We’d snuck out the back door of the inn after a full night’s sleep. The crowd had dispersed, but their search did not stop. Every time I dared look out the window, a determined set of eyes was there scouring for me. I thanked Ucntcme in silence. It wasn't easy to trust someone so enamored with shadow, but she hadn’t revealed my location to anyone yet.

The riverboat had nearly left without us. We’d maneuvered through the streets strategically avoiding other adventurers, and that forced us to stop behind a barrel or crate or to wait behind a corner until the next street on our trajectory cleared. We’d made it to the boat just as the anchor lifted. The captain welcomed us aboard, and Hendrix sat relaxed on the nearest bench. I eyed the captain, wondering why he didn’t seem to care about my presence.

“He’s nothing to worry about,” Hendrix said, looking out over the swift passing agriculture.

“How can you be so sure?”

“He’s not an adventurer.”

I entered the cabin. I trusted Hendrix, and according to him, the captain was worthy of trust as well, but I wanted to be alone. I hadn’t had proper time alone to think since meeting Hendrix, and though I’d grown fond of the bard, the silence was welcome.

It didn’t last long. Hendrix opened the door and joined me in the cabin. “You know things are getting real when we’re zipping down the riverways.”

“It’s great.” I made no effort to hide my irritable tone.

“I can leave if you want,” Hendrix said.

“No.” I felt bad. There was something about the bard that brought out a negative side of me. His personality seemed to turn me into an old curmudgeon. It wasn’t fair to him. His biggest crime was enjoying my company and conversing with great enthusiasm. “I’ve never moved this fast. How long until we get to Darktalon?”

“Not long,” Hendrix said. He leaned against me and peered out my window. “These riverways used to be the lifeline of the entire kingdom. They used to bring goods from the capital to every part of the kingdom, and vice versa.”

“What happened?”

“Kaloriann happened,” Hendrix said. “The darkness she brought upon the world closed the seaports. There aren’t any goods left to disperse other than the ones made here. Not to mention the capital itself being out of commission.”

“Whatever it takes,” I said.

Hendrix looked at me, still leaning against me, and waited for the rest of my thought.

“We’re going to rid this place of evil no matter what it takes.”

* * *

The scenery changed abruptly as if a portion of the journey had been cut out by a dip into sleep. The clear blue sky was snuffed by dark, reaching canopies of heavy branches and jagged leaves. Open fields as far as sight were now walls of near-black trunks and messy tangles of growth and thorns no more than a few yards away on either side.

The riverboat slowed until we reached a decrepit wooden shack in the middle of nowhere. The captain jumped to action and threw the anchor overboard. We stopped perfectly level with one of the landing bridges that jutted from the side of a dock that spanned a relatively tamed shoreline.

Hendrix was up before we’d come to a full stop and left the cabin. I followed. A wall of sound hit me as I opened the door. Howls and screeches and rattles and buzzing from millions of creatures I couldn’t fathom hung in the cool, damp air. The slow-moving river smacked against the hull of the boat, and someone whistled a tune from inside the shack.

I thanked the captain and followed a chuckling Hendrix off the boat onto the landing bridge. We moved to the dock and stood before the shack.

“What are we waiting for?” I asked.

“To be honest,” Hendrix said, taking in the magnitude of the forest, “I have no clue where to go.”

The whistling had stopped, and a voice came from within the shack. “I take it this is your first time here.” The door creaked open, and a skinny man with a weathered rain hat stood tall with a crooked hip. “I assume you want to get to Leafveil.”

“That’s the main city here,” Hendrix explained.

“All you’ve got to do is climb up that tree.” The man pointed to a massive trunk a few dozen yards away. It was as wide as Goldmill and rose higher than the rest of the forest’s canopy.

I was going to thank the man, but Hendrix was already on his way to the tree. The man didn’t seem to care about the bard’s lack of manners. He spat on the ground, tilted his wet hat, and returned to his shack. His whistling resumed the second the door closed.

The tree smelled of strong resin. The bark was slick with rain, and the closest branch was ten times farther than reach. I exhaled a drawn-out breath. “We just have to go on up there, is that it?”

