Ithan waved cheerily at a few dragonkin that passed him by as he waited at the fountain outside of Briryn’s tavern. He had only been in Greenreach a few days, and though the first day in the city was almost overwhelming for Ithan, he quickly grew comfortable walking the streets and mingling with the dragonkin. Briryn treated him especially well, and in return Ithan helped him out around the tavern. But every so often the innkeeper would step outside of the tavern and gaze out toward the west.

The stories Ithan had heard about Mor’lavan were marvelous—a deer-fox whose ruthlessness in battle was matched only by his kindness everywhere else. The people of Greenreach loved him, and his absence was difficult for many to bear. It was especially so for Briryn, it seemed—the sorrow in the innkeeper’s eyes when Taer’inar told him Mor’lavan was gone had nearly crushed Ithan’s heart. Since then, Briryn had kept Mor’lavan’s room locked with the hope that he would return one day.

“I really did like that kid,” Briryn said once to Taer’inar. “I know I was rough on him when he first came here, but he really grew on me. I wanted him to know he always has a place here.”

“I’m sure he knows,” Taer’inar had said. “And I’m sure you’ll see him again.”

Ithan hoped that was true, for Briryn’s sake.

Today, after resting and resupplying for the past few days, Ithan and his friends would finally set out on their long journey to Meriterre. Though Taer’inar said the route was safe in centuries past, Ithan had no doubt it was now teeming with gnolls and other malevolent creatures. Eleana herself had warned that the gnolls would be hunting them—Ithan was of great interest to the gnolls’ leader, after all, if she had sent such a powerful demon as Kiraan after him. The name alone made Ithan shudder, even though he could not even recall the demon’s face; he only knew it was no more thanks to his friends.

Taer’inar waited beside Ithan at the fountain outside of Briryn’s tavern for the rest of their group, his silver hair catching the morning sun. The others all had their own preparations to make before returning to Myth Veri’Shantar. As they waited, Taer’inar regaled Ithan with stories about his homeland of Nylserine and of his adventures as he journeyed here to Greenreach. By now he had recounted many of his exploits in his younger years and had begun to speak of his first few weeks in Greenreach.

“Apostalite would stand at this fountain every day and preach about Laht,” Taer’inar said. “For the longest time I thought they were trying to start a cult.”

Ithan laughed. He could picture Apostalite standing there next to them as Taer’inar spoke, shouting out to all who could hear about the teachings of Laht. Vague apparitions of the ignan and some dragonkin children filled the space in his mind—Apostalite was telling the children a story. The story of a boy trapped in a dark cave, trying to escape from a horrible monster. Had they told him that story on their journey to the mage tower? The apparitions faded away as Ithan shook away the disorientation that came with his scattered memories.

Soon Dhurik emerged from the tavern. He carried some light leather under one arm and a large satchel under the other. He brought everything over to the fountain and rested it on the stone edge. The minotaur towered over Ithan by nearly two feet, a wall of powerful muscle, fur, and—sometimes—fire.

“Didn’t have much left in the way of leather,” Dhurik said, “but I managed to cobble something together.”

He lifted up the chest piece and held it before Ithan. Dhurik claimed himself to be a master leatherworker, but for some reason he had only made part of the left half of the armor and then fastened straps to it.

“How is this meant to protect me?” Ithan asked as he took the chest piece and inspected it, running his fingers along the stitching and the metal bits.

“Better than nothing,” Dhurik grunted. “I’ll get you into something sturdier when I get my hands on more materials.”

“Can’t we get them here?” Ithan started to put the armor on, tucking his arm through the sleeve and wrapping the leather across his torso.

“The stuff they’ve got around here isn’t meant for armor,” Dhurik replied. “Best I can do with it is another shirt. Not very useful.”

“I guess not,” Ithan muttered.

He tightened and secured the straps on his lower right side. The chest piece was quite comfortable, with a surprising amount of padding on the interior. Ithan thought the padding would make the armor bulky, but it was wonderfully light and hugged his form. He could easily wear another layer of clothing over it without it looking too obvious. He stood tall and grinned at Taer’inar.

“It looks good on you,” Taer’inar said. “Still, I think you’re missing something.”

“The rest of the armor,” Ithan joked.

“Besides that,” Taer’inar replied flatly. He detached the scabbard on his left hip containing one of his scimitars and presented it to Ithan. “You need a weapon.”

“But you always fight with two swords,” Ithan said.

