Valgrin rounded the corner, his boots scuffing against the floorboards as he approached the table. Malcolm's eyes crinkled at the corners.

  "Took you long enough."

  Valgrin propped himself against the nearest chair, arms loosely folded. “Couple of things,” he said. “Figured you two might need a moment, and that ‘secret’ staircase of Izzy's…" He wiggled his fingers in the air.

  Malcolm's lip twitched as he fought back a laugh. "Did you seriously just do air quotes?"

  “Well.” Valgrin grinned, letting the word stretch. “That ‘secret’ passage? More traffic than the main stairs. Half the staff uses it. Not to mention folks like us.”

  "So it's selectively secret. Got it."

  Valgrin straightened his spine and lifted one finger skyward like a professor mid-lecture. "Also worth noting, that staircase connects her upstairs bedroom directly to this one." He pointed back the corner he’d just come around. "Hence the knocking. Wouldn't want to barge in at an…inopportune moment."

  Malcolm’s hands flew up, face flushed to the tips of his ears. “Nothing was happening!”

  Valgrin's eyebrow arched as he studied Malcolm's reddening face. "Never said it was. Could've been changing clothes or…" He let the sentence dangle.

  "Right." Malcolm dropped his gaze to the table, fingers drumming against the wood.

  “Speaking of you two, where’s the other one?” Valgrin asked, glancing around the room.

  “Oh, she went upstairs to order supper for us and make sure all is well.” Malcolm’s mouth twisted as he cocked his head slightly. “She’s been gone long enough for that, maybe we should go up and try to rescue her.”

  “Rescue Izzy? In her own place?” Valgrin’s dry amusement sharpened the words.

  Malcolm shrugged, “Well, maybe.”

  “Give it a few more minutes and if needed I’ll run upstairs and then go down to the tavern.” Valgrin replied.

  “You mean we both go ups…” The door swung open with a creak, banging against the wall. Izzy strode in, and Malcolm shot to his feet so quickly his chair wobbled. "Perfect timing," Malcolm said, voice brightening. "We were just organizing your rescue party." His lips quirked into a half-smile.

  Izzy snorted, “In my place? I can handle myself.” She smiled as she grabbed the chair next to Malcolm and sat down across from Valgrin, Malcolm sat back down. “Ran into Ylnah. She’s going to give us about fifteen to twenty minutes to discuss anything we need to without her. Then she’ll be here with supper. Should you go get Skwilly?”

  “He wanted to sleep, he can make his way down the main stairs if he can’t get into your room.” Valgrin answered.

  Malcolm shook his head, “Can’t think of anything she shouldn’t know.”

  “Me either,” Valgrin gave a slight shrug.

  “Malcolm says he talked to you. All good there?” Izzy asked.

  Valgrin looked confused for a second then remembered the discussion the morning he left. “Oh, talked to her. She understands and isn’t crushing, she sees me as a mentor who helped her find her way. So it was you that thought…?”

  “No, I thought it’d be more special teacher. But someone thought it could be otherwise, so I had to check since the idea had been planted.” Izzy pressed both hands against the table. “I know it seems like I have it against you, I don’t.”

  In a soft voice, Valgrin replied. “Relax, I never thought you had it in for me. Might be times I react with a knee-jerk emotional response, give me time to process and I’ll come ‘round. Topic shift, how are you two doing with what happened this morning?”

  Malcolm and Izzy shared a quick glance, the Malcom spoke up. “I was expecting it since the theerat. Reminded me to tell Izzy about my new found poison immunity. Took more damage for that than the actual attack.”

  Izzy smacked Malcolm’s shoulder, she struggled to get words out instead of laughter. “I wasn’t that bad, mostly. But seriously, the shock of seeing him on the ground got me thinking and…we’re not formally engaged, yet, but headed that way. Thought you should be the first to know, after us.”

  “Congrats!” Valgrin made his way round the table to hug them both. “Though that might be the weakest engagement announcement ever.”