“There’s a way,” Hendrix said. He took short steps and began to skirt around the trunk, inspecting the bark as he went. I followed and ran my fingers over the wet bark, hoping to find something the bard might’ve missed. It was smooth and flawless—no scars from burrowing insects and not even a natural knot in the wood. No matter how far we traveled around the almost mile-wide tree, the branches stayed just as out-of-reach as the first ones we’d seen, and nothing of any use presented itself.

Hendrix sat with his back against the trunk and strummed a song on his lute. He sang.

Lost down at the base

Answers gone without a trace

We are so fed up

I can’t bear one more lap

Lest my palms be soiled with sap

We cannot climb up

“I don’t see how this is helping,” I said.

“A little bit of music never hurt anybody.” Hendrix cleared his throat and continued his song, singing louder this time.

Oh! Before night we shall rise

To claim our valued prize

We’ll never quit

We may yet end up dead

No clue in view above my head

But I don’t give a—

“That’s it!” I interrupted his song when I saw the notch in the trunk a foot or so above the singing bard’s purple hat.

“What’s it?” Hendrix said, still strumming the tune.

“You picked a fine spot to stop for a breather.” I pointed to the notch.

He looked up and smiled. “You see, Billington,” he jumped to his feet and slung his lute over his back. “Never underestimate the power of song.”

I was relieved that we’d found the way up until I realized the way up meant climbing up a steep tree with only small notches barely thicker than my toes to get us there. “There’s got to be another way.”

“No. Look.” Hendrix moved his pointed finger in a zigzagging motion up the tree. A clear path of notches led up to the canopy and likely beyond. “We get up there. We get our quests. Once we’re done with Darktalon, we should be level ten. This won’t take long, Billington. Keepers of the Book will be rivaling the Champions of Velour in no time. Everyone will know our name.”

I didn’t share the same confidence, but I kept it to myself. I looked up at the notches with some of the heaviest dread I’d ever felt. Before I could protest again, Hendrix was already four notches up. He made it look easy, even with the lute on his back.

I took hold of the first notch and pulled myself up. A cool wind blew the moment my feet left the ground. A chill ran through me. My simple clothes were thin and more suited for the pleasant air of Warm Meadows. They did nothing to cut the wind.

After about twenty notches up, I looked down. My gut rose to my throat. I’d gone higher than I thought. I looked up and realized the cracks had been taking us in winding circles up the tree when Hendrix was out of sight. He came scaling back around the trunk, going from notch to notch as effortlessly as if he were walking up a trail. I envied his human limbs. Each notch was a little more than a full arm’s length for me. I had to lean and risk falling each time I wanted to get to the next one.

It felt like hours, but I finally broke through the forest’s canopy. I’d expected to see another length of trunk as long as the one we’d just conquered, but thankfully, there was only Hendrix standing in an odd field of dark green beneath an overcast sky.

“Isn’t this something?” Hendrix took in the view.

I stood upon the peak of the trunk. Light rings in the naked wood rippled outward from the center of the platform. The tree had been cut. Perhaps it had gone on much higher once upon a time. I stood on the exact center of the trunk, my knees shaking from the fear of heights despite having a few yards of trunk to balance on. It took a while, but I finally allowed myself to look around. “Where do we go now?”

“Right there.” Hendrix walked past me and stepped right off the trunk onto the weak canopy.

“Stop!”

I was too late. He took the step, but the canopy was more substantial than I’d expected. It easily supported his weight as if it were as solid as the trunk where I stood.

“Relax,” Hendrix said. “There’s a path.”

I hadn’t seen it before, but a line of torches led the way. They disappeared in the mist after only a few yards. We must’ve been in the clouds. I inspected the integrity of every area before planting my foot for my next step, and just like the climb, I lagged behind Hendrix. Curious as to what we were walking on, I crouched to flip a leaf over and nearly fainted when I saw that there was nothing between me and a fatal fall to the ground other than a single flimsy leaf that somehow held my weight.

The torches led us to a stairway made of white wood. Hendrix waited for me at the base, and we climbed. Upon closer inspection, the stairs might have been constructed of bone. I climbed them anyway.

