"They’ve gone a bit awry?” Itia grumbled. “Is that what you’d call it, Abraham?”

They quickly left the city and met back up with Gustaf in their camp to figure out what to do next.

“How did this happen?” Itia sat down heavily on one of the stumps that served as chairs for them.

“I underestimated the sectarians a little,” Abraham tried to stay composed while diligently throwing earth over the fire. “Glets probably didn’t realize that Guy wasn’t Alf, but he still somehow spotted my artifact.”

“He’s a thief, you old fox,” Alba-udun suddenly spoke up after staying silent until now. “Same as you. The Stone Ancestors say that a thief always understands a thief better than anyone else ever could.”

“Thanks for the dwarven philosophy, Alba-udun.” Gustaf jumped down from a tree. Hadjar had only been able to sense the young man’s approach from a few hundred feet away, which once again proved he was quite skilled. “I chose not to take the shot. Maybe I could’ve helped Guy, but then we would’ve lost our only link to-”

“No one is blaming you,” Itia interrupted him. “You did everything right.”

The dwarf nodded affirmatively and patted Gustaf on the back. “Do you want an apple?” He even tried to hand him a treat.

“Oh, leave me alone!”

“The Stone Ancestors say that…”

Well, Albadurt still didn’t know when to hold his tongue, regardless of what his honorable Stone Ancestors told him he should do.

“All that trouble because of this little bottle.”

A bottle materialized in Abraham’s palm. There was a substance inside it that was similar to a living resin. It was something black, viscous, and it moved inside the magic crystal bottle as if it had a will of its own.

“We need to think about what we should do next.” Itia unwound her whip and checked how sharp the poisoned edges of it were.

It was a very dangerous medium-range weapon. Hadjar would consider his options several times before rushing headlong into battle against Itia. Of course, he wouldn’t die, but victory would probably end up costing him too much.

“Well,” Abraham took off his straw hat and ran his hand through his gray-streaked hair, “We don’t know how many of them there are. We don’t know what they’re capable of. What we know for sure is that there will be a trap. And…” Abraham fell silent.

What he had listed was already enough to make the idea of rescuing Guy seem like pure madness to everyone. There was no need to make the situation worse.

“He’s our friend, Abraham,” Gustaf whispered. “He lost his face when-”

“I know!” The old rogue lost his composure for a moment. “I know, Gustaf. I know that all too well.”

Once upon a time, Abraham had gotten into big trouble in the Port of the Dead. He would’ve lost his life if not for the axeman who’d arrived just in time. As a result, Abraham had survived, but Guy had lost half his face in the process.

“Fucking Strange Lands!” Itia swore tiredly.

In just a few hours, the seemingly peaceful place had landed them in a heap of deadly problems.

Someone bit into a ripe apple with a loud noise.

“Are you thinking about the same thing I’m thinking about, Hadjar-dan?” The redheaded dwarf touched the hilts of his battle axes with his palm. His tattoos flashed with green light all across his body.

“Apparently, I am,” Hadjar nodded, then walked over to Abraham. “I have an idea, Shensie.”

“An idea, kid?” Abraham arched an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Do you remember that trick we failed to pull off in the Glass-”

“Emerald!” The dwarf corrected him, a little displeased.

“In the Emerald Forest of the dwarves?”

“Hmm,” The old rogue drawled. “I can’t say that I really like the idea, but... it seems like we have no other way out.”

***

“Do you know, deceiver, why this stone is called the Stone of the Suffering God?”

Guy was lying on the ground, bound by enchanted ropes. Next to him, a few feet away, was his axe, which had been wrapped in rags. His face was still covered by his mask. Death was near. He’d always known that. He’d presumed that it would come in the form of a mighty beast, an enemy’s steel, or perhaps some kind of natural anomaly. But he’d never suspected that his wanderings would find him in the Strange Lands, talking with a children’s horror story in the form of a cultist who worshipped the Enemy. The fallen Black General had once been an equal of the gods. He’d saved the whole world from destruction in a battle against horrifying monsters that had come from the nothingness. The traitor above all traitors.

Surprisingly, the children’s horror story given life looked quite normal: he wielded a long, narrow sword, vaguely similar to Hadjar’s, was quite tall with a muscular body, slightly cloudy, gray eyes, a narrow forehead, and thick, blond hair.

Outwardly, this sectarian was no different from the mercenaries who surrounded him. He was even wearing the same kind of armor. Maybe he sometimes needed to look not like the employer of the mercenaries, but like their leader.

Anyway, death was near, and Guy was ready for it. It was just a pity that he didn’t know what had happened to her. Had she found what she had gone to look for in those distant lands? His little girl… He would wait for his ‘funny little star’ and her children… his grandchildren or, perhaps, great-grandchildren, or... How many centuries had passed since that night? No matter, he would wait for them at the table of his ancestors, whom he would meet with honor and…

“Don’t be in such a hurry to die, deceiver, my plans for today don’t include drawing my sword,” the sectarian said. Guy could sense the power coming from him, which was much greater than even the one that Hadjar possessed now. “I came to these outskirts of our paradise region to acquire some medicine. No more than that.”

Well, if death wasn’t near yet, maybe he could learn something useful.

“Why do you need the Darkness of the Last Nights?”

“Why else would I need medicine, deceiver?” The sectarian shrugged his shoulders. “To cure a sick person, of course.”

Guy frowned. Something was wrong here. Who could be so important to the Raven Sect that such a powerful sectarian had been sent to fetch it?

“But I’m asking you about something else, deceiver. Why is this stone the Stone of the Suffering God?”

Guy looked at one of the wonders of nature — a glacial boulder the size of a two-story house. The only thing that gave it the right to have its own name were the streams of liquid amber running down its sides that came from somewhere inside it.

“I’d like to hear the tale.”

Damn it all!

“Run away, you stupid boy!”

A powerful kick to Guy’s jaw sent him into oblivion.

Fucking Hadjar... Guy had liked him better when he’d worn black armor. At least then he hadn’t forgotten about death being…