“What do you figure it is, anyway?”

Nil walked in silence for a few paces before tilting her head to give Dahlia a withering look from just under the brim of her hat. “Surely you aren’t going to make me ask what in the world you’re talking about.”

“The Opus!” Dahlia said, spreading her arms. “The thing you and me and every other Villain and half the empire are out looking for. What do you think it actually is?”

“I am not interested in baseless conjecture.” Nil said, lifting her chin toward the horizon. “There are as many tales about the power of the Opus as stars in the sky, and not a single one of them holds a shred more verifiable evidence than any other.”

Dahlia hung her head. “Uuuugh, you have got to be the most boring person I’ve ever met. You’re after it, aren’t you? You must have at least a guess. A hope, maybe?”

The goblin responded with another of her looks. 

“Oh, what? You don’t hope, either?” 

Nil sighed, crossing her arms behind her back as she walked. “The Opus was created by a Collapse mage – one of the Villains whose wars with one another and the gods tore apart the old world and left us with this one. This much we know – or at least, that is the one thing on which the legends tend to agree. By all accounts, the Collapse mages were obsessed with two things: increasing their own power, and killing anyone who stood in their way.” She tilted her head, casting a glance skyward. The pall of gray cloud-cover that had hung since their escape from Kaldemere was thickening, a few sparse drops suggesting another coming shower. “Usually each other. With that in mind, it stands to reason that the Opus is either an artifact that allows for the amplification of magical power, or some sort of terrible weapon.”

Nil glared at the skyline ahead as if it had wronged her personally. “In either case, I will have it.”

A low whistle escaped Dahlia’s lips. “What’cha need something like that for, anyway?”

The goblin sighed. “Obviously I am not going to answer that.”

“I’ll get somethin’ out of you eventually.” Dahlia said, grinning. 

“No, you won’t.” Nil raised one perfect eyebrow. “What about you, then? What does an idiot girl with a death wish want with the most powerful relic in existence?”

Dahlia skipped slightly ahead, throwing her arms wide in a series of dramatic poses as she spoke. “I think the treasure we seek must be a device of immeasurable evil. Maybe it has the power to enslave the minds of every sentient being in Qorth, or – oooh, what if it triggers the final step of the Collapse? Sets the land ablaze, turns the skies to blood, and finally rips the very fabric of reality asund- oop!”

A stone in the path intercepted Dahlia’s heel mid-pirouette, sending her tumbling backwards through the grass. Barely losing momentum, she tucked into the roll and sprang back to her feet as if nothing had happened. “…ahem, asunder.”

Nil looked on with the air of an impassive caretaker watching an overenergetic child. “What would turning the skies to blood look like, exactly?”

“Search me.” Dahlia said, shrugging. “Just something people say.”

“‘Tis indeed a thing of most vile evil.” A muffled voice said from inside Dahlia’s bag. The emberling paused to shuffle through her belongings for a moment before pulling out Augustus. “However nefarious thine intent, ye ought abandon this foolhardy quest if ye be possessed of any reason at all.”

“Oh?” Nil smiled faintly. “Have you some insight on the relic’s true nature then, old man?”

“I wouldst sooner endure a thousand deaths than share with thee if I did, packling.” The skull growled. 

Nil chuckled. “Packling! I haven’t heard that one before. Dahlia, would you be so kind?”

“Oh, yeah. Hey Auggie, do me a favor, would’ja?” Dahlia said. 

“Once again, mine name is not Auggie, it is Augustus Q-”

“Yeah, super long, gonna forget it every time. Anyway, if you could just answer Nil’s questions like it was me askin’ ‘em going forward, that’ll probably save everybody a lot of time.”

The skull in Dahlia’s hand spent a few seconds emitting a dry, grinding rattle. “Very well.” It finally said, through clenched teeth. 

“‘Cuz otherwise she’s gonna ask something, and you’re gonna be all grumpy every time, and every time I’m gonna also wanna know what she wants to know so I’m gonna-”

“Yes. I understand the reasoning of thine request, mistress Dahlia. Now by the gods, cease thine prattling, I beg thee.”

The emberling pressed her lips together, eyes sparkling. 

Augustus heaved a dusty sigh. “If anything of the artifact’s true purpose was known to me, such knowledge hast been scoured from mine memory. I am afforded surety of our heading, and little more.”

What had been a few random drops minutes before had now become a gathering rain, pattering more consistently across the wide brim of Nil’s hat. She squinted up at the darkening clouds just ahead. 

“This is going to get worse before it gets better.” Nil said. “We should seek shelter before the storm overtakes us.”

Glancing upward, Dahlia gave a quick nod and tucked Augustus back into her travel sack. The pair quickened their pace, sweeping their gazes over the featureless grassland stretching in all directions. A flash of white light in the sky to the west, diffused among the clouds – then the rumble of thunder. Gentle rain grew toward a downpour, and their purposeful walk became a jog, then a run. 

Dahlia stretched out an arm, shouting to be heard over the torrent ambushing them.  “Over there!”

