Bernt sat in the inn’s common room, tapping his foot nervously. With the addition of Torvald's great uncle, they were fifteen people in all, though Torvald himself wasn't here.

  The paladin – Bernt's legal charge – was currently being questioned by the City Guard because of his latest divine mission. Without Bernt. He'd bolted out of bed in the middle of the night, shouting, and run clear across the city to the lake. By the time Bernt caught up with him, two guards were watching the paladin drag an unconscious dwarf out of the water. Both his feet had been encased in magically shaped stone and he'd been dumped into the lake to drown. While they didn't think Torvald had anything to do with it as a paladin of Ruzinia, the guards thought he could help them figure out who was responsible. He was humoring them, for now, though Bernt couldn't guess why.

  Fortunately, they didn't actually have the right to detain a representative of the Invigilation in good standing. They would be leaving soon, heading on to Gobford. In preparation, high priest Hannis had summoned everyone down here to "discuss their next steps."

  Surprisingly, it wasn’t him who started talking, but his legitimator, Captain Emata.

  “With the people that we lost to the demons, and the injured who are on their way to Teres, we only have six adventurers left to act as guards,” Emata began, looking over those who remained. “While the Duergars’ demons couldn’t seriously threaten our group in a direct fight, we can’t afford to walk into repeated ambushes, either. The demons will always return so long as we don’t kill their warlocks.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s not a lot we can do about that." Kanan, one of the remaining adventurers grumbled. "Not unless they climb out of the Depths for us and throw themselves on our swords. We’ll never make it to the Peaks at that rate.”

  Emata nodded in agreement. “That is correct. What we need is scouts when we’re on the move during the day, and stronger defenses to protect ourselves from ambushes at night – just like we use in the military. To this end, archdruid Leirin, high priest Hannis and I have approached the Adventurers’ Guild to hire additional guards with the relevant expertise.”

  High Priest Angjou cleared her throat, frowning. “How many? And who is going to pay them? Don’t you think you should have asked us before making a decision like that? As long as we keep moving quickly enough, they shouldn’t be able to strike us. They have to keep up, and they have to wend their way through caves and tunnels while we can travel in a nearly straight line.”

  “That’s all true, but also naive." Emata replied, her voice gaining an edge. "What are you going to do if and when they find a solution to this problem? Are you going to fight them next time?” Emata scoffed and continued, “Assuming that everything will be fine is going to get us killed. The Temple of Noruk has generously offered to shoulder the burden if the others should fail to embrace the seriousness of our situation.” She gave a little nod toward Hannis, who inclined his head toward her.

  Bernt furrowed his brow, bewildered by the exchange. Since when were they getting along so well? It was a relief, to be honest. Hannis was clearly an asshole, but at least he seemed serious about not getting them all killed.

  “Yes, great. The Temple of Eyeli will also provide funding as needed.” Surin said, rolling her eyes impatiently. “Let’s get on with this. Who did you get?”

  Torvald didn’t say anything, but then, nobody expected him to. He had no authority to distribute funds from the Temple of Ruzinia. For that matter, Bernt doubted that they actually had any. Emata cleared her throat, looking a little hesitant for the first time.

  “We were recommended a small party of locals – two rangers, a druid and a shaman – who I agree would serve our purposes best. Their respective specializations should provide us with early warning of any demonic activity, while also slowing and weakening any attacks on us.”

  Nirlig sat up, a slow smile splitting his face, but it was Olias who spoke first.

  “A… shaman? Like, a troll witch doctor or something? Do they let those into the Adventurers’ Guild nowadays?”

  “Ah, no. They’re goblins from Xul’Dirin up the river for the most part, but the druid is a human.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Angjou asked delicately, pointedly not glancing over at Nirlig. “I mean, we’re a religious delegation. Is it appropriate to employ shamanistic… peoples in our defense? Besides, we already have a very powerful druid with us. Does it make sense to recruit another?”

