As Joe was kneeling to check on his teammates, a droll voice broke through the remaining sounds of masonry settling. “Well, that was utterly unexpected,” Jink mused from behind Joe’s back. “I’m sure there is some parable about getting your just rewards but it ill behooves us to mock the recently deceased.”

“Even having seen it, I cannot wrap my head around him dying like that. Sorting out what just happened is just only one of the huge questions I have about tonight,” Joe declared, standing and staring pointedly at the dandily-dressed elf. “But we don’t have time right this minute. The Count’s arm and Hah’roo’s head are getting worse. My healing upgraded so I might be able to fix them now but if I don’t get to a temple in the next thirty-three minutes, I am going to turn into whatever the Night Skinner was. We have to move and move fast.”

“Goodness grief. How do you survive in this constant state of urgency? It’s exhausting. Very well. I can help us but we have to get over there first,” Jink stated, pointing at the buildings on the edge of the holy ground. “I should be able to lift the winsome lass here if you can carry the valorous veteran there.”

“Sure. I need to change my pants in a minute, but I can wait until we get there.”

“Not at all surprising. That was a truly harrowing experience,” the elf quipped cheekily.

“Very funny,” Joe scoffed picking up Count Randeau. The man was heavy but Joe’s increase to Strength made the burden manageable. Joe transported Valloc in a fireman’s carry, while Jink staggered under Hah’roo’s weight, holding her like a bride.

When they reached the edge of the Vyne’s green, Jink led them behind what looked like an abandoned building. Joe wondered what the elf could possibly want here at this time. He did not see anything but a dozen old barrels and crates tucked under a sagging overhang.

“Jink …,” Joe began but his rakish companion just lifted a finger to silence him. Jink began to cast and suddenly ground around them appeared to turn from dirt and cobblestones into green grass as equally lush as the lawns of the wine god. Joe shuffled his feet but his bare taloned toes did not ruffle the green stalks; they passed right through them.

Jink flicked a finger at the ground. In the spot he indicated a colorful mushroom popped into existence in the ethereal grasses. He repeated the gesture several times until a dozen or so toadstools stood in a circle on the ground before him. The conjurer completed his spell with a call in a language Joe did not understand. The words had an elegant sound to them.

The air in the middle of the mushroom rings filled with a lavender and gold mist and a tiny man stepped out of the swirling cloud. He was about a foot tall and dressed in a brown coat and pants. He had a formal shirt, a wide-brimmed hat, and shoes with curled-up toes.

Jink continued to speak in the foreign rolling language and the small man returned a nod to the water elf. Suddenly five more of the little fey men joined the first. Jink gestured at the stacks of empty containers and the hoard of brown-coated fey dashed over and started pulling the crates and barrels apart.

“Ah. When you need something fixed, there are few things better than a batch of benevolent brownies,” Jink explained sounding very pleased with himself.

“You can control fey creatures.”

“Not control per se. Most fey spells are transactional in nature,” Jink replied as the pair watched the brownies work. “Thankfully the task I have requested is menial enough that the debt incurred is minor. Sometime tomorrow I will reward them with a basket of honey rolls or a pouch of rock candy and they will consider the deal done.”

In no time at all, the brownies had used the iron bands from a couple of barrels to create a pair of wheels. They seemed very reluctant to touch the metal until they donned sets of heavy brown mittens. The crates were flattened and tacked together to make the bed of a small wagon. The six brownies fashioned an axel and shafts for pulling the contraption next. In less than a minute, Joe was looking at a serviceable low two-wheeled cart.

Jink waxed eloquently in the fey-tongue before both he and the brownies exchanged bows. The little men dashed back into the mists and the illusion vanished. Joe found himself standing on hard-packed dirt with the occasional cobblestone without the mirage of grasses again. The only proof the little men had been there at all was their new rickshaw-like wagon.

