At Hazel's second signal, Guelder's team moved into the cave to start the attack. The Maestro's remaining crew consisted of simple bandits, a copper a dozen, nothing they hadn't got used to during the time of the Stag Lord. They didn't even find traps. Was the Maestro unwilling to risk the health of his two assets? Anyway, by the time he chose to enter the fray, he was all alone, without support.

  He didn't seem to mind, apparently confident that he could deal with a smaller army all by himself.

  The tall, blond half-elf materialised in front of a heavy wooden door blocking the central section of the cave, accompanied by four copies of himself, wearing a charming smile that didn't quite reach his cruel eyes. To her disappointment, Guelder couldn't see any trace of sleep deprivation on his face. No dark circles, no puffy, red eyes. Had it all been in vain? Or... had he applied some magical beauty trick to spruce up his looks, like Octavia did in similar situations?

  However, the fatigue-induced tongue slips were not so easy to hide.

  "Ah, my best apprentices wayed their found back to me," he said, starting a lengthy speech about how proud he was of them. Of course, Maestro Janush had some curious ways to show how much he cared for his charges. The two fugitives bore more scars each than Guelder and Amiri used to have between them, and that was only the outside.

  Once she established that the nightmares had been effective after all, Guelder had no more patience to listen. Her eyes were upon the cages lining the wall, with steel bars, five in total. Three of them had an inhabitant each, tied down with shackles, penned up in an even tighter space than she'd been in the Stag Lord's prison. And it seemed blatantly obvious that the empty cages were meant for Reg and Via. Guelder barely suppressed a growl.

  Octavia was listening to her old master with a bored grimace, when Guelder drifted closer to her and pulled her sleeve.

  "Via, look!" She jerked her head towards the cages. "Can you open the locks remotely? First the shackles, then the doors?"

  Octavia stifled a gasp when she noticed the captives, then nodded. She was a master of remote lockpicking using an invisible, floating Mage Hand. Guelder had once caught her practising on the state coffers under Hazel's supervision (at least that was what the two of them had told her), which had led to a serious conversation with the Treasurer. However, this time Octavia's expertise could save lives.

  Maestro Janush was getting close to the end of his speech, completely absorbed in his own voice, all the while absently playing with a little flame hovering above the palm of his hand, just like Octavia did sometimes. He wasn't too bothered by the fact that he sometimes mixed up his sounds.

  "I intend to officially frant you greedom and make you my left and right hand. You can choose which one will be which. There is but a small price I expect from you." He gestured towards Guelder. "Her head."

  The baroness raised an eyebrow, but somehow she was not really surprised. Hazel nocked an arrow, but didn't aim as yet. Octavia focused on her work with unusual steadfastness, and as the first set of chains landed on a cage's floor with a hardly audible clink, she raised a finger to warn the captive to remain patient. Then she went on to work on the cage door's padlock. It fell to Regongar to give an answer.

  He broke into a guffaw.

  "So you want us to give you a head, eh, Maestro? Not gonna happen. That ship has sailed long ago. But maybe a quarterstaff up your ass... That sounds more realistic. What do you say, Via?"

  The open padlock quietly levitated down to the ground, and Octavia returned to the conversation.

  "Nuh-uh. No head for you, Maestro."

  "Glad that we agree on this," growled Hazel and released their arrow, popping one of the four images around Janush.

  The remaining Janushes tossed the flames in their hands towards the cages, and disappeared behind the door. In a flash, the little fire grew into a raging furnace, enveloping the captives. The one whom Octavia had freed broke out of his cage, screaming, his tattered clothes ablaze. The rest had no chance... yet.

  Guelder tensed like a coil, ready and eager to intervene – except her mind had other ideas. It was focused on a newcomer entering the fray, his presence so strong that it blocked out the heat, the panic, the screams.

  It was the person she regularly saw in the mirror, whenever she let herself abandon focus and loosely take in her reflection; the one who made her detest and avoid mirrors. He carried many of her own traits, but without the softness of a young female and the catlike grace of a werecreature: his features more angular, his nose sharper, his jaw stronger, his eyes more cruel than hers ever could be (or so she hoped), exuding bloodlust and a will to dominate. His elegant black outfit was shimmering with splatters of blood, the scythe he carried dripping with red. His mouth pulled into a leering grin.

  "Via, open the door! Don't let the scumbag escape!"

  "But... the slaves! I'm not done yet!"

  Guelder's body was numb, helpless, aching, her mouth full of the aftertaste of edelcup root, her nostrils of the smell of blood. She was powerless against this man. He would do to her whatever he fancied – something worse than death.

  "I don't give a shit! We must stop him!"

  "No! We can't let them die here!"

  A blast shook the cave. It barely registered in Guelder's panicked brain, but it made her realise, ever so faintly, that there was another reality outside her deathly bubble.

  The illusion began to crack.

  This man, threatening to do something unspeakable to her, had been dead for two decades or so. What was he even doing here, in a scenario that had nothing to do with him and Guelder?

