1.
It was a cold wind streaking through the reeds and Diana's teeth began to chatter. Godammit, she thought; don't say anything -- don't bring any attention to us.
The wind, they'd discovered, acted as a herald, swinging through the twisted trees and bringing the wraiths, bringing the wolves.
"I've got an idea," Eric said, shivering. "How's about we turn around and get out of this ridiculous place?"
"Cram it, Eric," Bobby muttered.
"The village should be just over this crest, guys," Hank said, peering over the bushes and through the darkness of the trees.
"Village of idiots," Eric said. "Who lives in a place like this?"
"He's got a point, Hank," Diana said, turning to look through the gloom at him. "No telling what kind of nuts we'll find."
Hank didn't reply. Beside him Shiela whimpered, wrapped up in her cloak. The disease was spreading, Diana could see that, and it was hard to take her eyes off the black lines creeping up Shiela's skin. This was very, very bad. Mossroot, they called it. Killed skin cells, then worked its way in. Delicious.
"Anyone..." Shiela said, raspy voiced, looking hurt. "See anyone, Hank?"
Anyone. What she really meant was if Hank saw any wraiths, any wolves, any of the dark things that haunted Gloamvale.
"Hey, guys," Eric said. "Any minute now I'm going to go nuts and make a break for it, 'kay? Anything gets me, you'll know if they're out there."
"Anything that shuts you up, Eric," Presto said, rubbing his arms.
"I'll go first," Hank said. "You guys stay behind me, all right? I'll go first and-- just stay close. Anything happens to me -- you make a break for it."
Shiela turned, trying to get up, but instead she went into a coughing fit. Diana reached her first, picking her up, come on, girl, come on -- couldn't Shiela have waited until they were somewhere safe before getting sick?
A beam of light -- from the side -- oh Christ, not him again -- and rubble sprayed into the air. Diana crouched, dropping Shiela, reaching for her javelin; a blur to her right -- Hank flying through the air -- oh God, was he okay?
And then Eric was in front of her, his eyes wide with terror, as beam of light after beam of light blew against his shield and spun away into the forest. Diana could see him -- Jace the Hunter -- dressed in white, pale cape fluttering in the darkness, his axe performing the same role as a laser rifle.
The Hunter's voice echoed through the forest: "Run, little prey, run."
One foot danced off a rock; the other danced off Eric's shoulder, and the forest turned to a blur. Diana landed in front of the bounty hunter, crooked her staff between his feet and wrenched.
No good-- Jace sidestepped and fought her back, his axe crashing against her javelin -- good god, was he ever strong -- until her foot went through the ground up to her knee.
"Don't move," he boomed, reaching out a hand to steady her. "This is bad bog."
Jace seemed uncertain, not moving. He was helmeted, but as his masked face twisted around to look at the ground, Diana realized that any movement would crumble more of the floor away.
Jace laughed. "I don't even dare sweep off your head. Any movement and--"
"Stay away from her!" Bobby screamed, charging them, swinging his club.
"No boy!" Jace shouted. "Don't-!"
Bobby struck the ground to get the necessary charge for the club's power, and a shockwave rushed out, leveling the forest floor.
Jace turned to look at Diana. "Nice company you keep--"
And then gravity took over, and she tumbled into darkness with the rest of them.
2.
"Oog," Presto said. "Did anyone get the number of whatever hit us?"
The haze of consciousness brought temporary amnesia: Where were they? Diana'd long since gave up hope of suddenly waking up and being home again. Still, it'd be nice if she opened her eyes and found herself cradled in the palm of some lush tropical grass.
Memory: Gloamvale, Shiela's disease, and Venger's newest bounty hunter. She sprang to the balls of her feet, leaning forward, jungle cat, reaching for her javelin. At the thought of imminent action, of imminent movement and taut athletic danger, a grin almost came to her face. "Where is he?" she said, looking around.
They were lying in a cave, far below the surface of the forest. Above was the hole they'd made, and blue moonlight crept down, dust glittering through the luminance. Glowing red and yellow rocks sprang from the side of the rock, lighting the place up.
The others-! She ran to each one, picking their battered bodies up. Shiela still lay on the ground, but she was breathing, which was a good sign, sort of.
Hank wasn't saying anything -- of course he wouldn't; he hid distress when he could, but she saw it in his eyes -- if they didn't get to the village in time, Shiela would get worse, and Hank would rot in hell before he let her die.
"Hey," she said, grabbing his arm. "It'll be okay."
"Thanks," he said.
"Yeah, right," Eric said, wiping dust off his armour. "It'll be okay. We're thirty feet down in a cave and above us is the Forest of Death. We're doing just fine, aren't we, Presto?"
Presto was inspecting the glowing gems on the walls. "Weird rocks, guys."
"Hey!" Bobby shouted, looking around. "Where's that Hunter guy? I wanted to smash his face in!"
