

  “You’ll be much faster without all of us,” Haft interjected, nodding to Glamos.

  The sound of sliding pottery reverberated from the table’s surface as Tsuta dragged his mug, along with those of Lunish and Iskvold, into a straight line before speaking. “What about the stone? Do we carry it around with us?”

  “Why not?” Lunish challenged the bald monk. “We have a much better chance of defending ourselves with the stone.”

  “I’m afraid we would still lose head-to-head even with it, Lulu,” Glynfir admitted. “Her spells are much stronger than mine to start with, and she has triple amplification.”

  “And if she kills us…” Segwyn let the words hang in the air, “…then she has it.”

  “I think hiding it again is the only sensible option,” Bird said emphatically.

  “I agree.” The ranger nodded. “But where?”

  Glynfir snapped his fingers before pointing to Glamos. “Mister Glamos, could you show me the spell you use to hide your chest on the Ethereal plane?”

  The draconian’s eyes narrowed as he slowly nodded. “I can do better than that. I have it written on a scroll, like those others I gave you. But you’ll need a chest and a miniature replica to cast it.”

  “I’ve got a chest in the vault I’d be willing to donate to the cause.” Haft offered. “But I can’t help you with a replica.”

  “Where did you get yours?” Iskvold asked the draconian.

  Glamos pushed his shoulders back and raised his chin. “Carved it myself!”

  “We haven’t got time for that. We need to be gone from here before she can cast another plane gate spell.” Whydah reminded everyone.

  “Tell you what,” Glamos said, rising to his feet. “I’ll give you mine and carve a new miniature to match the old man’s chest.” He pointed a clawed thumb at Haft.

  The abbey master’s mustache twitched. “Be careful who you’re calling an old man, Frosty!”

  The draconian let out a snort, frigid air billowing from his nose.

  Glynfir nodded in appreciation, his brow wrinkled in thought. “Hypothetically speaking, what happens to the spell if the caster dies?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Glamos chuckled. “It will stay intact for a while, but with the caster dead, there’s no way to recall it. Eventually, the chest and all its contents are irretrievably lost on the Ethereal Plane.”

  “Okay, so if we do this, and she gets me, the stone stays out of her hands?” Glynfir checked his logic.

  Glamos considered the question for a moment. “In theory, she’d have a couple of months right after your death, where the chest still existed, and we know she can travel between planes.” He cocked one icy eyebrow. “So, I suppose she could go and hunt for it on the Ethereal Plane, but it’s an awfully big place as I understand it, and where would she even begin to look?” The draconian’s eyes narrowed as he reflected for a moment. “That said, for every day the chest is hidden, there is a small chance the spell fails, sending it back to this plane, leaving its contents exposed for anyone to find. It happened to me once in my cottage, so no harm done in that case, but with this level of consequence…”

  “I guess that’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Glynfir admitted begrudgingly.

  “Maybe not…” Glamos’s eyes twinkled mysteriously as his face broke into a small grin. “Do you remember the Stasis Sphere spell I gave you?”

  “Of course!” The wizard nodded. “But, I hadn’t found a use for it yet.”

  “That was always my problem as well, particularly as it can only be cast as a ritual.” Glamos conceded. “But maybe this is it. If we lock your stone in a stasis sphere before using the chest to hide it, then it would be basically undetectable, even from scrying.”

  Glynfir extended the draconian’s logic. “And if the chest spell fails, the stone isn’t just lying around on the prime material plane for anyone to find. It would still be protected from magic, space, and time within the stasis sphere.”

  “Exactly,” Glamos confirmed.

  Satisfied with that answer, Glynfir nodded. “That sounds like the best we can do.”

  “How is carrying the replica chest around any better than carrying the stone?” Lunish pressed the wizard. “She could just magically compel you to recall it.”

  “Because we’re not going to carry the replica around, Lulu.” A self-satisfied smile split Glynfir’s face. “We’re going to stash it with Grym!”

  The druid’s eyebrows jumped. “That’s perfect!” She shot him a sidelong glance. “You know, Glynnie, I don’t give you enough credit sometimes. I’ll try to be better at that.”

  Within an hour and after a hurried lunch, the group assembled for departure outside the courtyard gate. Glamos and Haft looked on as the initiates helped to load packs and gear onto the mounts.

  Tsuta gestured to the horses. “You’re sure about this, Sifu?”

  Haft waved him off. “It’s fine. The Pact will send more, and we don’t have a stable anyway.”

  Iskvold glanced around. “Aren’t we still one short, even with Lunish’s wildshape?”

  “As a warhorse, I can take you and Glynnie,” the druid called over her shoulder, fastening the buckle on her satchel. “As long as you don’t mind riding double. Just give your pack to one of the others.”

  “Works for me!” the drow confirmed, passing her pack to Segwyn, who promptly secured it with his own.

  In a green flash, the druid’s gnomish form was replaced by the sorrel mare, complete with twin red braids woven into her mane. Iskvold hopped onto her back before offering a hand to Glynfir. “Up you get, Mustache!”

  Between Iskvold’s assistance from above and the interlaced hands of the ranger acting as a step, the wizard scrabbled into position.

  Returning to his horse at the front of the column, Segwyn mounted up as Haft pushed back his shoulders. His chin rose as he spoke to the group.

