Ed was attempting to cook a pancake on a flat rock when one of the damned imps up and disappeared in the corner of his eye.

  That wasn't right...

  He turned, peering more closely at the enclosure, which was now packed tight with the little buggers. Was there one missing? He began to count, but they were always squirming around so much. It was like trying to do a headcount during a bar brawl.

  “Dammit, stand to attention!” he barked, and several of them did, though others ignored him. Still, it helped a little. He only had to start over twice, but he came up short by one.

  Shit.

  “Jori, we’re missing an imp,” he called over his shoulder. “Which one’s missing?”

  Jori, who had been heating their cooking rock with a tiny hellfire flame, peeled the pancake off the top with her bare hand and took a bite.

  “Needs salt, I think,” she pronounced as she stepped up to the bars to peer inside. “Just a pinch, though. Bernt always puts a little salt in the batter. Or maybe it’s because we don’t have any eggs. But we have salt. We should try it.”

  She bobbed back and forth, trying to get eyes on each of the imps inside. A moment later, she turned, frowning.

  “Ed… there’s two missing, not one. Maladzhoth and Faedris.”

  Ed scowled into the space as if his displeasure could simply will them back inside. Where had they gone?

  Then another seized up for a moment, eyes growing wide as it disappeared as well, right in front of his eyes.

  Oh hells. That had better not be what it looked like.

  “Hey… do you think…?” Jori asked as another imp popped out of existence, followed by two more in quick succession.

  “They’re being summoned,” Ed said, rubbing at his forehead. “Whenever they get back they’ll be right back in here, but they’ll be able to talk to the Duergar and whoever else they’re summoning on the other side in the meantime. We need to move, now. Tallash will know who’s after him, and he’ll either run or get help if we don’t get him first.”

  Jori hissed in agitation and beat her wings against the air. Then she calmed and turned, eyes alight.

  “Wait, that means they probably summoned him, too, right? We know where the fiend is camped. Near enough anyway. It doesn’t matter. They won’t return together – not unless they’re all killed at the same time on the mortal plane. We can just pick them off as they return, get the imps out of the way and then ambush Tallash alone as soon as I smell him!”

  “Good enough,” Ed said, looking distracted. “As long as we’re close, we should be able to get him without too much trouble. We’ll need to take it in shifts, keeping an eye out. Maybe check the cell here every once in a while to see when they start regenerating. It’ll give us a little advance warning, since I doubt Tallash leads from the front.”

  Killing that damned demon wasn’t going to be a problem. No, Ed was more worried about the Duergar. If they were summoning even the imps, what did that mean? Were they coming for another city?

  He felt a clawed hand pat his arm, and he looked down at the little demon, his only company in this place.

  “You’re wishing you were back home to fight them?” Jori asked.

  “Hmph.” Ed grunted. “Of course I am. For all we know, they’re taking another poke at Halfbridge while I’m sitting in a godsdamned cave. What use am I here?”

  “Well,” Jori said, teeth glinting as she grinned a vicious, sharp-toothed grin, “think of it this way. Back home, all you can do is send Nuros’ servants home. If you kill them here, they’ll stay down forever.”

  ***

  The expedition bedded down at a well-used campsite by the road just a few hours later. There were a lot of villages around this area where a single traveler might find a bed for a night with the odd farmer, but there were very few inns. A few of the adventurers had pointed out that they might be able to rent a spot to sleep in someone’s barn rather than out in the open – but the priests had refused. They had their pride to consider, after all.

  Still, it was much better than the cramped, wet boat ride had been. Some of the adventurers unloaded supplies and worked to set up tents for the priests. Bernt wasn’t sure if they were being paid to act like servants, or if they were just hoping for a tip, but he guessed it was the former. A few tried to engage them in conversation when they came out of the carriage, inviting them to sit at their fire.

  Now that Bernt thought about it, there had to be some higher-ranking adventurers here besides Leirin, right? At least, one or two of them had to be connected. If Iriala went to such trouble to prepare him for this trip, surely branchmaster Ambrose would have an agent or two among the guards to communicate the guild’s interests to any listening ears. He should probably be joining them right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was too tired, and the insincere flattery was painful to watch. Besides, the other legitimators weren’t participating either. Captain Emata stood like a shadow behind Hannis’ shoulder while Lierin appeared to be growing a bed for himself from what had been dry grasses under a tree just moments before.

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  Regin was standing around as if he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do, but Elyn took pity on him a moment later. The half-elf put him to work finding rocks to put around their fire. Bernt wasn’t sure how he felt about them essentially adopting the young nobleman into their group. He seemed in over his head, which wasn’t great. On the other hand, he seemed surprisingly normal for a guy with a title, and Nirlig seemed to like him.

  Finding a reasonably dry spot, Bernt cast a large torch spell through his right arm, flexing and modulating the sorcererous investiture by feel as he did so. He’d never cast this exact spell with these modifications before, but it was very close and it just felt right.

  Sure enough, a large white blaze materialized, hovering a few inches off the ground and flickering up in a mesmerizing pattern – as fire tended to do. It had no physical fuel, produced no smoke, and if he’d done it right…

  Bernt shaped a small amount of mana into a ball in his left hand and ‘tossed’ it into the flames. Nothing happened. The pyromancer grinned, settling down as his group dropped their things and began unpacking food and blankets.

