A demon is any chimera or horror that is based on a human or any other sentient being. Ghasts of this type are usually referred to as wraiths instead.

  Excerpt from 'Ozam's Compendium of ?ther Beings'

  It was late in the afternoon when Fifth Lance arrived at the ruins, guided by a ranger called Bali.

  “This is the place?” Dovell asked Bali as he looked over a group of buildings covered in the wild vegetation that grew all around.

  “This is it,” Bali replied, smiling and showing a set of white teeth that stood out even in the faint light. Bali was a Duster and a member of the pale-bronze-skinned Jelabi clan that lived far to the east of here on the other side of the Fire Mountains.

  Despite their lands being part of the Dust Empire, the Jelabi clan never gave that fact much weight. It was a poor region not unlike the north of Rios, and there were a substantial number of Jelabi among the pioneers both here and the rest of the Frontier. Some of the easternmost burchts even had a Jelabi majority, which caused most people in that region to speak a pidgin version of Rion that was heavily infused with words from the Jelabi dialect.

  Fortunately, Bali also spoke the standard Rion used by Dovell and his men.

  “Let's get to it, then,” Dovell said, dismounting his horse. “Bastian, Harra, tie up the horses and start looking for a good place to camp.”

  There was a large building in the centre of the complex, mostly intact as far as Dovell could see, with several smaller buildings surrounding it. It might have once been a glory to behold, but it was little to look at now. To Dovell's amazement, it appeared that the Second Bane had spared this place; the destruction inflicted upon the buildings was rather caused by the march of time or because of the surrounding plant growth, which had brought about the partial collapse of many of the buildings.

  All in all, the only thing that marked this as a special place was the large statue of a woman placed in front of the entrance of the roofless main building.

  “An old goddess?” Dovell asked Bali as they approached.

  “Indeed,” Bali said. “Though I cannot say which one. When the Dominus Savant destroyed them all, most of their names vanished with them.”

  “You don't believe there were actual gods, do you?” Nissek asked with a frown. “It was just a bunch of people claiming to have divine power, using magic under the guise of religion to keep themselves in power.”

  “I do not believe,” Bali replied as he shielded his eyes from the sun to look at the statue, “yet there are many among our people who do. They say the Dominus Savant really did wage a war against the gods, only to find that he could only win by destroying them all at once. Why else would he cast the spell that broke the world for the second time?”

  “He cast that spell because he was losing the war he started,” Nissek returned, “and it got everyone thirty years of suffering under the Second Bane of ?ther. It wiped out three quarters of humanity. The only good that came out of it was that magic is no longer restricted to a select few.”

  “Was it?” Bali asked. “Until the invention of runestones, the magic guilds effectively held all the power, did they not?”

  “True,” Nissek admitted, “but at least they didn't claim their magic was born of a divine force rather than the ?ther. Or force people to pay tribute to non-existing gods like this one here.” He waved his hand at the statue.

  “She looks nice, though,” Tobiac put in.

  Dovell inspected the statue more closely. It showed a woman in a loose summer dress who appeared to be dancing. She held a flute in one hand and looked down upon the viewer with an expression of benevolence. It was a masterful piece of work regardless of how one felt about the subject it depicted. It reminded him of the statues at Hydara Cemetery, as the style was similar. Unlike those statues, however, nobody had ever bothered to clean up this one. It was covered with a fine layer of green grime and bird droppings.

  Yet even now the finer details of the sculpture were still visible. Especially the face, where the sculptors had gone as far as to create minor crow's feet near the edges of the woman's eyes.

  Surprising they included those, Dovell thought. Aren't goddesses supposed to be perfect? Or is she supposed to be a middle-aged woman? A mother figure of some kind?

  He turned away from the statue as he wasn't here to appreciate the trappings of a past long gone. He was here to find clues to solve present-day problems.

  “Bali,” Dovell said, “how likely is it that we'll run into ?ther beings here?”

  “I am afraid I cannot say,” Bali answered. “We are still in the area that the Demon purges regularly, but even he cannot be everywhere at once. Small horrors sometimes wander into this area if he is too busy dealing with greater threats.” Bali shrugged. “So in answer to your question, it is unlikely, but not impossible.”

  “If it's only small ones, we can deal with that,” Dovell said. “Nissek, Rooy, set up some warning sigils with a small force charge.” He gestured towards the gaps between the many buildings. “And mark them clearly; I don't want any of us stumbling into them.”

