Redgate did not return in minutes, and hours had passed before a whooshing, crackling sound announced the arrival of a creature in the air above the four companions, wreathed in blood-coloured fire. The noise was strange enough to wake Ana from her slumber.

A black-skinned imp, four wings and a barbed tail framed against the mountain-shelf ahead of them – which looked even more ridiculously huge than before, now that the sun was up, now that they were a few hours closer…

The sorcerer had left them for so long?

The first thought that entered her head was that she could’ve stayed on Ibbalat’s camel with him for longer. Having him riding right next to her was nice, but not as nice as being able to feel his body against hers. Being able to squeeze him – sleep in the sweet, surprisingly non-revolting fragrance of his spell-components.

The second thought that entered her head was that Redgate had realised they were all onto him now, that they’d figured out his game somehow, and was now preparing to attack them – but then the imp gave its report.

“My master extends his apology to the Phanar of N’Lem regarding his continued absence,” it croaked at them. “He has now located the relevant tribes and will be returning shortly. He wishes for me to reassure you that word of your presence here will not reach the kobolds from the orcs. He also wishes for me to tell the Master Ibbalat that he has procured goblin texts of magic from one location which he thinks may be of interest to him.”

The moment it was gone, Ana drew Throatopener and Kidneysticker – no, she wanted Toothdrill for this –

“Anathta – please, put them away, he could be back any minute,” Phanar gestured at her dagger-filled hands.

“Did you hear what it said?” she screamed.

“I am with her!” Kani barked, despite having turned as pale as the ground. “He’s – he’s killed their whole tribe?”

“Oh… oh, no…” Ibbalat moaned.

“I heard the demon say ‘tribes’,” Phanar pointed out grimly.

“What have we done?” Kani gasped. “Bringing him here? What have we done? I could’ve – I should’ve come with you to meet him –“

“And if you had, you would have died, do you remember?” Phanar said.

“We need his power,” Ibbalat grated out the words. “Ylon’s an arch-druid. A full one. You know what that means – we have to take his head off. None of us are achieving that, believe me.”

At least this way, I can be happy whichever of them loses, Ana thought.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Aloud, she said, “At first I didn’t understand Redgate’s power. I thought he was underestimating Ord Ylon, always calling him an ‘it’, always being so confident – but now? I’m just worried because I think I’d rather the dragon kill me, than the sor… oh…”

“What?” Kani asked.

Ibbalat, staring at the rogue, seemed to intuit the same thing. “The orcs?” he said.

She nodded.

“What?” Kani repeated.

“N-nothing, Kani,” the mage stammered, looking down. “It’s just. You know. What a situation.”

“Tell me,” Kani demanded. “Someone tell me – now.”

“Well – he can certainly raise half-orcs as his servants,” the mage said as gently as he could, approaching the topic from an oblique angle, “and I don’t think he’d have any problems doing the same with full-orcs, if you follow me…”

“You think he has… turned them… into his…”

It was Kani’s turn to be sick.

* * *

It might as well have been an escarpment, given the suddenness with which the first shelf of land rose from the salt plain. If they had another day or two to follow the line of the cliff, they’d have eventually reached the point where a natural pass would take them up onto the higher elevation. But climbing would be quicker, and flying quicker still.

The murderer returned half an hour before they stopped, halted by the almost-vertical terrain before them.

Ana found it easier than ever to play the part of Redgate’s beloved since discovering the others knew what was happening – before she had felt like the performance was no better than lying to her friends, but the tables had been turned; every little action she took now was lying to the sorcerer, and she had to restrain herself lest she start to revel in it. At one point she almost caught herself saying ‘my love’ back at him, and, knowing it would sound too sarcastic, too confident no matter how hard she tried to inject some sincerity, hesitancy into the phrase, she just shut her mouth instead.

“Ibbalat,” Phanar said, “your spells?”

The mage, who’d spent the final hour in the saddle doing some last-minute revision, closed his spellbook and nodded. He stowed the volume in his saddlebag and slid off the camel.

One by one, they went to stand before the mage as he sang some high-pitched words in a warbling voice and showered them in crumbs of dried-out animal-parts.

When it was Ana’s turn, she distracted him by meeting his eyes and he almost had to start over.

He’s as nervous as me, Ana realised. She felt a sudden, overpowering urge to throw her hands about his neck and kiss him, even through the stupid-looking beard.

Beards suited some men – it’d definitely suited the attractive-in-an-unattractive-way helmsman she’d dallied with – but Ibbalat was too young – she wanted to be able to see his face, touch it…

“You’re ready,” he said, a little disappointment in his tone.

Well done, she thought, stepping aside so Kani could have her turn in the shower of delightful crumbs. He’s keeping up the act better than me, for once…

The thought of being outdone in a game of deception grated on her, and she resolved herself to commit to the pretence. He’d even managed to look exhilarated when Redgate had presented him with the thin box containing some tiny little scrolls of weird magic.

She looked up at the mountain looming above them, and felt a sudden strange sensation – a kind of weightlessness, focussed on the soles of her feet and under her arms…

She looked up at the mountain and thought: Just a few more hours. A few more hours, and you can be rid of him.

She turned her face to Redgate, smiled innocently, trying to let the same horror fill her eyes as had filled them for these endless past two weeks. But she knew inside she was sliding dangerously-close to ill-will.

Three charges. Straight into your heart.