It took all of Razorscale’s willpower not to snap at the orcs to paddle faster. He knew that this was the best speed he would be getting from anyone, short of going ahead on the flying carpet, but that didn’t help his patience. Instead he focused on strategies, mentally going over every possibility he could think of and sharing the most likely with his apprentice.

By the time the afternoon sky darkened into evening, and the next village appeared on the coastline, the plan had solidified into two things. Confine the offending mages, and perform the counterspell. The method of accomplishing the first would depend on many factors, but the second would be done by the apprentice. Razorscale had spent a solid hour going over the incantation and power work that he had put together during his long carpet flights.

It was simple enough for someone with Razorscale’s centuries of experience. He was gambling a lot on the apprentice’s ability to get it right on the first try, but it was a gamble that he felt confident in. And he would be there to advise.

The boats glided toward shore amid the raucous singing of the orcs, who had mastered a new song courtesy of the minotaur woman. It revolved around stomping in time. Razorscale was glad to be returning to land.

Less glad to have their forward momentum stopped, but he’d take what he could get.

Landing and disembarking were chaos. This village was a harpy one too, though with a different layout that Razorscale didn’t care to examine in the fading light. There were dozens of harpies crowding the beach to greet the orcs, who were loudly happy to see them, spending only a cursory amount of attention on their passengers.

Razorscale clambered out of the boat, blanket bundle in hand and apprentice close behind. They took up a position out of the way but close enough. One by one the other temporary humans found them.

The pixie’s clothes had dried in the sun, though by the way he carried his shoes over the pebbly ground, those still had a ways to go. The minotaur was helping the centaur, who had long since run out of pixie dust. The harpy was inspecting the village and pretending not to notice them stumbling behind her.

“What’s the plan?” she asked Razorscale. “The town hall is smaller here, and may not have space for sleeping.”

The centaur looked up in alarm. “Wait, we’re staying overnight? Aren’t the orcs sailing farther?”

“Not in the dark,” the harpy told her.

“Maybe we could sleep in the boats,” suggested the minotaur. “They’d probably let us.”

“Or,” Razorscale said testily, “We could keep moving instead of wasting a whole night.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

They argued with him. Apparently they were all overly fond of sleeping, and afraid of what might hide in the dark. A prey mindset. No amount of insisting that predators would steer clear of even a small dragon swayed their fear, nor did his certainty that he could handle a hypothetical thief.

“We could trip over something,” said the pixie. “I don’t think I’ve ever walked in the dark for long.”

Razorscale rolled his eyes. “You will be riding the carpet with her,” he said, pointing at the centaur, who wobbled in place despite the minotaur woman she clung to. “No one else has wet shoes or other petty problems. There is a moon out. We will be fine.”

They were still reluctant, exasperatingly so, and the conversation went in circles until Razorscale’s apprentice spoke up.

“Mentor,” they said. “The pixies are back.”

Razorscale followed the pointed talon, and saw what looked like a cluster of colorful stars moving in the distance. He tried not to mourn his dragon vision as he squinted. “So they are. Good news for everyone.” Especially me.

“Hooray, I knew it!” the pixie exclaimed, waving his wet shoes around happily. “I told you so. I told you they’d catch up.”

“Yes, good job,” Razorscale said. “You can be in charge of flagging them down before they start talking to the orcs.”

The pixie agreed readily, dropping his shoes to jump around wave his arms. Fortunately for him, the ground was all smooth pebbles here, with none of the bigger rocks to trip over.

Razorscale gathered up a few of the better pebbles in case they needed any more glowstones. He had them all hidden away in the apprentice’s pack by the time the pixies descended in a brilliant multicolored swarm.

Utter madness. Unprofessional. Razorscale was glad they had paid up front, and only needed to accept the two smaller bags of dust that the colorful maniacs had brought for the centaur and the harpy. Then just as quickly, the pixies swept off to deliver the rest of their payload to the orcs.

Razorscale deliberately turned his back on that exuberant interaction.

The centaur was already rubbing glittery dust into her hair, lifting off the ground with a beatific smile. The harpy was conserving hers.

Razorscale pointed at her pixie dust bag. “Go ahead and open it up,” he said. “The carpet can only hold two.”

There was another token resistance to the idea of leaving now, but they had no leg to stand on and clearly knew it. Soon enough they all were agreeing with Razorscale (finally!) and hashing out the details.

The centaur and the harpy would fly with the pixie dust. The minotaur and the pixie would ride on the carpet, with the bulk of the supplies. The apprentice would fly under their own power.

“What about you?” asked the pixie. “Are you gonna ride—?” He glanced at the apprentice. “No offense, but you seem a little small for passengers.”

“No,” Razorscale said. He pressed a finger to his side, where the speed charm was belted under his shirt. The motion was unnecessary since the charm already touched his skin, but it did make his arm glow spectacularly when he activated it. “I will run.”

The pixie cocked his head. “Did you eat those things?”

Razorscale glared. “They’re on a belt.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Now if there are no more foolish objections,” Razorscale said as he let the mage lines fade, “Let’s gather the rest of our things, say our goodbyes, and be off. It’s only a couple hours’ flight from here if we make good time.”

“Do we really want to arrive in the dark?” the centaur asked. “Wouldn’t daylight be better?”

Razorscale smiled as if his teeth were still sharp. “Nighttime will be perfect.”