On the third morning after the hillside heist, a golden circle of energy spun to life once again in the same location. The mote gained speed, casting off arcane sparks in all directions before a ten-foot magical bubble swelled to life. A loud crack echoed from the mountainside when the distortion snapped back into a shimmering ten-foot circle, rippling inches above the flattened Siremirian grasses.

  In a squelching pop, a form broke the surface of the plane gate, eagerly straining against a chain leash glittering with magical essence. The creature walked on all fours, a muscular hump swelling just behind its front shoulders. Oddly slender forearms anchored high on the torso made its gait appear bowlegged from the front. Five-fingered front paws closely resembling fur-covered, clawed hands pulled it forward against the soft earth, dragging unseen handlers through the portal.

  Covered in matted charcoal hair, highlighted by a thick, jet-black mohawk patch running down its spine, the beast’s canine hindquarters were lean, built for speed. Easily equal in length to a full-sized human, its hairless, goblinoid facial features were marked by leathery, pale skin with a tinge of green, stretched across a short, fang-bristled snout below eyes pulsing menacingly with the red glow of an otherworldly, fiendish origin.

  The creature strained against its leash, hungry for the promised chase, eventually dragging two humanoids, struggling against its power from the other end of the chain leash, through the shimmering portal and onto the grasslands.

  “He’s pretty motivated all of a sudden,” the younger man at the front muttered to his taller partner, acting as the anchor in this tug of war.

  “Had more than enough of captivity, I’d imagine, eager to earn his freedom. You’d be too if the Mistress had you locked up for more than two decades!”

  The younger man cocked his head. “Why send him at all? Why not just crush them herself?”

  His partner snorted through a half-grin, his head subtly moving from side to side as he met his junior’s gaze. “I asked the same question, and I'll tell you what she told me—'The dragon doesn't turn around when a kobold barks'.” He shrugged, a quizzical look on his face, hands spread.

  His brow furrowing, the younger man nodded reluctantly. “And all we have to do is cut him loose, right? You sure he won’t turn on us?”

  The anchor chuckled. “Nah, he knows exactly why he’s here.”

  With their next step forward, the chain clanked to the ground. Standing stark still, the beast posed, muscles knotted, snout held high, sucking in large snorts of air.

  The taller man twitched an up nod toward the creature. “Go and unsnap the collar. I’ll hold the chain.”

  The younger man looked back at his partner, hesitating only briefly before dropping the leash. Rubbing his chafed hands together with a wince, he cautiously approached the creature from behind.

  When he came within reach, its head snapped around, lips curling and quivering in warning as a low growl rumbled from its chest. The man recoiled and held up his palms before slowly extending one hand to the creature’s glittering magical collar, unsnapping the metal clasp before retreating. The beast immediately turned to the hillside and began closing the distance, sweeping back and forth across the plains, its nose buried in the grass.

  The younger man’s shoulders relaxed, expelling a long exhale as he returned to his partner, already gathering up the chain leash as he watched the creature hunt. “Not gonna lie, that thing makes the hair on my neck stand on end. Can we go now?”

  His partner gave him a long look with raised eyebrows. “That thing is a Barghest, and it should raise your hackles. Part fiend, part goblin, it’s a ruthless hunter that can also toss some serious magic around. It lives only to consume souls. Lucky for us, his freedom bargain with the Mistress is stronger than his desire to eviscerate us right where we stand.” He turned his gaze back to the beast, already halfway up the hillside. “Come on, we can’t go until we know it’s locked onto the scent.” He hefted the chain over his shoulder and began following the creature up the slope.

  The younger man hurried along in his wake, their feet rustling the grass, but not enough to drown out the Barghest’s snuffling up ahead. “How does it even know what scent it’s supposed to pick up? This place reeks of death itself.” He retched, taking in the remains of the battle. Corpses of gnolls and demons blanketed the landscape, bloating in the morning sunshine as they began their unstoppable rotting return to nature.

  The older man shrugged, generating a whisper of rattling metal from the chain leash. “I guess he knows what it isn’t—gnolls or demons. That should be enough.”

  The barghest methodically worked his way through the carnage, its powerful snout occasionally rolling a corpse aside to get to the olfactory evidence below until it came to the spot where the Sklir had guarded the box. The creature’s tail rose and stiffened, its nose buried in the dirt.

