Warmaster 2: Winter’s Peril

Melissa McShane

Copyright © 2024 by Melissa McShane

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Etheric Tales www.etherictales.com

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Appendix: Character Sheets

About the Author

Also by Melissa McShane

Chapter One

Aderyn wasn’t sentimental, but she was still glad the day of Soline’s memorial was bright and clear and not rainy as yesterday had been. That would have felt ridiculous, as if the sky knew about the death to mourn with the humans. Aderyn hadn’t known the Bonemender well, but Soline had been helpful and kind, and it still infuriated Aderyn that her kindness had ended up getting her killed. Her murderer, the secret Diabolist Jedrek, had been carried away by the demon he’d summoned to kill Soline, but even the torments he was enduring didn’t make up for the loss.

It seemed half the city had turned out to celebrate Soline’s life. Well, a level twenty Bonemender was no doubt a pillar of the community, between her adventures, her achievements, and her magical abilities, so it made sense a lot of people knew and admired her. Aderyn was used to funerals in her home town of Far Haven. They were usually mournful events, even if the deceased had been very old or very ill and in pain. This was more like a citywide party.

Aderyn stood at her room’s window and watched the street three stories below. She could hear the noise of the crowds even through the glass—men and women singing and shouting to one another, some of them dancing in small groups. The door of the Horse and Hound Inn never stopped swinging as people entered, looking for a drink or a companion, or left in search of more of that elsewhere.

“You coming downstairs?”

Aderyn didn’t turn around. “Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked Owen. “It feels like these people just want an excuse to party, and they aren’t thinking of Soline at all.”

Owen entered her room and closed the door behind him. “Funny you should say that,” he said. “In my world, we have holidays—like, special annual occasions to commemorate things—that used to be serious and all that, but they’ve turned into days to party. So I get what you mean. But I think in this case it’s more like them being happy for who Soline was and what she did for this city.”

“It still feels strange.”

“It’s not how your town handles grief, is it?”

Aderyn shrugged. “It’s sad when a life ends. Even if they get absorbed into the system. Nobody knows what happens then, so it could be something great, or it could be awful, and either way we’re just guessing.”

“In my world, a lot of people believe there’s a part of you that lives on. Maybe it goes to heaven, or maybe it stays around and watches over loved ones, but that means death isn’t the end.” Owen leaned on the windowsill and stared down at the street as Aderyn had.

“I can’t even imagine that. What does that part of you look like? Can others see it?” Aderyn had a sudden vivid picture of shining columns of light drifting through streets, though she’d never seen Owen’s world, so her imagination placed the columns in Far Haven. That would send everyone screaming.

“Nobody agrees on that. I don’t know if I believe it, myself, that there’s an afterlife people go to. I don’t believe in ghosts—those are supposedly what happens when the spirits of dead people hang around and scare the living. I guess that means your world doesn’t have ghosts, or vampires, or zombies.”

“I don’t even know what those words mean.”

“It’s just as well. I always thought people made up stories about the undead because the idea of death not being the end is scary as well as comforting.” Owen straightened. “Come downstairs. It’s dinnertime. And we’re all going to talk about things that aren’t death and sadness.”

Aderyn nodded. “I do understand one thing,” she said, following Owen out of the room. “I want to remember Soline for how she helped us and not for how her life ended.”

“That’s something we can all manage,” Owen replied.

The stairs were too narrow for them to walk side by side, so Aderyn let Owen lead the way. She pretended to herself it wasn’t so she could watch him unobserved. In the week since they’d discovered Owen couldn’t return to his world, she’d watched him in secret often. At first, she’d been concerned that he wasn’t doing as well as he claimed, worrying that he might become depressed or angry over his situation. Learning you were dead in your own world couldn’t be easy, even if you were alive in this one.

Then her watching had become more personal. She’d find herself staring at his hands, or his shoulders, or the sharp line of his collarbone where it peeked out from the neck of his shirt. He really was handsome, and she liked looking at him, but she’d started to feel there was more to it than that. She remembered holding his hand before, always for practical reasons. Suppose he took her hand just to feel that connection? The idea excited her.

So, she was attracted to Owen. To her partner. She’d never had a sweetheart before. She hadn’t been interested in any of the young men in Far Haven, and if she had been, she’d cared more about adventuring than romance. Making a connection with someone she’d leave behind was pointless. But someone she was traveling with, someone on her team—her parents had met as teammates, years ago, and they’d married while they were still adventuring. It wasn’t impossible.

The problem was that Owen wasn’t interested.

That might not be true. Aderyn didn’t have experience with romance, and maybe he just didn’t show his feelings. But all the stories she’d read, and her parents’ tales of their courtship, said men were forthright and open about the women they cared about. Aderyn’s favorite romantic story was the tale of Jesseta and Corin. She loved how Corin had persisted in his courtship of Jesseta when she believed she would never love again after the death of her husband. She had Corin’s declaration of love to Jesseta memorized. It was a wonderful speech about love and desire. Owen never gave the slightest hint that he was on the verge of something like that.

So, she contented herself with watching. Maybe Owen was just slow to decide how he felt. Maybe he was working up the courage to speak. She stared at his shoulders, how they were muscled in the strong, elegant way of a Swordsworn, and shivered at the thought of running her hands across them. Then she mentally slapped herself. Daydreaming was fine while they were safely in a city, but she’d better control herself once they were back in the Forsaken Lands, where distraction could get her or someone she cared about killed.

Weston, Livia, and Isold were waiting at a table in the taproom. Aderyn was impressed that they’d managed to grab one, because the Horse and Hound was overflowing with merrymakers. It was standing room only now. Owen muscled his way through the crowd and sat, with Aderyn taking the chair beside his. “Is food coming?” Owen asked. “Because I’m not sure any of the servers would notice us unless someone danced on the table with their hair on fire.”

“It’s coming,” Weston said. “Though if Livia was a Flamecrafter instead of an Earthbreaker, we could manage the hair on fire thing.”

“I can set your hair on fire, lummox,” Livia said without rancor.

“Are you going to trade insults all night, or can we hear what Isold learned?” Owen said.

“You’re so boring,” Weston said with a grin. “All right, let’s hear it. I know you went to the Postern Academy today, Isold. Did they have the answer you were after?”

“Yes, and no,” Isold said. He leaned forward, his lanky frame making him look skinny next to the enormous Moonlighter. “They didn’t know anything about the Fated One, but they had a suggestion for where we could look. It’s extreme, but I think it’s worth pursuing.”

“Extreme, how?” Aderyn asked.

Isold glanced up as a serving maid bearing an enormous platter began setting plates in front of each of the companions. Aderyn inhaled the delicious aroma of hot beef, caramelized onions, fresh bread, and spicy potatoes. “Steak,” she said. “How do we rate getting steak?”

“There was a slaughter in honor of Soline,” Weston said. “I guess a few of the local herdsmen owed her for healing their cows of a terrible disease, and this was their donation to the celebration.”

“I was afraid it was in honor of us defeating the man who killed her,” Owen said. “I don’t feel deserving of any recognition for that, since it wasn’t really us.”

“No, our names have been kept out of public awareness.” Isold cut into his steak, releasing more of the tantalizing smell. “At any rate, the next step is extreme only in terms of distance. They told me about a place containing records going back centuries, possibly to before the time of the level cap. It’s far north, more than two weeks’ journey, so we could be wasting a lot of time if it doesn’t have anything useful.”

“Does it have anything useful?” Aderyn asked. “I mean, we’re trying to find out what actions the Fated One is destined to do to break the level cap. Is that something they’d know?”

“We have a number of avenues we could pursue,” Isold said. “We could investigate the legends of the Fated One to see if any of them have specific knowledge about that person’s destiny. We could look into what caused the level cap in the first place. We could also try to find out what makes someone a candidate for Fated One—many people simply decide the prophecies apply to them, but we’ve seen that Owen didn’t know about the legends and the system chose him anyway. My feeling is that this place, this Repository, has records old enough that there should be something relating to each of these avenues. I’d like to see if it helps us narrow our search at all.”

“You’re right, that’s a long way to go for a possibility,” Owen said. “On the other hand, it’s not like we have anywhere else to be, right? No big quests waiting aside from the [Fated One’s Destiny]?”

As if in response to his words, a system message appeared.

A new quest is available: [Attain Lost Knowledge]

Accept? Y / N

“We should temporarily set this as our primary quest, as we can’t proceed with the other until we’ve learned more,” Isold said.

Aderyn selected Y and then set the quest as her primary quest while all around her her companions did the same. “Far north,” she said. “How far north? Will it be winter there?”

“In the foothills of the Pinnalore Mountains,” Isold said, “and it won’t be winter, but it will be much colder than it is here.”

“Another shopping quest, then?” Livia said. She looked pleased at the thought.

“Not yet,” Isold said. “There’s a city halfway between Guerdon Deep and Elkenforest, where the Repository is. We’ll want to buy cold-weather gear in that city, Ashenfell. That way, we don’t add to our load before we need it.”

“I assume we’re joining a caravan,” Weston said.

“Why is that?” Owen asked. “Safety in numbers?”

“More or less,” Weston replied. “That far north is too dangerous for us at level seven. We’ll need protection—though there will still be monsters we can kill, so we’ll gain experience as we go. In fact, adventurers are expected to help protect the caravan even as they get protection from it.”

“Some caravans run from cities in the Forsaken Lands to the safe zone, bringing level one adventurers from those cities to where it’s safe for them to begin adventuring,” Livia explained. “Others go between the big cities, helping the non-classed people who need to venture past their own towns. It’s a popular strategy for mid-level adventuring, signing on with a caravan. Less treasure, usually, but you fight all sorts of monsters you wouldn’t otherwise see.”

“I’m feeling the urge to head out again, after this relaxing week,” Owen said. “Like I’ve recharged my batteries—don’t ask, it’s electricity,” he said as Aderyn opened her mouth. Aderyn knew Owen’s world captured lightning and used it to power their technology, but she couldn’t picture people storing electricity in themselves. Sometimes Owen’s answers just confused her more.

“Me too,” Weston said, stretching. “I haven’t had any real opportunities for exercise this week. Time to get out on the road again.”

“We’re not leaving until I’ve bought more coffee. A lot more coffee. And don’t tell me I’m wrecking my digestive system, lummox. Coffee’s healthier than that cold bath thing you insist on, first thing in the morning,” Livia said.

“I haven’t given up on making you see the light.”

“If the light is the first light of dawn, you’re going to wait a long time.”

“Where do we find a caravan?” Owen asked, ignoring the friendly squabble.

“I inquired this afternoon. There’s a caravan leaving for Elkenforest by way of Ashenfell day after tomorrow,” Isold said. “That gives us plenty of time to resupply tomorrow.”

“We’re low on money,” Owen said. “We got those magical items as our reward for defeating Jedrek, but no cash—not that I’m complaining. Obviously I don’t think the city owes us anything. It’s still a problem.”

“Yes, and you’re going to want a better sword in a level or two,” Weston said.

“I don’t want to hang around in Guerdon Deep doing quests for cash. Maybe that makes me too impatient, but I want to follow this lead immediately.” Owen still looked sour. “We’ll just have to look for money-making opportunities as we go.”

“At least it won’t cost us anything to join the caravan, since we’re signing on as protectors,” Aderyn said. “And I could contribute to paying for a new sword, Owen, because I could sell my sword and take the <Sword of Striking>.”

“Hand-me-down weaponry, eh?” Owen grinned. “Let’s at least see how expensive a better sword is and make a decision tomorrow. Anyone else have things they need to do? Aside from Livia buying an entire Colombian forest of coffee beans?”

“You delight in mentioning places we’ve never heard of, don’t you?” Aderyn said, elbowing him in the ribs.

Chapter Two

Aderyn and Owen left the Horse and Hound after breakfast the next morning, when the air was still damp with dew. Guerdon Deep was cooler than Aderyn’s home in the southern lowlands, and while it was still warm with summer’s heat, that heat wasn’t so punishing. Mornings were actually cool and comfortable.

“I thought we could try that weapons shop over by Soline’s—I mean Cavan’s home,” Owen said. “We passed it a few times, and I kept meaning to go in and look, but there was never time.”

“There’s also a blacksmith Isold mentioned who does custom work,” Aderyn said. “Though maybe that’s too expensive.”

“I can’t afford to spend all my money on a sword, and even if we get a good price for yours, we have a limit.” Owen glanced at Aderyn’s sword, swinging at her hip, and added, “I’m not sure I should let you spend that money on me. It was your father’s sword before it was mine, and now it’s yours.”

“First, I’ll be taking your current sword, so you can balance what I give you against how expensive a <Sword of Striking> is,” Aderyn said, adopting a lecturing tone. “Second, we’re partners, and the sword you buy benefits me as well. And third, you don’t let me do anything I choose to do. So no more nonsense.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Owen said with a laugh. “I guess your world is different from mine in that respect.”

“Really? What do you mean?” She loved hearing about his world, especially how it differed from hers.

“Well,” Owen said with a shrug, “in my world, the tradition is that men shouldn’t let women buy them things. It’s supposed to go the other way around.”

“That’s so strange. Why is that?”

“I will put on my history teacher hat for this answer.” Owen lifted an imaginary hat in both hands and very deliberately lowered it onto his head. He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat, all so dramatically Aderyn laughed. “For a long time, women—this is in my part of the world, understand, and it’s different elsewhere—anyway, women didn’t have many of the same rights men did. They couldn’t earn their own money, for example. Men were the ones expected to provide for a family.”

“Owen, that’s insane. How could that even work?”

“By making men have to prove they could support a wife and a family. So a man who was interested in marrying a woman would buy things for her to show what a good provider he would be. And even though women can now earn their own money and do all the things men can, that tradition has persisted.” He pretended to take off his invisible hat and brushed his shoulders free of invisible lint.

His casual explanation struck Aderyn speechless. They walked in silence for a few steps before she managed to say, “Your world is stranger than I realized. Wouldn’t the women want to support themselves? I mean, how… how precarious a situation is that? What if a woman married someone who was actually lazy, or a liar, or even just suffered an accident so he couldn’t work?”

“You ask all the questions women in my world did, more than a century ago. And it was definitely wrong. But cultures do all sorts of wrong things, and usually they have reasons for them—they’re not always good reasons, obviously.”

“Well, I’m glad you came here instead of me going there. My world is clearly superior, even if we don’t have toilets.”

Owen laughed again. “I won’t argue the point, but I think both our worlds have ways in which they are better than the other. And… I’m glad I came here, too.”

Aderyn didn’t respond. This was the first he’d said anything like this. He’d told her he wasn’t unhappy at having to stay in her world, but never that he was actively glad about it. She was afraid of him changing his mind if she drew attention to his words. So instead she said, “Who knows what would have happened to me if you hadn’t? Oh, look, there’s the weapons shop.”

“You do the bargaining. I’m still not sure about the comparative prices of things,” Owen said.

“I’m not as good as Weston, but I think I can keep us from being cheated,” Aderyn said, and pushed open the shop door.

Inside, the shop was low-ceilinged, dimly lit, and much warmer than outdoors. It would be stifling by midafternoon. Aderyn paused to let her eyes adjust, and gradually became aware of weapons racks on the walls, cabinets with glass tops, and stands in two of the corners for polearms and staffs. There was so much to look at she almost didn’t see the woman leaning against the wall behind the cabinets. When she noticed her, she jerked involuntarily. The woman was severely scarred across her face and neck with the marks of old burns. Her left eye was missing, the eyelid sunken, and her left arm had been amputated above the elbow, with more burn scars marking the visible flesh.

She hoped her reaction hadn’t been noticeable, but the woman said in a raspy voice like stone over sandpaper, “Stunned by my good looks, are you?”

Aderyn thought about lying, saying that she hadn’t noticed the woman and was startled when she did, but instead she said, “I apologize. That was rude.”

The woman shrugged. “It’s no worse than most people’s reactions and much better than a lot of them. I’m Maelie. You in the market for a weapon? Not sure you can afford my wares if you’re only level seven.”

“We were hoping to include a trade,” Aderyn said. “Is it all right if we at least look before we talk price?”

“Sure. What are you in search of?” Maelie eyed Owen, and Aderyn felt an unexpected burst of jealousy at how appreciative that gaze was.

“I’m looking to upgrade my sword,” Owen said.

“Let me see it.”

Owen drew the blade and laid it on Maelie’s outstretched palms. The woman tested the balance, sighted along the blade, and hefted it once or twice. “It’s in good shape,” she said. “This the one you want to trade?”

“Depends on how much we can get for it,” Aderyn said impulsively. She’d had a chance to look more closely at the swords in the weapons racks, and she thought Maelie was right that they were out of her price range. But as the one who provided support and distractions for Owen, she didn’t actually need a fancy weapon, and the <Sword of Striking> was more valuable than her own non-magical sword. Fortunately, Owen said nothing about the change in plans. She loved that he trusted her that much.

Maelie nodded. “Take a look around, see what you think, and we’ll talk business.”

Owen examined the swords on the nearest rack. Aderyn joined him, hoping his weapons skill included knowledge about what made a sword good or bad. Owen had never held a sword in his life before three weeks ago, but as a Swordsworn, he had skills that made up for his lack of knowledge. He certainly looked like he knew what he was doing.

“Mind if I try this one?” Owen asked Maelie. Maelie nodded her assent.

Owen picked up a sword longer and heavier than his own and tested the weight, then tested the balance. “Stand back,” he told Aderyn, and did a few abbreviated maneuvers. He shook his head. “Now I know I want a lighter weapon.”

“Let me steer you this way,” Maelie said, coming out from behind the cabinets. “These over here are all about the same weight as a <Sword of Striking>, same length, and similar balance.”

Aderyn hung back as Owen and Maelie began trying swords and discussing each in a low voice. On a whim, she Assessed the shop owner.

Name: Maelie

Class: Swordsworn (retired)

Level: Exceeds authority limit

She’d promised herself not to be over-anxious about what new skills she might gain as a Warmaster, but she hoped, with every new level, that [Improved Assess 1] would advance. Right now, she could see extra information about Owen, but he was her partner, so that made sense. What she was able to see of his Codex made her anxious to do the same for anyone. True, she could already see others’ classes where no one else of her level could, but what an advantage if she could see high levels, or even other adventurers’ class skills!

“Aderyn, look at this,” Owen said. He showed her a sword with a blade broader and shorter than the <Sword of Striking>, but not by much. The leather binding the hilt was worn just where someone’s grip would have held it over many years, and the pommel was an abstract shape that looked like two triangles connected along one side.

“It’s a <Pummeling Blade>,” Owen said. “Forces an opponent back a step when you hit, so they’re unable to reach you easily and they’re thrown off balance. And it’s got a good balance to it.”

“It looks good. Like someone depended on it for years,” Aderyn said, pointing at the hilt.

“I’ll re-wrap it for you for nothing, if you want it,” Maelie said.

Owen and Aderyn exchanged glances. Owen nodded. Aderyn said, “How much, if we include the value of the <Sword of Striking>?”

The scar tissue along Maelie’s cheek crinkled more deeply as she frowned. “In all, I’d say… forty-five gold.”

Aderyn managed not to wince. “That’s more than we can afford,” she said. “We’re sorry we wasted your time. Thanks anyway.”

She had her hand on the door latch when Maelie said, “Wait. I have to know. Why is a Swordsworn in company with a Warmaster, and why does the Warmaster control the purse strings?”

She’d sounded so disbelieving, so dismissive, Aderyn’s hackles rose. But Owen spoke first. “If you’re that insulting of your customers, I don’t care how good your wares are, I don’t expect you to stay in business long. And Aderyn is my partner. So screw you.”

Aderyn didn’t understand that saying, but by the snarl in his voice, it was a cutting insult in Owen’s world. She hoped the meaning got through to Maelie.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Maelie said, and to Aderyn’s surprise she sounded genuinely penitent. “I’ve never met a Warmaster higher than level five, and I was wondering what you know that I don’t. One Swordsworn to another.”

“Warmasters have to work with a partner to make both more effective,” Owen said, still sounding hostile. “She supports me, I support her. We have paired skills that provide boosts to each other.”

“I apologize,” Maelie said. “Look, if I can be honest—”

“More insults?” Owen said.

“No. Free advice. You’re headed into the Forsaken Lands, I’m sure. That <Sword of Striking> will stop giving you advantages in a level or two. You need a better weapon or, partnership or not, you’re going to get killed.”

“Thanks, but that doesn’t change the limits of our purse,” Aderyn said.

“I know. But…” Maelie looked conflicted for a few seconds. “I may have a solution for you. Wait a moment.” She disappeared through a door at the far side of the room.

Chapter Three

Aderyn put a hand on Owen’s forearm and was dismayed to feel how tense the muscles were. “Don’t be so upset.”

“I won’t put up with anyone insulting you,” Owen said. “Let alone someone who got hit a few too many times with the ugly stick.”

“I don’t know what that means, but she can’t help how she looks. We could go.”

Owen scowled. “Where did you say that smithy was? And maybe Cavan knows places we could try.”

Aderyn turned to go, and Maelie emerged, bearing a long, wrapped bundle. “No, really, take a look at this,” Maelie said.

She laid the bundle on the counter and unfolded the cloth wrappings. Aderyn, drawn despite herself, moved closer. The sword was long, with a slim blade, and despite its extended hilt it wasn’t so long as to require two hands to wield. The guard curved slightly up on both sides, and the pommel was an elongated knob with six faceted sides. Dark red leather wrapped the hilt so closely Aderyn could barely see the lines of the strap.

“It’s pretty,” Owen said dismissively. “What about it?”

“It would be worth something even if it wasn’t magical, true.” Maelie wasn’t put off by his tone. “Its magic makes it hit more accurately and increases its damage. Normally I could sell this for seventy-five gold.”

“Then I’m still not sure why you’re showing it to us,” Aderyn said.

“Because at the moment, I can’t sell it for anything,” Maelie said. “In fact, I’ve sold it twice in the last two months. Both times it was returned. Both times, the purchaser claimed she heard voices speaking in her ear when she wielded it, voices she couldn’t understand. I thought it was cursed—no, don’t look like that, I’m not trying to pass off a cursed weapon on you!”

“We’re going,” Owen said.

“Just listen, all right?” Maelie said. Now she sounded desperate. “I took it to a Herald for identification, and he called it a <Twinsword>. He didn’t know much about it except that they’re supposed to come in pairs, for allies to wield, and that when two teammates each have one of these, both swords’ extra abilities are unlocked. One <Twinsword> by itself is useless except as a pretty and overpriced magical weapon.”

Owen paused at the door. “So what you’re telling me,” he said, “is that you have a weapon you’re never going to be able to unload.”

“It was what you said about partners that gave me the idea,” Maelie said. “If she’s your partner, maybe one <Twinsword> is enough. Try the sword. See what you think.”

“I don’t understand,” Aderyn said. “Why should any of that matter? I only have this sword, and it’s not magical.”

“He said you were partners, right? As in, literally providing skill boosts to each other? My theory is that whatever link you have acts the way <Twinswords> do, and maybe that means you, Warmaster, are enough to fill in the gap where the second <Twinsword> should be.”

“That’s a big stretch,” Owen said.

“Then I’m wrong, and you’re out nothing,” Maelie said.

Owen lifted the sword. Aderyn saw how his expression changed when he did; he was good at concealing his emotions, but she was his partner, and she knew when he was pleasantly surprised. So that was something—he liked the sword for its fundamentals, regardless of its magic. Too bad that wasn’t good enough.

“Come through here and try it out,” Maelie said. She opened the door behind the counters and gestured.

Owen and Aderyn followed her into a much larger room, with a higher ceiling and skylights in the roof so it was also more brightly lit than the shop. Practice dummies stood here and there, and more weapons stood in racks on two sides of the room. Those weapons had the look of much-used equipment.

Maelie strode to one of the racks and picked up a plain, blunt-edged sword shorter than the <Twinsword>. “Let’s trade blows. That should give you an idea of whether I’m right.”

“What level are you?” Owen asked skeptically.

Maelie grinned. “Sixteen, but don’t worry, I won’t go on the attack. It just takes an actual opponent to trigger the whispering. Practice dummies aren’t good enough.”

Owen took a fighting stance and examined Maelie, who held her sword almost casually, though Aderyn knew better than to underestimate her. Owen swung, a slow stroke of the blade that Maelie deflected easily. Owen swung again, a little harder, and again Maelie caught it. Then they were sparring in earnest, though Aderyn could tell they were both pulling their punches.

She watched Maelie instead of Owen, noticing how the woman held her blade, how she had a tendency to feint left and thrust right after a parry. Owen noticed it too, because he changed his attack and very nearly got a blow through Maelie’s guard. He’d gotten much better since level one.

After about a minute, Owen lowered the sword. “Did you see the feint and thrust?” he asked Aderyn.

“Of course. I mean—no offense, you probably weren’t trying your hardest,” Aderyn told Maelie, who grinned.

Owen turned back to Maelie. “I’m convinced. How much?”

“What?” Aderyn exclaimed.

“At first, it was just like fighting with any very well-made sword,” Owen said. “Then it was like I heard your voice, Aderyn—like you were saying ‘look there.’ And then I noticed the defensive pattern Maelie has, just as if you’d pointed it out. It was definitely your voice, too. Not my imagination, unless my imagination has suddenly become capable of speaking aloud.”

“Wait,” Aderyn said. “How is that possible?”

“I told you I thought your partnership would make a second sword unnecessary,” Maelie said. “Trade me the <Sword of Striking>, and I’ll give you the <Twinsword> for ten gold.”

“That’s a steal,” Owen said. “You can’t possibly make any money at that rate.”

“It’s either that, or I search the world for its mate, and I don’t like leaving the shop.” Maelie gestured at her face. “People stare.”

“What do you think?” Owen asked Aderyn.

It would be a stretch of their budget, but—how useful was a sword that whispered the Warmaster’s tactics to her partner? “Agreed,” Aderyn said.

She dug out the money while Owen unfastened the <Sword of Striking’s> sheath and handed the weapon over in exchange for the <Twinsword>. Maelie accepted the coins with satisfaction. “Always glad to make a good deal.”

“Thanks,” Aderyn said.

“Good luck to you both, and I’m glad to have met you.” Maelie shook her head ruefully. “Wish I’d known that about Warmasters. You’re a much better swordsman than anyone your level has a right to be, young man. If that’s what it means to have a Warmaster partner… we had a Warmaster in our team for a few weeks, about fifteen years ago. She wasn’t much of an adventurer, but if I’d known, maybe things would have been different.”

Aderyn nodded. She felt sorry for that unknown Warmaster. Then she became angry. Why were so many people ignorant about the class? She and Owen couldn’t possibly be the only ones to ever figure it out, could they? Unless Owen was right, and only someone completely ignorant of classes and adventuring, like an otherworlder, would be humble enough to partner with a Warmaster.

“That took less time than I expected,” Owen said when they were on the street again. “You want to do something else?”

“Like what? I guess we could pick up supplies, though we really are hitting the limit of what we can afford.”

“No, I mean… actually, I don’t know what I mean. Shopping. Yes. Isold said the caravan provides our food, so we don’t need that. Shouldn’t we save some money for cold-weather gear in Ashenfell?”

Aderyn had forgotten about that. “True. Then I guess we go back to the inn and wait.”

“The dramatic and exciting life of the adventurer,” Owen said grandly. “Waiting at the inn.”

“Don’t make fun. My parents always said adventuring is seventy percent traveling, twenty-five percent waiting on things, and five percent pants-wetting terror.”

“I only have one pair of pants, so I like those percentages,” Owen said.

THE NEXT MORNING, the companions rose early, though it took a full pot of coffee to get Livia’s eyes open. Aderyn was glad to leave the Horse and Hound behind. She never liked how the owner, Clerra, flirted with Owen as relentlessly as if gaining his affection was a high-level quest. Owen never paid her any attention, which made Aderyn feel slightly better, but she’d be happiest once they left Guerdon Deep behind.

They walked through the city as it gradually wakened, with its many small early-morning markets bustling even at just past dawn, until they reached the eastern gate where they were to join the caravan. Aderyn expected to see wagons and horses gathered in the streets near the gate, the way caravans that came to Far Haven did. Instead, the enormous gates stood open, and two guards waited with polearms, inspecting everyone who entered and collecting the five gold entrance fee. No wagons were visible, and the only horses were the few ridden by adventurers entering the city.

By the time they came even with the guards, though, the caravan was visible where it waited just outside and to the north of the road leading from Guerdon Deep to distant Branlight: seven long covered wagons painted in vibrant colors and drawn by oxen, not horses, and men and women milling around and climbing in and out of wagons. Children ran shouting in circles near the caravan, staying clear of the horses. Some of the adults looked like high-level adventurers, or at least higher level than Aderyn and her companions. Those four stood by themselves to one side, talking quietly and paying no attention to anyone else.

The gate guards ignored the companions. They were clearly only interested in taking money from newcomers to the city. Leaving cost nothing. Aderyn let Isold lead the way, since he had arranged for their passage with the caravan and knew the owner. Isold strode immediately to the wagon painted blue and green with white streaks in a random arrangement across the colors and the elderly woman standing there. “Mistress Beyla. Thank you again for signing us on.”

The woman, Beyla, set aside the rope she was coiling and put her hands on her hips, examining them all. “Level seven, you said? You all look like you can pull your weight. Especially you.” She pointed a bony finger at Weston, who managed not to look surprised or embarrassed. “Might could harness you to a wagon if an ox founders, eh?” She laughed heartily.

“Could you explain what’s expected of us, Mistress Beyla?” Owen asked.

Beyla sobered. “It’s just Beyla, here. This caravan has been making the circuit, Guerdon Deep to Ashenfell to Elkenforest to Finion’s Gate, then to Branlight and back to Guerdon Deep, for nearly ten years, and we’re like family. So, you’re our guests, see—though guests who work for their keep. You’ll walk a guard pattern, you and the other team, and take turns at point. We expect you to fight for our safety, though truth told this isn’t a very dangerous journey, not with as many of us as there are. Still, we don’t take chances.”

“Who’s the other team?” Aderyn asked.

“You’ll have to introduce yourselves. They’re all about level twelve, so the heavy fighting will fall on them. No squabbling over experience. There’s enough of that to go around.” Beyla nodded. “My husband, Artan, he’s the one you’ll report anything strange to. He’s a quiet fellow, but don’t let that fool you into thinking he’s soft just because he doesn’t yell and carry on in a crisis. You’ll take turns at night watch. When you’re not watching, you’re free to spread your bedrolls wherever you like, though with the heavy dews of morning it’s a good idea to spread them beneath a wagon. But it’s your choice. Any other questions?”

Aderyn couldn’t think of anything. Owen said, “I’m sure they’ll come up as we go, if you don’t mind us asking them later.”

“Not at all. We want you asking questions instead of making assumptions.” Beyla picked up the rope coil again. “We leave in an hour. Walk around, get familiar. Maybe meet those other adventurers.”

With that clear dismissal, she went back to handling the rope. Aderyn retreated with the others. When they were out of earshot of the caravan leader, she said, “She’s very straightforward. I think this will be a good trip.”

“Let’s save judgment for after we meet these other adventurers,” Owen said. “They’re the ones we have to work with. Is that right? Or are they going to demand we bow and scrape to them because we’re lower level?”

“Let’s find out,” Isold suggested.

Chapter Four

They approached the small group of adventurers without pretending a lack of interest. The other team, however, pretended not to notice them, though Aderyn caught the tallest of them, as lanky and lean as Isold but half a foot taller, glancing swiftly in their direction and then away again. Their behavior worried her. It suggested that Owen’s guess was right, and this team thought themselves superior because of their level. She reminded herself to save judgment for later.

She Assessed the adventurers when she was within sixty yards of them, which heartened her because it meant her Assess range was growing.

Name: Talandra

Class: Staffsworn

Level: 12

NAME: Dashan

Class: Swifthands

Level: 11

NAME: Garet

Class: Lightfingers

Level: 12

NAME: Cadia

Class: Flamecrafter

Level: 12

Aderyn focused on the last of these. Cadia the Flamecrafter didn’t dress in flowing robes or even bright shades of red, and she didn’t have red hair, all things Aderyn associated with Flamecrafters. Instead, she wore ordinary leather trousers and a leather jerkin similar to Aderyn’s own, and her short blond hair looked as bright as Owen’s in the early morning sun.

Owen strode directly to Cadia and extended a hand. “Beyla said there was another team with the caravan,” he said. “I hope we can work well together. I’m Owen.”

“What an unusual name,” Cadia said. Her voice was warm and throaty and commanding, the voice of a leader. Aderyn was impressed that Owen had seen that. “Cadia. You’re all level seven, are you?” She phrased it as a question, but she’d have Assessed their group as Aderyn had Assessed hers. It was a question whose answer she knew.

Aderyn introduced herself as her friends did the same; it was courtesy for the lower-level adventurer to speak first, and tradition to give your name even though the other person already knew it. The other woman, Talandra, had very dark skin by comparison to her companions and gripped her staff lightly in a way that suggested it could go from inert length of wood to active threat in less than a second. Her eyes moved constantly, her gaze never resting anywhere for very long.

The lanky, lean Garet, by contrast, smiled pleasantly at all of them now that he wasn’t pretending not to notice them. His hair was red, a dark red-brown that made Aderyn think of a fox. Probably his class influenced that notion. Aderyn remembered her parents’ former companion Rathven, who was also a Lightfingers. She liked him, but her parents always said never to trust him, because all Lightfingers saw the world as a challenge to their skills. Rathven himself had repeated this advice. Maybe this Garet was honorable, but Aderyn wasn’t going to let down her guard no matter how charming his smile.

The fourth member of their team, Dashan, was only a hand’s breadth taller than Livia and held himself with a Swifthands’ grace. He looked bored, his eyes closed nearly to slits, but then he yawned, and Aderyn realized he was like Livia in more than one respect. Well, it was still early.

“Where are you from?” Cadia asked.

“From the sanctuary cities,” Owen said. “We arrived in Guerdon Deep from there just over a week ago.”

Cadia’s eyes widened, and Aderyn stiffened, because that gesture looked fake. “And you’re already level seven? That’s impressive.” She didn’t exactly sound patronizing, but Aderyn knew if she could Assess the woman’s thoughts, she’d see disdain for the younglings.

“We had some unexpected fights and a number of quests,” Owen said. He didn’t say that many of those had been secret quests, uncovered by them because of the system’s interest in Owen as a potential Fated One.

“Including a bevy of five cat-hawks,” Weston said, clearly not interested in downplaying their prowess.

“That can’t be true,” Dashan said. His voice was flat, almost a monotone, and it raised Aderyn’s hackles further.

“We wouldn’t lie about an encounter of that magnitude,” Owen said. “Two of us nearly died. It was luck and skill that we’re all still here.”

“Of course,” Cadia said. She no longer sounded patronizing; in fact, there was respect in her tone. “That really is impressive. You’ll have to tell us how it went, some night when we’re all swapping stories by the fireside.”

Talandra shifted her weight. Cadia glanced her way and said, “We’re the only two teams hired for this trip—are you going all the way to Elkenforest?”

“We are,” Owen said.

“Then we’ll need to discuss the watch shifts. We ought to double up, one of us with one of you, to take advantage of how our everyman [Spot] and [Awareness] skills are higher—no offense meant, it’s just a fact of the level difference.”

“I understand you. That leaves one of ours alone.”

“Oh, I was thinking your group could get one night in five off. Rotation, you know. You won’t need it, not if you were tough enough to make the journey here, but it’s better than one of ours taking an extra shift every night. Agreed?”

“Sure.” Owen shrugged. “It makes sense. Four watches a night. Have you made this trip before?”

Cadia shook her head. “We came here from Branlight, off to the east.”

“Then I guess we’re all newbies—I mean, inexperienced when it comes to what to expect. What kind of monsters, I mean.” Owen didn’t act embarrassed over having used a word from his own world. They’d found in the week spent in Guerdon Deep that brazening out his occasional mistakes kept people from commenting on them.

“I looked into it,” Talandra said. Her voice was as high-pitched as Cadia’s was low. “The plains extend for three days north, after which it’s forest all the way to Ashenfell and beyond. The plains are home to burrowers—have you met those?”

“Like giant moles, but with horns on their snouts and oversized claws for digging,” Isold said. “They swim through earth as readily as dolphins swim through water. I’m afraid we’ve never met them, so I don’t know how big they are.”

“Herald. Of course,” Talandra said, and now she sounded grudgingly respectful. “They range in size from small dog to as big as those oxen over there. Their strategy is to tunnel beneath their prey and drop them into a sinkhole.”

“That’s a trick I can turn back on them,” Livia said.

Talandra nodded. “Once we’re in the forest, there’s no knowing what we might face. Animals corrupted by the Forsaken Lands, bears and wolves and the like. Then the truly monstrous, spriggans and fade dogs and hobgoblins. Fungus creatures and slime molds, but those only hunt where the forest has been taken over by fungi, so it’s easy to stay out of those areas.”

“Or go into them deliberately, for the experience,” Dashan said, still in that monotone that made him sound like he was still half-asleep.

“We’ll only fight what attacks the caravan, though,” Owen said.

Talandra eyed him as if questioning his valor. “We’re not contracted to go haring off after monsters, no.”

“That’s what I thought. Plenty of experience for everyone, right?” Owen smiled. Talandra didn’t.

“Plenty of experience where we’re going,” Cadia said.

“And where’s that?” Weston asked.

“You ever hear of Winter’s Peril? How about you, Herald?” Cadia asked.

Aderyn hadn’t. Neither, it seemed, had any of her friends.

“It’s a dungeon outside Elkenforest, in the Pinnalore Mountains. An ice castle.” Cadia’s lips curled in a smug smile. “The treasure is a thousand gold, along with whatever items the final boss has. We’ve been planning this quest for months, preparing so we’ll be at the right level for it to be a true challenge without overwhelming us.”

“That’s intriguing,” Isold said. “I imagine an ice castle would be child’s play for a Flamecrafter.”

“That’s the strategy.” Cadia’s smile deepened. “What about you? Anything special take you north?”

“Research,” Owen said before anyone else could respond. “We’re in search of several quest possibilities so we can optimize our leveling. You know, find a quest of power level seven that’s near a quest of power level nine, that sort of thing.”

“Clever,” Garet said, startling Aderyn with his sudden entry into the conversation. “Planning it out instead of taking what comes—very clever.” His voice was smooth, almost snide, and Aderyn disliked him instantly. That was probably unworthy, and she was willing to be proven wrong about his character, but he was a Lightfingers, he talked like he was secretly laughing at them, and she didn’t think she was obligated to be fair just because they were traveling companions for the next two weeks.

“We think so.” Owen had that distant sound to his voice that told Aderyn he didn’t like Garet either.

“Now that we’re all friendly, maybe you’d like to walk the perimeter, get a sense of the wagons?” Cadia suggested. “We’ve already done it, but you’ll want your own assessment, naturally.”

She sounded genuinely helpful, but Aderyn couldn’t help remembering the woman’s initial dismissive attitude and bristling at her “help.” Then she felt stupid. Just because they were five levels higher didn’t mean they looked down on her team. There was no reason for their teams to be at odds, since that level difference meant they couldn’t exactly compete for experience-gaining opportunities; anything that boosted her team would barely register with the others, and her team likely couldn’t defeat a monster that would give the other team a challenge. Aderyn resolved to be open-minded. Except about Garet.

“Good idea,” Owen said. “We’ll see you around.”

The companions walked away, following Owen, who strolled as if this wasn’t the beginning of another exciting adventure. When they had put three wagons between them and the other team, he said, “Thoughts?”

“They don’t think much of our abilities, cat-hawks or no,” Weston said, “but I didn’t get the sense that it was any more than was reasonable for them being five levels higher. Though I wouldn’t trust that Lightfingers. He was checking us out for possible valuables he might steal.”

“You don’t think he’d steal from someone in the caravan?” Livia said.

“I think he’d do it if he could get away with it. In fact, I’d bet on him pretending it was all a joke if he got caught.” Weston sounded more grim than his usual carefree self. “We need to watch ourselves. Don’t leave anything small unattended. Like that <Ruckus Box>, Aderyn.”

Aderyn nodded. The small tin box that produced a variety of sounds nestled in the bottom of her knapsack, her reward for defeating Jedrek. She hadn’t used it yet, and the idea of Garet stealing it made her angry.

“Cadia strikes me as proud of her abilities, not just her Flamecrafter skills, but her leadership prowess,” Isold said. “Whether she’s too proud, I have no idea. But pride can be dangerous when you’re in the Forsaken Lands. She might lead us all into combats beyond our abilities.”

“I agree with that,” Owen said. “Aderyn, you’ve been quiet. What do you think?”

Aderyn considered what she’d observed. “Their fighters are interested in gaining experience on the road, whatever Cadia says. Between Cadia’s pride and their eagerness, we might end up fighting unnecessary battles. What worries me is that we could be stuck not gaining any experience and still taking all the risks.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Owen said.

“It’s how the system awards experience for a fight,” Aderyn said. “If two people are fighting the same monster—two people not part of one team—the system doesn’t split experience between them. Whoever deals the final blow gets the experience.”

“That—holy crap, that’s so open to abuse,” Owen exclaimed.

“It’s why adventuring parties don’t usually team up. Too much chance for kill-stealing, even by accident. But it’s worse when the teams have a big gap in levels. Let’s say we’re fighting a fade dog—”

“What’s that?”

“A dog—not really a dog, they’re cats that look like dogs who fade in and out of sight—it’s not important. Say we’re fighting a fade dog. Those are power level seven. An even fight for us who are also level seven. So it might take three or four hits to kill it.” Aderyn looked over her shoulder, but the other team wasn’t even visible, let alone close enough to hear. “But a level twelve Staffsworn could kill it in one.”

“Sure, true, but us killing it slower doesn’t mean we don’t still end up killing it.”

“Then imagine you and Talandra are fighting three fade dogs. Your first blow hurts one, and Talandra kills the second. Your next blow hurts yours more, and Talandra kills the third. Then you make a third attack and still don’t kill it—but Talandra finishes it off. See the problem?”

“I do now. Great. What can we do about that?” Owen looked pissed off, the way he did when something about this world struck him as unfair or stupid.

“Nothing, except hope they’re honorable,” Weston said. “Most adventurers know at some point they will be on one end or the other of that conundrum, and there are unwritten rules about not interfering in someone else’s fight except to save a life. But…”

“But, what?” Owen said.

“This is the Forsaken Lands. Not a lot goes on out here that anyone is in a position to notice,” Isold finished for him. “I think we should remember that gaining experience isn’t the point of this journey. The point is getting to the Repository.”

“I agree,” Livia said. “Squabbling over who gets whose kill is just going to get people hurt. I’m not saying we shouldn’t fight to defend the caravan, but we should do it for that reason, not to get experience or bragging rights.”

“Spoken like a true pragmatist,” Weston said with a grin. “And that’s a compliment.”

“It had better be,” Livia said, pretending to snarl at him.

They walked around the wagons for the rest of the hour, saying hello and meeting the rest of the caravan “family,” as Beyla had put it. Five of the wagons were a permanent part of the caravan, Beyla’s actual extended family and the drovers who managed the supply wagons. Music came from the sixth wagon, which teemed with women dressed in bright, colorful clothing. Isold walked a little faster as the sounds of violin and flute, drum and clarinet became clearer. The non-classed musicians, it turned out, were a group who’d performed all over the south and were now making the grand circle with the caravan.

“You should join us in performing some night, Isold!” their leader, a pretty woman with brown curls, said. “I’ll give you a beat to sing to,” she added, tapping one of her drums. Aderyn had no doubt at all what she actually wanted from Isold one of these nights. Given that Isold was very fond of women, and despite his self-proclaimed awkwardness with romantic talk had been extremely busy with flirtations the week they’d been in Guerdon Deep, Aderyn gave it good odds the woman would get what she was after.

The seventh wagon stood apart from the others, and although the oxen were yoked already, there was no sign of the driver. The wagon was more worn than the others, too, with its paint peeling off the sides and the canvas cover water-stained. Aderyn examined it closely, looking for the owner, but whoever it was must have been sleeping still.

Finally, a whistle signaled the caravan was ready to move out. The wagons had moved from their original positions into a crooked line, with Beyla’s wagon at the front. Cadia and her team had taken up positions near the front and rear of the wagon train. Owen turned to Aderyn. “What do you think, Warmaster?”

Aderyn glanced over the wagon train, hoping for insight from her class skills. Thanks to Cadia’s position, the answer was obvious and didn’t take any special insight. “We’ll walk in the center. It’s not a dangerous position, and this might be a boring trip. Half of us on one side, half on the other.”

“You and I on the left, then,” Owen said, “and everyone else opposite. But make sure we stay within earshot of each other, just in case.”

A second whistle—actually a pair of short shrill blasts—signaled the front wagon to begin. Movement shuddered down the caravan until the supply wagon next to Aderyn and Owen jerked into motion. It didn’t move very fast even once it got up to speed, not much more than an average walking pace. Aderyn sighed inwardly. This might be a really boring trip.

Chapter Five

They walked north through the plains, crushing the long grasses beneath feet and wheels and oxen hooves. At first, Aderyn and Owen were silent. Aderyn normally loved that about their relationship, that they were good enough friends they didn’t need to fill the empty spaces with meaningless conversation. Now she wished she could think of something to talk about. Watching the endless horizon for monsters only took a fraction of her attention. But the drover of the nearest wagon was close enough to hear them, so she couldn’t ask Owen for stories of his world or compare those stories to this world.

“This is driving me crazy,” Owen said abruptly. “This silence. Just the creaking of the wagons and the breathing of the oxen and the crunching of dead grass underfoot. Tell me a story or something.”

“Every story I ever knew just disappeared from my memory,” Aderyn said.

“Okay, then I’ll tell you a story. Once there was a brave group of, um, adventurers. They didn’t start off intending to be a team—in fact, one half of them wanted to capture the other half for a reward. But they were all captured and put in prison—” He paused, and glanced at the drover.

“Prisons are for criminals,” she said, interpreting his hesitation as wondering whether prisons were a thing this world had. “Weren’t they heroes?”

“They weren’t heroes yet. They were self-centered and out for what they could get. Anyway, they were forced to work together to break out of the prison, because they had a magic stone they—”

“A magic stone? Those are rare. Are you sure it was a stone?”

“Yes. It was even more rare than usual—it was one of six magic stones of different colors, all with great power. The heroes wanted to sell theirs for a lot of gold. But they discovered the stone was so powerful, an evil man wanted it so he could destroy the—well, everything.” Owen had the air of someone editing his story to fit the world he was in, which amused Aderyn more than the fascinating story he was telling.

“So they decided to lock the stone away rather than risk it falling into the evil man’s hands. They fought in a massive battle, supported by the people who put them in prison.”

“That seems unlikely. Why would those people not have imprisoned them again?”

“Because the heroes had proved they were not one hundred percent d—I mean, they’d showed they were actually heroes. And the battle between the forces of the evil man and the heroes went on until the evil man was about to take the magic stone. That was when the five heroes joined together to contain the stone’s magic and disintegrate the villain.”

“This is a great story,” Aderyn said. “What classes were they? Which spellslinger knew the disintegrate spell? Did they reach level twenty?”

Owen hesitated. “Um, I’m not sure what… well, okay, one of them was a—a Swifthands who was the most dangerous Swifthands who ever lived. She was made to be a weapon. One was a Stalwart who wanted revenge on the evil man for killing his wife and daughter. Then there was, um, a magical beast who was a Spellcrafter—”

“Magical beasts can’t have classes, Owen,” Aderyn warned.

“I know, but that’s part of the story—this creature who was transformed from one thing to another. That’s a thing, right?” Owen hurried on. “There was also a Staffsworn who, um, used living wood to attack. And their leader was a Deadeye who had a magical heritage he didn’t find out about until the end of the mov—the story. He wanted to be called Star-Lord, but it wasn’t until he proved he was really a hero that people did.”

“Star-Lord. That’s an amazing title. Do you know any more stories about him?”

“A few. They’re still being created. I guess now I won’t find out whether he and the Swifthands fall in love.”

Aderyn heard the bleakness in his voice that sounded on the rare occasions he missed his own world and quickly said, “Of course they do. And you can make up the endings yourself. That can be just as satisfying, because you can have the story end the way you like.”

“I guess,” Owen said. “Do you like—”

“’Ware attack!” someone shouted from the head of the line.

The words sent a spike of mingled fear and excitement through Aderyn. “You go,” she said. “I’ll watch for an attack from this side.”

Owen nodded and ran.

Aderyn scanned the fields. Nothing moved but the breezes across the grass. She heard the cries of combat, and then Livia’s voice shouting something and the whump of a large mass of earth shifting. That sounded like her create pit spell. Aderyn grinned at the thought of some monster having the ground fall out from beneath it.

Abruptly, a system message appeared.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Burrower].

You have earned [150 XP].

After a minute or two, the sounds died away. Owen didn’t return. Unable to stand the suspense, Aderyn jogged down the line of the caravan to where Beyla’s wagon waited. As she passed the worn-out wagon, she glanced at its driver, an elderly man with a thick white beard who looked back at her. He was dressed more nicely than his wagon suggested, in little-worn traveling clothes and a wide-brimmed hat he pulled low over his eyes. He examined her without interest, and she, after that one glance, kept moving without giving him a second thought.

Livia’s spell had created a big pit directly in front of the lead wagon, with the motionless body of what Aderyn took to be a burrower, what with the huge horn on its snout, lying at the bottom. Another dead burrower, this one charred and stinking, lay near enough the lead wagon’s oxen that the great stolid animals shifted uneasily. A third burrower, cut neatly in half, was partially buried in earth.

Owen saw Aderyn’s approach and said, “You didn’t see any others?”

Aderyn shook her head.

“I think we’re safe to proceed, then,” Owen told Cadia.

“I agree. I don’t suppose you can fill that pit in?” Cadia asked Livia.

“Not unless you want to wait here all night while I drop in handfuls of earth and stones,” Livia said.

“It doesn’t matter. We can maneuver around it.” Cadia waved at Beyla, who had the rigid look of someone who’d seen a few too many horrors in the last minute, and set out walking again without waiting to see if Beyla would respond.

Owen gestured to Aderyn, and the two of them picked up the charred remains of the burrower and moved it away from the ox team. The burrower was the size of a large sheep and weighed more than it looked like it should have, and Aderyn was sweating by the time they deposited it on the ground, well out of the caravan’s path.

“You killed one,” she said.

Owen looked sour. “What was that you said about kill-stealing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Livia and Weston and I did the bulk of the fighting, and Cadia and Garet took advantage of that. It was pure luck I got the final blow on that burrower. Livia took the ground out from under that one you saw in the pit, and Weston was doing all right against it until Garet swooped in and pithed it at the base of the neck. And I’d finished the one off and was going after the last one, which was trying to get to the oxen, and Cadia saw me and blasted it to keep me from getting the experience. Nearly fried one ox. Beyla was furious about it, but there’s nothing she can do against a Flamecrafter who’s sworn to protect the caravan. Cadia would just say, needs of the moment or something.” Owen tore a handful of grasses up with some force and scrubbed the <Twinsword> clean of greenish ichor.

“I forgot about the sword,” Aderyn said, pointing. “I should have gone with you. I don’t think the extra abilities work if I’m not within sight of the battle.”

“It doesn’t matter. Aderyn, I know I agreed it doesn’t matter if we get experience or not, but blatant kill-stealing is infuriating.”

“I agree. But what can we do? We’re in the same position as Beyla. Worse, because if we complain, it could look like jealousy.” Aderyn gestured. “We should catch up.”

“It’s not like they need us.” Owen grimaced. “I know, that’s untrue. Fine. I’ll be polite. But I don’t have to like it.”

The rest of the morning went without incident. They stopped for lunch, and Aderyn once again passed the old man driving the wagon. This time, she realized he was staring at her—she could feel his gaze on her long after she’d left him behind, or imagined she could. She hadn’t seen him stare at any of her companions, so she wasn’t sure why she was so interesting to him. His regard didn’t make her feel uncomfortable, not the way it would if he had a sexual interest in her; it was just unsettling, as if he knew a secret about her she didn’t know herself.

She stooped, pretending to extract a stone from her boot, and Assessed him.

Name: Marrius

Class: Spellcrafter (retired)

Level: Exceeds authority limit

A high-level Spellcrafter, traveling north? She wished she knew if that was unusual. Traveling alone, too. Sometime she’d have to find a way to confront him about the staring, but for now, he wasn’t hurting her, so she wasn’t going to worry about it.

After the lunch stop, she and Owen continued to walk. Owen kept her entertained with more stories, like the adventures of the Man in Iron Armor and his adventuring team. One was a Swordsworn who used a magic hammer instead of a sword. The magic hammer returned to his hand after he threw it, which Aderyn thought sounded incredibly useful. She also liked the stories of the female Spider who dressed all in black, even though Aderyn didn’t normally think Spiders were interesting.

There was also the Deadeye who had magic arrows that did all sorts of things Aderyn wasn’t sure real arrows did, and the Stalwart who was cursed to turn green when he got angry, and their team even had a Warmaster! Aderyn suspected Owen had made that last one up to please her, because no stories ever had Warmasters as anything but jokes. But this Warmaster was respected by his teammates, and he was excellent at tactics, and he knew how to throw his magic shield so it would ricochet back to him after knocking down enemies. He was her favorite.

The caravan stopped well before sunset, to give everyone time to set up camp. Owen went to organize their team’s campsite, and Aderyn walked from wagon to wagon, checking to see if anyone needed help. The children, who ranged in age from four to ten, were once again playing some game that required chasing each other and shouting. The drovers worked in silence, as efficiently as men who’d done this a million times before. Beyla thanked her for her offer, but suggested she see how the musicians were doing.

As Aderyn strolled toward the musicians’ wagon, she passed the old man, who again was staring at her. She was almost past his wagon when she heard him say, “Young lady. Come here a moment.”

His voice was strong and youthful, not at all what she’d expected given his apparent age, and surprise and curiosity made her turn around. “Can I help you with something, sir?”

“Possibly,” the old man said. “I’m Marrius.”

Aderyn waited for him to continue, but he just continued to gaze at her as if he expected a reaction to his name. “I’m Aderyn,” she finally said. “Do you need help starting a fire? I have a <Matchlighter>.”

“That would be welcome, yes. Help me start a fire, and then maybe I can brew you a cup of tea in thanks.”

Aderyn felt this was strange, but she still didn’t feel any menace from him. Maybe he was one of those kindly old men who cared about politeness ritual more than the youth of today did.

She helped arrange the firewood he took from the back of his wagon in a bare spot she cleared of grasses, then lit the tinder with her <Matchlighter> and fanned the fire into being as Marrius set up a neat little spit from which he hung a kettle full of water. Then they sat in awkward silence, waiting for the water to boil. Aderyn regretted her kind impulse. She wasn’t good at small talk. Isold would have been a better choice.

“You and your friends must have come a long way,” Marrius said. “I heard Beyla say you’d traveled to Guerdon Deep from the sanctuary cities. Are you from Asylum?”

“No, Far Haven.”

“Ah. Nice town. It’s been years since I was there, but I remember it fondly.” Marrius settled himself more comfortably beside the fire, whose heat felt good even after the warmth of the day.

“It’s fine, I guess. I mostly was eager to leave. To start adventuring, you know.”

“I understand.” Marrius gazed at her, his eyes narrowed. “Tell me—is your mother’s name Lyzette?”