  “It’s clear that you’re in over your heads. Take care to avoid the sense of invulnerability that often plagues the minds of the young. Your aspirations outstrip your abilities, and the bodies we’ve buried over the last few days demonstrate how quickly things can get very real. Be careful out there.” He turned to the draconian wizard. “Do you have anything you’d like to add?”

  Glamos snorted, his tail making a wide, sweeping arc in the dirt, kicking up a small dust cloud in the process. “Yes. Ignore everything he just said! If you’re going to have any chance at defeating a lich and living to tell the tale, there is no place for caution.”

  He clasped his clawed hands behind his back, bowing his head in thought momentarily. “It has yet to be determined if your aspirations outstrip your abilities.” He nodded in deference to the abbey master. “By all means, be careful, and trust each other. But, make no mistake, you can’t win by playing it safe. Success will require some crazy, unhinged shit, and a good measure of luck, so be bold – just like you were in getting the stone.”

  Haft’s mustache bristled as he turned on the old wizard, shaking his head. “Why do you do that...undermine my advice?”

  Glamos chuckled, a wry smile stretching across his reptilian lips. “Because, old man, you always speak to them like a father. Given the circumstances, that needs to be balanced with some crazy uncle talk.”

  “I have no idea what to take away from that,” Tsuta muttered.

  With one final wave, the group headed south under cloudy skies. Three hours later, Segwyn walked his horse into the same camp they had abandoned four days earlier. Sliding to the ground, the ranger looped his reins around a nearby branch. Crouching down, he examined the ground. The others dismounted, Whydah and Glynfir with some assistance, before an arcane flash restored Lunish’s druidic form.

  “Anything?” Whydah asked.

  Segwyn shook his head and rose to his feet, wiping his hands. “No one’s been here since we left.”

  “Great,” Whydah chirped. “I’ll put the tiny hut up there.” She pointed to the magical tent’s prior location. “If you all want to pile your stuff nearby.”

  “I think we have a couple of hours of daylight left. Should we visit Grym first and then set up camp for the night?” Lunish asked the group.

  A chorus of confirmations came in response while everyone stretched their legs and unburdened the horses. Glynfir retrieved the miniature replica of Glamos’ chest, tucking it into his robes.

  “I suggest we let the horse graze while we’re paying our respects,” Segwyn offered as he gathered up all four sets of reins. “There is a nice grassy area not far from the gravesite that should do the trick.”

  “As long as they stay out of the ditch,” Bird quipped. “I’ll bet those demon corpses are pretty ripe by now.”

  Lunish’s tone was somber as she led the group toward two pink crab apple trees peeking out from the overwhelming green of the riverside canopy. “It’s hard to believe it’s been only four days since we buried him. So much has happened since then.”

  Glynfir quickened his pace to pull alongside the gnome. “I’m sure he’d love to hear all about it, Lulu.”

  The summer sun had dried the earth covering the Shan soldier’s final resting place. Still visibly fresh, its color had faded slightly. By contrast, the limestone rocks piled over their fallen dwarven friend seemed to shine brighter white as they dried, thanks to the same morning exposure. Pink petals from the blossoms above dappled both graves, the first signs of nature reclaiming its own. The group gathered at the foot of the cairn in a moment of silence before Lunish finally spoke.

  “Hello again, old friend.” She laid her hand across the white stones. “I have so much to tell you, and a favor to ask.”

  Over the next several minutes, the gnome recounted the activities of the previous four days in a one-way conversation. Silent tears mixed with the odd laugh as she covered all the highlights.

  Lunish drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry to disturb your peace, but we need you to do one last thing for us, Grym, before you rest.” She turned to Glynfir, palm open, sunlight glistening off her wet cheeks. He dropped the miniature carving into her hand. “This little chest is the key to the stone’s location on the Ethereal Plane. In case we don’t make it through, we need you to guard it, keep it from her. You’re the only one we trust.”

  Pressing her eyelids tightly together to clear her vision, she nodded to the wizard. Energy crackled to life around his fingers as Glynfir slid his palm from right to left. With a dull, rasping grind, the mounded stones above Grym’s torso shifted to the side, exposing his still form below.

  Lunish stepped between the two graves before kneeling to gently place the replica chest onto the blade of Grym’s axe. Rising to her feet, the druid retreated to Glynfir’s side as his outstretched hand magically pushed the stones back into place.

  “I hope we’ll be back soon with more good news. Goodbye, for now.” The gnome’s voice trailed off as others murmured their farewells before stepping solemnly back out onto the road.

  Iskvold waited for the druid, pulling her into a hug at the roadside. Muffled by the drow’s robes, her voice cracked. “How do you do it…cope with the grief? I lost one friend, you lost twenty-one, yet you seem so much more in control. I’m a mess every time I think about it.”

  Iskvold let out a short hollow laugh, her hand holding the smaller woman’s head against her body. “I’m not sure ‘in control’ is an accurate description. Have you noticed the unbridled rage habit I’ve recently developed?” Pushing the druid out to arm's length, she looked down. “I don’t think there is any one answer on how to get past this kind of loss, unfortunately. For me, meditation helps.” The drow tilted her head in acknowledgement before offering a wry smile. “Along with violently pummeling every demon I find!” Turning on her heel, Iskvold guided Lunish back toward camp, an arm around her shoulders. “All I can suggest is, you’ve got to find the inspiration or distraction that works for you.”

  The Glimmerstone Enigma and The Siremirian Conundrum?

  Join my substack for: