Emily and the Spellbreaker

The air of the cavern was damp and humid, and Emily could hear the faint echoes of dripping water. Veins of quartz and other minerals sparkled in the light from the flame in her hand as she proceeded deeper into the tunnel. She realized that she had no way of knowing where the tunnel led, or how much longer it would be traversable. And though she strained her ears, hoping that the cries of her companions might give her some direction, she heard nothing more than the sound of water dripping.

But there seemed no better course than continuing to follow the tunnel. She did so, until it came to a dead end. Then she returned to the main cavern and found another to follow, listening all the while for the faintest sound of her friends. She marked each tunnel she’d already explored with piles of lose stones.

I am not trapped in this place, she assured herself. She was perfectly capable of launching herself from the cavern all the way back up to the surface with Stoneshell fire, just as she had done during the duel with Richard. Though it did seem that she had fallen quite a distance. But in any case, it was no good returning to the surface without her friends. And finding them, she told herself, was just a matter of methodically exploring this dark, damp, enormous cave complex.

Of course there was the possibility that she would encounter Elara before her friends. The thought made Emily shiver.

Though there remained no sight or sound of her friends—or enemy—one particular tunnel brought her closed to source of the dripping water. She followed a winding passage to a narrow opening which she was just able to squeeze through, brushing one shoulder against the rough stone.

Emily found herself in a small, almost circular cavern. Water dripped down from stalactites on the ceiling, splashing into a crystal-clear pool which occupied the center of the cavern, surrounded by dark walls. Staring at her reflection in the water, she felt almost as though she had been transported back to the surface of the Labyrinthine Pool. A vivid memory came to her, of standing over that watery surface, staring at her reflection as she readied herself to begin her adventure.

Her present reflection and the one from her memory seemed to fade between each other. She was better adorned now—barely—but alone, without Aria or Brom at her sides. Her hair was longer, and its natural orange undertones had become more pronounced, blending with the flame in her palm. Her face had a harder expression, and her skin was slightly darker, stretched over more visible muscles, and speckled with small scars. Against her chest, the Stoneshell glowed.

Glowed? Emily looked up from her reflection and looked around the cavern with fresh eyes. She’d had a vague sense, upon entering, of the darkness of the walls—a uniform blackness unlike the grays and browns of the stone she had become accustomed to. But while she had been staring into the pool, the blackness had started to change, a bright orange spreading through it. The walls of the cavern were coated in a thick moss, which appeared to be changing color before her eyes.

Facing the nearest wall, Emily reached out and touched a spot of still-black moss. At her touch, it turned orange, and the color rippled out from her hand. It was soft, warm, and felt… alive! The moss squirmed beneath her fingers like an animal. With a cry of shock, Emily pulled her hand from the wall.

“Careful, miss,” said a deep voice behind her. “There’s powerful magic here.”

Still reeling, Emily spun around to see a man standing in front of the tunnel she had come through. Her gaze met a pair of piercing blue eyes beneath a wild mane of brown hair. He was tall, dressed in tattered brown robes, with a sharp jawline covered in a few days of beard growth and an expression that was curious, but guarded.

“Have—have you been following me?” Emily asked. The intensity of the man’s gaze reminded her of the inadequacy of her current outfit, which certainly hadn’t escaped his notice.

“Not for long,” said the man. “And with no ill intent. I assume from the flame you carry that you are no stranger to self defense.”

Emily glanced at the flame in her hand, willed it a little bigger, and then looked back at the man. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same question,” he replied, holding her gaze and showing no signs of fear. “Down here, we’re both cut off from the dominion of man. I assume that you’re human. If not—if one of my enemies has sent a succubus to tempt me, know that it will not work.”

“What?! I—no, what, ugh!” Emily blushed and stammered at the accusation. “Of course I’m human!” She waved both arms in the air and punctuated her statement with blasts of fire from both palms.

The man raised an eyebrow. “A half-naked woman, wandering alone in the Deep Realm, conjuring fire from her palms.”

“I’m not alone! Or at least, I wasn’t. My friends are here as well, somewhere. I just got separated from them.” Emily glanced down at the blue scarf tied in a cross-shape over her body, full appreciating how much of her it didn’t cover. “And I don’t normally dress like this. It’s… a long story.”

“What is your name?” asked the man, his tone softening. Perhaps something in Emily’s words or tone of voice had sparked some sympathy in him, or perhaps he was also coming to appreciate how much of Emily was not covered by the scarf.

“Emily.”

“My name is Dorian,” the man replied, stepping closer and reaching out a hand. “Dorian Blackwood, spellbreaker, at your service.” He bowed, and Emily noticed for the first time that he carried a large sword on his back.

Emily felt Dorian’s fingers against hers, and then the light press of his lips to her hand. His beard bristles tickled her fingers, but there was something else… a slight tingle.

Dorian looked up into Emily’s eyes. “I believe you speak the truth, Miss Emily. An apparition would have dissolved at the merest touch, and a succubus would now be burning from the press of my lips.” He produced a small blue vial from one of the folds of his cloak. “Holy water.”

“That must mean something different around here,” Emily said. At the confused look on Dorian’s face, she added, “Uh, never mind.” She didn’t need to tell him everything.

Dorian stood up to his full height, briefly startling Emily. He was standing very close to her now, and had an intense look in his eyes. She flickered a few small flames around her fingertips and felt reassured.

“There is powerful magic all around us. But a great part of it, I now see, comes from you.” Dorian turned his gaze to Emily’s chest. “That necklace is an immensely powerful artifact. The band on your arm, less so.”

“I know.”

“The walls of this chamber are also filthy with magic. This black moss—I have encountered much of it in this part of the Deep. It is called nightmoss. When you touched the wall, it turned orange. Look behind you—even now, it remains faintly discolored.”

Emily craned her neck to see that Dorian was correct. The spot of moss that had moved beneath her touch was a deep orange color, in contrast with the pitch blackness of the moss around it. “It… moved. When I touched it, I mean.”

Dorian nodded. “Yes. Nightmoss is responsive to magic. Though I have not seen it change color before.”

“Is it dangerous?” asked Emily.

“Usually not,” Dorian said. “You must be tired. Hungry, perhaps? Do you have food or supplies?”

Emily blushed and shrugged, holding empty hands out to her side. “I’ve only got the, uh, clothes on my back.” She winced at this admission, even though this was more than she could have said for much of her adventure so far. “My, uh, my friends are carrying all the supplies.” This was true enough.

Dorian’s eyes widened. “Then you are fortunate I came along. I’ve set up a camp not far from here. There you may rest and eat.”

Emily still didn’t quite trust Dorian, but had to admit his offer sounded enticing. On the other hand, she didn’t know what he was capable of. He had called himself a spellbreaker—did that mean he had some way of neutralizing her fire? And that was a very large sword on his back…

“That’s very kind of you, but…”

“I also have a spare tunic you can borrow, if you’re getting cold.”

Emily decided that she would take her chances. If the Stoneshell could save her from Elara and Richard, it could surely keep her safe from this guy. At least for long enough to get her hands on some more clothing.

“Thank you!” Emily said enthusiastically. “Lead the way!”