  “I think he’s got something!” the older man hissed excitedly in a hushed tone.

  “Good! The sooner we can get away from that thing, the better, as far as I’m concerned.

  The Barghest rapidly tracked the scent back to a divot behind a large stone, jaws snapping in anticipation. In the forest depression, the beast threw its head skyward, unleashing a guttural bellow of triumph, spittle flying from open jaws. Returning its nose to the ground, the creature frantically inhaled any hint of surrounding essence left behind by its prey.

  “He’s on them now! That’s all we need,” the taller man declared before turning around and trudging back toward the shimmering gate, shaking his head. “I don’t know who pissed her off enough to warrant putting him on the board after all these years, but I’d hate to be them when he catches up!”

  When the alarm bells rang out in warning, Segwyn and Glynfir were in the eastern quarter, their fruitless search for Ferrier grinding to a crawl. Even with Tsuta’s physical description, no one admitted to having seen or known the man. In two local watering holes, the hostility became palpable at the mention of his profession. The eastern quarter was not fond of solicitors, it would seem. The highlight of their afternoon had been Segwyn’s purchase of two sets of modest brown robes for the monks. The woman at the clothing stand asked two coppers each, expecting him to haggle. When the ranger paid without question, citing the value of their increased anonymity, she visibly deflated.

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  “That can’t be good.” Segwyn quipped as both men froze, cocking their heads toward the omnipresent garrison wall.

  “Did he just say there’s a bear loose in the southern quarter?” Glynfir questioned his friend.

  “That’s what I heard,” Segwyn confirmed with a nod. “You’re the gambler, what are the odds that isn’t Lunish?”

  The wizard shook his head emphatically. “Pretty long.” He pulled a short piece of copper wire from his pocket. Closing his eyes, he started muttering under his breath, his free hand weaving patterns in the air.

  Lulu, did you spring the alarm? Is everything okay? Where are you now? We are nearby, let me know!

  The reply pinged back almost immediately:

  Yes, our recon went sideways. Tsuta has been captured, I’m headed to the Smashed Skull to lay low. Meet me there.

  Shoving the wire back into his pocket, he relayed the details to Segwyn. “Should we let the others know?”

  The ranger thought for a moment. “No, we’ll go. Let them continue with the search. It doesn’t sound like she’s in any immediate danger, and we’re not having much luck anyway.”

  Glynfir nodded, and the two turned back toward the southern quarter.

  “What’s the deal with you two anyway?” Segwyn asked as they threaded through the narrow streets, stepping over rotting produce, their nostrils nearly immune to the constant scent of stale urine.

  Glynfir shot him a sidelong glance. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” the ranger considered his words. “You clearly care a lot about her, but I don’t get the impression that your relationship is romantic in any way.”

  The wizard chuckled. “What, me and Lulu? No. Not at all.” He thought for a moment. “I guess I see her more like an older sister. We met one night in Glahaneth, must be almost two years ago now. I was in rough shape after bingeing hard on cards and chemicals.” His eyes met the ranger’s. “I was in a pretty bad place…But she showed me kindness and spoke some hard truths that were pretty timely.”

  The gentle tinkle of a bell drew their attention back to the street. Up ahead, an older man leading a donkey walked toward them. The lumbering beast pulled a dray, its uneven contents hidden under a worn, stained tarp. Around the creature’s neck, a small bell bounced with every step, declaring the vehicle’s arrival.

  “Corpse cart,” Segwyn confirmed before both men pressed their backs to the wall, allowing the morbid caravan to pass. A familiar bright red liquid dripped intermittently from the cart’s open back, leaving a trail on the cobblestones behind. The pair watched with grim faces as it disappeared around the corner before resuming their journey.

  “Anyway,” Glynfir continued, “we started hanging out. I think it was mostly pity on her part, at least in the beginning. I think her life was pretty boring before we met.” His shoulders rose in a brief shrug. “She seemed to like the excitement I brought to things, and I appreciated her preventing me from living too large.” The wizard lowered his voice, leaning toward the ranger conspiratorially. “Self-control is clearly not my strong suit.”

  Segwyn smiled as he listened. “You certainly know exactly where you stand with her, and she doesn’t suffer fools.”

  “Tell me about it!” Glynfir agreed. “Why do you ask? Are you interested?” he raised his eyebrows in Segwyn’s direction with a grin. “I could put in a good word.”

