As we made our way back to the shrine, Gregor was busy trying to decide what to do with the dragon’s skin. “Boots? Maybe. Or a new coat? Would look quite good. Gloves are another option. What do you think?” he asked all of us.
“A belt, maybe?” Burin suggested.
“Some armor?” Terry offered.
“Dragonskin stiletto pumps and a matching clutch so that bitch Becky who keeps flaunting the mink coat that her daddy bought her goes green with envy?” I suggested.
“I…do not understand almost anything you just said,” Gregor replied to me.
“Help me out here, Bella,” I said to the singer standing next to me carrying a sleepy child.
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what pumps or a clutch are, but I believe that I understand the sentiment. Yes. If those would cause envy, then I believe this Becky deserves seeing you in them, from what you have said.”
I beamed at the confused fighter. “See?” I said, triumphant in my vindication.
Gregor frowned. “I do not know this Becky, but I will consider it.” I somehow managed to not giggle imagining the fighter in a pair of stiletto pumps.
Greta was waiting for us when we returned to the shrine. “The Iron Guard is focusing its efforts on capturing a weapons depot on the far side of the city. We should have little trouble getting to the market square, though I did hear that there might be a token guard force left behind.”
“That’s no problem for the machine of death,” Terry said.
Greta gave me a questioning look. “Don’t ask,” I whispered.
“So you really killed Logrivich?” she asked us instead.
“He was almost as big as the last dragon we fought,” Burin commented.
“You fought another dragon?” Greta asked me.
I shook my head. “Just him and the girl. It killed them. Or didn’t. We’re not entirely certain what exactly happened.”
“You have the weirdest friends, dear,” she replied. “So, shall we go recover that hut you need?”
“Sure,” I said. I turned to Bella. “The Milani acolytes can take you to Solveig and will make sure that the kids are taken care of.”
“Thank you for your help, all of you,” the singer told us. “May I give you something to thank you?” she asked.
“No reward is necessary,” Burin told her.
“That just makes it even more so,” Bella replied. “Please, if I may?” She cleared her throat and began to sing. I recognized it as a piece from an old Chelish opera that had recently become popular again amongst the nobility in Magnimar. It tells the tale of a young hero and a beautiful maiden and is among the very few operas from the era that has a happy ending.
Or at least, that’s what my parents told me.
When she was done, we thanked her for her beautiful song and headed out. Part of me hoped that one day someone would pen an opera about our exploits. Another part of me hoped that if they did, they glossed over a lot of things.
Things like the pair that was waiting for us at the watch post that had been set up next to the only entry way to the dome of thick trees and vines that was our destination. You see, the hut has this sort of security system. Wherever it sets up, it grows thick foliage around it to prevent the unwanted from approaching. This was normally supposed to happen in a forested area, where it wouldn’t look too out of place. But right now it was in the middle of the city’s market square.
So it looked really out of place. The two idiots on the makeshift watch-towers, however, were wearing the garb of the Winter Guard, so they fit.
Not so sure about the digeridoos they were holding, though. Or why they were holding them. “Oi!” one shouted to the other. “Don’t those folks coming our way look familiar?”
“Why I think you’re right, Steve!” Bill replied. “Shall we blow the digeridoos of alarm?”
“We might want to, before that wee murderous nipper over there pulls out her gun and shoots at us again. But why digeridoos, Bill?”
“I don’t know, Steve. I woulda just had us yell ‘Alarm!’ You would think that would save time, but they said to blow the digeridoos to wake the trolls, so digeridoos it is.”
“Oh for the love of…” I heard Terry say as she pulled out her gun. The two men began playing their digeridoos and the three trolls at the base of the towers began to stir. Terry’s shot struck the guard on the left – Steve – in the collarbone. He had pulled out his bow and was about to fire when her bullet struck. His arrow missed, but Bill managed to hit Terry in the shin. The two men then dropped prone, safe in the protection of the towers’ waist high walls.
“She shot me!” Steve shouted in indignation.
“Stay with me, buddy!” Bill shouted to his friend.