“Yes! Do you know her?” Now the old man’s interest made more sense. Aderyn looked just like Lyzette, except her eyes were brown instead of blue.

“You could say that,” Marrius said. “We haven’t spoken in… oh, twenty-five years. You weren’t born yet.”

“Oh.” Aderyn felt awkward again. That had sounded like they had parted in anger. “I guess if you travel a lot, that makes sense.”

“It was partly the travel, and partly an argument—but you shouldn’t worry about that. Like I said, you weren’t even born.” Marrius checked the tea kettle and then went to the back of the wagon. He returned with a couple of tin mugs and a box from which arose the most delicious aroma of blackberries. Aderyn accepted one of the mugs from him, held it for him to fill with hot water, and inhaled the smell as the tea leaves steeped.

“Dalin’s still teaching sword fighting, is he?” Marrius asked.

“Yes. He taught me, but I became a Warmaster, so the skills didn’t matter.”

“They will eventually if you keep fighting. I saw your sword, so I assume you fight as part of your team.”

Aderyn nodded.

“And a Warmaster. I admit I didn’t see that coming for one of Lyzette’s children. Though I don’t believe anyone ever does predict what class a fledgling will gain.” Marrius sipped his tea thoughtfully. “And they never mentioned me.”

“No, sir.” Aderyn drank, and enjoyed how the warmth of the liquid coursed through her. “Should they have?”

Marrius regarded her steadily. “Maybe not,” he said. “Frankly, I should let it go at that. But you do look so much like your mother, and I never have liked secrets.”

Aderyn shifted uncomfortably. Her earlier belief that Marrius watched her like someone who knew her secrets now seemed unpleasantly plausible. “What secrets, sir?”

Marrius didn’t say anything for several very long seconds while Aderyn fidgeted and considered walking away. Finally, he let out a long, deep breath and said, “I’m your grandfather.”

Chapter Six

Aderyn dropped her mug. Tea splashed everywhere, on her hand, on the dry ground, on her trouser leg. It wasn’t hot enough to burn, but she felt scalded anyway. “You’re lying,” she said. “Why would you say that? What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” said Marrius. “I told you, I probably should have let it go. But we’ll be traveling together for two weeks, and it’s not good to keep secrets when you’re in the Forsaken Lands. Sometimes they come back to bite you. And I’m not lying. Lyzette is my oldest daughter. Her sister is named Cosella and her brother is Arden—your aunt and uncle. Last I saw Lyzette and Dalin, they had only two children, a son named Nollan and a daughter named Pia.”

Aderyn realized she was breathing as heavily as if she were being pursued by the worst monster imaginable. “Somebody told you all that.”

“Who could possibly have done that? Do even your teammates know all those names? I’m betting not.” Marrius set his mug aside and rolled his shoulders as if they ached. “Aderyn, I don’t want anything from you. I don’t intend to impose on you just because we’re related. And I won’t say anything more to you unless you come to me first. But I’ve been away from family a very long time, and if you’re willing, I’d love to hear about your life. If you choose.”

Aderyn scrambled to her feet, righting the mug automatically as she rose. Then she turned and ran.

She had enough sense left not to run away from the caravan, into the growing dark, but she followed the line of wagons without knowing anything more than that she had to get away from the old man. She barely was aware of voices shouting after her, but then someone grabbed her arm and made her stop, and she turned on the person angrily and realized it was Owen.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he demanded.

Aderyn shook her head. Too many words tangled in her head for her to know where to start. Finally, she said, “I need to sit. Where did we make camp?”

Owen steered her back toward a spot between the wagons where a fire burned. She was grateful for his steadying hand on her elbow. He guided her to sit, and Livia pressed a mug of, not tea, but ale into her hand. Aderyn drank and felt calmer.

“That man. That Spellcrafter,” she said. “He—” The idea was so ludicrous she laughed. “He claims he’s my grandfather.”

Exclamations rose up from her friends. “He must be lying,” Weston said. “What are the odds you’d stumble on a relative in the same caravan? Besides, don’t you know your grandparents?”

“My father’s parents died a few years back, when Far Haven had influenza,” Aderyn said. “Mother never talks about her parents. And—Marrius knew names I haven’t told anyone here. Not just my siblings, but my aunt and uncle. I don’t think he’s lying.”

“What are you going to do?” Livia asked.

“Sleep, for one,” Aderyn said. “I’m too overwhelmed to face this tonight. Then—I don’t know. He said it was up to me whether we talk again. I don’t know what to do.”

“Sleeping on it is right,” Owen said. “You’ll take the first no-watch night. Don’t argue with me. You’d be far too distracted to keep watch.”

“I won’t argue.” Personally, Aderyn thought she needed the focus standing watch gave, but Owen was probably right about her mental state. “And I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

Beyla’s husband Artan, a slim, taciturn man as quiet as Beyla was loud, had told them they ate well for the first two or three nights out from a city. He hadn’t specified what “eating well” meant in practical terms, and Aderyn was pleased to find it meant meat roasted over the fire and piles of fresh vegetables and plenty of new ale. She ate until she was contentedly full and then sat beside the fire, staring into the flames, until after full dark when Livia extinguished them by dropping a pile of earth atop the coals. Then she lay on her bedroll beneath the musicians’ wagon and tried not to think of anything.

Grandfather.

She’d always known she had a grandfather somewhere, but it was an abstract knowledge she never felt moved to do anything about. Now she tried to link the concept of “grandfather” with Marrius’s bearded face. It wasn’t that impossible. She simply didn’t know anything about him to know whether she wanted a connection with him or not. He was kind, and polite without being obnoxious about it, and he’d spoken so directly she felt he’d meant it about leaving the next move to her. She couldn’t even say she wished he’d kept the secret to himself, because she agreed about how dangerous secrets could be.

She didn’t know how long she lay there wakeful before someone crawled under the wagon and settled nearby. “Still awake?” Owen asked.

“My thoughts won’t settle.”

“Understandable.”

They lay in silence for a while. Finally, Owen said, “Did he say why he never went back to Far Haven?”

“I didn’t ask. I was afraid to know, which is stupid, right? It’s not like it had anything to do with me.”

“It’s not stupid. I was just thinking I’d be curious if I were you. After all, if he hadn’t fought with your parents, or whatever happened, you wouldn’t have been ambushed by him in this caravan, and you’d be asleep right now.”

Aderyn laughed. “You make him sound like he was lying in wait for me by the side of the road.”

“Not quite that bad. But you looked pretty shaken when you reached our fire.”

“It was a shock.” Aderyn felt suddenly impatient with herself. She was behaving like a child. This was just knowledge. It wasn’t like it could wound her physically. “Who did you take a watch with?” she asked.

If her abrupt change of subject surprised Owen, he didn’t react. “Talandra. She’s a decent sort, for all she’s kind of bloodthirsty. We didn’t talk much, but a couple of times we heard noises that might have been monsters, and I practically had to restrain her from running off into the dark.”

“She was at the rear today when the burrowers struck. I think maybe she felt left out of the slaughter.”

“It’s just as well. She’d have stolen my kill.” Owen sounded resigned rather than bitter.

“You don’t really think that, do you?”

“I do. I know I shouldn’t be cynical, but those people—they don’t think like we do. I know, the whole time we journeyed here, we were focused on gaining experience, but there’s a difference between wanting experience so you can reach a level where you won’t immediately die from a serious threat, and wanting experience so you can advance and someone else can’t.”

“I—” Aderyn considered what she’d observed of Cadia and had to admit he was right. “It will be nice to reach Elkenforest and get away from them.”

“I agree. Now, try to sleep, okay? Otherwise you’ll have to steal Livia’s coffee to get yourself going in the morning, and we do not need bloodshed to start our day.”

Aderyn laughed and settled in to sleep.

ADERYN AVOIDED Marrius’s wagon for the next two days. She told herself it was because she had responsibilities to the caravan that didn’t include chatting with strangers, even if those strangers claimed to be family. But from where she and Owen walked, Marrius’s wagon was clearly visible, though it was far enough ahead Aderyn couldn’t see its driver. She refused to dwell on the guilty feeling that said she was losing an unprecedented opportunity.

On the fourth day, she and Owen and Weston walked point. There hadn’t been any more monster encounters, though yesterday they’d seen distant shapes Weston said were wolves, although even he hadn’t been able to see more than that they were unusually large wolves. Whatever they were, they didn’t approach the caravan, and after a few minutes they ran out of sight.

Walking point was more interesting than staying at the middle of the caravan. The view was better, for one, more varying, and today she was in a position to watch the forest draw ever closer. Also, Beyla liked to talk and never seemed to expect a response to any of her comments or stories. Aderyn could let her words wash over her, as good as music.

Though they had actual music, too. The group of musicians held practice sessions every day when the sun was hottest. The canvas cover of their wagon dimmed the sound, but it was still audible. Then, at night, Isold frequently joined in, singing lyrics to tunes Aderyn had known all her life but never realized had words. He was clearly a favorite with all the women, but Aderyn couldn’t guess which he intended to single out for a romance. She knew Isold too well now not to realize he would definitely choose one of the women.

Now Aderyn mopped sweat from her forehead and wished she had a hat. She no longer believed hats were for old people, not when they were so good at shielding anyone of any age from the sun. This was the hottest day so far, and it made Aderyn think pleasant thoughts about Elkenforest and the Pinnalore Mountains, not wintry but much cooler than here. Or even the forest ahead. She judged they had another hour before they reached it.

Owen walked beside her, his stride matching hers. She still wasn’t used to their paired skill [Keep Pace], which ensured Owen never outraced Aderyn by speeding Aderyn up. It seemed to work even when they were just walking, like now, and Aderyn couldn’t feel any strain the way she had before they’d gained the skill and she’d tried to match Owen’s longer gait. So strange.

“Movement over there,” Weston said. “To the west. Lots of figures, not very large.”

Aderyn looked where he was pointing and saw nothing. A Moonlighter’s vision was much better than hers in any case, but she thought whatever the creatures were, they were trying to stay concealed. “Are they coming this way?”

“Yes,” Weston said. “Not very fast.”

“Should we stop and make a defensive circle?” Beyla asked. She sounded more curious than nervous, which Aderyn appreciated.

“Scout ahead,” Owen told Weston. “Just far enough that you can see what’s there. It might be animals moving in a herd. Antelope, or whatever you get on the plains.”

Weston nodded and ran at a measured pace in the direction of the movement.

“Maybe we should get Cadia up here,” Beyla said. “Stop the caravan.”

“If it’s a threat, definitely,” Owen said calmly, “but a Moonlighter is a better scout than anyone but a Pathseer, and we don’t have one of those. Cadia can’t do better than Weston no matter her level. I think we should keep moving. If they are a major threat, and they see us stop, they might interpret that as fear and weakness.”

Beyla looked like she wanted to argue, but she subsided.

In less than a minute, Weston was back, not even a little winded. “Hobgoblins,” he said. “A whole tribe on the move. Maybe fifteen or twenty warriors, another twenty females, children, and elderly.”

Owen didn’t ask for clarification, though Aderyn was sure he didn’t know anything about hobgoblins. “On the move, and coming toward us?”

“Not exactly. If we stop, they’ll pass right by. If we both keep going in the same directions and at the same speed, I figure we’ll clash in thirty-five minutes.” Weston was still staring at the distant hobgoblins.

Owen hesitated. Aderyn quickly said, “We’ve never fought hobgoblins. Maybe Isold has a suggestion?”

Weston was off running down the line of wagons before Owen could say anything.

Beyla took off her hat and fanned herself with it. “Hobgoblins,” she said. “They’re dangerous?”

“Only in large groups. Individually, they’re no challenge,” Aderyn said, hoping she wasn’t lying. She’d checked the listing in her Monster Folio and it told her nothing, since, as she’d pointed out, they’d never encountered them. All she knew was what she’d read in her parents’ books, and that only said hobgoblins were power level two and traveled in tribes.

Weston returned with not only Isold, but Cadia trailing him. Isold shaded his eyes to see into the distance, but the tribe of hobgoblins had neared enough that they were readily visible. “If the entire tribe is present, the warriors will fight to the death to protect the young and the weak,” he said. “We should let them pass.”

“What are you talking about?” Cadia said. “They’re monsters. Hobgoblins have been known to devastate settlements purely for fun. We should destroy them.”

“Our duty is to the caravan,” Owen said, again as calmly as if Cadia’s outrage hadn’t been clear. “Hobgoblins are an easy kill, true, but there are enough of them we probably won’t escape unscathed.”

“You won’t. This is nothing to adventurers of my level.” Cadia turned to Beyla. “Stop the wagons. We’ll eliminate the monsters and they won’t ever be a threat to the caravan.”

“I agree we should stop,” Owen said. “But there’s no point in risking ourselves, or in leaving the caravan unprotected while we’re off slaughtering easy monsters, some of whom aren’t even fighters.”

“Owen’s right,” Aderyn said. “Suppose the hobgoblins are a distraction? We need to stay here.”

Beyla hauled up the red flag, the one that signaled a halt, and Artan pulled on the reins to bring the oxen to a stop. “I don’t want you risking yourselves. Stay put.”

“With all due respect, you aren’t the one who chooses how this caravan is defended, I am.” Cadia didn’t sound respectful. She sounded annoyed. “And I say we don’t leave monsters behind us where they might decide to attack when we’re not looking. You want to stay here, that’s up to you,” she told Owen. “We’re going to do what we were contracted to do.”

“Slaughter indiscriminately?” Owen said, his voice cold.

“Protect humans,” Cadia said with a snarl. She turned her back on Owen and strode away.

Chapter Seven

Aderyn put a restraining hand on Owen’s forearm, though he hadn’t moved to follow Cadia. He jerked away, then relaxed. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand. She’s wrong.”

“She has a point about not leaving anything at our back,” Beyla said. “But I’d take it as a kindness if you’d stay with the wagons. I don’t want us being defenseless.”

She sounded nervous, which was so unlike the caravan leader Aderyn didn’t immediately respond with You think we’re cowards? “We’ll go back and talk to the others,” she said instead. “I agree all the fighters shouldn’t leave you.”

Owen had already stalked away, his shoulders as rigid as his arms. Aderyn hurried after him, followed by Isold and Weston. This time, she felt the tension in her legs that said she was being moved faster than her own muscles could manage. She caught up to Owen and said, “What do we do?”

“Owen,” Isold said, “this doesn’t look good.”

“You mean it doesn’t make us look good,” Owen snarled. “This is an impossible situation. We can’t leave without risking the caravan, and we can’t stay without looking like cowards.”

“Do we care what Cadia thinks?” Aderyn said. “Owen, she’s the one doing the stupid thing.”

Owen stopped. “Then tell me what the strategy should be. You’ll see farther than I do. Right now all I can see is Cadia’s smug face and how much I’d like to see it ground into the mud. Which I know Livia can make happen.”

Aderyn looked past him at where the hobgoblin tribe was visible, not yet as individuals, but as more than a formless mass. “The best strategy is to let them pass,” she said. “We don’t engage unless they decide to attack, and I doubt they’ll do that because they have noncombatants to protect. But if Cadia insists on attacking them, we still stay here. We don’t know what other dangers are in the area, and our first duty is to the caravan.”

“But—” Weston began.

“It doesn’t matter what the others think of us,” Aderyn insisted. “This isn’t about impressing the more powerful adventurers. This is about what we promised to do. So what if they think less of us? They already do that. There are going to be plenty of opportunities to prove their opinion wrong, if that’s what you care about. But I think they were never going to treat us well, and this proves it.”

Owen was nodding. “You’re right. About everything. Weston, go get Livia. We’ll need to plan a defense of the caravan that doesn’t depend on the other group. I’ll tell Cadia what we’ve decided. Might as well pretend I respect her.” He gripped Aderyn’s shoulder briefly. “Never stop telling me the truth, okay?”

When he was gone, Isold said, “They’re going to mock us. That’s not easy to take.”

“I know. I don’t have a solution.”

Aderyn realized they’d stopped right next to Marrius’s wagon. Instinctively, she looked at the driver’s seat. Marrius was watching her. He’d clearly heard her speech, because he nodded in approval and then turned away. Blushing, Aderyn said, “I think we should tell Beyla what we decided. That will position us as the ones in charge, like we agreed on a strategy with Cadia instead of her haring off after glory.”

“If there’s any glory to be had in slaughtering innocents,” Isold said.

Aderyn stared at him in disbelief. “They’re monsters. How are they innocents? I mean, the only reason I argued against fighting them is practicality, not because I don’t think they should be killed.”

“It’s a whole tribe, Aderyn,” Isold said. “Children and those too old to fight. There’s no honor and no glory in killing anything that can’t fight back.”

Aderyn considered this and felt sick. “Cadia and her friends won’t stop at killing the warriors, will they?”

Isold shook his head.

Beyla was still standing on her wagon box, watching the hobgoblins, when Aderyn and Isold reached her. “We’ll stay to defend, and Cadia’s team will kill the monsters,” Aderyn told her. The words burned in her mouth.

Beyla looked relieved. “Oh, and there they are now,” she said, pointing. Cadia and her team were approaching the front of the caravan. They looked competent and dangerous, and for a second, Aderyn doubted her assessment. Then she straightened her spine. She was right, and Cadia was an irresponsible glory-hound.

“Stay here,” Cadia said to Beyla. “This won’t take long. You’re in no danger.” She shot Aderyn a look that clearly said staying behind was unnecessary and cowardly. Aderyn ignored her.

By the time Cadia’s team were out of earshot, Owen had returned with Livia and Weston. “That woman,” Owen said, and didn’t elaborate. “Aderyn, where should we go?”

“Front and rear,” Aderyn said, feeling guided by the inner certainty that her [Improved Assess 1] skill had become at level seven. “There’s no point watching from the middle, because we’ll see any attack coming and can move to wherever needs defending just as fast from point and rearguard. Don’t be distracted trying to see what’s going on with the hobgoblins. I don’t know enough to guess what kind of other threats might be out here—”

“Burrowers, still,” Isold said. “Corrupted wolves. Dust witches, though the weather’s probably not dry enough for them. Cockatrices.”

“So we’re probably all right, but we shouldn’t let that make us complacent. Owen and me to the front, the rest of us to the rear.”

“You heard her,” Owen said. “Let’s move.”

Aderyn and Owen took a position somewhat ahead of Beyla’s wagon. Without speaking, they paced just far enough to keep from being restless, with Aderyn watching one direction and Owen watching the other. Aderyn did her best to follow her own advice, but occasionally the sound of screams drifted their way, and then she peered into the distance, trying to make out figures.

“I swear, if I have a chance to rub her nose in failure, I will do so happily,” Owen said.

“Cadia?”

“Yeah. She was so dismissive. Like it’s even reasonable that a level seven Swordsworn would be afraid of hobgoblins. She wanted me to act in anger. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.”

“I’m glad. Her opinion is worthless.”

“I know, but it’s still—” His words cut off abruptly. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel—oh. That tremor?” The ground shook, barely enough to register. “Earthquake?”

“No.” Owen stood still, his head cocked as if he could hear the tremor as well as feel it. Aderyn felt it again, a stronger vibration this time.

“Which way,” Owen muttered, “which—come on! We need Livia!” He grabbed Aderyn’s hand and pulled her along after him, heading for the rear of the caravan. Beyla shouted something, but they were past before Aderyn could make it out.

The ground ahead of them erupted, and they stumbled to a halt. All along the line, oxen staggered and let out low sounds of distress. Aderyn gaped as something enormous, big as a caravan wagon and segmented like an armored worm, burst from the ground with a roar. On the other side of the caravan, a second enormous creature reared up. Both hit the ground, sending shockwaves rippling through the wagons and Aderyn and Owen, and shook themselves. Then, with another roar, they scuttled toward the wagons.

Owen dropped Aderyn’s hand and drew his sword. “Where do I hit it?” he screamed, pelting toward the monster.

Aderyn ran after him, Assessing the creature as she sped along. She only read the first three lines before stumbling over her own feet.

Name: Chaos Worm

Type: Magical beast

Power Level: 9

Blue lines of light only she could see streamed across the chaos worm’s body, crossing and intersecting a dozen times before resolving into a row of glowing blue dots, one at every place where the worm’s chitin overlapped. Larger blue spots gleamed on its underside, where its chin would be if it had a face. “The chitin—”

“I see it!” Owen shouted. “I can hear your voice. I’ll get to its other side for [Outflank]!”

Aderyn had forgotten the <Twinsword’s> weird ability. She hoped there were more abilities waiting to reveal themselves, like maybe the ability to cut through armor like butter or burst into flame. Though that might burn Owen, so probably not.

Owen ran, not to get ahead of the monster, but directly at it. With a leap and a roll, he was on its far side. Aderyn got into position and thrust at one of the gaps in the chaos worm’s chitin. She missed, but the worm stopped its rush to the caravan and turned on her. It was enough to give Owen an opening. His sword found the weak spot and thrust deep.

The chaos worm screamed and turned, lashing out at Owen. He dodged the thrashing tail and feinted as Aderyn found a weak spot of her own. Back and forth, they drew the monster away from the vulnerable wagon. Bluish-gray ichor flowed from beneath the chitin from a dozen wounds, and the monster slowed in its lunges at them, but didn’t fall.

A system notice surprised Aderyn:

Congratulations! You have defeated [Chaos Worm].

You have earned [3500 XP]

Movement at the top of the next wagon down startled Aderyn into looking away from the chaos worm for a second. That moment of inattention cost her. In the next second, she was flat on her back from a lucky flick of the monster’s tail, and the chaos worm was looming over her. It had no eyes, and its mouth was a series of rings within rings, all lined with sharp, triangular teeth.

Aderyn screamed. The monster shuddered. Then it dropped a few feet, its thrashing now less violent. Aderyn pushed herself to her elbows. An enormous mud puddle completely enveloped the worm’s lower half, pinning it so it couldn’t move. The underside of its neck was exposed, and again Aderyn saw the blue spot indicating a weakness.

Before she could say anything, Owen sprinted past and leaped, aiming his sword at the vulnerable underside. The blade drove deep, almost to the hilt. Blue-gray ichor gushed, pouring over Owen’s hand and arm. Owen screamed in pain, but the worm spasmed and then fell lifeless to the ground. The system notice appeared again, but Aderyn was already running to support Owen.

Owen had buried his arm to the shoulder in the mud. When Aderyn reached his side, he was breathing heavily. “Acid,” he panted. “I don’t know if this helps, but the pain isn’t as bad.”

Then Isold was there, drawing his <Wand of Minor Healing> from his belt. “That was wise. The mud will neutralize the acid—let me see your arm.” Without wiping away the mud, Isold waved the wand’s tip in a complicated pattern, and green light bubbled and flowed over Owen’s arm. Owen’s tight, pained expression relaxed.

“What happened to the other one?” he asked. “Where are Weston and Livia?”

“Right here,” Weston said. He was holding out his arms for Livia to jump down from the top of the wagon. “Livia drowned the other one most of the way in mud, and I got in a lucky shot through its throat with my [To the Heart] skill—more or less what you did.”

Owen silently extended his arm, and Livia summoned a mass of water to wash the mud away. Owen shivered with cold and wiped away the thin remains of earth. “Was there anything else?”

“Don’t you think two of those was enough?” Weston joked. “No other worm things, no. And I notice our ‘superiors’ didn’t come racing to the rescue.”

“Everyone spread out and check the wagons,” Owen said. “Make sure no one got hurt, and reassure them that the threat is over.”

It didn’t surprise Aderyn that Isold headed straight for the musicians’ wagon. What did surprise her was that her steps turned, almost without her volition, toward Marrius’s wagon.

She came to a stop. Checking on him and his wagon made sense. She was near it. But Owen was nearer, and he was moving to the front of the caravan, probably to talk to Beyla. In fact, it was almost as if all her friends had conspired to make her the one who would talk to the old Spellcrafter.

The thought made her irritated, not with them but with herself. She was being stupid. All right, so he was her grandfather—the idea that he’d lied about that was preposterous. She didn’t owe him anything, and she wasn’t going to fall sobbing into his arms at the reunion. But she could talk to him civilly. Maybe she could ask him why he’d never returned to Far Haven. That was as far ahead as she was willing to plan, but maybe that was enough.

Without hesitating further, she approached Marrius’s wagon.

Chapter Eight

Most of the caravan members had hidden in their wagons when the chaos worms appeared, but Marrius didn’t look like he’d left his seat since the caravan stopped. He silently watched her approach, then said, when she was near, “That was good work.”

Aderyn didn’t like how his approval warmed her. His opinion shouldn’t matter more than anyone else’s. But she didn’t want to be rude. “Thank you. It was a hard fight.”

“You have good teammates. Especially the blond boy. You worked well together. I didn’t think anyone else knew what a Warmaster was for.”

“Neither did I.” His words registered with her, and she said, “Wait. You mean you do?”

“I’ve met a few in my time. None of them lived up to their potential—that is, that was something they all said, that they felt their skills were wasted. I began to wonder if there was more to the class than the accepted wisdom that Warmasters are useless.” Marrius shifted. “You want to sit up here? It beats standing there getting a crick in your neck from looking up at me.”

Aderyn glanced to either side. Isold had disappeared. So had Livia. Weston stood behind a wagon two places ahead, talking to whoever was inside the wagon bed. She decided it wouldn’t hurt anything if she sat for a while. She climbed onto the seat, shifting her sword out of the way.

“So, tell me. Why are you different, Aderyn?” Marrius sounded genuinely curious.

Aderyn thought about this. She couldn’t tell him that Owen, being from another world, had been too ignorant to know a Swordsworn shouldn’t take advice or orders from a Warmaster. “I guess it’s because Owen—my partner, the Swordsworn—saw that my skills were valuable. A Warmaster needs a partner to reach their full potential, like those ones you met said they weren’t doing. We have paired skills, skills we both have that give each of us a boost. And we trust each other.”

“Amazing,” Marrius said. “So simple. And yet generations of Warmasters have been told their class is worthless, when all it takes is two people taking a chance on each other.” He chuckled. “That might be what makes it difficult. Trusting others is hard.”

“You mean, me trusting you,” Aderyn said.

“I didn’t, but it applies to us as well.” Marrius let out a deep breath. “I told you I don’t want anything from you, Aderyn. Or, rather, I’d like us to be friends, but I’m not going to demand you show me love or respect just because we’re related. Blood ties or no, we’re mostly strangers. But—”

When he didn’t immediately continue, Aderyn said, “But, what?”

Marrius looked at his hands, loosely gripping the reins. “I said things I regret, twenty-five years ago. It’s small comfort that your parents did the same. It doesn’t matter who was to blame if the result is the same. I lost my daughter, and I lost my chance at seeing her children grow up. I can’t make amends to Lyzette, but I can apologize to you.”

“To me?” Aderyn shook her head. “I can’t accept an apology for something that didn’t happen to me. I’m not the one you should apologize to for fighting.”

“Not that. You’re right, it’s Lyzette I should talk to. But she’s not here, and I wronged you as well, if in a different way. Family matters, Aderyn. I should have been there for you, all those years. I’m sorry I let pride get in the way of that.”

For a few seconds, Aderyn was speechless. Marrius had said so much she didn’t know where to start. “You were prideful?”

“I told you both Lyzette and I were at fault,” Marrius said. “But I was too proud to apologize for my half of the argument. That might have made a difference.”

“What did you argue about?”

Marrius’s smile twisted into a wry, humorless expression. “We blamed each other for her mother’s death. She claimed if I’d come to her sooner for the right potion, Arwenna would have survived her illness. I blamed her for waiting for an express invitation from me, because she and her mother were never close and Lyzette didn’t even know Arwenna was ill… oh, Aderyn, the details don’t matter now, twenty-five years after her death. I don’t know anymore who’s to blame, or even if it matters. It’s not like it makes Arwenna any less lost to us.”

“You could have come back,” Aderyn said. “You had twenty-five years to overcome your pride.”

“And I never have. Pathetic, isn’t it?” Marrius shrugged. “Lyzette never made any attempt to reach me, either—no, I’m not blaming her, I’m saying we both had opportunities we didn’t take. And now it’s too late.”

Aderyn didn’t respond. She didn’t think it was ever too late for an apology, not if you loved someone, but she didn’t like to criticize when it wasn’t her argument that was the issue. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That you’ve been alone all this time.”

“It hasn’t been so bad. I hadn’t thought about Lyzette for years until you showed up in the caravan. You look just like her, you know.”

“I know.” Aderyn saw Owen approaching. “I should go.”

“Thank you for listening. I wish things were different.”

Aderyn hopped down. “Maybe we could talk again sometime. If you want.”

“I would love that, Aderyn.”

Aderyn walked away without looking back, but again she could feel Marrius’s attention on her. This time, it wasn’t so disturbing.

Owen joined her halfway up the caravan line. “Cadia’s coming back,” he said. “I want us near the chaos worm when she meets us. Let her see what her stupidity caused.”

“You don’t mean the chaos worms attacked because she and her team were gone, do you?”

“No, I mean I was right about the potential for a much more dangerous attack. I plan to rub it in her face. Subtly, of course.” He grinned. “Maybe not very subtly.”

Isold was standing beside the chaos worm’s corpse when they reached it. A couple of the older children hovered nearby, looking both awed and disgusted. “Its chitin is a valuable component for magical armor,” Isold said absently, “but I’m not sure we want to haul it all the way to Ashenfell. I’m trying to remember if they have any other useful body parts.”

“Only if you harvest them. I’m done being eaten by acid blood,” Owen said. “Hah. They’re coming. Try to look nobly upset or something.”

“Owen, I have no idea what that looks like,” Aderyn said in exasperation.

“It looks just like what you’re doing now.” Owen saluted Cadia with a half-wave. “I see none of you were injured by the hobgoblins.”

“What is this?” Cadia exclaimed. “Some kind of worm?”

“A chaos worm, in fact,” Owen said. “Something you would have known if you hadn’t insisted on beating up a lot of yard trash—low-level monsters, I mean. But, since we were able to defeat them ourselves, I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“You defeated these,” Talandra said flatly.

“No, they impaled themselves. Of course we defeated them. How fortunate that we all didn’t rush off, leaving the caravan undefended. It took you, what, ten minutes to return?”

Cadia’s face was red with anger. “What are you insinuating? Are you saying we’re incompetent?”

Owen raised his eyebrows. “Incompetent? Of course not. You did slaughter a tribe of power level two monsters by yourselves.”

Cadia’s clenched fist burst into flame. Garet grabbed her shoulder. “Let’s not fight among ourselves, all right? We’re all missing the point here. Both of us were right. Now the hobgoblins aren’t a threat to the caravan, and the caravan wasn’t destroyed by an unexpected attack. Right?”

Owen didn’t move. Slowly, Cadia unclenched her fist, and the fire went out. “Right,” she said. “The plan we agreed on worked. Everyone did their part.” She smiled, a tight, mirthless expression. “And you gained what I’m sure is much-needed experience.”

“Seven thousand to each of our party,” Owen said. “Not that you’d miss an insignificant amount like that.”

Cadia’s smile vanished. She turned on her heel and stormed off, followed by her team. Dashan looked back once over his shoulder and nodded at Owen, an unexpected mark of respect, before continuing after Cadia.

Owen let out a deep breath. “That was satisfying. And probably a long-term mistake. I should have left her her pride.”

“I don’t think it would have mattered,” Aderyn said. “She’s the kind of sideways bully who enjoys making others feel small and worthless. We won’t let her do that to us.”

“Very wise,” Isold said. “There’s the signal to move out. Will Beyla have us go much farther, do you think?”

“As far as it takes to get away from all the monster corpses,” Owen said. “We’ll be into the forest before she orders a halt.”

When the caravan moved out, Aderyn and Owen started to return to the front, but then Cadia and Dashan swept past, moving so rapidly there was no question that Cadia intended to walk point. Owen and Aderyn exchanged glances, silently agreeing to let the woman have her way.

Another hour brought them to the forest, and within sight of the hobgoblin tribe’s slaughter. Monster bodies broke down rapidly starting about an hour after death, and by the time the caravan was close enough to see the corpses, there wasn’t much left to see—armor and weapons, a couple of hand-drawn carts. The smell of burnt flesh was faint on the brisk breeze. Aderyn hadn’t been able to stop imagining hobgoblin children, bloody in death. It was stupid, because those children were monsters and would grow up to terrorize human settlements. Maybe she was too weak to be a real adventurer.

She was grateful when they entered the forest and left all the monstrous bodies behind, hobgoblins and worms alike. Unlike the forest outside her home, which had been thinned by people chopping down trees for lumber or firewood, this forest had never seen axe or saw. Its trees grew close together, their thick trunks gray-brown and mossy, their thick leaves shading the path and turning the light emerald green. The coolness Aderyn had dreamed of for the past four days soothed her still-heightened emotions.

Owen had been right: they didn’t travel for many more hours before Beyla called a halt. “We all need some rest,” she said. “Gather in, and we’ll eat together.”

There wasn’t much space to gather in, and the wagons had to stay lined up along the path through the woods—it was too narrow to justify the name “road”—but they did their best. Some of the wagon drivers cleared the undergrowth for a big fire, carefully tended so it wouldn’t outgrow its bounds and set the forest ablaze. Livia filled an enormous cauldron with water, and Artan set salt pork to soak, and soon the smell of boiling meat filled the little clearing.

Aderyn went with Owen to walk the perimeter, or at least what they decided was a decent perimeter. Neither of them spoke. Their companionable silence made Aderyn consider if someday one of their paired skills would be shared thoughts. She wasn’t sure that was a good idea. It would be one thing if it made them able to send mental messages to one another, but suppose it let them hear each other’s secret thoughts instead? She didn’t want Owen knowing how she watched him at times, or how she wished he was interested in her.

Nothing stirred in the forest but some small animals, voles and squirrels. The birds sang merrily in the trees. Occasional breezes ruffled the leaves, high above. There couldn’t be any predators, let alone any monsters, for miles, not with how peaceful all the forest animals were. Aderyn relaxed out of the tension she’d felt ever since the chaos worms’ attack. It was too bad she and Owen weren’t sweethearts, because this was the perfect place for a declaration of love.

When they returned to camp, the soup was finished cooking, and almost everyone sat or stood near the fire, eating and chatting quietly. Even the children were quiet, as if the day’s excitement had sapped their usual energy. Aderyn and Owen accepted bowls of soup and joined their friends off to one side. Weston and Livia were amiably bickering over something Aderyn hadn’t heard. Isold’s attention was fixed on the group of musicians.

“Isold, you have to pick one and put the others out of their misery,” Aderyn said in a low voice.

Isold startled. Then he smiled. “Do I?”

“Well… I suppose you don’t have to romance any of them, but I thought you were interested.”

Isold nodded slowly. “I suppose we’ll have to see what happens.”

The curly-haired drummer stood and beckoned to Isold. “Let’s have a song, shall we?”

Isold rose from his seat and set his empty bowl aside. “Plenty of choice,” he said cryptically, and crossed the clearing to sit with the musicians. Aderyn watched him smile at each of them in turn. She couldn’t tell if he liked one more than the others. See what happens, eh? Isold was probably teasing her. He knew she was completely inexperienced in romance except for books she’d read. He had a preference; he just didn’t want to share it.

Beside her, Owen set his own bowl down and said, “He’s got more nerve than I have.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he plans to—well, maybe I’m wrong.”

“Wrong about what?”

Owen cleared his throat. “He’s not going to be satisfied with just one.”

Aderyn’s eyes widened, and she whipped around to stare at the little group again. “What?”

“I said I could be wrong. But he’s flirting with all of them, and Isold never wastes a flirtation on someone who might not be interested.”

Aderyn’s cheeks were hot enough to burst into flame like Cadia’s fist. “But—they’re like sisters—wouldn’t they be jealous?”

Owen shrugged. “Maybe. I guess we’ll find out.” He leaned back, propping himself on both hands. “I hope he doesn’t leave any of them with more than they wanted.”

“I don’t understand,” Aderyn said.

Owen reddened slightly. “You know. If one of those women gets pregnant.”

“How would that happen?” Aderyn, puzzled, focused on Owen fully. “He’s an adventurer.”

“Yeah, but—” Owen’s face grew redder. “You mean he’s taking precautions because he’s on the road?”

“I mean he can’t impregnate them, of course. Not so long as he’s actively adventuring.”

Owen blinked. “What?”

It was Aderyn’s turn to blush. “I didn’t think—but why would you know? Men adventurers can’t get anyone pregnant, and women adventurers can’t become pregnant.” She didn’t add that women adventurers didn’t even have monthly bleeding. That seemed way too personal.

“That’s amazing,” Owen said. “So you mean Isold is shooting blanks?”

That cleared Aderyn’s head. “I do not mean that, because it’s nonsense talk from your world. But I can’t imagine it working any other way. How awful if you had to cut your adventuring career short to take care of a child? Or have a one-night stand and come back a year later to find it had resulted in a baby?”

“It does make sense,” Owen said. “I guess that means Isold really doesn’t have anything to worry about except making a lot of those women jealous.”

Aderyn watched Isold accept a small drum from the curly-haired woman and follow the pattern she showed him. He was good at romancing women, but good enough to romance an entire group without causing a serious eruption?

“I don’t know how he does it,” Owen went on. “I mean, what do women in your world like? In a courtship, I mean?”

“In courtship?”

“Yeah. What would you expect?”

Flustered by his sudden change of topic, Aderyn stammered, “I don’t know. I mean—”

“Aderyn, tell Livia she’s out of her mind,” Weston interrupted.

“There’s nothing wrong with not liking to dance,” Livia said. “Dancing is flirtation. I prefer the direct approach.”

“Dancing is key to establishing romantic compatibility,” Weston said. “I don’t know any woman who doesn’t love to dance.”

“You do now,” Livia retorted. “I’ve never seen the point.”

“That’s because you’re boring and don’t believe in fun.”

“I believe in shared interests and good conversation as the basis for a relationship. What you call fun, I call an unhealthy obsession with superficiality.”

Weston let out a pained groan. “Superficiality? Let me tell you—”

“This is the kind of conversation that can only end in a gunshot,” Owen said.

“Oh, I get that one,” Aderyn said. “Guns are like bows that shoot sling pellets. I’m still not sure that would work.”

“I’m going to sleep,” Owen said, rolling his eyes. “Wake me when the world ends or when Livia and Weston agree on something. I’m not sure which will come first.”

Chapter Nine

The next day, Owen took Aderyn aside into the trees as the caravan was readying to move out. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I would never think that.”

“I think I made a mistake in alienating Cadia’s team.”

Aderyn blinked. “I was wrong. You’re crazy. Why would you think that? She already disliked us, so why would anything we do make things worse?”

“We still have to travel together,” Owen said. “We may end up fighting together. We shouldn’t be enemies.”

“Well, what can we do about it?”

“I’m going to have us split up to walk with members of the other team. Will you hang back? If anything happens, and we have to run to meet an enemy, you’ll catch up faster than anyone else thanks to [Keep Pace].”

Aderyn glanced behind her to where the Swifthands, Dashan, leaned against the last wagon in the caravan. He looked asleep on his feet as usual. “All right. You’re not going to try to make amends with Cadia, are you?”

“Definitely not. Weston is a better choice to do that. He’s charming in a direct sort of way and almost impossible to insult.” Owen gripped her hand briefly. “Thanks. You know I’d rather stand guard with you.”

The touch of his hand made her unexpectedly flustered. She stammered, “Well, what are partners for?”

Owen released her with a nod and hurried out of sight to the other side of the caravan. Aderyn sighed. Romance was harder when you didn’t have it.

She trudged to where Dashan stood and hesitated, not sure whether interrupting his nap was a good idea if she was meant to be making friends. But Dashan said, without opening his eyes, “Don’t say it’s a fine morning.”

“All right, I won’t.”

“I like the sun. It just comes out way too early. Sunrise ought to be at noon.” Dashan straightened and blinked rapidly, finally squinting in Aderyn’s direction. “You’re Aderyn, right?”

He already knew her name, thanks to [Assess], but saying it that way indicated that he meant not to impose on her. “Yes. And you’re Dashan.”

“That was good work yesterday. Chaos worms are tough even for adventurers of their power level. None of you got any of its blood on you? It’s acidic.”

“Owen did, but we healed it. After he bathed his arm in mud.”

“That was another clever trick by your Earthbreaker. Never seen anything like that, but I’ve never teamed with a spellslinger, not until Cadia.” Dashan shielded his eyes and looked toward the lead wagon. “Time to go. Lucky us, we’re eating their dust today.”

Aderyn nodded. “I guess everyone takes a turn.”

The rear wagon lurched into motion, and Aderyn waited a few seconds before following. She and Dashan walked in silence for a while. Aderyn wasn’t sure why Dashan complained so much about the sunlight. Very little of it reached the ground through the leaves. But no doubt she had strange quirks as well, and she shouldn’t criticize others’ harmless differences.

Dashan cleared his throat and spat into the undergrowth. “You’ve been together since level one, right?”

“We have. We traveled through the sanctuary cities until level five, and then made the trip to Guerdon Deep.” Aderyn remembered Owen’s words about not being enemies and added, “You said you’d never worked with a spellslinger before—how many other teams have you been with?”

“Three, including this one.” Dashan stretched and rotated his neck, making it pop. “My first team was wiped out at level four—we left the safe zone too soon. I barely survived. Then for a while I was with a team that hunted monsters. That took me to level ten. We met Cadia’s team on the road to Branlight. I was getting tired of monster hunting, so I was looking for a change, and when I heard about her quest, I knew I wanted in.”

“Yes, the Winter’s Peril dungeon. I’ve never heard of it. Is it a big one?”

She braced herself for an outpouring of scorn at her ignorance, but Dashan said, “Middling size, based on the reports. It’s dangerous, though. Not just for its monsters, but for its traps. And, of course, it’s made of ice, so there’s the environmental hazard. But for a quarter of a thousand gold coins plus whatever other treasure is there, I’m willing to risk it.”

Aderyn whistled. “That is a lot of coin. Maybe we should come back through Elkenforest in a few levels and try for it ourselves.”

“Don’t do it on a whim,” Dashan warned. “It kills about one in four teams that try it.”

“How does anyone know that? Maybe some of those teams fail and leave and don’t admit to failure.”

Dashan shook his head. “The sky above it lights up when Winter’s Peril claims a life. Big shifting veils of blue and green and purple. It’s why there are rumors that it’s alive. The adventurers who make it out say they felt like they were being watched while they were inside. Personally, I think those are stories spread by teams that don’t want the competition.”

“I agree. A living dungeon sounds preposterous.”

They walked a little longer as Aderyn considered more topics of conversation. The only thing that came to mind was yesterday’s battles, and she wanted to stay clear of those. She also didn’t want to draw attention to Cadia’s quarrel with Owen. That didn’t leave much. “What’s it like, being with different teams?” she finally asked.

“Every team has its own personality, depending on how its members relate,” Dashan said. “My first team, we were the best of friends. We were age-mates, grew up together, got the Call at the same time. I nearly retired after they were killed. The thought of joining another team scared me, because either we wouldn’t be close friends, and I’d miss that, or we would be close friends and I’d never be able to stop comparing. Fortunately, I couldn’t afford a Bonemender, so I took a long time healing.”

“How is that fortunate? You mean, because it gave you time to think?”

Dashan gave her a surprised look. “You’re insightful. Yes, it gave me time to consider my options. I told myself I wouldn’t retire until I was fully healed, and by that time, I realized I couldn’t bring my friends back, and they wouldn’t want me to give up just because they were gone. So I joined the first team I could find.”

“Were they friends?”

“Not close ones. Colleagues, maybe. We worked well together, but in the end, when I decided to leave, it wasn’t gut-wrenching. And now there’s Cadia and Talandra and Garet.” He chuckled. “We’re closer than I was to my last team. Cadia isn’t good at tactics, so we all sort of fight independently, and I like that. Though Garet is hard to get close to. He’s got that look that says he’s always thinking about how he could take advantage of someone. He wouldn’t ever do anything bad, certainly not to a teammate, but it is unsettling.”

Aderyn remembered Weston’s analysis of Garet and chose not to comment.

“What about you? You’ve been with your team through more levels than I was with any of mine—what’s that like?”

Caught off guard, Aderyn at first couldn’t collect her thoughts. “I guess we’re as close as you were to your first teammates. We sort of fell into companionship—Owen and I met in Far Haven, and then Livia had a quest and Weston invited himself along, and then there was a dungeon that required more than the four of us, and then it was like we couldn’t imagine not traveling and fighting together.”

“And it’s not because Owen is the Fated One,” Dashan said.

Aderyn tripped over an unseen root and stumbled a few steps before she caught her balance. “How—why would you say that?”

“One of my first teammates was the Fated One. Or a Fated One.” Dashan lowered his head. “I loved her, and I couldn’t save her. But she had an air about her that Owen has, too. Like confidence, except it runs deeper than that. After Erissa, I learned to look for it in others.”

“I’m sorry you lost your sweetheart,” Aderyn said.

“Thanks. It was hard.” Dashan cleared his throat again. “I haven’t said anything to my team. Figured if you were actively pursuing the Fated One quest, you’d have been open about it, so you must not want the news spread around.”

“You didn’t have to be so generous. Why?”

Dashan shrugged. “Maybe in remembrance of Erissa. Maybe I just understand about wanting privacy. Your secret’s safe here, is what I’m saying.”

“Thank you,” Aderyn said.

She waited for Dashan to press for more information, but instead he said, “Look me up when you’re finished with whatever you’re doing in Elkenforest, after we’ve defeated the dungeon. I’ll give you some tips for if your team eventually decides to tackle Winter’s Peril.”

“Really? That would be so helpful.”

Dashan grinned. “We adventurers have to stick together against the dungeons, right?”

They walked in silence from then on, Aderyn feeling she’d done her part to mend fences—but she’d done it because she liked Dashan, and not because she wanted to manipulate him, so that was even better. By the time they stopped for lunch, and Dashan left to join his team for a meal, Aderyn was feeling more hopeful than before. Dashan was nice, and Talandra wasn’t awful, so if Cadia could learn to respect Aderyn’s friends, and Garet could stop being obnoxiously smug… well, two out of four was acceptable.

Chapter Ten

Marrius hailed her as Aderyn walked forward along the line of wagons, looking for Owen. “Your blond friend took that mountain of a companion of yours to explore the area, to make sure we won’t have any monstrous surprises.”

“Oh.” Aderyn felt a little downcast that Owen hadn’t asked her to go. “Thanks.”

“You want something to eat? I have some excellent cheeses.”

She thought about it for a second or two. “Sure. That would be nice.”

Marrius hopped down from his seat and walked to the rear of the wagon, where he unlaced the cover and opened the back flap. He worked a lever, and three little steps unfolded. “Clever, huh?” he said when Aderyn exclaimed. “I’m not as spry as I was when I was sixty.” He stumped up the steps and gave Aderyn a hand to steady her as they rocked with the wagon’s movement.

Inside, she had another surprise. The long wagon was fitted out with a bed and a small table fixed to the wagon’s side, with a chair that folded away out of sight that Marrius now pulled out. A cabinet beside the table, latched shut for while the wagon was in motion, turned out to contain the kind of food Aderyn was used to seeing on long travels, but of such high quality it almost didn’t matter that it was dried or preserved: bowls of dried grapes and plums, bags of nuts that didn’t come from anywhere local, crackers in sealed boxes, and five different cheeses, all of them giving off subtle aromas that made Aderyn’s mouth water.

“Have a seat,” Marrius said, gesturing at the chair. “I’ll sit over here.” He dragged a box near the cabinet and busied himself setting out food. Aderyn examined the rest of the wagon’s interior while she waited. What wasn’t used as living space was taken up by boxes of all sizes ranging from the width of her palm to two feet across. She remembered that Marrius was a Spellcrafter, and the boxes roused her curiosity.

“What kind of Spellcrafter are you?” she asked. “Do you imbue existing items, or build new ones?”

Marrius handed her a small wedge of soft white cheese. “Try that,” he said. “I’ve done a little of both, but these days I’m an inventor. I spent years using magic to fight monsters, and now I find I’m interested in magic that benefits people in other ways.”

Aderyn bit into the wedge. The cheese was sharp and pungent and creamy all at once. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, this is delicious.”

“I used to be a wine connoisseur, but wine doesn’t travel well. So I picked up a cheese habit instead.” Marrius grinned, making himself look thirty years younger and impish as a schoolboy. “Plus it takes up less space.”

“I can see how that would matter, if you live in this wagon. It’s so cozy.”

“I think so. Carrying your home with you—it’s satisfying in a different way than being a householder. They both have benefits, but for my time of life, this is what suits me.” Marrius took a bite of his own cheese. “Eat that with some of these crackers.”

They ate for a while without speaking. It was the best meal Aderyn had had since leaving Guerdon Deep—maybe longer than that, given that Clerra’s inn wasn’t known for its cuisine. Finally full, she said, “Thank you. That was much better than the dried meat I planned to have.”

“Dried meat, ugh. A necessity, but I ate enough of it in my adventuring days I swore I’d never eat it again unless it was a choice between that and literal starvation.” They laughed together. “And I’m pleased to share what I have with you.”

Aderyn nodded. Then, hesitant, she said, “I think my brother Borrus would like you. He loves good food, too. We all teased him about how he needed to only adventure in big cities where he wouldn’t go without.”

“Borrus. Is he older or younger than you?”

“I’m the youngest. It’s Nollan, Pia, Borrus, and then me.”

Marrius settled back in his seat and pulled out a long-stemmed pipe. “And do you all get along?”

“Yes, actually. Oh, we fought sometimes, but it was never anything serious. My parents always reminded us that friends come and go, but family is for keeps, and we needed to remember we’d be brothers and sisters for our whole lives. And I guess that lesson stuck. None of them ever complained about me tagging along for their games, and I never whined about the unfairness of me being smaller. I miss them. I wish they’d been here for when I got the Call, though of course they’re all out adventuring.” She laughed. “I used to imagine we’d all be a team when the time came. That was when I was too young to understand how much level difference there would be between us, right up until we all reached the level cap.”

“Have you heard from them at all? I assume none of them have retired to Far Haven yet.”

“No. It’s a big world, and it’s hard to get messages to places even if you have a spellslinger in your party.” Aderyn blinked back unexpected tears. “I hope they, you know, that if anything happens to them, we’ll eventually know about it. I don’t think I could bear it if they simply disappeared.”

Marrius put his free hand on Aderyn’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “There are ways. Your parents know how to find out their fates. But most adventurers live long enough to retire and settle down.”

“That’s what worries me most about Pia. She’s so driven, I know she won’t be satisfied with anything less than level twenty, even if something happens to make her retire early.” Aderyn wiped her eyes and cursed herself. She hated crying in front of anyone, even friends.

But Marrius didn’t do anything to draw attention to her moment of weakness. “Wait a moment,” he said. He opened one of the wooden boxes and shifted things around inside it before finally coming up with another, much smaller cube, about six inches on a side. This one was hinged on one side and stained black and smoothly varnished. Marrius sat beside Aderyn again and opened it like a clamshell.

Inside was what at first glance Aderyn thought was a spiked ball. It was the size of her fist and circled by two rings of shining steel from which protruded short, dull spikes. A second glance revealed that the ball was actually composed of concentric rings within rings, all of the inner ones moving slightly in different directions, all of them made of different metals, copper, gold, brass, and silver.

Marrius held it balanced between his thumb and middle finger like holding two ends of a spike driven through an apple. “This is a <Wayfinder>,” he said. “When it’s activated, it points the way toward the thing you want most. It takes some work learning to control it, since the human heart wants what it wants, but it operates over vast distances and is as accurate as your own desires let it be.” He extended it to Aderyn. “Try it.”

Aderyn accepted the spiky ball in both hands and held it gingerly. On closer inspection, one of the spikes was larger than the others and instantly made her think of a compass pointing to true north. She turned the ball, and the inner rings began rotating, gradually speeding up until they made a whirring noise as they moved. The large spike turned a warm pink like the glow of a sunset. She gasped.

“Keep turning, and the color will deepen. The spike also gets warm the more directly it points at what you seek,” Marrius said.

Aderyn turned on her seat until she was facing the side of the wagon. As Marrius had said, the color gradually shifted from blush pink to rose to a deep red like heart’s blood. She gingerly touched the spike; it was hot, not hot enough to burn, but hot like metal that’s been left too close to the fire.

“I don’t know what it’s pointing at,” she said. “There isn’t anything I especially want right now.”

“Isn’t there?” Marrius said.

At that moment, Aderyn heard the voices of two people approaching. One was Weston’s deep rumble, and the other was… Aderyn blushed and lowered the <Wayfinder>, which dimmed and cooled instantly as the rings slowed down.

“That’s what I thought,” Marrius said. “It’s your partner. Owen.”

She blushed harder. “It’s not like it can go anywhere. I’m just being foolish. He’s not interested in me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t he say something? He’s not shy. And we’re friends—if he wanted us to be more than friends, he knows I wouldn’t be cruel if I didn’t feel the same.”

“Sometimes it takes a while,” Marrius said. “Not everyone knows their own heart as clearly as you do. I wouldn’t give up hope yet.”

Aderyn nodded. “I’ll remember.”

She extended the <Wayfinder> to him. Marrius shook his head. “That’s for you.”

“What? I can’t accept this. It must be worth hundreds of gold!”

“Don’t worry about the cost. I’ve got ten more of these ready to sell in Ashenfell and Elkenforest. And don’t think I’m trying to buy your affection, or that I think this can make up for abandoning you.”

“Then why?”

Marrius looked thoughtful. “What you said about your family interests me. It’s rare to find siblings so attached to each other. And I don’t like the idea that you won’t ever find each other again. So this is by way of being my hope for your future. You can use it for whatever you like—I’ll teach you how to control it—but my guess is you’ll eventually want to track down your brothers and sister and bring them home.”

This time, Aderyn didn’t try to stop her tears. “That’s what I want.”

“It’s what I want for you,” Marrius said.

Aderyn nodded. Then she threw her arms around her grandfather’s neck and held him tight.

Chapter Eleven

With the <Wayfinder> weighing down her pack, Aderyn’s heart was, by contrast, light enough to feel like she was floating. She chattered to Dashan about anything she could think of, and Dashan didn’t treat her like a madwoman, which made her feel even better. He gradually responded to her chattering by sharing stories of his own, and by the time the caravan stopped for the night, she felt she and the Swifthands were becoming friends.

They made camp in individual groups that night, not as one big caravan the way they had the previous evening, but when Aderyn went looking for her friends, she found only Livia, kneeling beside a fire she’d just sparked with her magic. “Livia, where is everyone?”

“Isold went to get our ration of salt pork, but I expect he’s been sidetracked by the musicians,” Livia said. “You want to set up the spit? Owen went to scout with Talandra, and I don’t know where Weston is. I haven’t seen him since morning.”

Aderyn set up the two forked metal sticks and let Livia slide the pot’s handle over the thicker third stick before setting it across the first two. “I know he and Owen scouted at midday. Why is Owen going twice? Everyone should take turns.” She suppressed a truly irrational jealousy of Talandra. Owen would never be interested in her, and even if he was, it was none of Aderyn’s business.

Livia summoned water into the pot and with her magical breeze swept a larger area of their little clearing free of fallen leaves and small twigs. The wind blew Aderyn’s hair wildly around her face. “That’s gotten stronger over time, hasn’t it?” she said.

