The road became busier and busier the closer they grew to the city. People passed by on foot or on horse, chatting and laughing. As the city’s walls drew close, the road became even more congested. Multiple carriages and freshly-painted, brightly-colored wagons joined them on the road. Ahead, traffic drew to a halt. A line queued up straight to the city gates, while some enterprising entertainers had given up on entering entirely and set up their tents outside, calling out their acts for those waiting to enter. Jet glanced at them, then looked at Elly. “Is there some kind of festival going on in this city?”

“Er, I… I didn’t leave Wallop much, honestly,” Elly said, scratching her chin.

“The Strawberry Harvest Festival. We have it every year,” the thief girl muttered.

“Thank you, thief girl,” Gideon said.

“That is a good point. We can’t keep calling her that. What’s your name?” Elly asked.

Gideon shrugged. “I’m fine with calling her thief girl.”

The thief girl narrowed her eyes at him. “My name is Kat.”

“Kat, short for Katrina? Catherine? Kate?” Elly guessed.

Kat hesitated. She shook her head. “Just Kat.”

The ground rumbled as a huge carriage passed by, laden with passengers and packages. The carriage passed by, and the rumbling grew stronger. The horses staggered, Angie letting out a grumbling neigh.

An earthquake? Or could it be… Jet sat bolt upright, looking around.

Soft earth burst into the sky. A thick, bulbous body thrust after it, the jaw about as wide as the throat, throat about as wide as the body, stubby claws barely long enough to propel the tubular creature through the earth. About as wide in diameter as a grown man’s shoulders and twice as long, the beast let out a fearsome roar. Only a few scales remained on its flesh, the rest scraped clean by the earth. Beside it, the ground bulged, then erupted as one, two, three more of the monsters burst through the earth.

Gideon sat high in his saddle, excited. “Wyrms! Dragons to kill!”

Kat scowled. “Dammit!”

“Language,” Jet said evenly.

Elly glanced at her. “Are they common around here?”

“A pack lives in the wastelands nearby. The Strawberry Harvest Festival stirs them up sometimes, with all the visitors stomping over the road and shaking the earth. They mistake it for a stampede and get excited. I guess… we got unlucky this year,” Kat said, clenching her fists.

All around them, travelers wheeled their horses around or turned their carriages about. Horses squealed. Wheels rattled. A heavy thump rang out as a wagon struck a carriage. The carriage tipped over, occupants screaming. Ripe strawberries spilled from the back of the wagon, splattering over the earth. The wagon-driver stood up, cursing vigorously at the carriage-driver, who cursed back, baring his riding crop at the other man.

A few guards ran out from the town gates. “Everyone, stop moving! If you calm down, we’ll quickly drive away the wyrms!”

“Calm down! Calm! More motion will only gather more wyrms!”

Up on the town’s wall, guards hurried, aiming cannons into the field at the wyrms. Others fired arrows, but the arrows bounced off the wyrms’ soft-looking but deceptively tough skin.

“Gather them! Motion! Chaos!” Gideon shouted, eyes gleaming. Lightning flickered all around him, flickering through his flying hair, down his arm, between his fingers. He brandished his tome. “It’s time to kill some dragons. Die, dragons, die!”

Lightning arced through the air and struck the closest wyrm, piercing it through its fat head. The wyrm spasmed, then died, kicking over to its side and drooping back to earth. The other wyrms spun toward it. Jaws working, tiny, half-blind eyes searching, noses twitching, they nudged the dead wyrm quizzically. One hauled back and took a tentative bite, then launched itself at its compatriot. In a moment, its powerful jaws, meant for chewing through earth, bored a hole through its dead fellow.

“Filthy cannibals. Die.” Gideon gestured again. Another blast of lightning struck the chewing wyrm. It shuddered, then flopped to the ground.

The remaining three wyrms ducked back into the earth. Long bodies coiled past, a single fat earthworm-like loop visible out of the earth as they vanished back beneath it. The ground rumbled and shook, and a bump appeared at the surface of the earth with the wyrm’s passing. The three coiled around and shot at them from beneath the dirt.