“I’ll be fine!” Steve shouted back, just before the fireball I’d launched into the air exploded directly above him. He had nowhere to go. There was no chance he survived it.
“STEVE! NO!” shouted Bill. “He was just two days from retirement!” He jumped up and began fleeing, somehow running over the dome of vines. “Don’t worry Steve! I’ll come back for you, I promise!” He loosed some kind of small bird, which Terry immediately shot.
Only the burning of the tower that held Steve’s corpse answered Bill’s promise.
Meanwhile, first Gregor, then Burin and finally Greta charged the trolls on the ground. I think Greta hesitated so she could watch me cast my spell, to be honest. I hope it’s the amazingness of my casting ability and not my carnage she was appreciating.
Greta’s and Gregor’s foes fell quickly, though Gregor’s was still twitching. “Go on, try to get up,” he taunted the regenerating troll. “See what happens.”
Meanwhile, Burin got bitten. The troll even latched on to the dwarf’s arm. “Get off me!” the poor dwarf shouted.
I was running low on spells and wanted to save magic in case I needed it inside the dome, so it wasn’t like I could help. I launched a small bolt of lightning using a cantrip. It didn’t do much, but it would help a little.
Terry considered Burin’s situation, knowing she could help him. Then she turned and shot Gregor’s downed foe. Three shots. Into a foe that wasn’t dangerous. While Burin was trying to extricate his arm from the mouth of a still moving troll.
I could see that Terry’s problems with Burin hadn’t diminished. We’d probably need to work on that sometime in the near future.
“Hey! I was still playing with that,” Gregor joked.
“Babe, can you help Burin?” I asked Greta.
“On it,” Greta said, hitting the troll with her acidic axe. The troll recoiled, then was struck by Gregor and fell.
“Thanks,” Burin told them.
Inside the dome was a strange, almost otherworldly sight. First of all, there was light, and a fair amount of it. In fact, it looked like twilight inside. The only difference is that the “sky” was a canopy of green and was light by thousands – maybe millions! – of bioluminescent worms, looking almost like a field of stars.
“The stars aren’t right,” I found myself mumbling absentmindedly.
“I found the bird!” Terry crowed excitedly. Curious, I walked over to where she was. At her feet was the broken remains of a silver raven, a magical item used to carry messages. Basically a magical carrier pigeon. Based on the bullet damage, that was likely the one that Bill had released earlier.
“Very nice,” I said. “It’s broken, but Cortana can repair it if you’re willing to pay for the repairs.”
“Any way to tell if it was carrying a message?”
“I think these can only be used to carry written messages, not spoken ones. So it doesn’t appear to be, though it did get scratched up as it fell through the canopy, so the message could have gotten snagged and torn off in the fall. And, of course, the arrival of the bird itself could be the message. That’s how I would have done it if I feared the message being intercepted.”
“That makes sense. Well, it’s mine now.”
On the other side of the clearing – for lack of a better word – was a swirling vortex of shadows. As soon as she noticed it, Terry turned and walked off down a side path. “Why do you always go off alone!” Gregor complained, following her.
Burin, meanwhile, moved to explore the vortex. Greta gave me a questioning look. “What do we do?” she asked.
“We try to take up a position such that we can keep an eye on both sets of people?”
Her brow furrowed. “Is this normal for you?”
“I don’t think you can use the word normal for anything we do.” I turned and called over to the dwarf. “Burin! What do you see?”
“Around the edges of the vortex, I think I see the hut. But we’re going to need to find a way to dispel the vortex to get to it.”
“Any thoughts on what the vortex is and how we destroy it?”
“It’s a portal of some kind into another plane that’s sucking reality into it. It has been created by a ritual of some kind, that much I’m sure of, but I can’t say what the ritual is. I also can’t be sure, but I think it’ll grow faster until it absorbs this entire area. As for stopping it, well, it appears to be powered by some external source or sources. If we shut those down, it should dissipate.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “We should get moving. Terry and Gregor appear to be going around a corner and out of sight.”
“Right,” he called back. “I’ll be right behind you.”