“All my basic beginning spells have. I think it’s so we spellslingers don’t feel like they’re a burden on our spell lists. You know, having access to a bunch of spells that are useless because I’m such a high level. Sorry about messing up your hair.”

“It’s all right.” Aderyn finger-combed her hair back into place. Once the breeze had finished clearing the space, she laid out her bedroll a short distance from the fire and sat on it, watching the flames. She thought about napping, given that she had third watch tonight and it would interrupt her sleep, but at that moment Isold came through the trees carrying a sack he handed to Livia.

“Salt pork, carrots, turnips, and a couple of potatoes,” he said. “Delicious soup fixings.”

“I thought you might decide to spread your bedroll elsewhere tonight,” Aderyn teased.

Isold winked. “It’s going to be a long night. Who knows what might happen?”

Aderyn thought about what Owen had said and blushed. Isold’s smile deepened.

“Help me cut these up, you two—and where is Weston? I hope he’s not skiving off somewhere.” Livia didn’t sound annoyed despite her words.

Aderyn accepted a handful of carrots and drew her belt knife. Her hand brushed the hilt of her other knife, the one she’d picked up in Asylum a few weeks back and never yet had the chance to use. It was all wrong for chopping vegetables, but she suddenly felt guilty, as if she owed it to the knife to use it. Maybe in the right battle.

Owen returned just as the last of the vegetables were added to the pot. “Oh,” he said, sounding dismayed. “I should have been here to help.”

“It’s no trouble. You were scouting,” Aderyn said, forgetting that she’d objected to his scouting just minutes before. “Everything all right?”

“The area is clear. We’re a little closer to a place of fungal growth than I’d like, but when Talandra and I checked it out, it seemed to be deserted. Still, I think we should keep a good watch in that direction.”

“Which way is that?” Isold asked.

“On the far side of the caravan from here.” Owen waved his hand idly in that direction. “I should—”

“Sit and rest, Owen,” Livia said. “You don’t have a watch tonight. I think you can consider yourself done for the day.”

Owen did look tired, Aderyn thought, his blue eyes shadowed and his mouth drawn down at the corners. He didn’t argue anymore, just laid out his bedroll near Aderyn’s and sat heavily on it. Aderyn had an unexpected impulse to hug him, to lay her head on his shoulder and give him comfort. She blinked it away. What a terrible idea.

That reminded her of the person she had hugged that day. “Look at this,” she said. She dug deep in her knapsack until she found the box containing the <Wayfinder>. The others all leaned in and exclaimed when they saw the gleaming metal.

“A <Wayfinder>,” Isold said. “Where did you get that?”

“Marrius—my grandfather gave it to me.” She felt shy about explaining his reasons, and then she felt stupid about her shyness. “He meant it to help me find my siblings, eventually.”

“That’s a precious gift, then,” Owen said, “not even considering how much it’s probably worth.”

“It’s not a quest I expect us to take on,” Aderyn said. “But someday, when I’m ready to retire, I’ll see if I can find my family and bring them all home. You know, in case something happened to them. Or maybe I’ll find they’ve settled happily elsewhere. It gives me hope.”

“What does it do?” Livia asked.

Aderyn let Isold explain the workings of the <Wayfinder> as she cradled it in her hands. The spikes didn’t hurt, though if you used the thing as a missile weapon, they would do damage. But what a waste of all that beauty to treat it as nothing but a lump of metal.

She heard rustling that echoed strangely for a moment, as if someone was approaching from two directions at once, and looked up from her contemplation of her treasure to see Weston stomping through the trees toward them. His normally cheerful expression was gone, replaced by a scowl so thunderous Aderyn’s greeting died in her throat.

“Finally,” Livia said. “Where have you been? The food’s nearly ready.”

“I don’t have to clear my actions with you. You’re not my mother,” Weston snapped.

Even though he hadn’t addressed her, Aderyn felt like she’d been slapped. Livia’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Stop trying to manage all of us,” Weston said. “Being sensible doesn’t make you our boss.”

“Livia doesn’t—” Aderyn began.

“Weston, you’re out of line,” Owen said sharply.

“Am I? You’re not much better,” Weston said.

Owen rose and walked, one measured pace at a time, to where Weston stood. Weston towered over him, but Owen faced him fearlessly. “I don’t know what your problem is,” he said, “but we’re your friends, and we deserve better than this. If something’s wrong, we want to help.”

Weston’s breathing was harsh and heavy. “Maybe I’m just tired of being told what to do,” he snarled. “Maybe I don’t appreciate being treated like the team’s fool, just because I like a good laugh and a joke. Well, that ends now.”

“Are you saying you want to leave?” Owen said. Aderyn held her breath. Weston couldn’t leave. He just couldn’t. Without any one of them—

“I’m saying I’m done being laughed at.” Weston shoved past Owen and stormed into the darkness, away from the camp.

Aderyn realized she was standing. “He can’t go off on his own.”

“I’ll go after him,” Isold said.

“I’ll come too,” Owen said.

“My apologies, but I don’t think he can stand the sight of you, for whatever reason,” Isold said with a grimace. “I’ll get him to return to the caravan, even if he doesn’t come back here. He still has a watch to stand, if nothing else.” He moved off into the darkness, following the sound of Weston’s crashing footsteps.

Owen stared after them. Aderyn, looking at his eyes, didn’t think he was seeing much of anything just then. “Owen,” she said.

“I don’t remember making fun of him,” Owen said. “And I never—I mean, it’s not like we voted on a leader. I didn’t know he didn’t like me telling him what to do.”

“That’s not it,” Livia said. Her face in the firelight was very pale. “Something else is wrong. He’s never spoken to me like that.”

“But what?” Aderyn exclaimed. “Was he this angry when you were scouting at midday?”

Owen shook his head. “We just talked. He was his usual self.”

“Well, maybe it was something you talked about.”

“I don’t think so. It wasn’t anything important.” Owen again turned so he wasn’t meeting Aderyn’s eyes. “Just things I wanted to know about how your world works.”

By his shiftiness, Aderyn suspected he wasn’t telling the whole truth—but what questions could Owen possibly have that would send Weston into a rage, and a delayed rage at that? “Then it was something that happened this afternoon or evening. Does anyone know if he encountered one of the other team? Maybe they insulted him.”

“I hope it’s not that, because there’s nothing we can do if it is,” Livia said.

“We can make them apologize,” Aderyn said.

“And humiliate Weston by letting his friends intervene to protect him from a bully?” Livia’s voice was bitter. “No. I won’t do that to him.”

Owen dropped onto his bedroll again and put his face in his hands. “It’s fine,” he said when Aderyn exclaimed. “But I feel like this is all my fault.”

“I told you, it’s not,” Livia said in some exasperation. “It’s probably mine. I pushed him too far.”

“No,” Aderyn said. “He loves bantering with you. I’m sure someone in the caravan said something to set him off. Once he comes to his senses, he’ll confront that person, and everything will be back to normal.”

The fire hissed, and Livia quickly yanked the pot off the flames before it could boil over more. “Let’s eat. There’s nothing more we can do tonight.”

Aderyn accepted a bowl of soup and ate, staring into the fire as she often did. Her whole body ached with nervous trepidation. If Weston left… but he wouldn’t leave, would he? He was part of the team, and teammates—friends—didn’t let arguments and anger divide them.

She hoped.

Isold and Weston hadn’t returned by full dark. Livia set the pot aside next to some bowls and spoons, saying, “They’ll have to eat eventually.” Aderyn lay on her bedroll and stared at the leafy canopy, which in the last light of the waning moon looked like nothing more than black outlines. Next to her, Owen breathed in the regular rhythm that said he wasn’t asleep either. She thought about talking to him, realized she really ought to sleep so she’d be alert for her watch, and rolled onto her side, facing the dying fire. When she finally fell asleep, it was to dreams of monsters tearing her team apart, only it wasn’t monsters, it was a dungeon in which they’d all become separated, and she heard her friends’ screams as one by one its living walls devoured them.

Someone shook her awake. It was Isold. “It’s time,” he said.

Aderyn sat up and pulled her boots on. “Where’s Weston?”

“Sleeping near the last wagon. He’ll be ready for his watch when you wake him.”

“And…?”

Isold’s dim shape moved as he shrugged. “He wouldn’t say what upset him. He just repeated that he was tired of being a fool. I’m afraid he might be thinking of leaving when we reach Ashenfell.”

Aderyn sucked in a breath. “He can’t. Isold, he just can’t.”

“He can, Aderyn. He’s a grown man and he makes his own decisions.”

“But leaving us for a stupid reason? No one thinks he’s ridiculous or a fool!”

“We’ve got a day to convince him otherwise. Take heart.” Isold stood and offered Aderyn a hand up. “I’m going to spread my bedroll somewhere congenial.”

Aderyn blushed. “I won’t ask which one you chose.”

“As I said, I’m not sure I have to make a choice.” Isold laughed and patted Aderyn’s shoulder. “Good night.”

Aderyn set out to find her watch partner. Tonight, it was Garet, which made her already tense nerves twang like a violin string. Garet, though, greeted her with a friendly wave and a smile that seemed to have no hidden meaning. “I’ve scouted a little ways to the east,” he said. “Shall we split up? Staying within earshot, of course.”

“That sounds good.” Her relief at not having to make small talk with someone she disliked eased some of her tension.

Then Garet said, “I saw your large friend storming off into the forest. Is he all right?”

“Sure,” Aderyn lied. “He just needed some time alone.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Nobody wants a team to fracture, especially not out in the Forsaken Lands.” Garet saluted her with another wave and moved off into the darkness. Aderyn went the other way.

It didn’t occur to her until her watch was nearly over to wonder how Garet could have seen Weston’s eruption. Their camp was on the far side of the caravan from Garet’s, and Aderyn hadn’t seen him anywhere near enough to have witnessed anything. It just went to show you couldn’t trust a Lightfingers to be honest about anything. If Garet had been sneaking around near their camp, it couldn’t have been for a good reason.

She checked in with Garet one more time, grateful for a peaceful watch. Then she set about finding Weston. He was sleeping beneath the last wagon, snoring the way he always did, and the sound comforted her almost to the point that she could forget his angry words. She knelt beside him and gently prodded his arm. “Weston. Time to watch.”

He came awake as completely and silently as he always did. “Aderyn. It feels earlier.”

“It’s time, I promise.”

“No, I get it. I just mean I didn’t sleep well. Give me a minute.”

Aderyn withdrew and waited. Eventually Weston crawled out from beneath the wagon with his boots on and his hair combed. He stretched, and said, “I wish I could always take this watch. I like rising early. There’s something about being the only person awake for miles that invigorates me.”

He sounded so much like his normal self Aderyn said, “Well, when we’re back to adventuring on our own, I’m sure we can manage that.”

“I don’t know if I’m staying. I think I’ll bow out when we reach Ashenfell.”

Aderyn breathed deeply to control the tremor in her throat. “Why? You know we need you. No one thinks—what you said. You’re not a fool.”

“I know. I was angry. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? What is so terrible you want to break up our team?” Aderyn demanded.

Weston didn’t answer. Aderyn was about to repeat her question when he finally said, “It’s just not who I am. I finally see that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t explain better than that. I’m sorry, Aderyn. I know I’m letting you all down. But I can’t do this anymore.” He walked away before Aderyn could respond.

Aderyn put a hand on the wagon to steady herself. He’d sounded so despairing, so hopeless, that she couldn’t do anything but weep for both of them.

Chapter Twelve

Aderyn found herself wishing, all the next day, for a monster attack that would force Weston to fight alongside the rest of them so he could see how much he was needed. But the road through the forest was clear of monsters, and by the time the tree growth thinned and Ashenfell was visible in the distance, she’d succeeded only in giving herself a headache from staring so hard into the depths of the forest.

Out of habit, she Assessed the city, not expecting anything, and wasn’t surprised when nothing happened. She could Assess dungeons, so she hoped that meant she would eventually be able to Assess cities as well. Though—what benefit could that provide? It wasn’t as if cities were inherently hostile the way dungeons were. Still, she liked having knowledge, even if she didn’t have an immediate use for it.

The thought of hostile dungeons reminded her of what Dashan had said about Winter’s Peril. She’d never heard of a living dungeon before, and the idea scared her. It was bad enough dungeons had monsters and traps; suppose some entity controlled those, directed them so they were extra dangerous? It was unworthy of her to let that frighten her, she knew, because adventurers didn’t let fear get in the way of a good fight, but some things were just unsettling.

Ashenfell sat at the center of a plain Aderyn was sure wasn’t natural, several miles across and completely free of trees. She suspected the forest had been cleared deliberately to remove any cover monsters might take advantage of. Ashenfell itself crouched behind its stone wall like a Stalwart daring someone to come at him. It was low and squat, with only a few tall buildings that drew the eye, but it looked more welcoming than Guerdon Deep, whose buildings were of the same stone as the mountain and were as angular and bleak as the mountain cliffs.

Remembering the fee to enter Guerdon Deep, Aderyn prepared to pay whatever coin was required. But it turned out the caravan paid a single fee, and Beyla and Artan covered it. Once all the wagons were within the gate, Aderyn hurried forward from her position at the rear to speak to Marrius. “I was wondering,” she said. “We’ve never been here before, and maybe you have. Is there a place you’d recommend for us to stay?”

“I have come this way a few times, yes,” Marrius replied. He climbed down from the wagon, holding his oxen’s reins so they wouldn’t wander off. “I’m going to the Seven Moons Inn, but if you’re saving money, that will be too costly. You might try the Inn of the Black Gables. It’s inexpensive, but comfortable, and the innkeeper has a soft spot for young adventurers.”

Aderyn was deeply grateful he hadn’t offered to pay their way at the more expensive inn. “That sounds perfect. Where is it?”

“The <Wayfinder> will take you there. Remember what I showed you. This is a good time for you to practice.” He winked and smiled.

“Of course! I guess I thought, it’s a valuable magic item, maybe it needs to be used only for important things. But that’s not true, is it?”

“You understand now.” Marrius patted her arm. “We have a few days’ rest here in town, and I have some sales to make. If you’re not doing anything else, would you like to earn a little experience and some coin working for me?”

That brought Aderyn back to earth, the reminder that she had a team and it was falling apart. “Maybe. I hope so. I’ll visit you tomorrow and we can talk, all right?”

After saying goodbye, she went in search of her team. She heard Isold’s voice coming from the musicians’ wagon and, blushing, hurried past. Owen and Livia were talking to Beyla. “We’ll plan on it,” Owen was saying as he shook Beyla’s hand. He and Livia joined Aderyn a short distance away.

“Beyla has some errands she’d like us to run. Small quests. I thought we might as well make good use of our time. If everyone’s okay with that,” Owen said.

Livia elbowed him in the ribs. “Stop that. We all know who our leader is. If Weston ever finds someone to pull his head out of his ass for him, he’d admit it, too.”

“He said it wasn’t about us,” Aderyn said. “He wouldn’t say more than that. Just that he couldn’t endure any longer.”

Owen let out a hiss of frustration. “If he won’t talk, we can’t solve this problem. Where is he?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Livia said with an air that said she cared very much.

“Come on, Livia, don’t—” Aderyn began.

“All right, it’s not true. I’m worried. But it is true that I haven’t seen him since midday, and then he avoided me.” Livia sniffed haughtily. “He probably feels guilty and doesn’t want to face me, not after what he said.”

Aderyn, watching Livia closely, saw her lips were trembling. “Let’s go find lodgings,” she said. “My grandfather gave me a recommendation.”

“But how is Weston going to find us?” Livia said. “He won’t know where we’ve gone.”

“He’s a Moonlighter,” Owen said. “He can find us anywhere. He might even beat us to the inn. Is Isold—”

“Isold is here,” Isold said from behind Aderyn. “Do we have a place to stay?”

“We will. Unless you have somewhere else you want to be?” Owen said with an arch smile.

“Romance on the road is all very well, but I never forget who my true companions are,” Isold said cheerfully. “Besides, I could use a rest. My dear ladies are insatiable.” He grinned at Aderyn’s blush.

To overcome her embarrassment, she held the <Wayfinder> cradled in her hands the way Marrius had showed her, with the large spike pointed directly away from her body. She relaxed her shoulders, her arms, her hands, until the <Wayfinder> felt it weighed three times what it did. She ran her thumbs over the row of spikes pointing upward. And she let the words Inn of the Black Gables flow through her, from the top of her head down her neck, across her shoulders and down her arms and into the <Wayfinder>.

The rings spun, and the faintest pink glow suffused the spike. Aderyn turned slowly right, and the glow faded; turned left, and soon the spike turned warm red as she faced a narrow street that looked like all the others. She hoped the <Wayfinder> understood about streets and corners, because if it pointed a straight line to her heart’s desire, this could get complicated.

But it turned out to be reasonably straightforward to follow the <Wayfinder’s> directions, and in twenty minutes, they reached their destination. The Inn of the Black Gables was in a slightly seedy part of Ashenfell, where the cobblestone streets were dirty and in some disrepair and the houses’ whitewashing peeled. It also didn’t have any gables, black or otherwise. But the street was quiet, and when the team presented itself, the owner, a large man named Sinclus, smiled enormously and opened his arms to embrace them.

“You have come a long way! Let us find you rooms, and dinner is in an hour—welcome, welcome! Oh, young man, you remind me of another young adventurer who stayed here, years ago,” he told Owen. “Such a bold young man—a Stalwart like me, not a Swordsworn—claimed he was the Fated One, and maybe he was, but he left and I never heard anything more of the matter.” Sinclus guided them all to the stairs. “Two rooms? Four? We’re between seasons, nobody yet come north for the summer and the northern reaches busy with questers before the snowy weather hits.”

“There are five of us,” Owen said. “We’re expecting our companion soon. And we don’t have a lot of money to spend, so we’ll need to share.”

“Oh, my rates are discounted for people I like, and I like you all very much!” He lightly pinched Aderyn’s cheek in a friendly-uncle way. “Ten silver a night per room, how does that sound?”

“I won’t argue with a good deal,” Owen said with a smile.

Aderyn’s room was very small, but the bed was clean, the mattress comfortable, and the water pitcher on the washstand free of insects due to the magic rods inserted above and below the window that generated a bug-repellent field. She stowed her knapsack beneath the bed, washed her face and hands, and hurried downstairs, following her nose to the scent of roast chicken.

She was first to the table, and for a moment she sat and enjoyed the warmth and closeness of the taproom, which was otherwise unoccupied. No fire was lit in the giant fireplace that spanned one whole wall, and Aderyn couldn’t imagine this cozy room, with its low ceiling and many small tables packed close together, ever needing a fire for warmth no matter how deep the winter got. She ran a thumbnail along the grain of the tabletop; it was a dark contrast to the light color of the wood, as if someone had filled the crevices with black paint. She liked the effect, which made her think of woodcut illustrations in her favorite children’s books.

Footsteps sounded, and Isold and Livia entered. “Still no Weston?” Livia said.

Aderyn shook her head. “He’ll be here soon. I know it.”

Livia smiled as if she believed Aderyn’s blatant falsehood. Aderyn tried to think of it as hopeful optimism instead.

Just as Isold and Livia seated themselves, Owen came in and drew out a chair next to Aderyn. “I haven’t seen him,” he said without preamble.

“Let’s eat,” Isold said. “Weston would never miss a good meal. Maybe the roast chicken I smell will act like a summoning ritual.”

“Like, for demons? Oh, I hope not!” Aderyn said.

“I guess people can’t be summoned that way,” Owen said.

“How fortunate they can’t,” Isold said. “Imagine if you could be dragged away from your dinner at someone else’s whim.”

The swinging door to the inn’s kitchen banged open, and a teenage boy carrying an enormous serving tray backed through. He carried the tray to their table and set it down, revealing two roast chickens that smelled deliciously of sage and rosemary, a bowl of potatoes mashed in their ruddy skins, and a platter of asparagus drenched in melted white cheese. “It’s the last of the asparagus, so eat hearty, Dad says.”

“Is Sinclus your father?” Aderyn asked.

“He is. He lets me work here to earn money so when I get my Call, I’ll have plenty saved up to pay for my travels.” The boy swiftly moved plates and platters to the table and lifted the tray again. “You’re a team, right? I hope I get a great team like you have.”

An awkward silence fell, broken by Owen saying, “I hope you do, too. What class are you hoping for?”

“Oh, I want to be a Moonlighter,” the boy exclaimed. “Dad says if I work hard at moving quietly and spotting things, it’s a sure bet. What class are you? Is it what you wanted?”

“I’m a Swordsworn, and I didn’t have a class I wanted in particular,” Owen said. “We have a friend who’s a Moonlighter, and he’s very stealthy and good at seeing things others don’t notice. I hope you get your wish.”

“Thanks!” The boy hurried away.

No one moved to serve the chicken or vegetables. Finally, Aderyn said, “He won’t leave. He just can’t.”

“Maybe he already has,” Livia said bitterly. “He’s not here now, is he?”

“He’s still on the heads-up display,” Owen said, gesturing. “There’s still hope.”

“We should eat,” Isold said. “There’s no point going hungry waiting, not if—” He fell silent.

Owen drew his belt knife and began to carve the nearest chicken. “Aderyn, you like the breast meat, right? Isold, do you want a drumstick?”

The door banged open, startling Owen into dropping his knife. Weston stood in the doorway, his chest heaving as if he’d run far enough to make even him winded. No one spoke. Aderyn noticed Livia’s hand curling into a fist that she then dropped to her lap.

Finally, Owen said, “Weston—”

Weston made a sharp gesture that shut Owen up. All his attention was on Livia. “I didn’t know,” Weston said. “I thought it was all in fun. You’re an Earthbreaker, I’m a Moonlighter. I love mornings and you only ever see the sunrise from the wrong side. Earth and air, total opposites. So I didn’t think—” He drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t realize what it meant that I can’t wait to see you slouch out of bed in the mornings, grumbling about coffee. I didn’t know why I’d rather trade insults with you than be civil to anyone else.”

Livia’s mouth hung open. Weston lowered his head so he wasn’t looking at anyone. “I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he continued. “I thought—no, it doesn’t matter. I was rude to you because I’m a buffoon and a light-hearted scoundrel and there’s no way you are ever going to fall in love with me the way I’ve fallen for you.”

Aderyn gasped. She realized she was clutching Owen’s hand so tightly she couldn’t feel her fingers.

Livia rose, shoving her chair back. Weston still didn’t look up. She pushed the empty chair between them—the one, Aderyn realized, she’d been saving for him—closer to Weston and then stood on it so her face was just higher than his. “You great lummox,” she said, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.

Weston’s eyes flew open, and automatically his arms went around Livia to steady them both. Aderyn realized she was holding her breath and let it out in a great rush of air. She let go of Owen and surreptitiously flexed feeling back into her fingers. Livia’s arms shifted so she was holding Weston close, and she kissed him again, and this time he returned her kiss. Aderyn watched in joyful happiness until she realized by the way Owen was pretending not to stare that she ought to give them privacy. Though, really, if they wanted privacy, they shouldn’t kiss in the middle of the taproom.

Finally, Owen cleared his throat, and Weston and Livia broke apart, both of them smiling foolishly. “I was stupid,” Weston said to the table at large, “and I shouldn’t have treated you all so badly. Please accept my apology.”

“Of course,” Owen said. “I’m sorry I gave you more pain, too.”

Aderyn wasn’t sure what to make of that. She understood even less Weston’s response, “I was mistaken, that’s all, but I should have had the decency to ask for answers rather than jumping to conclusions. Can we let it go?”

“Absolutely,” Owen said. “You want to eat?”

Weston and Livia exchanged another of those heartfelt, sentimental glances. “I think we have a lot to talk about,” Livia said, “and watching people in love moon about after one another is boring. We’ll get something elsewhere. Don’t wait up.” Hand in hand, they left the taproom.

Chapter Thirteen

When Weston and Livia were gone, Aderyn said, “That was heartbreak, not anger. I had no idea.”

“People react in different ways, when it comes to romance,” Isold said. He was eating rapidly, like he had somewhere else to be.

“Well, I hope I would never behave like that just because I was in love,” Aderyn declared.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Owen said. “Isold, are you leaving?”

“I think I will track down my ladies, after all. Love is in the air.” Isold grinned and was gone.

Aderyn watched the door swing shut on him. “That was unexpected. And beautiful.”

“I hope it’s not going to be a problem later,” Owen said.

“Why would it be a problem?”

Owen shrugged and picked up his knife to carve a piece of chicken for her. “Their feelings might not last, and how awkward would that be later?”

Aderyn’s mouth fell open. “That’s not going to happen.”

“No, probably not. I think what they have is real and lasting, given how long they’ve been flirting via insults.” He carved more meat away from the bone. “I’m glad for them.”

“Me too.” Aderyn sighed happily. “That was so beautiful, what he said. Those declarations of love are wonderful, don’t you think?”

“It’s not really something I’m familiar with,” Owen said.

“What, that’s not how men express their feelings for the women they love where you come from?” That struck Aderyn as absurd. Every woman loved being the focus of her sweetheart’s passion, and how better to express that than with a heartfelt speech of love?

“Maybe in romance novels and movies. Not in real life.” Owen continued cutting meat, paying close attention to his work.

“Well, that’s just sad. Or—I’m sorry, maybe you meant you’ve never had a sweetheart.” Maybe Owen did care about her, and he didn’t know how to show it because it was his first time falling in love, too.

“I’ve had a few girlfriends, sure.”

Girlfriends. He’d used this foreign word before, and she’d assumed he meant friends who were female, but this sounded like it was a different word for sweetheart. “And you didn’t tell them how much you loved them? You didn’t express how your feelings swept you away?”

Owen chuckled and served himself vegetables. “Maybe I didn’t feel that close to any of them.”

Aderyn realized he hadn’t looked directly at her since Isold had left, and embarrassment struck her. This conversation was making Owen uncomfortable, though she didn’t know why, and she needed to shut up. But his words kept throwing her into confusion. “You were sweethearts, but you weren’t in love?”

“That is possible, Aderyn. Do you want some asparagus?”

She held her plate so he could serve her. “I don’t think I could do that. When I fall in love, I want it to be like Weston and Livia. I want someone to tell me he can’t bear to be without me.”

Owen nodded. “So, you’ve spent your life hoping for that romantic declaration, right?”

Aderyn’s annoyance rose. “You make it sound like a ridiculous wish.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, that’s how you want someone to say he loves you, is that right?”

“Of course.” Now she felt awkward. She’d never told this to anyone, but Owen was her partner, and she told him everything. “I guess it does sound ridiculous when I say it out loud.”

“It’s not ridiculous. It just seems a little hard on the man. Those romantic speeches can sound corny.”

“What’s corny mean?”

“Like… overly sentimental. Not authentic. Not heartfelt. Insincere, maybe.”

That had never occurred to Aderyn. “I always thought, if the feeling was there, the words naturally followed.”

“Not every man is good at romantic talk. Isold, for one. And he does all right.” Owen grinned. “Better than all right. Damn, but that man has stamina.”

Aderyn giggled. “I can’t imagine how he does it. Enjoys the company of so many women. He doesn’t want to fall in love with just one person.”

“He’s not typical. I think most of us are searching for the one special person to settle down and grow old with.”

“I know I am.” Now she felt awkward for a different reason. Here they were, alone, talking of romantic things, and Owen didn’t seem at all inspired to burst out with a declaration of love. Which meant she was a fool, and she needed to learn to fall out of love with her partner. Soon.

Owen pushed his plate aside. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long and emotionally exhausting day. Did you say you had some potential quests for us?”

“Yes. Marrius needs some things done. It’s probably not much, but anything helps, especially if it earns us money and experience, right?”

“Exactly my thought. Good night, Aderyn.” He left the taproom, and Aderyn again watched the door swing shut. She remembered how Weston and Livia had looked, how stunned and excited and happy they’d been. She remembered Isold’s knowing smile. True, she had many years ahead in which to find romance, but with all her companions finding it now, she couldn’t help but feel left out. Especially since the one she wanted didn’t want her.

ADERYN WOKE early the next morning, as she usually did the first day in an unfamiliar place. It was the way the light came through the window, always unexpected in how it fell across the wall and the bed. She considered going back to sleep, but rolling over just revealed that she was, in fact, fully awake, and sleep wasn’t going to happen. She dressed and brushed her hair, then left her room in search of breakfast. The smells of coffee and ham and grilled tomatoes told her it was available, and she walked faster.

When she was halfway down the stairs and in view of the inn’s entrance, the door to the taproom swung open, and Weston appeared. He held a steaming pot of coffee and a large ceramic mug. When he saw Aderyn, he smiled in a self-conscious way. “I thought this would be a nice way for her to wake up, have coffee brought to her,” he said.

“That’s really sweet of you.”

“Well, and I have this ongoing desire not to have my head ripped from my body.” Weston grinned more widely.

Aderyn raised her eyebrows. “You think she’s likely to do that, ever again? After the two of you… you did spend the night together, right?”

“Livia is my heart’s desire, and I’m eternally stunned that she loves me, but I doubt love has altered her basic personality,” Weston said, “and her basic personality will never be a morning person. It’s something I love about her.”

“That’s so wise.” Aderyn stepped aside to let him pass. “I’m so glad everything is all right now.” She decided not to say anything more. It was true, she had hated seeing him angry and miserable, but they didn’t need reminders of yesterday’s unhappiness.

“Do you know what the plan is for today?” Weston added.

“I don’t. We have the possibility of some quests, small ones, errand running for Marrius and Beyla.”

“I hope that’s all it is,” Weston said.

“What does that mean?”

“Just that there’s still a possibility of us stumbling into secret quests or an unexpected monster fight, thanks to the Fated One thing. I would hate for us to be delayed here because something stalled us.”

“That hadn’t occurred to me.” Aderyn felt an unexpected chill. Things had gone so smoothly since leaving Guerdon Deep… except there had been the chaos worms, and suppose they had been drawn to the caravan because Owen was the Fated One? “I hope these errands are boring. And lucrative.”

“Money is always welcome.” Weston nodded and disappeared around the bend in the stairs.

Only a few people were in the taproom when Aderyn entered, no one she knew. She ate scrambled eggs with chunks of ham and potato and cheese and was about halfway finished when Owen appeared. “Isold didn’t come back last night,” he said, dropping into the chair next to Aderyn’s.

“I didn’t think we expected him to.”

“No, but I want us to get an early start on Beyla’s tasks. She’s paying us to deliver goods throughout the city—not a quest, I don’t think, but we can use the money.” Owen accepted his own plate of eggs and dug in.

“Well, Weston was going to wake Livia—they spent the night together! Isn’t that romantic?”

“Sounds like a potential headache, if we now need three rooms instead of two.” Owen scowled and forked up eggs as if they were his worst enemy.

“Oh, come on. They’re happy. One extra room isn’t going to cost us that much more. Besides, it’s not like they have to share if we can’t afford it. They’re sensible.” Aderyn examined Owen and noted his bleary, dark-rimmed eyes and how he hunched over his food like he ached. “Are you feeling all right? You look like you’re coming down with something.”

“I’m fine. Restless night.” He straightened as the door opened and Isold entered. “Finally. I hope your night was worth it.”

Isold raised one eyebrow. “I hope Weston’s earlier mood hasn’t transferred itself to you.”

Owen squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. No, I’m not angry, and I’m not going to let my irritation from being unable to sleep spill over onto you. Did you eat?”

“I did, and at the risk of sounding smug, I didn’t sleep much, either.”

“Isold!” Aderyn laughed.

“And now everyone’s here,” Weston said as he pushed the door open. Livia followed close behind him. “I could use about two plates of that stuff.”

“Of course you could,” Livia said. “But I want to know what we’re doing today.”

“Then sit, and we’ll talk.” Owen waved a hand at the other chairs. “Beyla asked us to meet at her inn, the Seven Moons Inn—”

“Oh, that’s where my grandfather is staying, too,” Aderyn exclaimed.

“That’s convenient. Anyway, once everyone’s ready, we’ll meet her there. Most of her larger goods are picked up by their purchasers, but she also deals in smaller, luxury items that need more careful handling. We’ll be delivering those. It’s not a quest, not as far as I know, but she’ll pay well, and we could use the money.”

Weston was halfway through his first plate. “And Marrius has work for us as well?”

“He didn’t say what, but I’m sure it’s something similar,” Aderyn said. “We might get to know Ashenfell really well.”

“That <Wayfinder> will come in handy,” Livia said. “So, we’ve got a dull but lucrative day ahead of us.”

“That’s how it looks,” Owen said. “Dull sounds restful.”

“And I’ll never say no to lucrative,” Weston added.

Chapter Fourteen

Aderyn and Owen raced down the cobblestone street, pursued by the sound of furious barking. [Keep Pace] was working hard, Aderyn knew, because her legs were long streaks of pain and yet she kept running at Owen’s side.

“This is not what I had in mind for today,” she panted.

“Don’t talk, run,” Owen replied, equally breathlessly.

They rounded a corner onto a broader street where they caromed off protesting passersby until they couldn’t hear the barking anymore. Aderyn stopped and leaned against a wall, pressing a hand to the stitch in her side. “That’s not fair,” she said. “What happened to dull but lucrative?”

“Maybe the others aren’t having these problems,” Owen gasped. He bent over and put his hands on his knees.

“Almost certainly not. I think this is the system testing the Fated One.” Aderyn spoke quietly, though no one was paying them any attention despite how ridiculous they looked.

“That can’t be true,” Owen said.

Aderyn turned her gaze on him. “We delivered a package to a woman who invited us in for cake, and she turned out to be a serial poisoner we captured and turned over to the magistrates. I’m still not sure how you guessed the cake was dangerous.”

“I had a feeling the cake was a lie. Still—”

Aderyn held up a quelling finger. “Then we stopped to help a lost child find her way back to her father, and she turned out to be the only heir to the wealthiest family in Ashenfell. Who gave us one hundred gold as a reward.” She patted her <Purse of Great Capacity>, which looked as flat and empty as always.

“All right, that was an unexpected—”

“And then we walked in on that robbery at the bookseller’s, defeating three Brigands, and the store owner gave us each a <Book of Insight> that will increase our [Awareness] skills by two. Those are worth at least twenty gold apiece.”

Owen gave up. “Fine. Yes. Those were all secret quests. But the dogs were just coincidence.”

“Not everything is about the Fated One. Sometimes dogs are just dogs. We couldn’t have known the owner wasn’t home to receive his goods, and that he leaves his dogs free to attack anyone who tries to enter his house.”

A system message appeared:

You have earned [50 XP] for avoiding [Vicious Dog Trap].

Owen and Aderyn stared at each other. Then they burst out laughing. “I wonder what the others think,” Owen said. “They must have been so surprised when the quest completion notices started popping up.”

“Let’s head back and find out. It’s almost dinnertime.”

They strolled together through Ashenfell, not speaking. Now that she wasn’t running for her life or concentrating on the <Wayfinder>, Aderyn could appreciate how pretty Ashenfell was. All the houses were painted in bright colors, and wooden scrollwork decorated the angles of the steep roofs. Aderyn was used to thatch, but these roofs had slate tiles in gray or dusty green or dark blue, and they were attractive in their own way.

She stole a glance at Owen, who was scanning the crowds as alertly as a Moonlighter. A pang of longing struck her at the sight of his clean profile, the way he held his head, the hint of golden stubble along his jawline. For the first time, it occurred to her that maybe waiting for him to speak was the wrong approach. Sure, everything she’d ever known about romance said it was the man’s job to speak first, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t. And if she cared about him—if she loved him—wasn’t it stupid for her to wait, and wait, and maybe never get her heart’s desire?

“Owen,” she began.

At the same moment, Owen said, “There’s Weston. Looks like he’s just getting back.” He glanced her way. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

Aderyn’s nerve failed her. “No. Just—there’s Weston.”

They followed Weston indoors and up to the fourth floor of the Seven Moons Inn. When they knocked on Beyla and Artan’s door, Isold and Livia were already there. Beyla greeted Owen with a hearty slap on the back. “Nice work, all of you. That’s most of my deliveries done. Very fast.”

She opened a coffer as big across as Weston’s chest and pulled out a sack that clinked. “Here you are, as agreed. One gold per delivery, seventeen deliveries—and let’s make it an even twenty, as a bonus for your fast work. Thanks again.”

Aderyn put the money into her purse as Owen shook hands with Beyla. “We were happy to help.”

“I have to say, I much prefer working with you than those other fellows,” Beyla said with a grimace. “They’re nice enough, but it’s clear they think we’re beneath them. Never mind that traveling with our caravan protects them as much as they protect us—and you all were the ones who killed the chaos worms. I haven’t forgotten.” She nodded politely to each companion in turn.

Outside, in the hall, Weston said, “What in thunder did the two of you get up to today? We nearly abandoned our deliveries to find you. Three secret quests?”

“It was an interesting day,” Owen said. “Let’s talk to Marrius, and then Aderyn and I will share the stories of our heroic exploits.”

“There was a poisoned cake. That wasn’t heroic,” Aderyn said.

Marrius’s room was on the second floor, where, as he’d told them, the suites all were. Aderyn didn’t know what a suite was, but from observing Marrius’s room when she entered, she guessed it meant the combination of bedchamber, small sitting room, and nook for a round dining table and two chairs. The walls were hung with vibrantly-colored tapestries that looked like waterfalls and sunsets and purply-black midnight skies, and rugs completed the impression of a cozy, private space.

Marrius gestured to them all to find seats while he himself took one of the dining chairs and settled it opposite them. “Did you have any troubles with the deliveries?”

Owen and Aderyn glanced at each other. Aderyn thought of poisoned cakes and lost children and Brigands and dogs. “Nothing difficult,” she said. She emptied the <Purse of Great Capacity> on the table and sorted the payments she’d received for the deliveries from her own money. Three little velvet bags that didn’t feel like they contained coin.

Owen handed over the final package. “This person wasn’t home, sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’ll send a runner to summon him here tomorrow. He’s got a pack of dogs that might as well be feral—oh, you met them? Sorry, I thought he’d be there to take delivery, so I forgot to mention the dogs.” Marrius set the package on the floor and accepted the three little bags. “You want to see something beautiful?”

The five companions leaned forward as Marrius opened the first bag and shook its contents into his palm. Aderyn gasped. Weston stilled so completely he might have frozen in place. An oval ruby the size of a hen’s egg, faceted so perfectly it caught the light whichever way it turned, shone like a pool of fresh blood in Marrius’s hand.

“I take payment in gems when I can,” Marrius said. “I get a better exchange rate in the southern cities and in Obsidian, where they use a different currency. And some gems go back into my creations.” He put the ruby away and displayed, next, a handful of diamonds like rainbow-flecked ice, then a mixed collection of yellow and blue sapphires the size of Aderyn’s pinky nail.

“Those are exquisite,” Weston said.

Livia put a hand on his knee. “Don’t forget to breathe, sweetheart,” she said.

Marrius chuckled. “I promised a percentage of the value of the deliveries. Sixty gold.” He handed a larger pouch to Aderyn, who put it away in her purse as she gathered the rest of the money.

“That should make us comfortable for a while,” Owen said. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you for sparing these old bones the trip all over Ashenfell,” Marrius said with a wink. “Those were my more difficult customers, who prefer to remain anonymous purchasers. Though Ansien can blame his dogs for forcing him to come to me this time.” He rose, and added, “Let me buy you dinner. I’d like to get to know my granddaughter’s friends better.”

Aderyn saw he was looking at Owen, and she blushed and hoped no one noticed. “That would be wonderful,” she said.

TWO MORNINGS LATER, Aderyn waited at the Ashenfell city gate with her friends as the caravan prepared to leave. She hadn’t seen Cadia or her teammates the whole time they’d been in the city, and part of her hoped Cadia had decided to go off on her own. The past two days had been so nice, without a bunch of smug level twelve adventurers lording it over Aderyn’s companions. No, that was unfair. Aderyn liked Dashan, and Talandra wasn’t awful, and traveling on their own was dangerous even to mid-level adventurers. Aderyn didn’t like Cadia, but she didn’t wish her harm.

Her knapsack had been augmented by warmer clothes, heavy twilled trousers and a wool shirt and, bundled atop the lot, a quilted coat that hung to her knees and had a fur-lined hood. The shopkeeper had assured her she would appreciate it when she reached Elkenforest and Finion’s Gate, but Aderyn wasn’t convinced. Still, at worst she wouldn’t wear it, and suppose someday they went farther north still?

Owen let out a hiss of annoyance. “There they are. I hoped something made them change their minds.”

Aderyn followed his gaze to where Cadia and the others were approaching. “You didn’t. Besides, the caravan needs their defense.”

“I sort of did,” Owen said. “Not seriously, no, but they’re a low-grade annoyance I wish I could avoid.”

“I understand.”

Cadia greeted them with a pleasant smile. “I see you’re outfitted for the north. Of course, it’s not going to be as cold as it will be come winter, but Finion’s Gate is usually nippy, and it’s good to be prepared.”

“I agree.” Owen smiled back. “I hope your time here was productive.”

“We used the time to relax and rejuvenate. It’s important to have downtime between challenges. Keeps you fresh.” Cadia’s smile became a smirk. Owen’s hand closed into a loose fist.

“That’s certainly one perspective,” he said without a hint of anger. “Would your team like to walk point today?”

Cadia’s smile faltered, and her eyes grew cold. “If you like.”

Owen nodded and walked away. Aderyn followed. When they were out of earshot, she said, “Are you sure it’s a good idea to antagonize her before we’ve even left the city? Implying that you get to decide how the caravan’s defense should go?”

Owen sighed. “Probably not. It just felt so good, Aderyn. And… I shouldn’t give in to my baser impulses. I’m sorry.”

“I know. Let her have her moment. We’ll need to take control soon enough.”

Owen stopped. “What do you mean?”

She’d spoken without thinking, and now she considered her words and the instincts behind them. “It’s like what happened with the chaos worms. Cadia can lead, but when it’s a conflict between her orders and what we know is right, we have to do things our way. So we’re not really letting her be in charge, but we can’t afford a power struggle. That means giving way when it’s not important so we can lead when it is.”

“That’s insightful. More Warmaster knowledge?”

“I don’t think so. Good common sense. It’s something my father always says—humor your rival into underestimating you. Then your attack will come when he doesn’t expect it and can’t guard against it.”

“Your father is a very wise man.” Owen started walking again, heading for the last wagon in line. All around them, oxen turned ponderously in their traces as their drivers moved them into position. “Would he have any other advice on dealing with antagonistic adventurers five levels higher than us?”

Aderyn considered this. “How about ‘Don’t’?”

“Less helpful, but still wise,” Owen said.

NORTH OF ASHENFELL, the forest gradually changed from oaks and maples to tall, narrow pines that filled the air with their sharp scent. For three days, uneventful travel had Aderyn thinking the rumors of the dangers of the Forsaken Lands were, at least in this part of the world, exaggerated. The air was crisp and cool except at midday, no monsters attacked, and Cadia and her team treated Aderyn and her companions with distant but apparently sincere respect.

When Aderyn wasn’t walking with Owen, she shared a guard position with Dashan, whose friendliness continued to increase until she felt nearly as comfortable around him as she did her friends. They shared stories of their adventures, and Aderyn thrilled to his tales of traveling the southern reaches on the edges of the areas too dangerous for anyone to go, even level twenty adventurers.

“We even saw dragons,” Dashan said on the afternoon of the third day. “From a safe distance. Not the little drakes or the juveniles, but the ancient terrors. It’s hard to imagine there was a time when adventurers killed them.”

“I love stories about dragons,” Aderyn said. “Do you think it’s true that they have human intelligence?”

“No idea.” Dashan shrugged. “Probably not, since all the intelligent monsters we know of have only the barest ability to reason. If dragons were that intelligent, they’d leave the high-level areas in order to terrorize humans, since they’d know we’re not powerful enough to fight back.”

“That makes sense. Can you imagine the kind of treasure they have? I’ve heard sometimes groups of adventurers go into the dangerous areas after dragon hoards. Of course, I’ve never heard of any of them returning.”

“Heh. Yes. I think those might be horror stories, myself.”

“I agree. They’re exactly perfect because they’re so plausible.” Aderyn tilted her head back and examined the treetops. Her memories of arboreal monsters, bat-kin and the terrible leathery cave bladders, prompted her to check the sky on occasion.

“But that’s not what you’re going north to find out about. Dragons, I mean. You’re looking for level-appropriate quests.”

“That’s right.” Aderyn felt only the smallest twinge at lying to Dashan. She trusted him, and under other circumstances she might have asked her team’s permission to tell him the truth, but Dashan was still loyal to Cadia, and Aderyn didn’t trust her one bit. “In the Repository.” She hadn’t felt bad about telling him that, especially when it turned out he’d heard of the place.

“The Repository is strange,” Dashan said. “I’ve known three adventurers who attempted it. One of them said the guardians turned her away without hearing her request. The other two couldn’t agree on how it worked. They only thing they did agree on was that finding information in the Repository took days.”

“Because it’s big?”

Dashan shrugged again. “No idea. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

“It’s fine. We already knew it would be difficult. We plan to worry about it when we get there.” She wasn’t as relaxed about the Repository as she sounded. The more she learned about it, the more nervous she got. She reminded herself, again, that there was no point being anxious about the future. Eventually they’d get there, and they’d discover which of the rumors, if any, were true.

Chapter Fifteen

Aderyn was about to ask Dashan another question about the Repository when she saw Owen approaching. She told herself to ignore the funny little skip to her heartbeat that happened whenever he was near.

Owen was jogging and looked like he had something on his mind. “We’re approaching a patch of odd terrain,” he said when he was near enough not to shout. “Cadia says it could mean concealed monsters.”

“What kind of terrain?” Dashan asked.

“Weston scouted ahead. He says the ground looks mushy. Not muddy, but like a saturated sponge, was his description.” Owen turned to look back toward the head of the line as if he could see the mushy ground from here. “And the trees are sagging, like the bark is dripping off them.”

“Ew,” Aderyn said. “What kind of monsters might live there?”

“Well, either there’s one or two monsters that made the place what it is,” Owen said, “or there are a lot of smaller monsters who found the changed terrain comfortable and settled in. Either way, we’re looking for burrowing things—”

Aderyn made another face, thinking of the chaos worms.

“Or things living in the trees, or maybe the trees themselves,” Owen concluded. “We have to stay alert. It’s still possible whatever did this moved on long ago, but that’s not a safe assumption to rely on. Aderyn, I need you to stay close to me, just in case. Talandra is coming back to join you, Dashan.”

Dashan looked skeptical. “She followed your orders?”

Owen’s face was carefully blank. “It was Cadia’s decision. Aderyn, you and I are watching the west side.” Without another word, he jogged back the way he’d come. Aderyn swiftly caught up with him.

“Do you—” she began, then fell silent as Talandra passed them going the other way. “Do you think there’s serious danger?”

“I don’t know. We have to behave as if there is. Weston looked deeply unsettled when he came back, and you know he never takes anything seriously unless it is.”

“I don’t like not knowing.”

“Neither do I, but in half an hour, we’ll know something.”

Aderyn watched their surroundings carefully and began seeing hints of decay after about twenty minutes. The forest floor was covered with small bushes and broad-leaved plants and bushy ferns, but now those plants were more gray than green, and they sagged limply as if something had drained their vitality. After half an hour, the tree trunks started to look the same. The bark seemed to be sliding off the underlying wood, which looked wet and mushy just as Weston had said. Aderyn felt no desire to touch the punky wood, though it would probably squish if she did.

After another five minutes, she realized the birds had gone silent. “I haven’t seen a single squirrel,” she whispered. “They were all over the place before.”

“Why are you whispering?”

Aderyn cleared her throat self-consciously. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t want to draw the attention of whatever lives here. It’s probably stupid.”

“Not stupid, but the caravan makes so much noise anything you say won’t make a difference.” Owen was scanning the treetops. He froze. “Look at that.”

Aderyn looked where he pointed. Something long and thin moved through the pine branches, too concealed by the thick needles to be fully visible. “What is it?”

Owen shook his head. “It’s not approaching. Let’s keep an eye on it—as much as we can—but I think it’s leaving.”

Aderyn grabbed Owen’s arm. “There’s another one. Lower down. And another.” She tried Assessing the creatures, but too little of them could be seen.

Cries from ahead told them someone else had seen the creatures. They didn’t have the fearful or determined edge that would mean the things were attacking. “Maybe—” Owen said.

“Wait.” Aderyn finally saw enough of one for [Improved Assess 1].

Name: Whip Vine

Type: Plant

Power Level: 2

Whip vines are arboreal and travel by whipping their vine-like bodies from branch to branch. They feed on birds and small mammals.

“They’re harmless,” she shouted. “They won’t attack us. Just ignore them.”

“That’s a relief,” Owen said. “I can’t tell you how sick I am of tree-climbing monsters.”

Movement about ten feet away startled Aderyn. The bark of one of the trees had slid down its trunk like mud oozing down a slope. Aderyn made herself calm down. It was gross, but—

In the next instant, the oozing bark flowed rapidly from the trunk to the path and up the legs of the nearest ox. The ox went mad, stomping and twisting in the traces and letting out deep mournful cries of distress. “Go, go!” Owen shouted, sprinting for the ox and drawing his sword. Aderyn followed more slowly, trying not to trip as she Assessed it.

Name: Slime Ooze

Type: Formless

Power Level: 4

Slime oozes dissolve their prey with the acidic contents of their mucous sac. They are immune to weapon damage and can only be destroyed with an elemental attack, of which fire is the most effective.

“Don’t hit it, Owen!” Aderyn shouted. “Weapons can’t hurt it! We need Livia or Cadia!”

“I can’t not do something,” Owen shouted back. “Go get help!”

Aderyn raced for the front of the caravan only to discover more slime oozes had attacked the oxen. The smell of burning flesh and cool wet earth filled the air. Cadia’s hands were wreathed in fire, and she shot blast after blast of flame at the oozes, not bothering to avoid the oxen. Livia’s mudball soared past, enveloping an ox in wet earth that dripped and slid over the ooze clinging to it. A moment later, a fireball struck the ooze, making the ox squeal.

“Livia! Help!” Aderyn shouted.

Livia ran toward her. “I’m not sure the mudball does anything but put the ox out of its misery,” she said as they hurtled toward where Owen waited.

“We have to try,” Aderyn said.

The ox had fallen to its knees and continued to cry out. Owen and the wagon driver had cut the traces and led the other ox away, out of reach of the ooze. Livia chanted, and mudball struck the ooze, engulfing it. It stopped moving, though the ox still moaned. Owen approached it cautiously. In one hand, he held a broken-off sapling he used to poke the ooze. Nothing happened. He poked harder. A gout of liquid that smelled pungent, like acid, spewed from the hole he’d made. The muddy mass sagged and peeled away from the ox’s legs and flanks.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Slime Ooze].

You have earned [250 XP]

Aderyn covered her mouth to keep from vomiting. The ooze had eaten away the ox’s skin and flesh, down to the bone in places. Owen looked grim. The wagon driver looked grimmer.

“It’ll have to be put down,” the driver said. “Unless you have some healing magic.”

“I’ll find Isold,” Aderyn said. She didn’t think the wand Isold carried was up to this challenge, but she’d seen the look in the driver’s eye. They had to at least try.

She found Isold standing near another of the downed oxen, talking to Cadia. Aderyn slowed as she approached them. Isold sounded angrier than she’d ever heard him, and Isold was never angry. It frightened her.

Cadia, on the other hand, spoke with that annoying smug certainty that made Aderyn wish she’d jump down a deep hole headfirst. “We can’t use valuable resources that way,” she was saying. “Suppose we use up a <Healing Stone> charge on the animal, and later it means the difference between life and death for a human?”

“This is not about healing an animal versus a human,” Isold said, his voice tight, his words clipped. “These wagons will travel more slowly without a full team of oxen to pull them. That will delay our arrival in Elkenforest and mean we will be two or three days longer on the road. Mistress Beyla assures me we do not have sufficient supplies for an extended journey. We have to heal these oxen. My wand isn’t strong enough. You are the one who has the power.”

Aderyn’s heart sank. Isold’s language became more elevated when he was talking to someone he thought was a fool. His logic was sound, and Cadia would ignore it, and they were all likely to suffer and possibly die.

“Cadia,” she said.

“Not now,” Cadia told her. “Beyla exaggerates the danger. I’ve seen wagons bigger than this pulled by a single ox.”

“I did not say it was impossible for one ox to pull a wagon,” Isold said coldly. “I said it would slow us, possibly fatally. You can’t want that.”

“I’m not going to trade my team’s well-being for the sake of an animal.”

“Cadia,” Aderyn said.

Cadia turned on her. “What is so important you think you can interrupt me?”

“That’s enough,” Owen said. Aderyn hadn’t heard him following her. “Cadia, you understand trade-offs. You’re too experienced not to. Can’t a <Healing Stone> be replenished?”

“Not cheaply,” Cadia said. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand the details.”

“How expensive?”

Cadia looked like she was searching for the hidden dagger in his words. “Five gold per charge.”

“Then ask the wagon drivers to recompense you. If they won’t, we will. You shouldn’t have to go uncompensated.”

“Are you mocking me?” Cadia demanded.

Owen spread his hands wide in invitation. “No. You have a point that using those charges could cost you and yours injury or maybe death. But this is the need right now. You signed up to protect the caravan just as it protects you. This is just another aspect of that contract.”

Cadia hesitated. Then she dipped into her belt pouch and pulled out a smooth river stone that didn’t look like anything special. “How many injured?”

“Two at the rear,” Owen said. “Isold?”

“Four at the front,” Isold said.

Cadia nodded. “Stand aside.”

Owen stepped back from the fallen ox. Cadia pressed the stone to the animal’s forehead, ignoring its restless tossing. A green glow began radiating from within the ox, as if it had swallowed a light. The glow spread across its body, raising its hairs until it was as fluffy as a sheep. When the glow reached the burned, acid-ravaged legs, it brightened until Aderyn couldn’t look directly at it. Soon the light faded, and the ox struggled to its feet. The acid burns were gone as completely as if they had never been.

“Thank you,” Owen said.

Cadia eyed him, clearly looking for signs of ridicule. Owen’s expression remained calm. With a toss of her head, Cadia walked away.

Owen watched her go. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw. “Let’s scout ahead,” he said, and strode after Cadia without waiting for Aderyn’s assent. Aderyn hurried after him.

They passed Beyla’s wagon without doing more than acknowledging her wave, though she’d clearly intended them to stop. The ground was indeed mushy, like a wet sponge, and Aderyn hated the squishing feeling every time she stepped. More cautious now, she watched the nearest trees for oozes, but nothing moved. The tree bark looked puffy, like it was swollen with fluid.

“She’s dangerous,” Owen said. “Did you see the burns on that ox’s legs? Either she’s a terrible shot, which I doubt, or she didn’t care whether she hit an ox or an ooze.”

“I saw,” Aderyn said. “But that carelessness isn’t enough for us to make a play for leadership, so what can we do?”

“Wait for her to get someone killed?” Owen sounded furious. “We couldn’t even count on the someone being her.”

“You don’t wish her dead, do you?”

“I mean that her carelessness isn’t guaranteed to hurt her the way it would if the world was fair.” He let out a deep breath. “Let’s take a look around. If we could figure out what caused this, it might relieve our worries. Like, if it’s a plant disease rather than a monster.”

Aderyn nodded. She left the path and walked slowly between the trees, searching the ground. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Tracking wasn’t one of her class skills or anything she had experience with. All she could tell was that nothing larger than her had come through this forest recently.

