Killing the mimic had been more frustrating than difficult. For hours, I'd lead us through the maze of walkways, the Sleeping Man's ring slipping on and off my finger. I'd used the ring's power to zap through physical gates with planar ones, chasing the chest shaped creature as it swung around the room faster than we could follow.
All the while I'd held one hand on my waistband, despite the rope that held them up, Valen's spare linen pants the only item of clothing on hand big enough to replace my temporarily stolen leathers. Aribeth had dared to stage-whisper to Deekin her suspicion that I'd been trying to get into the tiefling's pants this entire time. The bard had thought it hysterical and even Valen had chuckled.
If only she knew how hard I'd been trying in recent days not to do exactly that! I'd barely been able to meet Valen's eye at her comment
Once safely on the other side of the room — the mimic's scorched remains the main fuel for our fire — a shrivelled old hand had crawled from the ashes, startling even me, before it had crawled into my pack, dormant and waiting. Aribeth had immediately retrieved it.
"It must have been what the mimic had been using to grapple to and from the ceiling," she mused.
She was turning the clawed hand over much to Valen's and my disgust before she placed it back in my pack for safekeeping.
"Careful with that thing," Valen warned me. "It reeks of baatezu."
We set up our bedrolls and slept for what remained of the too-short night, determined that next time we would just take the risk of single watch shifts rather than risk exhaustion. My sleep had been too short to enjoy, despite the warmth, and I'd woken more than once to the sounds of Aribeth pacing, my senses on high alert after my previous rude awakening.
However, my restlessness was nothing in comparison to whatever nightmare Valen was currently experiencing — his face contorted in pain and his fists clenched in his blanket. He'd woken both Deekin and me with his tossing, and — as we shared a knuckle of bread — none of us glanced his way, least of all spoke of it. Aribeth jolted in surprise as Valen tossed to his side with a snarl.
At first, I'd been too fearful to wake him, simply hoping that the noises of us eating would be enough. But, when it became apparent that the dream held him too strongly, I risked a gentle hand on his shoulder. My stance was tense and ready as I whispered his name.
I needn't have been concerned.
He startled in surprise at my touch, hand snaking up to grab my wrist in his own as eyes snapped open. They darted around us before finally landing on me. Despite his surprise, his touch was gentle, and his eyes took only a moment to shift from an angry red to his now-familiar almost-blue.
He didn't immediately release his hold on me, and I saw his eyes shift to take in my defensive stance, face dropping in hurt. He released my wrist slowly, a small sigh escaping his lips as he threw aside his blanket.
I tried to smile, telling him that it was time to get a move on, before pulling away and preparing myself as much as I could for another cold day of travel. My eyes had remained resolutely everywhere but on the tiefling, as he rolled up his bed in silence.
We had no way of knowing how far it was to the Knower of Places; The Sleeping Man's estimation of a couple of days questionable, given his ability of flight. We only had enough berries, healing potions and Firewater for a couple of weeks, and it was weighing heavily on us all. I'd done my best to keep an eye out for the telltale leaves of the velox bush peeking through the snow, but had found none beyond the city's walls — the wastes of Cania too cold for even the hardy native plant.
Without a word — everyone already all too aware of the dangers that lay ahead — I placed the ring on my finger.
We stepped through the portal hand-in-hand, the cold blasting us as soon as we were through and everything red turning impossibly white, the only bright colour the magical path ahead, which ran directly through the river of lava.
The portal snapped out of existence, and I took off the ring, taking in our new surroundings silently.
"Wonderful," Valen mused.
He walked in a circle, taking in the molten river. It surrounded us on all sides. Deekin scratched his head with a confused frown.
Worrying at my lip, I pulled out the shrivelled hand with distaste, barely touching its dried skin with my thumb and forefinger. I held it as far away from me as possible, dropping it on the floor in front of us with a solid thunk. As it touched the cold snow, it clenched into a tight fist.
"Shit, that's gross," I hissed, before looking around at my companions. "Anyone want to go first?"
Aribeth had begrudgingly offered up the first attempt at using the magical hand's grappling abilities, holding the bone that protruded from the wrist's stump with a grimace. She pointed it to the other side of the river and — after only a moment of uncertainty, as we all waited for it to do something — it reached out in a flash of red.
She was pulled along after it with a cry of surprise.
On the other side, she fell to her knees with a gasp, the hand still and dormant by her side.
It took longer than I would have expected for the paladin to collect herself.
Once she was ready to try again, she came back; grabbing Deekin in her arms and doing it all over. Her next time back to us she didn't look quite so sickly, and she pressed herself to Valen's side. He took the clawed hand from her and used it to cross together. Taking a moment to grab his bearings, he came back a final time for me.
