The look the indestructible orc chieftain gave him caused Zero to shiver a little. But as the green monster turned tail and vanished, he felt his courage return. ‘Yeah, and there's more if you come back!’ he shouted, hitching up his belt.

He jogged over to join his friends. ‘Everyone okay?’ he inquired.

‘I think so,’ replied Khalin, his hands on his thighs as he caught his wind after the combat and flat-out sprint. He looked across to Tradden who'd taken a lot of punishment. The young human was brushing himself down but already seemed to be recovering. Nodding appreciatively to the fighter, Khalin turned to clap a reassuring hand on Beltak's shoulder, an unspoken thank you to the scribe for his efforts and growing bravery in the battle. The dwarf then strode eagerly towards the newcomer, who had gone from being a whirlwind of activity in the skirmish to looking a touch wistful now the situation had calmed down. Fixing what he hoped was a warm and welcoming smile (though it was the Krakens who were the newcomers) he approached the female dwarf.

‘Hail and well met, m'lady!’ he opened, affably. ‘Thank you for your timely help — you are a formidable force in battle. I am Khalin… of The Islands,’ he began, remembering the unfortunate first impression his clan name had created with Rangrim. ‘May I introduce Kireth, Zero, Tradden and Beltak, also from across the sea.’ The dwarf indicated each of his companions with a sweep of his hand, Tradden and Beltak the last of the group to amble back to the centre of the circle.

‘May I ask your name? You were but a statue only moments ago!’ he continued, as the incredulity of the woman's transformation bled through into his voice.

‘Er… the fourth day of Tarsakh, in the Year of the Sudden Journey,’ Zero answered, a little taken aback at the dwarf's bluntness.

Dusting himself down, gingerly, Tradden cricked his neck, wandered over, and then bowed as low as he could to the new dwarf, despite her outburst.

‘Tradden Aversward at your service, m'lady,’ he offered. Without really stopping to catch breath, the fighter followed this pleasantry up with a rather direct question which caused more than one pair of eyes to raise to the heavens. ‘So, hey, what's it like to be stone for… thirteen?… years? Can you, like, see or feel stuff, still?’

Khalin rolled his eyes at the young fighter and then glanced over to Kireth, who had remained notably silent so far, giving the elf a confused frown while raising his own palms out and upwards in the universal sign that asked “What in Moradin's name was going on?”. The mage raised an eyebrow in return in a look that Khalin couldn't decide was of knowingness, condescension or mild surprise. Knowing Kireth, the first two.

Still slightly perturbed by the gruffness of the newcomer, and Tradden's impetuous response, Khalin slowly moved round into her eye line, and palms now downwards in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture of calm, spoke slowly and softly: ‘Why don't you start from the beginning?’

Khalin had a thousand questions, but the brief gust of wind brought unease. ‘M'… Brünhilde,’ the dwarf swiftly corrected himself, ‘Perifas did not send us — we don't know who he is, I'm afraid. But we should continue this conversation while we move. The last time the wind picked up, the lightning came with it — freeing you, mercifully — but I think it would be unwise for us to be here if it strikes again. We're also exposed — we need cover and a chance to rest.’

With that he was a marshal again, barking orders: ‘Kireth, we need those vines burnt so no other poor soul gets caught in them… please,’ he added with a brief smile, lest the haughty half-elf take issue with being ordered about. ‘Tradden, Zero, retrieve the packs,’ he nodded to the two humans. ‘Beltak, see if we have some rations to hand. Brünhilde is no doubt hungry. We can get a proper camp going when we get to a safer location.’

‘What is this place?’ he asked Brünhilde as he motioned for the two of them to head towards the northern edge of the circle, and cover.

Climbing up onto Tradden's shoulders and poking about in the faces of gods for a second time did not appeal too much to Zero. The rogue had just done a circuit of the circle at speed at the end of the battle and he needed a few moments to catch his breath.

Trying to avoid Khalin's eye and the inevitable enthusiastic call from Tradden, he sloped to one side and began to study the corpses laid around the circle. What appeared to be the leader had fled, but the larger orcs and the hobgoblin wizard were close to him.

The thing had had a staff at one point; where was it? Then it clicked for Zero, it would be over to the east a bit, where the creatures had swapped positions.

Shrugging his shoulders, he wandered back to where the main melee had taken place and took a good look at the fallen orcs.