  The ranger chuckled. “Thank you, but no. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on the dynamic between you and given how intertwined our lives are going to be until we find a way out of this mess, I wanted to understand it.”

  Glynfir nodded. Letting his hand linger on the door of the Smashed Skull, he shot the ranger a grin. “Well, just let me know if you change your mind.”

  As the door swung closed behind them, they paused, affording their eyes a moment to adjust to the shadow of the interior.

  “It’s about time!” a familiar voice called from the corner.

  And there was Lunish, the remains of a pork pie and an empty horn on the table in front of her, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “Took you long enough.” She gestured to the empty plate. “I nearly had time to eat this entire pie.”

  “Nearly?” Glynfir challenged, his eyes deliberately leading her gaze to the scant remaining crumbs.

  Lunish felt her cheeks flush as she noted the clear lack of pie remaining on her plate. “I guess I was hungrier than I realized,” she muttered.

  The two pulled up a stool after Segwyn dropped their package of uniforms on the table between them. Lunish’s eyes flashed, seeing the parcel, wrapped in brown paper, neatly tied with a string. “You went shopping?!” Her tone was incredulous. “I tell you we’ve been in a fight and Tsuta’s been captured, and you two decide to fit in a spot of shopping?” She pointed a finger at the wizard. “I swear, Glynnie, sometimes I’m not sure you could dump water out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel!” Her finger rounded on the ranger. “But I expected better from you.”

  The two men shared a knowing glance and a nod, in reference to their earlier conversation before Glynfir responded, his voice somewhat soothing. “Take it easy, Lulu. We had to walk over from the eastern quarter.” He gestured to the package. And they’re brown uniforms for the monks, so they’re less conspicuous. We bought them before you decided to rumble around in bear form.”

  The gnome grabbed her horn, tipping it back. Slightly annoyed to find it empty, she let out a long breath. “Sorry, I’m just still a bit wound up about what happened, and I’m worried about Tsuta.”

  Segwyn leaned in, elbows on the table, his fingers interlaced in front of his face. “We’ll figure it out together. Tell us everything.”

  “So, you don’t actually know he’s been captured,” the wizard observed after hearing her very animated version of the encounter at the Broken Spoke.

  “Where else could he be?” she challenged in response. “I went back to the alley, and it was empty.”

  “And you’re sure he was alive when you left him?” Segwyn asked.

  “Pretty sure.” She paused for a moment, her voice losing confidence as she continued. “He was definitely breathing when I left.”

  “Okay, well, there are really only three options,” Segwyn reasoned, counting them out on his fingers. “He’s either in irons, or they sent him to a doctor to be treated, or he’s dead and they took his body to the pyre.”

  “Don’t say that!” Lunish felt the flush hit her cheeks as she objected, the memory of Grym’s ashen form flashing in her mind.

  “Well, we have to consider the possibility, Lulu,” Glynfir said apologetically.

  “Since you two are fugitives in this town, I’ll go have a word with local law enforcement.” Segwyn offered. “Who knows, the Eldracum influence might even be helpful.”

  “The well-off do seem to receive a different treatment from the rest of us,” Glynfir agreed. Segwyn’s gaze snapped up immediately, but found the wizard’s expression neutral and focused on Lunish. “Why don’t I take the pyre, just in case...”

  She looked him in the eye, her hand moving to his shoulder. “Thanks, Glynnie, I really appreciate that. I’ll check out the nearby temples.”

  Segwyn stood. “Meet back here in an hour? The others should be back around the same time. If we come up empty, maybe they’ll have some other ideas.”

  “Oh, there’s one more thing,” Lunish said sheepishly as she rose, tucking her stool under the table.

  Glynfir looked at the gnome with a touch of concern. “What is it?”

  She bowed her head. “I’m, uh, a little short on coin. Would one of you mind paying for my pie?” Segwyn smirked and dropped two coppers on the table. She raised her eyes, head still bowed. “And my pint?”

  The ranger laughed, depositing another copper on the wooden surface. Her face and shoulders relaxed. “Thank you! I’m so sorry. I was just in such a state when I got here, I didn’t even check.”

  “Don’t even worry about it,” Segwyn dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand as they headed for the door. “You get the next one.”

  The Glimmerstone Enigma and The Siremirian Conundrum?

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