Luna gnawed on her last beef bone while Jesmyn and Zanther reclined against a boulder the size of a wagon. Zanther’s bow was uncased and strung, propped against his shoulder for quick use. Beside him, Jesmyn sat with her legs stretched out in the low grass, and her staff leaning against the boulder. Both of them were exhausted, with streaks on their faces where sweat had plowed furrows through the dust.

       The stream they had followed uphill for two days had dwindled to the murmuring brook where their donkey and mules now fed on the tender grass. The journey had been difficult, but the stream’s water was clean and sweet, and had kept their canteens full.

       They now sat on a small plateau strewn with granite boulders, which Jesmyn judged to be glacial erratics. Fairly common in Anglia, erratics made for striking landmarks and were sometimes used as meeting places.

       Jesmyn estimated that the plateau was nearly eight thousand feet above sea level. From their vantage, they enjoyed an unobstructed view to the northeast. She did some quick math in her head and determined their line of sight to be a bit over one hundred miles. That was too short to see Bryhill or Foxford, but within range of Hydale. She looked for the smudge that marked the settlement at the head of the Gilpin River, but the lowlands were cloaked in a gossamer late-summer haze.

       Jesmyn realized that Zanther had been unusually quiet, and she took his hand. “Please don’t worry. We’re on the right path.”

       Zanther peered into the trees along each side of the meadow before them. “Perhaps, but it’s been hours now, and still no sign of Wynifryd.”

       She gave his hand a squeeze. “With every step, I sense the sanctuary growing nearer. I’ve a feeling we’ll find something there. Something that will change the world.”

       He chuckled dryly. “You don’t think small, I’ll give you that.”

       She turned her head to face him, forcing herself to make eye contact. “When my grandfather died, we got permission to bury him in Castle Green, so he’d have a view of the windows he built there. On the way home from his funeral, I overheard a local merchant complimenting the windows the Bearcrofts had built. That’s when I realized that my grandfather’s legacy had already been erased.”

       Zanther gave her a sympathetic look. “That’s a sad story. But I’m not sure I understand.”

       “Life is fleeting. We will soon be gone and forgotten. So, we must seize these opportunities when they arise. We must act as if there is no tomorrow.”

       Zanther offered a surprised smile. “You sound like an Aurelian.”

       “How so?”

       “St. Aurelius wrote, yesterday a drop of semen, tomorrow, a handful of ashes. I’m paraphrasing a bit, but that’s the gist of it.”

       Jesmyn pondered his words. “I hadn’t heard that before. An obsessively masculine perspective, but there’s truth in it.”

       Luna suddenly jumped to her feet, abandoning her bone. Her ears perked as she craned her head to peer into the trees on each side of the meadow. Then she began to growl.

       Zanther scooped up his bow and drew an antler-tipped arrow from his quiver. “Let’s hope it’s our hunting guide.”

       They both stood, and Jesmyn raised her staff before her. They had intentionally chosen this spot for its defensibility. No one could get behind them, and they could see everything in front of them.

       Jesmyn gestured for Luna to get behind her. “Stay back there, Luna. Don’t attack unless I tell you.”

       The dog reluctantly slunk into their shadow.

       A young woman emerged with her hands held high, walking slowly into the meadow in front of them. “Easy, friends.”

       Jesmyn studied the woman. She was grubby and wore oversized leather armor. A club hung from her belt. She was smiling, showing mottled teeth. Jesmyn did not know if the smile was genuine. She never did.

       The woman scratched the top of her head, making a fist before slowly lowering her hand. The sun caught a silver hoop in her left ear. That made Jesmyn frown. Ear ornamentation was most common amongst barbarians, criminals, and mercenaries.

       Zanther whispered urgently to Jesmyn. “She’s a bandit, and there are more in hiding. She just signaled for them not to shoot.”

       Jesmyn whispered back. “How do you know that?”

       “She made a fist over her head. That’s one of the signals described in Confessions of a Brigand.”

       Jesmyn nodded, impressed. She should have been terrified, but something had changed within her, and she had already formulated a plan to exploit the situation.

       “Me name be Jaybird,” the girl called out. “Why are you here?”

       Zanther stepped forward, lowering his nocked arrow a fraction. “To meet our hunting guide, Wynifryd.”

       Jaybird chuckled, and Jesmyn heard laughter coming from several people somewhere in the woods. Jesmyn’s sharp eyes spotted one of them, a person kneeling in the shadows at the trunk of a tree, holding a crossbow aimed at her.

       “Who sent you?” asked Jaybird. “Was it Ysa?”

       Zanther frowned, whispering to Jesmyn. “Ysa is working with them. This is bad, Jes.”

       Jaybird spoke as she took a few cautious steps forward. “Tell you what, since you’re friends with Ysa, we’ll let you off easy. Just hand over your weapons, pay the toll, and we’ll be on our way.”

       Zanther whispered to Jesmyn, never taking his eyes off Jaybird. “They’ll kill us once they have our weapons. They can’t allow us to return to Harthorpe and report Ysa to the ranger.”