‘Hey, Beltak!’ the rogue called. ‘Have you seen this before?’ he asked, pointing at the orc's leather jerkin.

At the same time the inevitable call came from Tradden to get the bags and he nodded at the oncoming scribe and headed off to help the young fighter.

With his usual enthusiasm, Tradden had loped off to the statues to see about retrieving the packs and had finally convinced Zero to join him. Straining his arms he got the portly rogue up to Moradin's head to fetch Khalin's pack.

Retrieving them was easier and by the time Beltak had finished examining the orc's jerkin, the pair were up and at Pelor's head, retrieving Zero's lighter pack from the hole.

As Zero passed the warlord's pack back to Khalin, Tradden slid his own pack back into place. The group were now all clustered at the northern end of the circle, under the shadows of Pelor, and without the sun the air had a chilly touch. Shuddering, Tradden vocalised what he thought most of them were thinking.

‘Not much point setting out now,’ he stated with a faraway look to the mountains. ‘These light easterly winds and the way the clouds lie makes me think it will be a cold night, so if Kireth is going to set a big bonfire going, that is fine by me!’

He took a sideways look at Brünhilde. ‘Erm, assuming this circle is a respectful… and safe, place to camp?’

Kireth knew he was likely in a lot of pain but the adrenaline was still coursing through his veins from the fight. Once that wore off he was sure to pay for it, for a few days no doubt. The thought made him just a little more grumpy, were that possible. The young fighter's wittering about the clouds and camping did not raise his mood, either.

And “Burn the vines?”. What did he look like to the stupid dwarf, a fire elemental? ‘Sure, I'll just pull some flames out of my ass for you,’ he growled from beneath his cowl. As it happened he likely did have something in his pouches that would get a quick fire started on the vines and a simple cantrip would enhance it to quickly spread. He started about his work, making enough noise to ensure everyone knew how fed up he was.

Zero watched the mage work for a few moments, conscious of the huffs and puffs from behind the robes of the mage and the low muttering that the rogue wasn't entirely sure was appropriate language.

‘Er, may I suggest we move on?’ Zero said, looking distinctly agitated. ‘Getting one of those uncomfy little feelings, y'know?’

Once the fire was started and he was sure it would spread nicely he got up, and stormed past Khalin to exit the area. ‘Your bush is on fire,’ he snorted.

Catching a look at the new “dwarf” he simply snapped ‘Wonderful!’ as he strode between Pelor and Erathis and into the scrub to the north.

Khalin, hands on hips, grunted at the mage's exit, but nodded over at Zero. ‘Aye, makes sense. Sorry, Tradden, but it doesn't feel safe to stay here. The walk will give us time to learn more about each other as we march on, though, ’ he continued, looking at Brünhilde.

‘We need to get some cover in this brush and get north as quick as we can to meet up with the others,’ he said. ‘Zero, Tradden, get up in front of Kireth, will you? Keep your eyes and ears open and see if you can bag us a couple of coneys on the way as well. I'm sure we are all famished. Beltak, you catch up with Kireth and see if you can calm him down a bit.’

As the others headed north, Khalin took a last long look at the stone circle before gesturing northwards. ‘After you, Brünhilde,’ he said and followed her out of the circle, the remaining inscriptions of the magic losing their final glow as the two dwarves left.

Khalin glanced back, seeing Brünhilde pause, a look of wistful melancholy now clouding her face. The warlord stopped too. ‘That, is… a long story,’ he smiled affably. If his kinswoman had indeed been trapped, frozen, for thirteen years, then this must be a dizzying time for her. He walked back to join her.

‘This must be very disorienting,’ he offered, softly, ‘but I think we're all safer away from this place. While I can understand the reluctance to wander off a with a group of strangers you've just met, we have all stood shoulder to shoulder against a common foe — that counts for something — and you have my word, we are friends. Join us on the path north, and I will tell you all about it, and we can help you get home.’ Khalin hoped Brünhilde did indeed still have a home.

As they slowed, Khalin gave the order for a camp to be found and with a look of delight, Zero and Tradden headed off with renewed vigour to scout out the surrounding area for suitability.

The rest of the group slowed even further, the pair of dwarves catching up with the mage and the scribe. Khalin raised an eyebrow at Kireth and then turned to Brünhilde once more.