Dorian smiled, raising an arm to bade Emily out of the chamber. “I had a feeling that might do the trick,” he said. “You remind me of a warrior I used to undertake the occasional job with. She once spent a large amount of gold, and many of her possessions, on a set of armor, enchanted with powerful protective wards. It was sold to her by a shifty traveling merchant, who boasted that she would never find such powerful protective magic at such a low price from anywhere else. But of course, there was a catch.”

Dorian laughed to himself. “The armor had to be worn against the skin for the magic to work, and it was nary more than a couple of plates of mail and twists of wire about the hips and breast. The worst part was she’d sold all her old things to pay for it, and the merchant refused to allow a return. Needless to say, she completed that job in my cloak.”

Emily bit her lip with secondhand embarrassment, even though the armor described was much more substantial than what she’d been wearing when she arrived in Thessolan. At least she wasn’t the only one in this world to suffer these sorts of indignities.

Dorian’s camp site was set up in an alcove a short way down one of the tunnels out of the large central cavern Emily had started in. The site had a tent, some bags with food and other supplies, and the remains of a fire in the middle. Dorian deposited a few fresh logs on the fire pit, and Emily lit it.

“Very useful,” said Dorian, taking a seat on a smooth rock on one side of the fire and offering Emily a stick of cured meat.

Emily sat down on the other side of the fire and chewed while Dorian rummaged through a bag of supplies. “Aha!” he said at last. “Here it is.” He held up a large, shapeless piece of rough brown fabric—the promised tunic.

Emily received the tunic gratefully. While it didn’t look or feel as good as the outfits she’d tried on in the dress shop earlier, it did appear to be big, sturdy and complete enough to cover most of her body. This was something she was learning not to take for granted in the outfits she had been afforded since her arrival in Thessolan.

Motioning towards the tent, Emily asked, “May I…?”

“Why, yes, of course,” Dorian said, looking a little embarrassed. “I’ll stand guard.”

Emily smiled and slipped inside the tent, tunic in hand. Dorian, she noticed, was staring resolutely down the tunnel, but his eyes flickered briefly towards her form as she disappeared behind the flap. He probably thought he was being discreet.

Inside the tent was a bedroll, a curious array of instruments—a salt mill, a short length of multicolored rope, a pewter dish, a handheld mirror and some scattered cloth bags and vials of clear liquid. Next to the bedroll’s pillow, Emily spied an old book with a battered brown cover. Curious, she peaked inside at the title page, which read, “On the Nullification of Arcane Magicks and the Disenchantment of Artifacts: A Compendium for the Journeyman Spellbreaker.”

Her curiosity piqued, Emily wanted nothing more than to sit down and read this book. Aria had occasionally made reference to spellbreaking and disenchantment in their lessons, but had admitted it was a subject she knew little about. Perhaps something in this book could help lift the curse on Aria and the other statues, or even help Emily to reverse the spell that had brought her to Thessolan in the first place.

But Dorian remained stationed just outside the tent, and would certainly say something if Emily spent too long inside, lost in a book. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her rummaging through his things like that either. And, if he proved to be trustworthy, perhaps she could enlist his help directly. It wouldn’t do to start things off on the wrong foot.

Emily quickly untied the knot between her shoulder blades that held her scarf in place and pulled it off. She pushed her head through the top of the tunic and her arms through its sleeves. It came down past her knees and gave the effect of a brown bag. Emily frowned at her reflection in the handheld mirror on the floor—the bag look was perhaps better than nudity, but not by much.

To give the outfit a bit of shape, Emily tied her blue scarf around the waist. Looking at herself in the handheld mirror, Emily judged this to be basically acceptable. She wished, not for the first time, that she did not have to go commando, but it seemed highly unlikely that Dorian would have any ladies’ underwear to hand.

After checking her appearance one more time, taking a moment to smooth her hair down, Emily exited the tent. Being more properly dressed made her feel a bit calmer, more rational. And much less likely to be called a succubus! Though a small voice at the back of her head told her that she was giving up some level of power over Dorian.

Dorian glanced up from his place by the fire, his gaze quickly flickering over her before he offered a small, approving nod. “I wish I had something better to offer you, but you make that ratty old thing look quite beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, blushing very slightly as she sat, ladylike, down on her side of the fire.

Dorian offered her another stick of cured meat. “You mentioned that you were separated from your companions. I have not come across anyone but goblins since I left the surface. They’re not the friendliest of peoples, so I assume that your companions are surface dwellers, like us. Am I correct? How many were you traveling with?”

“Two others,” said Emily, deciding not to get into the subject of Elara. “A human and a wood elf. Their names are Aria and Talyndra.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “And why did you travel down here? The Deep Realms are uncomfortable enough for humans, but for a wood elf the lack of trees and foliage must be pure torture. You must have some great purpose for being here.”

Emily looked away from Dorian’s gaze. “Well… it was kind of an accident, actually. We were in Port Turon earlier today.”

“An accident? I have traveled for months to get this far into the Deep Realm! How can anyone possibly arrive here accidentally?” Dorian looked like someone had slapped him in the face. He scrambled to his bags and dug out a map. “I suppose Port Turon would be somewhere above us, but there’s no known route from there to here! Certainly nothing that would get you here so quickly!”

“It was magic,” Emily said, holding up the Stoneshell pendant. It looked as though she was about to tell Dorian everything. “The Stoneshell was protecting me from someone who wished me harm—it did so by bringing me here. This armband was involved too.” She rolled up her left sleeve to show the Bronzeband. “It grants the wearer power over stone.”

Dorian stared intently at the Stoneshell. “I can believe it, from that. The smell of it is overpowering.”

“Smell?” Emily asked, sniffing at the air, then at the Stoneshell, and then at herself. Was he saying she stunk?

“You wouldn’t be able to detect it,” Dorian replied. “I was born with a sensitivity to magic, a sensitivity that I’ve enhanced through years of Spellbreaker training. I can detect its presence with all of my senses, but smell is the most potent.”

Emily let out a sigh of relief.

“When I look at that necklace,” Dorian continued, “it appears to shimmer faintly, as if shifting between plains. If I listen closely, it makes the sound of ocean waves. The smell is a mixture of sea salt and a most intoxicating perfume.” Dorian then motioned towards the Bronzeband. “That is a less powerful artifact. It smells of fresh earth. But it has a touch of the necklace’s shimmer about it as well.”

“Yes, I noticed a new carving on it shortly after I arrived here.” Emily turned the Bronzeband so that the seashell carving was visible to Dorian. It exactly resembled the Stoneshell.

Dorian examined the Bronzeband carefully. “An artifact that controls other artifacts. Fascinating! May I touch it?”

Emily moved her arm forward, and Dorian knelt before her and ran his fingers across the seashell carving. “Warm to the touch, as I expected. The pendant should feel the same.”

“Feels cold to me,” Emily replied, as she was still holding the Stoneshell in her right hand.

Dorian placed the fingers of his other hand on the Stoneshell, lightly brushing Emily’s. His face was right against hers now. “It is warm to my fingers,” he said, speaking very softly. “A deep, magical warmth, that suffuses the body, creating a feeling of safety and comfort.”