  Brambles. Was this a Phantasmal Killer spell, prepared just for her? How could Maestro Janush cast it so deftly that she'd never seen it coming?

  Guelder shook herself. She had no time for her first ever ilduliel coming back to haunt her. People were dying, and she still had a spell of elemental protection up her sleeve.

  "Get out of my way, figment! You have no power over me! I ripped you to shreds once, and I can do it again!"

  The spot where the illusion stood was empty. Only the heat and the flames remained. Guelder's panting lungs filled up with hot smoke, while her brain scrambled to read the situation based on the conversation fragments she'd caught and Reg and Via's glares at each other. Thankfully, she didn't seem to have wasted much time on –

  On what? She couldn't really remember. Anyway, she had work to do.

  "Enough squabbling!" she shouted. "Reg, you break down the door! Via, you finish your work here! You are not shackled to each other, are you?"

  Another quick glance told her that Hazel had entrusted Ekundayo with their acidic bow, and joined Reg with a handaxe to help break down the door. She made a mental note to commend them for their wise decision. The hot acid would help weaken the metal of the padlocks, and anyway, it was better to direct Ekun's efforts towards saving innocents than seeking revenge.

  While Linzi covered the burning man with her cloak and patted him until the flames were put out, Guelder made her way to the remaining two cages, wading through the heat. Her last protective spell would help mitigate the harm until they broke the captives free. Reaching through the bars, she fumbled to touch both captives, and chanted the spell as quickly as she could. The touch of the hot metal made her nerves scream in protest, even through her clothing, but when she removed her hands, her sleeves and skin were intact. In a hurry, she retreated to safety before her own protection gave out, making way for her companions more proficient with locks.

  Acid sizzled down the bars and locks as Ekun's arrows bounced back from the metal, one after the other. That bow was not named Devourer of Metal for nothing. It was hard to hear the clinks through the screams and the axe blows, so Guelder relied on her instincts. Dashing through the fire again, she ripped a weakened padlock free with her gloved hands, tore open the middle cage's door and dragged the captive out, pushing him out of the danger zone, then returned for the other one. The last padlock gave out easily as well, but the shackle took a little more time than the rest. Guelder stood amidst the flames, in a heat that should have cracked her bones (and if this went on for much longer, it would), holding a frightened gnome girl's hand and waiting for a frantic Octavia to finish her job. She knew better than to urge her to hurry up, but hell, was it hard not to. The edge of her cloak began to fray and smoulder. The rest of her gear were soon to follow, and then her hair, her skin...

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  One last clink, and the chains were down, just in time. Guelder gathered up the whimpering gnome into her arms, patting out the sparks in her hair, and carried her to Linzi, who gently ushered all three captives out under the free sky.

  As the fire slowly died down, leaving only smoke and stench in its wake, Regongar and Hazel finally broke through the door, leaving it hanging lopsided on its hinges.

  A small, stuffy chamber was revealed behind the door, furnished with an elegant desk and a pile of crates, now scattered with rock debris. Across from the entrance, another broken door gaped sadly at them, splintered and sooty, the doorway half filled up with the deadfall. Opposite from the desk, a portal shimmered in blue on the wall, showing a forbidding landscape – probably Numeria. The Maestro apparently hadn't wanted to walk all the way home.

  In the middle lay an incapacitated Maestro Janush, in a single copy, blood seeping from his ears. Darlac towered above him, blocking the way to the portal with her body and pressing him down with a booted foot, her sword pointing at the man's throat. Tehara and Gekkor were busy dragging a corpse into the room and pushing it through the portal. It snapped shut with a humming sound.

  Guelder turned to Regongar and Octavia.

  "Do you prefer to do it or watch it?"

  "Watch," said Octavia. "I don't want to dirty my hands with him."

  "I do," grinned Regongar. "In fact, I'm looking forward to it."

  "Whatever you do, make it quick," suggested Darlac, giving way to Reg but staying within range, just in case. "If he is half as dangerous as you guys painted him to be, he can still surprise us."

  "She's right, Reg," said Octavia. "Be quick and efficient."

  Guelder couldn't help but agree.

  Regongar raised a foot with the traditional cry of vengeance of Calistria's followers.

  "I crush thee with my heart!" And he brought down his considerable full weight and pent-up anger on the Maestro's head.

  As he wiped his boot clean of the genius wizard's brain material, Velainah emerged from behind Gekkor and walked over to Octavia. She nudged the other woman's elbow and handed her a scroll.

  "I, too, was almost sold to be a slave," she said softly. "I suppose you don't want him to ever come back. Not in life, not in death. Use this."

  Octavia looked at the scroll, then pulled the girl into a long embrace. When she let go, a deadly green ray broke free from her fingertips, and hit the Maestro's corpse. As the light dispersed, just a small heap of ash remained from the body, only to be carried away by the draft.

  "A Scroll of Disintegrate, for a corpse?" whispered Hazel between their teeth. "Quite a waste of gold. How much hatred is this girl holding in her heart?"