True enough, a stone’s throw from the muddy path lay a large hump in the earth, one gently sloping side overgrown with prairie grass. The southward edge, however, opened into a yawning cave mouth, a ramp of packed, stony ground descending to make the opening tall enough for a horse to enter without stooping. Nil and Dahlia sprinted for the entrance, wasting no time in passing through a final, chilling curtain of rain into the dry confines of the cave. 

A small rectangular chamber greeted them within, perhaps forty feet long and twenty wide, hewn roughly from the surrounding rock but obviously constructed by sentient hands. Piled in the center of the floor was a charred ring of stones; scattered bones had been strewn around the circle, as well as in several small heaps closer to the entrance. Finally, a simple door had been cut into the stone of the far wall, flanked by empty torch sconces on either side. 

Dahlia bent at the waist, setting her pack on the floor and raking both hands vigorously through her sopping hair. “Whew! That’s a wet one, huh? What d’ya figure this place is?”

When her traveling companion did not answer, she straightened and threw a curious glance in the goblin’s direction. Nil was standing perfectly still, staring ahead with an expression Dahlia had not seen on her face before – almost pained, confused, as if the witch had forgotten where she was. Her ears twitched as Dahlia watched, large eyes flickering. 

“Nil? You doin’ okay?”

“…Likely an entrance to a Cradle.” Nil said at last, quietly, absently, as if her mind were somewhere else. “Or an old-world dungeon. It doesn’t matter, we aren’t going further in.” She shook herself. “I’m fine. But we should not linger here any longer than necessary.”

Dahlia tilted her head. “I’m missing something. What’s going on?”

“The world is thin here.” Nil said, looking up at her – she seemed to have more or less recovered from whatever was affecting her. “I do not imagine you will be familiar with the concept.”

“Er…thin? Thin how?”

Nil took a step toward the small fire pit, stooping to sift through the ashy remains. “There’s a bit of leftover wood here. Help me make a fire, and I’ll explain.”

“Alright, sure. No problem.” Dahlia said, moving to put a hand against her chest. 

“A mundane fire.” Nil snapped, jabbing a claw toward the emberling like she was cracking a whip. “Unless you want to get us both killed. Don’t you have some flint or something in that pack of yours?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Good. Use that.”

—–

As they built their tiny fire, Nil began to speak. 

“I told you of the Vein before, did I not?”

“Mhm.” Dahlia ran her thumb down the length of a chunk of flint, flicking a spray of sparks into the pit. “Source of magic, or something.”

The witch made a conciliatory gesture. “The source of everything. Magic is a by-product. We call it the Vein because in many ways it resembles the circulatory system of the mortal body, but in truth it is far more complicated than that. Abstract. It is not a physical thing, except for when it is. It is…like a place, in some ways, a plane of existence, but if you somehow found yourself there you would not die so much as you would dissolve in all directions at once, backwards and forwards through time. It is like a vein, but it is also like an ocean, and a tapestry, and an anchor.”

Dahlia watched Nil’s face as she spoke, the fluttering glow of their timid little fire softening the goblin’s features. “Before the Collapse, the Vein was stable. All the laws of physics and metaphysics functioning the way they ought, the way they had since the beginning of time. Then the Collapse mages came along. They pushed past every natural limit the Vein imposes, every law of magic that thousands of generations of witches and sorceresses knew to respect. When another barrier revealed itself, they found a way to break through that as well. Strictly speaking, the time just before the Collapse was the greatest period of magical progress the world has ever known.”

Nil clasped her hands, staring into the fire. “The mages of the old world knew that the Vein affected reality, but not that the inverse could be true. Or they didn’t care. Too busy laying waste to the world around them, I suppose. Whatever the case, it was too much for the Vein to handle – too many mortals drawing on too much power for too long, burning through and devouring magical energy as fast as they could. Even if the boundary between our world and that plane of primal existence had not begun to degrade, the Collapse mages might have simply destroyed Qorth with their own neverending metaphysical arms race. 

“But it did. Degrade, that is. Wore through like an old cloth, or a dam forced to accommodate far, far too much water all at once. To say that the planes collided with one another is far too simplistic an explanation,” she gave Dahlia a patronizing glance, “but it will have to suffice for our purposes. To make a very long and complicated series of phenomena simpler still, that boundary healed over time, but never completely. It remains fragile, and there are places – not unlike wounds in a mortal body – where the barrier holds so tenuously that any amount of magic in the vicinity could potentially trigger a rupture. This is what we call the Thinning.”

Dahlia sat back with her hands on her knees, scanning the cave ceiling as if she might witness some strangeness there. “And that’s going on…here? Right now?”

“You truly cannot feel it?” Nil said, crossing her arms. 

The emberling shrugged. 

Nil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re either lying or your senses are dangerously dull. Anyone touched by the Vein should be able to sense it.”

Another shrug. “Like I keep tellin’ ya, lady. Pretty sure I’d know if I was a wizard or whatever.”

“So you say.” The witch leaned over to peer at the dim gray portal of the cave mouth. “In any case, do refrain from any of your unusual abilities until I say otherwise, if you don’t mind. I’d rather not be turned inside out today.”

