Chapter Text
The Shadowhand was trouble.
Word spread that Shadowhand Essek Thelyss himself was arriving with the next Vurmas supply run to take over command of the outpost. The Captain grew even harsher than usual, ordering random soldiers to sweep floors and clean up messes. Hessia, the minotaur cook, experimented with new and daring recipes with varying degrees of success. The Aurora Watch spent an afternoon polishing their armor to a brilliant black shine. A whole new section containing quarters for the Shadowhand was rapidly constructed and added onto the outpost, because of course he would want his own private chambers and the Captain sure as hell did not want to share.
The young drow Jhuras sighed as she rummaged through a storage room for the best available pieces of furniture. “Mizran, I think I found a large enough bed, but it’s in pieces. We’ll have to assemble it.”
Jhuras’ ranger friend stopped digging through a chest and stretched their back, rolling their silvery eyes. “Oh, great.”
They lugged the headboard, baseboard, and frame to the newly-constructed quarters that still smelled of fresh wood and paint, and started to set up the bed. “Why does the Captain want us to go to all this effort anyway?” Mizran complained, holding two pieces of wood steady as Jhuras nailed them together. Between the two of them, Jhuras was stronger; Mizran was on the skinny side, even for a drow. “It’s an outpost, not a retreat.”
“Because he’s the Shadowhand,” hissed Jhuras. “Haven’t you heard of him?”
The ranger scoffed. “I don’t really follow politics.”
“Well, rumour has it he’s young, and a new soul, but he’s still a super powerful mage,” Jhuras explained, gesticulating with her hammer. She was a student of magic herself, and did not know if Mizran realized just how big a deal the Shadowhand was. “He actually invented a few dunamantic spells. And,” she added, “you know that if he’s the Shadowhand he has to be all ruthless and shifty, working with spies and interrogating prisoners and stuff. Also he’s a Thelyss so, you know, the Captain doesn’t want to piss him off.”
“Doesn’t sound very fun,” said Mizran wryly. They got up and shoved the bed into the corner, and heaved the mattress into place.
“It makes sense, though,” said Jhuras, throwing her long braid over her shoulder as they made the bed with freshly-washed linens. “The Captain notified the Bright Queen about how we’ve started running into Empire delving parties, and the Shadowhand knows more about the Empire than most. And some of the things we’ve pulled up from the city are definitely related to dunamis, I’m just not sure how.”
“Well, let’s hope he doesn’t get us all killed,” Mizran muttered, tossing the biggest, fluffiest pillows they could find onto the bed. “The last thing we need is a rich kid playing soldier.”
***
The Shadowhand was scary. Scary and hot.
He arrived with several people from Vurmas bringing supplies and reinforcements. There was so much work to do that Mizran almost didn’t notice the dark, floating figure – but then, there was not much that escaped Mizran’s notice. They paused while rolling a barrel of salted meat into the outpost, staring as the figure inclined his head towards the Captain, who gave a smart salute. The way he drifted over the ground was, frankly, unsettling. Ghostly.
Mizran busied themselves with stacking and sorting foodstuffs near the main room, placing crates where Hessia directed them, and watching as the Captain introduced the Shadowhand to the outpost mages. Jhuras, Mizran noticed, did a poor job of hiding how intimidated she was, her round face projecting anxiety as she kept her eyes on the floor. The Shadowhand, if he noticed, did not comment on it.
As the Shadowhand and the Captain moved on to inspect the perimeter, Mizran went over to Jhuras who was scowling at their new commander’s back. “What d’you think?” they asked in a low voice.
Jhuras nervously held her arms to her body as if seeking warmth. “He seems kind of frightening. Polite and soft-spoken, but that’s almost worse, isn’t it?” She suppressed a shudder. “I couldn’t get a read on him, though you might, Mizran. It was almost like there was nothing there.”
“Mm,” Mizran agreed, looking after the Shadowhand as he disappeared out the door. “He’s clearly dangerous. Only the Bright Queen knows what he’s done during the war. And that floating gives me the creeps.”
“And,” Jhuras added with sudden vehemence, “he is way too hot. I never trust anyone that attractive. They’re always stuck up and think they can get whatever they want.”