“I think I know what you mean,” Emily whispered. “I’ve felt that, from the Stoneshell, when times were tough.”

“The Stoneshell,” Dorian repeated. He held her gaze for a moment, his piercing blue eyes seeming to penetrate her soul. Then he withdrew. “And what do you call the band?”

“It is the Bronzeband.”

“Simple names, I like them. Many enchanters like to give their artifacts elaborate, pompous titles that oversell their powers. I have a Black Shroud of Eternal Darkness in one of these bags, and it is insufficient even as a curtain.”

“Is that because you disenchanted it?” asked Emily.

Dorian scoffed. “It is hardly worth the energy for something that was barely enchanted in the first place.”

“But you can disenchant things? And break curses? I… saw the book inside your tent.”

Dorian nodded gravely. “I have been a spellbreaker for five years. But if you are afraid that I will disenchant your Stoneshell or Bronzeband while you sleep, rest easy. It is not a simple process, and all but the paltriest artifacts will fight disenchantment.”

Emily frowned. “Well, actually, I was kind of hoping you could help me disenchant the Stoneshell.”

Dorian gasped.

“Partially, I mean,” Emily followed up. “If that’s possible. You see, this necklace has several enchantments on it. I’ve already broken one, which kept some people trapped inside a castle. There’s another one, or maybe it’s another part of the first one, you’d probably know better, that turned those same people into living statues. And the worst part is, they become regular, immobile statues if I ever take the Stoneshell off. Does, uh, any of that make sense?”

Dorian nodded, fixing his eyes on the Stoneshell again. “Multiple enchantments. Of course. It is no wonder, then, that the Stoneshell’s smell so overpowered me.”

“Yes, and I want to remove that part of the enchantment. To make my friends human again, and not dependent on my wearing this necklace all the time. Just that bit—I’d prefer to keep the fire magic and the ability to breath underwater and all the other good stuff the Stoneshell does for me. One of my traveling companions, Aria, is one of the living statues.”

“And you’re sure these represent multiple enchantments?” asked Dorian.

“Quite sure. I have a book all about it—it’s with my companions at the moment, but I can show it to you when we find them. That is, if you think you can help?”

Dorian was silent for a full minute, deep in contemplation. “It is an intriguing challenge. Let me think about it.”

“I can offer payment!” Emily said brightly, remembering that her party finally had some money. “Again, it’s with the others.”

“I could see you didn’t have anything on you.”

Emily blushed lightly, hugging herself to feel the coarse fabric around her. “Thank you again for the tunic.”

“It was the least I could do for a lost and underdressed lady,” said Dorian. “Though I have seen adventurers go around in less. Just about naked, some of them.”

Emily laughed uncomfortably. If only a few more people she’d met in Thessolan had been like Dorian. And if he could help her break the curse that still linked the Stoneshell to Aria and the other statues, there would be no need to visit Paja Abbey. Ever since Aria had mentioned that the mage who cursed them in the first place, Arctulus, had studied there, Emily had felt a knot in her stomach contemplating what might await them there.

The two talked for hours, eating cured meat, dried fruit and biscuits and watching the fire. Emily and Dorian swapped stories of their adventures, though Emily left out a few embarrassing details. Dorian told her of previous quests he’d undertaken, of past companions and of many different parts of Thessolan she was unfamiliar with.

Eventually, when yawns overtook words, Dorian offered Emily the tent and bedroll, making himself comfortable with a few blankets by the now extinguished fire. After exchanging goodnights, Emily entered the tent. She pulled off her boots and undid the knot in her scarf. Then, deciding she would prefer not to spoil her only outfit by sleeping in it, she pulled off the tunic and laid it by the rest of her things, before crawling under the bedroll’s blanket and falling asleep.

Emily awoke fully rested. The bedroll had been surprisingly comfortable, almost as much as the captain’s bed aboard the Sea Serpent, and she stretched luxuriously before sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The tent’s flap was slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to filter through. She dressed quickly in the tunic and scarf, then laced up her boots before stepping outside.

Dorian was already awake, crouched by the now extinguished fire and nibbling on a piece of dried fruit. An oil lantern sat by his feet, its flame flickering slightly. He looked up as Emily emerged from the tent, offering her a smile. “Good morning, Emily. Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you,” she replied, returning his smile.

Emily took a seat beside Dorian and accepted the piece of dried fruit he offered her. As she chewed, her thoughts turned to their conversation from the previous night. “Have you given any more thought to helping me disenchant the Stoneshell?” she asked.

Dorian looked thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It won’t be easy,” he said. “We’ll need to find your companions first, though. And I need to go through that book you mentioned, and see the effect of the curse on your statue friend for myself.”

Emily felt a surge of hope. “Thank you, Dorian. I’ve read the book cover to cover—I think I told you about Zephyr, the author, last night. She reckoned that the curse could be lifted by performing some sort of ritual at a place called Paja Abbey. Aria said that’s where the mage responsible for the whole thing studied.”

“I have visited Paja Abbey. It’s not far from the cave I used to enter the Deep Realm. I’ll accompany you there. But now let us pack up and look for your friends.”

Emily pursed her lips. “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I would hate to put you so much out of your way. Surely you have unfinished business down here? I… don’t believe you’ve actually mentioned why you’re down here, actually, even after giving me the third degree about it!”

“What is this ‘third degree’ you speak of?” Dorian asked, the words unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Uh, interrogating me, I mean!” Emily said. “So many questions!”

Dorian smiled, moving to fold up the tent. “You have a peculiar manner of speech, Miss Emily. Though I’ve traveled all across Thessolan, I’ve never heard anything quite like it. Where did you grow up?”

Emily pouted. “You’re doing it again! Answer my question first, and then I’ll consider revealing that little tidbit.”

“If you insist,” Dorian replied. “I was tasked by the potions master at the very Paja Abbey you speak of to gather some ingredients which are difficult to come by on the surface. One of them being nightmoss, the black growth on the walls of the cavern where we met. I have gathered the requested ingredients now, and am ready to return to my client. So it only makes sense that we travel together—so long as my company is welcome, of course.”

Emily wrinkled her brow in thought. Dorian appeared perfectly sincere, but it was a surprising coincidence. But perhaps this had been why the Stoneshell had brought her here in the first place. She was fast coming to appreciate that it held a much deeper magic than the ability to summon fire. As if in response to her rumination, she felt a comforting warmth against her chest, where the Stoneshell pendant rested.

“It is welcome, of course,” she told Dorian. “I hope you will find your payment adequate.”

Dorian had packed the tent up and put all of his supplies together in a large bag which he now slung onto his back. His large sword was tied to the back of it. Following a final inspection of the erstwhile campsite, he began trudging further down the tunnel, oil lamp held in front of him, motioning for Emily to follow. “For the first installment, I will accept payment in information,” he said, winking. “I am very curious to know about your hometown, or village. Does everyone there use these strange expressions, like ‘third degree’?”

“I grew up in a town called Greenville,” Emily said, quite truthfully, as she caught up to him. “It’s very far away from here—not in Thessolan at all, really.”

Dorian’s eyes widened. “Outside of Thessolan? Across the Illian Sea? Or on the other side of Rath’s Desert? I admit I have not heard of this Greenville—perhaps it is on the surface of the Near Moon.” There was a hint of mockery in his tone.