We caught up with the others just in time to spot Gregor – with Terry clinging to his back – entering a house that was suspended in a tree, roughly twenty feet in the air. “What’s going on up there?” I asked.
“There are people trapped inside,” Gregor called back. “You three wait below, we will lower them to you.”
Anyone with eyes could see that the house was not in a good position. If they made a single mistake, the entire thing could come tumbling down. Gregor and Terry were probably tough enough to survive such a fall barring severe bad luck, but I couldn’t say the same for whoever else was in there.
A minute or so later, Gregor lowered down the first occupant, a boy of about seven. Another minute later, he lowered a girl who looked a year or two older. “Let’s get you two out from under the house while my friend helps whoever is left,” I suggested. They took my hands and we walked about ten feet away.
It took almost five minutes before Gregor and Terry began lowering, the last occupant, a Varisian man in his thirties. The reason for the delay was quite evident from the splint tied to his leg and the improvised litter he was being lowered on. After he was down, Greta and Burin got him over to us and out from under the teetering house. The kids cried in relief as they hugged him.
Gregor climbed down, Terry on his back once more. The girl hurried over to us and examined the man’s leg. “I’ve splinted it,” she told me. “Do you think the wand will be able to mend the break?”
I shook my head. “I think it only works on soft tissue. I’m not sure it can mend bone. No reason we can’t try anyway, though.”
“Don’t worry about me,” the man said. “I’ll be fine.”
“It will help with your cuts and scrapes,” Terry insisted. “Let us help you.”
“Of course,” the man, who introduced himself as Karend Angetti, conceded. I tapped him with the wand and his wounds began mending immediately.
Terry rummaged in her bag. “Also, take this,” she said, handing him a small satchel. “It was all I could find of value in your home. It’s not much, but it does look to be valuable enough to help get you on your feet.”
The man looked into the satchel and pulled out a silver fork. “Thank you. It will definitely help. And for you, please take this.” He handed her a small amulet. “This belonged to my wife. It has magic to help protect you. You’ve saved her children, so I think she’d want you to have it.”
“Thank you, but surely you can use it more,” Terry said.
“No. Please, I insist.”
“We can’t…” her shoulders slumped at the pleading look in his eyes. “Okay. You win. Thank you.” The children helped the man walk and we made sure he got to the outside. Once they were out of sight, Terry looked at all of us. “What? Do you have something to say?” she accused me.
“Nothing at all,” I said, flashing her a beatific smile.
“Good. Let’s keep looking.”
Continuing on, we found a large platform of stone jutting from the ground like some kind of stage. Around it circled six massive boulders. The others seemed impressed, but I’d seen something like that before. Granted, what I’d seen had been prototype hover-cars and not rocks, but the idea was the same.
What was more interesting was the battered creature lying broken upon the floor. He was a fey, specifically a Dawn Piper, an immortal being of primordial creative force that comes from the First World, land of the Fey and counterpart to the prime material plane.
His burning hair smoldered and appeared on the verge of snuffing out and in his hand he clutched a broken flute. “You and your friends can try to stop us, but you will fail!” he said with a cough as we approached. “But we will claim this reality and take the Crone’s hovel with us!”
He died before we could question him. What friends did he mean? And who had done that to him? Could it be an ally? Was the White Rider here?
I didn’t have much time to ponder such questions. Only moments after the Dawn Piper died, the floating stones crashed to the ground. The shockwave nearly through me from my feet. “What was that?” Terry asked.
“This was part of the ritual powering the vortex that’s blocking the path to the hut,” Burin said. “Based on the power I saw in it, there are at least two but no more than three remaining.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“I am certain.” Good. I’d been too focused on the Dawn Piper to think to inspect the magic. Glad at least one of us had the presence of mind to check. So all I could see was magical grease on the side of the rocky ledge, as if it was meant to stop anything from climbing up there. Maybe that’s where the Dawn Piper had been standing when it encountered its killers?
“So we stop the other rituals and get to the hut?” Terry asked.
“I believe so, yes.” The dwarf nodded as he spoke.
“Let’s see if there’s anything else here to give us information and keep moving.”