  “I take it you just worked something out?” Uriah asked, squatting down next to the fire and examining it curiously. “What were you testing?”

  “It’s a modified version of a perpetual flame.” Bernt explained and Uriah scrambled back, falling on his ass. A few of the others looked their way and one laughed and pointed at the downed hydromancer. Uriah ignored them.

  “Gah! What the hells! Are you nuts? You can’t just cast something like that here! There’s mana everywhere. Practically everyone’s gear is enchanted – you’re going to kill somebody!”

  “Easy, relax!” Bernt said, holding a hand out as if trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I modified it, remember? The spell has a defined burn rate, so it can’t spread. I mean, don’t stick your hand in it, but it’s safe. Mostly.”

  Still eyeing Bernt warily, Uriah got back up.

  “Is it really that dangerous?” Nirlig asked, looking between the two casters a little bemusedly. “I mean, I saw what it could do to mages during the battle, but honestly, really hot fire kills people. Who cares if it burns mana, right?”

  Uriah shook his head. “You don’t get it. If it burns your enchanted gear, it’s going to hurt and your skin gets burned. Maybe badly. If it gets me, it’s going to ignite the mana running around inside my body. I don’t care what Bernt says, I’m not cooking my food over that.”

  “Alright,” Nirlig shrugged, holding out a pot. “I’ll do it. Can you give me some water? I traded for some salted pork from Kanan over there earlier – he’s got a whole barrel stuffed away on one of the carts. We can cook it up with some potatoes, and I think I saw some greens we can eat growing under those trees over there.”

  As it turned out, Nirlig was an excellent cook.

  ***

  The attack came three hours after dusk. After a full day of walking, the adventurers were tired, and those who hadn’t drawn the short straw for sentry duty were fast asleep. There was an abrupt shriek in the darkness, cut off almost as quickly as it came. The sound was so raw and inhuman that it didn't feel real, for a moment, but it woke the entire camp.

  Then another, more normal scream sounded and shouts answered. Almost by reflex, Bernt cast torch spells, manifesting them as far away from himself and the others as possible, over the road and a nearby ditch. No need to mark themselves as targets if they could help it, but they needed to see something. Where was the enemy?

  A dark shape was sprinting down the road on all fours. It was larger than a man with burning, red eyes. As it opened its mouth, fire dripped down onto the road in a sulfurous dribble.

  “Hellhound!” Bernt shouted, conjuring banefire in his right hand. “Demons!”

  Others were shouting now, and people were moving around him, but he wasn’t paying attention. With a throwing motion, Bernt adjusted his aim and flung the gray fireball at the hellhound. The thing dodged and the flames struck the road right next to it. That was fine, though. Thanks to Bernt’s burning rain investiture, the power impacted like a liquid, spattering over the demon’s legs. It screeched in agony and fell, rolling around in an attempt to put itself out.

  Then Torvald was there, swinging his sword through the creature’s neck with liquid grace. He whirled away even as he did so, avoiding the spray of hellfire the came pouring out of the gash. A shout sounded to Bernt’s left and he looked to see Uriah beating a small winged creature with a staff before ramming the end down into its chest with a crunching sound and a small burst of hellfire as a rib punctured the imp’s skin. Hey, that was his staff!

  More shouts rang through the camp and a searingly bright light cut through the darkness, gone just as quickly as it came and leaving Bernt blinking in the darkness. He could smell sulfur in the air. Nirlig cursed and Torvald shouted for someone to duck. Something hissed, nearby. Belatedly, Bernt activated his thornskin amulet, feeling thorns burst out through his skin and catching on the inside of his robes. It was annoying, but his caution was rewarded a moment later, when something landed on his head. He dropped his chin as claws gouged at his face and chest.

  Screaming in pain and surprise, Bernt slapped at the thing, trying to shape a simple spellform in his mind as he did. It took a moment longer than normal, and it looked a bit weaker than it was supposed to be, but the dim, gray torch spell formed directly in front of his face. The demon shrieked and tried to jump away, but it had already caught fire. Its skin cracked and sulfurous hellfire burst out, though it flickered and died soon after, smothered by the cold gray fire as the imp stopped struggling.

  Dimly, Bernt heard chanting from the wagons, followed by another flash of light. Then another and another.

  A bloody dawn rose over the camp, illuminating demons everywhere – imps, hellhounds, fiends and other things that Bernt didn’t immediately recognize. Some were humanoid, some more like beasts, and still others had no clear taxonomic reference at all. Josie might know what they all were, but to Bernt they were just monsters -- twenty five, maybe thirty of them. A voice rose over the din, clear and sonorous and ringing with perverse rapture.

  “Come, assassins! You who would challenge the Conqueror! Come, you who crave the taste of true defeat! Noruk has tasted your blood, and he is thirsty, still!”

  Bernt wasn’t sure if it was the words or the unearthly light. Maybe demons could sense the hostile attention of a god directly. Regardless, they fled, withdrawing just as quickly as they’d come.

  A shadow flickered by and joined Bernt’s own, causing it to twitch and flicker back and forth, despite the steady red light blazing from where the wagons stood and his own nearby torch spells.

  “Found you…again,” a voice whispered into his ear. “We have you… now. Soon. Next time.”

  Bernt flinched violently away from the sound, casting a light with his right hand even as he launched a diffuse cone of cold fire down at his shadow with his left.

  The shade disintegrated with a sound like water in a hot pan.