We were stopped at the top of the stairs by two guards, both a bit taller and broader than Hendrix. Black cloaks covered their entire bodies save for black beaks that stabbed from the darkness of their hoods. They held long spears with black feathers tied near the tip.

“What business have you here?” One of them said. His beak opened and closed as he spoke, accompanying each word with a wooden clap.

“We’re just trying to level up,” Hendrix said. “Common knowledge dictates that Darktalon be our next destination.”

I glared at the bard. Such an answer would never convince a guard to allow a stranger passage into their lands. The guards stepped aside and bowed their hooded heads to let us pass. Hendrix met my glare with a smirk and proceeded.

I walked past the guards but kept my eyes on them. It had seemed too easy, but they had returned to their original positions once we were a few steps past. “How do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say strange or impolite things to people and always get away with it,” I said. “Not just get away with it, but you seem to always be rewarded for it.”

“It’s just how things are,” Hendrix said. “I can’t explain it. No one can. But adventurers are different than the rest. There’s just something about us, Billington. We converse differently than the others, we have much greater ambition than the rest, so on. Learn to take advantage of it.”

It may have all been true, but I missed the simplicity of living with the others. Every day was straightforward. Nothing was ever confusing. They just woke up and did their tasks. The others and their dull, predictive tasks allowed the adventurers to do all the crazy things they did. I promised myself I wouldn’t forget that.

The canopy of leaves at our feet made way for what looked like hay. Strong, dried up blades of grass stabbed into each other and weaved themselves into a sturdy carpet that held our weight as easily as the magical leaves had. Here and there, a small hut made of the same hay-like material rose from the ground. Eventually, many houses lined the path.

A few citizens stood face to face here and there, deep in conversation. They looked like the healer Clerice who’d helped us in Firemane’s Run when we’d been searching for Wolfgang. Their skin was the color of amethyst, and they had the same dark purple lips that were hard as bone. The males, however, had black beaks like the guards at the top of the stairs.

“Raventaur,” Hendrix said. He was answering questions before I could even ask them now. “You’ve seen one before. Clerice.”

“I remember.”

“Darktalon Woods is where they originate, “he said. “They are the rarest race of adventurers. There are probably less than a thousand of them. That’s out of more than a million adventurers.”

“Why so few?”

“No one knows,” Hendrix said. We walked through their town, greeted by long, suspicious stares. I couldn’t blame them. What were a lanky human and a stout dwarf doing up in a hay-built town in the sky? “But each one tends to be extremely competent. You never find a raventaur who’s a n—.”

“I understand.”

Children ran in an open portion of the town where there were no huts. They flapped their wings excitedly as they pranced along the sort of field. The dry grass behind them rose from the ground as if a ghost was lifting it. I stopped.

The dry grass fell away to reveal a beetle the size of a wolf. Its mouth watered and dripped at the sight of the playing children. They were still oblivious to its presence. “Look out!”

Hendrix stopped at the sound of my shouting. The children did, too, but they stared at me instead of looking behind them. The bard must’ve seen the monster. He ripped the lute from his back and strummed the familiar first chords of his battle tune—a call to arms.

Wrench in hand, I charged toward the beetle. The children stood between me and the monster. They froze in fear as they must’ve thought the strange, red, bearded creature was coming after them. I shouted for them to move, and they did. It wasn’t until I’d blown past them that they noticed the giant beetle. They screamed.

The beetle’s attention left the children and locked onto me. Wet spikes thrust from inside its demonic mouth and dripped greenish drops of something unpleasant onto the dry floor. I’d have to avoid those.

I raised my wrench but decided to run to the side just before we met. There was no opening. A black carapace fully protected its body and its face by the dripping mandibles. I ran around it, trying to inspect every inch of it in the hopes of finding a weakness. There was one. At its backend, where the carapace opened to let out wings, was a chip the size of a fist—my target.

The beetle jumped and spun to face me. It moved with a devastating speed I would’ve never predicted. It charged. I dove out of the way and ran towards Hendrix. “Can you distract it?”