  “Cuz it’s not that.” It was now turn for Izzy to slap Valgrin’s shoulder, playfully, then her face got a little serious. “I have baggage that I want to make sure is dealt with. Malcolm’s ready to say yes now. So, it’s me.”

  “I think its great news,” Valgrin held his hands up in mock surrender. “And take your time it…”

  A soft cough from the bedroom doorway made them all turn. Ylnah stood there, balancing a wooden tray laden with steaming bowls and a pitcher that sloshed as she shifted her weight.

  "I brought…" she began.

  "Perfect timing," Malcolm called, his stomach growling audibly.

  Ylnah rushed in, the dishes clattering as she set the tray down, then hurried to Malcolm. “Are you okay? I heard you got hurt?”

  She turned to Izzy and Valgrin, “Not that I’m not concerned with you but I heard Malcolm got wounded.” She turned back to him.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "Nothing a healing spell couldn't fix," Malcolm said, flexing his arm with an exaggerated wince that made Izzy roll her eyes.

  Valgrin was already halfway to the food. "Fascinating as Malcolm's brush with death is, this smells too good to let cool."

  Malcolm stood up, “Excuse me, I’m starving.” He made his way to the food as well.

  The next half an hour were filled with sounds of eating and of Malcolm regaling Ylnah with a retelling of the afternoon. Valgrin cleared his throat pointedly whenever the embellishments stretched too far, while Izzy's snorts of laughter punctuated the most outrageous claims.

  Izzy slipped from her chair, disappeared around the corner, and returned moments later with her brow furrowed. "Tavern business upstairs. Won't be long," she said, “taking the backstairs.”

  “See ya soon,” Malcolm called out after her.

  “See even she doesn’t call them ‘secret’ stairs.” Valgrin pointed out.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’ve made your point.” Malcolm flourished his hands.

  Ylnah’s eyebrows scrunched together, “What point?”

  “Something trivial that we debated over,” Malcolm looked over at Valgrin. “Blue dude over there doesn’t like to lose. Now, why don’t you share with Ylnah what you were going to share when we headed out this morning.”

  It was Valgrin’s turn to share a story, Ylnah growing excited the more Valgrin shared. She squealed and bounced out of her chair when he told her she was welcome to join him on future trips north.

  “Can we go tomorrow?” Ylnah made no attempt to contain her wiggles.

  “No,” Valgrin shook his head, “I came back to tell everyone I was okay and to figure out where we were on Drathnor and the Black Dove. Need to do that next couple of days, then I’m heading back with whomever else wants to go.”

  “Count me in.” Ylnah’s bouncing began to diminish. “Be ready to go with you in an instant.”

  “Might have to make that longer. Have something else lined up for us.” Izzy popped around the corner from her bedroom.

  “Didn’t mention it before.” Malcolm pointed out.

  “Didn’t have it until just now. Old adventuring friend, her daughter has been kidnapped and asked me to help. Me means all of you as well. Deeah will stay back and run the tavern.”

  “Kidnapping trumps going for a visit.” Valgrin spoke up, “Where we going and who for?”

  Malcolm and Ylnah nodded their agreement.

  Izzy reached back into her bedroom. Fingers curled around the doorframe before a woman stepped forward, her shoulders squared despite the slight tremor in her hand as it clasped Izzy's.

  "This is Bridget, my old adventuring friend," Izzy said.

  Bridget stood eye-level with Valgrin, her leather bracers worn at the edges from use. She blinked rapidly, the skin around her eyes swollen and flushed against her tanned face. Crying? Probably, I would. When she nodded in greeting, her brown hair fell forward, and she pushed it back with the practiced motion of someone who'd done so a thousand times during combat.

  “We’ll leave later today,” Izzy guided Bridget chair. “Fortunately their is a station at Bridget’s place.”

  “Why?” Valgrin asked quickly.

  “Her place is also a scout station on the border of Tythka, a Bleeding Tree zone, populated by Bythies.” Izzy answered him.

