“At least we’ve had decent traveling weather,” Lunish announced, the afternoon sun on her left and the river on her right as they moved north towards their destination.

  “Aye, it certainly could have been worse!” Grym agreed.

  Their last day and a half had passed without incident, aside from Glynfir’s soggy footwear. The only meaningful encounter had occurred just an hour before, luckily at one of the river’s quieter stretches, or they may have had no warning. Still wary of pursuit from Chagrothlond, the sudden drum of approaching hoof-beats sent everyone scrambling for the brambles. The group watched silently from the dense roadside overgrowth as a single rider in Shan uniform overtook their position before disappearing around the next bend. Once they were confident he was traveling alone, the trio cautiously returned to the path.

  Carved from the dense mix of black pine and birch, the steadily rising road occupied the narrow stretch of Shan territory between Eredmire and the Shand, its shape dictated by the river’s meandering path. Just two parallel dirt tracks separated by a strip of low grass and foliage, the trail was too narrow for three abreast. Rather than continue ducking and weaving around every protruding branch, Glynfir chose to follow a few steps back.

  “What’s our story when we get to the Luminarium? Do we tell them who we work for and why we’re there?” The wizard threw out the question to the group. Grym answered first.

  “I don’t see why not. It’s not like we’re hunting for secret information this time, and what other plausible reason would the three of us have for hiking all this way on foot?” He paused. “While I’ve never met a mountain I didn’t like, it’s less believable coming from you two.”

  “Maybe we are interested in becoming monks—a career change?” Glynfir offered.

  The druid snorted, shaking her head, her two long braids bouncing in exaggeration. She had decided to stick with the new look, imprisoning her well-worn, loyal hat deep in her pack.

  “Ha! You can’t go one night sleeping rough without complaining. You wouldn’t last a week on the straw mats of a monastery!” she teased him.

  “I reckon I could become a monk. Trade my axe for a staff…” The dwarf made chopping motions in the air, “…turn these hands into deadly weapons!”

  “You’d certainly stand a better chance than Glynnie!” Lunish agreed.

  “I’m not that bad,” the wizard objected. “My spells are far more complicated than yours. They require material components and take a lot of discipline and practice!”

  “Fair point. Okay, I take it back,” Lunish relented. “Though I still think it looks pretty suspicious for us to roll up to a monastery in the middle of nowhere—that’s just been attacked no less—and claim we’re there to join the initiate program.”

  “Well, when you put it like that—the truth, it is!” Glynfir agreed. “The Guardians are concerned with the attack and whoever is behind it, and want to help. Does that sound right?”

  “I think so,” the dwarf confirmed, turning to Lunish. “Any update from Snuggles?”

  Having previously agreed on her female gender, the group now regularly referred to the anonymous voice that delivered all communications from the Guardians as Snuggles.

  “Not a peep since the initial instructions before we left the cave, but that’s not surprising.”

  “I’m sure she’s dumbfounded by our recent demonstration of prowess and bravery, and the resulting lust and admiration have left her speechless!” Glynfir quipped

  The trio shared a laugh, Lunish’s bright, soprano giggle rising above the river’s rushing din.

  Just up ahead, where the road bent hard to the left, accommodating the river’s eddy, two gaunt charcoal figures hunched over fresh corpses. The tip of each hooked horn pecked into the fallen horse and rider as they greedily tore strips of flesh and organs from the increasingly skeletal forms. Alerted by the distant sound of Gnomish laughter, both heads snapped up, and the figures froze. Glowing red eyes looked first at each other and then toward their arriving prey.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Blood dripping from their chins and cheeks, they exchanged a short series of low growls and clicks, grabbed their spears, and scrambled toward the approaching voices. Neither fully upright nor on all fours, the demons’ loping gait quickly covered the distance between their recent kill and the sharp turn concealing them from view. With one final shared glance and a gruff grunt, they soundlessly sank into the overgrowth on either side of the trail to wait.

  Two pairs of red embers tracked the unwary travelers with raptor-like intensity, not out of hunger, but hatred. Long, sinewy muscles tensed in anticipation. At thirty feet, they made their move. The first began to weave magic in a hushed guttural whisper, red strands of energy coiling around the tips of its blood-stained claws. Covered by the river’s perpetual babble, it spoke the final words, flicking the energy toward the chainmail-clad dwarf.