Dahlia leaned back, letting one foot sway lazily back and forth. “How do you know all this stuff, anyway?”

“I read.” Nil said archly. “You ought to try it sometime.”

The pair sat in silence for a while, drying out, listening to the crackle of the flames and the gentle hiss of the rain. 

“Have you ever done that before?” Dahlia said suddenly, not looking up. “Killed someone, I mean.”

Nil raised her head. “Have you not? The great Dahlia Scratch, bane of all innocence?”

“Sure I have.” Dahlia delivered the three words with such colorless weight that the witch momentarily found herself without a cutting retort. When she looked up, her expression was unusually sober. “But I asked about you.”

Nil held eye contact for only a moment before looking away. “I didn’t kill them. They killed themselves, each and every one of them.” She said bitterly. “The moment they picked up those filthy weapons.” She bit the words off with abrupt venom, the hatred Dahlia had seen before in her eyes kindling anew. “If you want to blame someone, blame whatever mad fool saw fit to create those abominations and put them in the hands of the Triumvirate’s glorified thugs.”

Dahlia tilted her head thoughtfully. “You really hate those things, huh?”

“Their very creation was a sin against nature itself.” Nil snapped. “A trespass of the sacred connection between our world and the Vein.” The witch crossed her arms over her knees, leaning forward to stare bitterly into the flame. “I had heard rumors that the Triumvirate had been trying to find a way to harness magic without the need for a mage. Alchemy, they call it. I should say they call it that in theory, because such a thing should be impossible, but now…”

The goblin sat bolt upright, ears flicking out like wings. Instinctively, Dahlia spun toward the cave entrance, lifting herself into a low half-crouch upon one knee.

“What’s going on?” Dahlia whispered. “I don’t see anything.”

“Quiet!” Nil hissed. Her dagger slid from its hiding place in her sleeve into her palm. “Listen. Voices, five or…or more, but…”

Now Dahlia could hear it – a low clamor of muttering, barely audible above the sound of the rain but growing clearer by the second. She kept her eyes on the entrance, trying to pick out what was being said, but something was strange; the words seemed garbled, nonsensical, incongruous syllables cobbled together alongside random fragments of sentences. 

“What is that?” Dahlia whispered. 

Dark shapes – lean, four-legged, like wolves or huge dogs – resolved from the gray-white veil of the storm, dragging something large and humped along with them. Dahlia counted seven of them, three or four using their jaws to drag the larger body along at any given time while the others snapped and clucked at one another, or nipped at the hide of their fallen prey. All the while, the creatures burbled their strange simulation of sentient speech. 

“Thrugmee borch elelapp. Elelapp.” One chirped. 

“Muvvish.” Replied another, biting at the flank of a packmate who had ventured too close. “Gitpunn empty my shreef zib brifmin.”

The pack passed into the dry air of the cave, allowing Nil and Dahlia to see the creatures in full detail at last. They did resemble large dogs more than anything else, but hairless, their skin colored a dull, mottled blue. They were gaunt and angular, stark ridges of bone jutting out under the skin of their hips, shoulders and spines – and they had no faces whatsoever. A pair of sharply pointed ears crested each of the animals’ skulls, but below that was only an elongated dome of featureless skin, like the head of some gigantic worm. The skin split entirely along the length of the head when they opened their mouths, revealing rows of long, needle-sharp teeth the color of fresh blood. 

Nil and Dahlia remained motionless, hunkered against the ground. There was nowhere to hide, not even a particularly large rock or outcropping to obscure them; the pack would notice their presence in a matter of seconds. 

“False hounds.” Nil whispered. “Lure hunters. Very territorial. They aren’t going to let us just walk out of here.”

“You’ve seen these things before?!” Dahlia whispered back. 

Nil shook her head. “Never. Like I said, I read.”

One of the hounds looked up from their kill – a wylds bison, from the looks of the corpse – and sniffed the air, its ears swiveling like antennae. The creature’s smooth bean of a head began to morph, skin flowing and stretching, even shifting in hue to something approximating a human skin tone. A few horrifying seconds later, the hound wore a lifeless, disjointed simulacrum of a person’s face. 

“Heyyy,” it called out in a voice just wrong enough to chill the blood, “I need hellllp. Over here, pleeease. Helllllp.”

The rest of the pack lifted their heads, sniffing. 

“Get ready.” Nil said. “We’re going to need to break through them and run. Might earn a few extra seconds if we catch them by surprise.”

Dahlia gave her a nervous look. “You think we’ll be able to outrun them?”

“No.” Nil shook her head. “But if we get clear of the Thinning’s influence, I can disappear while those things tear you limb from limb.”

“Oh, ha-ha.”

“What in the world makes you think I’m joking?”

Whatever Dahlia’s next retort might have been, she never got the chance to utter it. Almost as one the hounds’ heads swiveled away, ears perking toward the cave entrance. Indistinct humanoid shapes wavered just beyond the watery curtain, growing clearer as whoever was outside wandered obliviously into danger. 