  “Bythies?” Valgrin fired off his next question.

  Bridget's eyes widened at Valgrin. She rubbed the scar tissue on her forearm—three parallel ridges, each as thick as a finger. "Bythnahr," she whispered, then louder, "We call them Bythies for short." Her fingers traced the scars unconsciously. "Carapaces that shimmer black-green in torchlight. Mandibles that can snap through leather armor. Different types, soldiers, mages, healers, ruling class, and others we haven’t figured out. Last summer they swarmed the eastern outpost, which is the outpost on the other side of the zone, hundreds pouring from tunnels we never knew existed. Took three of my friends." She swallowed hard. "They're not particularly clever, but when you're facing twenty at once, you don't need to be clever."

  Valgrin's fingers drummed against the tabletop, his blue skin darkening around the knuckles. "The Structure permits this? In the EverNever?"

  Izzy nodded as she answered, “Yes, in a few spots it seems allowed. Bleeding Tree had to be offered zones to comply with the Structure. Those zones are watched, and as far as I’m aware, fighting is allowed.”

  Valgrin caught Bridget's gaze lingering on her scars. He exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping. “I’m sorry, my curiosity got the better of me, what do we need to know about your daughter?”

  Izzy reached over and patted Bridget’s hand. “I’ll take the first part then you can fill in the rest. Okay?”

  Bridget didn’t speak, just nodded her head slowly.

  Clearing her throat, Izzy began. “It was an adventure I led my crew into Trynslvania. Had to take on some necromancers, along with some of the undead types that typically accompany them. To keep the story short I’ll get right to the end.” Izzy took a sip of water, “We faced off with this necromancer who managed to lay a curse on several of us mid-fight. It was touch and go for a while but in the end, we put that death-mage in the ground permanently. Mission accomplished. Mira, our healer, prepared remove curse spells for everyone affected. When she cast one on Bridget, the magic flowed through her body, dissolving the necromancer's dark influence. None of us realized, not even Bridget herself, that she carried a child. The spell recognized mother and baby as separate beings, cleansing only Bridget while leaving the curse to take root in her unborn daughter.” Izzy patted Bridget’s hand, “Doing okay? Well enough to take over?”

  With a slow nod, Bridget turned to face the group. "When Shawin was born, I screamed—not from the pain, but from what I saw." She swallowed hard. "Three dark green tendrils, writhing from her tiny back like living things. The midwife nearly dropped her." Bridget's hand clenched into a fist. "Within minutes, my baby's face turned blue. Her little body arched, convulsing. The midwife, gods bless her, knocked over a potted plant in her panic. The moment those tendrils touched the spilled soil, my daughter took her first real breath. That’s how we discovered she needed to be in contact with soil, all the time, she can’t survive fifteen minutes without it."

  "Doing okay?" Izzy asked softly.

  Bridget nodded, lifted her mug with trembling hands, and drank deeply. "Our home looks like a garden now. Clay pots in every corner." Her fingers mimicked sewing motions. "I've spent nights by the lightrock, stitching hidden pouches into her clothes. Shawin has dresses, tunics, pants, and jackets with extra fabric, carrying her pouches and little snuffboxes of dirt. Without contact with soil, she becomes a monster…" Her voice cracked. “…literally a monster. One spring, when she was younger, we were caught in a flash flood. Lost her soil pouches, or they emptied while she was making her way through the water. The pain started in minutes, within an hour…" Bridget's eyes glazed over. "Her tendrils hardened like spears. She—she didn't recognize me. We had made it to a small abandoned cabin and made it to the roof. She tore through the cabin’s roof and walls searching for earth."

  "Do you have any idea who took her? And where?" Valgrin asked.

  Bridget shook her head, wiping her cheeks. "Litok is following tracks now. The outpost, the western one just south of me, could only spare him, but he's our best." Her fingers drummed anxiously. "If we're lucky, he'll be waiting with news when we arrive."