  “Sir,” Bastian called loudly from some distance away. “Over here.”

  Dovell hurried towards him and found him looking at an abandoned campsite. Several large pieces of stone had been arranged in a circle around a blackened spot.

  The remains of a fire pit.

  A short distance away, Dovell could see the remains of a small broken barrel. It was too new to be part of the ruins. He picked it up, allowing a sour smell to enter his nose. “A sandwine barrel,” he said. “This probably belonged to the expedition.”

  “It looks like they stayed in that building over there,” Bastian said, pointing. “There's a clear trail going from the fire pit to its entrance.”

  Dovell entered the building Bastian had pointed out and looked around. It consisted of two rooms, each with small windows providing a modest amount of light. Both the rooms showed signs of being recently swept, as the floors were much cleaner than one would expect from an ages-old ruin.

  “You want to set up camp here, sir?” Bastian asked, having followed him inside.

  “This will do,” Dovell said, placing his pack on the ground.

  A loud yelp came from outside.

  Dovell and Bastian rushed out to see what had happened, only to find Nissek and Rooy laughing at Tobiac, who was sitting on the grass and staring wide-eyed at a nearby bush.

  “What happened?” Dovell asked, looking at each of the men in turn. To his relief, it didn't seem serious.

  “Tobiac just had his first encounter with a wild chimera,” Nissek said, tears in his eyes. “He didn't take it so well.”

  “Bah,” Tobiac said as he climbed to his feet. “You deliberately told me to check this bush just to startle me.”

  “Don't you like giant ants?” Rooy asked with mock innocence.

  Dovell stepped forward and pulled back the branches of the bush. Two very large black ants scuttled out from underneath, each holding a small branch in their mandibles. They were each as big as a man's thumb, but they seemed more concerned with going about their business than with being a threat.

  “I thought the Demon kept this area clean,” Tobiac complained with a sullen look as he patted the dust from his pants.

  “The Demon has no interest in chimeras,” Bali said, who had also come over to see what the fuss was about. “Unlike ghasts and horrors, they aren't attracted to ?ther, nor do they disturb it; as such they are of no regard to him.”

  “Wait,” Tobiac said, realizing what Bali was saying. “So there are chimeras here?”

  “Don't worry,” Dovell said as he watched the ants disappear in the grass. “Chimeras act just like common animals. They just tend to look stranger. Or a bit bigger.”

  “Well, I am worried,” Tobiac said. “How many of those ants are in a colony? I bet they could bite off my finger in a single bite.”

  “The ant thief is keeping their population well under control,” Bali said with a reassuring smile.

  “Ant thieves are also chimeras, by the way,” Nissek offered helpfully, drying his eyes.

  “Okay, enough of that,” Dovell commanded. “We have work to do here. Start searching the immediate area and all the buildings. Nissek, get out the scrying stones. I want to cover as wide an area as possible before dark.”

  “Yes sir,” several voices replied in acknowledgement.

  The sun had sunk below the tree-line by the time Dovell found himself in front of the goddess statue once more. The scrying had not revealed anything special, and neither had the contents of the temple complex itself. The only thing of note they had found was a table with several artefacts laid out on it with numbered labels attached. More leftovers from the expedition. The items were all common things, though: small statuettes, some bronzeware, a steel knife with an elaborate decorated hilt and some other tools whose function they couldn't determine. An archaeologist would have loved them, but to Dovell and his lance they were useless. All they showed was that the expedition had left in such a hurry that they couldn't be bothered to take these items with them. Dovell had them packed up regardless, not wanting to risk them having some significance that he simply could not see.

  What were you hiding here? he thought as he looked at the dancing goddess. What was so important that it left so many casualties in its wake?

  A foreboding feeling suddenly seized Dovell's chest and he reeled, taking a step back from the statue. He had the impression he had experienced this hollow feeling before.

  What's this?

  Dovell turned his head to look at Harra stacking wood into the fire pit, and his gaze briefly passed another statue standing at the side of the pit area.

  He froze. Was there a statue there?

  As if hit by lightning, he snapped back to look directly at the statue, straining one of his neck muscles in the process.

  The statue was a monster; solemnly seated on a flat boulder and eyeing the men before it coldly. Its fur was a uniform dark-grey colour, which had caused Dovell to nearly miss it on first glance. None of his men had so far spotted it either; it simply sat there unmoving and in great silence.