Terry inspected the body to see if his wounds would tell us anything about what he fought. “He has several shallow lacerations to the back, as well as a massive wound to the chest,” she commented. “Two…no, maybe three attackers. Yes, at least that many. And we need to watch out for some kind of large animal. Something bit him.”
“Only matter of time before it has Burin in its mouth,” Gregor quipped.
Burin sighed. “Yeah, probably.” We all laughed.
Gregor found tracks leading off. “Terry is right. Four sets of footprints leading away. Strange, though. No animal tracks.”
“Some animals leave no tracks,” Greta commented. She was right. Winter wolves, for instance, could travel through snow without leaving a trace of their passing. There was no reason something else couldn’t do the same here.
Terry held up the broken form of another twigjack – the same kind of thing we’d fought at Maret’s place – and waved it at Gregor. “Hey, did you want to skin it?” she asked the fighter.
He held up the pathetic thing. “Is nothing but twigs and a few leaves. You want me to skin THIS?” He sounded indignant.
“It was just a thought.”
Not long after, we encountered another house, this one on the ground. As we approached, the door flew open and a winter wolf in human form stood before us. “Greta!” the woman said, her voice sounding relieved. “Thank the gods that you’ve come! I thought I was going to die!”
“Bragda?!” Greta asked. “What are you doing here?”
“My unit… we chased some fugitives into the forest. Then these things attacked us. I’m the only one alive. I need you to escort me from this place immediately.”
“I’m sorry, but we’re on our own mission.”
“You can’t just leave me here! You haven’t seen what’s here, Greta! The monsters here are dangerous. We have to get out of here! We have to go now!”
Instantly, Greta crossed the distance between them. Her face was inches from the other wolf’s. I was a little jealous, to be honest. And a bit turned on. Dammit, that stupid card might have been right. “You will stop sniveling like some runt whelp, Bragda.” She hadn’t raised her voice, but her tone had all the fire of a drill sergeant. “We have a mission we must complete and your life is of no importance to that vital goal.” She stepped back and turned away, then looked back over her shoulder at the desperate wolf. “But I will not completely ignore one of the pack, so I will allow you to join US in our goal, if you feel the need for company so much. And once we’re done, you can walk out with us together.”
Defeated, Bragda’s shoulders slumped. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”
Terry called Bragda over to ask her about some corpses she had found inside the shack. I wasn’t really paying attention, since Greta had walked over to me. “Enjoy that?” she asked before nibbling on my ear.
My brain took a second to reboot after that. “I promise that as soon as we get a chance, I’ll show you just how much I enjoyed it,” I whispered back.
It’s not surprising that I managed to completely miss the creatures up in the trees. At least, I missed them until they let out shrill screeches and I whipped my head around to find them. My first thought was that Terry was going to have a fit when she saw them.
They looked a lot like perytons, magical beasts with the body and antlers of a stag, the head and fangs of a wolf, and the wings and talons of a hawk. Except, only… instead of wolves, they had goat heads. The slavering fangs were still there, but they were definitely goats.
By the time they had appeared, the wolf-women were on the outer edge of the party and became the creatures’ targets. They struck each one with their horns. Luckily, both wolves were wearing armor. Well, were. Bragda immediately shifted into her wolf form and her gear disappeared magically.
Terry ran out of the shack, wild-eyed, and fired upon the first goat-thing she saw. Meanwhile, I had blasted the other with beams of flame. Both were smoking when they flew at the wolves again.
Greta and Bragda were both ready. Greta cleaved one foe in half with her axe and Bragda tore the other out of the air with her powerful fangs.
I tapped Greta with my healing wand then went over to heal Bragda. Terry approached the hulking wolf. “Anyone who kills goat monsters is okay in my book,” she told Bragda.
“Is that so, child?” the wolf asked after calming.
“Of course. Just, goats, man. There’s something wrong with them. They’re everywhere and they’re all trying to kill us.”
“Yes. There are many dangers in this place. And I’ve seen more of these creatures.”
Terry shuddered. “I was thinking. If you’re going to stay in that form, maybe we could work together to keep both of us safe?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Maybe, if I rode on your back, I could keep an eye out above us while you keep an eye out above us?”