“I can get by with only one for now,” Taer’inar replied. “It might not be ideal, but you need to be able to defend yourself.”

Ithan grinned with glee as Taer’inar placed the sheathed sword in his hands. Taer’inar’s twin blades were things of beauty, augmented by the warrior’s elegant movements in battle. Ithan was honored to have been bestowed with one of them. He fastened the scabbard to his hip in the same fashion as Taer’inar and walked a bit away from the fountain. There he unsheathed the scimitar and began practicing strikes against the air with the blade. An arcing swing here, a thrust there—he pictured each of his enemies falling before him as he cut them down.

“Perhaps you would like to spar against a real opponent?” Taer’inar asked. He stepped toward Ithan, pulled out his other scimitar and flourished it.

“Sure—”

A surge of alarm jolted through Ithan as Taer'inar pointed his blade toward him, and he stumbled backward, falling to the ground.

“Are you all right?” Taer’inar asked as he pulled Ithan up with his free hand. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Y-yeah, I’m okay,” Ithan said, brushing the dirt off his clothes. “I… I just lost my balance. I’m ready.”

Taer’inar hesitated, observing Ithan with a curious look of concern.

“What?” Ithan asked.

“Nothing,” Taer’inar replied. “Let’s begin.”

The two sparred for a few minutes, and it was quickly apparent to Ithan that dueling with a real weapon was far different from using tree branches. The weight of the sword had more control of Ithan’s movement than he anticipated, and so he found he needed to put more of his strength into each strike to match Taer’inar’s speed.

“Focus on the preciseness of your strikes,” Taer’inar said. “Raw power means nothing if you cannot hit your target.”

“Should’ve gone with a bigger weapon!” Dhurik laughed.

After some time, Ithan backed away from Taer’inar, holding out his free hand in surrender.

“This still feels off,” he said. “Like I should be doing something with my other hand.”

“You can hold your sword with both hands to put more power into your attacks,” Taer’inar said, “or you can carry a shield for added protection. You may also find it useful to have a free hand to cast magic. You just have to find a style that works for you.”

“Magic… right,” Ithan muttered. Since coming to Greenreach, he had made frustratingly slow progress on his magical abilities, struggling to reproduce the simplest spells. His first breakthrough had been while sparring with Taer’inar only a few days ago, when he teleported behind his friend in a flash of light and caught him off guard. Try as he might, Ithan could not figure out how he had achieved that feat, even under Bimpnottin’s tutelage.

“It’ll come to you,” Taer’inar said.

Ithan’s other friends soon began to emerge from the inn. First came Irse, her golden hair glowing in the sunlight. Bimpnottin joined them soon thereafter, his oversized hat shielding his pallid skin from the bright morning sun. Fenvyre would be along any moment now; she had been running errands for Briryn since early in the morning, and the group could not leave for Meriterre without her.

“Taer’inar Volarei?” a gruff voice called. Ithan turned to follow the voice; three dragonkin soldiers had emerged from one of the side streets approaching the group. The middle one—a tall dragonkin woman standing head and shoulders above the other two, scars etched across her face and a few missing scales—glared down at Taer’inar. Her companions stood on either side of her with stern expressions. One glanced at Ithan, and he quickly sheathed his sword and returned to the group.

“Yes, that would be me,” Taer’inar replied.

“You are the listed contact for the guild known as The Averion Company.”

“Yes.”

“I am General Esthu,” she said. “I will get straight to the point: your return to Greenreach was not reported by my guards. How is it that you have returned without passing through the western gate? It is the only passage between Greenreach and the wilds.”

“Oh. That…” Taer’inar bit his lower lip.

“There is a teleportation circle in the basement of the tavern,” Irse said. Taer’inar gawked at her, but she continued on. “We found another circle in the wilds that brought us here.”

“That circle still works?” Esthu questioned. “Show me.”

“Certainly,” Irse said. “We will be departing again soon. Perhaps you would like to see it in action.”

“Perhaps I would,” Esthu said. “And where is the enforcement unit that set out with you?”

“Unit 17 was slain in the wilds,” Irse said. “Past the Black Gate in the region of Zastraria.”

“Is that so?” Esthu said. “And why did you fail to report this upon your return to Greenreach?”

“We’ve been recovering,” Taer’inar said. “I hadn’t had time—”

“And you were about to set out into the wilds again,” Esthu said. “Evading the authorities?”