“It’s not in any of those places—I don’t think,” Emily said. “You can’t get from there to here except by magic. Or at least, that’s how I got here. How I ended up in Castle Elid, which had been closed to the world of Thessolan by the curse I broke through taking up the Stoneshell.”

“I had wondered about that,” said Dorian, flatly. “This is all quite extraordinary, though, you must admit.”

“Imagine how I felt! In my world, we don’t have magic! It’s the stuff of fairy tales and superstition! Or so I used to think, anyway.”

“No magic…” Dorian repeated. “What a strange and dull place that must be.”

“It has its charm. I’d like to go back there again, I think, once I’ve helped the statues. My friends and family must be worried sick. I just don’t know how. Aria told me when we met that we could find help in Lirethel, from the mages and scholars there.”

Dorian nodded. “If anyone will know how to travel between worlds, it’ll be someone there. You can find anything in Lirethel, they say.”

“That’s encouraging.”

Dorian and Emily walked a little further in silence before Dorian spoke up again. “I hope that your companion are staying in one place—it will be much more difficult to find them if they’re moving around. Unless… do you have any personal effects of either of them with you? I know a few simple locating spells we might be able to use.”

Emily was about to remind Dorian that he’d found her with little more than a scarf and a pair of boots to her name when she had another thought. “The Stoneshell,” she said. “Whenever I remove the Stoneshell, Aria becomes a real statue, unable to move. That implies a connection, doesn’t it? Do you think we could locate her with a spell on the Stoneshell?”

Dorian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That may work. Let me find my location ring.” He removed the large pack from his back and started rummaging through it, eventually producing a small silver ring, which he slid the onto the middle finger of his right hand.

“Now Emily,” he began gravely, looking Emily in the eyes with a singular intensity. “Locating spells like this are usually cast on mundane items—an item of clothing, a prized possession, a lock of hair. To cast one on a magical artifact is a more fraught process. Not only because of the artifact’s own magic, but because of the increased complexity of its relationship to the located party. There is bound to interference, but you can minimize it. I am going to touch this ring to the Stoneshell. I need you to command it not to react. Use your channel of influence over the artifact to make it inert, if only for a second.”

Emily took a deep breath as she pulled the Stoneshell pendant out from under her tunic. “I’ll try,” she said, closing her eyes tightly.

She focused her mind on calming thoughts. In her mind’s eye, she saw small waves lapping on the shore of a beach, a gentle breeze fluttering the leaves of an old oak tree. She saw her childhood bedroom, complete with the pink cat nightlight. She willed her breath to deepen and her heartbeats to slow, something she’d often practised with Aria. The Stoneshell felt cool against her chest, and she gave Dorian a thumbs-up.

The slightest noise indicated the touch of Dorian’s ring against the Stoneshell. Emily felt the briefest tingling sensation, but put it out of her mind at once, focusing on the image of a clouds drifting lazily across a pale blue sky on a lazy summer’s day.

Then her stomach lurched as the world turned upside-down.

Emily’s eyes shot open. Cold panic gripped her as she tried to make sense of the scene before her eyes. Dorian stood before her with a blank expression on his upside-down face, and beside him stood another upside-down figure—someone small and green, with beady black eyes.

But it wasn’t Dorian or the goblin who was upside-down. It was Emily. She felt the pressure of a rope around her ankles, suspending her from the cavern ceiling. The bottom of her tunic bunched up around the scarf she’d tied at her midsection, exposing everything from the top of her boots to her navel. But right now, that was the least of her worries.

Emily realized too late that she had placed her trust in the wrong person. Hot tears welled up in her eyes as she glared at Dorian, who studiously looked down at the ground as he scattered white powder from a small brown bag.

She wanted to shout a million angry words at him, but was so furious that her mouth was unable to form even one. With an incoherent scream, she punched out with one fist to shoot a fireball at him. But no fire came. A familiar, reassuring weight was absent from the back of her neck, and this made her feel even more naked than her exposed bottom half.

The Stoneshell lay on the ground beneath her, its chain pooled around the pendant. She attempted to summon it, but it did not respond. She tried harder. “Hnnng!” Emily grunted with effort, her muscles visibly tightening, but still the Stoneshell made no movement.

“I’m very impressed, Mister Blackwood,” said the goblin, reaching a hand down towards the Stoneshell.

“No!” shouted Dorian, grabbing his wrist.

The goblin snarled with anger, and Emily’s heart lit up with a brief flicker of hope.

“Not yet,” Dorian continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Give it time to settle.”

Emily now noticed that the white powder Dorian had been scattering was salt, and he’d used it to form a circle around the Stoneshell. She had a vague recollection of the salt circle as a tool to stop magic. Was that what was preventing her from summoning the Stoneshell? How could something so simple contain its power?

“If I must,” grumbled the goblin, taking a small step back. “I’m watching you, Blackwood. I must have this artifact—such were the terms you agreed to. And I am not known for my patience.”

“Allow another minute for the circle to settle,” Dorian said. “Then you’ll have your precious artifact.” He spat these words from his lips with barely concealed contempt.

“Why, Dorian?” Emily asked, her voice shaking. Her whole body had gone limp, and was swaying slightly from the rope. “I trusted you!”

The goblin cackled, but Dorian remained silent, studiously avoiding eye contact.

“Worry not, girl,” said the goblin. “Your trinket will do the Deep Realm a great service.”

Emily stared down hatefully at the circle of salt around the Stoneshell. After everything she’d been through and all her training, she had been defeated by a condiment—one that wasn’t even unique to Thessolan. A small, fragile circle of salt separated her from the awesome power that could make her tormentors wish they’d never met her. How absurd it was! A small, fragile circle of salt…

Suddenly, an idea dawned on her. Eyes widening with realization, Emily sucked in a deep breath. Then she expelled a jet of air, directly on one side of the salt circle.

A cloud of sand, dust and salt burst from the ground, stinging Emily’s eyes. She ignored the pain, focusing on the Stoneshell. On vengeance. On fire.

The goblin shrieked as a massive ball of flame erupted from the ground, filling the tunnel in a dazzling instant. There was a scuffle as he and Dorian scrambled back, both falling hard on the ground. “Stop her!” screamed the goblin.

Flames were all around Emily as her tunic burned around her, but the Stoneshell’s fire left her skin and hair untouched. The pendant now hung suspended in the air, in the middle of a salt circle that was more broken than whole.

A flash of light hit Emily in the eye. Dorian held a handheld mirror at his waist, which he was rapidly tilting between Emily and the Stoneshell. And the Stoneshell began to fall.

As Emily attempted to summon another burst of fire, something solid made contact with the back of her skull and everything went black. The last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was the goblin’s cackle.

Darkness. Laughter. Harsh whispers. The feeling of falling, of being dragged, of being thrown around. Skin against sand and stone.

When Emily awoke once more, she immediately wished she hadn’t. Her body ached all over, her throat was terribly dry, and stubborn bits of sand clung to her eyes. It was dark and she was standing with her back against a stone wall. Cold steel manacles held her wrists suspended above her head, preventing her from sitting or even kneeling. She was completely naked, without her boots, the Bronzeband, or even her hair-tie. And, of course, without the Stoneshell.

