The High Chamberlain paced before us, hands clasped behind his back. Excitement was evident in his voice.

“Then if I understand you correctly, Akasur and his rakshasa confederates have been working out the slums, where they commit murder on Palomir’s orders and sell stolen items in their shop.”

“Right,” Wystane said. “We killed three of them, but not Akasur and his senior minions. They’re traveling north to attack a mage expedition to Zhulla.”

“How did Akasur find out about the expedition?” the chamberlain asked.

“Palomir contacted them,” Wystane said. “We don’t know how Palomir found out, but he must have contacts in the city.”

“Do we know when they left?” he asked.

“Around midday,” I replied.

The chamberlain stopped pacing and took a deep breath.

“Then there isn’t a moment to be lost. You five need to head to Zhulla as quickly as possible. I’ll make sure the royal stables prepare the fastest coach we have. Is there anything else you need?”

“More potions of See Invisible,” Bolan said. “Without those, we’re fighting blind.”

“I could use more bolts.” I added. “Fire, acid, poison, whatever you have.”

⚔

Within the hour, the five of us waited in a coach while a squad of royal grooms bustled about. The coach’s stallions were outfitted with horseshoes of speed and enchanted barding that provided both armor and warmth. The wooden wheels were coated with a mixture that protected them from the dangerous roads to the north.

My crossbow was stored atop the coach, just behind the driver and the two guards in chainmail. The guards were under orders to question any group of travelers headed north.

A half-elf in a green-and-gold tunic opened the coach door. It took me a moment to recognize Segrel, the chamberlain’s assistant.

“I bring supplies from the chamberlain, who wishes you the utmost success.”

Segrel reached into a trunk and held up two flasks, one with translucent green fluid and one with dark blue.

“First, potions of See Invisible and Swiftness. The chamberlain asks that you wait to drink them until just before combat.”

“Next,” Segrel continued, “which one of you wields a crossbow?”

I raised my hand. Segrel looked at me for a moment, and his mouth fell open. Despite my coachman’s armor, he’d recognized me as the man who’d joined him in slaying werewolves in the castle. To preserve the Surgeons’ anonymity, I couldn’t acknowledge who I was, but I smiled.

Segrel handed me three cases of bolts. “The chamberlain wishes you happy hunting.”

According to my character sheet, the first case contained twenty +2 bolts of fire, the second contained twenty +2 bolts of acid, and the third contained twenty +2 silver bolts.

After Segrel left, I opened the three cases and ran my fingers over the bolts. They were beautiful, and I carefully inserted them into the empty pockets of my bandoliers.

“You seem happy,” Wystane projected.

“I am,” I replied. “I feel sorry for Akasur and his friends.”

Moments later, the coach door opened, and an elven woman joined us inside. She wore a white robe with a pearl broach, and her long, blonde hair had become a disheveled mess.

“I’ve never been so mistreated.” The elf was on the verge of tears. “I was teaching a class at the Temple of Theris, and now I’ve been thrust into some bizarre mission. Yet instead of traveling with warriors, I’m surrounded by servants. Madness.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “If you’re a coachman, shouldn’t you be driving the coach?”

“Our uniforms are disguises,” Wystane said. “We’re on our way to fight a serious threat to Encelas, and we’re grateful to have you with us. What class were you teaching?”

“Combat support sorcery. I teach spells that enhance abilities and protect warriors during battle.”

“Then you’re in the right place,” Bolan said. “I’m sure your assistance will prove invaluable.”

The real coachman shouted to the horses and cracked his whip. Wheels turned as the horses trotted forward. When we left the royal stables, the effect of the enchantments became evident.

The priestess gasped and gripped the side of the coach with white knuckles. “By the mercy of Theris, I’ve never heard of a coach moving so quickly!”

“Our adversary has the advantage of time,” Wystane said coolly. “So we need to pursue them with the utmost speed.”

“Madness,” the priestess whispered.

⚔

As we left Encelas, the coach tore along the road at an incredible pace. Finally, the priestess loosened her grip and sat back. She turned to Wystane.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“If our adversary is so dangerous, why recruit me instead of a combat mage? I can’t shoot fireballs or bolts of lightning.”

“We’re fighting demons who are immune to spells,” Wystane said. “This forces us to rely on blades and crossbow bolts.”

“Demons immune to spells? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“They’re called rakshasas,” Wystane said, “and in addition to being unaffected by spells, they can turn invisible and take the shape of other humanoids.”

The priestess’s eyes went wide. “That’s… incredible. Well, I can help you, but to be honest, I’ve only been in combat twice.”

“I’m sure you’ll do the Temple of Theris proud,” Wystane said.

“Why are the rakshasas traveling north?”

“They seek to attack mages from the Enclave, who are travelling to investigate a temple in Zhulla.”

“Oh, I heard about that!” The priestess clapped her hands together. “The temple is supposed to be taller than the Attlem Mountains, and it’s covered with writing that no one can decipher. Isn’t that exciting?”

“It certainly is. And in a short time, you’ll see it yourself,” Wystane said.

As we proceeded north, I thought about what the priestess had said. If the writing on the temple was indecipherable to the mages, it might be comprehensible to me. And that meant it might have something to do with the Medallion of Darnok.

There wasn’t a lot of traffic, and only a few travelers were headed in our direction. We passed individuals on horseback and slow-moving merchant caravans, but nothing that looked like it could transport Palomir and a handful of demons. But after twenty more minutes of travel, a guard cried out.

“You there! Halt in the name of the king!”

I looked out and spotted another coach heading north. I couldn’t recognize the driver, but he raised his hand and slowed the coach to a halt.

The priestess turned to Wystane. “If these demons can change shape, how will we know when we find them?”