“There aren’t as many trees,” she said. “And the ones that are there look skinnier, once you get past the puffy bark.”

“I’d like to see what liquid is in there, but I don’t want to take a chance on it being poisonous or acidic.” Owen had walked in the opposite direction, but he hadn’t gone far. “The weird thing is I don’t see any evidence that trees have been chopped down or uprooted.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have no idea. Let’s get back. Maybe Isold knows.” He sighed again. “I think I can face Cadia now without killing her.”

“You were incredibly diplomatic. I was impressed.”

“Thanks. It was an act of superhuman effort.”

By the time they returned, all the oxen were healed and the caravan was stirring into life. Cadia wasn’t there when Owen and Aderyn approached Beyla’s wagon. Beyla stood up on the wagon seat when she saw them. “Did you find anything?”

“No monsters, and no more slime oozes,” Owen said. “I think our best bet is to get through this part of the forest as quickly as possible.”

“I agree. It’s unsettling. And it smells strange.”

Aderyn sniffed. “I don’t smell anything.”

“That’s what I mean. No pine odors.” Beyla nodded to Artan, who blew two short, shrill blasts on an enormous whistle, and Beyla cracked the reins to make the ponderous oxen move out.

“We’re here. We might as well walk point,” Owen suggested.

The strain of watching for an unknown enemy wore on Aderyn. She twitched at every movement, every shift of the branches in the breeze that was the only normal thing about the forest. She found herself staring at the bark for seconds at a time and having to jerk her attention away. Why it fascinated her, she didn’t know, because it was unnatural and vile and left her unsettled, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

To distract herself, she made sure to check the skies every other minute. A cave bladder or a cat-hawk would have been a relief. At least those were normal monsters. You couldn’t fight a diseased forest with a sword.

A scream startled her out of contemplation of the bark pattern. She whipped around and drew her sword. Owen shouted something incoherent and raced past her, and a second later, she followed. At the rear of the caravan, trees thrashed as if the breeze had become a gale. They swayed low and swept the ground, bending in ways impossible for a normal tree. More screaming, hoarse and terrified, filled the air, along with the now-familiar sound of cattle lowing in panic.

Then the trees flailed, and a human figure flew into the sky to be gripped by many branches as flexible as tentacles. A terrified scream cut off as the tree tore the man in half and flung the grotesque remains to another tree. Its branches caught the pieces and dragged them toward a mouth that gaped open to receive them.

Horrified, Aderyn stumbled to a halt. Owen slowed and turned to shout, “Don’t stop! We have to save them!”

A tentacle-limb flashed past. It wrapped around Owen’s waist. With a lash like a whip, he was gone.

Chapter Sixteen

In the next instant, a fireball streaked past close enough to scorch Aderyn’s skin. It struck the tree holding Owen. The tree caught fire, its soggy bark popping in the heat, and dropped Owen, who fell ten feet to the forest floor and didn’t immediately get up. Aderyn rushed to his side and rolled him onto his back. His eyes were open, and he was gasping for air.

The popping, roaring sound got louder, and Aderyn looked up and screamed at the sight of the burning tree, staggering on mobile roots toward them. “Get up, we have to move!” she shouted, trying to get Owen to his feet.

A mudball shot past, impacting on the tree and knocking it back. Some of the fires went out, and the tree toppled backward, landing with a squishy thud full-length on the punky ground. Aderyn watched, fearful of seeing it rise again, but it didn’t move.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Vile Sarcocarp]!

You have earned [3250 XP].

Welcome to Level Eight

Owen shifted. “Knocked the wind out of me,” he managed. “Where’s my sword?”

Aderyn found the <Twinsword> a few feet away and brought it to him. Owen got to his feet. “I don’t know how much good it will do, but we have to try.”

They ran again, toward the nightmare. Aderyn didn’t see any more of the drivers, and to her relief the musicians and the families were also safely in their wagons. But her friends were in the thick of the fight along with Cadia’s team, defending the oxen, and every time a disturbingly flexible branch whipped near one of them, her stomach constricted.

As she ran, she Assessed the creatures.

Name: Vile Sarcocarp

Type: Abomination

Power Level: 9

The vile sarcocarp is an opportunistic feeder, waiting for its prey to come to it and attacking without mercy when it does. Vile sarcocarps appear in pairs; as their tentacles are too short to reach their mouths, each depends on its mate to feed it. It is vulnerable to fire and freezing damage and is moderately affected by slashing weapons.

The blue lines of light slid over the nearest vile sarcocarp, seeking a weakness and finding none. “There’s no weakness to weapons!” she shouted. “You’ll have to keep hacking at it!”

She moved around behind the nearest tree monster, but it ignored her, swatting at Owen, who’d just taken a chunk out of its body with a slash of the <Twinsword>. All her attacks did nothing, and [Outflank] seemed not to be working—but if it didn’t have eyes, and its senses picked up everything around it, that made sense.

Another mudball struck the tree, forcing Aderyn to dart to the side to avoid it stepping on her as it staggered back. A hail of iron spikes slammed into the monster, making it fall. Again, the defeat monster message appeared.

Gasping, she hurried to Owen’s side. More shouts from the far side of the caravan said the fight wasn’t over. “They’re supposed to only come in pairs,” she said. “We killed them both.”

“More than one pair,” Owen said, scanning the distance. “Come on. We can’t stop.”

When they reached the others, though, a final vile sarcocarp had just collapsed, its puffy bark burning with a sullen, dark smoke that smelled of rot. Cadia stood over it, her hands wreathed in flame, and Livia stood nearby, swaying slightly. Weston limped toward her. Nobody was unscathed. Everyone’s clothes were stained with dark liquid, either from the tentacle-limb attacks or from rolling on the mushy ground.

“Is anyone hurt?” Isold asked.

Livia took an awkward, sideways step toward him. “I think I,” she said, and collapsed.

“Livia!” Weston shouted, diving to catch her. Livia’s head lolled, and her half-lidded eyes showed only whites.

“It bit her, or poisoned her, or something,” Weston panted. “Somebody help!”

“She just exhausted her resources. She’ll be fine with some rest,” Cadia said absently. Her eyes were scanning the forest. Beside her, Dashan squatted, examining something in the undergrowth.

“She exhausted her resources because you were slow to react,” Weston growled. “I notice you’re fresh as a dewy morning. You want to explain that?”

“Obviously my resources are greater than hers because I’m a higher level.” Cadia didn’t seem moved by Weston’s glowering menace. “Find your sweetheart somewhere to sleep it off.”

Weston snarled. Owen gripped his shoulder. “Livia needs you,” he said forcefully.

“Marrius’s wagon has a bed,” Aderyn said. “I’m sure he’d let her use it.”

Weston glared once more at Cadia, but he gathered Livia gently into his arms and followed Aderyn to Marrius’s wagon. Marrius poked his head out of the wagon bed when Aderyn called his name. When she explained the situation, Marrius nodded and unlaced the rear flap.

“She won’t be unconscious for more than half an hour, at her level,” he said when Livia was settled on the bed. “I’ve seen this happen a dozen times.”

“Shouldn’t she have known she was reaching her limit?” Weston said.

“She probably did. You know her better than I—is she the sort of person who cares more for saving people than for sparing herself?” Marrius climbed out of the wagon. “Go ahead and stay with her, young man. I’m guessing we’ll want to move out twice as fast now.”

Aderyn nodded. “I have to see if I’m needed. Thank you, Grandfather.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Marrius patted her shoulder and climbed onto the box.

The caravan jerked into motion before Aderyn reached its rear. Cadia was gone, and so was Garet. Talandra and Dashan stood talking quietly a few yards back from the last wagon. Owen and Isold were having their own conversation. When Aderyn joined them, Isold was saying, “She held back. I don’t know why.”

“She saved my life. I hate owing her anything, but it’s true,” Owen said. “Let’s get out of this place. We can worry about blame later.”

“Owen, that man died because she was too slow to attack.” Isold’s grimy face was set in a terrible scowl. “She can’t be allowed to continue to lead—no, she doesn’t even lead, she just postures. And Livia exhausted herself trying to compensate.”

“I know, but there’s nothing we can do now.” Owen sounded as frustrated as Isold. “Aderyn, is Livia well?”

“Marrius says half an hour will restore her.”

“Then, Isold, go keep an eye on her in case she needs healing when she wakes. Aderyn and I will take a guard position.” Owen sighed. “This was supposed to be a straightforward journey.”

“Nothing is ever straightforward when people are involved,” Isold said.

As Isold was leaving, Dashan approached Aderyn and Owen. “Garet is going to drive that wagon,” he said. “The one whose driver died. We’ve been talking, Talandra and I, about spreading out the guard pattern. This is a bad time to be short-handed.”

Owen nodded. “We can take the rear if you want. Our friends should be back at their positions in no more than an hour.”

“That works for us.” Dashan hesitated, then said, “Cadia’s not good at tactics. She did her best.”

“It could have been a far greater disaster,” Owen said blandly. If he heard Dashan’s unspoken invitation to criticize Cadia, he didn’t take it.

Dashan nodded and walked on, soon disappearing behind the wagons. Talandra, with a glance at Owen and Aderyn, did the same on the nearer side of the caravan.

It took another tense hour to leave the blighted forest behind. No other monsters appeared, though Aderyn watched carefully. She noticed the hypnotic effect of the bark was gone and cursed herself silently. If that had been a power of the vile sarcocarp, there was no way she could have known that. She hadn’t even heard of the monster before now. But it was hard not to dwell on the dismembered figure and think of ways the tragedy could have been avoided.

They traveled until later than usual, waiting until the sun had sunk halfway below the horizon before making camp. Nobody wanted to be any closer to the blight than necessary. Aderyn helped build the fire and lit it with a <Matchlighter> when it turned out Livia still couldn’t cast spells. “It’s fine,” she said to Weston’s worried exclamations. “I’ve never outrun my resources before, but I can feel them rising rapidly. It’s like being carried aloft, this sort of buoyant feeling, and it’s surprisingly nice.”

“If anything attacks, you’ll be helpless,” Weston said. “Since when are you so cavalier about anything?”

“I did say it feels like floating, dearest. Maybe I’ve temporarily gained a Windwarden class.” She laughed and patted Weston’s cheek. “I could cast spells if I had to, I suppose, but my instincts say I should give myself time to rest. And choose new spells. That fight was intense, but I noticed we reached level eight.”

Aderyn hadn’t noticed the message at all. She scooted back from the growing fire and called up her Codex.

Name: Aderyn

Class: Warmaster

Level: 8

Skills: Bluff (5), Climb (1), Conversation (5), Intimidate (3), Sense Truth (8), Survival (3), Swim (1), Knowledge: Monsters (5), Knowledge: Demons (1)

Class Skills: Improved Assess 2 (11), Awareness (7), Knowledge: Geography (5), Spot (6), Discern Weakness (9), Dodge (7), Improvised Distraction (5), Outflank (6), Draw Fire (1), Keep Pace (5), Amplify Voice (1), See It Coming (0)

“Huh,” she said. “I don’t know what this skill is. It’s called [See It Coming]. Also, [Improved Assess 1] advanced to second tier.”

“Maybe it means seeing a little ways into the future,” Owen suggested. His eyes were moving as if he was reading invisible letters.

“I feel like the system wants me to be more like a Pathseer,” Weston said. “I have a couple of concealment skills this level.”

Impulsively, Aderyn Assessed Weston.

[Improved Assess 2] grants a number of Assessment options. Please select from the following:

[Level Assess]

[Skill Assess]

[Full Assess]

“Full Assess,” Aderyn murmured, intrigued.

Name: Weston

Class: Moonlighter

Level: 8

Skills: Assess (6), Climb (4), Conversation (7), Intimidate (4), Sense Truth (8), Survival (4), Swim (2), Knowledge: Demons (1)

Class Skills: Pick Locks (9), Improved Sneak Attack (11), Improved Weapons Proficiency (9), Basic Armor Proficiency (6), Detect Traps (7), Disable Traps (4), Spot (10), Awareness (8), Dodge (8), Stealth (9), Improved Bluff (8), Dirty Fighting (3), To the Heart (6), Hide (2), Basic Thrown Weapons Proficiency (1), Disguise (0), Hide in Plain Sight (0)

“I can see your skills!” she exclaimed. “Your whole list. Though I don’t know what good that will do me.”

“It has a lot of uses,” Owen said. “It’s less likely you’ll be deceived by someone concealing his class, if you can see the person has skills that don’t match his stated class.”

“That hadn’t occurred to me. Are you sure you’re not a Moonlighter or a Lightfingers?” Aderyn teased.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little sideways logic.” Owen tossed a dead weed into the fire and watched it shrivel. “Speaking of Lightfingers, has anyone seen Garet?”

“He was driving the wagon,” Isold said. “When we camped, he helped one of the other drivers unhitch the oxen and then joined Cadia’s group at their fire.”

“Sounds like you were paying attention,” Weston said.

“I don’t like him. And I don’t trust him. He has an unnatural interest in us.”

“I agree,” Owen said, “and I think we should go on watching him. Just in case.”

Aderyn wrapped her arms around her knees. “What do we do about Cadia, then?”

Owen threw another dead weed with more force. It drifted and landed short of the fire. “We could force the issue of her being in charge, but as poorly as she did it, she still defended the caravan today. We’d have no support from the drivers and possibly none from Beyla and Artan. We can’t do anything about that.”

“But—”

“I know, Aderyn, but this is a time when tactical concerns have to give way to political ones. Let’s just hope nothing else catastrophic happens in the next four days, okay?”

Aderyn scowled and rose from her seat. “I’m going to take my watch now. That should clear my head.”

“But you haven’t eaten,” Livia protested.

“I have rations. I’ll be fine.”

The mention of rations reminded her of the fine meal she’d had with Marrius the other day. She decided to begin her watch by checking on each wagon, ending with Marrius’s. Then she remembered she had to stand watch with one of Cadia’s team. Grousing under her breath, she ducked past the middle wagon in line and headed for the other team’s fire. Maybe she’d get lucky, and she’d be partnered with Dashan.

She wasn’t lucky. Cadia herself rose when Aderyn approached. “We’ll watch together tonight,” she said.

With Cadia in tow, Aderyn couldn’t stop to chat with her grandfather as she’d planned. Still silently grousing, she led Cadia in the rounds of checking the wagoners, and then the two of them walked the perimeter. Cadia didn’t seem interested in conversation, either, which suited Aderyn, but as they came around to their beginning point, the Flamecrafter said, “You should tell Owen to stop trying to take over. He’s too low a level to be qualified.”

“He doesn’t want to take over. He just wants everyone to be safe.” Aderyn reminded herself politics over tactics and didn’t expand on that statement.

“I can make that happen better than he can. He knows who saved his life today.”

“I hope you don’t mean this is a matter of gaining gratitude points. This isn’t a game,” Aderyn retorted, more hotly than she’d intended.

Cadia smiled as if she’d won the round of the game they weren’t playing. “Merely pointing out my qualifications.”

Aderyn ground her back teeth together to stop an angrier reply from emerging.

They continued in silence for the rest of their watch, when Aderyn returned to rouse Weston. When she settled on her bedroll, Owen stirred nearby. “What did Cadia want you to tell me?”

“How did you know that?”

“Cadia knows if she and I argue, it might come to blows. For all she’s sloppy and undisciplined, she doesn’t want outright war to break out. But she’s not above sending a warning through someone else.” Owen propped his head on his hand and waited.

Aderyn sighed. She pulled off one boot and said, “She said you shouldn’t challenge her for the leadership of the caravan, and that you ought to be grateful she saved your life. Like that gives her a pass on everything else.”

“It’s no more than I expected. And I am grateful, but that’s not going to stop me from doing the right thing.” Owen lay back down. “Four more days.”

“Four more days,” Aderyn agreed.

Chapter Seventeen

As if the system knew when not to push, the next day was peaceful. Aderyn didn’t relax her guard. They weren’t safe until they reached Elkenforest. But she did feel calmer, less on edge and more mentally alert.

The forest was more beautiful now she had the soggy, gray, horrible blight to compare it to. She listened to the birds singing and counted the different songs, though she knew nothing about birds to be able to identify their species. It was something to keep her focused on the world around her. The pine trees, too, were fascinating, with how their needle-covered branches made a hissing noise when the wind made them rub together. The needles’ scent was sharp and almost minty, and it made the air smell fresh all day.

They camped that evening where the trees grew close together, almost too close to fit the wagons, which had to line up along the stretch of ground that passed for a road. Aderyn chopped vegetables only a little dry after five days on the road and added them to the soup pot where the dried meat soaked. Owen and Weston had gone to walk the perimeter, Isold was with the musicians, and Livia was off providing water to the different soup pots and kettles. The distant cries of the children made a pleasant contrast to the birdsongs.

Then, nearer to hand, she heard a different kind of cry, one that sounded terrified.

Aderyn left the soup pot and hurried toward the shrieking woman. As she drew nearer, the sound of a child crying became audible as well. Concerned, she sped up until she was running for the third wagon in line. All around her, others gathered, drawn to the sounds of distress. None of them moved very rapidly, which annoyed Aderyn—suppose this was serious? A monster attack, or an accident?

By the time Aderyn reached the wagon, the woman’s screams had turned into unintelligible sobs. Aderyn recognized her as Solena, one of Beyla’s grown daughters and mother of six of the children who ran and played among the wagons. Solena clutched her oldest son to her, a boy whose name Aderyn didn’t know, but someone she’d seen leading the younger children in play and whom she privately considered bossy. He clung to his mother, his eyes wide and staring, and made no noise, though his face was streaked with tears. That the boy was so still worried Aderyn. Something had terrified him.

Solena’s husband Gillus had his hand on her shoulder and was scanning the crowd. His gaze fell on Aderyn, and a look of relief crossed his face. “You,” he said. “You’ll go after our Rennet. It’s not too late.”

Aderyn, startled, halted in her approach. “Go after who?”

Solena dashed tears from her eyes. “They were playing near that big hollow tree, Brindan and Rennet. The creatures came from nowhere and snatched them both. Brindan got away, but Rennet—they took my child! Please, hurry! If you go now, you can save her.”

“I don’t—” Aderyn hesitated. She couldn’t tell a mother to her face that her child was likely dead.

“Tell us what the creatures were,” Owen said, startling Aderyn again. He crouched to put himself on Brindan’s level. The boy stared at him blankly. “It’s all right, Brindan,” Owen said. “Tell us what you saw.”

Brindan shivered. “They were made of wood,” he said. “Green wood with moss. They were taller than me, but not by much. Their fingers—their fingers felt sharp like splinters.” His eyes filled with tears. “I left her. Mam says, watch out for Rennet, but she’s a pest and I—” Sobs obscured his last words.

“Don’t worry about that,” Owen said. “If one of you hadn’t escaped, we wouldn’t know what had happened to either of you.” He stood to face Brindan’s parents. “Where’s the hollow tree?”

Aderyn realized they had an audience of nearly the entire camp. She stepped closer to Owen, feeling uncomfortable that all these people were watching them, waiting to see what they’d do.

“This way,” Gillus said. “It isn’t far. We don’t let the children wander.” He sounded defensive, like Rennet’s abduction was his fault. Aderyn wasn’t inclined to place blame.

The hollow tree was enormous, twice as big around as its neighbors, and looked like it had been eviscerated with how large the hollow was. Aderyn didn’t know how it was still alive. When they were within sight of it, maybe twenty feet away, Owen said, “Stop. Nobody go closer. We want to be able to see any traces the monsters left behind. Where’s Weston?”

“Here,” Weston said. “But—”

“I know you’re not a Pathseer, but you’re the best we’ve got,” Owen said. “Brindan, did you see which way the monsters went?”

Brindan pointed northwest. Weston nodded and made his way across the ground, moving far too lightly for a man his size. Aderyn watched him examine the ground, willing him to find something. If monsters carried someone off rather than simply killing them, that couldn’t be a good thing. And a child—

“Does anyone know what monster it was?” Owen asked. “Made of green wood, not very tall, covered in moss?”

Isold pushed his way through the crowd. “Spriggans,” he said. He sounded grim.

Gasps rose up from the crowd, and a couple of people began crying. Aderyn said, “What’s a spriggan?”

“Forest folk,” Isold said. “They’re said to be made of living wood, and they prey on whatever woodland creatures they can find. They’ll have a stronghold somewhere nearby.”

“Prey on—” Solena said, her voice choked.

“They take human children alive,” Isold said. “Rennet is in no immediate danger.”

“Then what do they want with her?” Owen asked.

“I don’t know,” Isold said. He caught Owen’s eye and gave a tiny shake of his head. Aderyn felt cold. Isold was lying, which meant he didn’t want Rennet’s parents to hear the truth. Rennet likely wouldn’t survive whatever the spriggans had in mind.

“We’ve fought spriggans before,” Cadia said. She stood at the back of the crowd, which shifted as everyone turned to look at her. “They’re vicious and deadly. I’m sorry to tell you this, but there’s no way to rescue the child.”

“He said she was in no immediate danger,” Gillus exclaimed.

“By the time we reach her, it will be too late. Even an ordinary spriggan stronghold is dangerous, and the very old ones are huge and mazelike.” Cadia looked as impassive as if none of this mattered to her. “We’d be risking our lives for nothing.”

Solena flung herself at Cadia, shrieking, “My child isn’t nothing! Isn’t this what you’re here for, to defend us? How dare you say you won’t risk your life!”

Gillus restrained his wife with some effort. “You have to try,” he said. “Please.”

“Our duty is to the caravan,” Cadia said. “The whole caravan, not just one member of it. If we leave—well, you saw what happened with the chaos worms. That was nearly a disaster because we were too far away to fight them.”

Aderyn wasn’t looking at Owen, but she heard the sharp hiss as he drew in a breath. “It’s a moot point if we can’t track the spriggans,” he said, in what to Aderyn sounded like dangerous calm. “Cadia, we all need to discuss this.”

Cadia opened her mouth to speak. Dashan said, “He’s right. Let’s not make assumptions until we know what’s possible.”

Cadia glared at Dashan, but walked through the crowd, followed by Garet and Talandra, until she was close to Owen. “What in thunder are you playing at?” she murmured. “Trying to make me look bad?”

“Refusing to help find a missing child never looks good no matter how you try to spin it,” Owen said. “If we don’t do what we can, they’ll all resent us.”

“As if I care what a bunch of non-classed people think of me,” Cadia sneered. “This isn’t a popularity contest. I care about not getting more people killed.”

“We haven’t reached Elkenforest yet,” Aderyn said. “Their resentment could play out as them ignoring your instructions and getting more people killed. Do you want that? Because a reputation for not protecting those under your care will matter to any other caravan you hire with.”

“We’re not going into the woods at night to look for a spriggan stronghold,” Cadia retorted. “And by the time morning comes, the child will definitely be dead.”

“No, she will not,” Isold said. “Spriggans don’t kill human children. They transform them into one of their own. It is an agonizing transformation that drives the child mad. We cannot allow that.”

No one spoke for a time. Even Cadia was taken aback. The silence was interrupted by Weston saying, “I can see where they went. Their moss glows—I think it’s brighter in the dark—and they left scrapings of it through the underbrush where they passed.”

“Then we go,” Owen said.

“You don’t give the orders around here,” Cadia said. “We stay. And I forbid you to mention the trail. These people wouldn’t understand the tradeoff. All they see is a missing child and not the lives of everyone else in this caravan.”

“So now you care about their lives?” Owen shot back. “Where was that concern when you were off slaughtering hobgoblin children?”

“I don’t need to explain my actions to you,” Cadia said, her voice rising.

“I don’t give a damn about your explanations,” Owen said. His voice remained low and cutting. “And, as it happens, by ‘we’ I mean my team. You four stay here and guard the caravan.”

“You can’t do that,” Dashan said. “It’s suicide.”

“And I refuse to let you order me around,” Cadia snarled.

Owen glared at her. To Aderyn’s surprise, Cadia recoiled, fear glinting in her eyes for a moment. “That wasn’t an order,” Owen said. “That was a statement of fact. You don’t want to search for that little girl, that’s your business. You’re right that the caravan shouldn’t be left unguarded. But here’s another statement of fact: we are going. Because I’m sure as hell not taking orders from you again.”

Cadia’s mouth hung open. Owen continued, “Now, this is what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell those people what we’ve decided. You’re going to make it sound like a mutual decision. And you’re going to wish us luck as we go. Because what you do not want, Cadia, is any hint that you aren’t fully in support of an action that might restore that child to her family. Unless you think Beyla’s going to go on listening to the woman who wouldn’t rescue her granddaughter?”

Cadia glared at Owen. Owen returned her a steely-eyed stare, daring her to make an issue of it. Then Cadia turned away. “We’re going to split up,” she said to the crowd. “My team will remain here to guard the caravan. Where there are a few spriggans, there might be many. The other team will follow the trail the spriggans left and attempt to rescue the girl.”

“But they’re lower level,” Beyla said. “You said spriggans are dangerous. Shouldn’t the more experienced team go after them?”

“We have to assume that the spriggans think we are an easy target because they were able to capture a child,” Cadia said, as smoothly as if she wasn’t lying her heart out. “That means leaving a stronger guard here in case they return. I’m sure our colleagues are up to the job.”

Aderyn still wanted to punch Cadia, but she had to admire how she delivered that final sentence with no hint of rancor.

Owen said, “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, but it’s safest if you don’t leave this spot. Is everyone ready?”

He addressed this to Aderyn, but Isold nodded, and Livia said, “We should go as quickly as possible.”

Beyla had been comforting Solena, but now she said, “Good luck to you. Please—bring Rennet home.”

“We’ll do our best,” Owen assured her.

Chapter Eighteen

The light had faded while they were arguing, and the gloom beneath the trees deepened as the five friends hurried through the forest. Weston had been right about the spriggans’ moss glowing brighter in the darkness, but the light wasn’t enough to do more than mark the trail. Finally, Livia gestured, and an orb of light the size of a walnut formed in her hand. She tossed it into the air, where it hovered over her shoulder. “Level eight,” she said. “I can make as many of these as we need.”

“Can we still see the moss trail if there’s light?” Owen asked Weston. “Or will it kill the glow?”

“No, it’s fine. It won’t be easy, and we’d be better off if we had a Pathseer, but if we don’t move too quickly, we won’t go off course.”

Aderyn didn’t say anything about how if they didn’t go quickly, it might not matter if they found the spriggan stronghold. They all knew the stakes.

With several lights bobbing around and above them, they strode through the forest, crushing greenery beneath their feet and sending up whiffs of fresh, rich scent. Weston led the way, his head down as he scanned for traces of glowing moss. After a while watching him, Aderyn understood what he was looking at and could follow the trail nearly as easily as he. She didn’t know which skill was responsible, [Spot] or [Awareness]. Maybe it was a little of both. Either way, following the trail gave her something to focus on that wasn’t worrying about what trouble they were headed into.

Full dark came with no sign of the trail ending. Aderyn realized she hadn’t paid any attention to their surroundings for nearly an hour. Hopefully Weston was more aware. They’d eventually need to find the caravan again. The spriggans’ trail was getting harder to follow because the undergrowth had thinned, low bushes and fat clusters of weeds giving way to ferns and grasses. Shortly Weston slowed and came to a halt. “The trail’s gone.”

“I don’t see anything that might be a spriggan stronghold,” Owen said. “Now where do we go?”

“Oh!” Aderyn dug in her knapsack and pulled out the box containing the <Wayfinder>. “We could have used this all along. I’m so stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Isold said. “This situation has us all rattled.”

“Let’s just be grateful for what we have,” Owen said.

Carefully, Aderyn cradled the steel orb in her cupped palms and tried to recall Rennet from all the many children who ran and screamed in play throughout the camp. She remembered a tow-headed child with pigtails and a permanently dirty face running after Brindan. That might have been Rennet.

Focusing her attention on the <Wayfinder>, she willed it to point to her heart’s desire. Nothing happened except the inner rings quivered slightly. She tried again, and this time the leading spike glowed a pale pink pointing in the direction they’d been going. Aderyn turned in a slow circle, just to be sure. The metal spike turned cold and dark in all directions except that one, but even then the change was barely visible. “I must not know Rennet well enough,” she said, dismayed.

“We’ll just have to be careful not to overshoot the mark,” Owen said. “You take the lead, Aderyn.”

With all her attention on the pale pink glow, Aderyn walked forward and immediately tripped over a root. A hand circled her upper arm. “I’ll keep you steady,” Owen said. “Just walk.”

Aderyn hadn’t used the <Wayfinder> for more than about half an hour at a time before, and as the minutes dragged out, she worried she was following the wrong thing. But that was impossible. After all, she’d found the Inn of the Black Gables in Ashenfell, and she hadn’t ever seen that before, so why should finding Rennet be any different? As she thought this, the pink glow deepened to rose and became brighter, as if her awareness of her heart’s desire had changed. Encouraged by this, she stepped out faster.

After a few minutes longer, Owen’s grip on her arm tightened, and he brought her to a stop. “We’ve found it.”

Aderyn lowered the <Wayfinder> and looked up. Her mouth fell open in astonishment. In the darkness, her first impression was of something mountainous, a cliffside or a peak dropped into the middle of the forest. It rose above her, implacable and solid. When her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, she realized it was a giant tree, impossibly big, as big around as the mansions she’d seen in Ashenfell and so tall its top was lost in night’s darkness.

A closer look told her the thing was made of many trees clustered together, bound about by vines like bundles of hay. The trees had been stripped of their leaves and most of their spreading branches, leaving only their trunks, which bent and curved unnaturally. The trunks had a patchy look caused by missing large sections of bark, giving the whole thing a mottled appearance.

“Aderyn?” Owen said. “Can you Assess it?”

“It’s not a dungeon. Is it?” Aderyn asked.

“No, but it is a complex structure,” Isold replied. “Any information your skills can provide will help.”

Aderyn nodded and Assessed the stronghold. No helpful text appeared. “It’s not a dungeon,” she said, watching the blue lines of [Discern Weakness] slide over the monstrous tree, “but I can see entrance points, marked according to how vulnerable they are.” Blue dots, some of them tinged red, marked several holes at the stronghold’s base and a few places where there appeared to be no entrance. Those had no red haloes.

“I see no movement,” Isold said.

“Neither do I,” Weston said. “No creatures anywhere. Isold, can spriggans see in the dark?”

“I don’t know.” Isold took a step forward, but stopped before he could enter the open ground surrounding the stronghold, which was completely bare of trees, bushes, long weeds, and any other plant taller than an inch or so. “I would say not, since there aren’t any of them roaming around now, but I see no light coming from within the stronghold, so possibly I’m wrong.”

“Aderyn, what’s the best entrance point?” Owen asked.

This time, Aderyn examined the stronghold with her natural vision, remembering where the blue dots had been. Her gaze was drawn to the left side, where the massed tree trunks gave the stronghold a grooved look, like deep gouges torn in its surface in which black ink had pooled. “Let’s move that way.”

Staying within the forest’s shelter, the team circled the stronghold. Livia’s lights didn’t reach far, and the stronghold was in shades of gray on that moonless night. Again Aderyn Assessed the stronghold. Three blue dots appeared. Two were at ground level, and both of those radiated a halo of red. The third hovered at about head height. It was larger and brighter than the other two and no red light tainted its clarity. Aderyn blinked the image away and took a look at the spot’s surroundings.

“There are entrances all along the bottom,” she said, “but there are also places where the tree trunks don’t fit together properly, and it seems one of those is big enough for us to fit through. We’ll need to get closer to see it properly.”

“Okay,” Owen said. “Cadia, damn her, said the old strongholds are mazelike inside. We can’t count on finding Rennet immediately. So, Aderyn, you’ll have to focus on guiding us with the <Wayfinder>.”

“That might be dangerous. Suppose we need all our fighters?” Isold said.

“This adventure is more dangerous the longer we’re in there,” Owen said. “We’ll have to take that risk. But on that note, I’ll need to have both hands free, so Isold, I’ll want you to help Aderyn so she doesn’t trip. If the interior is literally a maze, and the passages are narrow, we’ll go single file, with Livia bringing up the rear. Anybody have anything to add?”

“I may have limited abilities when I’m off the ground.” Livia tapped her foot for emphasis. “But I can be creative.”

Weston just drew his sword and ran a hand over the throwing knives sheathed at his thigh.

“Then… let’s go,” Owen said.

They ran, crouching low to change their profiles, across the bare ground to the monstrosity of tree trunks. Aderyn shoved the <Wayfinder> box into the <Purse of Great Capacity>. She didn’t want to waste time digging it out of her knapsack again. The box always seemed to fall to the bottom and be the last thing she put her hand on.

At the base of the stronghold, Aderyn pointed. “That gap there. It’s going to be a tight fit for Weston.”

“Then I’ll go first,” Weston said. He sheathed his sword and felt around for hand- and footholds. Almost immediately, he started climbing. “The surface is rough and bumpy. Lots of places to give you a boost.”

Aderyn watched him climb almost as rapidly as a Spider to the dark hole. It was teardrop-shaped, too narrow at the top to fit anyone but widening gradually until at the bottom it was wide enough for one and a half people to pass. Weston presented himself sideways, exhaled deeply, and squeezed through, inserting his head first and then working his well-muscled chest and shoulders through the gap. In seconds, he’d disappeared.

“You next, Aderyn,” Owen whispered.

Aderyn clambered up. Weston was right, the climb was as easy as if this were a gnarled old oak with branches hanging low. She didn’t even have to duck when passing through the gap, and with a scrape of wood against her leather jerkin, she was through.

She stood in a narrow, low-ceilinged passage with rounded walls, in cross-section shaped exactly like the gap she’d just entered through. Tree trunks with remnants of bark as if people had picked most of it off made up the walls. They curved in unnatural ways, as if they’d been softened in hot water and bent to fit the shape of the hall. Vines bound the trees together, as alive as the trees seemed dead. Patches of glowing moss illuminated the space, turning the vines a brilliant, poisonous emerald and giving Weston’s face and hands a greenish tint but otherwise lighting the space better than a full moon.

Scraping sounds alerted Aderyn to someone coming through the gap, and she stepped aside to give first Isold, then Livia room to move. Owen brought up the rear. With all five of them there, the narrow confines of the hall were crowded, but there was just barely enough room for them to shuffle around into the right order.

“Okay, Aderyn, tell us where to go,” Owen said.

Aderyn withdrew the <Wayfinder> and let her whole self fill with the desire to find Rennet. “Ahead,” she said.

“Good thing we don’t have to rearrange ourselves again,” Owen said.

“And that there weren’t any spriggans here,” Weston said. “Maybe they’re all asleep.”

“That’s much too optimistic, dearest,” Livia said.

“I’ll take it,” Owen said. “We need optimism, because this is the craziest thing we’ve ever done. Now, follow me.”

Chapter Nineteen

With Owen in the lead, they set off. Aderyn stayed focused on the <Wayfinder> and Isold’s steadying hand on her elbow. The floor was as irregularly ridged and bumpy as the walls, but no stray branches or vines looped up to catch someone’s foot. At first, Aderyn walked nervously, waiting for her step to shake something loose, but the stronghold’s construction was solid, and after a while she relaxed. The <Wayfinder’s> glow brightened when she did so, reassuring her further.

Because of all the trees, she expected to smell the rich green scent of growing things. Instead, the stronghold smelled of sawdust and, faintly, the stink of rot. When she accidentally brushed up against the walls and some of the binding vines, she discovered the vines were the source of the rotting smell. Rubbing against them tore open their surface membranes, releasing a gooey, glistening liquid and a more pungent, powerful odor that made Aderyn gag. However living these vines might look, she was convinced they were unnatural.

In her concentration, she saw nothing of her surroundings, and a sudden flurry of motion ahead startled her into looking up. With Weston right in front of her, Owen was almost invisible, but she heard the thumps and grunts of a fight, and Weston had his sword drawn and was poised to attack.

After only a few seconds, the system notice flashed:

Congratulations! You have defeated [Spriggan, Juvenile].

You have earned [1000 XP]

Owen said, “That was close. If it had raised an alarm—”

“We can’t count on that always being the case,” Weston said, sounding unusually grim. “You want me to go first? I’m stealthier.”

“Yeah,” Owen said. “Yeah, that’s smart.”

They shuffled around again and set off. This time, Aderyn alternated watching the <Wayfinder> with watching Owen until the constant back and forth motion made her queasy. Then she settled in to watching the glow.

“Which way?” Weston asked.

Aderyn realized they’d come to a place where the path forked. One path went up and to the left, the other down and to the right. “Right,” she said.

“I feel like we need to be moving upward,” Owen said.

“Maybe, but this is the right path,” Aderyn replied. “We have to see where it takes us.”

The downward slope didn’t last long. Soon it leveled out, and after a few seconds, the <Wayfinder> pulsed red and then fell dormant. Aderyn was about to comment on this when Weston said, “I hear voices. Up ahead.”

“Take a look,” Owen said.

Weston moved silently forward and around a corner. He was back almost immediately. “The hall opens up into a room. Not too big. Four spriggans—they’re talking, but I don’t know their language, so I don’t know what about. It doesn’t matter. If we keep going this way, we’ll alert them.”

Owen’s brow furrowed in thought. “Does the passage keep going? Like, are there multiple exits?”

“At least two. I couldn’t get close enough to see the whole room.”

“Aderyn?” Owen said.

“You want me to provide a tactical analysis for a room I’ve never seen?” Aderyn asked incredulously. She dropped the <Wayfinder> into her purse and wiped her sweaty palm on her trousers.

“That is exactly what I want, yes. One room, multiple exits, four enemies. We have to take them out without them raising the alarm.” Owen’s eyes were intent on her, and he didn’t look as if he thought this was an impossible request.

Aderyn considered what he’d said. “Multiple exits… there aren’t enough of us to block all of them, probably, and even if we did, they could still shout a warning. We need to surround the spriggans and kill them quickly. Weston should charge the room and get to the far side, while Owen and I stay on this side. Isold and Livia—both your attacks make noise, so you’ll look for other exits and keep those plugged. And I have no idea if any of that is right.” It felt right, though, her Warmaster’s senses filling in the gaps in her understanding as if she’d seen the room herself.

“Got it,” Owen said. “Move quickly.”

Weston led the way, moving not only quickly but almost silently. He was through the door and across the room before Owen and Aderyn entered. The spriggans had only just looked up from the game they were playing with small round counters when Owen’s <Twinsword> took the first of them in the chest.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Spriggan, Juvenile].

You have earned [1000 XP]

Aderyn followed, getting behind one of the others for [Outflank]. She was aware of Isold and Livia spreading out through the room, but most of her attention was on the spriggan who’d turned to face her. It was unarmed, but its vicious smile displayed rows of sharp, pointed teeth, and its fingers with their bony claws flexed. Despite her sense of urgency, Aderyn Assessed it. The knowledge could save their lives.

Name: Spriggan, Juvenile

Type: Abomination

Power level: 6

Spriggans are parasites that leech life force from trees they then use in building their homes, which can grow to gargantuan size. They attack with teeth and claws and prefer to rend their opponents rather than killing cleanly. Though they reproduce among themselves, they also augment their ranks by kidnapping, torturing, and transforming human children into spriggans.

Blue lines of light ringed the spriggan’s throat, which was as thin and spindly as a goblin’s, and points of light appeared at its shoulders and groin and over its tiny, beady eyes that looked like drops of black blood.

“Eyes, shoulder joints, groin and neck,” Aderyn said, forcing her voice to stay quiet despite the urge of her skill [Amplify Voice] to fill the room with its power. She thrust for the spriggan’s lower midsection and missed her stroke. The creature’s smile broadened in the moment before Owen took its oversized, bulbous head off. “Keep away from their claws and teeth,” she added. It was an unnecessary warning, probably, because who would want to let the nasty little things bite or claw them?

But in the next moment, it was over. More system notices had popped up as Weston’s thrown dagger drove deep into another spriggan’s eye socket, and Owen was wiping his blade on a scrap of cloth that served as a rug the four had been sitting on. “They’re not made of living wood,” he said, displaying a smear of dark green blood. “Unless this is sap.”

“No, they are flesh and blood creatures,” Isold said. “But look at their skin, how rough and striated it is. It looks like bark but is pliable like skin.”

“I just care that they go down easily,” Owen said. “Though most of that was getting the drop on them. Aderyn, where next?”

Aderyn sheathed her sword and retrieved the <Wayfinder>. Its spikes tangled on something in the <Purse of Great Capacity> and came to her hand slowly. Maybe it was better to stow it in her knapsack once the demands of the moment were over.

The room had four exits, including the one they’d come in by, and she swiveled until the steel spike showed bright, warm pink. “That one.”

They resumed their marching order, with Weston in the lead. For a while, they walked in silence except for Aderyn giving directions when they came to a fork in the path. Now they moved steadily upward, not at a steep incline but always generally up. Aderyn thought they might be circling the stronghold in a great spiral, up and in.

The walls closed in on them, making it impossible to avoid the vines with their stinking liquid insides. The spurting liquid clung to Aderyn’s shirt and arms. After a time, her nose shut down in self-defense. She told herself how nice it would be when this was all over and they cleaned themselves up, but all her nerves were on edge and it was impossible to remember there was a world out there that wasn’t dead wood and corrupt vines.

She counted the intersections, though it wasn’t as if she knew how many turnings would bring them to their destination. In her heart, each intersection meant one more chance to be surprised. But nothing jumped out at them. No spriggan appeared to raise the alarm. Three turnings. Four. Every time they passed unchallenged, her tension grew.

They were heading through the fifth intersection, straight ahead this time, when the sound of shuffling feet to the right startled Aderyn into saying, “Something’s coming!”

It was too late. The spriggan emerged from the passage and stopped abruptly. Weston dove for it. The creature let out a squawk of warning, a terrible shrill sound that made the hairs on Aderyn’s arms stand up, before Weston silenced it forever. In the quiet that followed the system notice, Aderyn told herself they’d been in time. Then distant squawks echoed through the passages, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

“That’s it for stealth,” Owen said. “Run!”

Now Aderyn stumbled occasionally as she tried to keep her eyes on the <Wayfinder> and run at the same time. Without Isold’s grip on her elbow, she would have fallen more than once. She shouted out directions, left, left, right, forward, and heard the sounds of Weston and Owen attacking and spriggans screaming in death. She blinked away system notices and wished as she often had that there was a way to get the system to shut up while they were in combat.

Sometimes it was Weston or Owen grunting with pain. Those sounds terrified her, as did the bars indicating their health that shrank a little more with every encounter. Her Assessment of the creatures had given her no information that would help her teammates, and now they were fighting adult spriggans rather than juveniles, adults who had to be more powerful and more dangerous. There was no time to heal anyone, and Owen and Weston could only take so much damage.

She ran forward and bumped into Owen, who’d stopped without her noticing. Breathing heavily, she lowered the <Wayfinder>, whose directional spike had gone from deep, hot red to cold steel.

They stood in a much larger chamber than the last, with a ceiling that was maybe eight feet high, which made it cavernous by comparison to the other. The stink of rot and dust was almost overpowering. Curving tree trunks bound with vines made a floor that rose in steps to a round dais at the center of the room. In the center of the dais sat an enormous spriggan, as tall as Owen and as bulky as Weston. Its tiny black eyes gazed at the friends, taking in their wounded, disheveled condition.

Owen took a step forward. His shirtsleeve was torn and soaked with blood, but his sword arm was steady. The giant spriggan bared its terrible sharp teeth. More spriggans, these larger than the juveniles, stood still where they’d stopped moving when the team burst into the room. Every beady black eye was fixed on them.

Aderyn’s attention swiftly turned to the point the <Wayfinder> had been aimed at. A small blonde child lay curled up at one side of the room, between a couple of spriggans who looked like they had either been tending her or poking her with their terrible claws. Rennet’s eyes were squeezed shut, and her face was red with crying.

The spriggan on the dais rose. It gave a loud, croaking cry and swept its arm in a great arc that ended with its bony forefinger pointed at Owen. Shrieking with rage, every spriggan in the room leapt forward, intent on tearing the friends apart.

Chapter Twenty

With a shout of nonsense words, Livia flung a mudball at the left side of the room. It knocked four spriggans off their feet, swamping them in mud, and mired another three to the floor. Weston flung a dagger at the giant spriggan, who ducked impossibly fast so the weapon flew past and struck a spriggan coming up behind. Owen engaged with another spriggan, trading blows that bounced off the monster’s arms as if its limbs were iron bars. Aderyn’s heart screamed at her to follow him, but she dropped the <Wayfinder> into her knapsack and made herself watch the spriggan fight, searching for weaknesses. The monster guarded its vulnerable spots as if it knew Aderyn had seen them, but it didn’t think about its spindly neck, holding that oversized head up.

She didn’t shout her observations, just let the <Twinsword> carry them to Owen. As the sword conveyed her insights, Owen switched tactics, driving for the monster’s groin and letting the blows be deflected so the spriggan was caught off guard when Owen feinted low, then swung high, taking the monster’s head off.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Spriggan, Adult]

You have earned [2000 XP]

Another spriggan pushed forward, taking its companion’s place. Owen once more had to defend against those powerful attacks, but now he knew the tactics and wouldn’t be caught off guard again. Aderyn rushed forward. How she wished she had a sword fighting skill! But she wasn’t going to let that stop her helping her partner.

She slashed at her opponent’s belly, forcing it to block that blow, then thrust for its shoulder joint when its arms shifted to claw her. Her sword connected solidly, and one arm sagged. The spriggan snarled at her. The ghostly image of its other claws swiping at her startled her into jerking back so when the real strike arrived, it hit her arm a glancing blow instead of taking a chunk out of her. If that was her new skill [See It Coming], it was going to take a little getting used to. A system notice of a monster’s defeat distracted her further, but she blinked it away and rallied as her enemy moved its wounded arm as if assessing its condition.

She took advantage of its distraction and stepped inside the spriggan’s guard to drive her blade deep into the soft, unprotected tissues of its lower abdomen. The thing screamed in her face, choking her with its dank breath like the stink of the vines, and collapsed.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Spriggan, Adult].

You have earned [2000 XP]

Aderyn checked the tactical situation. The vines covering the floor had come to life, entangling Livia’s feet as securely as mudball had done to the spriggans. As Aderyn watched, Livia gestured, spoke a few curt words, and stepped away from the vines that thrashed about, trying vainly to restrain her. Weston had stopped throwing knives and was fighting one spriggan while defending against another. Isold had the attention of the two spriggans who’d been tormenting Rennet, using [Fascinate] to keep them from attacking. And Owen was steadily working his way toward the giant spriggan, who was gesturing to bring the vines to life.

Aderyn rushed to Isold’s side and swiftly slit the throats of the neutralized spriggans, triggering more system defeat notices. “I should take Rennet out of here,” Isold said, gathering the child into his arms. Rennet didn’t appear aware of anything going on around her.

“What if there are more spriggans coming? You’d never fight your way free.” Aderyn scanned the room again. Owen and Weston were too far apart to give each other support, and there were still a million spriggans in the way. Despair clutched at Aderyn’s heart. “We’re not going to make it out of here,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

“Yes, we will,” Isold said. To her surprise, he began singing.

“Is this really the time—” Aderyn said, and then stopped. Isold’s song was powerful, echoing through the room above the sounds of battle. It spoke of past victories and present triumphs, of strength and honor and power winning out over the enemy. Aderyn’s despair disappeared, replaced by a growing conviction that she and her friends would win this battle. It didn’t feel cocksure, just right. Without another word, she ran to Owen’s side.

Owen drove his sword into the belly of his opponent and whirled to get on the far side of the next spriggan. Instantly Aderyn felt the boost of [Outflank] guiding her. She struck the spriggan’s lower back, and as it began to turn to face her, Owen’s sword took its head off.

Aderyn swiped a lock of hair out of her eyes. She and Owen had nearly reached the giant spriggan. But as Owen stepped forward, two more spriggans moved to intercept him. Again, Aderyn ran to put herself in the [Outflank] position, but this time the two made a wall she couldn’t find a way past. She tried to feint, aiming for the one’s shoulder joint as she had before, but it ignored her distraction and clawed her. Again, she saw the ghostly image of the strike an instant before the real thing hit her jerkin and tore through the leather.

At first, she felt nothing. Then terrible pain shot through her stomach. She wrapped an arm around herself, hoping the sharp burning sensation and the feeling that her insides were slipping out was an illusion. Her sword fell from her hand, and she stared uncomprehending at the monster. It reached for her again, its claws glistening with her blood. Suddenly Owen was there, cleaving her opponent’s arm from its socket before skewering it.

Aderyn’s knees trembled, and she sank to the ground, hearing Owen call her name from far away. “Go get the big one,” she said, but he was lifting her in his arms and carrying her away from the battle. She landed with a painful thump on the uneven floor. Distantly, she was aware Isold had stopped singing, which was bad because it was a beautiful song and without it they were all dead.

Warmth suffused her midsection, and her foggy eyes saw a green liquid, not the poisonous green of the awful stinking vines, but a healthy green like new grass that smelled of raspberries. She blinked, and realized she was on the floor of the spriggan stronghold, with Isold kneeling over her wielding the <Wand of Minor Healing>. She made herself sit up and take a deep breath, patting her abdomen to reassure herself it wasn’t shredded.

The vines beneath and around them shuddered, writhing up from the floor to entangle Aderyn. The flexible, rough vines bound her legs together and tied her arms tight to her chest, squeezing so she couldn’t breathe. She tipped herself toward Isold, gasping for help, but he was bound as tightly as she, his face red and his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Rennet, beside him, lay free of the vines but was still wide-eyed and staring at nothing.

Aderyn’s vision clouded over again, and dizziness overtook her. She barely heard Livia chanting something. In the next moment, she felt light and agile, and when she twisted her arms, they came free of the vines as if she were greased. The vines tried to grapple her again, but with some effort, she slipped free of every attack. Isold, too, was loose, and the two of them gathered up Rennet and hurried to a spot where no vines gathered.

Breathing heavily and feeling she didn’t appreciate air nearly enough, Aderyn searched for her sword. She’d dropped it when the spriggan had gutted her, and it was lying beneath a loop of immobile vine. She ran to pick it up and gave the room another quick look as she did. Almost all the spriggans were dead, or nearly so, and Weston had just driven a dagger deep into the eye socket of the last with [To the Heart].

Congratulations! You have defeated [Spriggan, Adult].

You have earned [2000 XP]

All that remained was the giant spriggan, and Owen faced it, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet and waiting for it to make the first move.

The giant spriggan leapt at Owen faster than Aderyn would have thought possible, both clawed arms extended. Owen threw himself backward, bringing up his sword to block the blows. Weston joined the battle, working his way around to threaten the monster’s other side. Aderyn didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish. Only a Warmaster and her partner had [Outflank], and Weston couldn’t do any extra damage.

Then Livia was there, and Aderyn realized Weston’s true aim, which was to keep the giant spriggan off balance as Livia attacked. Livia took a powerful wrestler’s stance and brought her right fist around. It moved so slowly it looked like it was dragging the air with it, but when thunder punch landed, it rocked the giant spriggan back on its heels.

Instantly, Owen pounced, aiming a heavy two-handed blow at the monster’s neck. With impossible speed, the giant spriggan flung up an arm, blocking the strike. Owen’s arms shook as if he’d struck a metal bar full force.

In the monster’s moment of distraction, Weston struck from behind, aiming his sword at its weak shoulder joint and nearly severing the arm. The monster howled with rage and pain. Aderyn saw it then—its head thrown back, its neck exposed. “Owen!”

The <Twinsword> carried her knowledge to her partner. Owen swung for the neck. The giant spriggan moved, but not fast enough. Though Owen’s strike didn’t cut its head off, the tip of his sword sang through the air and neatly cut its throat. Foul greenish blood spurted, some of it striking Owen’s already ruined shirt and his brigandine. The giant spriggan sagged, then hit the floor, its enormous round head bouncing as it slammed into the unnaturally shaped wood.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Spriggan, Elder].

You have earned [3000 XP]

Owen leaned on his sword, breathing heavily. “Are there more?” he asked.

“I still hear movement,” Weston said, tilting his head. “We need to go.”

Isold already held Rennet. “I can’t help Aderyn. My hands are full.”

“I remember the way,” Weston said. “Let’s run!”

“Wait,” Owen said, pointing his sword at the elder spriggan’s body. “I have an idea.”

THEY SCRAMBLED THROUGH THE PASSAGES, no longer trying to keep quiet. Weston ran at the head of their group, never hesitating at the many intersections. Aderyn’s heart slammed against her ribcage, partly in exertion, partly in fear. Excitement and terror would keep all of them going for a time, but exhaustion ran close on their heels, and if they couldn’t get out of the stronghold before it caught them, they didn’t stand a chance against the spriggans who remained.

Weston burst into one of the intersections and let out a shout of dismay. “There’s a dozen of them!”

Owen pushed his way past Weston. He didn’t draw his sword. Instead, he held up the grisly head of the elder spriggan and shouted, “Get out of the way or you’re next!”

His words didn’t matter, because the spriggans didn’t speak his language. The decapitated head did all the work. Aderyn watched in mingled pleasure and horror as the spriggans turned and fled, squawking and crying out in distress. “Go, go,” Owen shouted, gesturing to Weston. “Who knows if they won’t change their minds and come looking for revenge?”

Aderyn was stumbling over her own feet when a cool breeze told her they were near an exit. And there was the opening they’d come through a thousand years ago. She scrambled through and took Rennet from Isold’s hands. The child still hadn’t moved, though she was breathing and she occasionally blinked. A different fear struck Aderyn. Suppose Rennet had suffered more torment than she could overcome? There might not be healing for that.

She gave Rennet back to Isold and said, “Will she be all right? Were we too late, after all?”

Isold shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s young, and maybe in time this will all seem like a bad dream. The only thing I’m certain of is that they hadn’t yet begun to work their transformation on her. That, I fear, would have been too much.”

“We need to get her back to her family, and worry about the details later,” Owen said. “And we need to do it quickly.” He had left the gruesome head behind, but he kept wiping his hands on his stained trousers as if he still felt its burden.

Livia conjured two dozen orbs to light their way back to the camp, and they walked quickly. Running was beyond Aderyn; post-fight fatigue had set in, and the best she could hope for was setting one foot in front of the other, over and over until the bright lights of the orbs mingled with the warmer light of lanterns and campfires. Only then did she finally relax.

When they walked into the camp, Beyla was the first to see them. She gasped, then, when her gaze finally fell on the bundle Isold held, screamed with joy and rushed to take Rennet from him. “You did it,” she wept. “You brought her back.”

“She’s going to need care,” Isold said. “It may take time.”

“We have all the time in the world,” Beyla said. “Solena—”

Solena flung herself on her daughter, weeping so hard she couldn’t speak. Rennet blinked once, then reached out for her mother. She said nothing, but she put her arms around Solena’s neck and closed her eyes for the first time since Aderyn’s team had found her. A little of Aderyn’s fear faded. Maybe there was hope for Rennet, after all.

Chapter Twenty-One

As if Rennet’s embrace of her mother was a signal, the crowd moved away, following Solena and Rennet. Gillus put a hand on Owen’s shoulder and then pulled it away in distaste as it came in contact with some of the green sludge. “We owe you a tremendous debt,” he said. “Anything you need, it’s yours, no questions.”

“New clothes, actually,” Owen said, picking at his bloodstained sleeve. “Even if these can be mended and cleaned, I don’t want any reminders of this night.”