“Did you sleep well?” asked a horribly familiar voice, instantly making her situation feel a thousand times worse.

Chained to the opposite wall was an older woman with jet black hair, quite as naked as Emily, but wearing a cruel smile nonetheless. It was Elara.

“W-what?” Emily stammered through parched lips.

Elara sighed. “It would seem that the goblins in this part of the Deep Realm are not greatly enamored with mages. They call us evil, and blame every little thing that goes wrong in their lives on magic. Anyone suspected of doing magic is immediately thrown in this dungeon. As it is well known that all human magic relies on held and worn artifacts, they have also stripped us. Though I can’t imagine there was much to strip off in your case.”

Emily made a face. “You seem very calm about this.”

Elara narrowed her eyes. “If you were a real mage, like I am, you would know that there are no setbacks, only opportunities. From where I’m standing, the goblins have done me a great service by imprisoning you. All I have to do now is break out of this silly little prison, and collect my Stoneshell from wherever they’re keeping it. This brief indignity is a small price to pay.”

“Then why haven’t you broken out already?”

“Another thing any real mage knows is patience, my dear little slut. My fairies are on their way to free me as we speak. While I wait, I will take the leisure to enjoy rubbing your face in it, after all the inconvenience you’ve caused me.”

“You tried to kill me!”

Elara rolled her eyes. “Oh come now, you must have known the risks when you chose to defy me the first time. I could have given you a very comfortable life on my estate, but you would rather traipse all over Thessolan in nothing but a pair of boots, playing with forces you can’t possibly control. Teasing boys with your supple little body and then burning them when they got too close, no doubt.”

“I have done nothing of the sort!” Emily screamed, her face red.

“Regardless, it’s all over now. I’m not sure what goblins do to magic users after they put them in the dungeon, but I don’t think it’s very nice. Nasty creatures, goblins. Twisted by hiding from the sunlight. Though too much sunlight on the body can also be a bad thing, as you so love to demonstrate.”

Emily said nothing. If she stopped responding, Elara would eventually get tired of taunting her, and then she could have some peace to figure out just exactly how in the hell she was going to get out of this situation.

“Oh don’t look so worried, my dear girl,” Elara continued. “The goblins are a civilized race. I’m sure they’ll give you a fair trial. Tomorrow morning, when I’m on my way back to the surface, Stoneshell in hand, they’ll take you down from there and lead you to the courtroom. Completely naked of course, with a nice pair of manacles.”

Thoughts of being paraded down a dark underground street, jeered at on both sides by goblin hordes, came unbidden to Emily’s mind. She struggled to shake them off.

“I don’t think they’ll give you anything to wear. It’s far too dangerous to place potentially magical items in the possession of a mage. That’s their philosophy.”

Images of standing in a court room, before a goblin judge, her hands held fast behind her back, helpless and naked. Emily imagined pleading her case to unsympathetic ears, and the judge pronouncing a sentence. She imagined rough goblin hands leading her away…

“But you won’t mind that too much, I’m sure. Perhaps you’ll even enjoy it when the goblins sentence you to servitude in one of their nasty little hovels, cooking and cleaning and attending to… other needs…”

If she didn’t focus on escaping, what Elara was saying and what she was imagining would could true. Emily shuddered, ignoring Elara and mentally taking stock of her situation. She was in a goblin dungeon deep underground, wrists chained to the wall, with no magical artifacts. The last time she’d been in a comparable situation, she’d at least had Talyndra, a friend who’d helped her summon the Stoneshell. Could she do it again, without Talyndra’s help? Where was the Stoneshell now?

Whatever Dorian had done to prevent Emily from summoning the Stoneshell surely couldn’t have been permanent. He’d admitted himself that the it was far too powerful an artifact for him to disenchant. Unless he’d been lying about that. The pang of betrayal was still raw.

Her thoughts, and Elara’s musings, were disturbed by the sound of the door to the dungeon bursting open. Emily gazed frightfully at the open door, and a strangled cry escaped Elara’s throat. Was it already time for their trial? That Elara might share her fate was cold comfort.

Light flooded in, and a tall figure strode in from outside. It was Dorian. He set his mouth in a hard line in an attempt to hide the immense sadness that welled in his eyes as he walked slowly, deliberately, towards Emily.

Somewhere in the background, Elara squealed, contorted her body to avoid the gaze of a man who had not even registered her presence.

A confused mess of emotions boiled inside Emily’s chest, and she felt ready to burst. Anger at his betrayal, confusion at his presence, shame at standing before him without a single thread of clothing. Again, her emotions were too strong for words.

He stood before her, motionless without a word. But his deep blue eyes told a story of deep anguish and regret.

This was not enough to stop Emily from lashing out with a knee, which Dorian’s crotch narrowly avoided as he quickly stepped back. He did not, however, avoid the gob of spit Emily lobbed directly at his eyes. “Ah!” he cried. But then he was calm.

Dorian opened his eyes again and locked them with Emily’s, his serious expression incongruous beneath the dripping saliva. “I brought you something,” he said. From a fold in his cloak, he produced the Bronzeband.

Emily shook the chains on her wrists angrily.

“Lift your leg,” said Dorian.

Emily paused for a moment, not wanting to part her tightly clasped thighs, but then relented. Gingerly, she lifted her left foot, then extended her whole left leg in front of her, blushing.

Dorian knelt down before her and slipped the Bronzeband over her foot, then pushed it up until it felt secure on her ankle, keeping his other hand on her heel to hold her leg steady.

“I’d prefer not to be the audience for this,” said Elara.

Dorian released Emily’s leg and stepped back, ignoring Elara. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Victus—the goblin you saw earlier—is on the other side of town, where the nightmoss grows the thickest. He has the Stoneshell with him.”

“Why should I trust you?” Emily asked. “Why did you take the Stoneshell from me? Why are you trying to help now? Why are you doing any of this?”

“I made a mistake,” Dorian said, his voice cracking with pain. “It’s all a misunderstanding. A big, horrible misunderstanding. I’ll explain it all later.”

“What makes you think there’s going to be a later?” Emily spat.

Dorian’s shoulders slumped. “If that’s how you feel, I understand. I’ve given you the means to escape, and I’ve told you where to find the Stoneshell. I’m sorry for getting you into this. You won’t see any more of me.”

Dorian took one last, long look at Emily before turning around and leaving the dungeon, closing the door behind him.

“There’s no accounting for taste, I suppose,” said Elara, some minutes later. “He is quite handsome, if none too smart. Is that your type? What am I saying, of course you’re not that selective!”

Emily ignored the remark. All her focus was on the Bronzeband, and the power it gave her over stone. Since Dorian had left, she had been singularly focused on crumbling the area of wall to which her right manacle was attached. Sweat poured from her brow, and her stomach rose and fell with exertion, but she heard the sweet, sweet sound of shifting rock.

“What is that bauble he’s given you, anyway? I don’t recognize it.”

Finally, there was clang as the manacle fell to the ground. Emily sighed with relief as her right shoulder relaxed for the first time in hours. Immediately, she set to work on the left manacle.