Bragda considered it. “Yes, that idea shows promise. You will make an excellent Winter Guard. Climb on, child.”
Once Terry had climbed onto Bragda’s back, we moved onward, deeper into the forest, and came across another home. This one had a campfire out in front that was still burning. So naturally Burin walked up and knocked. “Hello!” he called.
“We have guests!” a woman’s voice called back from within.
“Are you friend or foe?” Burin asked. As if a foe would just come out and say it.
“That depends on you, dear,” the woman replied.
“Hey!” Terry called out. “Are you now, or have you ever been, a goat or goat-like creature?”
The door opened and a beautiful red-haired woman stood there. “What?” Her face was twisted in confusion.
“It’s a thing with her,” I answered.
“Ah,” she said, looking Burin directly in the eyes. There was something about her, but I couldn’t quite put my foot on it.
“What are you trying to do?” the dwarf asked.
“Would you like some wine?” she replied, offering him a bottle.
“Sure. Then you’ll tell me what you’re doing?”
“Yes, come inside.”
Burin drained the bottle and followed her inside. None of us made any move to follow. I was too busy trying to figure out what it was about the woman that was setting the hair on the back of my neck standing up.
About a minute later, I heard Burin talking. “What is your end goal here? I know you want to control me. You tried and failed. But for some reason I don’t seem worried about it. Is that because of the wine? Is it ensorcelled?”
That was the catalyst I’d needed. It finally hit. “Crap. That woman was a baccae.”
“A what?” Gregor asked.
“A fey creature. They can use their gaze to charm humanoids and whatnot. As an Aasimar, I should be immune, and the wolves should be safe, at least in wolf form. But you and Terry will need to wait outside.”
“You can’t take Bragda,” Terry objected. “She’s so soft…”
“I will remain with them, in constant vigilance should more of those creatures approach,” Bragda said.
“It’s just you and me rescuing the dwarf,” I told Greta. “I’ll move in first with a fireball. Then you move in and keep them off of me.”
“I’ll watch your backside,” Greta agreed, her grin showing her teeth as she shifted into her wolf form. She was a large, powerful beast, perhaps a bit bigger than Bragda. And her fur was even whiter, as if she had done a better job at taking care of herself.
The fight inside wasn’t that impressive. I moved in and hit the baccae – there were three in total – before they could even react, carefully shaping my fireball to avoid hitting Burin or the group of drunk merchants I found within. The men didn’t react at all.
Greta came in, squeezing through the door, and got between me and the enemy. The baccae, meanwhile, became bestial in form and tried to attack. Burin tried to stop them, talking as if he was trying to break up a fight between friends. Greta unleashed a blast of icy breath, hitting the foes and Burin alike. Two of them went down.
“You have to stop!” Burin shouted, charging Greta and bull-rushing her into the doorway. The final enraged baccae charged and was cut down by sharp fangs. “We didn’t have to fight,” Burin complained. “I just wanted to know what they were trying to do.”
“They were trying to stop us from saving everyone,” I replied. “We couldn’t leave you behind, so we had to get them before they could ensorcell someone else.”
“But I never found out their goal,” the dwarf complained.
“Sorry, buddy, but we do have work to do. No telling how long before that ritual goes off.”
“I guess that’s true. Let’s continue on then.”
“And then there was a goat, and he was just eating a table,” Terry was saying as we stepped out. “He looked harmless, but I knew it was a trick, so we killed him right away. Oh! There you are. Everything okay inside?”
“Yeah, the fey are dead. There are a few drunk guys inside, but they’re harmless.”
“No goats, right?”
I laughed. “No goats.”
“Good.” She absentmindedly scratched behind Bragda’s ear. I think I saw the great wolf’s leg twitch.
At the end of the path we had been following, we found a massive dead tree. Snow swirled all about it, blown by a wind that seemed localized to that particular area. In the branches of the great tree stood another of those fey creatures, the dawn pipers.