We both blushed as I pressed myself to him, his arms wrapping nervously around my shoulders as he held me tight. He was as warm as I remembered, even out here.
I tucked my face against his chest, both to avoid the view and to hide my reddening cheeks, and held on for dear life. As the world fell away — my stomach left behind — I quickly forgot to be self-conscious of how close we were.
When we landed, I doubled-over, retching in the snow; cheeks blushing darker with embarrassment.
Some hours later, we came across the first signs of old ruins, lead there by the ring. We climbed through the remains of the almost entirely reclaimed town, blindly following the red glowing path.
When we could walk no more, we scattered three velox berries over what remained of a felled beam — the timber damp and rotten with age. It was easy enough to light despite the harsh winds, and we all huddled around it in an attempt to stave off the cold, eating our meagre dinner in silence. Before assigning shifts, Valen built a wall of snow with Aribeth — parallel to the remaining half-wall of stone — the barrier helping divert some of the freezing wind.
We barely spoke before settling down for the night.
When I woke the next morning, I was surprised to find my back pressed up against Valen's own, only our blankets between us. My teeth had been chattering, body shaking and my hands clenched firmly between my thighs in an attempt to keep them from dropping off. But my back? That had been blissfully warm.
I'd been mortified at first, but felt a little better when I noticed Deekin had curled up, after his shift, at Valen's feet — his blanket tucked up almost entirely over his head — just as intent on stealing the tiefling's warmth as I had apparently been.
The following night I didn't have the excuse of sleep. When my watch was finally over, I pushed my back up against Valen's own after only a moment of hesitation, immediately thankful for his warmth.
I felt him stiffen for a couple of seconds, before he shifted slightly, his tail curling into a more comfortable position between us.
Thankfully, he didn't say anything.
I closed my eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire and the steady thrum of Aribeth's whetstone on her sword. I was almost asleep, when — barely a few minutes later — my breath caught as Valen reached behind him, pulling his blanket further across so that it covered both of us. His breath on my neck sent a shiver through me, as he adjusted the two blankets.
My heart thumped so loudly that I'm sure he must have heard it before he'd settled back down with a tired sigh. He didn't say anything about it the following day, retreating further into his thoughts as we continued our relentless march across the almost completely barren wastes.
The day saw us drinking more of the Firewater than any of the past as the wastes grew colder, and the once easy conversation was all but dead in an attempt to preserve energy.
The only thing worse than the neverending cold was the impossibly bland boringness of slogging through one white expanse of snow and the next, each planar gate leading us into another area that looked just as bland as the last.
The monotony of the day was probably why I was so damn surprised when one such portal led us right into a cave alight with the flames of a controlled fire.
Five faces peered at us in surprise over the flames.
"Oh, fuck," I swore as I suddenly realised where we were. And who we were dealing with.
If we looked a sight, the group in front of us was weirder still.
This is going to be a variable salad of flavours, Enserric mused from his place on my back. My fingers twitched to draw him.
Around the fire stood an intimidating mismatch of people. Of them was an undead lich — bare-boned face frozen in a permanent smile. A monstrous minotaur — the first of his kind that I'd ever laid eyes on, horns and tusks stained yellow with age. A dwarf with impossibly thick arms — head and body shaved and dressed in the style of a monk with a chain of bones around his neck. A slight human woman with an eyepatch as dark as her close-cropped hair— her pale body more ink than skin. And a hulking human man — shaved head tattooed with long winding stripes of red, heavy plate armour designed similarly to Aribeth's own. They all had the unhealthy pallor of spirits, their bodies fading in and out of focus.
The apparent leader of the fearsome group — the sturdy dwarven man — circled around the fire, watching us all with cold dead eyes.
Valen growled low in his throat, hand on his weapon, and — close by his side — Deekin had already drawn his crossbow, eyes darting between myself and the group.
Aribeth gasped in surprise, frozen in place.
"I recognise this spirit!" she hissed to me in warning. "Grimgnaw; he helped save Neverwinter." Her eyes searched the group, wide and fearful. "…and Maugrim! What are you doing here?"
Grimgnaw crossed his arms over his barrel of a chest, an eyebrow raised as he considered all of us. His eyes landed and held on Valen, lips pulling up in a sinister smile.
The armour plated man, Maugrim, threw his head back, laughing cruelly. He stepped away from the fire.
"Aribeth!" he said in greeting. "Our paths cross once again. You will be relieved to know that I no longer follow Morag and the Old Ones." His smile was crooked, his teeth yellow with rot. "We have much loftier ambitions." He held his hands wide, motioning to his companions.
"With Mephistopeheled gone, there's a void that must be filled." Grimgnaw mused, voice a low rumble. "This plane of hell needs someone to rule it."