Joe laid the Count down on the boards and moved to get Hah’roo. Once she was loaded as well, he finally pulled on the [Dreadstalker Leggings].

“Ok, we have just under half an hour. I’ll pull. You lead. Keep in mind if we get lost or stuck somewhere, I’m dead.”

“No worries my good man. I know this city like the back of my hand,” Jink stated ironically holding up a gloved digit. “Let us be off.”

Joe concentrated on [Morphic Form] and imagined the heavily muscled change he had invoked in the dream realm. His clothing rapidly grew snug, as his back and thighs swelled.

“Gah!,” Jink squawked. “Keep your head down, son. You look positively feral all of a sudden. Your previous mild-mannered appearance passed right over everyday animalistic, landing deeply into ‘scaring the children’ predatory.”

Joe looked into a nearby glass window and managed to catch a distorted reflection of himself. His chin did look far more pronounced. He spotted hair on his jawline as well. When he reached up to feel, his fingers found thick muttonchops flowing down from slightly pointed ears.

When he spoke his voice sounded deeper and more guttural. “I have less than a half an hour or this gets much worse. Can we make it to Telemont Square in that time?”

“That we can. The Temple of Myrrhcee is our best bet. Follow me.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Jink trotted away and a good clip. Joe dug his bare feet into the dirt and stones and pulled. Getting the cart moving was difficult. By flaring [Steadfast] to gain traction and with [Hunter Pursuit] and a shot of [Efferous Endurance], Joe was able to get rolling after a few seconds. In no time, he had gained speed, catching up to the jogging elf.

The pair ran back towards the temple district making remarkable time. Joe tossed [Healing Waves] behind himself every couple blocks to bolster Hah'roo and Count Valloc. That was the best he could do as he he needed most of his attention on keeping the cart rolling smoothly down the avenues, especially around turns. Joe almost overturned the whole contraption, nearly dumping his passengers, the first time they switched directions. After that, he slowed any time the had to change streets. Thankfully there were not too may such turns.

They reached Telemont Square with an extra fifteen minutes to spare. At the gates of the temple of Myrrhcee, it took just one mention of lycanthropy, the Night Skinner, and their deadline, and the group was immediately rushed inside.

The priests and priestesses began their work so quickly Joe was beginning to regret his choice of taking the claws. He assumed that with close to a quarter of an hour the curse would be broken with plenty of time to spare. The monstrous paws he had settled for seemed like they were overkill.

Yet the ritual continued. More clerics joined in and those invoking the mercy of Myrrhcee looked more and more determined. Joe realized this was no common spell they were casting but a very elaborate ceremony they were performing. As the ritual proceeded longer and longer, Joe started to sweat. He could feel the sickening coils worming their way through his muscles. Minutes clicked by and Joe was finding it harder and harder not to freak out.

As the last minute started to pass, Joe felt a warmth spring up from deep inside him. It floated from his diaphragm, up into his chest, driving the tainted blood away. When it reached his beating heart, the energy burst outward like an explosion of sunlight. It flooded down his limbs and up through his head. Joe felt like he should be glowing. When the last of the corruption fizzled away at his fingers and toes, the healers of Myrrhcee stopped chanting, wiped their brows, and breathed heavy sighs.

As the clergy was catching their breath, attendants bustled in bearing trays. Glasses of wine, water, and ale were handed out and the robed clerics all drank deeply. A goblet was handed to Joe and a mug to Jink. Joe downed his first one in a single go. It was a rich red spiced wine that warmed him all the way down to his stomach. They drank the next ones a bit more slowly, while they waited for word about Hah’roo and Count Randeau.

“Ok, you have to explain this,” Joe finally asked, not able to rein in his curiosity any longer. “How the hell are you a champion for one of the gods of law? You have to be the shadiest guy I have ever met, and that includes a certain gnomish thief.”

