Baby Feet’s nostrils opened wide as it sniffed at the air, letting its tongue loll out, wanting more. But the monster hobgoblin’s belly pulsed blueish green, so I realized the effect of the cinnamon would short-lived. The water crystal’s healing properties were already fighting the poison.

But for now, Baby Feet was distracted.

As Baby Feet laughed and stomped, its grip on Zareb loosened, and the paladin dropped clanking the stone floor. Khemri’s light still surrounded Zareb, so he couldn’t be dead. He also held tight to his sword. Dead paladins didn’t do that either. Unless they were petrified. Or ran afoul of a Medusa.

With three notes of disappointment at the lack of goblin sneezing, Mischief floated back into the lute. Exhaustion weighed her every note, and I knew I wouldn’t be getting anymore favors until we’d both rested and recharged.

Lacking a better plan, I pulled the lute in front of me and played my best and only goblin reel. Better our hobgoblin horror was laughing than fighting, so I kept all foot related insults from the music, focusing on keeping the tune as lively and cheerful as anyone could amid such insanity.

Baby Feet toe-tapped in time to the beat, each movement making the ground shake.

Zareb got up again, and his face looked better. Maybe he’d been playing limp, so he had time to heal. Smart paladin.

Once he was upright, Xy’lint leaped, gliding through the air in a wide arc behind the hobgoblin who was too caught up in its mirth to pay attention.

Larendil darted between the steps of the impromptu dance, slashing her dagger at another buckle as Eira grabbed a vial from her belt and, biting at the mouth, pulled free the plug and gulped the liquid down.

Xy’lint swept zher tail over a square area of four stones to my right, and when nothing clunked, dropped, or crunched, landed with surprising grace at my side. “Whaaaaat issss your idea?”

Shocked, I flubbed my fingering, and Baby Feet stamped with irritation. The ground rippled, and a spear the width of a sapling oak flung from one of the walls and slammed into the opposite, missing Eira by mere feet. I set my fingers back on the strings as I stared up at Xy’lint. Had the scalemaw come over to hear my idea?

Xy’lint lowered its enormous, pointed head towards me and narrowed its yellow-orange glowing eyes. Right, don’t test the patience of the giant scalemaw. Or maybe Xy’lint was a small, weak scalemaw. A scalemaw was a scalemaw. This was my first scalemaw, but I had eyes and guts, which were now clenching in terror.

“Itching powder,” I blurted out.

Xy’lint squinted. It was almost a blink. Smoke curled from one of zher nostrils.

“You’re a healer,” I explained, quickly speeding up the fingering as I went. Baby Feet had stopped laughing, which probably meant the cinnamon was wearing off. “You should have herbs or something. Or maybe you can do a spell. If we can get Baby Feet out of that armor, it’d make things easier.”

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“I ssssseee.” Xy’lint scratched a silver white [scimitar] of a claw over its scaled chin. “Isssss ideaaa. But neeeedssss to touch ssssskin under armor.”

Xy’lint had a point. We’d powdered the templars’ undergarments. And Baby Feet’s undergarments—I really didn’t want to think about Baby Feet’s undergarments—were, by nature, currently under the armor. Shielded like the rest of Baby Feet except the baby feet.

“Maybe we could powder the feet?” I suggested.

“Hssssss.”

Was that a thoughtful hsssss, or a ‘quit wasting my time, bard’ hssss?

Larendil sliced at a third buckle, and the left leg bracer flapped open revealing bare, pocked green-yellow goblinish skin. The skin was ugly, even for a magically corrupted hobgoblin, pocked with dark welts and more than one oozing sore. Maybe it was because there was no padded underlayer between the armor and body, though some kind of mud smeared over parts of the skin. Another layer of armor or magical protection?

Something about the sores pinged a memory. Eustacia, my sister, and the gold necklace our father had given her for her transition from childhood when she turned fifteen.

Zareb crouched and grabbed at the flapping edge of the legbrace, yanking it open like a clamshell that had royally pissed him off. Embedded in the skin and bone of the monster hobgoblin’s calf sat a single green crystal the size of a fist. A Les fist, not a Zareb one. It swirled in shades of green and brown.

Recognizing the danger far too late, Baby Feet lunged for Zareb. But the Paladin was too fast, slamming his gauntleted fist into the crystal. “Heart of Khemri!” he shouted and sunlight flared as Zareb pressed his weight into the point of impact.

Baby Feet roared and the fire jewel arm glowed red.

“Not today!” Eira shouted, and fingers spread wide, she threw an ice-bolt right between Baby Feet’s eyes. The firebolt Baby Feet had been readying fired off wildly, landing somewhere between Zareb and Eira, as though the creature had been caught between targets and been too disoriented to choose.

Maybe the cinnamon was still having some effect.

The humming of steel against crystal, sun against earth, grew into a high pitched keen and then, with a thunderous crack, exploded.

Bloody crystal shards tinged off Zareb’s armor like hail on a metal roof.

“Urg?” Baby Feet grunted, the creature’s expression a mix of confusion and agony as it staggered and swayed. The bone where the crystal had sat was shattered, with bits like twigs jutting out through its mangled flesh.

Zareb, panting from the effort, adjusted the grip on his sword. The surrounding light had returned to a faint, glowing aura, and his mouth moved in what I assumed was a prayer of thanks.

“Thank you, Khemri,” I whispered. Best to stay on the good side of deities. Especially when they were saving your life. And so long as Khemri wasn’t a god who favored chastity or moderation, my thank you probably wouldn’t insult her.

Blue-green energy pulsed from the monster hobgoblin’s belly, and a watery jelly flowed from between the joints of Baby Feet’s armor.

Baby Feet, reduced to one functioning leg, swayed back and forth like an axed tree waiting for the final push to fall. Larendil, moving with obvious care, sliced her dagger at another of the armor’s buckles on Baby Feet’s opposite leg. But the blade caught in the ooze. Larendil, her muscles straining, struggled to pull it free.

“Sssstaaaay back!” Xy’lint called out in hissing warning. “It will uuuusssse your water and life for healing.”

Larendil leapt away as more ooze poured from the wounds, and the blueish glow of the water element brightened.

Then, with another staggering hop, the monster hobgoblin tipped. Larendil, eyes wide, dove and rolled as Baby Feet toppled onto the stone ground with a thudding squelch.