  A warning shout started to form in his throat, but before he could yell, Bali spoke from behind Dovell with a loud voice. “Great Lord of the Tower, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

  Bastian and Rooy looked up in surprise to see who Bali was speaking to, then spotted the monster. Their hands instantly went to the hilts of their swords, but Dovell finally managed to form words.

  “Everyone, stay your hands,” he commanded. He had just realized where he had experienced the forbidding feeling before and what that monster was.

  The Demon of the Tower.

  Slowly, Dovell approached the Demon, his entire body tense and the dull pain in his neck elevated by the sudden sharpness of his senses.

  Why is the Demon here? Did we do something that was forbidden? But we only performed some scrying. Nothing even near high-tier magic.

  The rest of the lance appeared to share Dovell's tension, as they all stood frozen in place. The only one who didn't seem worried at all was Bali, who was smiling his bright smile as if his closest friend had just appeared.

  Dovell clenched his jaw. He had resolved not to do anything that might involve the Demon, but it appeared he was not to be so lucky. Fortunately, it seemed the Demon had no ill intentions as it simply sat there, showing no signs of hostility. Now that Dovell had come closer, he got a better look at it.

  It was a large being; as big as a small cow, yet with the sleek build of a mountain cat. It was even sitting in a position that a cat would adopt: leaning on its back legs with the other two placed in front. It had a dark-grey mane that went up the back of its neck and ended in a very steep widow's peak, leaving the sides of its head bald. The face was vaguely human, with a flat nose, a thick forehead and a wide mouth that seemed to hide an array of sharp teeth, though Dovell could only see the points of two fangs. The ears were twice the size of a human's and ended in a peculiar two-point corner rather than being round. Equally different were its front legs, which ended in hands rather than paws. Dovell could see it was leaning on its knuckles.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  All in all, much like the Tower it lived in, the Demon did not appear as threatening as Dovell had imagined. Nonetheless, he knew that meant little. The Demon was an age-old being, most likely spawned during the Second Bane, four hundred years ago. Since then it had continuously battled the vast amount of horrors that roamed the Wastes to keep Hertwolf and its lodestones safe for a purpose only the Demon knew.

  Only a few of the Demon's battles had ever been observed, yet they all had one thing in common: the Demon had dealt with the various threats easily where entire details of burcht blades would have stood no chance.

  If this turns into a fight, we're all dead, Dovell thought. Strangely enough, the realization reduced his anxiety. I suppose that's what you get if the outcome of the battle is decided.

  He pushed the thought away. There was no battle right now, and the Demon did not seem to be preparing for one. I should only care about making certain it stays that way.

  Bali spoke again. “We are here on an investigation, my Lord,” he said, answering an unspoken question. “We are most certainly not here with any ill intent.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “This is the first time we came here, I assure you,” Bali continued, again answering a question that nobody seemed to have heard but him. “These men here are from Rios, a city far south of here.”

  Again silence. Dovell noticed that the Demon was looking intently at Bali, but its mouth was not moving.

  “Of course you know of it,” Bali said, bowing his head. “I would not dare to doubt your wisdom or knowledge.”

  The Demon is talking to him, Dovell realized. But how? Telepathy? Can it do that without being attuned?

  Bali pointed towards Dovell. “This is Guard-captain Messchiel; he can answer your questions better than I can in that regard, I am afraid to say.”

  The Demon flicked his gaze towards Dovell; so far the only thing about it that had moved at all.

  “Why are you here?” a deep male voice asked inside Dovell's head. It was a voice that sounded surprisingly human apart from a deep humming timbre underneath that resonated inside Dovell's skull.

  Dovell wasted no time in answering and made his voice as firm as possible. “We are here on an investigation regarding the disappearance of a magic guild inside our city. We are hoping that we can find some kind of clue here to what happened to them.”

  “Why here?” the voice asked in a commanding tone.

  “They sent an expedition here,” Dovell said. “They found a particular item that we believe is linked to their later disappearance.”

  “Which of the two was the expedition?”

  Dovell hesitated. Which of the two? What does it mean?

  “I'm sorry, I'm not certain I understand what you mean.”

  The Demon raised its front leg and stretched its hand, revealing three sharp black fingers; each as long as the dagger in Dovell's belt. It extended two of them into the air as if lecturing a child.