“No, of course not!” Taer’inar said as he waved his hands in front of him. “It truly did just slip my mind. I would of course be happy to complete the report right away.”

“I will need a full report of the events leading up to Unit 17’s demise,” Esthu said. She snapped her fingers, and the dragonkin to her left produced a quill and parchment and handed it to her.

“Oh. Here? Right now?” The dragonkin simply nodded as she wrote, and Taer’inar turned his head toward the group briefly. Dhurik huffed and sat on the edge of the fountain, hunched over and rested his head on one hand. “Well then. We set out on an escort request from the ignan Apostalite. They sought a tower located in the region of Zastraria. We traversed past the Black Gate and through the mist beyond and found the tower, but we were beset by hobgoblins. Some of us were captured and that is where Unit 17 was slain.”

“So the hobgoblins are responsible for Unit 17’s death,” Esthu said, looking up from her notes. “How did you escape?”

“We negotiated our freedom with the hobgoblins.”

Esthu narrowed her eyes at the elf.

“Hobgoblins are not known for their diplomacy,” she said.

“No,” Taer’inar said, “but our own Bimpnottin Bafflestone—”

“That’s me!” Bimpnottin shouted.

Taer’inar and Esthu both glared at the gnome.

“…Bimpnottin was able to persuade them to free us in exchange for our services dealing with a horde of gnolls. We did so and returned to the tower. It had collapsed during our fight against the gnolls, but Apostalite was nowhere to be found. We laid Unit 17 to rest properly there.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“You had the opportunity to retrieve the body but did not,” Esthu said. “That is all I need to know on that subject for now.”

She turned to Ithan; her stature was intimidating enough, but to have her gaze on him… it made him want to flee.

“You were not listed in the guild charter.”

“We found him in the wilds,” Irse said. “In a forest beyond the mist.”

“You did not mention a forest,” Esthu growled, her eyes still trained on Ithan.

“Oh, I was quite sure I had,” Taer’inar replied. “I truly am sorry for that. Yes, we found Ithan here in the forest beyond the mist, and from there we traveled to the tower.”

The dragonkin glared at Ithan for a moment more before she grunted and rolled up her parchment.

“I have recorded the reason for the enforcement unit’s disappearance,” she said, “but I still expect a complete formal written report, including the whereabouts of the halfling Ian Wheathill and the…”

“Deer-fox,” one of her underlings said.

“Right,” she said. “The whereabouts of the halfling Ian Wheathill and the deer-fox Mor’lavan.”

“I suppose I could provide that within a couple of hours,” Taer’inar said.

“In addition, you are expected to fulfill your obligation to The Kingdom Below before any further excursions in the wilds.”

Taer’inar squinted at Esthu.

“We do have other obligations,” he argued.

“As a guild under the authority of the Seal, your obligations to the empire are of the highest priority,” Esthu growled. “Should you abandon your obligation, you will be treated as traitors to the empire.”

“That’s quite extreme!” Bimpnottin said.

“That is the emperor’s will,” Esthu replied. “Now then, you will need an escort. Excuse us a moment.”

She gestured at her subordinates and the three of them stepped away from the group. Esthu muttered to them out of earshot, and Ithan and his friends began to do the same.

“I suppose we will be here for a while longer,” Irse said to Taer’inar.

“I should have guessed this would happen,” Taer’inar groaned. “I’m sorry, Ithan.”

“It’s fine,” Ithan replied. “I like it here.”

Taer’inar smiled warmly at him.

“What are we listening to her for, anyway?” Dhurik muttered. “We’ve got that teleportation circle thing, right?”

“It would only cause problems for us later if we just leave,” Taer’inar said.

“Briryn may also be caught up in things,” Irse added. “I do not wish for him to be punished for our insubordination.”

“Fine,” Dhurik huffed.

Esthu approached the group again with only one of her soldiers. It was hard for Ithan to tell, but the soldier seemed to be quite a bit younger than Esthu, perhaps around Fenvyre’s age.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Esthu said to Huzen as she leered at Ithan and Taer’inar. “Especially around those ones. Elves are tricky creatures.”

“Understood, General,” the soldier said.

“Huzen here will accompany you to the mines in Unit 17’s stead,” Esthu said to the group. “I expect a full report upon your return, and it had better be consistent with Huzen’s.”

“I assure you we will leave nothing out,” Irse replied. With that, Esthu marched away with the other soldier back toward the east.

“Do you have a title or…?” Taer’inar asked Huzen.

