Jaleigh Johnson - The Howling Delve

Around him, other females appeared from nowhere, some with tiny fawns, all as translucent as the one that stood beside him. Its large black eyes regarded him steadily.

"Are they ghosts?" Kall whispered.

Cesira shook her head. They are Quessilaren-nearly gone, but for small herds that dwell here and on distant Evermeet. The females run between this world and the Border Ethereal for protection, never belonging wholly to either.

"Are they dangerous?"

Not at all. They've befriended the wild elves and a handful of us. I and the other apprentices watch over them, when we can. Cesira held up her spear. When a buck is killed by the goblins, we burn the carcass, but for this. She let the spear point catch the moonlight. What Kall had at first taken for bells actually looked to be bits of hollowed-out antler.

The chimes they make are as sweet a music as any human will ever hear outside the elf courts, she said. Her expression hardened. We feel it fitting for the goblins to hear it before they die.

Kall said nothing, unsure how to react to the passion in the young girl's eyes. Lightning split the sky, turning her skin silver.

Come. Cesira said. We should move-

"Look out!" Kall dived at her, crushing his shoulder into the dirt as a hand axe sailed over their entwined bodies.

A lone goblin crashed through the trees after its wild throw. It saw them, helpless in the underbrush, and charged.

Kall rolled off the druid, scrambling to get his sword. He braced the blade as Cesira wrenched the creature's leg, sending it sprawling onto the sword's point. The goblin crumpled as Kall pulled the weapon free, and the pair ran, retreating deeper into the forest.

Wait. Panting, Cesira pulled Kall up short.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded curtly, but her eyes were wide. You should wipe the blood from your weapon, she said.

Kall looked down at his sword. A red stain ran halfway up the blade. He drew it across the grass.

I didn't see the axe, Cesira said.

"I know."

She scowled. That doesn't mean-

"I was just as scared," he interrupted, and they gazed at each other in silence. "I want to go back," Kall said. In his heart, he did not mean to Garavin's hut.

She seemed to realize it, and softened. You can't. That path is closed.

Her voice was gentle, but the words felt like a slap. Kall's anger returned. "You know nothing about me!" he snapped.

I know much of you, Kall.

"How do you know my name?"

Garavin, she said simply. Go back to him. Dig holes and make tunnels. It's hardening work, work you'll need. In a year or two you'll be fighting goblins. Dig holes, make tunnels.. She paused. And come to see me, at the boulder.

"Why?" Kall asked, confused. In the dark and the mist her profile wasn't easy to discern, but he knew she was looking at him.

You helped me, she said. The words clearly came hard to her. I can help you.

They didn't speak again. She took him back to the boulder between the trees, so he would know how to find it again.

They found Morgan and Laerin leaning against the rock, arguing.

"If he'd've been some frock-heavy, perfumed Waterdhavian snotling, you wouldn't've thought twice about keeping them!" Morgan accused.

"Yet clearly he's not," came Laerin's gentler reply. He noticed Kall and Cesira, and smiled. "Nor is he quite a boy, after what he's been through. Well met, Kall."

Kall nodded to the half-elf. Cesira climbed the boulder and sat cross-legged atop it.

You're both late, she said.

"Our fault completely," said Laerin. "We lost Kall's trail thanks to your superior forest skills.. and Morgan dropped the emeralds."

"Found 'em again, didn't I!" Morgan huffed. He reached inside a pouch and pulled something out in his fist. He hurled the object-a small, dirt-encrusted bundle of linen-at Kall.

Kall recognized it at once. It was the same bundle he'd unearthed with his father's sword from the cemetery in Esmeltaran. One end was torn open. Kall could see twin points of green glittering against the white linen: two more emeralds-flawless stones matching the gem in his father's sword.

"You stole them?" he asked incredulously.

Don't let their doltish appearances fool you, said Cesira. These louts are well known-and wanted-burglars in the finer districts of Waterdeep, Arabel, and gods know where else.

"Those baubles would have kept us comfortable for several winters," Morgan complained.

"He's right," Kall said, fingering the stones. He fought down his instinctive anger at Morgan's theft and instead looked at Laerin. "Why didn't you keep them?"

"Because you're going to need them," Laerin said. He nodded at Cesira. "They speak, much like your lady's stones."

Kall felt his neck grow warm, but he refused to be distracted by the half-elf's teasing. "Show me."

Laerin took one of the emeralds back, fisting it in the palm of his hand. "Morel," he said aloud. He waited a beat, then raised the stone to his mouth and spoke a handful of words in Elvish. Kall did not understand any of them. A breath later, Kall looked down at his sword in surprise. The emerald in the hilt glowed, luminous against the platinum veins.

"Touch the stone in your sword and speak your family name," Laerin instructed him.

Curious, Kall did as he said and felt the emerald grow warm. He heard Laerin's Elvish speech coming from the stone, a perfect echo of what the half-elf had said. An instant later, the words repeated, this time in Common.

Friends in the dark.

Kall lowered his weapon. "I had no idea the stones were linked."

"No matter the language, the gems will translate. They have another power," Laerin said. He dropped the second emerald in Kall's open hand. "Anyone who possesses one of the emeralds can locate the other two at any time, no matter the distance."

"Been tracking you since you left the hut," said Morgan.

"What does the message mean?" Kall asked, still watching the half-elf. "Friends in the dark?"

"Means diggers," Laerin said. He winked at Kall.

"Nothing wrong with digging," Morgan agreed.

Kall looked up at the boulder, but Cesira had gone.

"She's rejoined the druids," Laerin explained. "But she'll be back." He pushed off the rock. "We should go. Garavin will be waiting."

Kall held the sparkling emeralds in his hand. The forest was eerily quiet, tense and uncertain in the wake of the goblin battle. In the distance, fires still burned.

It would take a long time, Kall thought, but eventually the forest would look as it had before. Maybe it would be stronger for all the damage it had suffered. Kall wondered if he would see the mist stags again.

Turning, he followed Morgan and Laerin back to Garavin's hut.

Esmeltaran, Amn

2 Eleint, the Year of the Banner (1368 DR)

Three years later, the house looked exactly as he remembered it.

Kall expected to meet the bulk of the resistance at the door, but there was only one guard, a skinny, tired-looking man who stood by the window, with a fist stuck in his mouth to stifle a yawn.

Kall slid around the side of the house, beneath the windows facing the front hedgerows. He came up behind the guard and clipped him on the back of the head with the pommel of his sword. The guard crumpled; Kall caught him under the armpits and dragged him into the shadows behind the bushes.

Returning to the door, he took out the set of lockpicks Laerin had given him and set to work. He hadn't nearly the half-elf's skill, but what he lacked in grace he made up for with persistence. The lock gave way with a click.

Inside the entry hall, lanterns were dimmed for sleep, but Kall knew his house well enough to feel his way. He listened for signs that someone had detected his presence, but he heard nothing.