I took a steadying step back, planting my feet.
"We're just passing through." I paused, clearing my throat, raspy with disuse, before raising it louder. "Do what you want with the hells. We won't stop you."
I felt Aribeth bristle by my side, face hard and set.
I sighed. Well, she might.
Grimgnaw slowly shook his head, rolling his shoulders. "No. Word of your presence has already reached us, even here." He shrugged. "We're afraid we cannot simply let this opportunity to remove you from the equation pass us by." He tilted his head, eyes holding my own. "I'm sure you understand?"
Too late I realised that the woman from earlier was no longer by the fire, and I cried out as her blade found purchase in my side. I twisted away, my automatic reflexes the only reason the blade didn't sink into my spine.
I pushed through the pain as the room erupted into chaos all around us, drawing Enserric sluggishly.
I smelt the acidic stench of arcane spells and felt the heat of Aribeth's god as she channelled his cleansing power through her, light bearing down on our enemies. And I heard the bestial roar of Valen; the sound more demonic than human.
One hand clutched to my side and the other on my sword, I spun in a circle, searching desperately for the woman.
I suddenly realised, with no small amount of surprise, that — without little Deekin looking out for me — my companions would have been using the last charge of our resurrection rod on me, right then and there.
With a surprised gasp, the assassin fell from the shadows beside me, her blade raised to strike. Deekin's dark bolt stuck from her forehead, a small trail of blood dripping from the fatal wound. She fell to the floor in a heap, and — with no time to second-guess myself — I charged ahead to help Valen.
The tiefling was engaged with the monk, the shorter of who was peppering his armour with small jabs of his glowing hands.
Each hit found purchase, a darting of movement almost too fast for me to follow. Valen should have been on the defensive, but he wasn't thinking; swinging his flail again and again, pushing through the pain, his mind only on the kill.
A jab in his side, and Valen spluttered through a roar, doubling over himself.
I attempted to cleave Grimgnaw's head from his shoulders, but he easily ducked below the attack — expecting it — and pushed closer to the tiefling, face set in concentration.
The flail wasn't right for the fight, the reach wrong for the monk's fighting style, and with each hit Valen took, he swung his weapon that little bit slower.
Another jab and Valen's armour shifted, the overlapping plates of metal catching and holding, his movement suddenly limited. A sweep of his feet, and he was scrambling for purchase, tail flung out for balance. Another hit to his side and his hands slackened between one swing of his flail and the next, the heavy weapon falling between them with a clang.
Eyes wide, I attempted a swing at the dwarf's exposed side. My attack — whilst too slow to catch the impossibly quick monk off guard — forced Grimgnaw to retreat.
Valen snarled through the rage and pain, my interference all the distraction that he needed.
He lunged at the dwarf, head lowered into the tackle. His horns caught the monk in the chin in a splash of blood. The bastard was quick, but when Valen straightened, even he wasn't quick enough to pull himself loose.
I grimaced in pain as the dwarf's jaw was ripped right from his face with a horrible wet ripping sound — cutting his scream off as the blood splashed across Valen's snarling face. Without pause, the tiefling pulled the flailing monk loose, tossing him aside with barely any effort. The dwarf skidded for a moment, before hitting the nearby wall. Valen tossed something at him, which I realised with a roiling stomach was the monk's missing jaw.
I moved to finish him off, but Deekin was already on it; peppering the still twitching body with two bolts shot in quick succession. The kobold quickly returned his attention back to the remaining minotaur, who Aribeth was currently baiting.
She circled the great hulking beast, sword raised and on the defence. Between them, she held up a glowing hand, her god's overwhelming power evening the odds.
I gulped at the sight, dropping Enserric and drawing my bow in one practised motion.
No way I was getting near that thing!
The minotaur swung its great axe in a downward swipe. Aribeth sidestepped in a surprising shoe of speed, before swinging her own sword down on his fingers. He roared, pulling one of his hands away in pain as he lifted the weapon sloppily with the other.
I lined up my shot but didn't get far, crying out in surprise as my side lit up in pain. I pressed a hand to my side, dropping the arrow and biting my cheek.
The minotaur took another swing at Aribeth.
I hissed, forcing myself to pull my blood-slicked hand away and drawing another arrow. This time I was ready for the pain, but I still couldn't draw my bow to its full potential.
I was dimly aware of Valen beside me as he reached down, pulling one of the destroyed plates of his armour lose with a snarl. I glanced at him as he twisted his body, testing his returned mobility.
Blood stained his face, the whites around his red pupils as stark as his feral smile.
He didn't bother reclaiming his flail, charging towards the minotaur with a roar.
I swore, releasing my half-drawn arrow and catching the minotaur in the chest. The arrow held, causing the creature to roar in frustration, but it didn't sink as deep as it should have.
