The afternoon breeze rustling through the overhead canopy joined the Shand herself in a whispered murmur of shared mourning. The group gathered silently at either end of two simple graves. A basic mound of earth marked the first; the second lay open, next to a large pile of stones. The druid’s shoulders slumped as she fidgeted with two seeds, passing them back and forth between her fingers. Her voice cracked as she spoke, her eyes lingering on the dwarf’s still and ashen face.

  “He should be entombed in stone. That’s the dwarven way.”

  “I did the best I could under the circumstances, Lulu.” Glynfir sighed. “The spell only lets me move earth, not carve solid rock. The grave is entirely lined with stones, and I’ll cover him those. It will have to do.”

  He somberly gazed down at his friend one last time, arms folded across the axe on his chest. In the hours since Grym’s death, Lunish had barely spoken and avoided all eye contact. I’ve never seen her like this. The wizard put his hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s not your fault, Lulu. You can’t blame yourself.”

  Her head spun around to meet his gaze, eyes flashing dangerously.

  “Oh really? Tell me, what exactly did I do to help in that fight? Hmm?”

  Glynfir froze, his mouth agape at the sudden outburst.

  “I tried to heal him instead of attacking that thing, got tossed in the river, and by the time I came back, he was dead!” Her fists balled up, her face flushed as she spat out her own indictment. “When he needed me the most, I let him down, and now he’s gone. I would say it is my fault, Glynnie. If I wasn’t such a shitty fighter, he might still be alive!”

  The druid turned away from him, sobbing, as awkwardness descended over the rest of the group. The Verdant Blades kept their gaze dutifully on the ground below them, refusing to get involved in the discussion. Glynfir began to respond when Segwyn caught his gaze. The ranger silently furrowed his brow and raised his palm. Taking the suggestion that this was not the time, the wizard closed his mouth and shook his head. Whydah, meanwhile, glanced from Lunish to Glynfir, and finally to Bird, quizzically shrugging her shoulders. After receiving a subtle nod in reply, she raised the pipes and began to play.

  The piece was a somber funeral march. Bird winced as the harsh, haunting notes pierced the silence and echoed among the surrounding foothills, wordlessly telling a tale of sorrow and loss. The drone pipes sighed an unbroken mournful background as she worked the melody from the chanter. When the bard allowed the mouthpiece to fall from her lips and the hum of the drones stubbornly faded, she nodded to Glynfir.

  The wizard’s fingers twitched as he magically pulled the pile of earth over the Shan rider that had overtaken them on the road hours before. A downward sweep of his hand leveled the surface. He turned to Grym’s grave, wiping a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand before repeating the gestures. The low rumble of grinding stone joined the river and the wind in saying a final goodbye as the pile of rocks shifted to entomb the dwarf, falling into place with a series of faint clicks.

  Lunish stumbled back three paces, ragged sobs catching in her throat. She sank to her knees at the head of the makeshift cairn. Clearing the leaf litter produced the comfortable scent of loam, and the earth was cool against her fingers. She pushed one of the seeds several inches into the loose soil, pressing it down firmly before repeating the process above the rider’s grave.

  “I would step back a bit,” she announced to the group barely above a whisper.

  Her hands crackled with a green glow as the others backed up. Placing one palm on the ground above each seed, the gnome closed her eyes, her lips moving soundlessly. She inhaled sharply as the magic flooded in and euphoria overwhelmed her. At one with the warm, limitless vitality of nature, she contemplated just letting it take her, returning to the earth in full surrender. It would be so easy. No more of this misery and pain. Remembering her purpose, she shook it off. No. Grym wouldn’t want that.

  Acting as the conduit to the magic of life, she channeled its force through each hand and into the seeds below. Immediately, sprouts pushed through the surface. Grasping them gently between her fingers, she tempered the flow, feeding each as much as it could handle. In moments, the seedlings became saplings, their trunks thickening and darkening as the two plants pushed skyward. Red-tinged oval leaves twirled and unfurled before their eyes as the growing trees sent branches in all directions, the greenery and buds filling out as they grew. When they reached fifteen feet, blossoms popped from tendril tips, dusting the living and the dead with sweet-smelling pollen. Instantly, both trees were in full bloom, their branches heavy with deep pink flowers. It was an idyllic resting place—sprawling branches filled with blossoms overhead and the sparkling Shand at their feet.

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  Lunish reluctantly closed off the arcane energy and removed her hands from the trunks. Opening her eyes, she rose to her feet and admired her handiwork. The magic’s departure had left her empty, and sorrow quickly refilled the void. Her chest tightened as she regarded the group, lips pressed tightly together.

  “Even though it’s midsummer, these trees will bloom at this time every year.” She stepped forward, laying her hand on one of the large stones atop Grym’s cairn. She lowered her head, speaking directly to him. “I hope the beauty below matches the beauty above, my friend. Long may you run in the halls of Erackinor.” Without another word, she strode off towards the river’s edge.