“That’s nothing,” Gillus said. “Wash up, and we’ll see what we can do.” He saluted them and walked away.

Without turning around, Owen said, “Cadia. Any trouble while we were gone?”

“You meant this to happen, didn’t you?” Cadia said, her voice low and flat. “You meant to make us look bad when you came back heroes.”

Owen rotated his left arm and winced. Aderyn realized he hadn’t been healed yet. Still without looking at Cadia, Owen said, “You had a choice. You made it. If you look bad, that’s on you.”

Cadia grabbed Owen’s injured arm. Owen hissed and twisted around, hooking Cadia’s ankle and knocking her down with a shove to her shoulder. He put a hand on his sword. Aderyn said, “Owen!”

Cadia stared up at Owen, mingled fury and fear in her expression. Owen was breathing heavily, and he looked ready to attack. At the sound of his name, though, he backed off.

“That’s enough,” he said. Aderyn couldn’t tell if he was talking to Cadia or to himself. “As far as these people are concerned, you kept the camp safe while we rescued the child. That makes us both heroes. But if you insist on making a stink about this, you’d better believe you’re going to look like a fool instead. And don’t think you can give me orders, ever again.”

He walked rapidly away, forcing Aderyn and the others to jog to keep up. When he reached their campsite, he sat heavily beside the firepit where the fire no longer burned and put his face in his hands. “Remind me why I don’t humiliate her in front of the whole camp,” he said.

“Because that would mean strife that could get us all killed, here in the wilderness where we depend on unity to keep us safe?” Isold said.

Owen groaned. “You would have to be reasonable, huh.” He shifted to sit leaning back on his hands and winced. “I’m starting to feel those injuries now.”

“Injuries? You mean, more than one?” Aderyn demanded.

“It’s not bad, Aderyn. Not like you nearly being gutted.” Owen flicked the fluttering edges of her shredded jerkin.

“Take off your armor, and we’ll see about healing you. All of you,” Isold said.

Owen unlaced his brigandine and pulled it off, followed by his tattered shirt. Dark bruises stippled his stomach, and clotted blood on both arms marked where several claws had found their mark. A few deeper wounds on his left arm still seeped blood. His injuries worried Aderyn enough that the sight of the smooth skin of his chest, the powerful muscles of a Swordsworn, didn’t fluster her the way it normally would. All she could think was how close she’d come to losing him without even realizing.

All of them had been injured to some degree except Isold, who said, “That’s probably for the best, since none of you are good at using the healing wand.” When the last of their injuries were tended to, and Livia had cast mend on Aderyn’s jerkin and washed clean the rest of their armor, Gillus appeared with an armload of fabric. “See what fits, and we’ll alter it to be just right tomorrow,” he said. “Did you eat? We’ll bring food.”

“Thank you,” Owen said. “We’re glad it all worked out.”

“Rennet’s not talking, but we’re hopeful.” Gillus rubbed his chin. “That Cadia, she didn’t want you to go.”

“We had a difference of opinion on how the situation should be handled, that’s all,” Owen said.

“Well, I don’t know about that. She wanted Mother Beyla to move the caravan after you left.”

“She what?” Owen’s voice was sharper than he probably intended, and Gillus flinched.

“She said it wasn’t safe to be so close to the spriggans. That we ought to move out tonight. But Mother Beyla said we wouldn’t go to where you all wouldn’t know where to bring Rennet back.” Gillus sounded nervous. “I thought maybe Cadia didn’t want you coming back at all, but that’s foolishness, because why wouldn’t she want Rennet rescued?”

Owen’s jaw was set tight. “I’m sure she was concerned for everyone’s safety,” he said. “It’s fine. Just a misunderstanding.”

“Of course,” Gillus said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “I’ll have someone bring food.”

When he was gone, Aderyn said, “That bitch.”

“And we can’t do anything about her,” Weston said.

“It’s just a few more days to Elkenforest, and we’ll leave her behind,” Owen said. He sounded ready to explode again. “I’m going to go on repeating that until I believe it.”

Livia rose suddenly. “Let’s change,” she said, sorting through the pile of cloth and holding one shirt, then another up to her body. “Then bury these stained things. I’d say burn them, but they’d probably gas us to death.”

Aderyn put a hand on Owen’s wrist. “It really will be fine,” she said. “And we saved a life. You can bet everyone in this caravan knows who the real heroes are.”

“I didn’t do it for glory,” Owen said.

“They know that, too,” Aderyn replied.

THE FOLLOWING day they emerged from the forest into a hilly area, precursor to the foothills of the Pinnalore Mountains, and the trees thinned out to the point that there were vast grassy areas between arms of the forest. From the tops of the bare hills, Aderyn watched the mountains draw closer. She couldn’t make out Elkenforest—not even Weston could—but the gray, snow-topped peaks still comforted her.

She walked next to Owen that afternoon when the caravan passed from fields to forest again. “I like this,” she told him. “This going from one to another. The sun warms us while we’re out in the open, and just as it starts to get too hot, we’re under the trees. Then, when we’ve cooled off, it’s back out into the warm sun. What a perfect day.”

“Days like this, I used to spend with friends kayaking or hiking,” Owen said. He hitched up his brigandine and rolled his shoulders. “I agree with you about getting out of the sun. This thing isn’t exactly Egyptian cotton.”

“What’s kayaking?” She could guess the meaning of “Egyptian” from context, though she did wonder if Owen went to Egypt often to buy clothing.

“A kayak is a narrow boat that holds just one person. You use it in a river or lake—it comes with a long, long oar with paddles on both ends.” Owen stretched his arms wide to demonstrate the length of the oar. “You tend to get really wet, which is why it’s fun on hot days.”

“I can almost imagine it. I’ve never seen a lake.”

“I guess there aren’t lakes in Far Haven’s area. What about rivers?”

“There are streams, but they aren’t wide enough for boats, even narrow kayaks.” A breeze tossed her hair, which was caught back from her face at the nape of her neck, and she lifted it so the air could cool her skin.

Owen said nothing. Aderyn glanced at him. He wore the strangest expression, like she’d caught him off guard with one of her many questions. “What’s wrong?”

Owen blew out his breath. “Nothing, just—Aderyn, I wanted to—”

A high-pitched chittering laugh filled the air, cutting him off. Aderyn swiveled, searching for the source of the sound. It was a laugh, yes, but one with a nasty edge to it. “What’s that?”

More laughs echoed off the trees’ foliage, and someone ahead in the caravan screamed. “We’re under attack,” Owen said, drawing his sword. “Where are they?”

Aderyn caught a flicker of movement near the base of a tree. When she focused on it for [Improved Assess 2], whatever had caused it was gone. She drew her own sword and put herself back to back with Owen. Another rush of movement drew her eye, something that darted past and hid behind the upper branches of a tree. Eyes watering, she stared, willing the creature to become visible. When it moved again, she was ready.

Name: Boggart

Type: Abomination

Power level: 2

Boggarts live everywhere from forests to tundra. Their camouflage ability makes them difficult to see, while their sprinting ability takes them out of reach when they are finally spotted. Boggarts are maliciously mischievous and delight in causing destruction and carnage. They prey on animals, but will attack humans if there is evil fun to be had in it.

“There!” she shouted, pointing. “Boggart!”

“I can’t see it,” Owen shouted back, but he rushed in the direction she’d indicated anyway.

“It’s gone,” Aderyn said. “Over there!”

She heard the cries of fear and frustration coming from all along the caravan, and the shouts of her teammates. Then a burst of flame and a high-pitched squealing told her Cadia had hit one. Aderyn hoped she wouldn’t set the forest on fire and went back to searching.

A boggart appeared right at her feet. It was small and hairy, with large pointed ears and a skinny body. It made a sneering face and waggled its ears at her. Aderyn swung. Quicker than lightning, the thing was gone, and Aderyn nearly overbalanced when her sword struck nothing but air.

She and Owen chased boggarts up and down the caravan. The creatures were letting themselves be seen now, but every time Owen or Aderyn got close, they darted away. Panting, Aderyn grabbed Owen’s arm and made him stop. “This is ridiculous. We have to have a different approach.”

“What approach? Tell me what tactics to use,” Owen said. He sounded frustrated and angry, and Aderyn had to remind herself he wasn’t angry with her.

“I don’t know,” she said. Maybe he wasn’t angry with her, but she was mad at herself. A bunch of level two monsters, and she couldn’t even come up with a plan to kill them. Some Warmaster she was. “I don’t know! We need a way to get them stuck in one place, like we did the last time we fought them.”

Somewhere nearby, Isold began singing.

Despite her frustration, Aderyn stopped to listen. It was the same song he’d sung in the spriggan stronghold, but with a sprightly lilt to it that made her want to laugh and dance. Her frustrations fell away, and the ridiculousness of the situation drove home. “Wait, this is ridiculous,” she exclaimed. “Look at us leaping about. And over some monsters that aren’t more than nuisances.”

Owen laughed. “We can drive them off. We just have to work together.”

“Let’s find Livia,” Aderyn suggested.

They ran, following the sound of thunderstomp, to the rear of the caravan. Livia looked annoyed, but she said, “That song is infectious. It’s too bad those awful little boggarts don’t listen to it and go home already.”

“I know how to stop them,” Aderyn said. “You need to use mudball. Watch where I point.”

She tracked the movement of a boggart to the base of a tree and shouted, “Now!”

A fat ball of sticky mud sailed through the air and smacked against the tree. Muck dripped down the trunk and onto the outline of a small, furry body straining to get away from it. Owen walked over to the trapped boggart and drove his sword into its belly. “I feel moderately bad about this,” he said.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Boggart].

You have earned [45 XP]

“Yes, and for piddling experience,” Aderyn said.

“I feel no remorse,” Livia said, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s see how many of these we have to kill before it scares the others off.”

They circled the caravan, Aderyn pointing out the boggarts in their camouflage, Livia blasting them with mud, Owen finishing them off. By the time they reached Beyla’s wagon, the air was free of the hideous giggling laughter.

A huge scorch mark marred one of the great old pines, and water saturated the trunk and dripped from the branches. Livia regarded it sourly. “And I had to waste energy and time putting out someone’s fire,” she said in a voice too low for Beyla to hear.

“Three more days,” Owen said. “We can last three more days.”

They found Weston and Isold at the musicians’ wagon, where Isold was leaning against the wagon’s rear, talking to the curly-haired lead musician, and Weston was cleaning his knives. “I lost count,” he said. “How many did we kill? I only accounted for two. Slippery little bastards.”

“I don’t remember,” Owen said. “We should spread out and make sure the boggarts didn’t cause damage.”

“It’s what they love, causing damage, and that’s probably why they attacked,” Aderyn said.

“Then I officially don’t feel bad about killing them,” Owen said. “Let’s see what mayhem they left behind.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

As the friends worked their way around the caravan, it was clear the boggarts had done a lot to wreck the wagons. Two of the oxen sported bite marks, not deep ones, and many wagon covers were torn and urinated on. When the caravan tried to move out, one of the wagons lost a wheel whose pin had been deftly removed. It was all small annoyances, but they added up to almost everyone being in a bad mood despite the lingering effects of Isold’s song.

Beyla guided the caravan a few hundred yards down the road to a larger than usual clearing before calling an early halt. “No sense dragging along when we’re all in a mood,” she said to Aderyn. “Let’s see if we can repair this damage and get a nice early start in the morning. Could you help with gathering firewood? Most of these people need to worry about repairs and cleaning.”

“Of course,” Aderyn said. “Will we have a big bonfire, then?”

“I think we all need the company, yes,” Beyla said. “Clear away some of this bad feeling and cheer people up. We’ll share a meal, and the musicians will play, and everything will look better.”

Aderyn didn’t want to admit she already felt cheerful. They’d gotten the better of the boggarts, mostly, no one had been hurt, and an early stop meant more of a rest in the cool forest. It helped that none of her belongings had been damaged. By the swearing she heard as she walked up the line of the caravan, not everyone had been so lucky.

She collected an enormous armload of firewood and brought it to the center of the clearing, where Cadia was at work building the fire. She ignored Aderyn; Aderyn returned the favor and headed off for a second load.

When the bonfire blazed high and bright, she went in search of her friends. They’d set up their bedrolls in a group near the edge of the tree line, distant enough for privacy but not out of sight or hearing of the camp. Weston and Livia sat close together, talking in low voices. Isold and Owen were gone. Isold, Aderyn assumed, was with his ladies at their wagon. “Where’s Owen?” Aderyn asked.

Both Livia and Weston startled, then laughed self-consciously. “I didn’t think we were that oblivious,” Weston said. “Apparently anyone can get the best of me these days.”

“Or Aderyn is getting sneakier,” Livia said.

Aderyn moved her knapsack and sat next to it on her bedroll. “It’s all right. There aren’t any monsters around.”

“Even so, I should be more cautious,” Weston said, stretching. “Owen went into the woods about twenty minutes ago. That’s a little long for a piss, so maybe we ought to look for him.”

“I’ll go. You go back to whatever you were doing.” Aderyn heard her own words, blushed, and hurried away. It was barely innuendo, but the way Weston and Livia had smirked when she said it made her feel like she had said something deeply salacious.

The undergrowth was thick beneath the trees, nearly thigh-high, and Aderyn had to walk slowly to keep from tripping on roots or branches concealed beneath the ferns and the other plants. It smelled deliciously cool and green, and Aderyn considered her heavy coat with anticipation, because with the sun gone behind the distant hills to the west, the air verged on chilly.

In the distance, colors blossomed across the greens of the undergrowth. Curious, Aderyn hurried her steps. Soon, the colors came into view: enormous trumpet-shaped blooms like giant, vibrantly-colored lilies, bobbing on thick stems. Aderyn had a sudden vision of giant bees pollinating the big flowers, but a glance around showed no insects of any size larger than a gnat. She had never seen anything so lovely, the brilliant reds and purples and oranges looking like a sunset fallen to earth.

Impulsively, she started forward to examine them more closely, and Owen’s voice startled her. “Stop, Aderyn! Don’t come any closer.”

She ignored his advice only long enough to move to where she could see him. He was standing in the middle of the field of flowers, his hands spread at his side, not moving. “Owen? Is something wrong?”

“They respond to movement,” Owen said. “I’m waiting for them to fall back asleep, or whatever you call it.” His hand twitched despite his words, and six or seven flowers leaned toward him, one of them rubbing against the back of his hand.

“Are they a monster?” Aderyn Assessed the plants. They lit up with a green fire that turned their brilliant colors muddy brown and dull mauve.

Name: Beauty’s Hold Trap

Power Level: 5

This trap lures victims in and binds them in its stems, keeping victims immobile until they starve to death.

“Um,” Aderyn said.

“Yeah,” Owen replied. “Any ideas?”

“[Improved Assess 2] doesn’t tell me anything about the flowers’ weaknesses. How did you get out there if movement alerts them?”

“It takes a while for them to react. I didn’t realize what was happening at first.” Owen sounded embarrassed, which Aderyn didn’t understand. This was a clever trap, and she would have fallen victim to it if Owen hadn’t gotten there first.

“You said you were waiting for it to fall asleep. How do you know that will happen?” she asked.

“I’ve already worked my way back nearly a foot. When it becomes briefly dormant, I can move an inch or two before it grabs me again.”

“Hmm.” Aderyn looked around, pushing the ferns aside, until she found a long stick. She walked to the edge of where the trap began. “Try to move when I poke it,” she said.

“Aderyn!” Owen protested. She ignored him and extended the stick into the flowers. They didn’t move except to shift where the stick brushed them. She wiggled the stick again. This time, tiny tendrils curled around the wood, and when she tried to pull the stick free, it was caught fast.

“It worked! I think you distracted it,” Owen said. He was another half a foot closer to the edge of the trap.

Wiggling the stick was now impossible. With some effort, Aderyn broke the stick in half and dropped the entangled piece. The new stick brought Owen to within two feet of freedom. Aderyn found more sticks and, bit by bit, Owen emerged from the trap. “Thanks,” he said when he finally shook his foot free of the tendrils. “That would have taken me all night.”

A system message overrode Aderyn’s reply.

You have received [1500 XP] for overcoming the [Beauty’s Hold Trap].

“Fifteen hundred, wow. I’m surprised we got any, given that I got myself into that mess,” Owen said.

“Why were you in there, anyway? Couldn’t you appreciate the flowers from outside the patch?”

Owen’s cheeks reddened. “I… liked the idea of being surrounded by them. Like a sea of color. I know, it’s stupid.”

“Unusual, maybe, but not stupid.” There was a bare patch in the center of the trap now, as if Owen had crushed or plucked some of the flowers. “But when we explain what the trap they just got experience for was, we’ll tell the team you wandered into it by accident.”

“Thanks. I’d rather if anyone knows what a fool I made of myself, it’s you.”

He said it off-handedly, but Aderyn’s heart warmed anyway.

THEY REACHED Elkenforest two days later, just before noon. Unlike Ashenfell, which sat in the middle of its deliberately cleared plain, Elkenforest lay at the top of one of the many bare hills that became gradually higher and steeper as they neared the Pinnalore Mountains. This particular hill was steep enough that the road, after it left the forest for the final time, wound back and forth up the hillside rather than leading straight to Elkenforest’s gate. To Aderyn, weary from the constant vigilance against more surprises, the road was taunting them, inching them closer to safety when she could have climbed straight there. She reminded herself that the wagons needed the gentle ascent, and that roads didn’t taunt anyone, and tamped down her impatience.

The slow pace gave her time to look around, and she had to admit it was an amazing view: the rolling hills patchworked with pine trees amid the grayish-yellow fields, the hills rising to greet the mountains, which were stark and bare except for snow capping their highest peaks. That snow might remain at this season had never occurred to Aderyn, and she shivered, half in anticipation and half in sympathy for Elkenforest’s inhabitants.

Elkenforest’s guards let the caravan in before demanding payment. Aderyn was too far back to do more than see the negotiation Beyla had with the gate guard, but eventually coin changed hands, and the wagons drew up in a circle in the big courtyard clearly meant for that purpose. If Elkenforest was prepared for caravans on that level, Aderyn felt confident they’d be able to buy or sell anything they needed to, even though Elkenforest was a lot smaller than Ashenfell.

She saw Marrius approaching and went to meet him. “You’re going to the Repository later,” he said.

“Tomorrow, probably. Owen wants to see if we can learn something about it first.” It occurred to her that she’d forgotten, in her impatience, to try to Assess the city as they approached. Now that she had [Improved Assess 2], she hoped that was finally possible. She gave it a try anyway, despite knowing that dungeons couldn’t be Assessed from within. Sure enough, nothing happened. Either she still couldn’t Assess a city, or it had the same restrictions as a dungeon. Finding out more would have to wait until they left.

“If you’re free after that,” Marrius said, “I could use more help with deliveries. But your business with the Repository might take too long, so no worries on my account.”

“Thanks. We’ll remember. I don’t suppose you know anything about the Repository?”

Marrius shook his head. “I know it’s higher in the mountains and there’s nowhere to stay, no guest rooms, so you’ll want to leave at first light so you can conduct your business and return here before dark.”

“That’s helpful information.” She hugged Marrius. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. I look forward to the journey back. We have so many stories to share.”

“I look forward to that as well.” Marrius returned her embrace. “Go find your friends. I’m staying at the Starling Inn if you need to find me.”

Aderyn nodded. She hitched her knapsack higher on her shoulders and went in search of the others.

Owen was talking to Beyla near her wagon. Neither of them looked agitated, which meant Cadia hadn’t been there. “If you’ll be here five days, that’s plenty of time for us to join you for the trip to Finion’s Gate,” Owen was saying.

“We won’t wait on you,” Beyla warned. “It’s not that I don’t like you all, but we have a schedule.”

“We wouldn’t expect it.” Owen shook Beyla’s hand. “We’ll meet you here in five days, and if we don’t show—”

“Understood.” Beyla hesitated. “I’m sorry there’s bad blood between you and Cadia. We had to depend on her—she’s level twelve, you understand.”

“I do. I’m glad we came through relatively unscathed. I’m sorry for what happened with the vile sarcocarps. I know Bevan was like family.” Owen noticed Aderyn and beckoned to her to join him. “I’m sure we’ll make it in time.”

Beyla clasped Aderyn’s hand. “Thank you all again for what you’ve done. We’d be mourning Rennet as well as Bevan if you hadn’t been willing to go after her.”

“Is she better?” Aderyn asked.

“She’s quiet, and she clings to her mother, but we’re sure in time she’ll remember it only as a bad dream, if she remembers it at all.” Beyla squeezed Aderyn’s hand and then released her. “Thank you.”

Aderyn nodded to Beyla, feeling awkward—she never knew what to say in response to gratitude—and then followed Owen around the circle the wagons made. Owen pounded on the side of the musicians’ wagon, and Isold popped his head out of the back flap. “I need you to see what you can learn about the Repository,” Owen told him. “We’re going to take rooms at the White Peak Inn. Meet us there by dinnertime—we’ll do our own searching, but you’re the best of us at finding information.”

“Of course,” Isold said. “I’ll just make my goodbyes now.”

“Not tomorrow morning?” Aderyn couldn’t help saying.

Isold smiled. “Morning goodbyes are so tragic, not to mention how tempting it is to slip away with merely a note on the pillow—that is a true romantic gesture.”

“The women in my world would eviscerate you if you tried that,” Owen said.

“Really? How interesting. We are more different than it appears on the surface.” Isold looked directly at Aderyn as he spoke, and she felt uncomfortably like he was trying to tell her something. Before she could ask him to explain himself, he said, “The White Peak Inn in, say, five hours?”

“Good luck,” Owen said.

Weston and Livia were chatting with Dashan when Owen and Aderyn found them. The slender Swifthands greeted Aderyn with a friendly wave. “Guess this is goodbye,” he said. “We’ll be headed to Winter’s Peril first thing tomorrow morning.”

“And we’re going to the Repository at the same time,” Aderyn said. “Won’t you be back in time to join the caravan? After the dungeon, I mean.”

“We plan to stay here once Winter’s Peril is cleared. Do some hunting in the forests around the city. We’ll find another caravan in a month or so. What about you? Planning to head onward with Beyla?”

“We’ll see,” Owen said. “But it was good to meet you, Dashan.”

“Can’t really say that about some others, can you?” Dashan grimaced. “I’m sorry you and Cadia clashed. She’s not a bad sort, just undisciplined.”

“Which is a terrible trait in a leader,” Owen said.

Dashan shrugged. “Depends on what a team looks for in being led. We’re all independent types who don’t want to be told how to use our skills. Cadia provides drive. It’s just different.” He looked past them. “Garet. I was just finishing my goodbyes here.”

“I suppose I should do the same,” Garet said. He shook hands in a professional way that made Aderyn question, briefly, whether she’d been overly critical of him. But then he smiled, and said, “It’s been such a profitable journey, don’t you agree?” in a way that made her feel he was laughing at her for having earned a little money in Ashenfell.

She waved one last time at Dashan and hurried away, only to pull up short when Owen said, “The inn is this way, Aderyn.”

“Sorry. I needed to get away from that louse. Poking fun at us because he’s rich enough not to need to run odd errands.” She joined Owen, and the four friends set out through Elkenforest.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Aderyn didn’t at first know why Elkenforest unsettled her. On the surface, it was pretty enough. Like Ashenfell, the houses all had steep tiled roofs, but in Elkenforest, all the houses were of weathered timber, stained dark rather than painted and sealed with a varnish that at some angles was glossy enough to show the reflections of men and women walking past. The streets were clean and free of refuse, many large windows gave the houses an open look, and most of the rain gutters had little statuettes of birds or squirrels decorating their corners.

It took her a few minutes of walking and observation to realize that she didn’t like Elkenforest despite its superficial appeal because of its lack of green growing things. Not that she expected trees in the middle of the city, but in Ashenfell, every other window sported a box filled with ferns or petunias. Elkenforest, by contrast, was hard and cold and angular. Fortunately, they wouldn’t need to be there long.

The White Peak Inn was on a short, dead-end street that terminated in a circle big enough for one of Beyla’s long wagons to turn around. A shorter, higher-sprung wagon was turning around when they arrived, and they dodged past it to enter the inn. Aderyn didn’t care for the place, after her experience with the Inn of the Black Gables; the entry hall smelled of mildew rather than good food, and the windows were dirty enough to show the world beyond as smears of color. They negotiated for three rooms and hurried upstairs to stow their gear.

The White Peak’s innkeeper, though, turned out to be as friendly and helpful as Sinclus. He didn’t know anything about the Repository, but suggested a few places they might inquire. Owen thanked him and drew the team close. “We’ll have to split up in order to tackle all these places by dinnertime. Everyone make sure you’ve got enough small coin to pay for information, and I’ll see you all back here in a few hours.”

Aderyn didn’t like the idea of being alone in what was almost the biggest city she’d ever seen, but she didn’t want to sound cowardly, and Owen was right, there were a lot of people to talk to. She firmed up her chin, told herself she was a level eight adventurer and worthy of respect, and headed into the city.

Three and a half hours later, she had repeated the thing about being a level eight adventurer a dozen times, whenever her nerve started to fail her. She was sure it had stopped working as encouragement an hour ago. She slumped back to the White Peak, feeling discouraged. None of the people whose names the innkeeper had told her knew anything, at least anything they were willing to share. Even paying a few silver hadn’t changed their minds. She’d even tried asking some strangers, two men she met at a bookseller’s, on the grounds that educated people might know something about a repository of knowledge. Not only hadn’t they known anything, they’d made some lewd suggestions that had sent Aderyn running.

Weston was seated at a round table in the crowded taproom, looking thunderously angry. Since except for one notable exception, Weston never got that angry, Aderyn guessed it was a put-on so no one would try to muscle in on the mostly empty table.

Sure enough, his expression cleared when he saw her. “Any luck?”

“None, unless you count the offer I got to make a couple of men very happy tonight.” She dropped heavily into a chair and propped her elbows on the table. “Should we get food?”

“We’re early. I think we should wait so the food doesn’t get cold—ah, Livia, sweetheart, have a seat.”

Livia sat beside Weston and kissed his cheek lightly. “You two look miserable. I take it you didn’t learn anything. I, on the other hand, met with someone who knew a great deal about the Repository despite never having actually been there. I’m not sure how annoyed to be about it. He might have told the truth, or he might have exaggerated so I’d go on listening to him.”

“If Isold or Owen found things out, your knowledge could corroborate theirs,” Weston pointed out.

“That’s so optimistic. I knew there was a reason I keep you around.” Livia winked.

“I’m sure I have many other useful skills,” Weston smirked, making Aderyn blush. “All I heard were rumors. Wild adventurers’ rumors, like the one about the dungeon that jumps from place to place while you’re inside, or the one about the intelligent talking lynx that walks on two legs like a human and grants wishes that come true in a sideways manner.”

“I’ve never heard that one,” Aderyn said. “What does it mean, sideways?”

“It means, if you wished to be wealthy, it would arrange the death of a beloved relative. That kind of sideways.”

Aderyn shuddered. “I’d rather not, thanks.”

The door swung open, and Owen and Isold entered together. Owen looked cranky; Isold looked serene. “Food,” Owen said, swinging into a chair next to Aderyn. “And somebody better know something, because at this point I’m ready to march into the mountains until I reach the Repository and take my chances with what I find there.”

Isold chuckled. He signaled to the young man serving food and said, “I learned many things, and by the look of you we might have been better off, or at least more cheerful, if none of you had bothered.”

“Don’t rub it in, Isold,” Owen said. “I did learn the route and the fact that it costs two gold per person to enter. So at least this trip won’t clean us out.”

“I learned—and this might not be true—that the records in the Repository aren’t books or scrolls or even clay tablets,” Livia said. “The person I talked to didn’t know what they were instead, though he did say they had physical form. Like, it’s not oral history you have to get someone to recite.”

“That is mostly true, if my sources are right,” Isold said. “The Repository contains what its custodians call witnesses, which are the recorded experiences of men and women going back centuries. I spoke with a very elderly woman who had visited the Repository some forty years ago. She told me the witnesses are magic items of many different shapes and sizes that contain the actual words of the person reporting their experience. Meaning that they speak in the voices of the dead.”

Aderyn shivered. “You make it sound like Owen’s undead people. It can’t be as creepy as that.”

“I doubt it. The old woman looked quite happy when she recalled her visit. Peaceful, even.” Isold leaned back for the serving boy to set a large bowl of bean soup in front of him. Aderyn waited for all the food to be served, black bean and barley soup, loaves of heavy dark bread, and a smaller bowl of thick soured cream to add to the soup, before digging in. The smell roused her appetite painfully, and she accepted a chunk of bread from Livia to dip in the soup and conveyed the dripping morsel to her mouth.

They all ate in silence for a few minutes, though Aderyn could tell Owen was still impatient. Finally, taking pity on him, she said, “So, was there more, Isold?”

“The old lady was the most useful of my sources, but I spoke to a few other people. One of them confirmed what you said, Owen, about the cost, and another said the custodians allow or prohibit seekers entrance seemingly at random. He thought it might have something to do with their curiosity about the questions asked.”

“We’ve got a doozy of a question, too,” Owen said.

“That’s the extent of what I learned. It’s not much, but I think it’s enough to be going on with.” Isold drank thirstily, as if talking had parched his throat.

“I agree,” Owen said. “We have direction, we have some facts about the Repository’s operation, and we have an idea of what kind of knowledge we’ll find. Let’s plan on getting an early start—and I mean pre-dawn early. Don’t look at me like that, Livia, we don’t want to risk being caught out after dark when we return.”

Livia scowled. “I almost want to stay up all night rather than try to wake before the sun. But that will just make me useless if something jumps us. I don’t suppose anyone knows how dangerous the route is?”

“Not very,” Aderyn said. “That is, nobody told me that, but I talked to a lot of people today who knew nothing and wanted to convince me otherwise, and the one thing none of them did was try to scare me with monster stories about the land surrounding the Repository. That’s telling, don’t you think?”

“Nice,” Owen said. “So we have a plan. And… an entire evening free. I say we enjoy ourselves. It’s been a while since we weren’t threatened with danger.”

“I’m not sure I remember how to relax,” Aderyn said. “And I don’t like hard liquor, so nobody suggest that.”

“None of us ought to get drunk the night before a big quest,” Livia said, giving Weston, who’d risen from his seat to look for the serving boy, a warning look. He closed his mouth and sat down.

“I will perform for all of you,” Isold said. “And some of you may even dance. Wait here.” He left the taproom, whistling tunefully.

“I don’t dance,” Livia said.

“We know,” Weston said. “I’ll dance for you.”

“I don’t know any of your dances,” Owen said.

“We can teach you!” Aderyn exclaimed.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Owen said, sounding alarmed.

“Why not? Dancing is fun—just ignore Livia—and it’s not hard. Or you could teach us how they dance in your world.”

“You’d need an electric guitar and a kick-ass drummer for that.” Owen shook his head. “I’ll just watch for now.”

Isold returned carrying a small drum, with a head only a foot and a half across and a base that turned out to be no taller than his knee. When they exclaimed in surprise, Isold said, “Meriah gave me this when it turned out that at level eight a Herald adds a new instrument to his repertoire. Meriah taught me the use of it. Among other things.” He grinned slyly.

“We get it, you’re a stud,” Owen said, rolling his eyes.

“I will accept that as a compliment.” Isold set the drum between his legs and began tapping out a rhythm. At first, it sounded rote, like he was warming up, but shortly the beat became faster, and Aderyn couldn’t stop herself tapping her toe.

Isold began singing, a wordless melody that wove in and out of the drum beats before turning into the song “The Heart of the Ocean.” It was a lively tune, and soon the other patrons were stomping their feet in time with the rhythm. Aderyn couldn’t resist. She leaped to her feet and danced, back and forth, her arms swaying to the beat, twirling every time Isold reached the chorus. Oh, how she wished she had a skirt to spin out as she twirled!

The music came to an end, and the room burst into applause, some of it directed at Isold, some of it for Aderyn. She bowed, laughing, and returned to her seat. “See, it’s not hard,” she told Owen. “It’s all about feeling the music inside you.”

“That’s more like my world’s dancing than I realized,” Owen said. “But I think I’d rather watch you dance. Maybe I’ll join in later.”

He sounded pensive, and she considered asking what he was thinking that had sobered him. But he was watching Isold start a new song, and she felt awkward drawing attention to that moment. She felt even more awkward considering what it would be like to dance with him. Dancing could be so intimate, and suppose he didn’t know that? She might be imposing on him. But in that moment, she wished he’d agreed to join her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The road to the Repository led north from Elkenforest. In the dimness before dawn, it wasn’t much more than a darker line across the pale hills. Aderyn was grateful for her warm coat in the chilly morning. Probably it would be too warm come noon—this was still summer, after all—but she appreciated it now.

By the time the sun rose, the road had all but vanished as they reached the mountain and began to climb. Owen took the lead, pointing out the faint markers that indicated the path whenever it disappeared. And it disappeared frequently, requiring the friends to climb up rocky slopes or over boulders. Aderyn ended up taking off her coat after only a few sweaty hours. If not for Livia’s new spell stone ladder, the trip would have taken twice as long. Livia’s spell created handholds in stone surfaces, making climbing as easy as if they had a real ladder.

It was just after eleven o’clock by Livia’s pocket watch when they scrambled up the last of the stone cliffs onto a ledge extending northeast along the side of the mountain. The ledge was wide enough for all of them to walk side by side if they wanted, though Aderyn stayed close to the mountain wall. Heights made her uncomfortable. She was always conscious of the hard ground that lay at the bottom of them.

Curves in the mountains made it impossible to see more than fifty yards ahead, and rounding one curve always meant discovering a new one. Every time they passed a curve, Aderyn was aware of the sun inching higher into the sky. Soon, it would begin to drop, and then the mountain would block it from view, and then… but dwelling on things they couldn’t control, like the length of this path, was pointless. All she could do was walk, and hope.

They came around another bend, and instead of more mountain, they saw a straight path to the gate of a peculiar building. It was made of the same stone as the mountain, so Aderyn’s first thought was of Guerdon Deep, which also faded into its surroundings as this one did. But unlike Guerdon Deep, which nestled into its valley like a cork plugging a bottle, this building rose in a series of spikes that looked wedged into whatever nook or crevasse was handy. Aderyn saw no windows, no lights; it might not have been a real building at all, but a sculpture of stone.

The only thing that broke the illusion was the gate. It was built of wood stained brownish-red and shining steel bands without a trace of rust. No gatehouses flanked it, and as they approached, Aderyn saw no movement atop the walls.

Up until this last stretch, the path had been dusty and covered with small stones just as any mountain path. Here, though, it was swept clean, and some of the stone had been polished to a marble sheen to make a narrow ribbon of a smaller path down the center of the mountain ledge. Without discussing it, the companions automatically stayed on the polished strip, though it forced them to go single file. Aderyn didn’t know if that was what the custodians of the Repository wanted and obedience would increase the team’s chances of getting inside, or if it just made them targets. She chose to assume the former. Someone would have known if going to the Repository could mean injury or death.

The polished path widened until it ended at a square ten feet on a side, positioned directly in front of the red gate. The companions arranged themselves around Owen, who rapped sharply on the gate. The wood wasn’t as thick as Aderyn had expected. Instead of a dull thudding sound that went nowhere, the knock echoed off the cliff walls.

They waited. After about ten seconds, part of the gate slid aside. It revealed a small dark square the width of two palms side by side. Something black covered the inside of the square, a fine mesh that glinted like metal. A voice said, “State your business.” It didn’t sound like a typical human voice; it was deep and distant and flat, with strange echoes, and it resonated through the little valley.

“That looks like a speaker,” Owen said in a low voice.

“Tell them what we want,” Aderyn prompted.

Owen cleared his throat. “We’re here looking for information about the Fated One.”

“You’ll need to be more specific. Questions with a broad scope are very expensive.”

Owen and Aderyn exchanged glances. Aderyn shrugged. They’d had several possible questions the Repository might answer. Owen bit his lip in thought, then said, “Specifically, we want to know the details of what the Fated One will do to fulfil his destiny.”

“It might be a she,” the voice said.

“I’m sorry?” Owen said.

“You said ‘he.’ The Fated One might be a she. You should be exact in your speech if you wish to enter.” The voice now sounded like a teacher delivering a lecture from inside a bottle.

“Oh.” Owen cleared his throat again. “Excuse me. We want to know the details of the Fated One’s actions to fulfil his, or her, destiny.”

“That’s better. Have you payment?” The voice deepened, dislodging some pebbles from the mountainside that clattered across the ledge.

“We do. There are five of us. I was told the fee was two gold per person.” Owen waved at Aderyn, whose <Purse of Great Capacity> held the common funds. Aderyn reached into the purse, then hesitated. There didn’t seem to be anywhere to deposit the payment.

A whispered buzz rose up from the metal mesh. Another piece of the gate moved. This one was lower than the mesh, about waist height, and the wooden panel opened outward, revealing a steel dish covered with so many fine scratches the surface was matte rather than shiny. Aderyn dropped ten gold coins into the dish. The wooden panel folded inward again.

“Proceed,” the deep, distant voice said, and the panel slid over the mesh, concealing it. With a thunk and a rattle, the gate opened, swinging inward with a loud squeal like its hinges needed oiling. Beyond lay a courtyard with a stone floor polished as the path had been, surrounded by an unbroken wall of stone.

A hooded, robed figure stood just where it would be visible as the gate opened. It wasn’t very tall, and its red robe was stained and fraying along the hem, but it raised a hand in a grand gesture. “Welcome to the Repository,” the figure said. It sounded like the same voice, but was much higher pitched, a boy’s voice rather than a man’s, and it lacked the flat, echoing quality that had been so unsettling.

Aderyn Assessed the figure and got only a name, Breven. So, a non-classed person or someone too young to hear the Call, probably male since Breven was a boy’s name, not that any of that mattered. She nudged Owen, who stepped forward. “Thank you for letting us in,” he said. “Can you tell us what we should do to start our search?”

“Not so fast,” Breven said. “We expect more information before we decide whether to permit you to proceed. Who are you, that you want to know about the Fated One?”

Owen hesitated only a second or two. “I’m the Fated One,” he said. “Or, one potential Fated One. I want to know what will be expected of me if I reach the end of this quest path.”

“Hmm.” Breven clasped his hands in front of him, where the robe’s full sleeves concealed them. “What have you done that proves you’re the Fated One?”

“The <Circlet of Naming> proclaims my destiny,” Owen said. He set his knapsack down and dug around in it until he found the plain gold headband. With no hesitation, he placed it on his head. Immediately, the gold circle shone with a white light that smelled of lilacs. Breven lowered his head so the hood fell even more completely over his face. After a moment, Owen removed the circlet and held it loosely in one hand.

“That might mean anything,” Breven objected. “A <Circlet of Naming> identifies any number of characteristics.”

“I assure you this one’s only purpose is to reveal a Fated One,” Isold said. “I am a Herald, and I and these others were in Dungeon Spiteful when it awarded Owen this treasure, proclaiming his identity.”

“I see.” Breven didn’t sound convinced. “And have you done anything to pursue the Fated One quest path?”

“We’ve completed five or six secret quests that sort of just happened to us,” Owen said. “And we keep being attacked by monsters too powerful for our level.”

“That’s a mark in your favor. Most self-proclaimed Fated Ones don’t realize the system throws those tests in their way on purpose.” Breven turned and walked toward the wall. “Follow me.”

The companions followed, though Aderyn couldn’t see anywhere for them to go. When they were about five feet from the wall, however, Breven raised his hand and waved at nothing. With a grinding sound of stone on stone, a hidden door cracked open and swung on hinges nearly as creaky as the outer gate’s, revealing a well-lit stone passage beyond.

Breven led them single file through the narrow, low-ceilinged hall. Aderyn, immediately behind Owen, had to make herself walk slowly. She wasn’t any more afraid of small spaces than she was of heights, but she didn’t like how much this felt like a trap. She told herself she was being paranoid and once more slowed her steps so she wouldn’t tread on Owen’s heels.

The passage opened up into a much larger room, and Aderyn gaped. The stone-walled space wasn’t all that wide, maybe twenty feet on a side, but it rose above them like a chimney, higher and higher until the ceiling disappeared into darkness. Red-robed figures brushed past the friends, going in both directions, their faces and bodies concealed so it was impossible to tell if they were male or female. In this strange place where dimensions seemed askew, Aderyn wasn’t sure their sex mattered.

Patches of light all along one side of the chimney, squares about ten feet on a side, traced out a grid that looked like a tiled wall with black spaces where tiles were missing. Aderyn examined them, trying to discover a pattern and finding nothing. Then a human figure appeared at the edge of one square, high above. Aderyn was about to point the figure out to Owen when the person took another step away from the square. In perfect silence, the figure dropped, falling toward the ground.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Aderyn screamed.

Breven startled. “What are you—”

Aderyn stuffed her fist in her mouth to control herself. The figure, whoever it was, had slowed in their fall after the first two terrifying seconds and was now floating at a slow but steady rate of descent. All around them, robed men and women were gathering, making noises of concern that had Aderyn blushing so hard with embarrassment she thought her head might pop. “I’m really sorry,” she said, pitching her voice over the noise of the crowd. “I thought that person had jumped—I realize now, it’s a levitation spell, isn’t it? That was really stupid of me.”

“Not really,” Breven said in a tone of voice that said he did think Aderyn was stupid not to have realized that of course the people who worked in the Repository weren’t likely to leap to their deaths so casually. “I’m sure it was startling.”

“Yes, but—anyway, I can see how levitation would be necessary.” Aderyn willed her blush to subside. “It’s so far up.”

The others stood gaping up at the walls as Aderyn was doing. Owen said, “This is going to take longer than I thought.”

“This can’t be the Repository, though,” Livia said. “I mean the part with the information. Where are all the magic items?”

Breven raised two fingers to his unseen lips and let out a piercing whistle, an informal gesture that didn’t match his grave demeanor. “Vesper!” he shouted. “Petitioners for you.”

From a square more than a dozen levels in the air, if levels was the right word, a robed figure stepped out into the air and floated downward to join them. “Breven, I’m busy,” she said, her voice almost as beautiful as Isold’s.

“It’s your turn,” Breven said. “Their question is interesting. This young man is a Fated One, and he wants to know what the Fated One is ultimately supposed to do.”

Vesper tilted her hooded head as if examining Owen closely. “Really? All right, I admit that’s interesting. Come with me, please.” She walked back to where she’d alighted and gestured. “The levitation circles are easy to use. Just step there and think about that room, the one I came from—yes, the one with the two writing desks, on the fifteenth stratum. I’ll follow.”

The circle she meant was a faint gray outline against the dark stone. Owen stepped on it and immediately began rising, not very fast. Aderyn followed him. She tipped her head back and focused on the room Vesper had indicated. At first, she didn’t realize she’d lifted off the ground, the transition was so smooth. Then she saw she was looking down at the top of tall Weston’s head. She looked up again. Owen was just past her reach, and she was drifting past the first of the strata and looking into the squares.

When Aderyn had been small, her father had built a dollhouse for her and her siblings. It had looked like an ordinary thatched cottage until you took off the roof, and then you could see into all the little rooms. She was reminded of that dollhouse now, though in this case it was the side of the dollhouse that had been removed. Each lit square was a little room with its front face cut off so its contents were clearly visible. Other squares that were dark still had depth, and faint shapes lay within each one. Aderyn still saw no pattern to what rooms were lighted and which dark. Maybe there was no pattern, just a matter of which rooms were currently occupied. But if there was a deeper significance to it, Aderyn would not be at all surprised.

Within the rooms, red-robed figures moved, some of them sitting at desks and writing, others carrying objects out of the rooms and through doors that led deeper into the Repository. Occasionally someone would step directly out of the rooms into the air. None of the people in the rooms paid Aderyn and her friends any attention.

It turned out levitating was fun, like having gravity reversed so Aderyn was drawn toward the ceiling instead of the floor. When she reached the indicated room, Owen grabbed her hand and drew her toward him so she could step inside. The moment both her feet were securely on the floor, the sensation of being lifted left her, and she was immediately aware of how far up the fifteenth stratum was. She hurriedly stepped away from the gaping hole where the room’s wall should be.

It wasn’t a big room. Most of it was taken up by two large writing desks, each of them big enough to fit two scribes. But there was only one chair, and it was pushed in where someone had been writing on the top sheet of a thick stack of paper whiter than Aderyn had ever seen. She avoided looking at the writing out of courtesy, though she was curious.

Soon, Weston, Isold, and Livia joined them. Livia looked terrified, more scared than Aderyn had been upon landing. She ran from the empty space to the room’s only door, in the wall opposite the missing one, and pressed face first into the stone. “I am not made for flying,” she said when Weston held her close.

“Are you an Earthbreaker?” Vesper asked, alighting delicately inside the room. “I suppose that would be unsettling to not have your connection to the earth. We might be able to find a better way for you to get down, once you’ve found what you’re looking for.” She pulled the chair away from the desk, but instead of sitting on it, she sat on the desk itself and propped one foot on the chair.

“How much do you know about the Repository and what it contains?” she asked.

“We know the information is in the form of what you call witnesses,” Isold said. “They are the recorded experiences of centuries of lives. They are contained within magic items, all of which are different.”

Vesper nodded. “Here’s how it works,” she said. “The witnesses move around a lot. They get bored looking at the same container all the time, so they trade places or sometimes bully another witness into moving. So there’s no catalog, no map. In order to find a particular witness, you hire one of us to search for it. The custodians are attuned to the Repository, and we have instincts for which witness has the information to answer your question.”

“And we’re paying for your time and expertise,” Owen said.

“You get it. The price is dependent on how many witnesses are needed to answer your question, and it’s payment in advance.”

“How do you know how hard the search will be?” Aderyn asked.

“That’s part of the attunement. When you ask the question, it’s revealed to me which witness or witnesses you’ll need to hear.”

“Okay,” Owen said. “So I just… ask my question?”

“Go ahead.”

“I want to know what the Fated One is ultimately supposed to do to fulfil his destiny. What actions he’s supposed to take.”

Vesper stilled. Her toe, which had been tapping against the seat of the chair, slowly came to a stop. Several seconds passed in which she looked like a robed statue and the companions fidgeted in turn. Finally, she slid off the desk. “That will be one thousand, two hundred gold.”

“What?” Aderyn exclaimed. “How much?”

“You didn’t think knowledge came cheaply, did you?” Vesper sounded amused. “Three witnesses, twelve hundred gold total.”

“We don’t have that much!”

“Then you don’t get the knowledge.” Vesper sighed. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. No one’s ever asked that question, and if I could, I’d give you the knowledge for free, just for that. But I’d be in serious trouble if I did, because if it got around that some questions are answered no charge, we’d be overrun. You’re adventurers—go loot a dungeon or six and come back later. I’ll even have them waive the entrance fee.”

“Thanks,” Aderyn said bleakly.

“Hold on,” Weston said. “You said the fee is for your time in searching. What if we did the search ourselves?”

“Of course!” Aderyn groped in the <Purse of Great Capacity> for the Wayfinder box.

Vesper laughed. “Are you kidding? You don’t appreciate how big the Repository is. And even if it wasn’t big, you have no way to distinguish between the witnesses.”

“But you’d let us look for free, right?” Owen asked.

“I can’t let non-custodians wander the Repository,” Vesper said in some exasperation. “You’d interfere with our work, plus you’d be in there forever because what you ask is impossible.”

The <Wayfinder> box was too light, reminding Aderyn that she’d dropped the magic item into her knapsack during the spriggan battle. She removed her knapsack and began digging through it. “It’s not impossible.”

“You said you’d help us for free if you could,” Owen said. “If we do the finding, it’s not the same as you doing it for us.”

“Yes, but—”

“I have something that will lead us to the right witnesses,” Aderyn said. Her stupid knapsack was too full of things, and she couldn’t find the <Wayfinder>. Impatiently, she began removing her belongings and piling them on the floor.

“We’ll be in and out before anyone realizes,” Owen promised. “Just give us a chance.”

Vesper tilted her hooded head in Aderyn’s direction. “What is she doing?”

The knapsack was nearly empty. “Why is it always the last thing you put your hand on,” Aderyn murmured. With that, she withdrew her mess kit and dropped it on the floor, where it chimed metallically as it hit the stone. She patted through the empty knapsack. Sick dread washed over her. She grabbed the knapsack and upended it. Nothing fell out.

The <Wayfinder> was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“What’s wrong?” Owen asked.

The feeling of sick dread intensified. “It’s gone,” she said. “It can’t—oh, shit.” Dawning realization, and blinding fury, replaced dread. “Garet. That utter bastard. He stole it.”

“Are you sure?” Livia crouched to rummage through the pile of Aderyn’s belongings. “Maybe you missed it.”

“I’m sure.” Aderyn closed her eyes and breathed in and out, reaching for calm so she wouldn’t tear shrieking through the room. “He taunted me when he left—I thought he was mocking me for being poor, but now—oh, damn it!”

“It wasn’t in the purse?” Owen said. “Wouldn’t that have been safer?”

“Yes, Owen, it would, thank you so much for pointing that out!” Aderyn shrieked. “I don’t need you to make me feel stupider than I already do!”

The look on his face brought her out of her fury. “No. I’m sorry, Owen. I shouldn’t have said that. I—” Tears flooded her eyes. “I can’t believe it’s gone.”

She sank to the floor and cried, not caring what Vesper might think. Then arms encircled her, and Owen whispered, “I’m sorry. I wish I could say it will be all right.”

She nodded and hugged him back. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“I understand. It’s a big loss.”

“I think I know what happened,” Weston said. “I don’t know how Garet found out about the <Wayfinder>, but I told you I thought he was sneaking around, looking for things he could steal. And there was that night Livia and I were alone in the camp, and you sneaked up on me—”

“I wasn’t sneaking!”

“I mean I wasn’t paying attention. Anyone might have gotten into your things. Aderyn, I’m so sorry.” Weston looked devastated. Aderyn wiped her eyes and got to her feet.

“I’m not blaming you,” she said. “We shouldn’t have had to be on guard against one of our own. It’s Garet who’s to blame. And I am going to find him and get my <Wayfinder> back. Vesper, can I have your word we’ll be allowed to search when we return?”

Vesper leaned against the desk and folded her arms across her chest. “You know what? Sure. I have to see this for myself. I’ll square it with the others if they complain. Now, let’s get you down from here. You’ll need to hurry if you want to return to Elkenforest before full dark.”

This time, Weston carried Livia as they all levitated in turn to ground level. Livia was still white and trembling, but she walked steadily with the rest of them through the narrow corridor to the courtyard and out the gate. Once outside, she pressed her face to the mountainside and breathed deeply. “I wish I’d chosen earth glide as my spell this level,” she murmured. “I could sail down this mountain, awash in stone.”

“We need to get moving, sweetheart,” Weston said.

“I know.” Livia pushed away from the wall and dusted herself off. “I’ll go first. Those handholds should work fine going down the mountain, but I think I can improve on that path a bit.”

They ran down the path, ignoring the polished strip, until they reached the first descent. A boulder lying directly below them made the terrain rough going. On the way up, Livia had created handholds on its farther side so they could scramble over it, but coming back meant sliding down a short incline and then crawling over its top to reach those handholds. This time, Livia waved her friends back. She took a solid fighting stance, bent her knees slightly, and grunted with effort.

The boulder lifted clear of the path and sailed down the mountain slope, sending up echoes as it crashed somewhere out of sight. Everyone stared at Livia, whose breathing was barely heavy. “Um,” Owen said. “How long have you been able to do that?”

“Since level seven, but there hasn’t been a call for it until now,” Livia said. “I didn’t want to disturb the path on our way up, in case it would invalidate the markers, but I changed my mind. Let’s make it easier for people to get here, if the Repository is going to charge that much for knowledge.”

With Livia in the lead, they walked and sometimes slid down the path, occasionally making use of her handholds. Livia swept the path clear of debris and the occasional boulder. Aderyn looked back once at the path behind them. It was much easier to see now. She considered briefly whether the path of knowledge ought to be an easy one and then decided Livia was right. They didn’t owe the Repository a thing.

Livia’s assertive use of telekinesis brought them to the base of the mountain before the sun disappeared below the horizon. They hurried anyway, moving as quickly as they dared across the loose scree of the still-steep foothills.

“What is our plan?” Isold asked. “Since I doubt Garet will hand over the <Wayfinder> for the asking.”

“They went to Winter’s Peril early this morning,” Aderyn said. “They’re probably back by now. We’ll go to their lodgings and confront the lot of them. Dashan will be on our side, and for all her faults, Cadia doesn’t condone theft from allies. At least, that’s my impression.”

“I know where they’re staying,” Weston said. “I ran into Talandra when I was out looking for information yesterday afternoon. It’s the Flamecrafter’s Fire Inn near the gate.”

“Good, then it’s close,” Owen said. “We should be prepared for a fight, though. If the others aren’t there, Garet won’t have any incentive to cooperate.”

Aderyn’s imagination had been filled with daydreams of confronting Garet and making him hand over her precious item at knifepoint. She hoped he was alone.

They left the hills behind and ran across the fields toward Elkenforest, which was now visible against the skyline. The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when they reached the gate. One gold apiece was all the guard asked as an entrance fee, and they paid it impatiently and hurried into the city.

A new caravan had just arrived, judging by the bustle as five wagons circling the entrance yard unloaded and men and women shouted directions to each other that Aderyn couldn’t understand. Weston took the lead and strode past the wagons, looking like a force of nature as he didn’t step aside for anyone. Grateful for his size, Aderyn hurried after him.

They found the Flamecrafter’s Fire Inn easily. Its crumbling mortar and occasional missing stones gave it a rundown, elderly appearance like the rest of the buildings on its street. The upper stories leaned out over the ground floor like flowers bending to catch the sun’s rays. But the stoop was clean, as were the windows, which was more than Aderyn could say for their inn.

Owen entered first, followed by Aderyn, who blinked in the dimness. Two lanterns lit the room, but their yellow glass dimmed the light, so even though twilight had fallen outside, the street was still brighter than the inn. The room’s small size and lack of windows made it seem claustrophobic rather than cozy, but both the other doors opening off it were open, and a murmur of sound came from one of them.

Only a handful of people sat at tables in the taproom. All of them were intent on their dinners. Aderyn hoped this meant the innkeeper, or the barman, or someone in authority wouldn’t be busy serving increasingly drunken patrons. She scanned the room looking for someone like that.

“The barman,” Isold said, and the team crossed the room to where the barman was pouring a pint for someone who looked extremely depressed, slumped forward on his stool with his head in his hands. Isold ignored him. “Sir, we’re looking for the adventuring team staying here. The ones who defeated Winter’s Peril today. Can you tell us where they are?”

The barman gave them a skeptical look. “Defeated? Where have you been all day, in a cave?”

“Almost,” Owen said. “Did something happen?”

“I’ll say something happened,” the barman said with a low chuckle. “Winter’s Peril lit up like a Flamecrafter’s pyre about five hours ago. That team is dead.”

“Dead?” Aderyn exclaimed. Immediately Dashan’s face came to mind, his eyes squinting at the rising sun. He couldn’t be dead.

“That’s what it means when the lights burn, girlie.” The barman picked up a glass and gave it a swipe with the cloth hanging at his waist. “Winter’s Peril declaring victory over another set of bold, stupid adventurers.”

“I was so sure,” the man on the stool said. “Put a hundred gold on that team coming out in three hours. They looked so confident. Now I’m out a hundred gold and where am I supposed to get that kind of money?”