Gideon grit his teeth. “Escaping underground, where lightning can’t reach? What wily creatures.”

Jet drew his sword and sliced downward. Blue-white light glowed from the blade, and the air around him grew cold. Kat shivered, clutching her rags to herself. Her breath hung on the air.

Ice jutted out of the ground in front of the nearest wyrm. A dull crash rang out, and the wyrm surfaced, kicking its blunt head back in a pained scream. Gideon’s eyes flashed, and he gestured. Lightning blasted from his hand and roasted the dragon.

“Let me help!” A woman in long robes ran toward them. She threw out her hand at one of the wyrm-holes, and fire flared within. The wyrm inside let out a furious howl and carved its way out of its hole, charging madly for the woman.

Gideon reached toward her, but sagged halfway there. He wiped his brow and panted, catching his breath. “Dammit. If only I had… a dancer…”

“Enough about that bardic magic nonsense!” Jet snapped. He slashed again. A block of ice smashed into the aboveground wyrm’s exposed head. It coiled back on itself and turned to him, tiny, vicious eyes glinting in the sun. The aboveground wyrm roared, and the final remaining wyrm arced out of the earth in response, jaws still working, earth jetting after it. Together, they charged at Jet.

Jet tapped Kat, prompting her to leap off his horse. He held Bluebell’s reins in one hand and kicked the mare into action, charging at the wyrms with his sword drawn. The wyrms slithered over the ground, more snake than dragon, barely using their stunted, stubby limbs. Long tails flicked behind them, the vestigial spikes down their spines worn to mere bumps. One sported a tiny pair of wings, while the other bore no wings at all.

Jet clashed with the lead wyrm. Sparks flew from his sword where teeth met steel. The wyrm shoved him and Bluebell both back. The trained warhorse dug in her hooves and let out a fierce cry, and Jet used the moment to slice at the wyrm’s neck. His sword barely scored a scratch in the wyrm’s thick, yielding skin. As the second wyrm closed in, he turned Bluebell about and chased deeper into the field beside the road, leading the wyrms away from the civilians.

Barely a second after he passed the wyrms by, Gideon revived, sitting up in his saddle. He urged his horse forward. The untrained gelding, more used to quiet walks in the countryside than combat, balked and shook his head, refusing to take a step closer to the wyrms. Leo grabbed onto Gideon’s back, terror written across his face. He shook his head profusely, refusing to get a single inch closer, just like the gelding.

Scowling, Gideon thrust out his tome from where he sat, letting the pages flip. Lightning flickered in his other palm. He sat up, holding on to the horse with his thighs. “Lightning Ray! Critical-cast! Die, dragons, die!”

Two blasts of lightning shot from his hand. The wyrm with the cut on its throat dropped itself low, and the bolt flew over its head, but the other took a ray to the chest and dropped, singed and twitching.

Jet tapped Bluebell, and the mare wheeled about and darted in. He swung out sideways, dangling from Bluebell’s side, and, using Bluebell’s speed and his own strength, struck at the wyrm’s throat again. This time, his blade bit through. The wyrm screeched and trembled, thrashing like a bisected earthworm as it died. Blood spurted over the fields, dyeing the wildflowers red.

The wyrms defeated, Jet hauled himself upright in the saddle and rode back over to the party. “Is anyone hurt?”

“I’m exhausted,” Gideon sighed dramatically. “And my crotch hurts from this damn saddle.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jet muttered. He slashed the blood off his blade, then drew a rag from his saddlebags and began to wipe it, paying close attention to the inscribed enchantment. Kat reached up, and he hauled her up on Bluebell once more.

“Hey! Don’t ignore my pain,” Gideon protested.

The female mage ran up alongside them as Jet returned to the party, her eyes shining. “Wow. You took out those wyrms like it was nothing!”

“They were just a few dragons,” Gideon said casually, puffing his chest.

