The creature was red. It hissed, exposing a mouth filled with oily black teeth and a tongue which forked and forked, splitting apart as though it were multiple lapping tongues of flame. Ash fell in a thick cloud around it as it charged at Dorvo on four clawed feet, scarlet tail whipping this way and that behind it.

Dorvo got his sword up just in time—it was a saber, thin but sturdy—and cut across the salamander’s face, just below its yellow eyes, as he stepped to the side. The young adventurer thought he had successfully avoided the danger, but he did not account for the tail.

The thick red appendage slammed into his stomach as the creature rushed past, and the wind was knocked out of him. Dorvo stumbled and gasped for breath, readjusting his grip on his sword and sliding into a ready stance. He had no intention of dying to a mere salamander when he was so early into his adventuring career.

All around him, more of the fire lizards were bursting forth from beneath the ash. Two rushed at him from either side, and Dorvo spun and slashed, skipping nimbly out of the way. One of the salamanders collapsed in a heap as steaming blood spilled from its fresh wound and splashed all over the grey below. The other salamander, however, took only a shallow cut across its back, and it reared up on its hind legs and let out a shriek of anger as fire burst to life all over its body.

Dorvo caught a glimpse of Garban slamming his hammer down onto a salamander and crushing the creature’s skull. The dwarf noticed another one running up behind him and stomped his foot into the ground. In a burst of ash, the ground shifted suddenly beneath the charging salamander’s feet, sending the lizard crashing into the forest floor as Garban turned on it and delivered another powerful blow of his hammer.

But there was no time to observe the veteran adventurer. The burning salamander was bearing down on Dorvo, and he could see the first one, the one he had slashed across the face, creeping up on him from behind the flames.

With a cry, Dorvo jumped back and raised his free hand. He reached into himself, brushed his inner will across the markings on his soul, and opened up his connection to the goddess.

Elyran the Bright Queen, Goddess of Light and Day, was who Dorvo had chosen to pledge himself to on his fourteenth birthday. From the Light he had gained a connection to two domains of magic: Fire and Air.

He knew that his primary domain, Fire Magic, would be utterly useless against salamanders. These lizards were creatures of Fire Magic themselves, and they did not fear flames. That meant that Dorvo would have to rely on his secondary domain, Air Magic.

A gust of wind burst forth from his palm. It wasn’t nearly strong enough to knock back the flaming salamander or to put out its fires, but it was enough to surprise the lizard, to slow down its charge and cause it to stumble, and that was all that Dorvo required. Pushing at his own back with another gust of wind, Dorvo ran to the side, dodging past the salamander in a blur, and thrust the top of his sword into the one that was creeping behind it.

The monster looked almost dumbstruck by the attack. Dorvo’s sword pierced its throat, and the salamander died with its eyes wide and its mouth hanging loosely open. Quickly, Dorvo withdrew his blade from the red lizard’s flesh and flicked away the blood. He spun just in time to catch the burning salamander as it bore down on him.

Dorvo tried to parry, but the salamander just knocked his sword away with a black claw. Jaws wide open, the creature went for his throat.

And that was when it struck by, of all things, a snowball.

The white substance melted into steam immediately, but the impact and the surprise drew the salamander’s attention away from Dorvo. It flicked its head to look at where the projectile had come from, and the young adventurer was quick to take advantage of its distraction.

One swift slash across the throat later, and the salamander lay dead.

Panting, Dorvo cast his eyes all about the clearing. Every salamander was slain. They’d done it. He and Garban had exterminated the nest before it could grow out of control and burn the whole forest down.

“So how was it, lad?” asked Garban. A wide grin was planted firmly on his face. “Think you could get used to salamander hunting? They come up from the Eversand every now and then, so removing nests is a common job for adventurers in these parts. Good, steady work there.”

Dorvo just shook his head. He wiped sweat from his brow and blinked it from his eyes. “A snowball?” he asked the dwarf. “Really?”

Garban threw back his head and laughed. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“It was a snowball,” said Dorvo. “You couldn’t have thrown an icicle or anything like that?”

“Icicles are much more difficult to make, especially on the fly,” said the dwarf. “And again, it worked, right? Much more effective than your Fire Magic would have been.”

“My Fire Magic would have been perfectly fine, had we fought anything other than salamanders.”

“Sure, sure. But we weren’t fighting something else, were we?” Garban asked, an amused twinkle in his eye. “Now you know why adventurers often work with those pledged to the other goddess. It helps cover our weaknesses. Now come on, we need to collect a few heads and then be on our way.”

“Heads?”

“We need proof of killings, lad.”

Dorvo thought that there must be a better way to prove they had killed the salamanders, but Garban had already drawn a serrated knife and begun sawing away at one of the lizards’ necks. Dorvo did his best not to throw up at the sight.

He failed.

A half an hour later, the two adventurers were trudging back through the woods, Dorvo carrying a wet sack of five salamander heads slung over his shoulder. He tried very hard to ignore the feeling of the grisly things bumping around against his back.

As they neared the dirt road, Garban suddenly stopped short. He raised a hand to signal to Dorvo to stop as well, and the younger adventurer obeyed. However, it was too late.

There were men in dark leathers, stealing their horses. What’s more, the men had already spotted them.

“Well,” said one, stepping forth. His face was covered by a hideous burned scar. “Were these your steeds, gentlemen?”

“They are,” said Garban gruffly. He fingered his hammer, slid into stance.

“That’s a shame.” The man drew a curved sword from his waist. Behind him, the other bandits also brandished weapons. “Because we’ve decided to take them off your hands. And I’m afraid I cannot offer you a choice in the matter.”