  “Two groups came here during the past moons,” the voice said, reverberating in Dovell's head. “Which of those was the expedition?”

  Dovell was stunned. Two groups came here? If one of those was the expedition, then the others must have been... “The group I'm referring to came here for a few days over a moon ago. They were dressed in white and blue.”

  “And the ones that came after?”

  Dovell felt his heart sink in his chest. The dark assailants came here as well.

  After realizing what had happened to the people who went with the expedition, he had feared that the dark assailants would also come here to eliminate any remaining evidence.

  He pushed away his disappointment, however, as the Demon still expected an answer.

  “I cannot say for certain,” Dovell said. “Yet I believe they are the group that were responsible for the disaster that befell the White Candle guild. They no doubt came here to cover their tracks.”

  This time the Demon did not respond, instead redirecting his gaze from one man to another as if trying to look into their minds.

  “I beg your pardon for asking,” Dovell said, adopting Bali's formal and polite speech. “But have we done something wrong that brings you here?”

  “No,” the voice echoed in reply.

  Hearing that was at least one worry off Dovell's mind, and emboldened him to ask his next question. “Then why are you here?—If you don't mind me asking.”

  “The ones that came second caused disruption,” the voice said. The humming underneath had become more intense, like the Demon was speaking with anger. “I do not care for disruption.”

  Dovell became acutely aware of the cold sweat running down his neck, yet he managed to keep his voice calm. “If you can tell us anything about them, we would be very grateful. The safety of our city depends on it.”

  It was a gamble to ask this, as the Demon probably cared nothing about the problems of a city that wasn't in the Wastes, but at this point Dovell felt he had little to lose. If the dark assailants had also come here, there would be no evidence for Dovell to find. The only chance left was that the Demon knew something and was willing to share it.

  “They died easily,” the voice said.

  For a moment, Dovell thought he saw a grin crossing over the Demon's inhuman face.

  “Could you describe them?” Dovell asked, suppressing a shudder. If the Demon was indeed amused, he might press his luck a bit further. “What kind of clothes did they wear? Were there both men and women?”

  “Go see for yourself,” the voice returned. The Demon stretched out its front leg and pointed with a single claw towards the south-east as Tobiac, who was standing between, tried to make himself as small as possible.

  “Two corpses underneath a great tree,” the voice hummed.

  With that, the conversation ended. The Demon turned around and stepped off the boulder it was sitting on. A moment later it was gone, swallowed by the darkness of the rapidly approaching night.

  The men stood in silence for a while as if trying to determine if the Demon had truly left.

  Tobiac was the first to finally speak in a hushed voice. “Sir, what just happened?”

  Dovell tapped his forehead as if to give thanks to a deity. “We got lucky. In more ways than one.”

  Later that night, during first watch, Bastian did not seem to be convinced they were safe. He was clearly on edge, staring off into the rainy night at every sound that wasn't a falling raindrop.

  “Stop doing that, Bastian,” Dovell said softly so he would not wake anyone. He and Bastian had positioned themselves next to the open doorway that led outside. There was a small fire burning between them while the rest of the lance slept in the room behind.

  “The Demon isn't here anymore, and if it is, it's beyond our capabilities to notice.”

  “I know, sir,” Bastian said, “but maybe we should set up some additional warning sigils? Just to make sure?”

  “Make sure of what?” Dovell said, now slightly annoyed. “The Demon had no trouble evading the warning sigils we placed. I don't think placing more of them will matter.”

  “I know that too, sir,” Bastian said, his face showing his nervousness in the dim light of the campfire. “I just keep thinking about it. It was so... overwhelming. If I told my brothers about this they would never believe me.”

  Dovell sighed. Bastian was the youngest member of the lance and one of three sons of a small farmer in the Aloshi province. Country bumpkins of the most typical sort. To them, something as small as a flamewisp was a wonder, and Bastian seemed to have inherited this sense of fascination for the stranger things in this world. Maybe even more than his brothers, as he was the one that had felt compelled to leave his small village and come to Rios in search of those wonders.

  “I heard stories before,” Bastian continued. “The Demon that ruled from his Tower in the far north. I had these grand images in my head about what it looked like, and then when I first saw the Tower, I actually felt disappointed for a moment.”

  Dovell listened silently. I suppose it's on his mind, so I might as well let him talk about it. Maybe that will calm him down.