Uni, padding up beside him, muttered an agreement. Diana wondered, not for the first time, what kind of insecurities the unicorn had, needing to be near to Bobby all the time, needing to play to his side. But Bobby was right -- Jace was nowhere to be found.
"We're not done yet," Hank said, putting on his leader face. "I'll shoot an arrow up to the top, we'll climb up, we'll get there."
"Where the heck's DM, anyways?" Eric said, kicking a rock. "Old coot's always around when we don't need him."
Presto touched one of the glowing gems, and a light shot from it out to another gem, and then another. Diana turned and watched a spiderweb of light fly out over the rock walls.
"Oh, what'd ya do, Presto?!" Bobby asked.
"Nothing!" Presto protested, falling back, staring at the blazing beams shooting up to the ceiling.
Then: silence. The light flew off and didn't come back. How weird, Diana thought; that had to have done something.
A rickety contraption came flying down the cave tunnel and braked in front of them, two cylinders blasting out smoke. A tiny gnome face peered at them from behind massive goggles. "In distress, folks?"
"Gnomes," Eric said. "Under Gloamvale. In go-carts. Wonderful."
"In distress?" Diana said. "Yeah, you could say that."
"Well," the gnome said. "I can take yas as far as Underton, but that's as far as she gets."
"Anywhere," Presto said, solemnly, "is better than here."
3.
As the disease crawled up her neck, Shiela felt rain splash against her face. Rain against a window, sunlight coming in through the glass.
There was a softness to her bed, in that light, the way it could play on Hank, if he was sitting on it, the sun trailing over his skin like over water. He could glitter, sun on his hair like dew on a bough.
"Hank," she said.
Cosmos, the weight against her skin, his warmth. Driving her against her bed.
"Hank."
"I'm here, Shee."
As reality fell in, she turned and gazed up at a gnome, who smiled back at her in the dark light of the room.
"There," the gnome said. "That should do it. Mossroot's a nasty thing. Best be careful in the future."
Behind the gnome, firelight against his skin, was Hank. Was he smiling there, in the gloom? He looked bright.
"I don't want to be here," Shiela said, clapping her palms to her eyes, burning coming to her palms. "I want to go home. I want to go home."
She wished she hadn't said that, because, for a moment, Hank seemed to wilt like a flower, crushed against his own weight. He seemed to prop himself up, puff himself back out, and, with an effort, he said, "Soon. We'll go home soon."
Fatigue welled up, and darkness closed in on her, and she hoped that dreams would come and take her back to the rain and the window and her bedroom.
4.
Underton buzzed in a haze of clockwork and neon. Diana spun on her stool in front of the noodle shack, the steam from her shrimp soup almost obscuring the bustle of machines clacking over the cobblestone. Beside her, Bobby beamed from over a plate of fried something, the shifting neon lights turning his face red, yellow and green.
"This is the life," Eric said, emerging from a blast of steam shooting up from a vent, Presto in tow. "Civilization! I missed it!"
"Hank not back from the doctor's?" Diana asked.
"Eh, he'll be a while," Eric said, sitting himself down in front of the shack. He peered over at the gnome behind it. "Chicken noodle, my good man!"
"They said Shiela needs to rest for a bit," Presto said, shrugging. "I'm just glad she's okay, I guess."
And Hank's going to stay by her side, Diana thought, smiling; isn't she the Disney princess.
"I bet there're tailors here," Eric said. "I could get new threads."
"I should get a hat," Diana mused. "A big wide-brimmed musketeer hat. With a feather."
"I'd like a new hat," Presto muttered.
"I wonder how much trouble a guy could get up to in my a place like this?" Eric said, leaning back.
"More than you can imagine, Cavalier," a voice said.
Eric closed his eyes. "Oh, and just when I thought things were looking up."
"Dungeonmaster!" Bobby exclaimed, wide-eyed and surprised, which gave Diana doubts as to Bobby's capacity for pattern recognition.
Dungeonmaster stepped out from behind the noodle shack and smiled at them. "Underton is a fine city, yes, but there are dangers lurking."
"Yeah, a real tough town," Eric said. "I wonder if there's a stock market. Could play the numbers, get rich."
"Underton needs our help, Dungeonmaster?" Diana asked.
"Oh yes, Acrobat, very much so. Venger's influence is not far from here and his hold on this city grows tighter and tighter. Your intervention, I should think, will help matters greatly."
"Yeah, what's the Macguffin this time, old DM, old buddy?" Eric asked, peering over. "A dark crystal? Mystic sword? Tome of magic?"
"You will find friendship where it is unexpected," DM said, "and you will see enemies where enemies are hidden. Open your heart and the locks will open."
Eric narrowed his eyes. "Manipulative little sh-"
"He's gone!" Bobby shrieked.
And, indeed, he had.
"Jesus," Eric said, turning around on his stool and getting a bowl of chicken soup.