The fey regarded us for a moment. “Already two have fallen, but I will be the one to finish you if you do not turn back from this foolish errand. Go now. This forest and the Dancing Hut are ours, and I will not yield.”
As she spoke, Burin walked forward, axe in hand. Immediately, I began to see his plan. If we destroyed the altar that the dawn piper was using to power the vortex, then we didn’t have to kill her. We’d dispel the effect and be able to leave with our prize with no bloodshed. It was an entirely Burin thing to do.
“You refuse to yield? This, we shall see,” Gregor said before teleporting up into the tree and swung at her. His fist struck, but the shifting of his weight on the branches caused his blow to merely glance her as the fey flew into the air.
From the sky, the dawn piper could easily see Burin, axe in hand. She hit him with a powerful supernatural cacophony from her pipes, trying to stop him from harming the tree. Meanwhile, she was in the perfect position, clear of any obscuring branches, for Terry and Bragda to strike her with gunshots and icy breath, respectively.
The damage was too much and the piper fell from the sky. From within the tree, we heard something scream out in Sylvan, then a twigjack suddenly burst forth from the tree, showering Burin and Greta – who had moved to help the dwarf chop it down – in a hail of splinters.
Gregor leapt from his perch and came down on the twigjack – hard – driving it into the ground with his fist as he made a perfect three-point landing. “Okay, even I have to admit that was pretty cool. You win this one,” Terry said.
From within the forest dome, we heard a loud sound. It was almost like the sound of something exploding underwater. “She said that the other two were already dead. The vortex may have just collapsed,” I pointed out. “We should hurry. I don’t think we’re the only ones working here.” We could hit Burin and Greta with some healing as we moved.
Gregor and Burin took point. As we approached the clearing where we came in, just as they rounded a corner, I heard Gregor speak. “You! What are YOU doing here?!”
“I- I don’t feel so good about this,” I heard Burin say. His voice sounded like he had a sudden stomachache.
Another voice answered Gregor. “I heard that you survived Sergei’s death,” a man said. “Good. I hope that you put up a better fight than Dimitri.” Oh crap. That had to be that other disciple, the one who got kicked out. Vasily, I think his name was.
“Is that the guy who killed Sergei?” I heard Terry ask. I was getting a little frustrated at not being able to see anything all the way at the back of the party with Greta.
“No. That is Vasily, the rat.” Well, my guess had been correct.
“The one who wasn’t good enough and left?”
“Exactly.”
Vasily growled in anger. “Do not touch this one. Gregor will fall by my hands alone!”
“And who are you?” Terry asked someone else.
“I am the true vessel of Amgorath, and I will pull his essence from your twitching corpse!” I don’t think she was talking to Terry. In fact, I’m almost certain she meant Burin, since I think I remember seeing that name in the picture book before the demon tried to escape.
They charged and I heard sounds of fighting. It took me less than ten seconds to push past the brush and catch up, but in that time, things looked dire. Burin was locked in combat with a dwarven tiefling covered in white dragon scales – explain that one – whose face was contorted in a bestial rage. She had blood and spittle dripping from her fanged maw and Burin had a matching wound on his forearm. She had eschewed all weapons in favor of fang, claw and even attacks with her demonic horns.
Meanwhile, Gregor had taken a massive slash from Vasily’s nine-ringed sword. He looked staggered, and the wound was spurting blood. A few seconds and he would collapse if no one helped him. So I acted immediately and rushed over to him, pulling out a metal vial of healing potion from my belt pouch as I did so. I poured the contents into his mouth, and his wounds began to close.
Gregor struck Vasily, who crumpled under the blows. “Heh,” the monk laughed as he fell. “You needed someone. You could not beat me alone.”
Someone suddenly appeared from the shadows behind Gregor, swinging a wicked looking pair of kukris. It took me a second to recognize him as Vincent, the man from the tavern back in Waldsby. Gregor spun and knocked him unconscious in a single punch, managing to dodge both strikes. “He will wake up in a few moments,” Gregor warned me. “Do not let him get up.”