‘Maybe now is as good a time to exchange answers, whilst we wait for those two to come back,’ he stated, loosening his heavy pack from his shoulders. ‘Why were we there?’ he asked rhetorically, nodding back to the south. ‘Well, we spotted the circle from afar while journeying north to meet friends. Perhaps you could tell us more about it, and how you became stuck there?’

He took a short pause, not long enough for the other dwarf to interrupt, before blowing quickly and continuing. ‘We've come from across the sea, from “The Islands”, hundreds of leagues out to the west. After the “Great Retreat”, those who had fled the mainland — men, dwarfs and elves alike — struck up a new home out over the sea. We've flourished there, but for generations we've wondered what, and who, might be left on the mainland. Our scouts set up a settlement on the coast, the town of Blackengorge, and we have struck out inland to find out what is here, and hopefully find new trade links, and old friends.’

Brünhilde almost looked as though she were going to interrupt this time, but the warlord carried on, enthralled by his own tale.

‘Along the way we've met friends and enemies, and it appears some dark evil is afoot that might endanger everyone here. We've already met a necromancer named Skauril, but he seems to be only a part of a larger, dangerous plan. But for now we're planning to rendezvous with our friends, a group called “Altair's Talons”, at the north edge of these mountains. Then, Moradin willing, we'll be heading on to the Nentir Vale. Do you know it?’

Brünhilde watched the two humans set off to scout and her instincts were to follow, but the young dwarf, Khalin his name was, was talking again, at her. He seemed to like to talk. Ordinarily she would not care about interrupting someone, or just walking away if they were boring or annoying, but there was a certain wisdom is staying and listening, at least for the moment. But she soon found herself scanning the terrain around them again, looking at the lay of the land, looking for likely places of shelter, or places which could provide shelter with a little re-shaping. But also looking at lines of sight to other raised points around them, places that others might see them from.

As she gazed about, she half listened to the other dwarf taking through history she learned before he was born. He made reference to a few places and people she had never heard of, but then there were no places or people here when she arrived, so something must have changed, and a foothold must finally have been established. Finally, he finished his monologue with a question she only half caught.

Her eyes still outward she said, ‘I don't know of any of these places you speak of. But, you were not the first to return from the Islands.’

Without another word she then started walking into the brush herself.

‘Wait, where are you going?’ Khalin called behind her.

‘To make myself useful,’ she replied simply, not looking back.

The fire was burning nicely as the group settled down to eat the supper Zero and Tradden had caught. The meal was a welcome one after the fierce battle.

As the flames began to wane and the glow of the embers lessened, Khalin offered a question, without looking up: ‘Brünhilde, you said earlier that we were not the first to return from The Islands. Do you mean to say you hail from kel-Morndin or Deepingwald too? Or have you met others from Haven before us?’

Brünhilde looked up from arranging wood into different thicknesses to glance across the fire at the young dwarf. ‘I grew up at kel-Morndin, in Clan Stonehearth. I was born in the year of the Steadfast Dwarf, 846. I was part of a small party, a privately funded expedition. When we arrived here, there was nothing. No-one. Naught but ruins. But that is what we came to see. For my part I am well schooled in the ways of the land. And I could hit things. Very hard.’

Khalin looked up as Brünhilde replied, his eyebrows rising as she spoke.

‘So it would seem it is we who are the newcomers, for Blackengorge was settled for the better part of a year when we arrived. The Nentir Vale, though, will be new for all of us.’

Tradden stretched towards the faint glow that was the dawn thinking about making an appearance, and cricked his neck as he so often did when sleeping rough. Old Mr Ironfoot always said a hard mattress was best for the spine, but there he and Tradden differed — soft, feathers every time. Blimey, when was the last time he had slept on one of those?

Their new companion, the straight talking but gruff Brünhilde, had already transitioned in minutes from alert to fast asleep — another indication that she had done all this before. A hundred years ago, or whenever it was.

Shaking his head and getting into “Guard Mode”, Tradden made a quick circumference of the camp perimeter, ending up back in the same spot. Just as his thoughts were turning to what could be put together in a couple of hours time for breakfast, his eye caught something moving where there really shouldn't be any kind of movement. To the east, by the tops of the foreboding mountain range there was… something. In the sky. It was hard to see clearly due to the annoying interplay between it being dark and dusky whilst at the same time there being a growing light in the exact direction he was looking. The fighter shaded his eyes and, yes, there was definitely a dark silhouette of something flying, moving from the north to the south.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck crackled and rose and his heart picked up a number of beats. It was an odd sensation and he swallowed to beat it back. It wasn't like it was that near! And, it could just be a bird. No, whilst the distance was hard to get exact, the size didn't make sense — too big. Thinking back to a previous similar sighting, previously, one word buzzed around his head. Dragon.