“HEY!” Dahlia shouted, beginning to rise, “LOOK OUT, THERE’S MMMPH-?”

The emberling did not manage to finish her warning before Nil tackled her, clamping her hands over Dahlia’s mouth. 

“What’s that?” A male voice called, shouting over the rain. “Who’s in there?”

The first of the new arrivals stepped through the veil – a human male, tall and broad-shouldered, one arm raising a small buckler against the rain. He stopped to wipe the water from his eyes, then froze. An unsettling growl had begun to rise from the false hounds. 

“Nevin!” He called out, keeping his eyes locked on the pack, “Philbey! We have a very immediate problem!”

Three more moved in quickly from behind him: a severe-looking elven woman, a halfling man, and a smaller human man in a hooded cloak. The elf went into a half-crouch almost instantly, drawing and nocking the bow strapped around her chest in a blur of deft motion. By the time the other two seemed to realize what was happening, she already had an arrow at full draw. 

“Careful! Careful, now.” The big man put one hand out toward her. “We don’t know if they’re going to attack.” 

“They outnumber us. Fresh kill, too.” The elf replied. Her voice was low and husky. “They’re going to attack.”

Indeed, the pack had already turned away from Dahlia and Nil and begun to fan out toward the edges of the chamber, forming a semicircle as they approached. The two men closest to the entrance traded a glance and pulled out weapons of their own; a pair of daggers for the halfling, while the human brandished a sturdy-looking walking stick. Only then did it become apparent that the stick was intricately carved with patterns of small runes. 

“Oh, Hells.” Nil muttered under her breath. 

“Well, if that’s the way it’s going to be, then.” The big human said, pulling a longsword from the scabbard at his belt, “Everybody try not to die.”

The elf let out a dismissive “Tch” and loosed a shot, taking the closest hound in the shoulder. It howled, its voice disturbingly reminiscent of a sentient being, and lunged, the rest of the pack following suit a split second later. Just before making contact with the party leader, the wounded dog feinted and hopped to one side, cleanly avoiding a wide intercepting swing from his blade. 

“Smart little fucker.” He grunted. 

As quickly as the fight had begun, it came to a halt. The new arrivals were almost fully surrounded, three of the pack slowly pacing towards the entrance to complete the circle. Another small sound of irritation escaped the elf as she slid a second arrow into place. Before Nil realized what was happening, Dahlia had sprung to her feet and leapt forward. A hound yelped in surprise as she collided with it in a full-body tackle, wrapping both arms around its bony chest and dragging the creature to the ground. 

“What in the-” Someone cried out. 

Several of the pack turned, confused, their attention suddenly pulled in two directions at once. To his credit, the party leader wasted almost no time being startled; the moment his target looked away, he took a step forward and put a powerful downward stroke through the hound’s neck, nearly severing the head entirely. Another arrow hissed through the air to bury itself in the hip of one of its packmates, causing the creature to yowl in pain and leap away, nearly bowling over one of the others in the process. At this point, chaos erupted in earnest. 

Dahlia, however, was unable to pay much attention to the larger fight. As it turned out, the false hound she had tackled was much stronger than its emaciated appearance suggested – it turned the tables on her almost immediately, twisting its body so violently that the emberling found herself pinned to the ground underneath it. Dahlia lay now with her back to the stone, one elbow braced against the hound’s throat as it lunged and snapped, dripping jaws so close to her face that she could smell its rotten-meat breath. She threw all her strength into a punch, hammering her fist into the beast’s ribs once, twice, three times; it flinched slightly, but did not retreat. Dahlia felt her arm begin to waver. 

Something landed on the hound’s back, and for an instant Dahlia was sure the sudden increase in weight would be the end of her. Then a small hand came down around the creature’s neck, plunging a dagger into the sickly blue flesh. She caught a glimpse of Nil’s grimacing face as the goblin tore her blade free and stabbed it in again, spraying Dahlia with foul black blood. The hound thrashed and whined, giving up its onslaught to try and shake off this new attacker; Dahlia reached up to catch it by the throat with one hand and threw one more punch with the other, aiming for the center of its jaws. She felt teeth shatter against her gauntlet. 

Grunting with the effort, Dahlia and Nil wrestled the dying animal to one side and collapsed against the cold stone floor. The pair sat there for a moment, gasping, staring at one another. 

“Thanks.” Dahlia finally managed. 

The goblin scowled and pushed herself abruptly to her feet, brushing dust from her dress. She said nothing. 

Around them, the fight had begun and ended in less than a minute. Four hounds now lay dead; one more or less beheaded, one riddled with arrows. The two smaller men were dragging themselves away from a third, from the looks of things having gone through a similar scrap to Nil and Dahlia. Everyone aside from the elf had earned a few nicks and scratches, but otherwise seemed uninjured. Dahlia turned to see the remaining three hounds limping away into the rain, baying grievously. 

“Fuck me, did we live?” The halfling exclaimed, looking about in wonder. “Are we alive?”

