“Fang, what do you know about the Black monks?” Shadow drew her horse reins slightly and waited for Fang to catch up. Hawk led their group instead.

The road climbed up, and the miniature fortress of Grinderhammers was already looming atop the hill, but there was enough time left for a question that was bothering Shadow’s mind.

“Not very much,” Fang shrugged.

“You’ve mentioned they have something to do with your clan?”

“Yeah… as you know, my father is crazy about the magical creatures. He even tamed a couple of twin hounds. When the black monks appeared a few years ago also searching for rare creatures, they hit it off immediately.”

“So, it’s not the first time they’ve come?”

“No. It was a few times. Father gave them permission to travel around the Grass Reach. A few times, they went to the mountains together with him. Searched there for things like stone pangos or hiding dazzlers. Never heard, though, that they traveled so far south.”

Shadow paused, thinking.

“Do they hunt creatures themselves?” asked Hawk in disbelief.

“Of course. They know how to find and kill them, sometimes even better than our rangers.”

“I can’t imagine that fat old guy with a body like a huge lumplroot going on a hunt.”

“And he doesn’t. Others do. That guy, Viraz, is one of their elders, by the way.”

“So, they are searching for rare magical creatures…” continued Hawk with a sarcastic smile flashing on his face. “This explains things a bit. I was almost ready to believe they are interested in educating people.”

“Of course, they are looking for a gain too.”

“But why do they need magical creatures?”

“They get potion ingredients from them and keep some in captivity. I don’t know much more about it, guys, really.”

“Magic again… did you ever see them doing anything supernatural?”

“No.”

The conversation began to feel like an interrogation, and Shadow said:

“Thanks, Fang. This, indeed, explains things a bit, but not entirely. Heart of the Ridge is the best place to search for rare creatures but also one of the most dangerous. So they must have a good reason to be here.”

“They should’ve come first to Windwarden and gotten our permission to travel around,” Hawk said. “A letter from the Mockingbird clan is not sufficient here.”

“Yes,” Shadow nodded, “this is my thought too. At least we could tell them which places are safe to visit and which are not, but they seem too confident… By the way, the potions they make are real, Hawk. The effect was almost instant when they cured me of the stone poison.”

“I heard about that antidote,” Fang nodded. “Monks make it from the stone pengo's saliva.”

“Gross!” Star shrugged.

The Grinderhammers’ residence drew near, and they saw Molle and other vards finishing the wall construction. The conversation died out.

“What da you need today? Brought more troubles with you?”

Vards weren’t happy to see the wardens. The famous smith and his sons looked noticeably worried.

Shadow stopped her horse next to the smith but didn’t dismount.

“A moon wolf attacked the village tonight,” said she, looking at Molle from above and trying to keep herself calm and official. ”You must’ve heard about that.”

The ride energized her, making Shadow finally feel awake.

“Sure. Who didn’t?” said Molle while peering at the wound on her cheek.”They say you almost got yourself killed, fair lady.”

“Just a scratch. I taught it a better lesson in return. The creature must’ve died of the wound, but others of his kin can be around.”

Molle measured Shadow with his eyes as if searching for other injuries. Then his small black eyes again drilled into her head.

“Do you know what we vards say? If you dig deep, you'll find your gold, but if you dig too deep, you'll find yourself under the rubble.”

“And what is this supposed to mean?”

“Rubble means trouble. And there were no problems here before you came to Surram Dahla.”

“Several villagers disappeared not so long ago—how this is not a problem?”

“You speak about the family of that woman? She was mad. Didn’t folks in the village explain that? Stupid and old. Wandering around like a ghost… it’s her fault she ended like this!“ Molle’s face reddened from not-so-well-hidden anger.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Shadow’s horse quivered, sensing his emotions.

“I must ensure that no dangerous creatures are hiding in the hills around the village,” said Shadow coldly. “I learned that some moon wolves were seen nearby the mines.”

It’s not exactly true, but I can’t simply tell him what she whispered it to me before dying. This idiot will only laugh at me.

“Ar… What?!” Molle became stunned for a second before exploding: “No way! That’s impossible!” he waved his arms vigorously. ”Me lads go there every day and haven’t seen a single wolf, neither moon nor regular! Who told you that nonsense?”

“One of the locals.”

Squinting one eye, Molle again stared at the wound on Shadow’s cheek. “It was she—the crazy old hag?” he spat on the ground in disgust.

“What if?”

“Well…” Molle breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down. ”Then now listen to what I have to tell you. She was not simply mad; she was obsessed with daemons!”

Obsessed with daemons? Shadow thought, dazed. What is this supposed to mean? A few moments ago, she started to feel her self-confidence building up, but now it was shuttered quickly.

”She was one of those bizarre folks of the Valley God cult,” continued Molle with disdain. ” Insane people—all of them. She and her husband and all the rest! They got themselves under the rubble with their rituals and stuff!”

“Wait! What is the Valley God cult?”

“Argh! Sons of the lizard—” Molle extorted a long vardish swearing. ”Why shall I know? In the days before, folks here honored only the Sun god. Now, they believe in some spirit protecting the valley. When we returned here, they were already doing this nonsense. If you stay for a couple more days, you will see them going down the river at night to commit their rituals. What the hell do they expect? Wandering like this… Of course, someone got killed! But you better ask the punshur about it. He knows everything!”