“What was that?” Elara asked. “You—what? No!”

“Shut up!” Emily hissed, focusing ever more intensely on the wall above her left manacle. It was slow going, but felt slightly easier than the right had been. In a few minutes, the end of the chain fell with a satisfying clang.

Emily stepped forward, flexing her fingers and then rubbing each of her wrists, as much as she could with the manacles still attached. For the moment, she would have to carrying them around, along with her chains, but at least now she could move from the wall.

She cast a sidelong glance at Elara, who glared at her. “I don’t suppose—”

“Not a chance,” Emily snapped. “I’m sure those fairies will be along eventually. What was it you were telling me about patience?”

Elara muttered something unintelligible as she watched Emily saunter towards the door. As both prisoners had been chained to the wall, there had been no need to lock it, so it swung open just as easily for Emily as it had for Dorian. After a quick check that the space beyond was clear of goblin guards, Emily blew a sarcastic kiss at Elara and slipped through, closing the door behind her.

Crouching low, Emily moved quickly and quietly along the walls of the hallway, clasping the ends of her manacles in her hands to prevent them from banging into things.

The place she now found herself was an odd mixture of a built up structure and a natural cave. Straight, uniform walls built of stone bricks met natural cave walls, and the area was dimly lit by sparsely placed lamps on the walls. After a few turns, she came out into a much larger cavern. Feeling exposed, she quickly hid behind a large rock formation, peeking around it carefully to see the lay of the land.

What appeared to be an entire goblin town stretched before her. The cavern was vast, with many layers and levels of goblin buildings all around it, light shining from their windows. A bewildering array of walkways, and staircases stretched across the town in all directions, fully using the three dimensional space. It was confusing to look at, and reminded Emily strongly of an MC Escher painting. Squat green goblins scurried this way and that along the walkways.

Dorian had said that the goblin who’d taken possession of the Stoneshell was on the other side of town, somewhere with thick nightmoss. From what Emily could see, the town extended to every side of the massive cavern, with some structures even built into its walls. That meant she would need to go through the town to get to Victus and the Stoneshell.

But how exactly was she, a naked human woman, trailing manacles from her arms, supposed to move through a goblin town unnoticed? In her huddled position behind the rocks, Emily brought her knees into her chest and cursed Dorian. Apart from the massive relief of not having to listen to Elara’s taunts, she was hardly better off now than she had been before.

After allowing herself a few minutes of moping, Emily decided she would tackle one problem at a time. Starting with the manacles. Taking a deep breath, she focused on a pair of slightly sharp rocks.

Over the next hour, Emily channeled the Bronzeband’s magic to reshape the rocks and smash them with increasing force against the clasps of the manacles. Eventually, the left gave way, followed by the right. Emily rubbed her sore wrists with relief, and allowed herself some much needed rest, sprawled against the rocks. She was finally beginning to feel a degree of comfort and competence with the Bronzeband.

Emily could now turn her mind to the next problem—getting across the goblin town without attracting too much attention. At the very least, she was going to need some clothes. A knot formed in her stomach as she contemplated how difficult this recurring and seemingly simple problem had been to solve in the past.

Something rustled on the other side of the rocks. Adrenaline spiked in Emily’s veins, and every muscle in her body tensed. With an outstretched hand, she commanded a small stone to levitate in front of her, ready to meet her assailant.

A green face framed with dark hair poked around the rocks, smiling wide. It wasn’t a goblin.

“Emily!” cried Talyndra. “I’ve found you at last!”

The floating stone fell to the ground, and Talyndra darted forward to embrace Emily. She was dressed in a large brown cloak that seemed to swallow up her tiny form. “I’ve been hiding here, pretending to be a goblin. As long as I don’t let anyone look at my face too long, it works,” she said. “When Aria stopped moving, I knew you were in trouble. Then I heard a rumor about a pair of captured human magic users. But by the time I reached the dungeon, only Elara was there. Good to see her all strung up like she deserves, mind.”

“She told me that her fairies were coming to free her,” said Emily. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of her, sadly—that dungeon is not very well guarded.”

Talyndra smirked. “Goblins are lazy like that. Impossible to get them to watch or guard anything for long. They put their trust in craftsmanship—too much, by the looks of it.” She gestured at the pair of destroyed manacles in the corner. “How’d you do that?”

Emily smiled and pointed downwards, indicating the Bronzeband on her ankle.

“Thank you, Captain Richard,” Talyndra snarked. “But where is the Stoneshell?”

“It was taken by a goblin named Victus,” Emily said darkly. “He’s on the other side of town, in a place where nightmoss grows.”

“Is that a black moss that grows on cavern walls?” Talyndra asked. “I know where that is. But… how do you know he’s there?”

“I had help,” Emily replied. “It’s… complicated.”

Talyndra nodded curtly. “Tell me the whole thing later. Right now, the Stoneshell must be returned to its rightful owner.”

“Could you use your magic again, like you did on the ship?”

Talyndra shook her head. “This town is too large and complicated for that. We’ll have to face this Victus head on. That’ll be more fun, anyway.”

Emily gave her a distressed look.

“No dirt-eating necklace-stealing snivelling worm of a goblin will get the better of us!” Talyndra declared, making fists with both hands. Then she paused to take a long, sympathetic look at Emily. “You need some clothes. I had a feeling you might, so I came prepared.”

Talyndra shrugged off the large cloak she was wearing, revealing another slightly smaller cloak of the same kind underneath. “It was really hot under all that!” she said, handing the larger cloak to Emily.

“Good thinking.” Emily pulled the cloak around her body and did up the row of wooden fasteners at the front.

“These too,” Talyndra continued, deflating the front of her cloak as she pulled out a pair of brown boots. “You’re tall and not green, so you’ll need to hunch down and avoid showing any skin. Stay close to me and we should be fine.”

Stepping into her newest pair of brown boots, Emily felt that she would like nothing better than to avoid showing any skin. If she could just do that for the rest of her time in Thessolan, that would be fine by her. She flipped the hood of the cloak up over her head and knelt forward in her best imitation of a frail, hunched old woman.

Talyndra surveyed the disguise and then nodded slowly. “Let’s go. Keep quiet and follow me.”

The streets of the goblin town were not overly crowded, but once Talyndra and Emily left the shelter of the rock formation, they were seldom alone. Goblins of all ages and professions roamed the multilevel streets, and Talyndra and Emily did their best to avoid eye contact with the squat denizens. For her part, Talyndra passed for a tall goblin, and Emily, as long as she kept her hunch, for a very tall goblin. Standing at her full height of five foot four, Emily would have towered over the entire population of town, a fact which made her feel very conspicuous.

“I saw the black moss past the wall closest to the market district,” Talyndra said, pulling Emily’s arm behind her.

Emily cringed as they entered the town’s market district, a buzzing hive of stands and crowds. Merchants boast of the quality of their goods and the lowness of their prices, and customers loudly haggled with them. Emily held Talyndra’s hand tightly as they weaved through the throng, studiously ignoring the array of of foodstuffs, clothing, blankets, potions, incense, jewelry, weapons and other assorted goods offered to them by eager goblin merchants.