       Jesmyn nodded, already ahead of him. She stepped forward and called out to Jaybird. “Tell your companions to lower their bows.”

       Jaybird crossed her arms with a grin. “Now why would I do that?”

       “Because you don’t want to kill your employer.”

       Jaybird tilted her head in surprise. “That’s a new one. Best explain yourself.”

       Jesmyn raised her chin. “I am the Practitioner Jesmyn Strangewayes, the greatest mage in Highthorn. I’ve come to explore a Brimian site. If you escort us to the location, I’ll give you shares of whatever we find.”

       Jaybird’s eyes narrowed. “You been into the drift, mage?”

       Jesmyn didn’t understand, and her brow furrowed.

       Zanther whispered in her ear. “She wants to know if you’re using drift. It’s a street drug.”

       Jesmyn glowered at the bandit. “The site is real. And when I find it, you’ll all be richer than nobles.”

       Jaybird’s eyes brightened. “Good then. Best give us the location.”

       Jesmyn scoffed. “I don’t have the exact location, only the general coordinates. Though I’m quite sure I can find it. But on your own, you cannot.”

       Jaybird pffted. “A likely tale.”

       Jesmyn’s voice boomed as she stepped forward. “It’s no tale, brigand! Take me to your commander. I tire of bandying with minions.”

       Jaybird took a step back, her confidence faltering. “She got a right terrible temper. If you’re lying about the site, she’ll flay you alive. And then me.”

       Jesmyn pointed her staff at Jaybird. “Think a moment, you mooncalf. Why else would we be here? Do we look like hunters?”

       Jaybird frowned, biting her lip. “I s’pose not. But if we take you there, we’d have to blindfold you.”

       Jesmyn tutted. “Absolutely not. I’ve no interest in the location of your lair, so I’ll parley with your leader on neutral ground.”

       Jaybird dithered, looking down as she kicked the heel of her boot into the sod. “Hmm, what about Demon River?”

       Jesmyn nodded sharply, though she had never heard of it. “Lead on. And be quick about it.”

       Zanther shouldered his bow and quivered his arrow, then whispered a warning to Jesmyn. “You can’t trust them. Once we’ve found the site, they’ll slaughter us, and no mistake.”

       Jesmyn whispered back. “Of course they will. I’m just playing for time until help arrives.”

       “What help?”

       “The Church dig team that must already be on our heels. They’ll have vigilants, watchers, and Bearguards.”

       Jesmyn turned away before he could respond. With Luna at her side, she headed for her mule. She had the strangest feeling of being an imposter. The Jesmyn of old had been demure and undemanding, and rarely received what she wanted. This new Jesmyn was confrontational and discourteous, using intimidation to get her way. Was the dynamo, as Zanther feared, affecting her behavior? Perhaps he was right to be worried.

***

Jesmyn, Zanther, and Luna stood at the bottom of what had once been an open-pit gold mine cut into the sandstone. The pit, nearly one hundred and eighty feet in diameter and sixty-two feet deep, had been reclaimed by vegetation. Jesmyn guessed the abandoned mine had been worked out more than a century ago.

       The pit had exposed a short portion of an underground river. The Demon River, as the bandits called it, was eighteen feet wide, with a surprisingly rapid flow. Neither the origin nor the destination of the murky water could be seen. Jesmyn suspected this odd meeting place would make most people feel trapped. But she felt secure in the pit’s embrace.

       They stood with their backs against a mossy sandstone wall. In one hand, Zanther held his strung, uncased bow, and in the other, he held an arrow with a sharp point carved from an antler.

       Jesmyn, raising her staff before her, leaned close to him and whispered. “Is all of your steel and iron inside your rucksack?”

       He nodded, shrugging off the rucksack and letting it fall to the ground behind him.

       Jaybird sat nearby on the fallen log that served as a bridge across the river. She used her club to whack the occasional insect emerging from the log. Not far from her, two brigand crossarchers paced across the grassy floor of the pit, their weapons slung over their shoulders. One archer was a woman in leather armor. She had a military bearing and a scar on her neck. The other was a man, unarmored except for a rusted steel half-helm with a leather chinstrap cinched so tight it made his cheeks bulge.

       Jesmyn’s eyes flicked up at movement near the top of the pit. A bandit stood where they had tethered their mules and donkey. The brigand hadn’t been there before. Her long gray hair was tied back. She wore leather armor and carried a sling.

       The slinger stepped aside, revealing another woman, this one in a full steel harness.

       For a moment, Jesmyn’s stomach clenched as she recalled the plated knights of St. Zeno. But this woman’s armor wasn’t blackened, nor did it display the Zenos’ ram-head insignia.

     Jesmyn realized this was the brigand leader. A tall, hairy, powerfully built man walked two paces behind her. He wore leather armor and carried a spear. The commander and spearman picked their way down the narrow path that spiralled into the abandoned mine, then crossed the mossy log that traversed the span of underground river, leading to the overgrown floor of the pit.