“I’m Hannah, by the way. Chief Mage of Amterdale City Guard… well, more like only mage, but…” She adjusted her glasses and thrust out a hand to Jet. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Jet said, giving her a nod rather than reach out his bloodstained hand.

“No, it was a problem. It was a big problem, and we solved it, and we should be rewarded for that,” Gideon interjected.

Jet shot him a glare. “Gideon.”

Hannah shook her head. “No, no, of course! Come with me. I’ll introduce you to the city’s baron, I’m sure he’ll want to thank you for your service! Ah, and don’t worry about the wyrm corpses, we’ll guard them until you can sell them. No wyrm corpses inside Amterdale, that’s a law of ours. When the corpses start to rot, they attract other wyrms. But of course the leather is incredibly valuable…”

“While you’re at it, could you cash these bounties?” Jet asked, holding out a bulging, stinking, bloodstained bag.

Gideon pulled a face and plugged his nose.

Hannah took the bag. She opened it, peering inside, and immediately staggered back. Clutching the bag shut, she gagged, then waved her hand in front of her face and forced a smile. “Of course, of course! You know, the bandits around here are absolutely ferocious. If you see the Bander gang, do us all a favor and wipe them out. They’re practically worse than the wyrms…

Babbling on, Hannah led them through the crowds and directly through the gates. Gideon shot an excited look at Jet, who refused to acknowledge it. We aren’t undertaking this journey for the reward, he thought, then narrowed his eyes at Gideon’s back. Well… I’m not, anyways. Some of us have higher callings.

People packed the streets inside the city walls, to the point that even with Hannah leading the way, the party had to crawl along, single-file. Entertainers of all sorts had set up makeshift stages at every corner, and Gideon drank it all in, particularly ogling the female dancers and singers. Jet glared at his back silently, but said nothing, refusing to rise to the bait.

At a corner, a man stood in front of a wire cage filled with balls, slowly rotating a handle so the cage spun. “Pick your numbers, win the pot! If you’re lucky enough to guess the day’s numbers, you could win fifty gold! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, fifty gold! One silver to buy a lot for the day’s numbers, or you can bet on our smaller pots for a copper!”

Gideon’s eyes gleamed with greed. “Elly, what’re the day’s numbers?”

Elly turned back, her expression placid. “I can only foresee events when the High God grants me a holy vision. She only grants me visions on matters of most importance—moments when my own fate is decided, or when she must step in to ensure destiny remains on the right path. The daily lots… are not such an occasion.”

Gideon frowned. “But Elly, if we win the pot, won’t that make our journey that much easier? Imagine the luxury we could travel in with that fifty gold…”

“Gideon, if I could control my visions well enough to foresee lottery numbers, do you think I would still be a priestess?” she asked gently.

“Come on. Can’t you give it a try? Close your eyes and… I don’t know, see?”

Elly laughed lightly. “You’re bargaining with the wrong person. I don’t control the visions, the High God does. I could sit here and try all day, but unless she wishes to bestow me with holy light, it will be worthless.”

“Aww, c’mon. Shoot the High God a quick prayer. Just one?” Gideon pleaded.

Jet jabbed the pendant.

“Ow! Hey! I was just trying to help the party out!” Gideon said, scowling at Jet.

Jet nodded at Elly. “You’re welcome.”

Elly gave a small smile and nodded.

“The baron’s offices are just up ahead! Ah, there he is! News spreads fast,” Hannah said, pointing ahead of them.

Atop a grand staircase, a slender man with a bald head and a broad, friendly face waited, his hands clasped in greeting, a pleasant smile on his face. He wore fine robes and a heavy necklace draped around his shoulders. A large opaque, burnt-orange stone sat in the center of the necklace, about the size of an infant’s fist.

Gideon’s eyes widened. He clenched the reins.

Leo tilted his head and looked at Gideon.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Gideon muttered, eyes locked on the necklace. He licked his lips and smiled, looking the baron up and down. “Wonderful, wonderful…”