(Tom Beryl)

Tom Beryl was an elite scout. He had received his training back home in the Shadow Lands before the invasion of the Nature Kingdom. They called him the Ghost. Nine years ago, he had infiltrated Lord Tepi’s keep, snuck into the War Room, and memorized the defenses for Stoneridge. His daring incursion had greatly helped with the capture of the legendary fortress. To this day, no one knew how he had done it. He moved like smoke in the shadows.

Tom grimaced at the loud sounds behind him. He was leading a small party of Shadowcloaks toward the city of Pike, while keeping close to the Lonely River. Their objective was to gather information on the enemy’s forces in the area. There had been various reports of movement around Pike, but nothing definitive. Of the four people assigned to him, only Lina Peridot was worth her stones. Both Rink and Drood had rudimentary skills, but the fourth member was a complete disaster. Pavé Geode could not infiltrate an abandoned barn with an open door and a cobblestone path leading directly to it. If he was not the nephew of the commander’s wife, Tom would have gotten rid of him.

Just yesterday, Pavé had been briefly left alone at camp and the idiot had started a fire in the open. Tom had smelled the smoke and rushed back to the camp. He had found Pavé warming his hands near the fire. The buffoon was oblivious to the risk of starting a fire so deep in the enemy’s territory. That bungling greenhorn was bound to get him killed, or worse, captured. He would have been better off going alone on the mission. He had been on edge ever since the fire fiasco.

Since the incident, he had the uneasy feeling that someone had been following them. There was a fox that briefly appeared at dusk that looked suspicious. The animal had come too close to their campsite. His instincts warned him of danger and just like his mama had always told him, he trusted that feeling. The spider-sense was in his bloodline. He had gotten it from his mama, the ringleader of the Immortal Syndicate, the legendary Black Widow herself.

Unfortunately, a few days earlier Pavé had broken their only pair of enchanted goggles, an essential tool for detecting shifters. He had almost strangled him then and there.

Tom winced as another twig snapped under Pavé’s foot. He saw Lina glare at the bonehead, who remained oblivious.

The hairs on his neck rose. He had a tingling sensation that something was not right. He froze and held up a fist, indicating that the party should stop. Next to him, Lina crouched and slowly drew her daggers. They scanned the sparse trees around them. He narrowed his eyes as a red squirrel bolted up a tree and dove into a hollow.

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Tom looked up and saw a Snapwing Falcon dive toward them. The bird shifted into a boy and landed on the ground with a thud. Tom snatched up his blade and let it fly. His obsidian dirk whistled through the air. The weapon stopped a few feet away from the boy and it stayed suspended in midair.

“Scraps, that’s a wicked blade!” The boy looked impressed. “I can’t wait to show it to my brother.”

Tom heard shouts of alarm and turned around. Everyone except Lina was slowly sinking into the ground. Lina had vaulted to one side and was trying to flank the boy. She did not get far. Dirt rose and encased her legs. All five of them were immobilized in the blink of an eye.

I hate casters.

There was something familiar about this boy. The shaggy hair, the facial features, and his age… He groaned. They were facing the Triple Threat, the prodigy who had won the Spirit Competition.

“You’re being detained for spying on the Nature Kingdom. My friends will be here to pick you up shortly. I’ll loosen the dirt around your feet, but if you try to escape, I’ll sink you so low that only your head will show.”

The boy used Lightning Strike to set a log aflame and Levitated it above the tree canopy. Next, he examined Tom’s dagger and placed it inside his bag. He rummaged through the enchanted sack and pulled out a book. Tom read the title of the book. It was The Art of Summoning by Hale Beckons.

The boy frowned. “Ever since Rita Volto lost control of her Sprite at the Spirit Competition, summoning makes me a bit nervous.”

Tom was not sure who the boy was talking to, but he was happy to let him blabber. He needed to consider their options.

“Since then, I’ve been determined to learn more about the summoning spells,” the boy continued chattily. “Did you know that you need at least ten Shadow casters to summon a dragon? The ritual for summoning one of those beasts from the Underworld is fascinating. Well, I’m not sure if dragons come from the Underworld, or if such a place actually exists.”

The boy kept on yammering until Lina finally snapped at him, “For Cea’Nia’s sake, I became a scout because I like the quiet. Shut it!”

Lina sank deeper into the ground. “Noooo… I was just kidding. Chat away! Tell me more about the summoning rituals, I’m dying to know.” She exhaled deeply as she stopped sinking.

Tom Beryl realized the futility of attempting to escape from their current predicament. They were trapped… for the moment. This was the time to watch the enemy and wait for him to make a mistake. The kid had done a partial eye transformation, which allowed him to read his book and guard them at the same time.

He tried to gather some information from the boy. The youngster was happy to talk but did not disclose anything relevant.

Tom heard the approaching riders long before they arrived.

“What do we have here?” The rider vaulted off his horse. “William has planted more scouts in our fields. We’ve got enough weeds as it is.” Laughter broke out behind him.

“Looks like you skulkers are knee-deep in trouble,” another rider chimed in, and there was more laughter.

“Dal, secure the captives,” someone ordered.

Tom and his team were tied up and tossed into a tumbrel. Tom glared at Pavé. The entire disaster was his fault. The Ghost had never been captured until today.