“Get ahold of yourself, Philbey.” The elf snapped. She turned to their leader, who was busy wiping his bloodied sword across his pant leg. “We should move in deeper, quickly. The pack may return.”

Philbey smirked wearily, looking around the chamber. “Pretty sure we could handle ‘em.” 

“Don’t be a fool. We were lucky, and that may not be all of them.”

“In good time, Nevin.” The big man said, sliding his sword into its scabbard. “In good time. Seems we’ve got company.” He turned to Nil and Dahlia. “You ladies alright?”

Nil tossed the hair from her face, bending to retrieve her hat from where it had fallen off in the melee as Dahlia climbed to her feet. “Perfectly fine, thank you.” The goblin said, smoothing out her skirts. She flashed a winning smile. “A bit winded, perhaps. Though I dare say my associate and I might have been in dire straits if not for your unexpected arrival.” Nil gave a small curtsy. “My thanks.”

“No need, ma’am, no need. Things could’ve gone a sight worse for us if not for you two.” He grinned a charming, lopsided grin and winked at Dahlia. “Name’s Mycah. This is Niven, Philbey and Arlum.” He gestured to the elf, halfling, and the sallow-looking man with the staff in turn. “Oh, he’s a mage, I should let you know, but don’t worry, he’s pretty shit at it.” 

Mycah grinned good-naturedly at Arlum, who managed a weak smile in return. 

“Hoy there!” Dahlia called out, sticking an open hand straight up in greeting. “I’m Dahlia, and this is-”

“Jezel.” Nil said quickly, managing somehow to infer an icy glare without actually looking at Dahlia. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Hey, pleasure’s ours.” Philbey said, eyes lingering on the goblin.

Mycah shot the halfling a knowing look. “Didn’t expect to run into anybody else this far into the countryside. What brings you girls out this way?” He tilted his head toward the cave mouth. “Pretty dangerous to be out here on your own, as you can see. Not just wildlife, either.”

“Whaddya mean?” Dahlia said. 

Nil eyed the elf, Niven, out of the corner of her eye. The woman had been watching the both of them with a silent, narrow-eyed glare ever since the battle. 

“Well, rumor has it some kinda big-time artifact got snatched off a train from Dianophon a few days back.” Mycah folded his arms – his forearms bulged with muscle and old scars. “Villain shit, you know how it is. The Wylds’ve been crawling with the bastards for the last few years, but now it’s like somebody turned over the rock they all been hidin’ under.” He made a sort of skittering gesture with one hand. “So yeah, not the best of times to be traveling alone, ‘specially for girls like yourselves.”

Dahlia watched Nil’s eyes narrow by the tiniest margin. “Your concern is appreciated, sir.” She said, gesturing languidly in Dahlia’s direction. “But as you can see, I am not alone.”

“Never answered the question.” Niven said abruptly. 

Nil’s eyebrows went up. “Beg pardon?”

“Captain asked what you two are doing out here.” Niven said curtly. “Never heard an answer.”

“I’m sorry,” Nil replied, smiling blithely, “has this become an interrogation without my realizing it?”

Niven moved swiftly to Mycah’s side, leaning in to whisper something into his ear. Behind them, Arlum and Philbey exchanged an uncertain look. After a few seconds Mycah nodded thoughtfully, his blue eyes scanning over the two of them. He smiled again, perhaps a touch less warmly than before. “Beggin’ your pardon, my friend here never did have much of a way with words. What Niven means to say is, us Traveler crews have had a few more responsibilities as of late. One of those responsibilities is dealing with any Villains we might come across – rooting them out, bringing them to justice, the like.”

“Like we ain’t risking our tails enough as it is.” Philbey grumbled. 

Mycah chuckled. “Sure. It’s just a precaution, ladies. Wanna make sure we’re all on the same page.” 

“Ooohhh,” Dahlia blurted, “so you guys are like, real Travelers.”

Everyone took a moment to stare at her. “Real?” Arlum said, speaking up for the first time. 

“We had an unfortunate run-in with some brigands on the road.” Nil said quickly. She shot Dahlia a let-me-do-the-talking glare and sighed. “But very well. If you must know, Dahlia and I are traveling to Fornoth on an astrological survey. The stars have been signaling dire portents these past months, and I intend to bring new information to the Deeplight Society’s attention before the threads of fate are thrown entirely into disarray.”

Mycah and his party traded slightly confused looks. “So you’re a…stargazer…?”

Nil smiled patiently. “Astronomer, astrologist, author and professor. Perhaps one of the more learned among you might have read A Treatise on the Heavenly Families?”

She received blank looks in response. Arlum shrugged. 

“Just as well.” Nil said, sighing. “I wasn’t credited anyhow, small wonder. Dahlia here is my trusty bodyguard.”

“Ah yeah, I heard about the Deeplights.” Philbey said. “Bunch of nutters who think the stars are gonna predict the end of the world. Again.” He hesitated and glanced at Nil, face reddening slightly. “Uh, I mean, that’s what I’ve heard people say.”

Nil smiled. “I’m not a member. Always found their academic traditions a bit…insular. Nonetheless, the Society commands an undeniable weight of respect in our field, and I believe my research will be of interest to them, and perhaps their coffers. So here we are.”