There was a sudden pull on the back of Emily’s cloak and she stopped dead. Ahead of her, Talyndra’s feet scrambled for purchase, and she almost lost her footing. Regaining her balance, Talyndra crouched down and shot a worried look back at Emily. Both of them turned to the source of the pull.

A fat goblin merchant with a fake smile and a hungry look in his eyes stood just behind Emily, his foot planted on the hem of her cloak. “Ladies, ladies, how are you enjoying the market this fine day? Please forgive me for the interruption, but I would never forgive myself if I did not take the opportunity to share with you some rare and exotic items that have recently come into my possession.”

“Thank you, but we don’t have time for—” Talyndra began, speaking in a deeper than usual voice.

“Oh but you must give me chance!” the merchant continued. “It is not every market day that I have the pleasure of encountering such elegant, willowy beauties, and I can see from the state of your cloaks that you are not well served by my colleagues. Ladies with your statures must struggle mightily to find well-fitted, flattering outfits—I know the pain well, for my wife is about your height.”

The merchant gestured grandly at a pair of dresses hanging behind his stand. “These beautiful pieces are specially imported all the way from the surface, every stitch lovingly sewn by human tailors!”

“Thank you, but we have enough—”

The merchant rolled back his head with hearty, performative laughter. “Oh, a lady can never have enough outfits! But we can come back to that, perhaps you will only be convinced when I show you the jewelry that goes with the outfit. Madame, let me give you these earrings to try on, I am sure you will love them!”

It was already too late when Emily registered the presence of the merchant’s hand on her hood. With a flourish, he pulled the hood back and held a pair of earrings up to the pale white skin of Emily’s cheek.

For a moment, the world froze. Emily looked into the merchant’s beady black eyes, silently pleading with him. But it was no use. There was a lull in the usual noise and bustle of the market as every eye turned to Emily.

“Human!” shouted the merchant. “Escaped human mage!”

The crowd surged around Emily and Talyndra, and all was thrown into chaos. Hands grabbed at Emily’s cloak from every angle, and all around goblins cried, “Human! Escaped prisoner! Magic user! She’ll curse you!”

“Run!” screamed Talyndra, who was already punching any goblin reckless enough to step to close to her fists.

Emily pulled out of the hunch, drawing up to her full height so that she towered over the goblin throng. Forcing herself to calm down and focus on the ring of bronze around her ankle, she willed the cobblestones around her to spring up and knock the goblins off-balance. A few did as she commanded, including ones underneath her feet, causing her to stumble. But it was enough to clear a path, and she took off running.

“Magic! Magic! Remove her magic!” the goblins shrieked, redoubling their efforts to catch her. She felt hands grab at her cloak and heard the sound of it tearing and ripping as she ran, the fasteners popping off the fabric and scattering before her. This, of course, did nothing to prevent her from using magic—the source of her power was hidden beneath the top of her left boot, a far more difficult target for grabbing goblin hands. But it did reveal her ankles, and then most of her thighs, as she ran.

Ahead, she saw Talyndra, who held out a hand for her. She focused on running, and on disturbing the cobblestones behind her with the Bronzeband’s magic. Goblins screamed and cursed, and more and more of her cloak was torn away from her body, until it was little more than a ragged cape, streaming behind her.

“There’s the town wall!” Talyndra shouted, pointing at a wall that they were fast approaching. She steered Emily towards the entrance, a large archway over which a wrought iron gate was quickly descending. “They’re closing us in! Hurry!”

Emily shook off the last of her pursuers by making the cobblestones behind her rise up in wave, knocking them all off their feet and into each other. Talyndra was already through the gate, and there was just enough space for Emily to squeeze underneath it, if she dove.

She dove, clearing the entrance just as the gate slammed shut behind her, and rolling across the cave floor. There had been a brief tug at her neck, and she glanced back to see the last scraps of her cloak speared on the bottom of the gate. Once again, she was naked but for her boots.

“The tunnels!” Talyndra commanded, grabbing hold of Emily’s hand once more. “Up ahead, the tunnels are covered in nightmoss. We’ll find this Victus guy there!”

Talyndra and Emily sprinted for the entrance to the nearest tunnel, which was indeed fully suffused with nightmoss. The walls, ceiling and even floor were coated with a thick layer of it, muffling the sound of their footfalls.

“There’s a light up ahead,” Talyndra said, pointing at a faint swirl of strange, colorful lights at the end of the tunnel. “That must be our guy.” The nightmoss was growing ever thicker. In the areas were it was thickest, it seemed to lose its normal plantlike consistency and turn into a wet sludge, almost like tar.

Had Emily and Talyndra not been running on adrenaline, they may have considered a more cautious approach. Or at least, Emily might have, especially considering her state of undress. As things were, they burst out of the tunnel at a sprinting pace and locked eyes with Victus.

The goblin was standing in the middle of a circular chamber, surrounded on all sides by nightmoss so thick that it entirely obscured the stone behind it. He wore a clean white robe and stood before a stone altar. Three items were arranged in a line on the altar, inside a circle of salt. On the right, a silver dagger. On the left, a chainmail glove. And in the middle, a gray seashell necklace.

Streams of multicolored light swirled above the altar, and Victus was making a series of complicated gestures with with hands and muttering incomprehensibly. He froze as his eyes made contact with Talyndra and Emily.

“Stop!” Victus shouted. “You’ll ruin everything!”

But Emily couldn’t stop. She barrelled forward, running and then wading through the nightmoss, which tickled her ankles, and then her knees, and then her thighs. As she moved further, the feeling of the moss turned to a thick mud. She kept her eyes locked on the Stoneshell.

Victus gasped as a crack appeared in the center of his stone altar. Emily saw the crack too, and realized that she had made it appear. Her bond with the Bronzeband was growing.

“Please, stop at once!” pleaded Victus. “You have no idea what you’re doing!”

But it was too late. Emily stood on the other side of the altar, glaring hatefully at him. Her right arm shot forward, and her hand closed around the Stoneshell.

Immediately, the altar, Emily and Victus disappeared. There was a loud, wet plopping sound as they sunk beneath the nightmoss. Emily sucked in a breath just before the moss covered her head.

“Emily!” screamed Talyndra. She stood at the edge of the chamber, the moss only coming up to her ankles.

Below her, Emily was calm and warm. Moss tickled her ears, almost seeming to whisper to her.

“Am I too late?” cried a voice behind Talyndra.

Before Emily’s eyes, the moss turned from black to orange to purple, and made living patterns all around her. She thought she heard a strangled cry, but it seemed far away.

Talyndra turned to the source of the voice. It was a human man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. His teeth were gritted in a pained expression, and he was brandishing a large sword.

The moss loved Emily. The moss wanted to protect her.

“Who’re you?” asked Talyndra of the strange man behind her.

The moss promised to clothe Emily, to shield her from the harsh gaze of the outside world.

“A friend,” said Dorian. “Where’s Emily?”

The moss promised to stay with her always.

Talyndra gestured ahead of her, but nothing was visible in the deep concentration of pure black nightmoss. The colored lights had disappeared, and now the only source of light in the chamber was an oil lamp held in Dorian’s left hand. “She… it… the moss ate her!”

The moss made Emily feel warm, and safe, and happy.

