Whydah scrambled hurriedly along the shore of the Shand, through brush and over deadfall. One eye scanned the undergrowth for a long, thin stick; the other scoured the river’s surface for the druid woman. Where is she? Though near the headwaters, the river was more than deep enough to drown a gnome, particularly if injured. A sparkle of green energy flashed along the bank, and the druid materialized, dripping wet and staring back at her in surprise.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Whydah. My friend and I saw you being attacked by those creatures and came to help. He’s still fighting them.” She nodded back toward the road. “Are you okay? How did you…?” Her question was cut short by the rumble and flash of Glynfir’s fireworks.

  “Lunish. And I’m fine.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I just shifted into a trout and swam back.”

  The bard felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. A druid! Of course she can shift forms! Whydah offered her a hand across a fallen log at the river’s edge, and gnome and halfling scrambled back up the bank towards the others.

  “Could you shift into a dragon, or something?” Whydah asked, clawing for a handhold in the leaf litter along the embankment. “We could use one right about now…”

  The gnome snorted. “Nope. Not that powerful. Best I can do is a bear or a wolf.”

  The pair emerged from the roadside brush fifty yards downstream to a grim situation. Bird hung helplessly in mid-air as both creatures moved in for the kill. Glynfir frantically rummaged through his satchel. Grym lay motionless on the road, a spear haft pointing skywards from his chest. They broke into a sprint towards their friends.

  Segwyn scrambled to his feet. The lightning bolt had cleaved the forest right in front of him. Sideways trajectory. Not natural. It came from the road. The smoldering nearby greenery wafted grey smoke beneath the canopy, shrouding the area in a white haze. The intermittent cracks and thumps of surrendering foliage tapered off as the stoic calm of the forest reasserted itself.

  A wren’s call trilled from his left—Darmor, judging by the distance. The ranger picked his way to the source, peeking through the heavy cover towards the river. Too thick to see. Joining his closer companions, Segwyn found them huddled in observation. Mimicking their low crouch at the edge of the tree line, he followed their gaze south down the road.

  A mustached, half-elf wizard and a cat-like humanoid wielding two oddly shaped swords battled two black, skeletal figures. Sunlight glinted from the slick ooze covering their lean, hunched forms. Long spiny tails whipped back and forth as they circled the cat. A single horn protruding from the back of their skulls, curling up and forward, was unmistakable, though the ranger had never seen one first-hand.

  These were Sklir. Known as “the ebony death” in elvish, they were the assassins and recruiters of Orcus’s demon horde. Formidable if faced alone, but manageable with their current numbers. Waiting on the rest of the team, the elves watched silently as a bead of red energy sprang from the wizard’s hand before expanding into a massive ball of fire. The group collectively winced as the incendiary landed, swallowing ally and foe. This cat has fantastic reflexes. He almost avoided that entirely!

  The ranger felt more than heard the movement behind him, signaling the arrival of the others. Segwyn turned to address the team.

  “These are Sklir. We can manage two of them. They can cast, so bows only, stay out of range.” He pointed south along the tree line. “Let’s set up in a tight line at the edge of the cover. First shot on my mark. Halisk, string black second and hold.”

  Seeing her nod in confirmation, he scanned the eyes of the other team members—concerned but not scared.

  “We’ve got this! Now, let’s move while we still have help.”

  The Blades broke the huddle and moved, unnoticed, closer to their targets. The stench of sulfur intensified as they got within range. Once settled, Segwyn issued a series of hand signals, silently dividing their attention. The first six aimed at the enemy on the right, while the two armed with blue arrows turned to the demon on the left. The ranger nocked a blue arrow and also trained left, his open hand overhead, prepared to signal the first volley.

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  Segwyn was momentarily mesmerized by the tabby’s peculiar technique, almost entirely contradictory to his extensive training in dual wielding. Instead of tiring his opponent by forcing constant defensive maneuvers, the cat used one sword to create openings for a kill shot from the second. Ruthless! If it weren’t for the stiff hides and protective ooze of the demons’ physiques, they would likely be dead already.