Another figure appeared from nowhere, hitting Terry and Bragda with a small explosive. I recognized her as the elven woman who had been with Vincent. Somehow the two had escaped from the villagers we had carrying them to the portal. “Kill whoever else you want, Segrit, but leave the one in the green robe alive. I must have him.” Her voice dripped with madness and lust.
Terry and I both hit her. She collapsed, her corpse still smoking from the fire of our attacks. Meanwhile, Burin and the tiefling – Segrit, I assumed – were locked in deadly combat. Gregor rushed over to help, but was dropped instantly by one of her claws. He was still alive, but he was out of the fight.
“I’ve got this!” Terry shouted, trying to pull out her healing gun. But Segrit was faster. She unleashed a flurry of attacks on Burin. The dwarf took both claw swipes and crumpled. But before she could deliver the final blow, the dwarf shimmered, and he and Terry swapped places.
Instead of Burin’s throat, the tiefling’s fangs tore into Terry’s stomach, crunching right through her chain shirt. Still, the metal prevented the attack from being lethal and Terry only fainted from the injury.
Bragda, seeing the exit from the forest not too far away, made her move. Still, the tiefling was between her and escape, so she tried to trip her. But it was for naught and Bragda instantly ripped her throat out. I unleashed the last of my powerful spells, hitting Segrit with a fireball as Greta rushed in to help.
Inky blackness poured out of Burin and flowed into the tiefling, who was laughing maniacally.
She turned, preparing to do to Greta what she had done to several others. Then I had a sudden flash of insight. I knew how to stop the demon’s escape. I could counter-spell the effect. I couldn’t do much else, so I did it, hoping it would help.
There was a dull explosion and we were all struck with the backlash as the demon’s link severed, preventing further transfer of his essence. I was stunned, unable to move. “Flee, you fool!” a sinister booming voice commanded.
“I can finish them!” Segrit roared.
“You will die if you remain! Others approach! Go!” The tiefling hissed, but did as she was commanded and fled.
I heard footsteps, then a voice. “Oi! What’s this?!” Oh god, not him. Not now. As my eyes began to focus, I saw that guard, Bill. He was picking Vasily up. “Steve, I’m taking the queen’s champion to get help. You coming?”
“I found something interesting!” a ghostly voice said. I turned my head just in time to see the ghostly form of Steve enter the elf-woman’s corpse. It stood up. “Oi! I’ll help you with that!” the animated corpse said, rushing over to help Bill.
“What about them?”
“Leave ‘em. We have to get the champion help. We’ll raise an alarm when we find someone.”
The last thing I heard from them was, “Oi, Steve, izzat you?
“It is indeed, Bill.”
“Steve… You have boobs.”
“That I do, Bill, that I do.”
I finally managed to shake off whatever it was that was holding me back. Greta appeared to be doing the same. I did a quick scan of the battlefield, then motioned with my head towards Vincent. “He’s starting to wake up.”
Greta hefted her axe. “No he’s not,” she said, as she marched over to him.
Meanwhile, I hurried over to Terry and pulled the nanite gun from her belt then injected her. “I should have died at the dragon,” she groaned.
“Complain later,” I told her, poking her with my healing wand and giving her back the gun. “Gregor needs your help now. There’s no telling when more enemies might arrive.”
“Right,” she said. She stared at Bragda’s corpse for a moment. “It’s too bad. She was so very fluffy.”
Vincent woke up just long enough to scream as Greta’s axe plunged into his face. I didn’t have time to look, nor any real inclination. I trusted she would get it done and I had my own work to do.
I healed all of Burin’s wounds, but he would not awaken. He was in some kind of coma. “What is wrong?” Gregor asked.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “He’s alive, but I can’t get him to wake up. Can you carry him? It’s not safe here and we need to make it to the hut before someone else comes.”
Gregor hefted Burin over his shoulder with a grunt. “Dwarf is heavier than he looks.” I don’t know about that. He looked pretty heavy to me, though I think the correct term is stout.
After quickly looting Vincent – I took his belt, though it needed some reconfiguring to be more stylish – we headed past the site of the vortex into a clearing that contained our goal: Baba Yaga’s hut.