He couldn't tell for sure, but he drew his long sword, for all the difference that made. Continuing his observation he watched as the shape flew on and then was obscured by the growing clouds. Despite continually scanning the skies it did not reappear. Eventually, feeling silly, he sheathed his sword on his back and made the decision not to tell the others. Let them sleep.

For the next few hours he completed his watch, making more than one scan of the horizon but despite the improving light he saw nothing more than a cloud shaped like an elven blacksmith and a couple of swallows.

By the time the others were rousing it was to the smell off the leftovers from the previous evening being cooked up over a small stove, which was something Tradden always liked to do where possible. A good breakfast was important, as Mr Ironfoot had told him many times. Couldn't fault the old dwarf on that one!

‘Sooooo…’ Tradden announced as the first conversation of the day as the others were tucking into a Tradden breakfast, or in Kireth's case not. ‘About two hours ago I very definitely saw something in the sky, moving from north to south over the mountains. I can't say exactly what it was — but it was big enough not to be a bird, or flock of birds, I think — I think it was a dragon. Like we saw before. That would be one explanation, anyway.’

A cold feeling of unease crept up Khalin's spine, but the dwarf tried not to show his disquiet.

‘I had rather hoped that previous… sighting… was a one-off,’ remarked the marshal. ‘We're going to have to cross those mountains.’

He left the words, and their implication, hanging. If the Cairngorms were the territory of a dragon (and the dwarf hoped it was just the one) they would be crossing right through it.

‘Did you and your companions encounter any of those beasts in your own travels here?’ he asked Brünhilde.

‘No,’ replied Brünhilde. ‘Nothing that big. I've seen similar things to dragons, but smaller, and never up close.’

Khalin nodded, and made a mental note to follow up on these smaller wyrms later. But, conscious that time was getting on, and anxious to rendezvous with the Talons, he got up and encouraged the others to break camp.

‘The meeting point we agreed upon ought to be about a league from here, by my estimation. An hour or two's march perhaps, but we'll need to gain ground,’ he declared.

He studied the mountainous skyline to the northeast through the gathering clouds. ‘The pass was below a single high snow-capped peak, surrounded by lower peaks to the sides and beyond, with a shattered overhang near the top…’

Khalin cleared his throat as the group hiked up what needed to be hiked up, adjusted what needed to be adjusted and started to move forward.

‘I know, I know,’ muttered Zero before the marshal finished with his cough, striding forward so as to take the lead and wondering whether there was actually any point given they could hardly see two dozen yards in front of them before it became hazy with the cloud. The warlord chuckled despite himself — he didnt think the rogue minded that much really.

‘Well,’ the dwarf continued, ‘otherwise we have a fairly standard procession order with sharp-eyed Zero at the front and young Tradden protecting the rear. That only leaves your placement to consider…’ he half-bowed at Brünhilde, hoping this would convey the respect he genuinely meant, ‘…and I wonder if…’

At this point, eschewing pretty much everything he knew about dwarves, which was actually quite a lot, Tradden piped up in what he assumed was the right thing to say. ‘Yes, you could travel in the middle — where we can protect you most, my lady!’

Brünhilde looked at the young human, smirked and snorted. ‘How very gracious of you,’ she then shrugged, lifted her maul onto her shoulder.

‘Sure,’ she said as she turned and started walking after Zero.

Zero had been uncharacteristically quiet during the walk. If the others could have listened to the thoughts inside his head, here is what they would have heard:

‘Dragons… dragons… dragons have hoards. Dragons like gold and jewels. Hmm.’

Zero squinted as he peered into the distance. Then he smiled in recognition.

‘Ahh!’ he exclaimed. ‘Looks like our friends are down there!"

With that, he started a march keenly down the slope, waving his arms. ‘Hello, there!’ he hollered. ‘Are we glad to finally see you!’

‘No, Zero, no!’ said Brünhilde, trying to both shout and whisper at the same time. ‘Those are orcs, or hobgoblins. They are setting a trap for someone. We need to stay quiet and ambush them. Get down you lump.’