“Don’t see your kinds traveling together often.” Niven said, crossing her arms. “Unusual.”

“I don’t imagine you see many of my kind traveling at all.” Nil said, subtly angling herself to square off with the elf directly. “Another zyvir is often the best someone of my means can afford. Generally more tolerable as well, when it comes to longlegs.”

The rest of the group fell into an uncomfortable silence as the two women stared each other down. Eventually, Niven leaned once into Mycah’s shoulder, whispering, never taking her eyes off of Nil. 

“Alright folks,” Mycah said at last, “here’s what we’re gonna do. You ladies need to make for Fornoth, and if you’ll pardon an unsolicited opinion, you need more than just yourselves to get there safe. Roads are a lot more dangerous than they used to be. My crew, on the other hand, needs to clear this dungeon and claim any magical relics happenin’ to be squirreled away in there.” 

Dahlia turned to look at the doorway carved into the back of the chamber. “This place is a dungeon? Who would put a prison all the way out here?”

“Nah, different kinda thing.” Philbey said. “See, the Villains of the old world were obsessed with hoarding power whatever way they could. Bunch of ‘em started digging out places like this, repurposing natural caves, whatever you like, then filling ‘em up with traps and nasties and whatnot to protect whatever treasure they wanted to hide at the bottom. Qorth is riddled with these things.”

“Which is why they send out the reclaimer crews.” Mycah continued. “In other words, us. So, here’s my proposition. Jezel, Dahlia; you two tag along for the dive, back of the pack, safe as you please. Scouts have this hole marked with nothin’ but a few stubborn traps, so there won’t be any real danger anyway.” His smile quirked ironically. “Scouts failed to mention a roving pack of false hounds, but I assume they aren’t a feature. Then, when all that’s said and done, we’ll take you girls straight to Fornoth. We make sure you are who you say you are, you get an escort straight where you’re headed,” Mycah clapped his hands jovially, “everybody wins.”

“Sounds fun!” Dahlia blurted. 

“Absolutely not.” Nil said, almost simultaneously. She gave the emberling an obligatory glare, then continued, “I see no reason at all why I should divert any further from my schedule to humor your unfounded suspicions. Dahlia and I will fare perfectly well on our own, thank you very much.”

The elf’s thin lips twisted into a vicious little smirk. “I can think of a reason.” 

“Now listen, let’s all try to be civil here.” Mycah patted the air with a placating gesture. “I hate to inconvenience you ladies, I do, but the fact of the matter is that it’s the Guild’s responsibility to minimize risk. Now, we could take your story at face value and let you on your way, but there are…” He glanced furtively toward Niven, “…extenuating circumstances that make that, well, a risk. You understand.”

“Extenuating circumstances.” Nil said slowly. 

Mycah’s air of affability dimmed a degree. “Don’t make me say it out loud, ma’am.”

Nil smiled bitterly. “And if we refuse your generous offer?”

“Then we perform our duty to the Guild.” Niven said, shrugging. “And you two never leave this cave.”

“J-just a moment, surely we needn’t take such drastic measures.” said Arlum, shuffling forward nervously. “They helped us, can’t we find a better way to-”

A single hard look from Mycah stopped him mid-sentence. “Did they, Arl? Because it looked an awful lot to me like we rescued them. Take a step back, mage.”

Arlum shrank back without any further complaint, head drooping as Philbey yanked him away by one sleeve, whispering to him with agitation. 

“Whew!” Dahlia put her fists against her hips, rolling back on her heels. “Got a lot less friendly in here all of a sudden, huh.”

Mycah’s smile reappeared as if it had never left his face. “Ain’t gotta be, miss Dahlia, but that’s up to your pretty little boss here.”

“Yes, well. Not exactly much of a choice, is it.” Nil said, her tone kept carefully level. “Gather our things, Dahlia. It seems as if we’re taking a bit of a detour.”

“Fan-tastic.” Mycah clapped his hands together, grinning. “I know it’s an imposition, I do, but I promise we’ll grow on ya in no time at all. Well, most of us.” He winked teasingly at Niven, and was rewarded with an icy glare. “Trust me, when you’re safe and sound in Fornoth with hardly a speck of road dust on ya, you’ll be glad for this little encounter.”

The witch smiled sweetly. “I suppose I ought to pray that you don’t take a wrong step down there and end up decorating the walls, then.”

Another wink. “I wouldn’t worry overmuch, ma’am. My crew has a trick up our sleeve, don’t we, Mr. Folbrook?”

The haggard mage looked up and nodded, making a half-hearted attempt at a smile. He straightened his back, gripped his walking stick, and made for the doorway. Mycah and the others turned to follow once he passed, an unspoken procedure putting the mage at the front of the group. Dahlia gave Nil a glance, shrugged, and fell into step behind them. 

Nil walked quickly to Mycah’s side. “What do you mean,” she said carefully, “a trick up your sleeve?”

