“This seem right to you?” Sters whispered.

Red lightning tore across the sky and flashed in Hat’s yellow eyes. The bloody peak of Inaltazei pierced the storm. The tempest thrashed her limbs over the land like a wounded kraken.

Hat laughed, hard and unhinged. The sorceress wheeled back, out of breath, and hissed at them to be quiet. Hat only laughed louder until thunder drowned him out. Another tremor ran through their feet, the sharpest yet.

There was a crack above, then a great groan as a brace of stone broke free from the ridge and rained down the mountain. Boulders as big as Sters rolled across the path, just a hundred paces ahead. They froze and listened as the landslide roared down into the valley.

It could have been them just as easily. A great cloud of dust rose, and bitter wind howled down the mountain and scoured them with sand. They visored their eyes in the crooks of their arms and trudged on.

“Dumb question,” Sters admitted.

Sters saw a brief grin beneath the beaten brim of Yellowhat’s namesake. It blew away the moment the climb resumed. The black path was rough going, and the bard lagged hard. Since the fifth obelisk, his skinny legs quavered with every step, and his breath became a labored wheeze.

“Hat, come on,” the sorceress urged, though she was little better herself. El Sha La was pale with strain, and fits of cold rain plastered platinum strands across her face. Sters was certain she used Hat as an excuse to catch her own breath.

“A smoke might steel my nerves,” Hat suggested.

El Sha La seemed on the verge of going along, but Revel called back to them.

“Just leave him! He’s useless.”

Sters scowled up the path, but the shant had a point.

Revel had his armor and his longsword. El Sha La had her magic, Sters had his hook, at least. Yellowhat had nothing more offensive than his aroma.

“Here," Sters offered Yellowhat his knife.

Hat shook his head and, instead, bent down and picked up a pair of plum-sized rocks.

“Hah!” Sters laughed.

“What?” El blinked.

“Look at Hat the Hurler, here. For once, it’ll be someone else getting stoned.”

El Sha La’s eyebrows leapt. She laughed, and then hacked up dust.

“THEY’RE GETTING AWAY!” Revel shouted down. Hat’s eyes darted to him, his throwing arm tensed.

“Soon,” El Sha La promised. They hurried to catch up.

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Even weighed down by a longsword, pack, and field plate, Revel was inexhaustible. Sters could barely keep pace. The nobleman loped forward, heedless of the storm. Sters hated him more by the step. The obelisks swept past, the thunder roared on. The only grace, the path was too taxing to stop and think about what a terrible mistake they were making. At last, they reached the plateau.

Sters leaned on his hook for breath. His eyes leapt from the fangs, tall as masts, to the giant seats of the amphitheater. Above the warped altar, the moon drew near her apex.

“Just a little farther. Drag him if you have to,” El pled. On shaky legs, she chased after Revel, half the arena ahead.

Sters turned and found Hat in a trance. His mouth moved, but no words came out, his eyes miles away.

“Come on, we have to run,” Sters urged. He grabbed Hat by the arm.

“Turn back,” Hat murmured in a voice that was not quite his. His eyes rolled to the whites.

“Would that I could. Come on,” Sters rued. “Come on, we’re almost at the gold.” He yanked Hat rudely forward. The bard went limp, and Sters had to hold him up. Sters cracked him with a slap.

“Wake up! The witch has all your cane! She’s getting away!”

Hat’s eyes flashed wide. He flubbed forward and found his feet. A few paces later, he shook off Sters’ guiding arm. They half-ran across the arena and reached the tunnel entrance. Halfway down, they could see a silver light from El Sha La. Sters pointed to the white letters scratched into the rock.

“What’s that say?”

Hat gasped for breath, doubled over with his hands on his knees.

“All who enter are captured forever,” he translated.

Sters chewed on it for a minute. El Sha La called back to them; her voice was lost in echoes. Thunder rumbled above.

“Last chance,” Sters said. He nodded back the way they’d come.

Yellowhat shook his head.

“Cane,” he explained. He set off down the tunnel.

Stupidly, Sters set after him. They caught up to El Sha La at the end of the tunnel. Revel was ahead in the valley of colossi, staring up at a nude giantess. El Sha La rapped her knuckles on the back of Revel’s helmet and startled him.

“Stop drooling.”

Revel dropped his gaze, his cheeks growing scarlet.

“What are they?” Revel asked.

“The High Ones,” Sters said. “I think that one’s Baeyerilith.” Sters made the sign of the serpent toward a reptilian colossus.

“Don’t say their names!” El Sha La hissed.

“You’re blaspheming to the wrong one anyway, Sters. The lizard-looking one is Yatreyaas. Baeyerilith is the big ape,” Hat corrected.

El Sha La hissed at Hat. The bard held his palms in surrender.

“Are they gods?” Revel asked.

“No such thing. These are demons,” Sters chided Revel like a child.

“They’re Sïthur,” El Sha La said.

“What’s a Sïthur?” Sters asked.

“Demons, more or less.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say that?”

“Same reason I don’t call a cod and a shark just fish. Words matter.”

“So, these are the sharks?”

El Sha La nodded.

“Then, we’re the cod?”

“Cod would be the lesser Sïthur. We’re the herring.”

“We ought to swim off, then.” Sters shook his head.

“Crawl back down the Rakkar on your lonesome if you want, Sters. I’m not leaving without the orb. Move your boots.”

At the end of the valley, they reached the final guardians. Two headless sentinels stood guard on either side, lifting their hands to a great stone eye carved into the mountain face. The grand eye had too many irises, rings within rings.

Before the dark tunnel, Revel drew his sword. Sters clutched his hook. El Sha La summoned a sphere of silver light. They found their courage and pushed inside. Far in the distance, they saw a tiny spark of cerulean.

“That’s them! Let’s go!”

Together, they charged into the Rapaxoris.