“Just Huzen’s fine. Never cared much for rank. I’m just doing my duty.”

“Well, let’s get on with it,” Dhurik said as he began to saunter away.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Fen?” Ithan asked.

The minotaur lifted his head up and let out a loud groan but stopped and turned to face Ithan.

“She’s not gonna want to go,” he said. “Trust me.”

“I would wait anyway,” Taer’inar said. “I will stay here and write the report on our previous activities. Just be careful. You remember what happened last time.”

Dhurik nodded at the elf, who clapped a hand on Ithan’s shoulder before walking away and disappearing back into the tavern.

“Excellent!” Bimpnottin shouted. “Everything is in place! Now we await the return of—ah, there she is!”

Ithan turned around to see Fenvyre jogging past a few other nearby dragonkin, her emerald scales clashing against their crimson.

“Sorry I’m late,” Fenvyre said as she reached the group. “Oh, hi, Huzen! I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Got transferred,” Huzen grinned. “I’m acting as General Esthu’s… well, we’ll say I’m her liaison for now.”

“That’s great! I’ll have to show you Sonys’s new place.” She looked around the group. “Hey, where’s Taer?”

“He got chewed him out for not following the rules,” Dhurik said. “He’s writing a report. We’re going to Rockfall.”

“Oh.” Fenvyre’s smile wavered.

“You gonna stay behind again?” Dhurik asked.

Fenvyre tensed up and held her arms across her chest. Her demeanor had quickly shifted from cheerful to anxious.

“I’ll go. I have to practice.”

“Excellent!” Bimpnottin said. “Then let us embark! Lead the way, Dhurik!”

The minotaur obliged, stepping past the group and marching toward the western gate.

“Are you okay?” Ithan asked Fenvyre as they began to follow Dhurik.

“Yeah,” Fenvyre replied. “I’ll be fine.”

The group soon reached the western gate of Greenreach. After a brief salute from Huzen to the guards stationed there, they continued behind Dhurik along the dirt path that led into the wilds.

“The general, she’s got some… opinions,” Huzen said as the group journeyed on.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Ithan said suddenly, jolting at his own voice as the words reached Huzen. He was certain the soldier would punish him for speaking ill of his superior. But to his relief, Huzen simply chuckled.

“Heh. Yeah, I guess it is. Sorry about that. For what it’s worth, I don’t think elves are all that bad. Not any worse than dragonkin, anyway. We’ve all got our faults.”

“Your wisdom belies your age,” Irse said.

“Thanks. I like to keep an open mind.”

After a while, Dhurik turned off the path and led the group into the mountains. Soon they came to what looked to be the remains of a camp; fallen tents and cookware littered the area. Dragonkin soldiers were stationed at various points throughout the camp; some stood by conversing with each other while others walked through the camp cleaning up the mess left behind by whoever lived here last.

“Hey, who took down my stakes?” Dhurik growled.

“Those were yours?” one of the soldiers said. “We thought they’d done it to their own. At any rate, we can’t have those unsightly things littering the path.”

“Well, what did you do with them?” Dhurik asked.

“We disposed of them,” the soldier said.

“Disposed of them where? I worked hard to put those things up, you know.”

“Just get over it,” Fenvyre said, marching away further down the path.

“You—ah, whatever,” Dhurik said. “I’ll just put up more later.”

The group followed Dhurik past the camp and further into the lower mountains. By now the sun was high in the sky, but it was just beginning its descent. Ithan was invigorated by its warmth; there were few trees to obscure the sunlight here. Soon the group arrived at the entrance to the mines, guarded by two more soldiers.

“Afternoon, Huzen,” one said. “These the folks the general told us about?”

“Yes they are,” Huzen repleid. “I think I’ll join them inside, if that’s all right with you.”

“Sounds good,” the other soldier said. “Tano and her squad have secured the areas previously reported as safe. Just call for backup if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Huzen said. He nodded at Dhurik, and the minotaur led them inside. It took a few moments for Ithan’s eyes to adjust from the sunlight to the darkness of the cave, but when they had, he was greeted with a dried pool of blood in the center of the cave where they now stood.

“Whose is that…?” Ithan asked.

“Birdbrain’s,” Dhurik said. “Frost sprites got ‘im. Exploded into a hundred ice knives and cut him right open—”

“You can save the vivid description,” Irse groaned. “I think we have heard enough.”