“You’ll find out in a moment.” The big man said, a twinkle in his eye. “See, a lot of treasure hunters go after places like this. Thinking, y’know, after a thousand years the beasties must be dead or run off, the mechanisms all rusted to shit. But those crazy old wizards were a wily bunch, and they built their traps to last. Takes real expertise to get through more than a delve or two and live to talk about it.”

Nil arched an eyebrow. “That’s what you’ve got, then? Real expertise?”

Mycah laughed. “Gods, no. What we’ve got is him.”

Just before the threshold, Arlum paused, slowly lifting a hand to run his fingers along the rough stone of the doorway. He lifted his shaved head as if smelling the air. 

“What’s the hold-up, mage?” Niven called impatiently. 

Arlum looked over his shoulder, an uncertain look on his face. “Do none of you feel that?”

“Feel myself gettin’ older.” Mycah crossed his arms. “There a problem, Arl?”

“No, no, no problem.” Arlum said, a little hurriedly. “It’s just…strange. Gone now, anyway.”

The halfling, Philbey, reached out to put a hand on Arlum’s sleeve. “Just nerves, old friend. You’ve done this a dozen times.”

Arlum smiled with a twinge of uncertainty. “Of course, it’s just…pay me no heed. Let us get this over with.”

The mage turned and nodded, then reached over his shoulder to pull a cloth-wrapped torch from his pack, prompting the other three to do the same. As each pulled out a small box of matches and set about lighting their torches, Arlum took a second glance in Nil and Dahlia’s direction. 

“Oh,” he said softly, glancing into his pack, “ah, my apologies. I’ve only enough for the four of us.”

“Not to worry.” Mycah said, turning another winning smile on Nil and Dahlia. “Just stick close, and you’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure.” Nil said humorlessly. “Dahlia, please try not to wander into the darkness and fall down a hole.”

Dahlia snapped out a salute. “I shall endeavor.”

And so, with Arlum in the lead, the party stepped through the first door and into the dungeon proper. A much wider space lay on the other side, swallowed almost entirely by shadow; Arlum put a hand out behind him and leaned through the portal, holding his torch out and sweeping it in a gentle arc to illuminate as much of the chamber as possible. Even for Nil, there was little to see. The room was more or less square and carved from the same dark gray stone as the entrance hall, with four evenly spaced supporting pillars breaking up the emptiness. Upon closer inspection, one might have noticed the odd pattern of irregularly-sized squares carved into the floor – as well as several dark stains and what looked to be pieces of splintered bone scattered about the corners of the room.

“Ah, just – just one moment.” Nil said, pushing her way towards the front of the group. “Before you do…whatever it is you’re planning on doing, let’s consider all our options.”

Mycah made a casual, dismissive gesture. “No need, little lady. Like I said, our man here will take care of things. Right, Arl?”

“Right.” Arlum said, gripping his staff. “Everyone stand back a moment.”

“Yes, I’m sure he can, but…” Nil went on – to Dahlia’s surprise, she sounded genuinely nervous. “This magic business, it’s quite dangerous, isn’t it?”

Mycah chuckled. “With a powerful mage, maybe. But don’t worry, Arlum here is just about the farthest thing from powerful.”

“You’re too kind.” Arlum grumbled under his breath. 

“What he is,” Mycah went on, “is a very fine hand with a particular art.”

Mycah put a thick hand on the mage’s shoulder. “Ready to give these girls a little show, pal?”

Arlum grimaced. “I shall see what I can do.”

He closed his eyes and lifted his staff, stretching out his arms so that his hands were the only part of him extending through the doorway. Still gripping the staff in his right hand, Arlum moved his left to trace his fingers delicately over a sequence of carved runes. The symbols began to glow softly under his touch; he tilted his head slightly this way, then that, as if listening for something. His staff drifted back and forth, mirroring the motion of his head. 

“Ah.” He said softly, and tapped the tip of his staff against the floor. Nil squeezed her eyes shut, shoulders hunching. 

Dahlia’s first thought, as the rumbling began, was that it seemed a highly coincidental moment for an earthquake. She went into a half-crouch instinctively, head whipping around to see if they were all about to be buried under chunks of collapsing earth; that is, until she noticed that none of the Travelers seemed to be reacting. Philbey and Niven, if anything, looked slightly bored; Mycah only grinned wider when she caught his eye. 

A column of solid rock shot up from the floor ahead and smashed into the ceiling with enough force to draw forth a shower of dust and stone fragments from above. Nil made a startled squeak and stumbled back from the door – she barely had time to process what had just happened before it happened again, and again, numerous pillars springing up to strike at the ceiling like stone fists. Each column was square, its circumference defined by a section of what had appeared at first to be a grid carved into the floor; after slamming upward, each column began to retract slowly until it was just another part of the floor. Large sections of the room moved in alternating waves now, pistons surging in a massive earthen engine, creating such a cacophony that Nil was forced to palm her ears flat against the sides of her head and sending clouds of gritty, choking dust into the group’s faces. 