  What he had no counter for was their magic. As the cat was levitated into the air, Segwyn saw one of the swords begin to glow like a burning ember and opened the palm of his raised hand ever so slightly. The sinew of eight stretching bowstrings whispered their readiness in response.

  Glynfir was out of options and out of time. Fire and Lightning both failed. What else have I got? He mentally ran through his inventory of spells while fishing through the satchel, hoping the inventory might spark some epiphany. The chatter of steel on stone returned his attention to the road. Seeing his only standing ally, one hand empty, suspended helplessly in midair by the demon’s spell, he simply reacted.

  Thrusting his outstretched fingers toward the closest attacker, five red darts of energy instantly sprang to life and sped across the intervening distance. Their trajectories diverged, crisscrossing with each other on the journey, reconverging in a series of percussive thuds along the creature’s corrugated spine. The Sklir staggered forward, barely staying upright, and shook its head to reorient. Its spell broken, Bird’s glowing blade immediately regained its silver hue but remained stubbornly out of the reach of its hovering owner. The son of an Otyugh felt that!

  Segwyn watched from the other side of the battlefield as the red pulses staggered the farther creature. Now! He dropped his arm, and six strings sang, sending a speeding blur of white toward the back of the second Sklir. One glanced off the creature’s shoulder and veered wildly toward the river, the other five hit home, the impact snapping the demon’s head backward. Black ichor spattered the road’s surface as the creature spun, roaring in frustration towards yet another new foe, not realizing its spell had broken. The ranger smoothly drew his bow, and three blue-fletched arrows stood at the ready.

  Dropping back to his feet, Bird felt the tide of battle shift. Seeing one opponent staggered and the other with its back turned, he seized the opportunity. In two quick steps, the cat closed the distance on his distracted enemy and leaped into the air. Grabbing the base of the demon’s horn, he pulled down with all his weight. The creature’s long, charcoal body bent awkwardly backward, then lost balance. With one smooth stroke mid-fall, the tabby slid the blade under the demon’s chin and drew the katana’s entire length of forged steel across its throat.

  The two combatants hit the ground with a thud. Arrow shafts snapped against the compacted gravel, the creature’s weight and the tabby’s momentum driving them deeper into its torso. A large black pool quickly spread across the road’s surface. Bird watched the creature’s glowing red eyes flicker and go dark.

  It barely registered to Whydah that Lunish had peeled off at some point during their race to the wizard’s position. Who’s shooting arrows? Emboldened by Bird’s acrobatic takedown, she shifted her attention to the remaining demon with renewed hope. Pulling up next to Glynfir, she was already humming the discordant melody. Let’s see how you like some more psychic pain! Releasing the spell, Whydah felt her mind tethered deep inside the creature’s twisted brain. Unspeakable horror and evil swirled, trying desperately to deflect her advance with torturous and repulsive imagery. She gagged instinctively at the mental counterattack.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead, bile rising in the back of her throat, she mentally pushed against the resistance. Breaking through, the bard quickly anchored the dissonant whisper and severed her connection. The demon reared back, hissing, violently shaking its head from side to side. Its glowing eyes, burning with hatred, settled on her. Letting out an enraged howl, it fled in the opposite direction. Relief washed over her. That should buy him a little time.

  Compelled to flee by her spell, the lumbering Sklir stumbled directly toward the Verdant Blades. Segwyn drew his bowstring and shouted,

  “Now!”

  All three arrows sank into the creature’s chest, a distorted bubble of magical energy forming with each strike, swelling and bursting in a loud pop. Launched off its feet by the enhanced impact, the demon fell heavily on the now bloodied and blackened gravel beside Bird. Ready to pounce, the cat watched its eyes pulse briefly with one last flash and turn vacant.

  Everything was suddenly still. The uneasy silence that arrives moments after a fierce battle descended on the group. No one moved or spoke until a wail of mourning echoed off the surrounding hills.

  “NOOOOOO!”

  All eyes turned to Lunish, kneeling and hunched over Grym’s unmoving form. The green energy faded from her hands as she slumped forward, her head on his chest. The gnome’s shoulders shook erratically as she sobbed silently over her fallen friend.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma?

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