  “But after I met the Demon itself, I realized something...”

  Bastian stopped speaking to look at Dovell.

  “Which is?” Dovell asked, adjusting his legs to halt an oncoming cramp.

  “True terror cannot be imagined,” Bastian said in a hushed voice.

  “That it can't,” Dovell said, nodding in agreement. “And you should consider yourself lucky that you found out in a situation like this. Not one where you were truly at risk.”

  “No, you don't understand, sir,” Bastian said. “I froze up. I wouldn't have been able to draw my sword even if you had told me to. I've never been so scared in my life. It was like I could see my own death happening over and over again.”

  Ah, so that's what has been bothering him.

  “Do you know why you froze, Bastian?” Dovell asked, placing his hand on Bastian's shoulder. “You think it was because of fear, but that was only half of it.”

  “Sir?”

  “You froze because you instinctively knew that there was no point drawing your sword. You could feel it, right? The aura of terror that surrounded the Demon that gave you the overwhelming feeling that nothing that you did would matter.”

  “You felt it too, sir?”

  “Of course I did,” Dovell said, “but those feelings are irrelevant. A guard's duty is one that must be done, no matter how pointless it seems. The next time you encounter such a thing, don't think or feel, just follow your training and your orders.”

  “Yes sir.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. Bastian seemed more relaxed now.

  “Still,” Bastian said. “I don't understand how you could look so calm, sir. Or Bali for that matter; he was almost beaming with delight. Does living on the Frontier really change a man that much?”

  “I suppose it does,” Dovell replied. “When I returned to Rios, I was certainly different from the man who had arrived at Cariburg four years earlier. That man would never have returned.”

  A memory flashed into his mind. His late wife lying on the ground with her dark-blonde hair waving in the wind, covering her hazel eyes. The last memory he had of her that wasn't a horrible one like all those that followed that moment.

  How long has it been now? Sixteen years?

  He pushed the memory away. It represented the start of a road he had followed many times before and it led to nothing but grief.

  He picked up the conversation again to get his mind off it. “Don't forget that the people here owe a lot to the Demon. Without it, the Frontier would have taken several generations more to reach the point where it is now. It's not strange for people here to treat it with reverence. Especially not for people living in Hertwolf. Did you not notice how everyone here refers to the Demon as a 'him' rather than an 'it'?”

  “Do you believe the Demon was telling the truth, sir?” Bastian asked.

  “I do,” Dovell said, rubbing his calf to alleviate some stiffness. “I can't imagine a being like that caring enough to lie to us, but we will find out for certain tomorrow. If there really are two corpses out there who were part of the dark assailants' organization, then we must find them. It's high time we got a glimpse of who is behind all this havoc.”

  The next morning, Dovell sent everyone out to look for the great tree the Demon had mentioned. It was close to midday when Harra eventually stumbled upon an ancient gnarled willow with some human remains and a dead horse lying nearby.

  “Not much left, sir,” Rooy said as he poked a stick into a torn tunic. “Just some bones and I think most of the limbs are missing as well. No way to tell who they were.”

  “They've been lying here for two weeks at least, so that was to be expected,” Dovell said. “Forget about the bodies; I'm more interested in what they had with them. Check for belongings. Not just here but everywhere nearby. Animals might have dragged things around.”

  A dozen paces away to the south, Nissek and Harra were attending to the other corpse. “Sir?” Nissek said while holding something up. “I've found a runepouch.” He opened the pouch and gave a disillusioned look. “It's empty.”

  “Are you certain these men were part of the dark assailants, sir?” Tobiac asked. “They aren't burned.”

  “I can think of no one else but them to be here,” Dovell said. “Only rangers and burcht blades go north of the Frontier, and they know better than to anger the Demon.” He tilted his head. “And regarding the immolation, I'm guessing they didn't have the spell prepared. If they weren't expecting trouble, the Demon probably caught them by surprise, which is likely considering how easily he sneaked up on us yesterday.”

  Tobiac scratched his cheek, which was covered with rough stubble. “But even if the Demon ambushed them and they scattered as a result, wouldn't they come back to make sure these corpses were disposed of?”

  “Would you come back to a place where the Demon might still be waiting for you?” Dovell asked. “And besides, how would you even find them? It took us the entire morning and we had a clue where to look. It might be different if they had tracking stones with them, but it appears all their runestones are gone as well.”