The surprise quickly turned into a wave of anger. Shadow felt a hot burst, pushing her heart out of her chest. This bastard! I knew he hid something! she clenched into the horse's reins. Something strange happened to her vision—the world lost its colors for a split second, then she blinked, and everything returned to normal.

“Go to the punshur and ask him,” repeated Molle. ”Ask him why they are doing it at night. Ask him why they must torture their cattle there every damn week!”

“What the…” Hawk swore too.

“Where is it this ‘there’ where they go?” Shadow interrupted.

“I told you: down the river! If you pass the farms and go along the bank, you’ll see their caves there. My folks don’t follow them.”

“And what exactly do they do there?”

“Speak to the punshur—he knows!”

What shall I do? I’m not a ball to them to throw one to another—

Shadow glanced at Hawk, looking for his support, but he was surprised no less. And while everyone was speechless, Fang touched his horse with the heels to make her come closer to the conversation.

“It looks like this armed mob of villagers has plenty of scapegoats for all their needs,” he said grimly.

Shadow shook her head slowly as she decided she mustn't distract.

“Regardless of this cult matter, we must first check the mines and the hills around.”

“What armed mob?” Molle Grinderhammer nervously stroked his beard and looked at wardens with suspicion. His sons huddled behind him, listening carefully.

“They are gathering at the headman’s house and preparing for a wolf hunt,” explained Fang. “The day is half-gone, but the evening is the best time for hunting moon creatures: they become active but not yet transformed. If the villagers don't start today, then tomorrow morning, for sure.”

“I told the punshur: there are no wolves around our mines… alright, listen, maybe it’s good that you are here. Yes, friends, we must go to the mines. You must see one thing we’ve got there—”

That was quite a striking change in his attitude.

“One thing?” Shadow drawled.

“Listen… don’t hold any grudge against me for what I said… It’s just that everything gets worse and worse every hour after you’ve arrived… but it’s my fault also. I should've told you about it from the beginning.”

“Told about what?”

“That’s complicated, but we will solve it. Our clans were always good together. I’ll show you—seeing is better than any words. Let's go.”

“We aren't going anywhere until you explain what this means!”

Shadow has utterly forgotten her desire to control the conversation, left with only one hope: to understand what is happening in this village.

“Alright, well… listen,” Molle ruffled his neat beard vigorously, ”as I said, we found something valuable under the rocks when we returned here. Something magical.”

“Magical?”

“Yes. It was my brother. He returned to Surram Dahla a couple of years ago and saw the stones and flowers growing in the caves of our old hideout. Yes, it’s in the hideout, not in the mines itself. There are caves there, too, plenty of caves around. It would be best if you saw it. It’s amazing. It looks magical, but it’s real.”

Molle’s eyes began to glow with excitement.

“Flowers and stones?”

“Yes, it’s very serious and could benefit both of our clans. It’s underground, so we have the right to mine it! By law. By the tsar’s decree! The right is ours. But we are not greedy; we are ready to share. Others, they could be greedy, yes, and they want to take everything for themselves. We are not like them. And your clan also. The Crismon Alder is the most honorable of all teheni clans!”

Shadow looked at him in disbelief, struggling with two controversial desires: either give a solid kick to the damn vard and make him speak clearly, or give herself a good slap to ensure she was not sleeping after all. She resisted both. Getting a better explanation from Molle turned out to be impossible, and it became apparent that seeing everything with her eyes was the quickest path to understanding. Soon the four wardens were riding behind Molle, who mounted a grey pony and led them uphill. The procession was accompanied by his sons and other vards of the Grinderhamers clan, armed with hammers and axes.

This time Fang kept up with others and stayed close to Shadow.

“It’s as you asked, Hawk. They are going to show us some magic.”

“That’s not funny, Fang,” Hawk frowned.

“Yes, that’s worrying. Many people in this godforsaken place speak gibberish. It seems they are all possessed or sort of.”

“And that’s not funny either.”

The path rolled over the hill and descended to the north, away from Surram Dahla. The valley down was much more dry and cold, and snow-capped mountains now looked at the riders from afar.

“The new quarry is over there,” said Molle pointing at a small wooden tower and a group of huts scattered around it. “But we need to go a bit downhill. To the old mines and the hideout—the things are there.”

After a short ride, the path led them to the gates of the newly-built wooden palisade. Wardens dismounted, entrusting the horses to Molle's sons.

“Alright, listen,” said Molle when they approached an entrance carved in stone and closed by large, rusty metal doors. ”What you are going to see could be hard to believe. We didn’t believe it ourselves when we first saw it, but it’s real. As I said, my brother found it first. Very few people in the village know because the place was blocked. And locals don’t go here, they are afraid. The punshur knows, of course, and the Valley God folks too. They have the same things in the cave where they do their rituals. But it’s our right to prospect the earth. Alright. No more talking. Let’s go and see.”

The gates let out a long, cold howl when several vards opened them using long metal levers. Then, with lamps and a few torches, Shadow and others followed Molle to the dark underbelly of the mountain.