Cold water soaking through his boots, Segwyn lifted his feet, bracing them on the edge of the seat in front, on either side of Whydah. “How bad is it?” He risked a glance at the bottom of the boat as he worked the rudder.

  Lunish was on her knees, palms pressed against the wooden hull. “Bad enough!”

  “You and Iskvold have to deal with it. The rest of us are a bit occupied at the moment!”

  The flash of a lightning bolt a few feet underwater sent ripples of static into the air above the waterline, followed by a long silver corpse bobbing lifelessly to the surface.

  “Got him!” the wizard called out triumphantly. “Take your shots while they’re coming around, before they start their approach.” The flash of movement in his peripheral vision gave Glynfir just enough time to brace himself on the gunwale as another creature struck the keel under Whydah’s feet.

  “I’m getting wet!” the halfling called, water pooling at her feet.

  “They’re trying to sink us. If the boat goes down, we’re at their mercy,” the ranger announced, before another guiding bolt streaked from Tsuta’s hand into the river.

  Despite the frenzy of activity, the tabby remained motionless in the front, sheltering himself against the interior curve of the bow.

  “Two more starboard!” the bald monk said, the glow around his hands already intensifying for another strike. “I think the lights are attracting them!”

  Iskvold scrambled out of her seat, forward one row as Whydah raised her feet. “I’m on it! Lunish, any suggestions?”

  “Freeze!” Lunish yelled, pointing her finger at the growing puddle around the leak. Green energy raced from her fingertips, cascading across the growing pool in the boat’s hull. Faint cracks accompanied the water’s solidification, an unseen icicle stretching into the river below the hole, over four feet in length. “I’m using Shape Water to freeze the leak. Maybe it will keep us afloat for a while.”

  “I know that one!” Iskvold replied, white energy glowing from her hands as she summoned her Ki. “Freeze!” The drow’s execution mimicked Lunish’s.

  “Seems to be holding for now.” Lunish updated from the back row.

  Segwyn said what they were all thinking. “We can’t keep this up. They just keep coming.”

  “Mustache, let your lights drift back behind the boat,” Tsuta suggested. “And everyone stay totally quiet. Don’t move. Maybe we can confuse them long enough to get to shore.”

  “Worth a shot,” Glynfir confirmed, flicking his wrist. The four submerged globes held position, drifting further behind the crippled vessel with every passing second.

  “I have the beacon!” Whydah hissed urgently. “A thousand feet downstream, portside.”

  Segwyn pulled hard on their makeshift rudder, turning the boat directly into the shore. “Close enough for me!”

  “Shh!” Tsuta did his best impression of a scolding librarian.

  The occupants all held their breath as the boat limped across the final fifty feet of open water, bracing for a collision that never came. The snapping of branches from the bow announced their arrival at the shore.

  “Bird, we’re here. Get out!” Whydah whispered urgently. The words seemed to unlock the tabby’s anxiety, his eyes snapping open. In one smooth motion, he rose, turned, and, placing one foot on the edge of the bow, leapt for the shore, mooring rope in hand.

  The others started to stand just before Bird hauled on the mooring line, bringing the boat in closer, causing Lunish and Whydah to pitch backwards. The halfling’s elbow thudded against the hull when she went down, the sound echoing across the water.

  Iskvold scooped her up, dashing nimbly across the seat tops, the others right behind her, all scrambling for the safety of the land. Following the drow’s lead, Segwyn hoisted Lunish into his arms at the rear of the group. When his foot braced against the tip of the bow, preparing to leap, another loud crack echoed from the rear of the boat. The movement pitched the ranger and his gnomish package forward, into the arms of his waiting friends, and they all watched water rush in through the shattered transom, the surrounding water frothing from the creatures’ frenzied, if fruitless, attack. The rear of the vessel went under first, lifting the bow from the water’s surface before it lurched back from the shore, and the boat’s remains silently surrendered to the river’s depth and its hungry occupants.

  Recalling her fall on the ride from Chagrothlond, Glynfir repeated the incantation for Dancing Lights, and four glowing orbs materialized overhead, lighting the halfling’s path as she picked her way down the shoreline.

  Tsuta clasped Bird’s shoulder. “Good to have you back, Whiskers.”

  “Any other debilitating fears we need to know about?” Segwyn’s words were terse and clipped when he brushed past after Whydah. “You were a total liability out there.”

  One by one, they began to thread their way along the shore, following their magical tracker, until only Iskvold and Bird remained.

  Seeing the tabby’s glum expression, Iskvold wrapped one arm around his shoulder, pulling him along with her after the others. “Don’t sweat it. I wasn’t much help either.”

  Bird snorted. “No, Woodsy’s right. You had your main attack completely nullified, and just learned of your mother’s direct nearby involvement with the Dominion, and still managed to help keep the boat from sinking.” He shook his head, lips pressed tight in disappointment. “I was too proud to mention a phobia that nearly drowned us all. We’re not the same, Pinky.”