       The leader carried an imperial battle axe on her hip. Her helmet was a Teutonian-style klappvisor, with a separate visor slit for each eye. Her visor was closed, and Luna softly growled as the faceless woman approached.

       Jesmyn held up a hand to quiet Luna, but couldn’t blame the dog for feeling threatened. The leader was intimidating in her armor. Only her hands and the back of her legs were unprotected. Jesmyn noted the armor was mismatched, coming from a variety of regions and time periods, but it was well-maintained, and the woman moved comfortably in it. Jesmyn guessed she was a former soldier.

       The woman took a wide stance less than ten paces from Jesmyn and rested her hand on the head of her axe. Her voice, deep and angry, echoed from the depths of her helm. “I’m Heavy Mags. This best not be a waste of my time.”

       As if to punctuate her statement, the man at her elbow lowered his spear to point it at Jesmyn.

       A heartbeat later, Zanther had nocked his arrow, but Jesmyn stayed him with a gesture. He stopped with his bowstring half drawn and arrow pointed downward.

       Jaybird and the two crossarchers stepped over to join their leader. The archers rolled their drawn crossbows off their shoulders and slapped bolts into the grooves, but did not raise their weapons.

       For a moment, the two sides faced off, the only sound the murmur of the Demon River.

       Jesmyn inspected Mags and guessed she must have been a heavy infantry soldier, sometimes called heavies. If so, she’d be a formidable fighter.

       Jesmyn took a step forward. “Mark me, Heavy Mags. For this is a onetime offer. Ten faes to escort us to the Brimian site we seek, plus equal shares of whatever we find there.”

       Mags scoffed. “If there was a site in these parts, we would have found it by now.”

       “It’s not in these parts,” Jesmyn countered.

       The armored woman growled, losing patience. “Then where is it?”

       Jesmyn pointed south. “The general location is forty-three miles in that direction. Once there, it will take me a few days to find the specific location.”

       A wicked laugh echoed from the woman’s klappvisor. “If that’s where I think it is, you’re mad as the bear.”

       The comment took Jesmyn by surprise. She had seen many maps of the Southern Range, and none had indicated anything at that location. Curious, she called out to Mags. “Why do you think me mad?”

       The woman scoffed. “Townfolk.”

       Heavy Mags lifted her left arm and pointed four fingers at Zanther.

       He recognized the hand signal and called out a warning. “They’re attacking!”

       Mags took a step forward and drew the axe from her hip.

       Luna vaulted the distance between them, latching her teeth onto the woman’s weapon hand, causing Mags to cry out and drop her axe.

       Before Jesmyn could cast, Zanther sank an antler-tipped arrow into the throat of the spearman. It was the first time she had seen Zanther use his bow, and as promised, he was a fine archer.

       By now, the two crossarchers had raised their bows to shoot.

       Jesmyn couldn’t believe that her plan had gone awry. Clearly, there was something about the coordinates that she didn’t understand.

       She spoke the casting phrase for her magnet spell, which could either repel or attract iron-based metals within a radius of her staff, depending on the recitation. This particular build was designed to repulse. “Grsǔ Svīsfā.” She held her staff high to create a vector of force that would deflect any crossbow bolts into the ground.

       The spell’s effect startled her.

       A magnetic wave exploded outward. Mags flew back as if shoved by a giant. She screamed again as she splashed into the river. Luna, still clamped on her hand, went into the water with her.

       The crossarcher in the half helm fell over backwards, losing his weapon. He desperately clutched at his chinstrap as he rolled toward the water.

       The other crossarcher, with the scar on her neck, managed to get off a shot, but the bolt arced toward the ground, sinking into the soil at Zanther’s feet.

       The spearman with the arrow in his throat fell dead, and the crossarcher in the half helm screamed as he rolled into the river.

       A slingstone whizzed past Jesmyn’s head, narrowly missing her.

       With one fluid motion, Zanther drew another arrow and dispatched the slinger at the top of the pit.

       But in doing so, he had taken his eyes from Jaybird, and she fell upon him with her wooden club.

       Jesmyn’s staff was already raised, and she brought it down on Jaybird’s head, pushing with her high hand and pulling with her low hand, so that the staff snapped down with tremendous force. Like all makers, Jesmyn was strong for her size, and she knew she had delivered a fatal blow. Jaybird dropped with her eyes rolling back.

       Finding herself friendless, and with her crossbow bucking in her hand, the woman with the scar took fright. She dropped her weapon and fled pell-mell across the log bridge.

       Jesmyn turned to Zanther. “We can’t spare her. She knows the site’s location, and she could ambush us later.”

       Jesmyn felt little guilt over the pronouncement. This was a line she had already crossed when she killed the Zenos.

       Zanther nodded reluctantly as he nocked another arrow and sunk it into the woman’s torso. She collapsed with a scream.

       Jesmyn called out as she raced to the edge of the river, “Luna!”