“You shouldn’t gamble unless you can afford to lose,” Livia pointed out.

“True, but I don’t think he wants to hear that,” Weston said.

The man took a long swig of his pint. “Out a hundred gold,” he repeated, and slumped further until his head rested on the bar. The barman swiftly took the mug away so it wouldn’t spill.

Owen gestured, and the team moved out of the barman’s hearing. “We need to search Garet’s belongings,” he said. “If he left it here—”

“He wouldn’t have done that,” Aderyn said, hollow despair filling her.

“We don’t know yet. We can’t assume the worst.” Owen glanced around. “But we also can’t break into every room in the place looking for their things. Where’s the innkeeper?”

“I doubt he’ll be cooperative,” Livia said. “If word got around that he let strangers enter his patrons’ rooms, he’d have no custom.”

“Leave it to me,” Isold said. He returned to the bar and exchanged a few words with the barman before rejoining his friends. “Back the other way.”

The second door opening off the entry led straight through to the inn’s small yard, where they found a stable big enough for only three horses, a covered well, and off in one corner, a garden plot no bigger than a quilt. It was the first growing thing Aderyn had seen in Elkenforest, and despite her despair it cheered her.

Isold crossed the yard in a dozen strides, approaching a short, stout man who was yelling at a chastened stable hand. “And when I say clean, I mean more than just a lick and a promise!” he shouted. “Or next time it will be more than a lick! Now, get a fork and clean out those stalls!”

“Excuse me, sir,” Isold said.

“What? I’ve no time for adventurers’ nonsense. Be on your way.”

“We’re here in search of rooms.” Isold’s beautiful voice hummed with subtle harmonics that made it sound like music, though he wasn’t singing. “You’re the innkeeper, yes? What a charming inn.”

The innkeeper’s anger-reddened face relaxed. “Why, thank you. It’s good of you to say. How can I help you?”

“Two rooms, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Unfortunately we’re full up.” The innkeeper looked genuinely regretful at disappointing his new friend.

“That is too bad.” The tone of Isold’s voice changed. “But—I’ve heard those adventurers, the ones who died in Winter’s Peril today, were staying here. Surely their rooms are available?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.” The innkeeper tilted his head. “But I’d need to clean out their belongings, and suppose they aren’t actually dead? Usually I give patrons three days to return before taking their things as compensation.”

“We’d be happy to do that for you.” Isold sounded so cooperative Aderyn wanted to find something he could do to help her. “After all, we were their traveling companions. It’s fitting that we care for their belongings rather than that strangers do it. It could be considered to be their last request.”

The innkeeper’s expression cleared. “Why, what a thoughtful gesture! I didn’t realize you knew each other. My condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you. If you’d show us to their rooms?”

Aderyn and Owen lagged behind as Isold, still chatting amiably with the little man, strolled back into the inn and up the stairs. “That was uncanny,” Owen whispered. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“I forget sometimes how powerful a Herald’s skills can be,” Aderyn whispered back. “You don’t suppose… no.”

“You mean, is that how he gets all those women? Unlikely. He’d see it as cheating, and sex isn’t as enjoyable if only one of you truly wants to be there.” Owen shook his head. “I’m glad he would never turn that skill on one of us.”

“Adventurers have protections the non-classed don’t,” Aderyn said. “The higher level you are, the better chance you have of resisting. But it’s still frightening.” She cast another glance at Isold, who rested a hand companionably on the innkeeper’s shoulder. She wasn’t sure who she was reassuring, Owen or herself.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cadia’s team’s rooms were at the top of the inn, on the fourth floor. The stairs creaked loudly as all of them climbed, a cacophony as loud and discordant as the shouts of the caravan had been. Aderyn fell behind Owen and for once didn’t admire him secretly. Her tumultuous thoughts distracted her. Dashan dead. All of them dead. He’d been so certain, and Cadia had had that tremendous fire advantage, so what could possibly have happened?

A narrow hall lined with doors curved out of sight, as if the inn didn’t know what right angles were. The innkeeper stopped at the nearest door. “It’s this one and the one opposite.”

“Thank you. You’ve been so kind. We’ll be done here in a few minutes.”

“I should probably supervise.” The innkeeper’s forehead furrowed in consternation.

Isold’s voice sweetened further. “I understand. But these were our friends, and they would want us to have privacy, don’t you agree? On account of them meeting such a terrible end.”

Aderyn wasn’t sure that was logical, but the small man’s face cleared as if he’d seen sunlight through a cloudbank. “Of course, of course. I’ll be downstairs when you’re finished.”

Owen was already opening the door and stepping inside before the man disappeared down the stairs. “Women’s clothes,” he said, shutting the door again.

Weston opened the other door and they all crowded inside. The tiny room made for very close quarters, especially with two narrow beds taking up much of the space. A small clothespress that didn’t close properly occupied more space between the beds. Weston knelt in front of it. “Don’t touch,” he warned. “I wouldn’t put it past Garet to have trapped this thing—oh, I was right, curse him. Stand back if you can.”

He felt along the sides of the lid, his eyes closed in concentration. The serpent shape of the <Ring of Dismantling> glinted on his left hand. When his hands nearly reached the front corners, he stopped. “Livia, reach into my knapsack and find the metal stick with the wire loop on the end.”

Livia dug around until she found the tool. Weston gingerly slid the wire loop along the edge of the lid as his fingers had just done. When it reached the trapped spot, he made a motion like hooking an invisible nail and gently twisted. He slowly spun the metal stick, and after a few rotations Aderyn realized there was something there: a midnight blue hair-fine thread coiling around the base of the loop like Weston was winding a spool. When the loop was half-covered by the thread, Weston touched the matching spot on the other side of the lid and then lifted the lid a few inches and slid his hand inside the clothespress. His shoulders relaxed.

“Got it,” he said, lifting the lid all the way. His hand inside the clothespress gripped the mouth of an ordinary waterskin so it couldn’t open. “The trigger is gone, but I’m guessing there’s an acid wash or maybe something that ignites on contact with air in this thing, and I don’t take chances like that.” He handed the waterskin to Owen, who set it on the floor beneath one of the beds.

Aderyn knelt on the other bed and rummaged through the clothespress. “You all search the rest of the room,” she said. “Garet might have thought his trap was enough, but it’s like Weston said, we don’t take chances.” She pulled spare clothes and miscellaneous items like mess kits and rations out and piled them on the bed. She barely noticed her friends searching; every time her hand fell on something hard and round and spiky, her heart leaped. And every time it turned out to be something else, like a shaving kit, her despair grew a little stronger.

Finally, the chest was empty. She knocked on its bottom, though she knew there was no chance of there being a hidden compartment, since why would the innkeeper provide such a thing to patrons? No hollow echo sounded. She returned each item to the chest, feeling the clothing in case the <Wayfinder> was hidden in a shirt. Nothing.

When she finished, she stared at the contents, willing them to change. Someone put a hand on her shoulder. “We didn’t find any loose floorboards, and the walls aren’t hollow,” Owen said. “I even checked to see if they hung it in a bag out the window—I read that in a book once. It’s not here.”

Aderyn nodded. “I knew there wasn’t much chance.”

“The others are checking Cadia and Talandra’s room, just in case Garet was even more diabolically clever than we knew he was.” Owen offered Aderyn his hand to help her rise. “But it’s a long shot.”

“I know.”

“Come on. Let’s talk.”

He guided her across the hall to where the ransacking had just ended. “No luck,” Livia said.

“Then we don’t have a lot of options,” Isold said. “Earning twelve hundred gold is going to take time, but we can manage it. And it’s not as if we’re in a hurry.”

“But the <Wayfinder>,” Weston said. “Maybe Aderyn could borrow another one from Marrius?”

“I can’t go to my grandfather and ask for an expensive magic item to replace the one I lost,” Aderyn said. “I already can’t bear the fact that it’s gone. It was his gift, his hope for the future.”

“That’s right,” Owen said. “And you shouldn’t have to suffer thanks to Garet’s greed. Which is why I disagree with Isold. We only have one option. We’re going to defeat Winter’s Peril.”

“We can’t do that,” Livia said. “We’re four levels too low. We’ll die faster than Cadia’s team did.”

“And we have no idea what to expect, and no Flamecrafter,” Weston added.

“It doesn’t look like being a Flamecrafter helped Cadia at all, to be blunt,” Owen said. “We have a Warmaster to Assess the dungeon and identify its weaknesses, and we have a team that works well together. The others didn’t have either of those things.”

“Team solidarity is very stirring, but we are still too low a level for, at the very least, the final boss,” Isold said.

“But we need that <Wayfinder>,” Owen said. “You all know it’s going to take at least half a year to earn as much money as the Repository wants, and we won’t be able to do it all here. That means more travel, and more danger. The only difference is it will be all spread out over the course of months than faced all at once. And I’m convinced we have at least as good as shot as Cadia’s team.”

“I agree,” Aderyn said.

“Aderyn, I thought you were sensible,” Livia said.

“I am. And I think Cadia made some crucial mistakes. She made assumptions about what benefit her powers would be, and she and her team didn’t actually work together. They—what was it Dashan said, that they worked independently and Cadia provided drive? I think Cadia believed passion would make up for lack of knowledge. And I’m certain I can discover things about Winter’s Peril that will make it less dangerous.” She let out a deep breath. “And I’m not just saying that because I want my item back.”

Livia regarded Aderyn steadily. “Those are good points,” she said. “And I don’t know that I want to take a chance on us remaining uninjured over the course of the next six months. I think Owen’s plan has merit.”

“We could at least see what the dungeon’s weaknesses are,” Weston said. “A Warmaster’s abilities could be a huge advantage, depending on what Aderyn discovers. We can decide whether to enter when we’ve seen it.”

“Isold?” Owen said.

Isold looked like he’d been thinking hard. “It’s still risky. But so is everything we do. I’m with Weston—let’s go out there and take a look at it, and if Aderyn sees that it’s too big a risk, we fall back on the other plan.”

“That’s fair,” Owen said. “Now, what do we do about this mess?”

Half an hour later, they were on their way back to the White Peak Inn. “Isold, that was magnificent,” Owen said. “I almost believed that tale you spun about them wanting to donate their gear to the needy myself.”

“After we took what we could use,” Weston said. “Garet’s very fine lockpicks will go to the needy, by which I mean me. Besides, he must have had a second set if he left these behind, and only a poser carries two sets of lockpicks.”

“I don’t know how you can bear to do that,” Aderyn said. “I felt so uncomfortable, picking over their things. Like stealing from the dead. We’re not supposed to loot our… well, our almost-companions.”

“They’re dead, and we might as well make use of what they left,” Livia said. “Which wasn’t much, so I don’t feel guilty.”

“Let’s worry about preparing for tomorrow instead, okay?” Owen said. “We’ll eat, and pack up what we need so we can leave at first light.”

“Definitely our cold-weather gear,” Livia said. “Talandra told me the one thing everyone agrees on is that it’s freezing inside.”

“That’s something I was wondering about,” Owen said. “Why don’t the adventurers who clear the dungeon tell everyone its secrets? Monsters, traps, boss fight, all of that?”

“Because the experience you get from a dungeon varies depending on how quickly and efficiently you clear it,” Isold said. “And adventurers are human. They don’t want anyone getting a benefit they can’t have. So if they earn a thousand experience from a dungeon, and tell another team the details, and the other team gets fifteen hundred experience from the same dungeon, well, that can’t help but feel like a slap in the face.”

“But Dashan said he’d give me some pointers after they—” Aderyn swallowed. The memory of how certain he’d been made her heart ache.

“Sharing with a friend is different,” Isold said. “Even so, I’m sure Dashan wouldn’t have told you everything.”

“I get it, but it still seems sort of selfish,” Owen said. “It’s not like there’s a competition to reach level twenty fastest. Or is there?”

“Bragging rights,” Weston said. “Anyone who reaches level twenty makes a point of dropping how fast they did it into any conversation with other adventurers.”

“That’s true,” Aderyn said. “My parents always say how glad they are that they were teammates their whole adventuring careers and got to level twenty at the same time, so neither can lord it over the other. They say it jokingly, and probably they wouldn’t actually do it, but there might be some truth to that.”

“I wish I could say that’s strange, but it makes total sense,” Owen said. He pushed open the inn’s door and added, “That means no one is allowed to leave, right? None of this competing over who got to level twenty first.”

“You’re a magnet for experience,” Weston said. “We’re all better off sticking around.”

Aderyn laughed with the others, but superstitiously she wished they’d talk about something else. Despite what she’d said, she wasn’t nearly so confident about their chances with Winter’s Peril as she seemed. What if this cavalier attitude toward leveling and experience made them vulnerable the way Cadia’s team had been? And it was her skill as Warmaster they depended on. She hoped she wouldn’t let them all down.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They left Elkenforest early the next day, but traveled west this time instead of north. It wasn’t a warm morning, but Aderyn was already sweating in her heavy coat and thick trousers. She reminded herself to be grateful, because nobody knew just how cold Winter’s Peril would be. Aderyn hoped she wouldn’t regret not buying gloves.

After half an hour, they entered an arm of the forest. No roads led in this direction, and they depended on Isold’s growing map skills to keep them pointed the right way. Birds sang cheerfully in the trees, swooping past and diving at the ground and pulling up sharply, worm or half a worm in beak or claw. They cheered Aderyn, whose mood had been tense ever since last night. Of course, birds didn’t adventure, or worry about experience, so they really had nothing in common with Aderyn and her team. Still, she liked seeing how lighthearted they were.

Another fifteen minutes’ walk passed before Aderyn realized she could see her breath in pale clouds, and her fingers and toes were cold. The ground, covered with short, stiff weeds and fat-leaved plants, crunched underfoot, and the plants’ fat leaves were rimed with white.

“We are close,” Isold said. “Just another fifty yards.”

“Let’s take a look,” Owen said.

The trees gave way to a broad expanse of dead grass that was nevertheless perfect in its short, trimmed appearance. Beyond the grass rose Winter’s Peril. Aderyn had pictured tall, slender white spires with elegant towers, soaring buttresses, maybe a delicate archway leading to the gate, all of it carved of ice. Winter’s Peril was definitely made of ice, but that was where the resemblance ended. It looked like a rectangular box two stories high, with rows of glass windows showing where each story began and ended. Two square towers rose another story above the main castle, capped by tiled square roofs. A flight of stairs led up to a pair of unadorned doors between the towers, the only thing distinguishing them from the walls their crystalline sparkle.

“What the hell?” Owen said. He took a couple of steps forward onto the dead grass and stopped when the others cried out a warning. “I mean, seriously, what the literal hell?”

“It doesn’t look like a castle at all,” Livia said. “I’ve never seen a castle like it.”

“It is definitely the Winter’s Peril dungeon,” Isold said.

“Of course it is,” Owen said. “But it’s an English manor. It looks like a scaled-down version of Downton Abbey.”

“Is that a castle in your world?” Aderyn asked.

“Sort of. And also definitely not.” Owen shook his head. “That is not what I expected to find here. I wonder if the interior is the same? That could give us an advantage.”

That brought Aderyn back to herself. She Assessed the dungeon.

Name: Winter’s Peril

Type: Intermediate dungeon, themed

Power Level: 12

Inhabitants: Unknown, ice type

Traps: Unknown, ice type

Reward: 1000 gold plus random treasure drops

Winter’s Peril is constructed of a cold-emitting material visually resembling ice that is neither frozen water nor stone and is therefore immune to elemental attacks. Moving beyond the initial area locks the front door until the dungeon is cleared.

Aderyn shared this information with her team. “It helps. I’m not sure how much it helps.”

“Well, now we know why Cadia had trouble,” Owen said. “The dungeon isn’t made of actual ice.”

“Yes, but the monsters are ice type,” Weston said, “and they wouldn’t be immune. Anyway, I say we go for it. We can go inside, look around the entrance, and leave if we change our minds. The door doesn’t lock unless you go past the entrance.”

“I’m going to be hampered,” Livia said. “I can’t manipulate earth if there’s no earth to manipulate. Mudball and stone sphere will work, but not root or immobilize or [Earth to Mud].”

“How much of a problem will that be?” Owen asked.

“I’m not sure. No more than if we were in an actual castle above ground level, I guess. Plus, I can still do this.” With a rush of displaced air, she vanished and reappeared twenty feet away, then returned. “Skip works anywhere.”

“Isold? You were the most skeptical. What do you think?” Owen asked.

“I’m still skeptical. But I think Weston is right that we ought to enter and get a better look at the place. The one thing we don’t know is how extreme the cold will be. It might drive us away faster than a monster would.” Isold put up the fur-trimmed hood of his coat. “Time to take a chance.”

Owen nodded. “Then let’s go.”

The crunch of the grass underfoot was more regular and more pleasant than it had been through the forest. Aderyn glanced over her shoulder once to see their footsteps in a line where the warmth of their boots had melted the frost. Already the cold was filling in the footsteps. She shivered. It was like being erased, and she didn’t need that kind of fanciful thinking when they were heading into danger.

They marched up the marble steps in a group, and Owen pushed down on the latch. The door swung inward on silent hinges. With Owen in the lead, they passed the threshold into Winter’s Peril.

Aderyn’s first impression was of white. A lot of white. The walls, ceiling, and marble floor were the kind of white you only saw after a first snowfall, before people walked on it and made it gray and mucky. They radiated whiteness as if lit from within. Her second impression was of cold. The walls radiated cold just as they did whiteness, as if they were despite what [Improved Assess 2] had told her made of solid ice. Her gratitude for her coat intensified.

High above, a structure of golden circles covered in crystals shed light across the floor and walls, completely unnecessary with as white as the walls were, but the crystals caught the light and scattered fragments of rainbows everywhere. Aderyn had never seen anything like it. The rainbows decorated two curving staircases that rose to a balcony off which was another pair of doors, these three times as tall as they were wide.

“Look at this,” Livia said. She stood beside a marble fountain basin with statues of a man and a woman dancing atop it. Both were apparently carved of ice, which meant more likely they were made of the dungeon’s own construction. Frozen water shot into the air and curved to land with a motionless splash in the frozen basin.

“No, over here,” Livia said when Aderyn came to look. Livia pointed at the far side of the fountain, where scorch marks and melted ice showed where fire had impacted on the fountain. The dancers remained unmarked, but part of the marble basin was blackened, and the frozen streams of water looked as if part of them had melted away before freezing over again.

“The stairs are slippery,” Weston said. He had an arm hooked around one of the bannisters and, as Aderyn watched, raised a foot to step on the first stair. His foot slipped like it was greased, and Weston stumbled and caught himself. “We’ll have to be careful if we want to get up there.”

“Do we want to get up there? There’s three other doors,” Aderyn pointed out. The entrance hall was rectangular, and there were doors in each of the four walls, three of them leading deeper into the dungeon, the fourth being the exit.

“I have a feeling we’re going to want to go up to reach the final boss,” Weston said. “Why go to all the trouble of having a second floor if there’s no reason to see it?”

“Let’s figure out the stairs, then,” Owen said.

After ten minutes, however, they had to call it a failure. Livia sprayed the steps with her [Elemental Blast] of earth, hoping to provide traction, but the earth skidded away as readily as their boots. The stairs also didn’t respond to iron spikes, which ricocheted off in what they all later agreed was an amusing fashion, but at the time was terrifying. Using ropes to haul themselves up was impossible, as there wasn’t anywhere for Weston’s spiked grappling hook to attach to.

Finally, Owen said, “I guess it’s time for Livia to do her vanishing act. Too bad she can’t take anyone with her.”

“Someday,” Livia said. “I’ll see what’s up there, at least.” She whooshed up to the balcony, flailed a little to get her balance, and called down, “It’s just as slippery at the top.”

“What’s beyond that door?” Owen said.

“Give me a second. Clairvoyance takes time to become clear.”

They waited. Finally Livia reappeared among them. “I saw a lot of figures. They looked like those—” She pointed at the dancing couple atop the fountain— “And they were moving around, fairly fast. That’s the best I could do.”

“Sounds like we want to avoid that room for now,” Owen said. “Livia, how about you use clairvoyance on these other doors?”

Everyone followed Livia around the room as she used her spell. She backed rapidly away from the door to the right. “It’s full of vines covered with thorns, big white ones, and they look poisonous.”

“Another miss,” Owen said.

The door at the back of the room, beneath the balcony, opened on a long, empty hall lined with doors. “Too many possibilities,” Owen said.

But the door on the left was promising. “An empty room full of furniture, and a door beyond that,” Livia said. “I think it’s worth trying if we decide to go further.”

“Which is the point we’ve reached,” Owen said. “So far, it’s been challenging but not terribly dangerous. Livia’s clairvoyance will give us a sneak peek at anything we’re not sure of. I think it’s worth the risk to get the <Wayfinder> back. But I’m not going to decide for all of us.”

“I’m in,” Aderyn said promptly.

“Me too,” Weston said. “What’s life without a little danger? And I think we’ve all forgotten that a thousand gold lies at the end of this dungeon. I can do a lot with a fifth of a thousand gold.”

Isold hesitated briefly. “My instincts say we should take the risk.”

Livia nodded. “I’ll be happy when it’s over, but I can endure losing some of my spells temporarily if it means retrieving the <Wayfinder>. I hate that we were vulnerable to Garet.”

“Then it’s settled,” Owen said. “Get ready for whatever’s behind that door.”

He put a hand on the latch and turned it. Behind them, the sharp sound of locks engaging told them Winter’s Peril was closed off. The only way out now was through. Owen pushed the door open and entered the room.

The room was empty of people or monsters. It also looked perfectly normal, with no ice or even frost covering the furniture. But there was a lot of furniture, all of it in a style Aderyn didn’t recognize: puffy overstuffed sofas and chairs with glossy carved wood frames, narrow tables with spindly curved legs, big heavy cabinets with glass doors. Paintings of sour-looking people hung on all the walls. It was such an unwelcoming room Aderyn would have turned around and left if Weston hadn’t been pressing in behind her.

“It’s a drawing room,” Owen said. “This is really unsettling. First Downton Abbey, and now a Downton Abbey drawing room. Who designs these dungeons?”

“They arise from the system, when conditions are right,” Isold said.

“But there’s no way this should have arisen naturally. No one in this world knows anything about mine.” Owen meandered through the room, occasionally touching the furniture in an absent way.

Movement caught Aderyn’s eye, something small that skittered along the strange boards nailed to the base of the wall. It vanished into a crack before she could Assess it. “How does the rug go all the way to the wall? I didn’t think anyone could weave a rug that precisely,” she said, walking over to peer at the crack.

“It’s wall-to-wall carpeting, and it’s cut to fit.” Owen approached Aderyn. “What are you looking at?”

“I’m not sure. Something moved.”

The small thing emerged from the crack. It was an insect, blue-white and gleaming with frost. Its tiny antennae twitched. Then there was another, and another, and suddenly insects were pouring out of the walls in a wave and headed straight for the team.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Aderyn shrieked and scrambled backward, but she wasn’t so overwhelmed she couldn’t Assess.

Name: Ice Roach

Type: Vermin swarm

Power Level: 6

Immune to: weapon damage, elemental damage earth, elemental damage air

Vulnerable to: elemental damage fire

Ice roaches attack in swarms, overwhelming their prey and paralyzing it with their ice auras before eating it alive.

No blue lines appeared. A red haze shrouded the insect swarm.

“Get out!” she screamed. “We can’t fight it!”

Owen was dragging her away, beating at the insects that crawled up both their legs. Freezing cold enveloped Aderyn’s feet and lower legs, making her stumble from the numbness. They all scrambled through the door, which Weston slammed shut, and then stomped on the few bugs that had clung to them. Each time she crushed a roach underfoot, a flash of cold shot through Aderyn’s foot. By the time they were sure all the bugs were dead, Aderyn had to sit and rub feeling back into her legs. Then she had to stand and rub feeling back into her behind from where the searing cold had penetrated her heavy trousers.

“Well, that was discouraging,” Owen said. “Our first encounter, and we run screaming like babies.”

“I promise we couldn’t fight it, Owen,” Aderyn said, and described what Assess had shown her. “That’s something Cadia definitely could have taken care of.”

“Which means she didn’t go that way,” Owen said, “unless the dungeon reset itself that quickly.”

“It must have, or it wouldn’t have let us in,” Isold said. “Imagine being able to clear a dungeon immediately after someone else went through and defeated all the monsters. You wouldn’t get any experience. How pointless.”

“Then—”

“What?” Aderyn prompted Owen.

“I don’t—well, I was wondering what happens to the bodies of the adventurers who die here.”

That question hadn’t occurred to Aderyn. “I don’t know.” Then a horrified thought struck her. “You don’t mean they might still be here?”

“I mean they had better still be here, because the <Wayfinder> is on Garet’s body, as far as we know. Suppose the dungeon gets rid of all the stuff it knows doesn’t belong to it?” Owen put a hand on Aderyn’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not like there’s anything we can do if that’s the case. We have to go on as if it’s possible to find it.”

Aderyn nodded, though she felt as numb as if the roaches had gotten inside her. The possibility that the <Wayfinder> might not be here after all they’d gone through made her sick. But Owen was right; they had to act like it was possible. “Where do we go now?” she asked.

“The empty hall,” Owen said. “If we can avoid the poisoned thorns, that’s better.”

The hall was dimly lit by steadily-glowing white balls of light set in glass sconces. “Electricity,” Owen said.

“It’s magic,” Livia said. “I can see it.”

Aderyn stopped, fascinated. Owen had talked about electricity before, but she’d always pictured big glass jars with streaks of lightning zapping through them. “This does look like magic,” she said, touching a ball of light and jerking her finger back when it turned out to be hot.

“Maybe it’s magic, but it’s replicating something that in my world, in places that look like this, runs on electricity.” Owen gestured to Livia. “Take a look through these doors.”

There were four doors in the hallway. Livia said the ones on the left were small and unoccupied. “They’ve got shelves and bags and barrels and so forth. I think they’re storage.” She checked the first door on the right and froze. “A lot of monsters,” she said. “Small, maybe the size of a cat, but they’ve got wings. They’re all flying around a big table, and there are more shelves.”

“Huh,” Owen said. “Then they haven’t heard us. Damn, I wish Aderyn could share your vision. Anyway, what about the last door?”

“It’s a kitchen, though all the furnishings and ovens look strange. There are more of the winged flying things,” Livia reported.

“We can probably take them,” Weston said. “If we can keep them penned up in the room. The ceilings aren’t that high, and they won’t be able to fly out of reach.”

“But once the fight starts, the others will come rushing in,” Aderyn said. “We need to lock or wedge one door so we only have to deal with one group at a time.”

“On it,” Weston said.

Aderyn studied the first door while Weston busied himself at the second. Owen wasn’t the only one who wished Livia’s clairvoyance could be shared. Suppose the monsters were more powerful than they guessed? What if they breathed cold or ice shards? She shook herself mentally. Worrying wouldn’t make the monsters easier to defeat.

“Ready,” Weston said. “I’m afraid I couldn’t block the latch permanently, so we should defeat these monsters as quickly as possible.”

Owen nodded. He threw the door open, and Aderyn and the others burst in.

It was a perfect surprise attack. The flying monsters paused in their circling flight. Tiny faces gazed in astonishment; tiny mouths fell open. It was more than enough time for Assess.

Name: Ice Imp

Type: Abomination

Power Level: 3

Immune to: elemental damage ice, elemental damage water

Vulnerable to: elemental damage fire

Ice imps breathe out cold that slows their prey as if affected by frostbite. Their primary attacks are claws and teeth.

Blue lines crossed the nearest ice imp body. Some intersected on a spot at the base of its wings; others made a bright blue spot on its belly. “Ice imps!” Aderyn shouted. Her voice boomed out, louder than her normal speaking voice thanks to [Amplify Voice]. “Aim for the belly, try to entangle or break their wings, and don’t let them breathe on you!”

Dimly, she was aware that Isold had begun singing his inspiring song, the one that improved his teammates’ ability to hit and to make those hits count. She dove forward to [Outflank] one of the flying horrors and was there in time for Owen to stab it through the belly, tearing downward with his sword to eviscerate the ice imp. Immediately, the system message flashed:

Congratulations! You have defeated [Ice Imp].

You have earned [125 XP].

Owen had already moved on. Aderyn slashed at his next target, which turned on her with vicious claws. For a moment, Aderyn saw the ghost of those claws come down, raking her face. With the memory of the spriggan stronghold fresh in mind, she dodged the immaterial attack. Half a breath later she saw the attack again, this time solidly real and striking where she’d been just a second ago. Aderyn grinned. She loved her skill [See It Coming]. She waited until the monster turned on Owen again, then slashed the ice imp across the base of its wings, making it spiral to the ground where Owen stabbed it through the heart.

The monster defeat messages were coming more rapidly now, and Aderyn took a moment to catch her breath, scanning the room for a new target. In the moment she saw a door she hadn’t noticed before, it banged open, and more ice imps streamed through, screaming to avenge their fallen fellows.

“Watch out!” she shouted, but that was all she had breath for, because now the fight was serious. She dodged a few more blows her skill warned her of, took a hit to the shoulder that didn’t do more than tear her heavy coat, and then walked right into the path of an ice imp’s breath attack. It felt like breathing in shards of ice, slicing her throat and lungs, and she gagged and stumbled backward. Her hands were numb enough she had to look to see that they were still gripping her sword.

She blinked, stepped forward, and swung her sword in time to meet an ice imp headed for Livia. Despite her weakened grip, the blow sliced deep into the ice imp’s stomach and sent it spiraling away to where Weston stabbed it through the eye. Her chest didn’t hurt as much anymore, but she still felt weak. That was a feeling she could indulge later, when the monsters were all dead.

Then Owen was at her side, saying her name and helping her to sit on one of the tiny stools surrounding the table. “You and Weston were both hit by the breath attack,” he was saying. “Isold says the effect will pass in about a minute. Just sit here and rest. Isold is harvesting their third eyes.”

“Third eyes?”

“It’s what fuels their breath attacks. Isold calls it a bezoar—sort of a stone formed by a living body, except for ice imps it turns into a blue diamond. They’re valuable as gems, not so much as magic items. Are you sure you’re all right?” Owen looked very concerned, and Aderyn wondered what she looked like to make him so worried.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just cold.” She flexed her fingers, which had been blue-tinged and were gradually returning to their normal color. Owen took her hands in his large, warm ones that felt like the best gloves in the world, comforting and relaxing.

“We killed seventeen of them. I know, they were only power level three, but all of them at once made for a more dangerous encounter.” Owen touched the shredded seam of her coat’s shoulder. “Livia got clawed, and so did Isold, but nothing the <Wand of Minor Healing> couldn’t handle. We did all right.”

“We did.” Her hands were warm, but she didn’t try to get free of Owen’s grasp, it felt so nice. “I wish we’d known about the second door.”

“Livia says it was beyond a couple of shelves, concealed from sight. She felt pretty awful about it. But we won, so no point casting blame, right?” Owen released her hands and helped her stand. “And I figured out how to clear the ice roach room.”

“You did? But it requires fire.”

Owen tapped the dainty chain he wore around his neck. “Fireball, remember? I’m trying to tell myself I couldn’t have used it while we were all in the room, but I feel stupid not remembering it earlier. I’ve been wearing this thing so long I barely feel it.”

His look of amused chagrin made Aderyn laugh. “It’s all right. We can go back.”

They found one more door at the end of the hall to the left. Livia looked through it. “It’s got a lot of those figures like on the fountain, only they’re walking around,” she said. “They’re unsettling. They move like people, but they can’t possibly be alive unless the dungeon can animate its construction. And if it can, we might be outclassed.”

“Let’s tackle the ice roaches and see what room is beyond that one,” Owen suggested.

They all waited a few paces back from the drawing room door while Owen detached one of the gold spheres from his <Necklace of Fireballs>. Swiftly, he opened the door, and when they heard the rush of chittering, hissing feet, he flung the sphere through the doorway and slammed the door shut.

A second later, they heard a distant whooomph sound, like a large mass of air shifting. The door rattled slightly on its hinges. Then:

Congratulations! You have defeated [Ice Roach Swarm].

You have earned [1125 XP].

Everyone cheered, though it was a more tired sound than usual. Owen opened the door and coughed as a cloud of dirty smoke roiled through the doorway. He waved his hands to clear the air. Beyond him, tiny flames burned the scorched furniture. “That was effective. Remind me to use that again sometime.”

“Sometime we’re not in the blast radius,” Weston said with a grin.

Chapter Thirty

They patted out all the small flames, just in case, before Livia looked through the second door with clairvoyance. “It’s the same room I saw back there just a minute ago,” she said. “There’s a big table, and a lot of those figures moving around.”

“We’re running out of options,” Owen said. “Do we tackle the dungeon’s ice creatures, or the poisoned thorns?”

“We don’t have any idea how those creatures will react. They might not be aggressive,” Aderyn said. “On the other hand, none of us are able to deal with poison.”

“But there are a lot of those figures, maybe ten or twelve, and if they are aggressive, they could be too much for us,” Livia said.

“What if Aderyn peeks inside to Assess them?” Weston suggested. “[Improved Assess 2] only takes a second or two. That won’t be enough time for those creatures to react.”

“Good idea,” Aderyn said. “Let me take a look.”

“I’ll examine the room while you’re doing that,” Weston said.

Owen held the door while they got into position, Aderyn kneeling on the floor, Weston looming over her. “Three seconds,” Owen said, “and then I shut it. Ready?”

He opened the door. Aderyn had a brief impression of white walls trimmed with streaks of gold before she focused on the moving figures. They looked like animate ice sculptures, but more elegant and streamlined than any she’d seen in the past—smoothly-surfaced naked male and female figures, simultaneously abstract in shape and so detailed they might have been people made of frozen water.

She Assessed them quickly, and then Owen shut the door and she sat back on her heels, stunned. “They’re not monsters,” she said. “I don’t think they are, anyway. [Improved Assess 2] called them ‘ice golems,’ but that was all, just the name. Otherwise, it didn’t reveal a thing, like they really are statues. But they’re clearly moving. I saw them walking around that table—I didn’t have time to look at the table.”

“I did,” Weston said. “It’s the biggest dining table I’ve ever seen, and the most elaborate. White lacquer, real gold trim. At least two dozen chairs that match. And it’s covered with platters of food and soup tureens and those tiered racks they serve fancy cakes on in elegant houses.”

“A banquet?” Owen said, perplexed. “What would be the point?”

“I don’t know. What I do know,” Weston said grimly, “is that the banquet has a guest. There’s someone sitting at the table at its far end. I couldn’t see what he or she was doing, but the figures were serving that person.”

“Maybe that’s who we have to fight, and not the ice golems,” Livia said. “It could be a low-level boss.”

“Or… what if it’s someone else? What if it’s someone from Cadia’s team?” Aderyn said. “We know Winter’s Peril defeated them, but we’ve defeated enemies before without killing them. Suppose they’re trapped here?”

“How likely is that?” Owen asked.

“Not likely, but not impossible,” Isold said. “Most of the time, if a team fails to clear a dungeon, they don’t die as a result. On the other hand, everyone we’ve spoken to has agreed that a defeat here is definitely a death.”

“We have to find out, one way or another,” Weston said. “I think it’s more likely that Livia is right, and this is the next challenge.”

“Let’s prepare for an assault, then,” Owen said. “Aderyn first to Assess the guy, and everyone spread out around her.”

“Don’t interfere with the ice golems,” Aderyn said, feeling inspired. “If they’re part of the dungeon, it might feel like that’s an attack on it.”

“Good point. Go after whoever that person is. Ready? Then go!”

The room was taller than Aderyn had been able to see in her earlier glance, tall and white with icicles hanging from the ceiling and the strange crystal-covered light fixtures. The figure at the far end of the table was dressed all in white, with a trailing white hood and white gloves. Aderyn Assessed the person and shouted, “Stop! It’s not alive!”

Owen and Weston had passed her and paused, weapons raised, at her words. Owen lowered his sword and walked forward, bending to look at the figure’s face. “It’s Talandra,” he said. “She’s frozen.”

The others gathered around. Talandra’s formerly dark skin was pure white and dusted with ice crystals. Her open eyes revealed eyeballs filmed over with a layer of ice. Even her black hair was gray thanks to what looked like a fall of snow over her head and back.

Aderyn felt something prod her shoulder. She glanced back and swallowed a shriek. One of the ice golems stood there, bearing a tureen of what smelled like beef broth. Aderyn automatically stepped out of its way, and it ladled soup into a bowl at Talandra’s right hand.

The others had all stepped back, too. “That smells amazing. Where does it come from?” Weston said.

“The kitchen, maybe,” Livia said. “I can barely smell anything, it’s so cold in here.”

“Can’t you? That’s like the best consommé in the world.” Weston circled Talandra so he was close enough to bend over and sniff the bowl. “And look at all of this. It’s making me hungry.”

Aderyn and Owen exchanged alarmed glances. “Weston, you can’t eat this. It’s enchanted food in a malevolent dungeon,” Aderyn said.

“The food is just food. You can see that. It’s the room that’s enchanted.” Weston reached out to take a small iced cake from the nearest tiered tray.

Owen grabbed his hand. “We have to get out of here.”

Weston wrenched away. “I don’t know what your problem is. It’s just food.”

“Food that probably killed Talandra,” Owen said.

Weston pulled a chair away from the table. “I’m—”

Aderyn grabbed it and tried to take it away from him, but it was like wrestling a mountain. “We have to get him out of here!”

“How?” Livia said. She threw her arms around his waist and pushed. “Weston, listen to me! You have to stop!”

“Sweetheart, let me get you one of these cakes,” Weston said.

Owen and Aderyn joined in trying to drag Weston away from the table. The enormous Moonlighter didn’t react at all to their efforts. All around them, the dungeon’s ice golems continued in their endless rounds of bringing food for nonexistent guests—and one very real one.

Aderyn stepped away. “This is stupid,” she said, and Assessed the table. Bright green light outlined its lines and the various dishes on it.

Name: Trap of Gluttony

Type: Ice damage

Power Level: 10

Sitting at the table and consuming food causes the victim to freeze from the inside out. Once triggered, the trap can only be deactivated by removing the victim from its area of influence.

“It won’t stop until we get him away from the table,” she exclaimed.

“Any idea how we can do that short of killing him?” Owen grunted. He and Weston and Livia appeared to be wrestling now, but Weston was inching closer to the table with every passing second.

“I can try something,” Isold said.

He put himself between Weston and the table. “Let’s all sit and eat. We deserve a break,” he said.

“What?” Owen exclaimed.

“Now you’re making sense,” Weston said.

“In fact, this room seems very secure. I think we can set up camp here,” Isold went on. “But we’ll need to retrieve the rest of our belongings. We shouldn’t leave them outside for monsters to take or destroy.”

Weston stopped fighting Owen and Livia. “I forgot. We should do that.”

“Let’s all get our things and return here for a much-deserved meal.” Isold, never losing eye contact with Weston, retreated to the nearer door, not the one they’d entered by but the one close to the ice imps’ kitchen. Weston followed him. He looked perfectly normal, not as if a curse had its hooks into him.

Slowly, Aderyn and Owen and Livia followed, but Owen grabbed Aderyn’s arm and brought her to a halt. “Go back the other way and make sure that door is shut. Maybe drag a couch in front of it.”

Aderyn nodded and hurried back to the still-smoking drawing room. She shut the door and, after a moment’s examination of the room, shoved and pushed until a heavy cabinet slid in front of the door, blocking it almost entirely from view. As she did, a system message appeared.

You have received [6000 XP] for defeating the [Trap of Gluttony].

Relieved, she ran through the entry and down the long hall to where Weston was rubbing his head and swearing, long and loud. “I don’t even love food all that much,” he exclaimed.

“Every adventurer is vulnerable or resistant to traps according to their personality and experience,” Isold said.

“And you failed your will save,” Owen said. “Sorry, I’ll stop being an otherworlder. It looks like we’ve run out of options, huh? Let’s go look at the spiky hall.”

The door to the hall filled with white thorns was locked. Weston poked at the lock for a few seconds before saying, “That’s weird. The key is still in the lock on the far side.”

“What does that mean?” Livia asked.

“It might mean someone is in there, or it might be a hint that this door should stay locked.” Weston stepped back and surveyed the door. Then he knelt and examined the gap between the door and the marble floor. “Unfortunately for Winter’s Peril, I am terrible at taking hints. Everybody step back a bit.”

The others all immediately took long steps back. Weston laughed. “I meant give me better light. It’s not going to explode. Probably.” He opened his knapsack and pulled out a book the width of his two palms, bound in ordinary brown leather, that Aderyn thought might be a diary. Carefully, he tore out the last page and put the book away.

“This could still fail,” he said. “But at worst, I’ll have to pick the lock with the lovely new picks I inherited from my good friend Garet.” He slid the paper beneath the door and positioned it so it was directly beneath the lock, with about an inch of paper still showing. Then he inserted a lockpick into the keyhole and pushed, slowly. Something hit the floor with a clink. Weston slid the paper toward himself, bringing with it a small, tarnished silver key.

“It’s an old trick my mother taught me,” he said when Livia exclaimed. “About half the time, the key bounces off the paper and you’re out of luck. But it’s impressive when it works, right?”

Weston unlocked the door and put the key in his belt pouch. “Let’s see what’s in there,” he said, and pulled open the door.

Fat white thorns on vines as big around as Aderyn’s wrist filled the dark hallway, seeming grayer the farther away they were. Little drops of green fluid glistened at the tips of some of the thorns. Walking past without getting scratched would be difficult.

“Is this a trap?” Owen asked.

Aderyn Assessed the hall. No green light appeared. Instead, she saw:

Name: Fanged Death

Type: Magical beast

Power level: 11

It was all she had time to read before a huge white shape gathered itself from where it lay coiled on the floor and slithered toward her, gaining speed as it came.

Chapter Thirty-One

Someone grabbed her and hauled her out of the way as Weston slammed the door shut. A moment later, something hit the door with a resounding thump that rattled it on its hinges. Everyone shouted in alarm and leaned against the door. Another thump, less violent, and a loud serpentine hiss set Aderyn’s skin tingling with fear.

“What was that?” Owen said. His arm was still around Aderyn’s waist.

“Fanged Death,” Aderyn gasped. “It’s called Fanged Death. It’s a named monster.”

“It’s a big-ass snake is what it is,” Owen said. “I think we have a problem.”

They stood together in a semicircle, staring at the door as if the answer to the problem was written on it. “Did you learn anything else, Aderyn?” Owen asked.

Aderyn reviewed what she’d seen but not processed. “It’s a magical beast, power level eleven. It’s venomous, immune to ice attacks, but not vulnerable to fire. I think that means it can be hurt by fire, but doesn’t take any extra damage from it. It looked like it was six feet tall. It wasn’t actually that big, was it? I was imagining things?”

“It was easily that big. That hall must be longer than I guessed.” Weston was breathing heavily. “Can we lob a fireball inside and let it do the job?”

“If it doesn’t kill the snake outright, it will just piss it off,” Livia said. “And I’m betting on a named monster of power level eleven being harder to kill than a swarm of roaches.”

They fell silent. Aderyn wished she could sit. Residual fear had caught up to her, and her legs shook. But sitting meant freezing her ass off, so she paced instead.

“Two problems,” she said, thinking out loud. “The hall of poisoned thorns. The giant snake. We deal with one, and we still have to deal with the other.”

“You sound like you have an idea,” Isold said.

“Not really. Just—we can’t get rid of the thorns until the snake is dead, so we have to face the snake first. Too bad it’s immune to their poison. At least, I assume it is, or it couldn’t live in there.”

“It doesn’t have to be dead, just out of the way,” Owen said. “Which is fortunate for us, because I think we’re amazing, but we’re not level eleven snake killing amazing. Sorry if that’s insufficiently heroic.”

“It is pragmatic,” Isold said. “In another few levels, I will be able to mesmerize creatures, but that doesn’t do us any good now.”

“Get it out of the way,” Aderyn mused. “Oh! I know how we can lure it out. But it won’t last long, and it still doesn’t resolve the issue of the thorns.”

“How do we lure it out?” Owen asked.

Aderyn dipped her hand into her knapsack and felt around until her fingers fell on the hard cube of the <Ruckus Box>. “We make a really big noise for it to chase. But eventually it will figure out the trick, and we’ll be back where we started, except the snake will be out of its hall and free to attack us.”

“That gives me another idea,” Owen said.

ADERYN HELD the <Ruckus Box> to her lips and whispered the word “Fight” across its perforated top. The box warmed palpably beneath her chilled fingers. She rotated the box once and whispered “Three minutes.” Its surface cooled until she could barely feel any difference between her skin and the metal.

Carefully, she wedged the box atop a cabinet at the far end of the drawing room and then, leaving the door open, ran back to where her friends waited, concealed behind the damaged fountain. Weston wasn’t with them; he stood with his hand on the door to Fanged Death’s hall, counting down. Now Aderyn wondered if a three-minute timer had been too long. They’d needed time to get into position, and time for Weston to open the door so the snake would have a clear line of attack, but it still felt like an eternity.

She also wasn’t sure they were adequately concealed. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Weston’s skills, but if the snake saw them, no amount of distraction from the <Ruckus Box> would save them. She made herself relax. The plan would work. Worrying wouldn’t improve their chances.

Weston was only vaguely visible as an outline thanks to the concealing powers of the <Cloak of Mists>. Aderyn stopped trying to watch him, because that just made her eyes water. Instead, she watched the doorknob. That would be the sign that the plan was in motion. Too soon, or too late—no. No more worrying.

The doorknob turned, and the door swung silently open, as slowly as if the wind and not a human hand moved it. Aderyn held her breath. She heard the hiss of scales against stone, gradually drawing nearer. Then, someone in the drawing room shouted, and steel clashed against steel, and the shouts multiplied into a vicious, noisy fight.

The hissing noise sped up, and Fanged Death emerged from the hall. Aderyn bit back a cry of fear. The snake’s head was taller than Weston, with fangs the length of Aderyn’s forearm, and its body was pure white shading to pale blue in its curves. It slithered swiftly past the fountain, focused on the distant fight. It was so long its tail didn’t fully emerge until its head was halfway across the wide entrance chamber.

Owen crouched, balanced easily on the balls of his feet, clutching one of the gold spheres in his hand. When the snake was almost entirely within the drawing room, he jumped up and ran to where he had a clear shot at the thorn-filled hall. He threw the sphere and dropped to the floor.

A perfect blossom of fire roared out of the hall, passing over Owen’s head and vanishing in a smell of roasted vines. Weston, with the hood of his cloak thrown back so he was visible, ran to Owen’s side and helped him to his feet. Aderyn, Livia, and Isold were already running for the hall. It was black inside, both from lack of light and from the soot crusting the remains of the poisonous vines, but they all tumbled inside gratefully.

Weston and Owen reached the door seconds after they did. Aderyn, looking past them, screamed a warning. Fanged Death had managed to turn around in the smaller space of the drawing room and was racing back toward them. Owen rushed through, followed by Weston, who hauled the door shut, leaving them in total darkness. Again, the door thumped as Fanged Death flung itself bodily against the wood. Aderyn clutched someone’s hand and froze, feeling insanely that if she was very still, like a terrified mouse, the snake couldn’t find her. The door thumped again, harder. She heard the click of the lock, and suddenly all was silent.

“I don’t know if that mattered,” Weston said in the darkness. “But I figured, the door was locked before… but we’re on this side now, so probably not.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Owen said.

A light blossomed, and Aderyn realized it was Livia’s hand she was holding. A small orb of light filled the Earthbreaker’s other hand and then floated into the air, where it burned steadily. Aderyn let go of Livia and breathed deeply, then wished she hadn’t when the stink of charred vegetation filled her lungs. All the vines were dead, drooping sadly from the walls and ceiling, and she saw no more signs of poison. The hall itself wasn’t very big, certainly not big enough to contain a snake the size of Fanged Death. Aderyn decided not to ask questions.

Weston was already examining the nearest door. “It’s not locked. Probably the dungeon felt Fanged Death was enough of a guardian.”

“No surprise there,” Owen said. “Let’s take a look.”

Pale sunlight met their eyes when Weston opened the door. All of them crowded inside, staring in amazement at the window. “That’s impossible,” Weston said. “I’ve been keeping track, and there’s no way this is an exterior room.”

“Dungeons are strange,” Isold said. “What is this? It looks like a library.”

“It’s a study, or a den,” Owen said. He walked around the desk at the center of the room, surveying the bookcases and the glass-topped cabinets. “At least, it would be in my world. What language are those books in?”

“Ours,” Isold said. “And some of them are valuable.”

“Magical?” Aderyn asked.

“No,” Isold and Livia said in unison. “Just old and rare,” Isold went on. He removed another book, let out a cry of pain, and dropped it. “It bit me.”

“Bit you?” Owen reached to pick up the dropped book and jerked his hand away from a row of teeth that showed along the bottom of the spine. “It’s alive!”

“It’s a Guardian Tome,” Aderyn said, reading what [Improved Assess 2] told her. “They watch over libraries. It’s only power level one and easily subdued. No, don’t kill it!”

“Are we supposed to leave the books alone?” Isold said. He sounded disappointed.

“No, I think we can take the valuable ones, we just have to subdue the Guardian Tomes—look, there are two more. Lock them in the cabinet.”

Congratulations! You have defeated [Guardian Tome].

You have received [15 XP].

“See?” Aderyn exclaimed.

“I wasn’t going to destroy a book, Aderyn,” Owen said with a smile. “Even if it did try to eat Isold.”

“It’s not the worst book-related injury I’ve ever sustained,” Isold said. He searched the shelves rapidly, removing a book here and there until he had a stack of eight. “Too bad these are too large to fit in the <Purse of Great Capacity>. If we had space, I would want to take three times as many. But this will have to do.”

“Maybe we need to find something like that,” Weston said. “Imagine how much treasure we could carry if Aderyn’s purse was the size of my knapsack.”

“Something to daydream about when we’re out of here,” Livia said, patting Weston’s cheek fondly. “Now, what’s behind that other door?”

The second door led to a room as dimly lit as the study had been bright. No windows let in sunlight; the walls and ceiling were paneled in dark, deep-grained wood. Aderyn saw a wolf and gasped, then laughed weakly. “It’s a trophy room,” she said. “Ew.”

The heads of many animals decorated the walls, not just wolves, but bears, deer, elk, and one very angry-looking leopard. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to save these,” Aderyn mused. “Why be so proud of killing animals when monsters are much harder? Of course, you couldn’t mount a monster head. They decay too fast.”

“What is this odd table?” Weston asked. The wooden table at the room’s center had a sunken top covered in green cloth, with holes at each corner and along the longer sides. Colorful balls lay scattered across it, and a couple of long poles stood propped against its side.

“It’s a pool table,” Owen said. “Don’t touch it. Those balls are probably rigged to go off. Explode, I mean. It would fit the way things have been going.”

“It doesn’t look like a pool,” Aderyn said.

“It’s a game. You hit the balls with those sticks and make them hit other balls and try to get your ball in one of the pockets.” Owen looked like he wanted to try his luck despite his own warning. “I’m pretty good at it.”

“There’s no other door,” Isold said. “We should look for a secret exit.”

All of them split up, searching the room. Aderyn examined a tall wooden cabinet full of sparkling glasses that looked like faceted crystals and glass decanters filled with various liquids. “I keep forgetting this is part of the dungeon,” she said. “It looks like such a comfortable room. They all have seemed… not welcoming, of course, but if they were somewhere other than a dungeon, and not freezing cold, I’d want to stay.”

“This would be the room where people gathered to relax and play games, so that makes sense,” Owen said.

Weston joined Aderyn at the drinks cupboard. “See if you can help me move this,” he said. The two of them tried to lift the cupboard, rattling the glasses, but nothing happened. Aderyn stepped away. “You need someone stronger than me.”

“No, this is attached to the wall. I think our secret exit is behind it.” Weston ran his fingers along where the cupboard met the wall, then drew his belt knife and picked at the seam. “It’s too close to fit a knife blade through. Give me a minute.” He ran the tip of the knife along the edge of the cupboard with no visible effect.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Aderyn asked.

“If this doesn’t work, we’ll need to empty the cupboard. For now…” His voice trailed off like he was too distracted for speech. Aderyn decided to leave him to his work. Soon enough, he’d figure out the secret door, and then… anything could be behind it.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Aderyn retreated to stand next to Owen. He was still staring at the pool table. The name made sense if you figured the top of the table was deep enough to fill with water and make a shallow pool, except all the water would drain out of the holes, so it wouldn’t be a very good one. Also, the green was too bright a color. “Why is it called a pool table?”

“The game is called pool, or billiards,” Owen replied absently. “I don’t know anything about the history of the names, unfortunately. Where I come from, it’s a two-player game, and each of you have one set of billiard balls—see how some are a solid color and some are striped? And the idea is to sink your own—”

“In the pool?”

Owen chuckled. “No. It means make them fall into the pockets. The holes. And last you have to sink the black one, the eight-ball.” He pointed. “But there are other games, and you can bet on trick shots. I won a lot of beer money shooting pool.” He wandered to the far side of the pool table and leaned over so his face was level with the green surface. Aderyn watched him line up his hand with several of the balls. She shrugged and went back to watching Weston examine the secret door.

“Livia, I need more light, please,” Weston said. Livia summoned another orb of light and sent it sailing through the air to hover above Weston’s head. Weston nodded thanks. “I’m still not seeing the mechanism. Let’s empty the cupboard. Maybe it’s inside.”

“I have another idea,” Owen said. He picked up one of the long sticks and rested it on his shoulder. “This table is set up exactly for a trick shot. I want to know what happens when I make it.”

“When you make it? Isn’t that if you make it?” Livia said. “Not to be critical or anything.”

“I have confidence in my abilities.” Owen strolled around the table and leaned over, setting his left hand on the fat edge above the green surface. He rested the stick on that hand and gripped it with his right hand, aiming the white tip of the stick at the one white ball on the table. “And it’s a matter of hitting the ball… there.”

With one smooth movement, he thrust the stick forward like a rapier impaling a target. It struck the white ball with a soft tock and sent it speeding across the green cloth. Aderyn watched in amazement as the ball caromed off the cloth-covered sides and shot between the colored balls without touching any of them, gradually losing momentum until with another tock it struck the black ball. The black ball rolled toward one of the corner holes, slower and slower, and Aderyn was sure it wouldn’t fall in. It reached the rim of the hole, hesitated, and dropped out of sight.

With a click, the drinks cupboard popped away from the wall.

You have discovered a secret door! Your reward is [900 XP].

Owen twirled the stick and set it back down next to its partner. “I’m really glad I didn’t miss that shot. Think how ridiculous I would look.”

“I’m so impressed,” Aderyn said. “I wish we had these in taverns in this world. We’d never have to pay for drinks again.”

“Maybe we can arrange something,” Owen said with a smile.

Weston pulled the door open and glanced inside. “It’s… actually, it doesn’t look like anything. Come on.”

They passed through the secret door, one at a time, until they all entered the hall beyond. Weston was right; it didn’t look like anything much. It didn’t have the wooden paneling of the game room or the brightly-lit windows and bookcases of the study. Aderyn couldn’t tell if its flat gray walls were painted or if they were an extremely boring wood. The ceiling was low and the same color as the walls and floor. Aderyn Assessed it: nothing. It might well have been an unfinished part of the dungeon.