  The late afternoon sun struggled to break through the stiffening cloud cover rolling in from the east as it began to dip behind the Glimmerstone peaks. While still pleasant, cooler offshore breezes, now rich with the scent of flowers, threatened rain by nightfall. Segwyn was the first to speak as the group lingered at the graveside, marveling at the mature trees raised from seeds in moments—two new lives flourished in tribute to two lost.

  “What now? Will you ride on tonight?” He was looking at Bird. The tabby cocked his head in consideration, glancing briefly at Whydah. The bard pouted her lips and shrugged, subtly shaking her head.

  “I don’t think so. We can’t make the Luminarium by nightfall without really pushing the horses.” The cat gazed skyward, “And I’m not particularly fond of riding in the rain. I think we’ll camp here tonight and get a fresh, and hopefully dry, start in the morning.”

  Segwyn nodded. “That sounds wise. How about you, wizard?”

  Glynfir grunted, shaking his head.

  “I don’t think we’re going anywhere with Lulu in her current state. The morning probably makes more sense for us, too. I don’t fancy meeting any more of those demons in the dark.”

  The ranger nodded again. “It’s settled then. We camp here tonight.”

  Whydah looked confused. “You’re part of the Eredmire military, right? Don’t you have to get back?”

  “Eventually,” the ranger waved his hand dismissively. “But our top priority is to figure out how these demons got here and make sure there aren’t more. We’ll follow their backtrail to the source tomorrow. Also, we should clean up the mess on the road. It wouldn’t be very neighborly to leave it for the Shan… That would be like letting your dog shit in next door’s garden and not cleaning it up.” Low chuckles rose from the group, everyone grateful for a bit of levity.

  He turned to the Verdant Blades. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before dark.” He pointed his fingers around the group, dividing up tasks. “You two—see what you can hunt down for dinner, we’ve got thirteen mouths to feed. The four of you, please deal with what’s left of that horse, and you two get to work setting up camp. I’ll deal with the demon corpses.” A series of nods and confirmations preceded the soldiers' dispersal in multiple directions according to their assigned duties.

  Bird stepped forward. “I feel partially responsible for the mess, I’ll help with the corpses.” Segwyn gave an appreciative nod.

  “Come on, Glynfir, looks like we’re on camp duty!” Whydah tugged his sleeve, turning towards the nearby clearing, their horses and packs.

  “Call me Glynnie,” the wizard responded as the group dispersed. “Do you think I should go after her?” he asked Whydah as they reached the road.

  “Not yet. Give her some time.”

  “Where are we going with these?” Bird asked, picking up one leg of the Sklir. He grimaced distastefully at the sticky feel of the creature’s ooze against his palm and its sulfuric aroma. Segwyn, his hands occupied with the second demon, pointed his nose towards a low ditch filled with raspberry bushes off the side of the road, answering with an up nod.

  “There’s good, I think.”

  “They’re lighter than I expected—not much to them,” the tabby remarked, taking great care to avoid touching the demon’s viscous surface any more than necessary as he directed it to the edge of the swale before launching it over the edge with a shove of his foot. Fresh pain shot up his left side, forcing a wince. He had momentarily forgotten about the injuries to his ribs and leg from the earlier battle. Whydah’s voice magically whispered in his head as the corpse rolled down into the brambles. Can you please bring back a few bits and pieces just in case? He turned to the ranger. “Hang on. Before you launch that one, Whydah wants some pieces for one of her spells. Just hold his leg up for a second?” The tabby bent down, wiping the demon slime from his hands on the grass.

  Sensing what was to come, Segwyn stepped back, extending to his full reach, and hoisted the leg off the road’s surface. Bird rose, drew the katana, and with one smooth motion, all four toes hit the gravel with a soft plop. He sheathed the sword before producing a handkerchief from the pocket of his leathers. Gathering the orphaned digits from the road, he returned the prize to his pocket.

  The ranger dropped the leg and wiped his hands on the fringes of his cape. He nodded towards the sword as he kicked the second corpse into the ditch.

  “I noticed your tactics during the fight. Unorthodox but very impressive. Where did you learn to dual-wield like that?”

  The tabby chuckled. “An old thief named Broken Fang. The cat was high most of the time. It was a real shame because he had mad skills, but he was so lazy.”

  He idly plucked a raspberry from a nearby bush and popped it into his mouth. “For him, it was all about ending the fight quickly, and he put a lot of thought into his technique to minimize effort.” The cat made a noise that resembled a chuckling purr. “I had to bribe him with ditch nip to get him to teach me.”

  “Ditch nip?” The ranger furrowed his brow.

  Bird looked around before stepping across the road and plucking a fistful of greenery from the shoulder. He handed it to Segwyn.

  “Ditch nip. Wild catnip, named for where it grows—ditches and roadsides. Not the most effective, and a bit harsh, but for tabbies, it’ll get the job done!”

  It was the ranger’s turn to chuckle. “I didn’t realize catnip had that effect on your people, but it makes sense.” As he prepared to toss the plants into the bushes, he felt Bird’s hand on his arm.

  “Actually, can I have that back? It’s been that kind of day!”

  The Glimmerstone Enigma?

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