Our coach came to a stop. The two guards approached the second coach, keeping their hands close to the hilts of their broadswords. I couldn’t hear what they said, but they appeared to be having a polite conversation.

Wystane sighed. “There’s… someone traveling with the rakshasas who isn’t a demon. I didn’t want to mention his name because it might alarm you.”

Just then, the two guards stepped back and drew their swords. A loud, angry snarl erupted from the second coach—a snarl we’d heard several times before.

“There he is,” I said.

“We found them,” Wystane projected. “Drink your potions, then focus on Palomir.”

⚔

I climbed to the top of the coach, loaded a silver bolt into my crossbow, and surveyed the melee. One guard had fallen, and Palomir stood over his body in his werewolf form, snarling with obvious joy. He struck the remaining guard with a backhand slash, throwing him to the ground. The rakshasas, like the Surgeons, were hurrying out of their coach and preparing to fight.

Palomir was moving too quickly for me to get a good shot, but I fired anyway, and the bolt went wide. Then the werewolf leapt and landed near Wystane. I fired before the beast could strike, and this time the bolt entered his neck. Palomir fell to the ground, his body taking the form of a dark-haired elf.

I took a deep breath and smiled. It had been so easy. Just one shot and Palomir was down.

Wystane glanced at me, eyebrows raised, and projected her thoughts. “Well done. Now focus on their leader.”

Akasur wasn’t hard to find. While the other demons wore dark grey tunics, Akasur wore two medallions over a violet robe, and looked exactly like the portrait from Oddities and Curios. He stood about sixty feet away, casting spells and shouting orders to his brothers.

I loaded a bolt of fire and aimed the green dot at the sorcerer’s robe. But before I could fire, Akasur pointed at me. A football-sized rock struck me in the chest, throwing me off the coach and onto the ground below. My health dropped to 19.

As I lay gasping, I thought about drinking a healing potion or waiting for my stamina to return. But there wasn’t time. I got to my feet and retrieved my crossbow.

Now Akasur was surrounded by a magical shield that looked like a green upside-down fishbowl. It dimmed when I struck it with a bolt of fire, but only barely.

I looked at the other rakshasas, who had all grown to be at least eight feet tall. They were locked in hand-to-hand combat with the Surgeons, each of whom glowed with a blue light. The priestess must have cast a protection spell, because one of the rakshasa landed a dagger blow on Dannik’s side, yet she barely seemed to notice.

“Now I’ll cast Haste!” The priestess called out. “You’ll be able to move and strike faster, but it only lasts for a couple minutes.”

The Surgeons started moving in a blur, as though someone had just pressed a fast-forward button during a movie. I couldn’t get an open shot on the rakshasas, so I went back to firing at Akasur. I found myself able to aim and shoot much faster, and I struck his magic shield with several bolts of fire.

After the sixth bolt, the shield began to flicker. I started firing bolts of acid, and the shield finally vanished, giving me a clear shot at the rakshasa leader. My next bolt pierced his shoulder, and he glared at me with fury. He waved his hand, and six harpies appeared in a puff of smoke. The flying demons cackled with glee, and four of them flew at the Surgeons, while the other two came at me.

“Now I’ll cast Mirror Image!” The priestess shouted.

Three duplicates of me appeared, all mimicking my movements. Two stood in front, while the other was at my side. While the harpies attacked my duplicates, I loaded a bolt of fire and shot at Akasur. My first bolt missed, but the second struck him in the hip.

I caught a brief glance of Akasur’s robe on fire, and then I turned to fight the harpies. The first slashed at my chest but couldn’t pierce the Surgeon’s armor. The second clawed at my neck, wounding me and lowering my health 13. Shouting in pain, I raised my crossbow to fire, but the first demon hurled a magic missile that knocked me to the ground. My health fell to 6.

“The next spell is Statue Form!” The priestess called out. “You’ll move slowly, but you can’t be wounded by regular weapons.”

I threw aside the crossbow and got to my feet. Thanks to the priestess’s spell, I felt like I was wearing armor made of stone slabs. Ignoring the harpies’ claws, I punched one in the face, and she flew back as though I’d hit her with a baseball bat.

The second harpy howled and clawed at me, but I took her neck with my left hand and landed two direct punches with my right. The first knocked her unconscious, and the second caused her health to drop to zero. +1,600 XP!

I unsheathed my dagger as the first harpy flew toward me, promising a painful death. I threw my blade and struck her between the eyes. While she was disoriented, I landed a punch to the upper side of her head. The howling stopped, and she fell to the ground. +1,600 XP! I pointed at the body, and the dagger flew back to my hand.

The other Surgeons had beaten their harpies as well as the rakshasa. The only enemy left was Akasur, his robes still aflame. The Statue Form spell was in effect, so the five of us stomped toward him like golems. Before the rakshasa could cast a spell, we hurled our daggers. All of them hit the mark, and Akasur fell with five blades in his chest. +1,100 XP!

The Statue Form spell wore off moments later, and I fell to my knees. I was wounded and exhausted, but it didn’t matter. We’d won.

“Well done, Priestess!” Wystane shouted. “We couldn’t have beaten them without you.”

But the elf didn’t seem to notice. She was kneeling over a body and weeping. At first, I thought one of the Surgeons had fallen, but then I saw why she was crying.

“Oh, Palomir!” the priestess cried. “What happened? What did they do to you?”

“Wait!” I shouted. “Don’t touch him!”

Either she didn’t hear me, or she didn’t care. The priestess of Theris pulled my bolt out of Palomir’s neck and tossed it aside. Palomir sat upright, caressed the priestess’s face… and then snapped her neck with a twist of his hand.