I didn't get the opportunity to fire again, as Valen got right in the way of any potential shot from Deekin or I. The battle rage wasn't anything new, but the carelessness wasn't like him at all.
"Shit!" I threw my bow aside, drawing a knife and reaching for Enserric.
Valen flung himself at the minotaur's weapon, grabbing hold and launching himself off the chest of the far bigger creature. He ripped the axe from the enemy's grip, giving Aribeth all the opening she needed.
Cool and in control of every movement, the paladin stabbed her sword through the bare chest of the mighty beast, striking true.
He gasped, a great snorting thing, before falling forward just as Aribeth let go. She stepped back, immediately sweeping the room with narrowed eyes. The minotaur didn't move.
Only once she was sure our enemies were all dead, did she allow her exhaustion to show in the dropping of her shoulders.
I was quick to follow, landing heavily on my knees as I struggled to assess the damage to my side.
"Boss!"
Deekin skidded to me, an open potion already in his little clawed hands as he pushed it to my face. I spluttered in surprise, before taking it off of him, drinking greedily.
The effects of healing potions always surprised me in their speed.
I breathed through the pain, Deekin holding me upright as Aribeth busied herself heaving the great hairy body of the minotaur onto its side. She drew her weapon free with a grim shake of her head.
Valen hadn't moved, his shoulders hunched and body shaking with each heaving breath. His back was all we could see of him as he collected himself.
Aribeth kept her distance from the tiefling, and — once her sword was by her side once more — she stooped to collect his flail, before coming to mine and Deekin's side. With steely eyes, she assessed me, smiling gently.
I worried at my lips as the seconds ticked by into minutes, with still no movement from him.
Aribeth distracted me by laying her hand on my forehead, fingers neither warm nor cold, and her touch featherlight. She closed her eyes, muttering a prayer, and I felt the last of the burning in my side disappear with a wave of comforting warmth.
I looked back over at Valen at his sudden movement, to see he was wiping his face with the palm of his hands, tail flicking behind him once more. His face was still smeared with red when he turned to us, his armour a mess of broken parts, and his hand clasped lightly to his side as he searched the room for something.
His eyes eventually landed on the three of us, and I saw his shoulders relax, eyes a hazy mix of blue and red.
"Is everyone alright?" He asked, voice a low growl.
His eyes landed on me and held, eyes drifting to my side and widening at the blood he saw.
"We're okay. I'm okay," I assured him with a flat smile. "Are you?" I asked him carefully, searching his armour and trying to assess the full extent of the damage.
He nodded once, belied a moment later as he moved to approach us and paused, grimacing in pain. He didn't need any convincing to finish off one of his potions.
"It would be best if we stayed here tonight," he told us, already removing more of his damaged armour's plating.
We all agreed, Valen and Aribeth attending to their armour and weapons as Deekin and I had the grisly task of removing everything of value from the bodies. We piled the five of them in a small alcove with Valen's help, as far from the fire as possible, before settling around the blazing fire.
I had the first watch and Valen the second.
My shift passed uneventfully, and I was thankful for the boredom.
Valen was already awake when I went to touch his shoulder, pulling back his blanket and stretching. He didn't say anything, the easy conversation of the mimic's lair was something of the distant past, as I settled back to sleep.
I was more than a little surprised when he moved his bedroll to be closer to mind once his shift was done, the movement waking me. He got comfortable lying on his side and shirting his blankets. But then, very tentatively, he shifted back, so his back was pressed to mine — just as I had done the night before — despite the current heat of the fire.
His breathing didn't take long to even out.
Sleep found me easier after that, his warmth lulling me into a dream of warm sands and clear blue skies.
The fading dream of happiness was probably why I was in such a foul mood the next day when we were greeted by more puzzle rooms like the mimic's lair, lava popping all around us.
It was yet another day of pulling the ring off and on, off and on — with swearing than I think I'd ever done in my life — as we zapped to and from platform to platform with the shrivelled hand come magical grappling hook. I emptied my stomach more than once, much to my embarrassment.
But it was all eventually worth it, because the following day, we finally found the Knower of Places.
All I wished was that she could have teleported us somewhere other than the middle of a battle between demons and devils.
NOTEBOOK EXTRACT
The following is in Jane's handwriting. The first name is written in a slightly different colour of ink than the others, presumably written at a different point in time. It has been crossed out and re-written in multiple attempts at getting the correct spelling.
True Names
Okastine the Demonwrestler x
Oskathine the Demonwrestler x
Oeskathine the Demonwrestler
Hecugoth the Abandoned
Va'ardalia the Twinsouled
Pyreshi the Knower
Thra'axfyl the Ambitious