  “Do you think she’s compelled, or joined the Dominion willingly?” Tears swelled in the drow’s pink eyes.

  Bird stopped, taking her by the shoulders. “Look, I am admittedly not the most empathetic person you could have asked, but, for what it’s worth, I think someone who was a part of the Dominion by choice, who really believed in it, wouldn’t think twice about dragging their kid along.” Her eyes came up, meeting his. “Whereas a mother who chooses to leave her daughter behind, with an abbey full of monks, and cuts off contact for over twenty years? That sounds like someone making a very hard choice to shield their child from something terrible.”

  “So, there’s hope!” Iskvold brightened.

  Bird nodded. “I’d say so. If we are somehow able to defeat her, and break the bond…”

  “Ha!” They both looked up to see Whydah, under the glow of the magical orbs, thrust her hand into the air, clutching Lunish’s old, crumpled hat.

  Up ahead, Glynfir’s voice drifted through the darkness. “I didn’t realize you used your favorite hat as the locator beacon, Lulu?”

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

  “First off,” the gnome scoffed, “it’s my only hat, and I don’t wear it anymore after being mistaken for a grubby little boy.” Her shoulders flexed in a slight shrug. “Whydah knew exactly what it looked like, so why not?”

  The tabby stopped, causing Iskvold to do the same, still several yards behind the rest. “How do I make things right with the others?”

  The drow’s face stretched into a sympathetic smile. “Own it. Like you just did with me. If I’ve learned one thing about this group, every one of us is a long way from perfect. They’ll understand. Just don’t wait too long.” With that, she gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze and walked on.

  At the sound of the door latch, Turin pivoted to face his returning guests. “Well, well, look what the mythal dragged in. I hope you’re hungry!”

  “Starved!” Lunish confirmed as the first through the door. “I haven’t eaten since the market this morning. What’s in the pot, my hedge?”

  Turin stroked his beard, twirling his cauldron spoon with a flourish. “I hope you don’t mind Fairy Fowl for a second night?”

  “Are you kidding?” Whydah said as she crossed the cottage’s threshold. “They were so tasty I could eat them every day!”

  “Good thing. They tend to dominate my menu in various forms.” Returning the spoon to the bubbling pot on the fire, he crossed to the countertop. “I did, however, expand my collection of dinnerware.” Raising a stack of bowls and spoons triumphantly into the air, his face broke into a grin. “Tonight we can have stew and wine at the same time! Well? Don’t keep a suspicious druid in suspense. Break out that magic jug and tell me how it went!”

  “We have a lot to talk about.” Glynfir, taking a seat on the cottage’s only bed, removed his sodden boots.

  Over the next twenty minutes, with six pairs of damp footwear lined up on the hearth, the group began piecing together everything they learned that day.

  Turin laid the two pieces of folded parchment on the table. “So, these sowers your man describes are different from the reapers you mentioned yesterday?”

  “Two separate jobs,” Tsuta confirmed. “The sowers are the Dominion’s arm of political power, influence, and manipulation, whereas the reapers are the muscle, the foot soldiers.”

  “That tracks with what we saw at the warehouse,” Segwyn agreed. “The three on stage were definitely the ones calling the shots or, at least, implementing the Red Queen’s instructions.”

  “And she decides during the conversion process who will do what?”

  “I think it’s more gruesome than that.” Iskvold reached across the table, picking up the two letters from Ferrier, before flipping to the bottom piece of correspondence. “He says here that during the ritual, she was inside his mind, knew everything about him, and forced him to make the choice—accept the bond and serve her instructions, or forfeit his soul to her appetite.”

  “Not much of a choice,” Lunish muttered, “but better than the alternative.” Her face was grim. “If you read a bit further, he says that several presented before him in the ritual had their souls extracted, corpses cast aside into a pile in seconds.”

  “I think she mentally audits them. If they have skills or influence helpful to her cause, they’re given the choice.” Iskvold shuddered, a prickle running up her spine. “If not, they’re just fuel, and she moves on to the next victim.”

  “Victim,” Iskvold repeated the word, quietly to herself. “I think that’s how we need to think of them. As victims. At least, some of them.”

  Turin crossed to the hearth, lifting the cauldron off its stand before beginning to dish out the evening meal.

  Glynfir let out a low whistle. “That’s cold. It also explains the mood in the warehouse. Those weren’t fervent followers in there. The crowd was, at best, mildly hostile towards the sowers and the Red Queen.” He looked at Segwyn for confirmation.

  The ranger nodded in agreement. “And there was something else. When we triggered the curse on the speaker, the reaction was much stronger than you described with Ferrier. It was like the man was boiled from the inside out.”

  Whydah rose and began helping their host pass out bowls of stew. “Interesting. I wonder if the reaction of her bonding curse varies depending on the scale of the perceived offence. Or was she actually watching and gave it a little something extra?”