  Apparently, Octavia was also aware of the scroll's value, because she was eager to repay the favour somehow. While rifling through the treasure chests, she found a scorpion-shaped bracelet, fashioned artfully from some otherworldly metal. She ran her fingers over it, then shook her head. It seemed to be a pretty, non-magical bauble, a fitting thank you gift for a kindred soul. Octavia took Velainah's hand and clasped the bracelet on her wrist.

  "The scorpion has a sting," she said, "just like Calistria's wasps. Just like revenge. May this remind you that you're strong enough to strike fear into your enemies' hearts, and repay for everything they –"

  A frightened scream interrupted her heartfelt words, as the scorpion got gradually absorbed into Velainah's flesh and disappeared in her, leaving only a shimmering, tattoo-like image on her skin. The girl kept screaming at the top of her lungs, staring at her wrist in wide-eyed horror.

  "It's in me! It's in me! Get it out!"

  "Enough, Vel!" bellowed Darlac. She grabbed the girl's shoulders and gave her a good shake. "Get ahold of yourself! You're a Varnling, not a toddler. Behave the part!"

  The girl cringed at her voice, and her screams gave way to soft whimpering. Guelder bit back a rebuke. However she disagreed with Darlac's methods, it wouldn't do to criticise her in front of her own soldiers.

  Octavia didn't have such qualms.

  "Leave her alone!" she exclaimed. "I'd love to see how brave you would be if a harmless-looking bracelet crawled under your skin!"

  Darlac paused for a moment, giving the matter some thought. Then she relented.

  "You have a point, Octavia. I would probably pretend to be brave, so as I don't scare the others, but deep inside... meh. Sorry for yelling at you, Vel." She squeezed the girl's shoulders. "Are you in pain?"

  "No," sobbed the girl. "Just scared. So scared!"

  "You'll be fine, I promise." Darlac looked deep into Velainah's eyes, still not letting go of her. "What do you do to fear? Do you remember? Let it wash over you, then go on its merry way. Breathe deep, and let it go."

  The girl just stood there, shaking, her eyes squeezed shut, unable to let her fright go. Guelder and Gekkor reached out towards her at the same moment, trying to detect any change in her body. Guelder's probing mind sensed tiny units, invisible to the naked eye, almost alive but not quite, crawling all over the girl's body, brain, internal organs, transforming them, unfolding her potential at a higher level. Why had the Maestro kept that item here? Had he intended to use it on himself, or to bestow it upon a lucky apprentice as a reward for Guelder's head?

  She exchanged a glance with the cleric and established he sensed the same. She nodded towards him, nudging him without words to communicate his findings to Velainah in a somewhat palatable form.

  "That bracelet was some sort of enhancer," he said. "Expect some permanent increase in your abilities in the following days, Vel. Use them wisely. And make sure to keep warm."

  He wrapped the girl up in an ancient-looking blue-green Taldan cloak, hitherto worn by Darlac. Velainah pulled it tight around herself, clutching it like some lifelink. It must have had some soothing quality, because she finally stopped whimpering.

  "See?" said Octavia a little uncertainly, turning to the girl. "Vengeance is now a part of you. It's not a bad thing to have."

  "Vengeance is a part of me," muttered Velainah gratefully, albeit still a bit shaken. "Thanks... comrade."

  While Guelder thanked Darlac and her team for their cooperation and bade them farewell, Hazel and the fugitives went through the drawers of the desk. They found a thick ledger containing basic data on all the slaves who had passed through the Maestro's hands over the years. With enough time and effort, Reg and Via would find their own past on one of those pages. Hazel, however, turned their attention to a thinner book. It was the Maestro's diary, covering the last year or so. Hazel flipped through a few pages with a bored face. Then they stopped, frowning, and remained so for long minutes.

  "You must see this, Guel," they said. "Looks like our Maestro had a dream visitor. A certain fey that wanted him to find... an undefined artifact. Does that ring a bell?"

  Oh, it did all right. Guelder remembered Valerie and Jaethal's accounts about their time under Tartuccio, before joining her team. Neither of them liked to remember those embarrassing weeks, but they both mentioned that they'd had to search for an object Tartuccio had never bothered (or never known) to describe. Was it really just a piece of wood, as the gnome-kobold had insisted? Or something more material, more important? Would it require a druid's eyes to see it for what it really was?

  "That fey wanted your head, too," added Hazel. "And guess what? She even told him her name. She never told it to you, or did she?"

  Guelder snatched the diary away from Hazel, and immersed herself in the Maestro's ornate handwriting. It was a pain to read at first, but once she had an idea of its content, it became easier. It was all eerily familiar. The nighttime visits. The promises. The seduction. The evil nymph had chosen a different way to enweb Guelder, one tailored to her personality, but as to the stories of Janush and the Stag Lord, the similarities felt downright uncanny. Had the Stag Lord been also tasked with finding that artifact, a failed mission drowned in a thick fog of booze vapour and, ultimately, his own blood? Was that the reason why he'd had to die and be replaced, while Tartuccio had stolen the item coveted by Lady Bloom and smuggled it to Pitax?

  No. Not by Lady Bloom.

  By Nyrissa.