The minotaur grumbled but did not speak again. He instead motioned for the group to travel down the corridor to a hole in the floor. There was a rope hanging down into the hole; Dhurik dropped his torch down, and when it reached the bottom, he began to descend the rope. The others followed one by one, with Ithan going just before Huzen.

Now they were in another open area, with two tunnels on the far side. The soldiers here were hard at work moving one of the several headless corpses that were strewn about. The corpses’ heads, to Ithan’s dismay, were mounted on stakes nearby. One of the stakes had two heads mounted on it.

“Hey there, Tano. Have you had any trouble down here?” Huzen asked the taller soldier.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” she replied. “The reports said the tunnels ahead might still be hazardous, though, so we haven’t gone any further. We’ll wait for the all-clear from you.”

“Got it,” Huzen said. He nodded again to Dhurik.

“Don’t touch my stakes,” Dhurik grumbled at Tano as he strode past. The soldiers looked at each other, then at Huzen. Huzen simply shrugged.

Dhurik made it to the other end and looked down both tunnels—first to the right, then to the left.

“Nothin’ in here, so let’s keep going.”

He walked into the tunnel on the left, and the group hurried to follow him. Cold air filled the tunnel, being sucked further in to the mines. The tunnel went on for a while until it opened up into a cavernous area. Rails lay on the ground and split off in several places into more tunnels.

“We’ll want to do a full search,” Huzen said. “Let’s spread out to cover more ground, but give a shout the moment you run into any trouble.”

“There is nothing here,” Irse said. “It is just cold.”

“Yeah, that’s what Birdbrain said before,” Dhurik said. “But there’s gotta be something here to chop up.”

Splotches of brown covered the walls of the mine in some places. Ithan moved closer to investigate one as his friends continued their search for any creatures lurking in the tunnels. The temperature dropped as he approached the clump, and just as he leaned forward to get a better look at it, spores suddenly erupted out of it. Ithan reeled back in surprise and gasped, inhaling the spores in the process. He fell to the ground, coughing and wheezing as Huzen helped him up and away from the cloud of spores.

“What happened?” Huzen asked.

“The brown spots,” Ithan coughed. “Don’t go near them.”

“Hmm…” Fenvyre craned her neck, trying to inspect the growth through the lingering spores without getting too close. “It kind of looks like what Briryn uses to keep things cold in the pantry. It’s a kind of fungus, I think.”

“There’s mold in the tavern?” Huzen asked. “That’s highly unsanitary.”

“It’s not harmful in small amounts and if handled carefully,” Fenvyre said. “But if left unchecked…”

“It could result in disastrous consequences,” Bimpnottin said. “We need to keep away from this mold until we can figure out how to be rid of it.”

“I know how to get rid of it,” Dhurik grunted. He strode forward into the cloud of spores again.

“Dhurik, don’t—” Fenvyre cried.

Her warning came too late. Dhurik unleashed a wave of heat, bringing a brief relief to the biting cold. But it just as quickly dissipated, the mold absorbing it and leaving the area frigid once more. Worse, the mold began to spread rapidly, growing over the walls and floors around it. Dhurik sped out of the spores before the mold could reach him, and the group retreated closer to the entrance of the mine.

“Well, that didn’t work,” Dhurik coughed.

“It feeds on warmth,” Fenvyre said. “Any kind of heat you throw at it will just make it grow faster.”

Dhurik growled in frustration. Ithan, meanwhile, had an idea—if this fungus needed warmth to survive, then surely exposing it to cold would have the opposite effect. But there was cold air all around them; how was it able to survive in the mines under such conditions? Maybe a cold environment was not enough.

“Do you know any freezing spells, Bimpnottin?” Ithan asked through another coughing fit.

“Why of course, my boy!” Bimpnottin shouted. “I am the greatest wizard in the world, after all! But why would you want to make it any colder in here?”

“Not for us,” Ithan said. “Cast it at the mold.”

The gnome tilted his head to one side and squinted his eyes at Ithan, but a moment later he perked his head up.

“Genius!” Bimpnottin said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I think some of my brilliance has begun to rub off on you!”

“Just get on with it,” Irse scowled.

Bimpnottin obliged, reciting an incantation and conjuring a shard of ice in the air. He then thrust his hand forward toward one of the enlarged growths, and the shard flew past the group and pierced through it. Moments later, the fungus shriveled and turned to dust.

“It worked!” Fenvyre shouted. “Good thinking, Ithan.”