Hearing Zero's reaction first, Tradden smiled as he jogged merrily forward, closing the gap between the Krakens and their friends, the Talons.

Almost instantly, Brünhilde's words rang out and without thinking the fighter quickly drew one sword instinctively. At this point the two halves of his body, left and right, tried to pull in either direction, one forward and one back, and there was a jerking, perhaps snapping, sound to accompany the attempted parting of the ways.

‘Wait, no, what…?’ he asked of no-one in particular.

Seeing Zero still ambling forward, left got better of right, and Tradden took more steps in that direction, now somewhat nearer to the movement.

‘But…’ Tradden protested, almost pleadingly, back at the dwarf as his body was still otherwise stepping forward. ‘It's the Talons, right?!’ He looked over at Zero, still some feet ahead of him. ‘Right?’

With no answer from the rogue, Tradden squinted and peered forwards, looking for the familiar shapes of a dragonborn, a halfling, a lithe set of females and… well, whatever the nine hells that big, weird fella was…

‘Right?’ he uttered, to himself, weakly, all rather defeated by the suddenness of it all.

At Brunhilde's exasperated cries, Zero turned, a confused look on his face. It sounded like she'd said something about a bush and a lump. He was still getting used to her odd accent.

Being prudent though, he thought he should have another look down the hill at the people milling about. Maybe then it would all become clear.

Pulling himself together, the fighter stuck out his jaw.

‘Stay calm. Think it through. Stay sharp. Make good decisions.’

He looked over at Zero. The rogue was still ambling forward, waving gently at whoever was in the distance. Frankly, he seemed a bit out of it. He then looked back at Brünhilde. She was looking incredulously at he and Zero… but there was something in her eyes. She was fully with it. She knew what she was doing.

Tradden made a call.

Running forward and launching into the air in a flat, forwards motion (whilst subconsciously performing a perfect cabriole, which was completely lost on Khalin, Kireth, Beltak and Brünhilde) Tradden wrapped his sword-wielding left arm around a Zero who had only just turned round, bundling both of them forward and down to the floor.

Such was the speed, angle and execution it seemed to Zero that he went from standing one second to lying face down in the scrubby grass the next without actually having passed the space in-between.

It knocked the wind out of Zero somewhat and the portly rogue lifted his head up to make his displeasure known, but the thin-leather glove on Tradden's right hand clamped over his mouth.

‘Shush!’ hissed Tradden, nodding his head forwards, towards the figures in the trees below. ‘Look again!’

‘Whab dib you fink I wash abba to do?’ Zero growled through Tradden's glove.

It was clear to Brünhilde that a trap was being set, probably for this other group they were trying to find. They could try and sneak closer, but that was going to take time, time she did not think they had. That, to her mind, left two options: causing a distraction to draw the attention of the ambushers to them or trying to warn the second group, currently out of sight, to the danger.

Brünhilde quickly thought through the spells she could cast right now. A Thunderclap came to mind, but it would likely not be loud enough. She doubted the figures in the trees would hear it, never mind the second group, wherever they were. That left direct action. But she could not just set off down the hill shouting. She needed these others to be on board. Then she could set off down the hill shouting.

‘Come on, get up!’ she shouted at Zero and Tradden. ‘We have to get those things' attention on us.’ Then, turning back to others, said, ‘If any of you can make a massive sound, now is the time. Otherwise, we need to go on the offensive right now!’

Khalin glanced at Brünhilde, who was studying the situation below intently. He could almost see the cogs going round in her brain as she estimated distances and directions. The younger dwarf still couldn't make out the figures well, but was aware these were clearly not the Talons.

Wasting no time, the marshal motioned to the others with him to quickly but stealthily join Zero and Tradden.

Taking care not to reveal their position anymore than the duo ahead already might have, the four remaining Krakens joined the two humans. Brünhilde looked like she was chomping at the bit to charge ahead, and there was certainly some merit to the direct approach.

‘We're a long way up,’ Khalin hissed. ‘If we give away our position now we'll have no advantage though,’ he mused. ‘Let's see if we can get closer without giving our position away.’

He motioned in the direction the orcs appeared to be heading. ‘If those greenies,’ he continued, now aware of the enemy, ‘are indeed intending to ambush the Talons, then they won't be ready for an unexpected assault from the rear, and we'd have them in a pincer movement.’