The hut itself was surrounded by a fence of white bones that looked akin to one of those white-picket fences you see in old advertisements. Impaled on the fence was a pair of corpses, one adorned in red, the other in white. It seemed that no one would be helping us after all.
Inside the fence, the two story tall hut stood on a pair of enormous chicken legs that restlessly scratched at the ground. On one of the legs was a manacle of iron staked into the ground. There was a palpable magic field emanating for it that I could feel even without using divination magic to detect it.
Blocking the path into the clearing was an ice golem, and surrounding the clearing was a sheer wall of ice. The ice was polished to a mirror finish. From within the mirrored ice, we could see four images of a woman in a beautiful blue and violet robe adorned with white feathers and ice. Her white hair, pale skin and blue painted lips confirmed that she was one of the white witches. In fact, I recognized her from the smutty art book. We were looking at Nazhena Vasilliovna, mistress of the Pale Tower.
The four images stepped from the ice and spoke in unison. “I suppose I should thank you for ridding me of this fey incursion,” she said coldly, “but we both know what you’ve cost me already.”
“I’m too old for this illusion shit,” Terry complained. “You think she’s bitter because we killed the goat guy?”
“Is very likely,” Gregor answered.
Nazhena didn’t bother addressing their taunt, ordering her golem to attack. Greta intercepted its charge while Terry, Gregor and I focused on the images. I managed to dispel one using my very last spell, Gregor dropped Burin and took out another, then Terry hit the remaining two.
The real Nazhena crumpled to the floor, having taken a bullet right between the eyes. “MACHINE OF DEATH!” Terry crowed.
Greta took out the golem and it exploded in a shower of ice shards. “You okay?” I asked her.
“I’ll be fine. Just a few cuts.”
“Let me tend to those anyway,” I said, pulling out the healing wand. We’d almost used up another one. Gregor picked up Burin while Terry stripped Nazhena of pretty much everything – she had no what of knowing what was magical. Then they both headed inside. “I guess it’s up to us to break the shackle?” I asked Greta.
“It would appear so. Come, let us get it done.”
As soon as Greta entered the gate, the hut attacked her. It clawed at her, then lifted her into the air, intent on eating her. I was terrified that it would kill her. Still, I managed to focus that panic into constructive action. “SET HER DOWN!” I commanded the hut. The hut slowly moved her towards its mouth. “STOP THAT.” It looked at me and we stared at each other. This went on for almost a minute before the hut blinked and backed down, setting Greta softly on the ground.
I rushed to her side. “I do not think the house likes me,” she laughed, coughing up a little blood. I healed her as quickly as I could, even making her drink my last quick heal potion. “I am okay,” she said. “There is no need to fuss over me.”
“Hush. Let me fuss a little,” I said.
Greta laughed. “As you wish, dear.” After I was satisfied that she was okay, she motioned to her axe. “I don’t think I’ll be able to use it to break the chain,” she said. “It seems that the house broke it.”
Sure enough, the axe had a major crack. “That’s okay. Let’s get inside and make Gregor and Terry come deal with it.”
Unfortunately, there was another problem. Greta couldn’t enter the house. There was some kind of ward on the door. I could enter easily, but she couldn’t. And unfortunately, I didn’t have any magic left to deal with the problem. I did have some djezet, but I didn’t think blowing up the house was a good idea.
“It’s fine,” Greta said. “It’s just like the cards said. We’ll part ways for now, but I’ll surely see you once more.”
I hugged her. “I’ll come back to find you as soon as I can,” I told her.
“I know. Now hurry inside.”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll watch from here to make sure you make it to the exit. I can see most of the way from here. If anything comes, the hut should protect me.” I remembered something. “Oh, before you go, I got this for you.” I gave her the spices from the clock tower.
“A wonderful gift. Thank you.” She kissed me, passionately. “Now, I should hurry before any more soldiers arrive. Be careful, my love.” She shifted into wolf form and began bounding off.
Had she just said what I thought she had? My breath caught in my throat. “I love you, too,” I whispered, suddenly realizing that somehow, despite knowing her for only a couple days, I did.
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