“I think the general mistakes ‘tricky’ for clever,” Huzen said, grinning at Ithan. “Nice work.”

“Bah,” Bimpnottin grunted. “I could have thought of it.”

“Sure you could’ve, Captain,” Dhurik said. “Dogboy just beat you to it.”

Bimpnottin scowled, but only briefly. Ithan smiled, proud that he had bested the great wizard Bimpnottin Bafflestone.

“This may take a while,” Bimpnottin said as he looked about the cavern. “I am the only one among us who can cast such magic. Incredible as I am, there is only one of me.”

“Shouldn’t we get these guys checked out?” Huzen asked as he inspected Ithan.

“I think I’m okay now,” Ithan said. “I’m not coughing anymore, and Dhurik breathed in less than me.”

“They should be fine as long as they don’t go near the mold again,” Fenvyre said.

“All right then,” Huzen said, “but I really think we should have Aitos take a look at them when we get back.”

“Agreed,” Irse said.

“You take care of the mold, Captain,” Dhurik said. “I’ll take care of anything else that shows up.”

“A fine arrangement,” Bimpnottin said as he conjured another ice shard and hurled it at another cluster of mold.

It was indeed a slow process; Bimpnottin needed to ensure that he had eliminated every speck of mold before the group could proceed further into the mine. The only thing Ithan and his other companions could do was point out spots that the wizard had missed. Even Irse, a practiced mage herself, could not produce ice with her magic. Alas for Dhurik, the group encountered no hostile creatures here. No creatures of any sort, really—the mold must have made this place entirely inhospitable.

The caverns grew warmer—relatively speaking, at least—as Bimpnottin continued clearing out the mold, and the feeling of air being sucked away slowly dissipated. The mold seemed to have been mostly concentrated in the main area, but the group took great pains to carefully inspect each of the branches of the mines. They were not extensive, luckily; Huzen mentioned that the dragonkin and dwarves had not been here terribly long before they had to evacuate. Finally, after a few hours, Bimpnottin stood tall in triumph as the last of the mold froze and disintegrated.

“The deed is done!” Bimpnottin said. “Rockfall is clear of all hazards thanks to me, the great Bimpnottin Bafflestone!”

“Settle down,” Huzen said. “We’ve still got the other end to deal with.”

“We already took care of that last time we were here,” Dhurik said. “Just a pond with some rocks in it. Nothing exciting.”

“We should check on it anyway,” Huzen said. “It’s been a while since you last came here, hasn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” Dhurik huffed.

“I think Huzen’s right,” Ithan said. “Our job’s not done until we’ve looked over everything, right?”

Huzen nodded.

“I wouldn’t feel right sending folks back here without checking it out,” the soldier added.

Dhurik groaned and led the group back out of the mines proper and through to the other tunnel. It opened into another cavern. As Dhurik had said, there was a pool of water here, littered with large stones that one could hop across to the other side. At the far end was a set of intricately carved stone doors. Ithan’s head swirled as he gazed at them, echoing their golden trim. Flickers of light danced above the group, but they vanished when Ithan tried to look directly at them. They did not reflect in the water, either. There was something down there, moving, waiting.

“Stay here,” Irse said.

She hopped over the stones across the water and to the other side. For a while she inspected the doors while Ithan and the others waited for her. Ithan’s heart raced as he watched the water ripple. Then he was suddenly yanked away from the pool by Dhurik—he had been unknowingly inching toward it, and Dhurik had kept him from falling in.

“Almost lost you there, Dogboy,” Dhurik said. “Can’t have that.”

His mouth did not move when he spoke. Ithan’s head began to throb. This place was playing tricks on him; or perhaps it was the spores from the mold.

“It is a ward,” Irse called. “Nothing should be able to get through it without divine magic.”

“Like yours,” Huzen said. “Go on and open them.”

“No,” Irse said. “Whatever lies beyond is not to be trifled with.”

“You’re supposed to make sure the mines are safe, right?” Huzen asked. “That includes whatever’s behind those doors. So do it.”

Irse’s eyes went cold as she glared past Ithan at the dragonkin.

“I will not.”

Huzen sighed.

“I didn’t want it to come to this.”

Ithan was pulled backward again, hardly able to process what was happening as Huzen wrapped one arm tight around him.

“What—”

Ithan’s breath caught in his throat as something cold pressed up against it.

“What are you doing?!” Fenvyre cried.

“Open the doors,” Huzen snarled. “Now.”