  “I think she was watching,” Glynfir said matter-of-factly. “Narz’l was there as well, perched up by the roofline. I’ll bet she was watching through his eyes. That means she was close.”

  Segwyn retrieved the Jug of Alchemy from the counter. “I couldn’t believe they confirmed they’re in control of The Hub. When he asked for volunteers to go to Celben…” Raising both hands to his head, he flexed his fingers outward, making a sound resembling an explosion.

  Lunish gobbled a bite of stew before pointing the cutlery at Bird, who was sitting silently on the floor, back against the wall. “That was really clever to feed them fake information. Now we know to cut the Hub off completely.”

  “Quite the contrary,” Bird replied, his voice somewhat subdued. “It’s far more valuable than that.”

  “How so?” Iskvold pressed him.

  “If the Dominion trusts the Hub’s information, and acts without checking it first, we’re going to feed them a steady stream of misdirection, at least until they catch on.”

  Tsuta shook his head. “I don’t understand,” drowned out by Turin’s startling cackle of laughter.

  The tabby placated his friend. “Of course you don’t, Stick. To you, everything is black and white.”

  The druid jumped to his feet, ignoring the wine sloshing over the edge of his cup, running down his hand and onto the floor. “That’s some serious spy craft, that is! Pure genius!” His eyes narrowed, his gaze locked on Bird. “Are you sure you don’t want to take this up as a profession?”

  The tabby pouted, adding a faint head shake. “Unless there’s something to steal, it doesn’t interest me.”

  Taking in the quizzical looks around the room, Turin elaborated, his tone quick and clipped. “He’s saying we deliberately feed the Hub details that aren’t true, to make the Dominion do something, or be somewhere completely unrelated to our plans.”

  Segwyn tilted his head back in thought. “So, if we needed to infiltrate a location to steal the Red Queen’s phylactery, for example—” he cast a grin around the room, eyebrows arched high. “—we would tell them about a significant but fictitious threat happening somewhere else at about the same time, to ensure our privacy?”

  “Precisely!” Turin hopped excitedly on one foot, tugging fiercely on his beard.

  Nods and smiles rose on all faces, recognizing the power of this new weapon added to their arsenal, before Whydah’s attention came back to Bird. “This is the kind of thing that usually has you bouncing around, as excited as him.” She cast a thumb over her shoulder at Turin. “But, you’re not. What’s going on, Bird? Spit it out.”

  The tabby hung his head. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his hands against his knees and rose to his feet. “Two things. First, I owe you all another apology.” He glanced at Iskvold with a half-smile. The drow returned a full smile and a nod. “I put everyone in danger tonight. I let my pride keep me from telling you all about my fear of the water.”

  He returned his gaze to the floor. “You trust me with your lives all the time, going along with all the crazy schemes I cook up. Tonight, everyone could have paid the ultimate price, all because of my ego. “The room was silent when he looked up again, cycling around to meet everyone’s gaze. “Working with a group, with these kinds of stakes, is new to me.” He smiled at Whydah. “Usually it’s just me and Tiny, over there, and she knows me very well.” He grimaced. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I recognize that if we’re going to find and steal a Lich’s phylactery and stay alive, I need to show you all the same trust you’ve shown me. I’m sorry for not letting you know how badly that little boat ride would affect me. I’ll do better from here on out. You deserve better.”

  They sat in momentary silence until Lunish spoke. “Just for the record, I think it’s ironically delicious that you and I are now on opposite sides of a nearly identical conversation we had sitting around a fire, after Grym died.” She hopped off her stool and crossed the floor, laying a hand on Bird’s arm. “First off, none of us is perfect, we’re all just trying to do the best we can. That said, I’m going to repeat something you said that night that really stuck with me. I’m just going to change a couple of words.” She reached up, grabbing the front of his leathers, pulling his face down to her level, and looked him square in the eye, the smell of stew hot on her breath. “You could be a real badass leader, if you think differently about how you use other people when you’re playing to your strengths.”

  She raised her eyebrows suggestively, holding his gaze for a moment before pushing him upright. “We’re your friends.” She paused. “More than that, we’ve become more like a family. Just have that in mind when you’re putting together those crazy schemes, and trust us like we trust you.” She patted his forearm twice amid a chorus of support from the others. Bird’s face brightened before she returned to her stool. “Now, you said there were two things. What’s the second?”

  Bird pressed his palms together in thanks, bowing first toward Lunish, then to the others. “Well…” He drew in a long breath and exhaled. “I’m worried about coming up with a plan that will bring my friends—” a second nod to Lunish, “—up close and personal with the Lich that is trying to kill us, in less than twenty-four hours.” His expression was grim. “At least one of us has to get within arm’s reach while she’s extracting souls if we’re going to grab that phylactery. If I make one mistake…” He let the sentence hang in the silence.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma and The Siremirian Conundrum?

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