  “Yes to both.” Emata said emphatically. “Adventurers are best recruited in parties – they’ll be used to operating as a team, which is more than I can say for our current complement of guards.” Some of the other adventurers shifted in their seats, and Emata hastened to add, “Through no fault of their own, I’m sure. We accepted pairs and individual adventurers in Halfbridge because we didn’t attract experienced parties after all the fighting we’ve had."

  “Druids aren't a monolith.” Leirin threw in. “Different circles in different regions have their own traditions and seed catalogues. There's no reason to assume that another druid would be redundant.”

  Emata nodded at him with a small smile, acknowledging his support. "They’re well ranked and will be able to improve our overall security significantly, especially with archdruid Leirin and wizard Bernard’s assistance.”

  “Goblins can also see in the dark.” Nirlig chimed in. “So, you know… that’s something to consider before you let anybody change your mind.”

  The tactician grinned. “Thank you, Nirlig, I was aware.”

  ***

  “Are you finally going to tell me why you’re so excited?” Bernt asked Nirlig. They were waiting with the rest of the expedition just outside Lochholme’s western gate, trying not to block traffic across the massive bridge that crossed the Sul River here. Most of the expedition was parked on a small open area next to the gate, but Bernt and a few others loitered at the foot of the bridge to keep an eye out for the new adventurer party. They were supposed to join them here, but they were late. Uriah stood nearby, critically examining the re-carved runes on his borrowed staff.

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  “Oh alright. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.” Nirlig was standing up on the bridge’s balustrade, trying to get a look over the crowds of people shuffling in and out of the gate. “There aren’t a lot of goblin adventurers out there, and only a very small number of those are shamans. Only one, actually, that I know of. She’s a legend – Xul’evareg. Her name’s more like a title, I have no idea what her actual name is. It means “wrath of Xul”. She used to be a war leader against the Adventurers’ Guild, back when Xul’Dirin was still a dungeon.”

  Bernt shook his head in confusion. “How is she an adventurer, then?” Belatedly, he added. “And wouldn’t she be way too old?”

  Nirlig laughed. “Try telling her that. She threatened to found a competing guild during the negotiations for the Kallrixian Accords – the ambassador would have let her do it, too. There are never enough adventurers around to fight off all the nasty things that are harassing and preying on people. It was a big deal, even if most of us still don’t want to have anything to do with Adventurers’ Guild.”

  Bernt spotted a tall young woman coming out of the gate, looking around for something. She stuck out of the local crowd for several reasons beyond her height, the most obvious of which were the tattoos on her face, her beat-up old quarterstaff and her armor – boiled leather over a gambeson. The tattoos marked her as a pagan from the Beseri wildlands and, if Bernt didn’t miss his guess, she was their new druid.

  Her eyes locked Nirlig, then Bernt, then the rest of the group. A moment later, she pressed through the crowd toward them, pushing out of the flow of traffic alongside three goblins. All three were also women, and they looked as though they might have been three generations of the same family tree.

  The eldest and obviously the leader of the group was a white-haired shaman, recognizable mainly by the fact that she didn’t carry an obvious weapon. Her weathered skin was heavily wrinkled, but her back was straight and she carried herself with energy that belied her obvious age. She had a bandolier covered with small pouches and carried what looked like a ritual knife made of stone tucked into her belt. The other two carried short bows, one in early middle age and the other probably a bit younger than Bernt.

  The old shaman stepped forward, “Escort to Norhold, right? Which one of you is Emata?”

  The Captain, who’d hadn’t noticed them approach, interrupted her conversation with Hannis to come and greet the newcomers.

  “Right here, welcome! Xul’evareg, right? Come on over, I’ll introduce you to the priests. They're the ones with the purse strings.”

  The two moved off toward the carriage, leaving the other three behind with Bernt, Nirlig and Uriah.

  “Well, it’s good to see we’re not the first goblins in the group,” the older of the two goblins said, nodding to Nirlig. “I hope that means we don’t have to spend the first few days walking on eggshells around all these humans. You broke them in for us, right? And such a handsome young man, too.” She winked at him and elbowed the girl next to her. “Right, Ina?”