Owen gestured. “Spread out. The hall isn’t very wide, so maybe it won’t matter, but I don’t like how we’re all grouped neatly for someone to try that fireball trick on us.”

Aderyn obediently stepped to one side, not too far from Owen in case being separated was the danger. Stepping cautiously, they walked down the hall, following Livia’s orbs of light. Nothing changed. They passed nothing that might distinguish one part of the hall from another. After about a minute, Aderyn said, “How sure are we that we’re moving?”

Isold reached into his belt pouch and drew out a length of charcoal pencil. He drew a line at head height on the wall to his left. “Let’s see.”

They started walking again. Immediately, they left the mark behind. Aderyn’s relief was short-lived when after thirty seconds they came upon the same mark. “So it is a trick,” she said.

“No trick,” said a drawling voice from ahead of them. “It’s all part of the experience, love. You’d be surprised how many adventurers never figure it out.”

The empty hall ahead started to fill with white smoke that roiled and churned as if stirred by a wind they couldn’t feel. It stopped about ten feet away from the team, still roiling, but like it was confined by a glass wall. Slowly, the smoke solidified until Aderyn was looking at a face. It wasn’t a human face; it had oversized eyes like a horse, a beak-like nose, and waves and waves of hair and beard surrounding it in an oval. Only the mouth was human, full-lipped and sensual. It reminded Aderyn of a wood carving, though one painted white that shaded to pale blue in its crevices. She thought of Fanged Death and shivered in remembered fear.

The mouth opened. “Congratulations on making it this far,” the drawling voice said. “It’s a pity you won’t make it any farther.”

“You’re awfully confident of that,” Owen said, stepping forward so he was between Aderyn and the face. “Are you that powerful?”

Aderyn took the hint and Assessed the face.

Name: Riddling Door

Type: Anomaly

Power Level: Exceeds authority limit

“I am so powerful I could sweep all of you away with one breath,” the Riddling Door said. “I won’t, of course, because that’s not part of the game.”

“And what’s the game?”

“Riddles,” Aderyn said. “We have to answer riddles.”

The Riddling Door’s full lips pouted. “I was about to say that, young Warmaster. Don’t ruin other people’s fun. It’s rude.”

“Sorry,” Aderyn said automatically. “I’m right, though, aren’t I?”

“You are correct,” the door said, putting the faintest emphasis on correct like Aderyn had used the wrong word. “The five of you must answer three riddles in order to gain entrance to the second level of Winter’s Peril. If you fail, I will devour you.” A long, bluish-white tongue flicked in and out between the lips. “By the look of you, I’ll be eating well today.”

“Don’t count on it,” Owen said. “What are the rules?”

“You want rules?” The door laughed. “Sure. You can discuss the answers among yourselves if you want. If you get one wrong, you are allowed to ask me a riddle, and if I can’t answer it, it counts as a correct answer for you. But you only get one pass. Understand?”

Aderyn’s heart sank. She was terrible at riddles. They always depended on you thinking about a question at least two different ways. Well, Isold was clever, and Owen probably knew a lot of riddles from his own world they could stump the door with, and it did say they could discuss among themselves, so it wasn’t like their future depended on her.

“Are you ready?” the Riddling Door asked. It sounded eager and smug at the same time, like it knew there was no hope for the companions.

“Go ahead,” Owen said.

The Riddling Door cleared its throat, a sound like gargling river stones. “Here is the first riddle: I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I’m invisible, but you can call for me. What am I?”

“An echo,” Isold said promptly.

Everyone stared at him. The door’s unnaturally large eyes widened, and its lips curved in a pout. “That was too easy,” it said, with a petulant whine to its drawling voice. “It’s not fair. You’re supposed to talk about your answer first.”

“I’m sorry, but I knew that one,” Isold said, not even trying not to sound smug. “I’m sure they won’t all be that easy.”

“You can bet they won’t be,” the Riddling Door said. “Here’s the second one: Sometimes narrow, sometimes wide, wind or rain, I stay outside. Even if there’s heat or snow, from house to house I will still go. What am I?”

“Why does that one rhyme?” Livia asked.

“Some of them do. It’s too hard, right? Do you want to give up?” the door said. If it had had hands, it would have rubbed them in excitement.

“Of course not. We have to talk about it,” Owen said.

The friends gathered close together. “Something immune to heat and cold,” Weston said. “Something that stays outside. A dragon?”

“Not all dragons are immune to the elements,” Isold said. “What creature travels between houses no matter the weather?”

“Horses,” Aderyn said. “No, that’s stupid. Horses are all about the same width.”

“Give up yet?” the door asked.

“No,” the friends all said in unison.

“I’d say ‘the mailman,’ but you don’t have a postal service,” Owen said. “It’s ‘sometimes narrow, sometimes wide’ I’m not sure about.”

“Well, a carriage can be wide or narrow, and they travel from house to house, and they stay outside regardless of the weather,” Isold said.

“That makes sense,” Weston said. “As much sense as any of this, at least.”

They returned to the door. “The answer is ‘carriage,’” Owen said.

“Wrong!” the Riddling Door crowed. “It’s ‘path.’ Get it? How it goes between houses, narrow or wide?”

All the friends groaned. This was the other thing Aderyn hated about riddles, how stupid you felt when you learned the answer and it was blindingly obvious.

“Do you want to try to stump me?” the door said. “You get one chance to redeem yourselves.”

“All right, I’ve got one,” Owen said. “It goes like this: A box without hinges, key, or a lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.”

“Easy!” the Riddling Door exclaimed. “It’s…” It stopped speaking. After a few seconds, it said, “That’s not a real riddle.”

“Of course it is. It’s famous where I come from.”

“I know every riddle in the world, and that’s not one of them. You made it up.” The door was back to sounding pouty again.

“You didn’t say we couldn’t make them up,” Owen pointed out. “Besides, I didn’t. It’s a real riddle with a real answer. Are you saying you can’t guess the answer?”

The door fell silent again. Its lips moved as if it was working through a difficult puzzle. Finally, it said, “I give up. What is the answer?”

“Does that mean we have two successes now?” Owen asked.

“Sure, yes, fine, just tell me the answer!”

“It’s an egg,” Owen said.

The Riddling Door’s mouth fell open. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does. The shell is a box with no hinges, no key, and no lid to open. The yolk is the golden treasure.” Owen grinned. “Good, huh?”

“Much better than a Swordsworn ought to be capable of,” the door said grumpily.

“I crib from the best. Go on, give us the final one.”

“Owen, don’t be cocky,” Aderyn warned.

“I’m not, I’m just feeling confident.” Owen rolled out his shoulders like he meant to fight the door in hand-to-hand combat.

“All right.” The door’s voice went back to being relaxed and drawling. “Here is your final riddle: What is there one of in every corner and two of in every room?”

Owen stilled. “One of in every corner, but two of in every room?”

“That’s right. Go ahead, talk it out. You won’t guess.” The drawl sounded triumphant now.

Again, the team gathered together away from the Riddling Door. “A room has four corners,” Owen said. “How can there be one of something in each corner but only two in the room?”

“Maybe it means something that comes in pairs,” Weston said.

“Or it might be an edge,” Isold said, then shook his head. “No, that doesn’t work.”

“An inside and an outside?” Livia suggested.

Aderyn stayed quiet. None of those sounded right. Sure, there would be an answer, but riddles were tricky. They were never about what you thought they were about. One in a corner, two in a—

The answer came to her with such bold certainty it took her breath away. “I know the answer,” she said, cutting across whatever Weston was saying. “I never get these, but I know this one.”

“Well?” Owen asked.

She looked past him at the Riddling Door. “It’s the letter O.”

The door said nothing.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Aderyn persisted. “There’s one O in ‘corner’ and two in ‘room.’ That’s the answer.”

The door muttered something.

“Sorry, what was that?” Aderyn asked.

“I said lucky guess,” the door repeated in a grouchy tone.

Isold let out a long hiss of a breath. Owen hugged Aderyn and Livia hugged Weston. “That was amazing,” Owen murmured in Aderyn’s ear. “Nice save.”

“I’ll probably never get another riddle right in my life,” Aderyn replied.

“All right, you win,” the Riddling Door said. “No need to rub my face in it. And I’ve got a big face.”

With a creak just like the door was a real door, the Riddling Door swung inward on invisible hinges, revealing another large white room similar to the dining room. “Good luck, and don’t look yourself in the eye,” it said, and vanished. Aderyn, who’d turned to ask what the creature meant, was sidetracked by the system message:

Congratulations! You have defeated [Riddling Door].

You have earned [7000 XP].

“Seven thousand,” Owen said. “Damn.”

“And still no level nine,” Weston said. “Not that I’m counting.”

“I choose to be grateful we escaped with our lives,” Isold said.

Where the Riddling Door had been was now an ornately gilded door three times higher than it was wide. “Where are we?” Aderyn asked.

“The room beyond the top of the balcony,” Livia, who was facing the other way, said. “I remember all the movement. They’re dancing.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Aderyn turned her back on the ornately gilded door and scanned the room. It was much larger than the dining room, with frost-covered sconces holding torches that burned blue-white and a floor that looked made of the same material as the servants, like a sheet of unmarred glass. Large round niches held bas-relief carvings of small dragons—no, drakes, one on each of the walls facing the door.

And the room was full of dancing couples, every one of them a perfect humanoid figure, male or female. They didn’t pay any attention to the companions as they sailed through the figures of the dance. Aderyn watched them, breathless. She’d never seen anything so beautiful.

Beside her, Owen stilled. His hand gripped her arm. “What’s that over there? On the floor? It looks like—” He set out to circle the ballroom, staying well clear of the dancing ice golems. Aderyn followed him.

The closer they got to the dark shape, the more worried Aderyn became. It did look like a motionless person, a real person, not a glass sculpture. She knew what they would find, but she didn’t want to believe it. Which meant it was still a surprise to find Cadia crumpled on the glass floor, her eyes open and staring, her body limp.

Owen knelt beside her. Cadia didn’t just look limp, she looked crushed, like she’d been hit by one of Livia’s stone spheres. Blood smeared the glass floor, which was otherwise completely unmarred. If a stone had crushed Cadia, it hadn’t damaged the glass.

“So, what happened to Dashan and Garet?” Aderyn glanced around the room. Weston and Livia were examining the door leading to the balcony. She hoped they wouldn’t open it, since Fanged Death was probably still in the entrance hall and would likely have no trouble ascending the iced-over stairs. Isold had approached one of the three niches and was looking at the drake carved there. All Aderyn’s instincts screamed a warning.

“Isold, move!” she shouted. [Amplify Voice] filled the ballroom with her shout. The dancers whirled on, oblivious, but the drake raised its head, stretched itself, and took off into the air. Isold barely had time to throw himself out of the way as it reared back on its haunches and spat a hail of needle-like ice crystals at him.

The spray of needles struck the glass floor and ricocheted everywhere. Isold cried out in pain and grabbed his leg. Blood seeped around his fingers. The drake wheeled and swung back for another attack, but Owen was already darting past the dancers, avoiding touching them in a series of movements that looked like a dance of its own. Aderyn tried following him, but bumped against one of the dancers, knocking it off balance.

The ice golem turned smoothly and slammed the flat of its palm against Aderyn’s chest, sending her flying. She struck the wall and sagged, gasping for breath. Above, one of Livia’s stone spheres barely missed the ice drake—no, it was a second drake that had joined the first. Aderyn got to her feet. She’d landed just inches from Cadia’s body, and now she had a good idea of what had killed the Flamecrafter.

Limping slightly, she made her way around the dancers, staying well out of their path. “Don’t hit the dancers,” she shouted. “The dungeon strikes back through them!”

“We need to get those little dragons down here,” Owen yelled. “Aderyn, Assess!”

That impact against the wall had stunned her more than she’d realized. Embarrassed, she focused on the nearest drake and Assessed it.

Name: Ice Drake

Type: Dragon

Power level: 5

Immune to: elemental water damage, elemental ice damage

Vulnerable to: elemental fire damage

Ice drakes breathe sprays of ice needles that break off in the wound and cause greater damage unless extracted or until they melt. Additional attacks include claws, teeth, and tail.

Blue lines slid across the little dragon’s body and focused into spots of light on its chest and belly.

“Avoid their breath attack, and watch out for tail, teeth, and claws!” she shouted. “Go for the chest and soft underbelly. And if you can think of a way to bring them down to earth—”

“Isold!” Weston shouted.

Isold was on his feet again, standing perfectly still and facing one of the ice drakes that hung in the air, idly flapping its wings to stay in place, not two feet from him. He was singing a quiet lullaby and gesturing frantically for Aderyn and Owen. Aderyn sprinted around the dancers, following Owen, and skidded to a halt near the ice drake. Isold’s wide eyes told her what he wanted. She and Owen struck as one, Aderyn driving deep into the creature’s belly, Owen thrusting for the heart. The creature let out a cry and fell to the ground.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Ice Drake].

You have earned [750 XP].

Isold sagged. “That was close.” His leg still bled freely.

“Get into a corner and bind that up,” Owen said. “Sing if you can.”

Isold nodded. Aderyn got her shoulder under his arm and helped him limp-run to the nearest corner. A crash behind her told her Livia had cast stone sphere again. Aderyn turned in time to see a hail of black iron spikes fly through the air at another of the ice drakes. It dropped low to avoid the missiles, and Weston struck and hit its leg. The creature squealed in pained fury and breathed ice crystal needles at Weston. Weston dropped and rolled out of the way. The ice drake sailed higher than before, out of reach.

Aderyn hurried to Owen’s side. He held one of the gold fireball spheres between his fingers and looked to be waiting for his moment. “Owen, is that—” she began.

Owen let fly the sphere. It glowed white hot and expanded to the size of one of Livia’s stone spheres. He’d timed his throw perfectly; the ice drake he’d been tracking flew right into the fireball’s path, unable to do more than shriek in surprise and flap wildly to try to avoid it. The fireball exploded, and its heat caressed Aderyn’s face for a very welcome five seconds. The charred body of the drake hit the ground at her feet.

Congratulations! You have defeated [Ice Drake].

You have earned [750 XP].

“Watch out!” Weston shouted.

Owen grabbed Aderyn and threw them both out of the path of a stone sphere. It flew past and impacted against one of the dancing couples. The sphere shattered, making Aderyn throw up her arms to protect her face from flying shards. Dimly, she was aware that Isold was singing, and she felt more confident, but that confidence ebbed when she realized the ice golems Livia had hit had left the pattern of the dance and were headed her way.

Impulsively, Aderyn Assessed the dancers. Again, she saw nothing, not even [Exceeds authority limit], just Name: Ice Golem. They moved, they had some awareness, they were able to do damage, but they weren’t monsters?

She backed away into Owen, who grabbed her hand and towed her along after him. “I think I know what happened to Cadia,” Owen said. “I doubt she was any more careful in here than she was on the road. One loose fireball or [Elemental Blast], or one blow to those creatures—”

“We’re going to look like her if we don’t think of something!” Aderyn shouted. The dancers continued to advance on them. Aderyn saw Livia gesture and begin chanting. “Don’t hit them,” she commanded the Earthbreaker, who cut off casting her spell mid-word.

“What are we supposed to do, then?” Livia shouted back. She ducked as the final ice drake swung past, raking at her with its claws.

“Kill the drake,” Owen said. “I have an idea.”

He changed direction and, still gripping Aderyn tightly by the hand, dove past the pursuing ice golems and dragged her into the dance. Again, he dodged between the figures as agilely as if he were dancing. Aderyn staggered after him, occasionally brushing against an ice golem who didn’t react. Grateful that they seemed to have some kind of violence threshold, she almost didn’t realize when Owen brought them to a halt in the space where the dancers chasing them had been. He grabbed Aderyn around the waist with one arm and, clasping her hand, raised her other arm high. “Follow my lead,” he said, and stepped out into the figures of the dance.

Aderyn stumbled once before she caught the rhythm, one-two-three, one-two-three, and then all she could see was Owen’s face, set and intent, as he danced them between the ice golem couples. He pulled her closer, and they turned and stepped and turned again, and it took her a moment to realize they’d left the dancers behind and were dancing all by themselves in front of the door. Isold’s singing had stopped, but Aderyn couldn’t look away from Owen’s blue eyes until he released her hand and stepped away. Aderyn controlled her breathing, as heavy as if they’d done something much more strenuous.

She turned, fearing the sight of the ice golems bearing implacably down on her, and saw the endless dance, with no sign that anything had disturbed it. A few feet away, the crushed form of the third ice drake curled in on itself.

“How did you know it would work?” she asked, still breathless.

“I didn’t, but I hoped, if the ice golems are part of the dungeon, that I could show it we didn’t mean to hurt it. That the stone sphere was an accident.” Owen was breathing as heavily as she. “And it’s a dance I know.”

“It’s beautiful. It felt like the music flowed through me, and I couldn’t even hear music.” Aderyn drew in a deep, calming breath. “I didn’t even notice when the last drake was killed.”

“Let’s take a minute to rest,” Weston suggested. “Then we have a choice of doors.”

Aderyn leaned against the wall, felt cold dampness creep through her coat, and thought better of it. There were two more double doors in addition to the ones leading to the balcony, both facing each other. “What’s behind them?”

“I don’t dare look,” Livia said. “I feel the warning sensation of my magic depleting. We haven’t met the final boss yet, so I need to conserve resources. We’ll have to find out what’s there the old-fashioned way.”

“Wait a moment,” Isold said. He walked around the dancers, staying well out of their path, until he reached Cadia’s broken body. Aderyn watched curiously as he felt through her clothes and finally came up with something small and indistinct. When he returned, he displayed it. “The <Healing Stone>,” he said. “I don’t know how many charges are left, but it shouldn’t be left behind.”

“Smart,” Owen said. “I completely forgot about it.”

Aderyn closed her eyes and made her shoulders relax. With her eyes shut, her friends’ breathing and tiny shuffling noises sounded explosive. It occurred to her that they hadn’t found Garet or Dashan yet. Relief warred with unhappiness. She didn’t want to find Dashan’s dead body, but they needed to find Garet’s, and the likelihood of those bodies being together was pretty high. She was so tired. After this—and she refused to feel superstitious about thinking that way—she was going to have a hot bath and sleep for a year.

It seemed like no time before Owen said, “All right. Let’s try that one. It’s as good a choice as any other.”

Aderyn opened her eyes. Owen was pointing at the door to the left. Wearily, she followed him, and was right behind him when he opened the door.

At first glance, the new room was identical to the ballroom except for being empty of creatures, either ice golems or monsters. In another moment, Aderyn realized the high, white walls were covered with framed paintings. Their gilt frames were iced over with tiny crystals that sparkled in the light from another one of those fixtures that hung from the ceiling, covered in icicles. Full-length mirrors hung on the wall at every third painting.

Owen walked slowly into the room, turning to examine it fully. Aderyn followed him. The paintings were portraits of men and women in bold, heroic poses against pure white backgrounds, wielding a variety of weapons or surrounded by tokens of the five elements. Aderyn stopped to admire a woman brandishing a mace and looking altogether fierce. “I wonder if she was a real person.”

“I bet she was,” Owen said grimly. “These look like trophies.”

Aderyn spun around to find the others were all staring at Owen in horror. “You mean… they’re pictures of defeated adventurers?” Livia said.

“I was thinking they might be what the dungeon does to defeated adventurers, but there aren’t enough portraits.” Owen stopped in front of another portrait, one of a Swordsworn whose fierce gray eyes challenged the viewer to a duel.

“That’s horrible,” Aderyn said.

She caught sight of her reflection across the room. She looked disheveled, which made sense, and smears of soot from the burned thorn vines streaked her face and shoulders. Idly, she walked closer and was drawn by the image of her face, blackened and weary. Her eyes… her eyes had never been that purple before, had they?

Memory struck, the Riddling Door saying Don’t look yourself in the eye, and she shrieked and dragged her gaze away from the eyes that were nothing like her own. “Don’t look in the mirrors!”

“What’s wrong?” Weston asked.

Aderyn didn’t answer him. She Assessed the room, which lit up with green fire outlining the mirrors.

Name: Reflection Trap

Power Level: 10

Gazing upon one’s own reflection draws the unlucky soul into the mirror, where their image gradually dissolves to reappear in a portrait. The victim may be saved by meeting the gaze of another person, who then takes the original victim’s place in the mirror.

Aderyn felt a sudden irrational urge to stare at her reflection in the nearest mirror. “That’s nasty,” she breathed. Her earlier irritation with the Riddling Door vanished in the knowledge that its cryptic utterance had just saved her life.

“Aderyn, say something before we all go crazy,” Owen said.

She shook her head. “Give me a minute.” She closed her eyes and exhaled. She felt wound to the breaking point, between the traps and the monsters and the bizarre ice golems. How much farther could they go before their luck ran out?

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ahand rested on her shoulder. “Aderyn,” Owen said. “It can’t be that bad. Look at me.”

She opened her eyes. “Sorry. This place is starting to get to me.”

“To all of us. But we won’t make it through without everyone working together. What did you see?”

She gazed at him, her eyes meeting his blue ones, and for once didn’t think about how handsome he was, instead feeling grateful for his leadership. Already she was calmer. “It’s a mirror trap. If you look into your own eyes, it sucks you into the mirror. And the only way to get you out is for someone else to take your place.” Aderyn deliberately didn’t look at the mirror. “We need to get out of this place. Who knows how brief a glance it takes to be enthralled?”

“We could break the mirrors,” Livia suggested.

“They’re made of whatever the dungeon is, just reflective,” Weston said. He had his head bowed and was examining the bottom half of one of the mirrors.

“And we don’t need anything here, do we?” Isold said. “There’s another door.”

They hurried across the room. Aderyn couldn’t help glancing at each mirror as she passed. It felt like tiptoeing close to the edge of a cliff, frightening and tantalizing all at once.

“Shouldn’t we have received experience for avoiding the trap?” she asked, sneaking a peek at the next mirror. She came to a stop. “There’s someone in there!”

Everyone else joined her. Aderyn pointed across the room at a distant mirror. “I saw two reflections, like there was someone behind me,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder, just in case, though she knew the room was empty except for herself and her friends. “I wonder…”

She ran to the mirror, carefully not looking at her face, and came to a halt three feet away. “It’s Dashan!”

She examined him out of the corner of her eye, terrifyingly conscious of the results of meeting his gaze. The Swifthands was completely immobile, his eyes wide open as they rarely were, his hands loosely closed into fists. He looked misty, like there was a light fog inside the mirror. Aderyn’s heart ached.

“We can’t leave him there,” she said.

“We can’t get him out without trapping one of us,” Owen pointed out. “I don’t see a solution.”

“But he might be conscious. He might feel what’s happening,” Aderyn insisted. “This is so unfair.”

“Dungeons aren’t known for fairness,” Isold said. “But I agree we should try.”

“If we could break the mirror—but that might kill him faster,” Livia said.

Aderyn realized Weston had stepped away from them and was examining the room, looking from Dashan’s mirror to the painting on the wall opposite. That one was a blank canvas, slightly filmed over with color in faint blotches. “Weston?”

“No mirrors face each other,” Weston said distantly. “Maybe it’s so the trapped person’s image can be transferred to a portrait, but I’m not sure.” He stripped off his knapsack and rooted around in it until he came up with something small that reflected the brilliant shine of the ceiling light. A palm-size mirror.

“What do you have in mind?” Owen asked.

Weston stood to one side of Dashan’s mirror and extended his small mirror until it was directly in front of Dashan’s face. He shifted its position slowly, angling it as if trying to catch a stray beam of light. “I just wonder—”

Dashan vanished from the mirror. A second later, he reappeared beside them, still perfectly immobile. Then he sucked in a deep breath as if he’d forgotten how and began coughing as he collapsed to his knees.

Aderyn and Owen hurried to his side to support him. “—if his own gaze wouldn’t count toward freeing him,” Weston finished.

White lights flashed three times, and a system message appeared.

You have received [5000 XP] for avoiding the [Reflection Trap].

And then:

Congratulations! You are the first to retrieve an adventurer from the [Reflection Trap]. You have been awarded a one-time bonus of [7500 XP].

Welcome to Level Nine

“Dashan, are you all right?” Aderyn demanded. “You were starting to dissolve—do you feel different?” He looked as solid as ever, and when Aderyn looked at the distant canvas, it was pure white with no color anywhere.

“I feel weak. Tired,” Dashan said. “Like I lost a lot of blood. Where did you come from?”

“We had to attempt the dungeon because Garet stole my <Wayfinder>. Where did he go?”

Dashan shook his head and slowly got to his feet, swaying like his legs couldn’t support him. “It’s too cold to sit on the floor,” he said when Aderyn protested. “He and I were the only ones left when we entered this room. I remember staring into my own purple eyes, and then you were all here. Garet probably legged it.”

“But he couldn’t have gotten out without defeating the final boss, and Winter’s Peril claimed it defeated you,” Owen said. “He must still be here, and he’s probably dead.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Dashan said. “This dungeon is much too high a level for you. Except…” He counted heads. “You all made it. How is that possible?”

“Teamwork, and luck. It was a close thing at times,” Owen said. “We’re level nine now. We should evaluate our new capabilities, and then continue.”

Aderyn squinched up her right eye to bring up the Codex and said, “Advancement.”

Name: Aderyn

Class: Warmaster

Level: 9

Skills: Bluff (6), Climb (1), Conversation (5), Intimidate (3), Sense Truth (9), Survival (3), Swim (1), Knowledge: Monsters (7), Knowledge: Demons (1)

Class Skills: Improved Assess 2 (14), Awareness (9), Knowledge: Geography (6), Spot (7), Discern Weakness (12), Dodge (9), Improvised Distraction (6), Outflank (9), Draw Fire (2), Keep Pace (8), Amplify Voice (3), See It Coming (3), Basic Weapon Proficiency (Swords) (1)

She gasped. “Sword proficiency!”

“Just in time, too, if we’re about to get into the biggest fight of our lives,” Owen said absently. His eyes were shifting as he read invisible words. Aderyn whispered, “Skill Assess.”

Name: Jacob Owen Lindberg

Class: Swordsworn

Class Skills: Improved Weapon Proficiency (15), Improved Armor Proficiency (10), Knowledge: Monsters (8), Exploit Weakness (12), Dodge (10), Parry (8), Improved Bluff (8), Outflank (9), Trip (2), Keep Pace (8), Disarm (0), Intimidate (5), Charge (0)

“It seems Skill Assess only shows class skills, which is more than enough. What does [Charge] do?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. It might mean increased damage when I get a good run at my target, or knocking it off balance. What’s wrong, Livia?”

Livia was cursing under her breath. “Almost all these spells assume I’ll have earth or stone to work with. I can choose two, but they aren’t likely to help in the upcoming fight. But—” She blinked rapidly to clear the Codex from her vision. “My skip spell has an upgrade to transport. It means I can take all of us—what was that word you used, Owen? Tele-something?”

“Teleport,” Owen said. “Moving to another place without passing through the distance between.”

“It doesn’t go far, but it could definitely teleport us past the outer wall,” Livia said.

“Then we could leave this place. Bypass the final encounter,” Isold said.

No one spoke. Aderyn felt tremendous relief for about two seconds. Then she remembered. “We still haven’t found the <Wayfinder>. We can’t go without it. Otherwise this has just been a very dangerous experience gain.”

“Right,” Owen said. “But I think that spell is going to come in handy in future, even if we won’t use it now.”

Livia nodded. “I’ll take that and… you know what? Invisibility. And I get an extra third-level spell. Well, as long as I’m taking weird spells, why not daylight?”

“What does daylight do?” Weston asked.

“Just what it says. It creates an area in which the light is as bright as day and has all the characteristics of sunlight.” Livia shrugged. “You’re such a bad influence on me, dearest. I never used to be this frivolous.”

Weston grinned. “Your horizons are broadening,” he said, clasping her hand. “My new skill is [Evasion]. It seems like an improved version of [Dodge], but my mother always said it went beyond that—like it meant seeing a blow before it fell and not being there. Like Aderyn’s [See It Coming].”

“I approve of that,” Livia said.

“Isold, you’ve been quiet,” Owen said.

“I am not sure what to make of this new skill,” Isold said. “It gives me the ability to make a suggestion of one action the victim must perform. It is a suggestion only, not a command, and the victim has a chance to resist, just as we did with the [Trap of Gluttony]. But within these restrictions, it is extremely powerful. I could suggest a monster kill itself, or its neighbor.”

“That sounds like a good thing,” Aderyn said.

Isold turned a bleak stare on her. “Or I could do the same to a human.”

Aderyn’s mouth fell open. “Oh.”

“You’re not going to do that,” Owen said. “Not an innocent human. I know that.”

“The idea—”

“You’re not like that, Isold,” Owen insisted. “Don’t be afraid of yourself. You’re the most moral person I know.”

“I hope you’re right,” Isold said. He breathed out a long, slow sigh. “Yes. Nothing forces me to use this against my will. And my will is strong.”

“That’s right,” Aderyn said, but her earlier fears resurfaced. She didn’t believe Isold would turn on his friends if he had a choice, but there were other Heralds in the world, and monsters with mind-affecting powers, and suppose he was compelled to act by one of them? She firmly told herself to stop borrowing trouble and focus on their next challenge.

“Should we see where that door leads, or go back through the ballroom? There was another door there,” she said.

“I want us to keep moving forward,” Owen said. “We need to find whatever guards the way to the next level.”

“Will you let me join you?” Dashan asked. “If you’re level nine now, we’re only three levels apart—I leveled after we passed that ridiculous talking door. That’s not so much a gap that the system will prohibit our teaming up. And I owe you my life. I want to give you whatever aid I can.”

“We have one spot left, and I’d be honored to have you join us,” Owen said, shaking Dashan’s hand.

Aderyn’s roster, always visible at the edge of her vision, flickered as Dashan’s information joined her friends’. Dashan’s eyes moved as he scanned his own display. “I usually walk at the rear, watching for an ambush,” he said. “I can do that again if you like.”

“You and Weston both,” Owen said. “The rest of you, form up. Let’s see what’s behind that door.”

The door was unlocked. Aderyn told herself that was a good thing and did not at all mean some monster intended to lure them to their deaths. She braced herself for another large, white, frostbitten room. Her imagination was running out of ice-themed monsters. Not a dragon, surely?

But the room beyond was small and round, with walls of gray stone. A spiral staircase, also of weathered stone, filled the center of the room, turning tightly as it ascended out of sight. The only light came from high above, not the artificial light of a lantern, but clear daylight through an unseen doorway.

Owen immediately put his foot on the bottom stair. “Aderyn, with me,” he said. “Everyone, move as quietly as possible. If there’s something up there, I want us to see it first. Be prepared for an attack.”

Aderyn joined Owen, and one slow step at a time, they ascended the stairs. A low wall guarded the staircase, so no one could fall off accidentally, and while Aderyn was grateful for it, she was also conscious of how it blocked her view above and below. They would only see what the staircase opened on when they left it. Of course, that meant anything above wouldn’t be able to see them clearly either, so that was something.

They rounded seven full turns before the light changed. It still looked like daylight, but now the brightness increased as if the door it flowed through was bigger, or possibly less obscured. Owen gripped Aderyn’s hand in warning. Their steps had been barely audible on the stone, and now they moved even more quietly.

Above, around the next turn, the staircase ended at a round hole in the roof. Through it, a ceiling became visible. It was high and white and bristled with icicles. Owen stopped and signaled for the others to do the same. He put his lips close to Aderyn’s ear and whispered, “We’re going to be visible the moment we poke our heads through that hole. Any ideas?”

Aderyn thought about it. “Have Weston pass me the <Cloak of Mists>.”

It took some acrobatic maneuvering, but eventually Weston wriggled out of the cloak and they passed it up the line to Aderyn, who fumbled her way into it without making much noise. She hoped.

She pulled the hood over her face. Strangely, it didn’t impede her vision at all. She’d expected to feel like she was looking through a misty veil, but even turning her head and pressing her face against the inside of the hood didn’t do more than tickle her nose. She pinched it furiously, willing herself not to sneeze. Then she whispered, “Wait here,” and crawled the last few steps to the hole and stuck her head through.

The room looked like an ice cave, filled with frozen stalactites and stalagmites like the jaws of some terrible monster. Light poured through the mouth of the cave, brilliant and hard-edged and white. Aderyn swiveled around, searching the room for monsters or traps.

Her eye fell on a pile of pale blue translucent crystals that sparkled in the bright light. That couldn’t be the treasure. She looked more closely. Something else was there, something angular that blended in with the frost-kissed stones. It shifted, and its head moved, tilted back as it scented the air. Then it looked directly at her. Its malevolent eyes gleamed bright blue.

Aderyn Assessed it in the moment before it rose to its full fifteen-foot height and lumbered toward her.

Name: White dragon, young

Type: Dragon

Power level: 12

Immune to: elemental damage water, elemental damage ice, poison

Resistant to: weapon damage

Vulnerable to: elemental damage fire

Dragons have multiple attacks with teeth, claws, tail, and wings. A white dragon has multiple ice breath attacks.

With a roar, the white dragon breathed out a violent wind filled with ice particles that clung to Aderyn’s skin. Staggering from the impact, she fell back through the hole.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Owen caught her and steadied her as he ducked away from the wind. “What—”

“Fireball, now!” Aderyn screamed.

Owen yanked the last gold sphere from the necklace with such force the chain cut into his skin. He pushed down on Aderyn’s shoulder to get her out of the way and flung the sphere through the hole. Seconds later, the light turned red-gold from flame, and an explosion shook the small space. A roar of pain filled the air.

“Go now, go, go, it’s a dragon!” Aderyn cried, pulling herself up through the hole and dodging aside to make room for the others. She was already scanning the room, looking for inspiration. The dragon lay sprawled a short distance from the stairwell, apparently dazed. Aderyn Assessed it again, ignoring the text and watching the blue lines of [Discern Weakness] scroll across the enormous body. Her heart sank. Two blue dots, one at the base of the monster’s throat, the other low on its belly, flickered with red, indicating that those vulnerabilities were countered by its resistance to weapon damage, conferred by its strong hide.

She drew her sword with a hand shaking with cold and hesitated when she saw her skin, paler than usual and dusted with snow that wouldn’t come off and didn’t melt. Momentary fear stopped her, then she shrugged it off and ran toward the monster, looking for her partner. There was nothing she could do if the frost damage was permanent. Time to defeat the final boss.

The dragon’s befuddlement hadn’t lasted long enough for anyone to take advantage of it. Owen and Weston were attacking it, their swords glancing off the thick hide. “Belly and throat,” Aderyn shouted, [Amplify Voice] making the stalactites quiver. The dragon was backed against the wall, giving Aderyn no room for [Outflank]. She hovered at its side anyway, waiting for her moment.

“Duck!” Livia shouted.

All three of them ducked as a stone sphere zoomed past just over their heads. It impacted against the dragon’s shoulder, knocking it back a step. Immediately, Owen was there, thrusting for the belly. His sword bit deep, making blood flow from the gash. The dragon roared in fury and pain and breathed out cold with a sweep of its head. Weston dodged. Owen didn’t. The ice-filled wind blasted him, knocking him off his feet. The <Twinsword> spun away across the jagged cave floor.

Aderyn rushed to drag Owen to safety as iron spikes pelted the dragon, distracting it so it couldn’t claw or bite its fallen prey. Owen was gasping for air, and his skin was almost pure white, paler than Aderyn’s. His hands shook so badly he couldn’t close them. Aderyn, with a strength born of terror, got her shoulder under his arm and half-dragged, half-carried him to shelter behind an outcropping of stalagmites. “It’s all right,” she said. “Just breathe.”

Owen nodded. His jaw shook so badly his teeth rattled. “Go get my sword,” he managed. “I just need to warm up a little.”

Aderyn nodded and sat up so she could see past their shelter. The <Twinsword> lay several feet away, ignored by the dragon and the other combatants. Aderyn darted from concealment and ran in a zigzag path to where she could scoop up the sword and hurry back with it. She didn’t get very far before a wall of flesh dropped down in front of her. The dragon swiped at her with a terrible clawed hand the size of her face. Aderyn screamed and swung the <Twinsword>, awkwardly because she was too close to manage a good swing or a thrust.

The <Twinsword> came down on the dragon’s muscular wrist and kept going, cutting off the hand. The dragon screamed in agony and drew back. Exultant, Aderyn pursued it, thrusting for the belly. She felt more competent than usual, as if the sword was an extension of herself. She missed the vulnerable spot and continued thrusting, though the dragon was as agile as Fanged Death and she got no more lucky hits.

Again, the dragon struck at her. [See It Coming] showed her five claws on an enormous hand swiping across her chest before she threw herself backward, out of reach. She lay there, stunned from more than the fall. The hand she’d cut off was back, and the wrist looked more muscular than before, like the dragon knew what to defend against now.

She pushed herself to her feet and raced to where Owen was sitting up. He still looked too pale, and his skin was covered in the same ice particles hers still was, but he was breathing easily, and he accepted his sword with a steady hand. “Thanks. Let’s see if we can outflank it.”

“Something’s wrong,” Aderyn said. “It regenerates limbs. There wasn’t anything about that in either [Improved Assess 2] or [Discern Weakness]. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, and there’s no time to figure it out.”

“Owen, if it regenerates, we’ve got no chance.”

“Sure we do. We just have to deliver a shit-ton of damage. Don’t give up now, partner.” He smiled and ran back toward the fight.

Aderyn followed more slowly, frantically going over options. She wasn’t nearly so confident as Owen. She’d cut the thing’s hand off! That should have weakened it. And now it was back to normal. What else could they do?

She took a moment to survey the room. Owen, Weston, and Dashan were attacking directly. Dashan looked like he was having trouble; his blows with hands and feet landed more often than the swords hit, but every time he struck, he winced as if hitting the dragon’s skin hurt. Cold damage. That meant Dashan wouldn’t be able to stick it out much longer. Livia’s stone spheres had stopped, and it took Aderyn a moment to find her where she crouched behind a pile of stone.

Aderyn ran to Livia’s side. “These are stones! You can use them!”

“I’m nearly at the end of my power,” Livia said. “I have maybe one more attack in me before I’m useless. Two if I’m willing to make myself unconscious.”

“Don’t do that. We might still have to flee.” Aderyn rose to her feet, searching for Isold. The Herald looked like he was searching for an opening, but the dragon bit and clawed so ferociously it was clear Isold couldn’t get close enough to use his mind control skills. If the dragon was stunned again…

“Can you knock it down?” Aderyn asked.

Livia gazed at the dragon. “Yes.”

“Then, wait for my shout, and do it. I need to warn Isold.” Aderyn raised the hood of the <Cloak of Mists> and darted into the open.

She raced around the fight, leaping over rubble and dodging stalagmites, until she reached Isold. He jumped and pulled away when she grabbed his arm, then relaxed. “Aderyn. I can’t do a thing.”

“Livia’s going to knock it down, stun it. You have maybe three seconds after that to get into place and work that mind control thing. Can you do that?”

“Of course.” Isold nodded. His attention was back on the dragon. “I’m ready.”

Aderyn stepped out of his way and shouted, “Now, Livia!”

A tremendous boom shook the cave. The stone floor rippled, arrowing straight for the dragon like a burrowing creature attacking. The ripples slammed into the dragon, knocking it on its back and stunning it. Isold raced forward and scrambled onto the dragon’s chest, standing dangerously close to the fanged mouth and leaning forward so their gazes locked.

An echoing silence fell as the sound of thunderstomp faded. Aderyn watched Isold with her fists clenched so hard it hurt. He didn’t appear to be doing anything. The dragon’s wings, pinned beneath its enormous body, twitched, and its arms reached to the side like it intended to get up. In a voice that resonated through the cave, Isold said, “Fly away from here and never return.”

The dragon rose, dislodging Isold, who tumbled backward and was caught by Dashan. Its wings spread fully, revealing pale blue membranes that glittered like frost. It roared, sending a few stalactites to crash on the cave floor. And it dove, not for the cave mouth, but for Isold and Dashan.

Owen was there in a flash, putting his body between his teammates and the dragon. He thrust for the vulnerable spot at the base of the dragon’s throat. The <Twinsword> missed the blow and penetrated only an inch or two, but it was enough to enrage the dragon, who lunged for Owen and closed its jaws on his shoulder.

Aderyn’s scream echoed Owen’s cry of pain. She ran forward, desperate to save her partner. Owen tore free and staggered back, barely able to deflect the dragon’s next swipe. When Owen fell back, Weston stepped up to intercept the dragon’s attack.

Aderyn stumbled to a halt. This was all wrong. Yes, the dragon was powerful, but that powerful? Able to regenerate, able to resist Isold’s [Suggestion], able to shrug off damage to the vulnerable spots [Discern Weakness] revealed?

Owen was shouting her name. She ignored him and instead Assessed the cave.

The entire cave was suddenly outlined in blue lines of light, like what she always saw with [Discern Weakness], except these glittered like shards of crystal. Amazed, she ducked behind a row of stalagmites and scanned the room.

Off to one side, behind where the dragon had been when she first saw it, a patch of inky blackness drew her eye. It was so at odds with the sparkling crystal array she felt drawn to it. She rapidly circled the room, hearing dimly the cries of her teammates. Part of her was terrified for them, for what might happen if she was wrong and this was nothing, but most of her attention focused on the black spot. It lay in a crevice of stone, low on the ground, and she had to kneel and then crouch further to see it clearly.

Even with [Discern Weakness], she couldn’t easily tell what she was looking at. She squinted, then closed one eye, and that brought it into focus: a slit, slightly bulging in the center, no more than an inch and a half wide.

Without thinking, Aderyn whipped the knife from her belt and plunged it into the hole with a two-handed downward thrust. Something went click, and the knife’s hilt rotated ninety degrees.

A white light flashed three times, leaving the room more brightly lit than before.

Congratulations! You have completed the quest [Clear Winter’s Peril].

You have been awarded [10,000 XP]

Panting, Aderyn tugged at the knife’s hilt. It didn’t budge. She twisted vainly, trying to unlock it, then gave up. “I guess it was worth the sacrifice,” she murmured.

She felt someone crouch beside her. “What happened?” Owen said. “The dragon disappeared.”

She looked up at him. Blood darkened his left shoulder, and he held that arm stiffly. “You’re hurt.”

“The dragon that isn’t here anymore bit me. Aderyn, what did you do?”

The Warmaster found the secret kill switch.

The voice came from nowhere, filling the air as completely as [Amplify Voice] did. Owen jerked, and he put his arm around Aderyn’s shoulders and pulled her away from the knife hilt. “Who are you? What do you mean?”

I am Winter’s Peril. Those who defeat me usually do so by fighting the dragon to its death. Far fewer perceive the true mechanism by which my defeat is ensured. Those are rewarded commensurately.

“Commensurately—you mean, the reward is greater if you figure out the secret?”

Yes.

“Well.” Owen seemed at a loss for words. Aderyn got to her feet. The others were making their way across the rubble-strewn floor toward her and Owen. Weston carried Livia. Dashan was limping. Isold held his arm like it was broken.

“We couldn’t have killed the dragon,” Aderyn said to Winter’s Peril.

Unlikely. Though you fought well. The dragon is meant to challenge adventurers who lack the insight to find a more elegant solution.

“Um… thank you?” Aderyn said. The realization that her whim had saved all their lives now left her shaking. Suppose she hadn’t followed that whim?

You have earned your treasure. You will find it in the other tower.

“You mean, if we’d gone the other way, we’d have gotten the treasure without fighting?” Weston said.

The dragon is always in the tower you reach first. It is a safeguard.

Weston looked like he thought this was insane, but he said nothing.

Owen put his arm around Aderyn’s shoulders again, this time to hold her steady against the shaking that threatened to overwhelm her. “I have one more question,” he said. “Why this shape? This house? Where did you see it?”

I like television.

Owen’s mouth fell open. “You… how is that even possible? Do you see into other worlds?”

You will find, young Swordsworn, that very little is impossible when the system chooses. How else could you have been summoned to the prime world?

After a pause, it added,

I am also fond of Friends. Joey amuses me.

The lights dimmed, and Aderyn felt a sense of emptiness, like being in a room with no furniture. She breathed out in relief. It was over.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Aderyn turned toward Owen and realized his gaze was fixed on nothing. “Owen. You’re in shock.”

“You’re damn right I am,” Owen said faintly. “Television. And the system brought me here. This is—” His eyes closed, and he collapsed.

Aderyn dropped to her knees beside him and lifted his head onto her lap. Belatedly, she saw the health bar next to his name had shrunk to nearly nothing.

“Isold, the wand,” she began.

“Here,” Isold said. “Take his coat off.” He held the <Healing Stone> awkwardly in his uninjured left hand.

Aderyn and Weston wrestled Owen’s coat off his wounded shoulder, and Isold used the stone to heal the many terrible puncture wounds. “I don’t think the stone can do anything about the damage the breath attack did,” Isold said.

Owen was already blinking and trying to rise. Aderyn supported him into a sitting position. “Don’t do that,” she said. “You scared me.”

“Like you didn’t give me a heart attack when you ran away from me,” Owen said. “The dragon nearly tore you apart.”

Aderyn blinked. “When was this?”

“You ran to that corner, and the dragon went after you,” Weston said. “We were all screaming at you to get out of the way, and you ignored us. We thought you were dead.”

“And then it vanished,” Dashan said. “What’s a kill switch?”

“It means an attack that’s an instant kill, either by doing a tremendous amount of damage or by bypassing a thing’s protections.” Owen staggered to his feet and helped Aderyn rise. “I say we go pick up our treasure and then find a way out of this place.”

“I am wholeheartedly in favor of this plan. Can you walk, Livia?” Weston said.

“I’ll be fine so long as I don’t try to cast any spells,” Livia said. “But I think we should finish healing. Owen wasn’t the only one injured.”

With Isold’s broken arm healed and Dashan’s twisted ankle restored, they returned down the spiral staircase. In the hall of portraits, they got a surprise: all the mirrors had turned into ordinary glass, though as it was actually the dungeon’s own material, it was hardly ordinary. All Aderyn cared was that there was no chance of seeing her purple eyes dragging at her.

The ballroom was still thronged with ice golems, but they were all immobile, caught mid-step in their dance. They were still the most beautiful thing Aderyn had ever seen. She remembered dancing among them, carried along by Owen, and the memory filled her with joy despite how terrified she’d been at the time. Maybe Owen would teach her that dance, and they could dance it properly.

Weston took the lead when they reached the only other door they hadn’t yet tried. He waved them to silence and pressed his ear to the door. After a few seconds, he shook his head and pressed down on the latch.

Though the room beyond had the same high, white walls as the ballroom and the portrait gallery, the frozen light hanging from the ceiling was dim, and the crystals didn’t sparkle as they had elsewhere. The room was also a mess. Objects cluttered the floor, dark against the white marble. It took Aderyn’s tired brain a moment to realize they were weapons. More weapons rested in cabinets behind broken glass or in stands and racks along the walls. Aderyn’s impression was of someone running through the room, tearing weapons from their places, smashing the glass and flinging maces and swords and staffs and crossbows all across the floor.

Something moved in a corner where several cabinets clustered. They looked as if they’d been dragged to create a fortification. “Hey—oh,” someone said, shoving a cabinet out of the way so he could stand.

“Garet!” Aderyn exclaimed. “We thought you were dead.”

“I almost was,” Garet said with a smile. “The weapons came to life and attacked. I was trapped here until a minute or so ago, when all the weapons stopped moving.”

“Trapped?”

“Well, I could hardly fight a dragon by myself, could I? I knew eventually someone would come to Winter’s Peril. And you did!” Garet bowed low. “I take it you defeated the dungeon? Excellent work. At such a low level, too.”

Aderyn marched over to Garet and held out a hand. “Give it back.”

“Give it back? What would that be?” Garet’s smile was mocking.

“Don’t be an ass. My <Wayfinder>. You stole it. I want it. Now.”

Garet’s expression became so sorrowful it couldn’t be real. “Well, Aderyn, I don’t have it—”

Owen drew his sword and laid the sharp edge across Garet’s throat. “Don’t lie,” Owen said. “Hand it over, and we’ll all walk out of here alive. Continue lying, and I’ll slit your throat and take it off you. Your choice. But you’d better decide soon, because my hand’s still shaky.”

Garet’s smile disappeared. He raised both hands to show he was unarmed. “You wouldn’t really cut me down, would you? That’s not your style.”

Owen pressed harder. A thin line of red appeared around the blade’s edge, and Garet whimpered. “Don’t mess with my partner, Garet,” Owen snarled. “In fact, you stay there. Weston?”

“Happily,” Weston said. He sliced through the straps of Garet’s knapsack, lifted it off his back, and handed it to Isold. Isold tossed Garet’s belongings out, scattering them like the weapons. He smiled and removed something small and round he handed to Aderyn. Aderyn let out a deep, relieved breath when she saw the familiar concentric rings and felt the welcome dull pressure of the spikes.

Owen lowered his sword. “You can leave with us,” he said to Garet. “I wouldn’t abandon even a louse like you to rot here. But don’t think that changes anything. You stole from your companions, and I’m going to make sure everyone who might ever team with you knows it.”

“You don’t have the power,” Garet sneered. “I’m four levels higher than you. No one will believe it.”

“They will if I back him up,” Dashan said. “What made you think stealing from Aderyn, from your traveling companion, was a good idea, Garet? It’s sheer luck your theft meant they came here and accidentally rescued you. I suggest you retire somewhere no one will ever hear this story.”

Garet’s mouth fell open. “Retire? At level thirteen?”

“Not that I care, but it’s a respectable conclusion to an adventuring career.” Dashan tilted his head to look up at the much taller Garet. He didn’t look as if he felt intimidated by the Lightfingers. “It’s the only offer you’re going to get. Retire, or be ruined.”

Garet snarled. He turned and began gathering his scattered possessions and packing them into the mutilated knapsack.

The weapons room was the mirror image of the portrait gallery, with a door where the other one leading to the dragon’s tower had been. Owen led the way up an identical spiral staircase into, not a dragon’s ice cave, but an ordinary stone tower room, round and empty of everything but a brass-bound wooden chest. Weston checked it, though Aderyn was sure it would be unlocked and free of traps—still, you didn’t take chances like that as an adventurer—and then opened it. Inside was a pile of ten black burlap bags. Weston poured gold coins out of one of them into his palm. The coins kept coming until they overflowed his hand and spilled back into the chest.

“One hundred gold,” he said, counting, “and if they’re all identical, that means one thousand gold total. Let’s get these into Aderyn’s purse. We still have to get past Fanged Death.”

But when they’d collected their treasure and tentatively opened the door to the balcony, the entrance hall was silent and empty of giant snake. There were no signs it had ever been there. The steps, too, were no longer slicker than ice. Feeling content, Aderyn strolled down the stairs next to Owen. They were alive, they had a fortune, and she had her precious magic item back—she couldn’t ask for a more perfect ending to a quest.

Aderyn had lost track of time while they were in the dungeon, and its brilliant white light that bore no resemblance to sunlight had disoriented her. She was surprised to discover it was early evening, with the sun sunk only halfway behind the tall peaks of the western Pinnalore Mountains. She hoped it was still the same day, if only because that would mean she was less confused.

They walked back to Elkenforest slowly, without needing to race the sun. Garet hung back a short distance, enough to make it clear he wasn’t with them. Aderyn had expected him to run away once they were out, maybe so he could return to the city first and spread rumors to counter the ones they might spread about him, but he just sulked along behind, carrying his knapsack in his arms.

“I need a bath,” Owen said. “A real bath. These ice crystals still haven’t melted, and I’m cold. I say we go to the finest inn in town and spend a little of our treasure. After we’ve divided it six ways.”

“Five ways,” Dashan said. “I wouldn’t feel right about taking a share, since technically I failed in my quest. I’m just grateful to be alive.”

“You helped in the final battle,” Aderyn protested.

“Which you won,” Dashan countered. “It’s really all right. I’ve got a lot saved, enough that I can go to that fine inn and share a celebratory meal with you. We’ve definitely earned it.”

“I hope you’ve got that money on you,” Weston said. “There’s something we ought to tell you about the stuff you left behind at the inn.”

“I never leave behind anything I care about,” Dashan said. “Why, did it get stolen?”

“Um. Sort of. I mean, everyone thought you were dead.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Owen promised.

“And now that I have the <Wayfinder> back, I can go to the Starling Inn and not be afraid of encountering my grandfather and having to explain how I lost his gift.” Aderyn turned around and scowled at Garet, who ignored her.

“Then it’s settled. The Starling Inn, with hot baths for those of us hit by a white dragon’s ice breath, and a meal to end all meals.” Owen smiled at Aderyn. “If I look anything like you, I look like a snowman, snow crystals and all.”

“A snowman? What kind of monster is that?”

“Not a monster, a… it’s not important. It’s just a thing we look like.” Owen quickened his pace. “And now I don’t want to delay any longer. I’ll race you back to town!”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Aderyn’s experience with bathing to date had been in the small tub in her parents’ house. It was a wooden tub Lyzette also used to do the washing, and it was big enough for Aderyn to sit in and enjoy how the water lapped around her waist.

She wasn’t prepared for the bathing rooms at the Starling Inn. There were four of them, each with a porcelain tub big enough to drown in and a little cubicle for undressing and hooks near the tub for keeping your clothes off the floor. The tub was filled from a tank enchanted by a Spellcrafter that collected water from the roof cistern and heated it with the touch of a finger to any temperature you liked, warm, very warm, hot, scalding. Aderyn touched the spot with “hot” engraved on it. A warm red light shone just where her finger had touched, and water began pouring into the tub. She watched it flow, amazed, until the bottom of the tub was completely covered, then undressed in the cubicle and hung up her filthy clothes.

She had just stepped into the tub and was thinking about sitting when a knock on the door startled her. She leaped out of the tub and grabbed her shirt to cover herself. “Yes?”

“Miss, would you care for a glass of wine with your bath?”

The voice was female. Aderyn tiptoed around the tub, avoiding the puddles she’d made getting out, and opened the door a crack. “Wine?”

“Yes, miss. It’s complimentary. That means, free,” the middle-aged woman at the door said to Aderyn’s uncomprehending stare.

“Oh,” Aderyn said. “Well… all right.”

She backed away to let the woman enter. The woman held a small tray on which was a glass of white wine. “Please, sit, I won’t stare,” the woman said with a smile.

She reminded Aderyn so much of her own mother it was impossible to feel self-conscious. Aderyn returned the shirt to the hook in the cubicle and sank into the tub. The woman set the wine glass on a little shelf clearly intended just for that purpose and said, “Your clothes appear quite soiled. Would you like me to fetch others?”

“I, um, don’t have any others that are clean. I’m an adventurer.” Aderyn’s embarrassment returned. She snatched up the wine and sipped to cover how foolish she felt.

“I see.” The woman didn’t look as if she was judging Aderyn. “We will mend and clean your clothes while you bathe. We have a Tidecaller on our staff who specializes in such magic.”

“I—but that must be expensive!”

The woman smiled. “It’s part of our service to our valued guests. You’re new to adventuring success, aren’t you?”

Aderyn blushed. “I’ve never stayed in a place this nice before. I’m sure I must seem awfully ignorant.”

“We all have to do things for the first time eventually.” The woman collected Aderyn’s dirty clothes and draped them over her arm. “Let me show you something.”