The whole cave began to shake and rumble. Then there was a loud belching sound, and a flood of light from the center.

“Emily!” Talyndra shouted.

Where the stone altar had been moments earlier, Emily now stood. The pool of black mossy sludge came up to her thighs, and bits of it clung to her arms, hips, stomach and breasts, creating the impression of a very bold fashion choice. She stood completely still and stared at Talyndra and Dorian with a blank expression. The Stoneshell hung around her neck, glowing faintly.

“Emily!” Talyndra cried again, wading towards her friend. Emily wasn’t moving, but when Talyndra reached her, she felt the reassuring feeling of a warm pulse and heard the sound of shallow breath.

“Let me help,” said Dorian, who had put away his sword and also waded into the moss.

Holding each of her arms, Talyndra and Dorian pulled Emily out of the deepest part of the nightmoss, towards the edge of the chamber. As they moved, the moss covering her body flaked off and fell, sparking with orange light as it was absorbed into the main body. Eventually, only a few spots of moss remained, clinging to the soles of Emily’s boots.

Lying on the floor at the mouth of the tunnel, where the moss was no deeper than a lawn, Emily blinked a few times and appeared to return to her senses.

“What happened?” Talyndra asked.

“I’m… not quite sure,” said Emily, rising to seated. She moved her head slowly, looking around her, and patted the moss around her. “But I think it’s all okay now. I have the Stoneshell again and Victus is… gone.”

“Thank the gods!” exclaimed Dorian.

Emily scowled. “And no thank you, Dorian. You got me into this mess!”

“You what?” asked Talyndra, glaring at Dorian. “Just say the word, Emily, and I will cast the nastiest wood elf magic I know on this rapscallion!”

Dorian raised his hands in front of his face defensively. “And I have only started to atone! Please, let me explain…”

Emily crossed her arms. “This better be…” The feeling of skin against skin derailed her thoughts. “Uh, maybe you can give me some privacy first.”

Dorian blushed deeply and slammed a hand in front of his eyes. “Of course! My sincerest apologies!”

“I don’t suppose you have another cloak to spare,” Emily said to Talyndra.

“You can have mine,” said Dorian, shrugging his cloak off and then holding it out with one hand, his eyes still firmly shut. His blue shirt was worn and threadbare.

Emily took the cloak and draped it over her front. It was warm, soft, and lined on the inside with dozens of little pockets.

“I need to go back to the town to fetch Aria from the room we rented,” said Talyndra. “I also bought a bunch of clothes from the market while I was undercover.”

“I’m glad I left the money with you,” Emily replied. “But wait… won’t that be dangerous? Actually, why aren’t the townsfolk still coming after us?”

“Goblins are deathly afraid of nightmoss, due to its magical properties,” added Dorian. “They would never follow us in here.”

“I should be able to slip back in unnoticed,” said Talyndra. “They were all paying a lot more attention to you. Emily, will you be okay if I leave you alone with this guy?”

“Yes,” Emily said. “Thank you, Talyndra. Dorian has some things to explain to me, anyway.”

Talyndra smiled at Emily and cast a sidelong glance at Dorian. “Try anything funny, and she’ll burn your face off,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

With that, Talyndra scampered down the tunnel towards the town, and Emily and Dorian were left alone.

“Victus didn’t seem to be afraid of the nightmoss,” Emily said. “I wonder what he was doing that he needed the Stoneshell. And also why you helped him steal it.”

“Can I look yet?” Dorian asked.

“Yes, you may.” Emily pulled the cloak tighter around her body as Dorian removed his hand from his eyes. “Well?” she asked, holding his gaze.

“It’s, uh, kind of embarrassing, to be honest,” Dorian said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “One of the ingredients I need for my client at Paja Abbey is something called flitroot. It only grows in a much deeper, even less accessible part of the Deep Realm. A very dangerous place for human beings, needless to say. Even goblins don’t often go there.”

Dorian produced a small bag from a pouch on his belt, untied it, and showed Emily its contents—a small, dried plant, with no distinguishing features. “Doesn’t look like much, but it’s a very useful potion ingredient. Anyway, I was buying some other supplies from Victus—he’s a merchant—and we got onto the subject of potion ingredients. He told me that he had a small supply of flitroot, and I immediately jumped at the chance to spare myself the danger of gathering it from the source. But when I asked him for a price, he immediately changed the subject.”

Dorian sighed. “I pressed the issue, but he proved unwilling to quote a figure. Said he regretted we ever got onto the subject, and that he wasn’t willing to part with the flitroot. I left the issue there, and continued with other business. But later on in our conversation, I let it slip that I’m a spellbreaker. That changed his whole attitude, and he went back to his storeroom and fetched some flitroot for me.”

Dorian returned the flitroot bag to his pocket. “In exchange for the flitroot, he told me in hushed tones, I was to bring him a magical artifact of great power. Magical artifacts of any sort are quite difficult to come by in the Deep Realm, as the goblin authorities routinely destroy any they come across. So I thought he would be happy with even a trinket, and I offered him my locating ring. This wasn’t good enough, so we went through everything else. But even my Eversharp Claymore wasn’t good enough.” Dorian gestured at the sword on his back.

“In the end, I almost left empty-handed. But in the end, Victus offered me a deal. He would give me the flitroot in advance, in exchange for a quest—I was to locate a sufficiently powerful magical artifact, use my spellbreaker abilities to secure it, and bring it to him.”

“Is that why you offered to help me?” asked Emily, narrowing her eyes.

“No,” Dorian replied, the sad, regretful expression returning to his face. “I’d actually forgotten about the deal, to be honest with you. I’ve spent the last month in a different part of the Deep Realm, and only just come back this way. Please believe me when I say that stealing your Stoneshell was the last thing on my mind when I encountered you by that pool.”

“That’s not how it felt when I was hanging by my ankle and you were scattering salt around me,” Emily said.

“I didn’t expect Victus to be trailing me!” Dorian cried. “Believe me, he surprised me just as much as he did you, sneaking up just as I was about to cast that locating spell. He told me he’d been watching us. Once he made it clear that he wanted me to fulfil my side of the bargain with the Stoneshell, I had to think and act fast.”

“Don’t remind me,” Emily said.

Dorian’s expression clouded with frustration. “Under goblin dominion, the punishment for doing magic, or even holding magical artifacts is severe. Had I refused Victus’s request, he would have set the authorities on both of us. Our artifacts and other belongings would have been confiscated, and we would both have been thrown in that dungeon, and then executed.”

“So you decided to save yourself,” Emily retorted.

“So that I could save both of us.”

Silence reigned in the nightmoss cavern as Emily and Dorian regarded each other. He was the most reckless and inconsiderate man she had ever met.

Eventually, Emily said, “Just… let me in on the plan next time.”

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. “Next time?”

“You’re going to apologize to me by guiding me and my friends out of these horrible caves, and taking us to Paja Abbey. Then you’re going to help me break the curse on Aria. After that, I will consider forgiving you.”

Dorian smiled. “It will be my honor.”

Emily held out a hand for Dorian to shake, and he took it, helping her up into a standing position, and then shaking it firmly. Emily brushed some moss from her butt before wrapping his cloak more firmly around her body.