  The younger goblin cringed a little and blushed, obviously embarrassed. Bernt looked back, expecting Nirlig to make some kind of quip to defuse the awkward tension, but he was staring wide-eyed at the young ranger in turn.

  Oh boy.

  “Ehm. Is it true you have an archdruid?” the only human member of their party asked after a moment, looking over the group, tapping the butt of her staff on the ground in a nervous gesture. She had a light accent that Bernt couldn’t place. “Eva said she saw one at the guild. I’d love to meet him.”

  ***

  As the column got underway, the two goblin rangers left the main group to scout ahead, leaving their human companion to walk with Bernt’s group. Around that time, the old goblin shamaness returned and began questioning Nirlig about what had been going on in Halfbridge over the last few months. While news of the Duergar attack had spread, stories of Halfbridge’s new Undercity were still mostly rumor and Xul’evareg was clearly eager to separate fact from fiction.

  The druid’s name was Estrid. She had exchanged a few words with Leirin, but the archdruid had elected to ride in the carriage with the priests and Olias, who had invited himself. She didn’t appear to be interested in getting to know the rest of the expedition and walked in silence for the most part, only briefly introducing herself to Torvald and Uriah. She didn’t speak to Elyn, which was strange, but the half-elf didn’t take offense.

  “So… where are you from?” Bernt asked after a while. He wasn't about to walk all the way to Gobford in silence. “I’ve seen a couple of people with tattoos back home, but those aren’t the same markings they have up near Halfbridge.”

  Estrid looked over at him a little suspiciously, as if trying to decide whether to answer.

  “I grew up in the east, across the Uvner River at the foot of the mountains,” she finally said.

  “Wow, really? I didn’t even know people lived there.” Bernt replied encouragingly. “What’s it like?”

  “There’s good hunting, but it’s dangerous with all the trolls and the elves.” She glanced nervously back toward Elyn. “The troll raids got to be too much, when I was a girl. The elves to the south don’t hunt you, but they kill you if you step into their territory. So, there was nowhere to go except over the river.”

  Ah, that made sense. Full-blooded elves were notoriously xenophobic. They weren’t totally isolationist – in fact, they loved to travel, showing up in towns and cities all over the continent and were generally courteous guests. No, they just didn’t allow any foreign visitors into their own territories.

  “Did you go looking for the other… tribes in the wildlands?” he asked. It seemed rude to call her a pagan to her face, even if it was technically accurate. She nodded.

  “That’s how we ended up in Xul’Dirin. We heard there were people who spoke our language up in the forests there, or close enough to understand. But they weren’t very happy to see us.” She gestured to the tattoo on her cheekbones. “Turns out our tribes had some kind of blood feud forever ago, before your people came and took the land between us. We didn’t remember anymore, but they did. The goblins took us in instead.”

  “And that’s how you ended up in an adventuring party with three of them?

  “Sort of. I joined for Ina. We grew up together. She’s a prodigy with the bow, and Ksuwa’s been teaching her to track and scout for nearly ten years. Needs somebody to watch her back, though, and a healer. Xul’evareg jumped at the chance to take me on. Goblin casters don’t go adventuring, normally. They’re too important to the community.”

  Bernt cocked his head at her, trying to decide if she was pulling his leg. “Druids can heal people?” Leirin couldn’t do that… If he could, the archdruid would have helped with the wounded after they were attacked, right? Besides, he’d never even heard of it. Druids did strange magic with plants, not people.

  Estrid shrugged modestly, allowing herself a small smile. “You figure out all kinds of things if you have to.”

  Bernt watched her for another second and then nodded slowly. Mages dabbled in medicine, too. Why shouldn’t a druid have figured something out?

  “True enough. I worked out a way to fix a spiritual injury to my mana network recently. It had some pretty unexpected side effects, though.”

  Estrid perked up, suddenly interested. “Spiritual damage? Are you serious? What happened? How does it work?”

  Bernt was only too happy to explain.