“Given the night you have had, I will let those scurrilous accusations pass without offense. While I admit my mannerisms and methods would not suit the majority of those that follow the straight and narrow path of law, Ekwiti is a different sort of dutiful god than his fellow three. Ekwiti is about Justice, not rules and order. He does not get all caught up in the little things, like diktats and fiats. He cares more about outcomes than procedures.

“When it became apparent that you might need some creativity in your quest mix,” Jink continued between sips of his ale, “Theodonius asked me if I would be willing to lend a hand.”

“Why not just tell me then? I almost didn't go with you from Absinth Abby’s. You were that shady. ”

“The Teller of Fates rewards initiative, sir. I could have held your hand but I felt it was better to give you a shove and see if you had the wherewithal to find your own way from there.”

“But how did we not know you were a party member? None of us saw you on the party screen.”

“Ah, that is due to a useful little skill I picked up in the Grand Oasis of Meddaglam. You would not believe how many secrets you can uncover when those you are with are unaware you are part of their party. You can never have too much information, Master Morris. Intelligence and secrets are the keys to a long and fruitful life.”

“If you say so. I’ll stick with freedom and choice.”

“I can see those being the virtues you would savor,” Jink answered with a smile just as Count Valloc joined them. His arm was in a sling, but other than that he looked quite healthy.

Joe had been afraid he had missed some of the cursed blood and that the Count might have had lycanthropy problems too. He assessed the man’s health and everything looked perfectly fine.

“The healers here said I have you to thank for my arm, young man. They were full of compliments to be exact. The lead cleric kept saying how amazingly well your treatment had been performed. Thanks to your good efforts they had no difficulting finishing the work you began on my arm.” The man flexed the limb and rolled his shoulder.

“They suggested I go easy on it for a few days, hence the sling. The Myrrhceeians were even more astonished to learn you performed your healing in the midst of combat and with only a basic class and spells. I would not be surprised if I were you to find a Myrrhceeian recruiter wishing to have a word with you,” the monster-hunter professed, clapping a hand down to squeeze Joe on the shoulder.

His expression grew serious and he addressed Joe with an earnest voice. “Before they do, I need to hear what happened after I fell. Azbekt is not with us. His death may cloud your trial judgment, so I am afraid you may not be out of the woods quite yet. Talk me through the rest of the encounter, step by step.”

Joe started reiterating the battle from the point where he had begun healing the man’s arm. Jink added details Joe had not seen. It turned out the trickster had witnessed the fight from the beginning. The elf apologized for not being more helpful, stating his skill set was focused on entertainment and espionage. The werewolf's senses were not deceived by his illusions. The illusionist had tried to subtly distract the beast, but the creature ignored each of the elf’s phantasms. Jink had been forced to stay out of sight until he felt he could make a difference. That did not occur until Azbekt’s betrayal.

Joe and Jink also explained how they had visited the diviner the previous night in order to get the ceremony’s location.

It was during this portion of the debriefing that Hah’roo joined them. She clasped hands with the Count and nodded to Jink. Joe got a hug. The dancer made them start over. They went through the tale again from the beginning and finally reached Azbekt’s death. When they were done, Valloc sat back in his chair, looking serious.

“You may be asked to tell this tale again. If so, you must be sure that everything you say is completely factual. The writ should be enough to end the trial and you will have our sworn word that you behaved in an honored and courageous manner. Still, just in case there is further questioning, speak carefully. Phealti may try to dispute the verdict. I would suggest you speak as little as possible. Jink, would you take the lead should Azbekt’s death be questioned.”

“It would be my great honor to do so, Count Randeau. By the time I am done, there will be weeping for this land’s tragic loss of such a valiant dwarven hero and promises of statues to be erected. What are your thoughts on a parade?”

“Jink, seriously,” Joe sighed. “I just want this all behind me. Please do not turn this into a circus.”

The elf looked and saw affirming expressions on the faces of the nobleman and the tracker as well. “Bah. Fine. You lot are no fun at all.”