“Just a moment longer!” Arlum shouted over the roar. “I’ve almost-”

Silence. From one second to the next the chamber went motionless, its pillars frozen in staggered clusters that turned the once featureless room into something like a diorama of a miniature mountain range. Large portions of the space were simply inaccessible now, great clumps of columns stretching floor to ceiling like the trunks of massive trees. 

“…got it.” 

“Whoah!” Dahlia cried out, loudly enough to freshly startle the others. Before anyone could think to stop her, the emberling had pushed past Arlum and into the chamber. 

“What is this place?” She went on, dashing to and fro amongst the hills and peaks, hands darting over columns like overenergetic spiders. “Is it mechanical, do you think? What kind of pneumatic systems would you even need to run a device like this? The interstructure alone must be massive…”

Dahlia continued chattering excitedly to herself as she climbed over a particularly large peak and out of sight, disappearing with a flash of pointed crimson tail. 

“Dahlia!” Nil hissed, pushing forward but stopping just short of entering the chamber. “Dahlia, you simpleton, get back here this instant!”

Niven’s upper lip curled with a hint of scorn. “Your associate seems… excitable.” 

“Yes, well, you know what they say about good help. Dahlia!”

The emberling’s head popped into view in an entirely different corner of the room. “…or maybe it isn’t mechanical at all, I mean, the energy usage would be massive and I haven’t seen so much as an exhaust vent anywhere down here. Could it be powered by magic? Hey!” Seeming to suddenly remember that the others were present, Dahlia rushed back toward the doorway, tripping catastrophically in the process. She came to her feet breathlessly before Arlum. “How does this place work? How did you do that?”

“I. Uhm.” He stammered, obviously somewhat taken aback. “I don’t know if I can be of much help with…most of your questions, miss Dahlia. But I have some meager talent for telemanipulation, and it allows me to…” Arlum paused, working his jaw as he searched for the right word. “…douse out the trigger mechanisms, you might say, for these sorts of traps. And, well, deactivate them.”

“Meager is right.” Mycah said, nudging the mage with an elbow. “Man can hardly levitate a pebble most days. It was only blind luck we figured out he was good for anything at all.” 

Arlum laughed weakly. “At any rate, it should be safe to pass through now, though I suppose your friend has already proven as much.”

“Be that as it may,” Nil said, peering into the chamber with trepidation, “I think I’ll bring up the rear, if it’s all the same to you.”

Shrugging, Mycah reached out to casually push Arlum through the door. Philbey followed a moment after, leaving only Nil and Niven standing in the bottom of the stairwell. 

“Don’t lag behind.” The elf said, glaring down at Nil without actually turning her head. “Try to run, and you won’t like what happens.”

“Tell me,” Nil said conversationally, “are you always this friendly, or did a strong breeze knock you out of your tree this morning?”

Niven scoffed wordlessly and walked through the doorway, stepping nimbly over the tops of several upraised columns as if they were rocks in a stream and quickly overtaking the others. Drawing in a deep breath, Nil made her best effort to will away the mental image of being smeared into paste against the ceiling and stepped across the threshold. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin as Dahlia appeared from around the blind corner. “Hey, N-” The emberling stopped short and turned to make sure the others were out of earshot before continuing in a loud whisper. “Hey, Nil! Isn’t this place great? I mean, sticking a machine like this a hundred feet underground in the middle of nowhere? Those old world Villains really knew how to party. It’s got me inspired, y’know? Like, I really gotta get my hands on some sorta evil fortress and just jam-pack it full of crushers and spike pits and flame spouts and…hey, you’re lookin’ kinda pale, you alright?”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine.” Nil’s voice had taken on a distant, hollow quality. “It’s only that we all just came within a coin flip of dying horribly, you see.”

“Huh? With the…” Dahlia looked around for a moment, confused. “Oh! Is this about that magic thing?”

“Yes it’s about that magic thing!” Nil hissed. “The only reason you and I are still alive, apart from sheer luck, is because that idiot human’s magic is so impotent.” She shook her head in frustration. “But luck won’t be enough if he does any more casting down here. We need to find a way to keep Arlum from utilizing magic again.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy then, isn’t it?” Dahlia said, turning to catch up with the rest of the group, “We’ll just let ‘em know!”

Nil’s hand darted out to grab Dahlia by the tail, yanking her back. “We will do nothing of the sort. The only people who can detect latent Thinning without extensive equipment are mages, Dahlia. What do you think is going to happen if we try to tell them something only a mage could know?!”

Dahlia squinted for a long moment, as if deep in thought. “From context clues, I’m going to say it would be something bad.”

“Yes, Dahlia,” Nil said, shoulders slumping as she used one hand to massage her forehead, “that is an apt assessment. They’ve already made it clear our lives are forfeit if we refuse their escort – the revelation of our true identities would make that decision much easier for them.”

“C’monnn, they wouldn’t actually try to kill us.” Dahlia’s tone was light, but her eyes went uncertainly to the far end of the chamber. “These are…y’know, hero types. They’re just trying to scare us into giving away the game.” 

Nil gave a tight, patronizing smile. “Let’s hope you’re right. Come on, we’re falling behind.”