She opened the cubicle door and showed Aderyn a handle attached to a long hose. The handle ended in a flat metal disc perforated by tiny holes. “Make sure you point it inside the cubicle, or water goes everywhere,” the woman said. She aimed the disc at the back wall of the cubicle and squeezed the handle. Aderyn jumped when a spray of water like rainfall shot out of the disc. “Soap is here, and there’s a different soap for washing your hair,” the woman said, releasing the handle. “If you scrub yourself clean in here, you can soak without having to sit in your own dirt.”

Owen had talked about showers often enough for Aderyn to recognize an example. “Thank you!”

“It’s my pleasure.” The woman left Aderyn alone in the cubicle, and soon Aderyn heard the water running into the tub shut off. She played with the shower for a bit, squirting water at the walls, before turning it on herself. The water was warm, not hot, but against her dragon-blasted skin it felt luxurious. She washed her body and her hair, rinsed thoroughly, and then climbed into the tub. It took exactly two seconds for her to resolve to find a way to have one of these in her home. Her eventual home, of course, when she retired as a level twenty adventurer.

Though… that wasn’t going to happen if they were successful in their quest, was it? If Owen became the real Fated One, and broke the level cap, there was no knowing how high a level Aderyn would end up. And Owen… she wasn’t sure what he had in mind, whether he would adventure with her until she got tired of it, or whether he would retire early, or even if he wanted to stay with her. They were partners, they needed each other, but he might fall in love someday, and one thing Aderyn was sure of was that no woman wanted her sweetheart or her husband to be deeply attached to another woman.

She drank down the rest of her wine and wished she had more. She didn’t like getting drunk, but it would be nice to be able to muffle the sound of the horrible little voice in her head that taunted her with visions of Owen falling in love and getting married and leaving Aderyn behind.

The hot water relaxed her enough that when the woman again knocked on the door, Aderyn didn’t startle. The woman hung Aderyn’s clothing, including her shift and drawers, on hooks and took the wine glass away. “Is there anything else I can get for you, miss?”

Aderyn considered the wine glass and decided against a second. “Do you know if my friend is finished with his bath?”

“Is that the young Swordsworn? I believe his clothes are nearly done.” The woman’s eyes twinkled. “Such a handsome young man.”

Aderyn refused to blush, since that was what the woman wanted. “He’s my partner. My adventuring partner.”

“No reason he couldn’t be more than that.” With a wink, the woman let herself out. Aderyn willed her cheeks to cool and then stepped out of the tub. She didn’t know if she was supposed to do anything with the water—surely, if they were concerned enough about cleanliness to provide a shower, they wouldn’t reuse her bathwater on someone else—but she decided she would let the inn deal with it.

Her clothes hadn’t been this clean in weeks. They’d even mended the little tear in her shirt’s hem that she kept meaning to ask Livia to repair. Putting on clean clothes after relaxing in a hot bath… yes, this was definitely a tradition she wanted to start.

She went looking for her friends and found Livia and Weston in the dining room. The inn did have a taproom, but paying guests ate in a private parlor on the second floor. It was sumptuously furnished, with wood paneling that matched the mahogany tables and chairs, and hanging light fixtures like small versions of the crystal-bedecked lights they’d seen in Winter’s Peril. They weren’t enough alike to make Aderyn uncomfortable, and they shed a dimmer light, warm and cozy to make dining feel intimate.

She pulled out a chair and seated herself. “I feel like an imposter.”

“So do we,” Livia said. “They gave us a suite like the one your grandfather had in Ashenfell. I have no idea what we’re supposed to do with an extra room.”

“Though the bed is very nice,” Weston said. “Big enough that my feet don’t dangle, which I can tell you is rare.”

“I’m still not used to the idea of having money,” Aderyn said. “The bathtub is amazing. I never realized how much potential there was in sitting neck-deep in hot water.”

She looked up as Isold and Dashan entered. They’d cleaned up as well, though neither of them had the rosy damp look of people who’d enjoyed a good soak. Dashan sat next to Aderyn. “You look better. Less snowy.”

“Yes, it seems a lot of hot water was enough to reverse the dragon’s breath effect, fortunately. I didn’t want to look like a snowman forever. Whatever that is. I still say it sounds like a monster Winter’s Peril should have thrown at us.”

“I’m glad we didn’t fight animate snowmen,” Owen said, dropping into the chair on Aderyn’s other side. He looked the way she felt, his hair damp, his skin once more warm and glowing instead of frost-bitten. “How did you like the bath? Did you have a shower? They have showers, Aderyn. I almost want to live here.”

His smile told her he wasn’t serious, which was a relief. If he wanted to stop adventuring for the sake of endless hot water—but no. “I’ve decided my house will have a giant tub. My house when I retire, I mean.”

“I approve.”

They were the only ones in the dining room, though it had tables enough for fifty diners. Aderyn sat quietly in deep contentment and listened to her friends talk and banter. They were alive, they were warm, they had succeeded at clearing a dungeon that should have killed them, and she’d never felt happier.

Soon, the door banged open, and a line of men dressed all the same in white shirts and burgundy trousers entered, bearing trays from which came the most divine smells. They began setting down dishes: pork roast, an enormous goose, vats of mashed potatoes and yams, a tureen of peas so far out of season they had to have been produced by magic, baskets of soft white rolls, and pots of butter and cream. They delivered all this food in silence and left the same way. Aderyn and Owen stared at each other. Owen said, “That was uncanny.”

Weston was already carving the goose. “It’s delicious, so shut up and start eating.”

It was delicious. Aderyn ate until she couldn’t fit in another bite, then had to make room for the second course, which was bowls of fruit with sweet cream and tiny cakes iced to perfection and cups of sugared, flavored snow. The last made her shiver, and she pushed hers aside and saw Owen do the same, which made them both laugh.

When the food was gone, and the serving men had returned to take the dishes, the team sat in silence, digesting. Aderyn had never felt so relaxed. But when Owen said, “We’ll need to make another early start tomorrow,” a chill shot through her she couldn’t explain. She’d almost forgotten the point of getting the <Wayfinder> back. It wasn’t as if the Repository was an unknown, so there was no reason to feel uncertain, but she couldn’t help imagining what knowledge it might hold for them, and what quests that knowledge might unfold.

“You’re going to the Repository again?” Dashan asked.

“We still have a question to be answered. About the Fated One,” Owen said.

Dashan nodded. “You are going to pursue that quest, then. I had the impression from Aderyn you weren’t interested.” He’d told them all the story of his first love, the one who had been a Fated One, and how that story had ended.

“Not in the usual way. We want to know what the Fated One’s, well, duties are. What exactly he or she has to do to accomplish that destiny.”

“That’s different.” Dashan looked thoughtful. “We, Erissa and I, we talked about it. She liked the idea of being the Fated One, but to her it was a game, nothing she ever took seriously. But then she died before it was an issue.”

“I understand that. To me, it feels unreal most of the time, because it’s not a destiny I chose for myself. But that’s why we’re going about it this way. I want to know if the task is even something I want to do. Like, if being the Fated One means sacrificing my life, I’m not interested.”

That possibility hadn’t occurred to Aderyn. What would be the point of being the Fated One if you weren’t around to enjoy the results? “Do you have any guesses about what the Repository might show us?” she asked Dashan. “You’ve obviously given it more thought than we have.”

“Not along those lines, though.” Dashan shrugged. “If anything, I would hope to hear the experiences of someone who knew about the level cap. What caused it. That seems more likely than someone who knows what the Fated One is meant to do, if that makes sense. Meaning that you could probably work out how to break the level cap from knowing what was done to impose it.”

“I am looking forward to the experience in itself,” Isold said. “Think of the stories those witnesses know. I wonder if the Repository accepts new custodians? Possibly at the end of my adventuring days I could settle down there.”

“They probably work their custodians too hard for them to spend any time listening to the witnesses,” Livia said.

“It’s worth asking the question,” Weston said.

Aderyn didn’t like thinking about the time when they would all go their separate ways. “I’m curious about the witnesses. I thought they were more like disembodied voices, but Vesper said they move around, like they have personalities.”

“This time tomorrow, we’ll know.” Owen pushed back his chair. “I’m off to bed. That bath relaxed me so much my muscles feel like they’re taffy… no, don’t ask, Aderyn, I’m too tired to figure out an explanation.” He smiled so she would know he was joking.

“If ‘taffy’ means all stretched out and warm, I understand,” she said with an answering smile.

She’d been given a suite as well, and to be sure she appreciated the gesture, she sat for a while in the nice, comfortable chair with its overstuffed cushions before going to bed. There was a little table just right for a meal for one person—the woman who’d showed her to this suite had explained that she could ring the bell, and someone would come, and she could ask that person for anything. Food, wine, another bath—even things like sending a message across town or finding her a book. It seemed so decadent even if she was paying for it.

She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. Was Owen’s room like hers? She had an enormous bed even though there was only one of her. She was struck with a sudden mad desire to find Owen and see what his bed looked like. Her heart ached with longing, remembering how the bath woman had teased her and how much she wished there was something to the teasing.

If she went to Owen’s room and told him—no, that was impossible. It was the man’s responsibility to speak first, to tell the woman how he felt so she could choose how to respond. And since Owen hadn’t done that, she was doomed to disappointment.

She turned out the lamp in the little sitting room and climbed into bed. It was a nice bed, but too big for just one person. That realization kept her awake in the dark for hours.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Vesper, true to her word, had arranged things so when the friends presented themselves at the Repository gate, it swung open without the unseen custodian demanding payment. The custodian on duty that day, not Breven, took them through the narrow hall and handed them off to another custodian, who turned out to be Vesper herself. “I take it you retrieved your magic finding item,” she said. “That was fast.”

“We were motivated,” Owen said.

“Well, I’m curious about what you intend to do, so let’s get started.” Vesper crossed the room, not to one of the levitation circles, but to another of the nearly-invisible stone doors, which swung open at her approach.

A short hall opened almost immediately on a tunnel running perpendicular to the hall. Aderyn gazed at the rough walls and the ceiling that showed marks where stalactites had been broken off to make it higher. It looked to her like a natural cavern that had been enlarged by people who only cared about making it bigger, not prettier.

A boxy wooden wagon sat in a groove along the tunnel floor. Eight wooden stools attached to the wagon bed in two rows suggested, again, that someone hadn’t cared much about comfort. Vesper opened a door in the wagon’s side and climbed in, saying, “Take a seat anywhere, but keep your hands inside the wagon.”

Aderyn sat next to Owen and thought about asking the obvious question, which was “where’s the horse?” But before she could muster the courage, the wagon gave a lurch and began accelerating. A magic wagon! How useful that would be for traveling between cities. As the wagon built up speed, she was even more impressed. This was faster than the fastest horse could go, fast enough she didn’t need the warning about keeping her hands inside. They might get snapped off at this speed.

It didn’t take long for the wagon to slow and then come to a stop at another short hall like the one they’d left. Aderyn exchanged looks with Owen. “That was so exciting!” she murmured.

“I don’t think it was going more than thirty miles an hour,” Owen replied. “Which is… okay, for your world I suppose that’s fast. But it felt like a really tame rollercoaster.”

“I can’t imagine what your world has that you thought that was tame.”

Owen shot a glance at Vesper, who wasn’t paying them any attention. “Sometime I’ll tell you about the Indy 500.”

“This way, and watch your step, it’s dark inside,” Vesper said. She opened a door at the end of the short hall and stepped inside the dimly-lit space beyond. Aderyn and the others followed.

Between the gentle air currents and the way sound disappeared, the room felt big, not just wide but high-ceilinged, but the dimness made it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. Vesper closed the door, darkening the room more. “Wait, and watch,” she said.

Aderyn obeyed. She saw the little sparks of light that happened whenever she was in a dark room, like her eyes insisted on seeing something and would make something to look at if there wasn’t anything else. Then she realized the sparks of light were bigger than they should be, and they weren’t all white, they were pale blue and pink and lavender as well as a soft yellowish-white. Some of them were moving, floating in great looping swirls before coming to rest in midair. It was like watching stars dance.

Her eyes were adjusting to the dimness, and eventually she saw that what she thought was midair was actually a wide ledge. Irregular splotches seemed to be a variety of objects, bowls and lanterns, metal and stone and wooden boxes, teapots and mugs. All of them, she realized, were things that meant containment, things that could hold other things. She remembered what Vesper had said about the witnesses getting bored with their containers, but she’d imagined beautifully carved and painted boxes, maybe with some sparkle. These were just ordinary household objects.

“How do you choose the containers?” Isold asked.

“Mostly they’re things we have no more use for.” Vesper’s voice sounded distant, like she’d covered her mouth with her hood. “Centuries ago, the custodians thought the witnesses needed special treatment, but the witnesses weren’t drawn to the expensive containers more than to your basic teacup with a crack in the lip.”

“You were right, this is a big place,” Owen said.

Vesper laughed. “There are a hundred more rooms like this one, all filled with witnesses. I told you it would take forever. So if you’ve got a way to find the ones you want, you might want to start now.”

Aderyn withdrew the <Wayfinder> box from her <Purse of Great Capacity> and tipped the magic ball into her palm. It felt cool to the touch. She rotated it into the correct position and focused her will on the silent question Where is the first witness who will answer our question about the Fated One’s destiny?

The large spike became warm rosy-red immediately, and the rings began spinning. Aderyn turned until the glow brightened further and then took a step forward. Her eyes were adjusted to the low light in the room now, but the path more than five or six feet in front of her remained indistinct. With her attention on the <Wayfinder>, she was only barely aware of her friends following her; she was more interested in the fact that the path had become steeper.

Again, the <Wayfinder> didn’t point a straight line to its goal, ignoring walls and corners. It seemed to be following an invisible trail, one that curved and rose and fell as it passed from the first room to the next. Aderyn wished she had attention to spare to look around her as she became aware of being surrounded by varied containers. Some were dark and empty, but most had little fuzzy spheres of light bobbing inside them. She’d have to ask Owen to describe the sight for her later.

The path continued to meander like a cow track across a hilly field. Aderyn soon noticed only the moments when they passed between rooms, as the light increased at those times, though only by comparison to the dimness surrounding them. She heard Owen ask, “Why is it so dark?” and Vesper’s reply, “The witnesses are impossible to see in even normal light. Also, they say bright light makes them itchy. I’m not sure how true that is, but we don’t want to annoy them.”

Just then, the <Wayfinder> gave a little shudder in her hand, and the glowing spike brightened. Aderyn focused on what it was pointing at: a metal watering can, green-white with verdigris, that glowed pale blue from within. She lowered the <Wayfinder>, and the rings slowed to a stop and the spike dimmed and cooled. “That one,” she said.

“That’s amazing. You’re totally right,” Vesper said. “That was worth giving up twelve hundred gold for. Now, all you have to do is let it take you over.”

“Take me over?” Aderyn exclaimed.

“We’re not doing that,” Owen said.

“It’s not permanent, don’t be ridiculous,” Vesper said. “And it’s not so much taking over as giving it lungs and vocal cords and a mouth to speak through. Otherwise, you get nothing.”

“Then I’ll do it,” Owen said.

“No, you can’t. You’re the one who knows what questions to ask,” Aderyn said. “It’s all right. I’m guessing Vesper does it all the time, and she isn’t hurt.” She suppressed the worry that maybe a custodian had protections an ordinary person didn’t. Vesper wouldn’t let them do something that would injure them.

“Sit beside the container,” Vesper said. “Sometimes people’s knees lock, and they faint. Better to stay seated. Then, put your hand into the container.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all. Then the witness will speak. Relax and let it happen.” Vesper stepped back.

Aderyn put the <Wayfinder> away and sat cross-legged beside the watering can. The little blue fuzzy light bobbed as if it knew what she intended and was eager for it. Slowly, she lowered her hand into the container.

The light leaped up and jumped into her palm. Then it burrowed under her skin at the wrist. Aderyn gasped as it sped up her arm and past her shoulder. It hardly felt like anything, barely a tickling, tugging sensation, but it lit her from within, reminding her of the oxen Cadia had healed with the <Healing Stone>. It crossed her collarbone, circled the base of her throat, and then dove deeper.

Suddenly, she was choking. She grabbed her throat, gagging on the lump that had appeared there. Owen was shouting her name, but then the choking passed, and her throat was clear, and her lips moved of their own volition.

“I never knew if he meant it,” she heard herself say. It wasn’t her voice; it was a deep, masculine rumble. “You could never tell, with Aurelon. He liked power, and he was proud of having it. Level fifty, you know. But that doesn’t change the fact that he and Valaros destroyed that city when they took on the dragons. They didn’t even try to draw the fight away. Or maybe they did. I was hiding like everyone else.”

The man using Aderyn’s mouth cleared her throat. “So maybe my witness is no good. But Aurelon and I were companions for most of those fifty levels, and the one thing I’m sure of is that he had something to do with what came next. His disappearance was too coincidental otherwise. I think what he wanted was to make sure no one else could challenge him like Valaros did. Aurelon disappeared, and the system stopped awarding experience once people reached level twenty. You can’t tell me that’s coincidence. No, I don’t know how he made it happen. If you find him, maybe you can ask.”

Aderyn’s throat convulsed once more, but not as painfully. It felt as if something had gripped her by the neck and then released her. The blue light reversed its path, tunneling through her skin down her arm and out to fall back into the container.

“How old is that witness?” she heard Owen ask.

“No idea,” Vesper said. “The oldest witnesses are more than five centuries old, and we know the level cap happened maybe three hundred, three hundred and fifty years ago. So if he was witness to that event, that’s how old it is.”

“Aurelon,” Isold said. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

“Neither have I,” Vesper said.

“Are the witnesses always truthful?” Livia asked.

“They’re truthful to an extent. That is, they don’t lie, but their understanding is limited to what they saw and knew. So they can mislead without meaning to. Like how that witness said he didn’t know whether this Aurelon acted intentionally, whatever it was he did.” Vesper sounded as if the question had roused her curiosity as well.

“Is that all?” Aderyn asked, or tried to—the words made her throat itch, and she coughed, a dry, rasping sound. Owen knelt beside her and offered her his waterskin. She drank gratefully and repeated the question. “Is that all? We can’t ask the witness for more information?”

“The newer ones, yes. The custodians changed how they harvest the witnesses about a hundred years ago, and any witnesses from after that time are flexible in how they respond. But the old ones are pretty much what you just got.” Vesper picked up the watering can and peered into it. “Honestly, for a three-hundred-year-old memory, that was quite lucid.”

“We learned something about what happened to create the level cap, or maybe just an event near it,” Owen said. “And we have a name. Aurelon.”

“And Valaros, don’t forget. Who might be Aurelon’s enemy.” Isold looked like he was thinking hard. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize those names from any stories I know.”

“It’s fine. We can deal with them later. Vesper, you said there were three witnesses?” Owen rose, bringing Aderyn with him.

“Yes. Go ahead and work your magic again,” Vesper said. Though her face remained shrouded by her hood, she sounded eager, like this was the best entertainment she’d had in a long time. Given that Vesper spent her life surrounded by these extraordinary creatures, or memories, or whatever the witnesses were, Aderyn couldn’t see why Vesper found the <Wayfinder> so interesting. On the other hand, they wouldn’t be getting the witnesses for free if she didn’t, so maybe Aderyn shouldn’t think so hard about the mystery.

With Owen’s hand on her elbow, Aderyn cupped the <Wayfinder> in both hands and followed where it led.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

This time, the <Wayfinder> took them only a short distance, into the next room and up the path to a point nearly at the ceiling. Aderyn observed the solid gold teapot skeptically. The light inside was blue like the first, but it was jagged rather than fuzzy, and it hopped and skittered erratically. “It looks agitated,” she said.

“Someone else can do it, Aderyn,” Owen said.

She shook her head. “No, I know what to expect now. No sense inflicting it on someone else. Besides, it’s not that bad.” She sat beside the teapot and lowered three fingers, all that would fit through the small round opening, toward the jagged light.

It leaped onto her hand, prickling like a burr, and then dug under her skin painfully and dragged itself up her arm through her flesh. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying out at the pain, in case Owen got any ideas about making her stop. This was too important to let a little pain get in the way.

This time, she felt only the slightest sensation of something being stuck in her throat, not even the needle-like stabbing pains the light had caused on its trip through her arm and shoulder. Now that she knew what to expect, she relaxed and let the witness speak.

Her lips moved soundlessly, not forming words, just flexing and relaxing. Then someone said, “The traveler comes from beyond the lands we know. It’s a dark night for everyone. I don’t remember how we got here, but I’m sure it was all lavender and lead.” The voice was high-pitched and querulous, neither male nor female, and breath sobbed out of Aderyn as if the speaker was on the verge of collapse.

“What—” Owen began, but the speaker continued.

“The knowledge comes to me by noonlight, by the crimson rays of sunset. I blink, and it’s there in my mind. I have to write it so they will all know by which path comes salvation. The Fated One dances on the sword’s edge because a blunt weapon is no toy for the amateur.”

Isold grunted and made a move as if to grip Aderyn’s hand. Aderyn felt words spilling out of her like a waterfall. “He wants it known. There is a path, a hidden path, too well hidden, which is what the prophecies are for. Set the Fated One on the path to redemption, but redemption for whom? Or is it ‘for who’? I speak the truth, but it doesn’t benefit me. Madness is just another word for truth.”

With a pulse that again made her gag, the light left Aderyn. She rubbed her arm, though the pain vanished as soon as the jagged ball returned to the teapot. Isold was already saying, “Those were all—mostly all—phrases from the prophecies of the Fated One. I think that witness was the originator of them.”

“I thought there were a lot of prophets of the Fated One,” Weston said.

“There are a lot of prophecies. People assumed they came from multiple sources because there are so many. But in my studies, I came to believe they were spoken by just one person because they all sound so similar.” Isold sounded more excited than Aderyn had ever heard him. “I wish we could question him. He must know so much. How old is this witness, Vesper?”

“My guess is around two hundred and twenty-five years,” Vesper said.

“But that makes no sense,” Isold said. “If the level cap is at least three hundred years old, shouldn’t the prophecies about it be the same age?”

“Maybe he was crazy. He sounded crazy,” Owen said. “Confused, at the very least. And he even said he was mad, there at the end. How much benefit can we get from a madman?”

“The prophecies are guide to a hidden path,” Isold said. “They hold information about a secret quest, one the Fated One has to undertake. I would have preferred more details about the quest, but even the confirmation that such a quest exists is valuable.”

“And you said you know all the prophecies and most of the stories,” Livia said.

“I do. This gives me direction for looking at them differently—once we are done here, of course,” Isold said hastily as Owen turned a quelling look on him.

“Right. We still have one witness to find, and you can study prophecies anytime, Isold,” Owen said. “Aderyn, are you doing all right?”

“I’m fine.” She did feel fine, if tired. She was used to walking all day while they were traveling, and this path was an easy one, but she still felt weary the way she would at the end of a mountain trek. Maybe being the voice for the witnesses had more of an effect than she’d noticed. “This is exciting! I want to hear from the next witness. Doesn’t it feel like each one brings us closer to an answer?”

“So far, they’ve been pretty cryptic,” Owen muttered. “I hope hearing from all three puts it into context. You did say it would take three to give us an answer, right, Vesper?”

“That’s right. The witnesses aren’t complete without all of them. One more—and I’ll tell you for free it’s not nearby.” Vesper caught the teapot as Aderyn, rising to her feet, kicked it so it wobbled. The spiky light lifted smoothly from the teapot and flew away. “Don’t worry,” Vesper said to Aderyn’s horrified expression, “it’s not you. I told you they get restless. That one will find another home somewhere.”

This time, Aderyn moved out with greater confidence. She was now used to the path, how it emerged from the dimness just far enough ahead for her to see turns before she stumbled over them, and her eyes had become so accustomed to the dark she thought normal light might blind her. She walked, following the <Wayfinder>, up and down inclines and around corners and through a dozen enormous chambers, unaware of time passing, only conscious of the spinning wheels and the warmth of the glowing red spike.

When she reached the final witness, it was almost a surprise, so used was she to the endless path and the many small lights in the darkness. She lowered her hands to find the <Wayfinder> had led her to a rusty lantern. Traces of black paint still clung to it, there was a hole in the oil reserve, but the glass was not only uncracked, but clean. A little lavender ball of light sailed around inside the glass, swooping and swaying like a purple bee.

Vesper knelt and unscrewed the top of the lantern. “Just there,” she told Aderyn, who folded her hand together and slipped it into the glass chimney. The ball of light circled her fingers, nudging them with the faintest pressure that made Aderyn smell cherries, and then, as if it had made up its mind to trust her, it dove beneath her skin and worked its way to her throat.

“Where should I speak? Into the box?” It was a woman’s voice, clear and confident. “I see. My name is Tarani, and I am the Fated One. I know, many people claim that title, but I’m the only one who has followed the path laid out in the prophecies.” The voice laughed. “Most of them just want the prestige of being known as the Fated One so they can get laid. It works, too. Not that I’ve ever taken advantage of it.”

Isold chuckled. Livia shushed him.

“I’ve completed two of the four tasks the prophecies mention. It is true they have to be undertaken in the right order, which is another thing most would-be Fated Ones miss. No, I’m not going to tell you what they are. Do I look stupid? I’ve done the impossible, and I’m hardly going to make it easy for any challenger. But this next task could kill me, so I’ve agreed to record my witness. If anyone knows to ask the right questions, you’ll find this, and if I failed, that makes you my successor. Look to the prophecies, and if you need a hint, I left a record of my progress in the black rock. I shouldn’t wish you luck, because I’m superstitious, but… good luck.”

Aderyn’s throat convulsed, and she swallowed to clear it as the lavender light flowed back into the lantern. She removed her hand from the glass and massaged it.

A system message filled her vision:

Congratulations! You have completed the quest [Attain Lost Knowledge].

You have been awarded [4000 XP]

Even the knowledge that they’d gained experience didn’t reassure Aderyn. She didn’t feel they’d gained much of anything else, or if they had, it wasn’t anything they could use.

Vesper screwed the lid back on and said, “Well? I can’t say any of that made sense to me, but I’m not the Fated One.”

“That’s amazing,” Isold said. “Tarani. I’ve read about her. She was one of the first to claim the Fated One identity, possibly the first. And we just heard her voice.”

“She said there were four tasks, mentioned in the prophecies,” Weston said. “What black rock, do you think?”

“No idea,” Owen said. Aderyn knew instantly that he was lying. He always did that thing where he flicked his gaze sideways rather than look at the person he was lying to. She was glad of it now, because they shouldn’t discuss anything else in front of Vesper. Vesper had been helpful, but Aderyn sympathized with Tarani—this task was hard enough they shouldn’t make it easy for someone else to follow their trail. That would be worse than telling everyone the secret of Winter’s Peril.

“That was remarkable,” Vesper said to Aderyn. She sounded so honestly admiring Aderyn felt bad about distrusting her. Not bad enough to take her into their confidences, of course. “That thing is nearly as good as a custodian. I’m glad I was privileged to see it work.”

“Thank you for being flexible,” Owen said. “It sounds like we have a long journey ahead of us.”

Aderyn rose and staggered. Owen put a hand under her elbow to steady her. “You’re not okay,” he said.

“I am. Just tired, like I walked farther than usual.”

“That happens with new custodians, the ones who haven’t had much experience being the vessel for the witnesses,” Vesper said. “Walk a while, and you’ll feel better.”

Since she already felt like she’d walked for miles beneath the mountain, Aderyn was skeptical of this advice. On the other hand, it wasn’t as if anyone was going to carry her out of this place, so walking it would have to be.

Chapter Forty

It turned out Vesper was right. Aderyn felt more like herself by the time they returned to the speedy wagon, and when the gate of the Repository closed behind them, she felt invigorated. They hurried down the mountain in the growing dusk and reached Elkenforest just before sunset, thanks to Livia having cleared the path.

The gate guards opened the gates without any commentary on how the friends had nearly been locked out all night. To Aderyn’s surprise, they also didn’t ask for an entrance fee. “You survived Winter’s Peril at level nine,” one of them said when Weston commented. “As far as we’re concerned, you’re all walking miracles, and I wouldn’t dream of asking for something so mundane as an entrance fee from the lot of you.”

At the door of the Starling Inn, Owen stopped them. “We have a lot to discuss, and it ought to be private, but my stomach is howling with hunger. Let’s have dinner and then gather in my room to talk.”

Aderyn had never seen him look so serious. She nodded her agreement with the others, but instead of going to her room to put away her knapsack, she watched him stride down the hall in search of someone to order dinner from. Had he learned something she hadn’t? Suddenly the idea of a quest the Fated One was destined to complete seemed ominous, not exciting.

She set her knapsack in the clothespress and rearranged the cushions on the comfortable chair before settling into it. She was as hungry as Owen had said he was, but she wanted a moment to herself before rejoining her friends. She no longer felt weary physically; she actually felt energetic. But her sense of time was oddly skewed. Interacting with the witnesses felt like it was years in the past, even though the memories of what they’d said were clear and sharp.

She drew up her knees to her chest and sat like that for a few moments. And now her team had direction. Maybe. As clear as the witnesses had been, Aderyn wasn’t sure what they’d learned or if any of it made sense. She sighed and stood. Trying to figure it out on her own was pointless, and she really was hungry. Better to eat, and see what came after.

The meal was as excellent as the one they’d shared the previous night. Aderyn spared a thought for Dashan, who’d left their team with many thanks after last night’s dinner. He’d declined Owen’s invitation to join them permanently. “I’m ready to travel on my own for a while,” he’d said, “and you five already have a solid team. But thanks for the offer.” Aderyn had been secretly grateful. She liked Dashan, but what they had now felt like family, and he was three levels higher. Having him join would always have felt awkward.

Unlike the previous night, nobody spoke much beyond asking someone to pass a particular dish. Aderyn didn’t know what the others were thinking, but for her, speaking at all meant speaking about their visit to the Repository, so it was better she stayed silent. It was hard, though, because the energy she still felt after her experience translated to wanting to chatter about anything that came to mind. She hoped the feeling would pass. She wouldn’t get any sleep otherwise.

Finally, Weston pushed aside his plate, saying, “I’m full,” and they all followed Owen to his room. His suite looked much as Aderyn’s did, but she sneaked a peek at his bed anyway and then felt guilty and embarrassed about it. It was a big bed like hers, and she didn’t know why she cared.

She sat on the hearth rug before the empty fireplace and watched the others take what seats were available, which weren’t many. Owen remained standing. When everyone was settled, he said, “Well. Either we learned a lot, or that just put us back where we started.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way,” Aderyn said in relief.

“I’m with you,” Weston said. “Though I’m leaning toward ‘learned a lot,’ because I have a reputation as an optimist to maintain.”

Owen smiled. “Then let’s go with that. Thoughts?”

“I have been mentally reviewing the prophecies since we left the Repository,” Isold said. “The first thing I decided is that the second witness, the one who spoke of the hidden path, is almost certainly the author of the prophecies. I don’t know what to make of how much time passed between the events that caused the level cap and the prophecies being revealed, but I’m sure of his identity.”

“Why is that important, though?” Livia said. “Does it matter if we know that all the prophecies were written by a single person?”

“What’s important is that the author of the prophecies knew what the point of them was,” Isold said, “which means they all lead to one thing—the ‘hidden path’ or secret quest the Fated One is to undertake. They aren’t meant to identify the Fated One, they’re meant to be his guide.”

“I’ve already forgotten most of what we heard,” Weston said.

“I haven’t,” Aderyn said. As Isold had spoken, the words of the witness had returned to her memory as clearly as if he was speaking them again. “What I want to know is, who is the ‘he’ who wanted the prophecies spoken? Who put those words in the prophet’s head?”

“The system?” Livia suggested. “Or maybe that man, Aurelon. The one who destroyed a city. What was the point of that witness?”

“I think I get it,” Owen said. “The witnesses make a story in time. The first one revealed what happened around the time of the level cap. The second, maybe a hundred years later, was from the prophet who spread all this information about a Fated One who had a secret quest. And the third was a Fated One, maybe the first Fated One, and she left clues about that secret quest.”

Everyone fell silent. Finally, Aderyn said, “Owen, you know what the ‘black rock’ is. I saw you deflect the conversation so we wouldn’t give it away to Vesper.”

“I forget how well you know me,” Owen said with a smile. “Yeah. I think it’s Obsidian. That city on the west coast on Aderyn’s map.”

Weston whistled. “Of course. Black rock. The information is in Obsidian.”

“If it’s still there,” Livia said. “If Owen’s right that that woman was the first Fated One, she would have lived around the same time the prophecies began. That was more than two hundred years ago. Anything might have happened.”

“I love your endless pessimism,” Weston grinned.

“Realism,” Livia said, smiling back at him.

“Redemption,” Aderyn said abruptly. “That ties the first two together. That Aurelon person, he destroyed a city and he didn’t even care. Maybe the system instituted the level cap as… not punishment, exactly, but to prevent anyone getting to a high enough level that they could do that to innocent people. I mean—level fifty. I can barely imagine it.”

“So is the Fated One the system’s instrument in removing the level cap?” Owen mused.

“Maybe. It would make sense if the system was what revealed all those prophecies to that poor madman.” Aderyn’s brain was buzzing along like that magic wagon. “Aurelon does something hideous, the system sets up the level cap, and then—” Her face fell. “No, that can’t be right. If the system is responsible for the level cap, why would it go to all this trouble to get it removed?”

“Unless it was Aurelon who did it. The level cap,” Isold said. “To keep others from becoming powerful enough to challenge him, perhaps?”

“I can’t imagine any adventurer, however powerful, being strong enough to override the system,” Weston said.

“Me neither,” Owen said. “But that’s not what concerns me. The first two witnesses provided background and evidence, by which I mean we now know something about what might have caused the level cap and the fact that the prophecies hide information about the quest the Fated One has to undertake to remove it. But the third witness was too coy. She gave us the thing about Obsidian, but nothing to indicate what the four quests are or where they start. And that was what we wanted—details about what, specifically, the Fated One has to do.”

“Well,” Isold said, then looked pensive.

“She said, ‘look to the prophecies,’” Aderyn said. “And that the third quest was particularly dangerous, and that she left information in Obsidian. And we know she was on the right track, because we asked the right question and it led us to her. I think we need to figure out what she knew.”

“Is that enough?” Livia asked. “It’s like Owen said—suppose the quest requires the Fated One to sacrifice his life? I’d rather live with the level cap another five hundred years.”

“Now that I know how to approach them, I think I can learn something more from the prophecies,” Isold said. “Enough to let us make an informed decision.”

“Or we could travel to Obsidian and find where that woman hid her clues,” Weston said.

“Obsidian is a dangerous place,” Isold said. “We shouldn’t go there until at least level twelve. It’s full of high-level adventurers who will see us as prey. We wouldn’t get away with being under-leveled the way we did in Winter’s Peril.”

“So we do some quests, kill some monsters, level up and go. It’s not complicated.”

“That could take time. I’m sure, given a few days, I’ll figure something out.”

“But it will still be guesswork, no offense—”

“Enough,” Owen said. “We need to make a decision, but it’s been a long day and I’m too tired to be rational. Let’s sleep on it and see if it makes more sense in the morning.”

Weston nodded. “I’m not saying you won’t learn things,” he told Isold.

“No, I understood you,” Isold replied. “And to be perfectly honest, research needs to have an end point. Otherwise no one would ever get anything done. I simply believe we shouldn’t fly off with no preparation. Three days, maybe four, and we’ll know something.”

“That’s not unreasonable,” Weston said. “And we shouldn’t be in a rush, no matter what we decide to do. Though if we—”

“Stop talking,” Owen said, pretending to be irritable but concealing a laugh. “It’s like you didn’t hear me. Get out of my room. Now. Take your discussion to the taproom if you’re not ready for sleep.”

“Taproom,” Weston said brightly. “A nice mug of ale—”

Livia silenced him with a finger to his lips. “I’m going to bed,” she said in a low, meaningful voice.

“I’m actually too tired for a drink, now I think about it,” Weston said. “Good night, all.”

Chapter Forty-One

Aderyn said good night to the others and retreated to her room, where she again sat in the cushioned chair rather than getting ready for bed. She still wasn’t sleepy, and her mind continued rattling on, circling round and round the words the witnesses had said until they mingled together in memory. Even then, she remembered who’d said what as clearly as if each speaker’s words were outlined in different-colored lights. Though two of the witnesses had been blue, so that wasn’t accurate.

She was contemplating the bell rope, thinking about calling for a glass of something to calm her, when a knock on the door startled her. “Aderyn? Are you awake?”

She opened the door. “I can’t sleep,” she told Owen.

“Neither can I. I was going for a walk, want to come?”

She didn’t need to think hard about that. “All right.”

The streets of Elkenforest near the Starling Inn were brightly lit all night, something Aderyn knew because one of those lights shone near her window and she’d put a blanket over the glass so she could get some sleep. She and Owen walked at a leisurely pace past inns and taverns, brightly lit and resounding with music and laughter. The noise calmed Aderyn as nothing else had that evening.

She glanced at Owen, who had his head bowed and seemed focused on his feet. “You know,” she said, “it’s a good thing this is a nice neighborhood, because inattentive adventurers get mugged.”

He smiled. “How surprised a mugger would be to attack the two of us.”

“That’s true. Level nine, Owen! It feels like no time at all since we were killing diseased rats on the road to Market Warding.”

“It is no time at all. That was—” He counted on his fingers— “five weeks ago. Is that fast?”

“I have no idea. Though I’ve heard leveling slows down a lot after level ten.” She eyed him again. He still seemed like he had something on his mind. “What are you thinking about? You look like it’s something serious.”

“Just wondering about the Fated One’s Destiny quest. I hoped we’d get more specific direction from the Repository. Like, say, ‘go to Branlight and retrieve the treasure from a dungeon there.’ Even ‘go to Obsidian’ puts the information off a step. But I guess wanting that was unreasonable. If it was that easy, someone would have done it before now.”

“Do you want to do something else? You don’t have to be the Fated One just because we found some information.” She didn’t like the way his shoulders sagged, like he’d already given up not just on the Fated One quest, but on adventuring.

“You know that’s not true.” Owen idly kicked a loose stone that ricocheted off the nearest gutter. “I am the Fated One. It’s not a matter of choice. The system brought me here for that purpose—you heard Winter’s Peril. And if that’s true, I don’t want to go fumbling along trying to work out the path and maybe getting us all killed doing it. I want to have direction. I want someone to say ‘do this, go there, kill that monster’ and have it be done.”

“Oh,” Aderyn said, feeling stupid. “You don’t… well, of course you don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t see the beauty in doing something no one’s been able to do for hundreds of years. Owen, I know this isn’t your world, so maybe it makes sense that you don’t feel connected to it or anything it might need. But to me, your destiny is the promise of something wonderful. People used to get to level fifty and beyond! Can you imagine what they were capable of?”

“Destroying cities and slaughtering dragons, apparently.”

“I’m serious. They couldn’t all have used their skills and magic for destruction, or we wouldn’t be here, we’d be part of the rubble. I know it wasn’t a perfect time, because what is? But it’s a time I’d like to see come again. What if their magic could do things for people the way your world’s technology does? And don’t say anything depressing about how technology does bad things too. It’s all about what people do with it, magic or technology. I just want our world to have the chance.”

They’d reached a corner where two taverns faced each other. The owners appeared to be having a competition to see whose music could drown out the other. Owen took Aderyn’s arm and steered her down a quiet side street. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” he said.

“I used to daydream about the level cap being gone,” she confessed. “I would think of the most powerful spell I’d heard of and imagine ways it could be even more powerful, or I would imagine great duels between master warriors that always ended in defeat rather than death, when the winner would teach the loser a new move. To me, the possibility of higher levels has always been a positive one.”

Owen squeezed her arm with his free hand. “Now I feel selfish for disdaining my destiny.”

“No! I didn’t mean—”

“Calm down, Aderyn, I know you didn’t. I was joking. Mostly.” He let out a deep breath. “I’ve never liked feeling obligated to do things. I want to make my own choices, not be manipulated into choosing, even if it’s something good. So some of my resistance comes from that.”

“I was serious about you not having to be the Fated One. Screw the system.”

Owen laughed. “You learned that expression from me.”

“I like it. It feels powerful.”

“Yeah.” He sobered, and added, “Wouldn’t ignoring my destiny make me selfish?”

“Owen, you were dragged out of your world into mine. You didn’t choose that. Why should you feel obligated to do anything just because you’ve been assigned a role?” An idea struck her. “I know! Let’s figure out what the Fated One is supposed to do and then tell one of these other Fated One wannabes so they can fulfil the quest!”

Owen burst out laughing. “Aderyn, that is both the silliest and the nicest thing I’ve ever heard. And I know what I have to do now.”

“I’m sure there’s at least one other Fated One staying at the Starling Inn. Let’s find out.”

“I’m serious. I want to complete this quest. When you said that about giving it to someone else, my first instinct was—I don’t know how to describe the emotion. It’s how you feel when you first learn something is important to you because someone tries to take it away. I think I’d hate myself if I didn’t at least try.”

Aderyn stopped beneath one of the street lamps. Someone brushed past, and reflexively she checked her belt purse, but most of her attention was on Owen, who’d stopped a few steps away when she did. “Please tell me it’s not because I manipulated you into it.”

“You’ve never manipulated me. You just showed me the truth.” Owen tilted his head back as if to look at the stars, though they couldn’t be visible past the lamp. “Like always.”

Aderyn didn’t know what to say. She felt awkward as she never did around him, like he’d offered her a gift she wasn’t sure how to accept. “I hope I always will.”

“Until your true love swoops in and carries you away,” Owen said with a smile.

Aderyn didn’t smile back. The idea of being carried away by someone who wasn’t Owen had lost its appeal. “I suppose. I’d still be your partner.”

“You don’t think he’d object?”

Aderyn shrugged. “If he was the right man, no.”

“And you’ll know he’s the right man because his declaration of love will sweep you off your feet.”

Aderyn drew in an outraged breath. “I know you think I’m ridiculous, but don’t make fun.”

“I’m not! I just—I know that means everything to you, that it’s something you really want.” Owen returned to her side. “It is, right?”

Aderyn nodded miserably.

Owen blew out his breath. “I tried, Aderyn,” he said. “I swear I tried. I must have written half a dozen speeches, or the beginnings of speeches. One of them rhymed. But they all sounded stupid, or overblown, or insincere. It’s just not who I am.”

Aderyn stared at him, so astonished she couldn’t speak.

“I wanted to, so badly, because I know hearing those words means everything to you,” Owen continued, “and I wanted this to be something you’d remember forever, some great declaration you could keep locked in your heart. So maybe—I don’t know. You said you thought the words would naturally follow if the feeling was there, and maybe that means you won’t believe me when all I can say is, I love you. But I hoped those words would be enough.”

Dizziness struck her, and without thinking she put out a hand to steady herself and realized she’d clasped his. “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, and threw herself into his arms.

She hit him with enough force that he took a step back as his arms went around her to keep them both from falling. “You don’t have to mock me,” he said, and he sounded so miserable, so hurt, her heart wanted to break.

“I’m not,” she said, her voice thick with the beginnings of tears, “I swear I’m not. I thought I knew what I wanted, but it turns out all I wanted was you.”

His arms closed on her more tightly. “But you—”

“Oh, shut up already about how stupid I was to think flowery words mattered, all right?” She tilted her head back to look at him. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. You said it wouldn’t be bad if we were more than friends, and then that was all, so I thought you’d changed your mind.”

“Well, you did shut me down pretty hard back in Guerdon Deep. Saying it wasn’t something we should pursue.”

“Because you were going back to your own world, Owen.”

“Ah. Well, now I feel stupid.”

Aderyn smiled. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? Since we were both stupid in our own special way.”

“Oh, I’ve been far stupider than you realize,” Owen said with a wry smile. “I asked Weston how to court a woman in this world, obliquely because I didn’t want him to know I meant you, and I managed to give him the impression that it was Livia I was interested in. Hence his spectacular blow-up.”

Aderyn gasped. “No. Oh, no wonder he was upset. But it was a mistake, and it led to him and Livia being together, so you shouldn’t think of yourself as stupid.”

“That’s not all. I thought, if you loved romantic gestures, I could bring you flowers and maybe that would cover my lack of romantic sensibilities.”

“That would have been beautiful! Why didn’t you?”

Owen gave her a look and waited.

Realization struck, and she covered her mouth to hold back a laugh. “The [Beauty’s Hold Trap]?”

Owen nodded. His face was crimson, but he was still smiling. “It’s like your world was conspiring against me.”

“I’m glad you spoke. And that you didn’t try any of those failed speeches—though, there was one that rhymed? Can I hear that one?”

Owen laughed. “I almost didn’t say anything tonight. But you were so determined to protect me, and you are so beautiful, I thought—if she shoots me down, at least I’ll know.”

Aderyn rested her head against his shoulder and held him tighter. “I wouldn’t do that. I love you, Owen.”

Owen sighed deeply. “I was right,” he said. “Those few words are enough.” He gently put a hand beneath her chin, tilted her head so she faced him, and kissed her.

She’d never been kissed before, and the sensation of his lips on hers thrilled through her, tingling and electric. She pulled him closer to her, wanting so badly to feel the strength and heat of his body against hers. It felt so much different than hugging; hugging was for friendship and comfort, but this was intimate in a different way, her awareness of the shape of him and how her body fit to his. And it was Owen, her partner, her love, and that knowledge roused her passion further. She kissed him, not caring that she didn’t know what she was doing, because he was kissing her, his hands caressed her body, and it wasn’t until he broke away from her with a gasp that she remembered they were in the middle of a public street and people were staring.

Owen cradled her face in his hands, running his thumbs over her cheekbones. “I think we provided free entertainment there for a minute.”

“I know. I don’t mind.” She turned her head and kissed his palm. “We should go back.”

“Yeah. It’s getting late.” Owen clasped her hand and led her back to the main street. The noise had become thunderous, but Aderyn was content not to try to talk over it, not with Owen’s hand in hers.

The farther they walked, though, the more agitated Aderyn’s feelings became. What did Owen expect from her? Was he planning on sex? She knew how sex worked, thanks to her mother’s instructions, and kissing had felt like a marvelous prelude to it, but things were moving so fast—and it wasn’t as if she had any practical experience, so what if she was a disappointment? What if terrible sex ruined the blissful feeling they shared now?

By the time they reached the Starling Inn, Aderyn’s palms were sweating and her heart beat faster than Isold’s drum. She wasn’t sure what to say to turn Owen down, if sex was what he wanted, though maybe she didn’t want to turn him down, which was its own complication—

Owen didn’t let go of her hand as they entered the inn and ascended the stairs. Aderyn started to feel sick. That couldn’t be a good sign. “Owen,” she said.

“I think we have to go to Obsidian,” Owen said, with the air of someone who’d been considering something for a while.

Disappointment that he hadn’t been thinking about her warred with surprise at his abruptness. “Why? What changed your mind?”

“Because that’s the most direct route. Whatever is there will tell us the first step to the quest. It’s still dangerous, and we don’t know how to find whatever Tarani left behind or even if it’s still there after all these years, but the alternative is poring over the prophecies, trying to replicate her research. I’m sure Isold—”

A door farther along the hall banged open, and Isold emerged, slamming it shut behind him. “Oh, good, I was coming to talk to you,” he said, approaching Owen at speed. “I know we agreed we’d discuss it in the morning, but I had trouble sleeping, so I started copying out the prophecies—so we could all read over them, you see—and I remembered something.”

“This can’t wait until morning?” Owen said.

“It won’t take long. I remembered something about Tarani. She was born in Obsidian, and that’s probably why she left her records there. They turned her house into a memorial.”

Owen gripped Aderyn’s hand tighter. “A memorial?”

“Yes. If her records are anywhere, they’re in that memorial. So it’s not as impossible as I thought. Obsidian is still crawling with high-level adventurers who may challenge us, but—”

“You’re right, that’s important,” Owen said. “But at the risk of sounding ungrateful, I want to discuss this in the morning. Go to bed, Isold. Your own or someone else’s, whatever you want.”

Isold smiled wickedly. “Well, I—” His gaze fell on Owen and Aderyn’s joined hands, and his smile deepened. “Well. You should take your own advice, then. What a lovely evening. I’ll see you both in the morning.” He turned and strolled back to his room, whistling.

Owen clasped Aderyn’s other hand so they were facing each other. “It is getting late,” he said.

Aderyn nodded. She was back to being too nervous to speak. Fortunately, they’d stopped at her room, so she could make her escape. If she wanted to. Why did love and sex have to be so complicated?

“I’m not going to pressure you,” Owen went on. “I know this is all going very fast, and I don’t know what you expect or what you want. I love you, and I want you to be happy. So all I will say is you’re welcome to join me tonight, and if not tonight, whenever you’re ready.”

Aderyn’s fears melted. “And you said you didn’t know how to make perfect speeches.”

He smiled, a delighted, amused expression. “Maybe you were right that the perfect words follow the feeling when the feeling is powerful. Good night, Aderyn.”

He leaned in to kiss her. Aderyn put her arms around him and held him when he would have pulled away. She whispered, “Let’s say ‘good morning’ instead,” and drew him with her into her room.

Appendix: Character Sheets

NOTE: These character sheets represent the status of the companions at the end of the book, which means it reveals everything the companions learn about their skills throughout the story. If you haven’t finished the book, don’t read this unless you don’t mind spoilers!

Name: Aderyn

Class: Warmaster

Level: 9

Skills: Bluff (6), Climb (1), Conversation (5), Intimidate (3), Sense Truth (9), Survival (3), Swim (1), Knowledge: Monsters (8), Knowledge: Demons (1)

Class Skills: Improved Assess 2 (14), Awareness (9), Knowledge: Geography (6), Spot (7), Discern Weakness (12), Dodge (9), Improvised Distraction (6), Outflank (9), Draw Fire (2), Keep Pace (8), Amplify Voice (6), See It Coming (5), Basic Weapon Proficiency (Swords) (3)

*italics are paired skills with partner

Name: Jacob Owen Lindberg

Class: Swordsworn

Level: 9

Skills: Assess (6), Awareness (8), Climb (5), Conversation (6), Sense Truth (8), Spot (6), Survival (2), Swim (10), Knowledge: Demons (1)

Class Skills: Improved Weapon Proficiency (15), Improved Armor Proficiency (9), Knowledge: Monsters (7), Exploit Weakness (12), Dodge (10), Parry (8), Improved Bluff (8), Outflank (9), Trip (2), Keep Pace (8), Disarm (1), Intimidate (3), Charge (0)

*italics are paired skills with Warmaster

Name: Weston

Class: Moonlighter

Level: 9

Skills: Assess (7), Climb (4), Conversation (6), Intimidate (4), Sense Truth (9), Survival (4), Swim (2), Knowledge: Social (6), Knowledge: Demons (1)

Class Skills: Pick Locks (6), Improved Sneak Attack (10), Improved Weapons Proficiency (9), Improved Armor Proficiency (7), Detect Traps (9), Disable Traps (6), Spot (13), Awareness (10), Dodge (10), Stealth (11), Improved Bluff (9), Dirty Fighting (5), To the Heart (8), Hide (3), Basic Thrown Weapons Proficiency (1), Disguise (0), Hide in Plain Sight (1), Evasion (2)

Name: Isold

Class: Herald

Level: 9

Skills: Assess (9), Awareness (9), Climb (3), Conversation (9), Intimidate (2), Sense Truth (8), Spot (7), Survival (2), Swim (1), Knowledge: Demons (2)

Class Skills: Perform (singing) (12); Knowledge: Magic (8); Knowledge: Monsters (9); Knowledge: History (6); Knowledge: Social (5); Knowledge: World Lore (8); Identify Magic Items (8); Charm (10); Distraction (7); Map Access (6); Inspire Courage (4); Fascination (4); Persuasion (5); Perform (drum) (4); Suggestion (2)

Name: Livia

Class: Earthbreaker

Level: 9

Skills: Assess (5), Awareness (6), Bluff (3), Climb (1), Conversation (5), Intimidate (8), Sense Truth (6), Spot (6), Survival (1), Swim (1), Knowledge: Demons (1)

Elemental Powers: Earth, stone

Class Skills: Knowledge: Magic (9), Perceive Magic (9), Elemental Blast (earth spray, shower of small stones, rain of large stones) (11), Earth to Mud/Mud to Earth (4), Mage Armor (shifting stone slabs) (5), Excavate (2)

Spell List

0-level spells: Daze; Drench; Light; Telekinesis, minor; Mending; Freezing Ray, minor; Root; Spark

1st Level spells

Air Bubble; Break; Force Shield; Grease; Heat Metal (slow); Loose Bonds; Mudball; Sunder Weapon; Thunder Punch

2nd Level spells

Create Pit; Dust Cloud; Earth’s Endurance; Thunderstomp; Mirror Image; Mud Minion; Improved Mending; Protection from Fire, Mass (big earth dome); Skip

3rd Level spells

Iron Spike Attack; Thunderstomp, Greater (directed); Clairvoyance; Dispel Magic; Immobilize; Telekinesis, Greater; Daylight

4th Level spells

Stone Ladder; Stone Sphere; Transport; Invisibility

About the Author

In addition to the Warmaster series, Melissa McShane is the author of many fantasy novels, including the novels of Tremontane, the first of which is Servant of the Crown; The Extraordinaries series, beginning with Burning Bright; and The Book of Secrets, first book in The Last Oracle series.

While her home remains in the mountains out West with her family and two very needy cats, she currently lives in Kerala, India. She wrote reviews and critical essays for many years before turning to fiction, which is much more fun than anyone ought to be allowed to have.

You can visit her at her website www.melissamcshanewrites.com for more information on other books and upcoming releases.

To subscribe to her newsletter, which is published monthly, click here.

Also by Melissa McShane

WARMASTER

Warmaster 1: Dungeon Spiteful

Warmaster 2: Winter’s Peril

Warmaster 3: Gamboling Coil (forthcoming June 2024)

THE BOOKS OF THE DARK GODDESS

Silver and Shadow

Missing by Moonlight

Shades of the Past

Path of the Paladin

Bright Moon Deception (forthcoming 2024)

THE LAST ORACLE

The Book of Secrets

The Book of Peril

The Book of Mayhem

The Book of Lies

The Book of Betrayal

The Book of Havoc

The Book of Harmony

The Book of War

The Book of Destiny

THE LIVING ORACLE

Hidden Realm

Hidden Enemy

Hidden Pursuit (forthcoming)

THE EXTRAORDINARIES

Burning Bright

Wondering Sight

Abounding Might

Whispering Twilight

Liberating Fight

Beguiling Birthright

Soaring Flight

Discerning Insight

THE NOVELS OF TREMONTANE

Pretender to the Crown

Guardian of the Crown

Champion of the Crown

Ally of the Crown

Stranger to the Crown

Scholar of the Crown

Servant of the Crown

Exile of the Crown

Rider of the Crown

Agent of the Crown

Voyager of the Crown

Tales of the Crown

COMPANY OF STRANGERS

Company of Strangers

Stone of Inheritance

Mortal Rites

Shifting Loyalties

Sands of Memory

Call of Wizardry

THE DRAGONS OF MOTHER STONE

Spark the Fire

Faith in Flames

Ember in Shadow

Skies Will Burn

THE CONVERGENCE TRILOGY

The Summoned Mage

The Wandering Mage

The Unconquered Mage

THE BOOKS OF DALANINE

The Smoke-Scented Girl

The God-Touched Man

Emissary

Warts and All: The Deluxe Expanded Edition

The View from Castle Always

Winter Across Worlds: A Holiday Collection