  Within seconds, Grym screamed and dropped to the ground, grabbing his chest. The metal links of his chain shirt glowed an angry orange, sending shimmers of heat rising into the air. The heated metal quickly ignited his tunic, the fit trapping burning fabric against his skin. Every metal link branded his skin, driving a sharp spike of pain into his torso. A thousand tiny torturous teeth seared his skin. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even think. The dwarf instinctively rolled on the ground, futilely flopping in the dirt like a fish out of water, desperate to extinguish the flames. He clawed at the armor, his screams elevating as the metal links seared into the palms of his hands. The acrid smell of burning flesh and smoldering fabric curled into the air.

  The demons exploded onto the road, their long legs propelling them from the cover of the undergrowth. With two quick strides, they set upon the surprised trio. The first launched a crude spear at the wizard as he gazed dumbfounded at his writhing companion. The jagged tip caught the half-elf just below the ribs, opening a gash in his side and scattering the contents of his satchel in a debris field at his feet. Grunting from the impact, he dropped to one knee.

  The second demon’s lips stretched into a macabre smile, unnaturally retreating toward the base of its skull. Bloody tendrils of saliva stretched between its jaws like a spider web blanketing a forest of fangs. What began as a rising hiss crescendoed to a bellowing roar as it launched itself towards the defenseless dwarf. With both hands on the spear, it drove the blackened point directly into Grym’s chest as the dwarf clawed futilely at the buckles on his armor. The sickening thud of metal on bone shocked Lunish into action, and she immediately dropped to her knees at her friend’s side.

  A rush of air buffeted her cheeks as the demon’s swing whistled over her head. Arcane energy coursed through her as she instinctively thrust her hands, palms down, onto Grym’s chest without thinking. Recoiling instinctively when her exposed flesh met the searing chain mail, she shifted quickly to his face, pouring the healing energy of her spell into his body. It’s not enough! She could feel his life force declining faster than she could replenish it.

  “I can’t stop it!” she shouted.

  The wizard’s eyes hurriedly scanned the contents of his satchel scattered across the ground. He settled on a short amber, fur-tipped rod, just out of reach. Rolling to his left, he grabbed the rod. Removing his other hand from the wound in his side, he frantically wove his fingers, flicking droplets of his blood into the air, and spit out the words of the incantation.

  With both demons in his sights, the half-elf clapped his hands together on the rod and released the spell. A flash of lightning arced from the rod, ripping through both demons, leaving a dull, glowing wound on the black skin of their chests. Each wavered slightly from the impact before resuming their attack. The wizard shook his head in disbelief, cold sweat surfacing on his back.

  A series of cracks and pops echoed in the distance as the charge of electricity cascaded into the forest north of the road. Seeing the arcane web sputter and return to the digits of the creature’s clawed hand, the wizard shouted to his gnomish companion.

  “It’s using a spell to heat his armor, Lulu. We have to break its concentration!”

  “How do we do that?!?”

  “Attack him!”

  The gnome risked a glance toward the farther creature, magic crackling from its pointed fingertips as it bore down on Glynfir, before dismissing it, in favor of the more immediate threat.

  “I’m trying to keep him alive!” The white haze of smoldering roadside foliage blanketed the area. As the intensity of Grym’s wailing began to dwindle, Lunish, seeing her healing fail, changed course, fumbling around in her pack.

  I need a weapon. I’m not a fighter. How am I supposed to-

  Her hand closed around a wooden shaft, wrenching a small carpenter’s hammer from the bag. Springing to her feet, she raised it high, shoulders set. The demon coiled, preparing to strike. Spreading its jaws, it hissed again, this time low and taunting, almost like laughter. Bloody spittle dappled her face and chest, and the hammer wavered; her shoulders retreating slightly forward. Her level gaze landed just above the creature’s knees. The breeze tickled her damp brow. Her jaw began to tremble before she bit down hard, resolved to hold her ground over her incapacitated friend.

  Maybe today is the day we all die.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma?

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