  “I'd say it's definitely a case of better safe than sorry,” Nissek added. “Especially if you can be this sorry.” He held up two parts of a filthy thigh bone that was cleanly cut in half.

  Harra had been rummaging through the saddlebag of the dead horse; he raised his arm. “A book,” he said, holding a small notebook in his hand.

  Dovell rushed over and took the notebook from Harra. This could hold the clue we're looking for.

  The paper was wet on one corner so it took some doing to open the notebook without tearing the pages. Eventually he managed to pry it open, and was greeted with two pages filled with text in a foreign language.

  Dovell frowned. This is written in Enti.

  That was unexpected, and his assumption that it was a notebook was also incorrect. The text within was inscribed, not handwritten, meaning it was a standard text of some kind.

  Nobody in my lance can read this. So that means... He glanced over at Bali, who was looking for tracks a small distance away. He can probably read this, but should I let him?

  Dovell wasn't very keen on letting outsiders in on a potentially important clue regarding the investigation, yet if he had to wait till he was back in Rios and then return here because the contents were incomprehensible, too much time would be lost. The White Candle sanctum wards were getting closer to failing with each passing day.

  “Bali,” Dovell called. “Can you read Enti?” He held out the book.

  “I can,” Bali said as he approached and accepted the book from Dovell.

  Dovell watched intently as Bali's eyes went over the lines in the book. When he noticed a hint of recognition in Bali's eyes, he spoke up.

  “What does it say?”

  “It's a religious text, I'm certain,” Bali said. “Though I cannot say which one just from these two pages.” He started to pry at the front of the book in an attempt to view the first page.

  “Religious text? You mean like a story about gods?”

  “Indeed,” Bali said, finally managing to open the book at the first page. “The Remembrance of Hilaju's Resolve,” he read out loud. “I've heard of this before; it's a text about the works of Hilaju, his banishment by the Dominus Savant, and the belief that, of course, some day he will return in a most glorious manner.” Bali shrugged as he handed the book back to Dovell. “A typical story like most of its kind. Back in the homelands a lot of people believe in these things.”

  “Any idea why this person would have it on him?” Dovell asked.

  “No idea,” Bali said, “but the only people I ever saw with books like this were always believers themselves.”

  “If you've heard of it, does that mean it's about a Duster god?”

  “Yes,” Bali nodded. “Hilaju has followers in most northern clans, including Jelabi. He was a god of the hunt, I believe.”

  A religious follower of a Duster god. Does that tell us something? Dovell slowly turned the book around in his hand. Could some kind of religious group be behind all this?

  “You think perhaps a cult is behind this, sir?” Nissek asked as if reading Dovell's mind.

  “I'm uncertain,” Dovell said, carefully putting the book away in his tunic. “It does explain several things though, if we assume that the item the expedition took from here was something that was considered sacred. They would want it back, whatever the cost.”

  “Being a cultist would also account for their fanatical zeal,” Nissek said. “Even making them willing to immolate themselves to avoid capture. Nonetheless, I never heard of a cult as well organized as the group we're looking for. Or one with so many members with fourth-tier channellers.”

  “Neither have I,” Dovell said, “and that worries me greatly. No religious group has ever held any power since the Faithbreaker War ended, and now one suddenly appears?”

  “It's hard to believe, I agree,” Nissek said, “but that's only with regards to Gerios. Who knows how much influence these groups have in the Dust Empire? Four hundred years is a long time.”

  Dovell felt at a loss. Was I wrong to suspect the magic guilds? Did I focus on them so much that I utterly failed to consider other possibilities? A common religious text pulled off a corpse hardly made for conclusive evidence, but he had none of that either with regards to the magic guilds. Even so, he did feel that these two corpses represented the full extent of clues that could be found here. Once they had scoured this place clean, there would be little reason to remain in the Wastes.

  “Keep looking for more items,” Dovell said to his men. “Check the surrounding area with scrying stones as well.”

  He turned towards Bali. “Can we return to Hertwolf today? Or do we have to wait until tomorrow?”

  Bali pondered the question for a moment, running a finger over his pale bronze cheek. “If we leave soon, we should be able to reach the old road before dark.”

  “Good,” Dovell said. “Tobiac, Nissek, go prepare the horses and gather everything we found. Meet us here while we keep scouring the place. As soon as you return, we will depart immediately.”