Brünhilde stood looking down the hill, holding her maul in both hands and spinning it around its long axis, with the left-hand so the head span around near her right hand. She listened to the younger dwarf, who it seemed the others looked for orders from in a fight. She half turned her head towards him.

‘If we sneak up on them, the first thing your friends are going to know about the ambush is an arrow in the face. That's not a great way to find out about a bloody ambush.’ Yet she waited. ‘Still, their your friends.’

Khalin had been as polite and deferent as he could, and he appreciated the frustration that must be coursing through the female dwarf after everything that had happened to her. But he wasn't about to be told how to do his own job.

‘We are too far away to attack, and we don't even know if our friends are down there at all!’ he hissed, trying to keep his voice down and maintain his composure while conveying some urgency. ‘A minute ago you were urging Zero not to give away our position, now you want to unfurl a big flag?’

‘We do have a big flag,’ observed Tradden with enthusiasm.

‘You're right about one thing though, a distraction — albeit one that doesn't give us away — might be merited.’ The marshal looked around, perhaps there was something they could use to start a landslip or something similar, but nothing was immediately apparent.

As Brünhilde looked to compose a response, the male dwarf motioned for the others to follow, and started plotting a stealthy path that raked down and across towards whatever the figures below were also moving towards.

‘They have archers,’ Khalin noted. ‘If they'd seen us we'd have been in trouble.’ There was no triumph in his voice, just a matter-of-fact appraisal of the situation. ‘But what are they looking at?’

The dwarf turned to Zero. ‘Do you think you can get closer to that side of the clearing without being spotted?’ he asked, indicating the area the orcs seemed to be studying from a distance. ‘We can continue and meet you there after your scout,’ Khalin moved his arm to point to the trees south of the area of interest.

‘No cheery waves and hellos this time, just get as close as you can without being seen, and report back,’ the dwarf clasped the rogues arms in a vaguely paternal fashion as he delivered the succinct instructions.

Zero nodded and then pulled the hood of his elven cloak back over his head before heading further down the hill through the scrub.

As he left the group, quite swiftly for someone so fat thought Brünhilde, he dissolved into the brush and was as quiet as a mouse. Hopefully, the orcs wouldn't see or hear him approaching.

Zero paused for a moment before turning around to spot the others. There they were just up the hill behind him. He raised his curled hands out to them, before stretching the fingers on both hands up, then down, then up again, nodding his head over his shoulder. He hoped they'd understand that bit.

He then pointed over to the east and drew an arch in the air with both hands, from the top to the bottom, before pushing his hand through where the imaginary arch had been.

To finish his charade he nodded back over his shoulder to the west and mocked pulling a bow before beckoning the group quickly.

Brünhilde looked at Zero waving his arms and hands around and had no idea what he was trying to convey. She was not really sure what the plan was here so decided it was time to take action. If it was indeed these Talons who were approaching the orcs from the east, both groups could hit them together and turn the tables. But that needed the Talons to know the threat ahead.

Her mind made up, Brünhilde focused on a form, something fast and sure-footed. She felt nature's energy surge through her. Brünhilde stayed close to the ground as the change quickly took hold. Her maul and pack stared to almost melt, merging into her form and she became less bulky and more lean. Within a moment the transformation was complete. Instead of a dwarf, there was an adult deer. Then, without waiting, she darted off down the hill, bearing to the east of the depression below and where the approaching Talons should be.

The group looked on, wide-eyed at Brünhilde's astonishing transformation (the second in as many days).

Once their shock had subsided slightly, Khalin broke the silence. ‘I wish she'd bloody well told us she could do that,’ he huffed as the new deer bounded away. ‘Come on,’ he whispered, as loudly as he dared, and motioned for the others to follow him towards Zero's beckoning arm.

‘Oh dear,’ Zero whispered. Time for the Talons was almost up.

Making sure the orcs weren''t looking his way, he risked popping up above the scrub. He frantically pointed over to the eastern side of the clearing, made a “T” shape with his hands and gave a thumbs-up. Then he urgently waved them over, fired an invisible bow and put on a “dead” face.

Khalin's eyebrows shot up for the second time in less than a minute at Zero's frantic “T” signal.

‘In Moradin's name, why didn't you lead with that?!’ he rasped, though Zero was still out of earshot. ‘We need another diversion… now!’