“What do you mean?” Hendrix continued playing his song as we spoke.

“There’s a vulnerable spot on its back, but I’ll never be able to hit it as long as it’s focused on me.”

“That’s the beauty of having a tank,” Hendrix said.

“Yeah, I see that,” I said. “That’s why I’m asking if you could do it.”

“I can but—”

“Great. Do it.”

I ran back out into the open portion of the town to lead the beetle away from the children and other townsfolk. Luckily it didn’t run as fast as it spun. My short dwarf legs were already tired from climbing the tree not long ago, and I could barely keep them moving. My knees screamed with pain. Why wasn’t Hendrix doing anything? The bard had simply continued playing his lute. It was a different song, but I didn’t feel any better from it.

“Drive that thing away!” One of the male raventaur shouted. “They have taken too many of our children.”

I dropped a handful of beads behind me and continued running until I heard a heap falling into hay. I turned and watched the beetle as it struggled on its back. I doubled over to catch my breath. I learned from my fight with High-Lord Mallar that a fallen enemy did not necessarily mean a vulnerable one. Catching my breath and resting my legs was my top priority. Whenever the creature finally managed to get back to its feet, or whatever it had, I’d have to engage. It didn’t seem like Hendrix was going to do anything other than strumming his lute. I couldn’t blame him, though. He was, after all, just a bard.

When the beetle decided to spring up, it did so in the blink of an eye, vindicating my choice to keep my distance while it lay toppled. It charged at me, the drippings from its mandibles frothed. Its carapace opened inches before we met. Transparent wings fluttered, blowing loose strands of hay away and lifting the monster into the air. It dove at me. I rolled away just in time to avoid clamping mandibles. It landed and spun with frightening speed and charged again.

It thrust its mandibles forward like swords. I parried each attack with my wrench but wouldn’t last long. Its attacks were quick and left me no room to counter between parries. It swept my feet with a low attack. I landed on my back. A blast of hay dust rose around me. The beetle scuttled up until its hairy legs were on either side of me. Its mandibles dripped onto my face. The substance smelled like rotted oil and stuck to my skin like sap. It burned.

I thrust my wrench upward and scored a direct hit in the beast’s abdomen. The blow did nothing. Hard scales protected its underside, and my wrench was no match for its defenses. The beetle reared, almost like an angry warhorse. It tilted its twitching head downward so that the mandibles aimed at my neck. It clamped them once and opened them again, then dived at me. I held my wrench up to defend myself and slammed my eyes shut.

The beetle hissed and rolled over. It twitched to its feet just to roll onto its back again. Blue blood spurted from the bare part of its backside. Its carapace opened and closed, allowing its wings to flutter. It was as if the creature used every movement it could in the desperate hope that one of them was the answer to its pain.

It fell, lifeless but still twitching. The raventaur cheered from the town. One of them stood nearby. It was the father who’d shouted during the battle. He stood victorious with his black wings outstretched and a makeshift spear in one hand, tipped with blue blood.

“Thank you,” I said to him. “That was about to get ugly if not for you.”

His face changed from glory to fright. He dropped the spear and ran back to join the rest of his kin. I pursed my lips and stood alone on the field of dead grass, still uncertain of what had just transpired.

Hendrix joined me, his lute safe on his back.

“Next time I ask you to do something you can’t, at least tell me,” I said. “I could’ve gotten killed.”

“What are you talking about?” Hendrix smirked. “I attacked him in the vulnerable spot just like you said. Sure, I didn’t distract him like you asked, but at least I helped.”

I stared him in the eyes with a blank expression. “You know I’m not blind, right?”

He furrowed his brow.

“I saw who helped me,” I said. “It was a raventaur citizen. Not you.”

Hendrix chuckled. “Did you like that new song I played?”

I remembered him playing one during the battle. It hadn’t given me any beneficial effects. “Not really.”

“That’s too bad.” The bard couldn’t get the grin off his lips. “The raventaur gentleman sure seemed charmed by it.”

I thought for a moment, then joined the bard in grinning. “Well, that is useful, indeed.”