“That cloak was pretty fancy,” Mizran noted, being rather a poor judge of hotness.
“Who wears purple in the middle of the Biting North?”
“That fur looked comfy. And expensive.”
“How does he keep his hair looking so good?”
Mizran raised their eyebrows at Jhuras. “Do you have a crush on the boss?”
“No.” Jhuras planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t trust him. He’ll probably steal all the artefacts he uncovers and use them for secretive evil magic. My cousin told me he’s very ambitious. Ruthless, even.”
The ranger shrugged their narrow shoulders. “Think what you want, but don’t go spreading it around. You know what gossip’s like around here.”
***
The Shadowhand, it turned out, was a huge nerd.
It took a little while for Jhuras to realize this. She was part of the first delving crew that the Shadowhand accompanied, where they showed him most of the areas that had already been explored and mapped out. He listened closely and asked intelligent questions, only some of which Jhuras and the others were able to answer. He was particularly fascinated, as were all the mages, with the iconography of the beacons they’d found in a couple of the rooms.
However, it was in the days after the delve, when they were going through the crates and crates of artefacts that had already been recovered, that the careful icy mask started to drop. The Shadowhand and Starguide Uraya Hythenos, along with a handful of mages and researchers, stayed up into the early hours of the morning for a full week, discussing and examining artefacts, running tests both practical and magical.
The Captain and other outpost denizens kept their distance. The unpredictable effects that came with using more advanced magics resulted in dangerous and sometimes hilarious effects – Jhuras accidentally filled the room with fog, and the Starguide grew a beard of feathers. Even the Shadowhand could not hold back a smile when the Starguide sneezed, spraying feathers everywhere including into his coffee.
The Shadowhand’s dunamantic capabilities outstripped anything Jhuras and her fellow outpost mages could achieve, and she could see his growing eagerness and frustration as their experimentation only created new questions – questions that could have enormous implications for the Dynasty and dunamis itself. It was actually a nice change to have someone in charge who, unlike the Captain, understood and appreciated the significance of these artefacts.
“I have some books in Rosohna that may help,” the Shadowhand said, running a hand distractedly through his hair and messing up his perfect coif. Jhuras thought it made him look endearing, and blushed. That was not an appropriate thought to have about one’s boss!
“You’d take that risk?” asked Callin, a half-orc mage. He was still surrounded by faint music after his last casting had gone awry. Lots of high-pitched flute sounds.
The Shadowhand frowned. “Risk?”
“Transport via circle from Aeor is largely unaffected by the area’s latent magic,” Jhuras explained to both him and the Starguide. “But returning… it is difficult. Even if the location is known, the risk is the same as transporting to an unfamiliar location. We generally try to avoid it.”
The Shadowhand and the Starguide exchanged looks. “Well… that is a risk I am willing to take,” he finally decided. “I’ll go first thing in the morning.”
Jhuras was a bit surprised; it was a dangerous gamble just for some books, and he’d hardly had to think about it. He was either stupid, reckless, or particularly keen on magical research – and Jhuras knew that the Shadowhand was neither stupid nor reckless. A nerd, then.
“If you go off course, Send to me,” the Starguide instructed, “and we’ll get the Rangers to meet you and guide you back.”
The Shadowhand looked like he was about to object, but the Starguide gave him a stern look, and he shut up. The goblin glanced around at everyone’s tired faces. “Thank you all for your help. Let’s turn in. We’ll reconvene upon the Shadowhand’s return.”
Jhuras packed up her spell component pouch and headed for the barracks. Perhaps she had been wrong about the Shadowhand after all.
***
The Shadowhand was socially awkward.
Mizran was having their lunch at the outpost when the Starguide approached them. “You, ranger – you’re off-duty?”
“I’m on my lunch break,” said Mizran flatly.
The goblin nodded. “The Shadowhand has returned from Rosohna and he’s a bit off-course. Could you take a couple other rangers and meet him on his return?”
Mizran sighed and reluctantly pushed away their half-finished plate. “Where is he?”
“Well that’s the thing.” The goblin gave them a funny look. “He’s not sure. He described the position of the sun, and a couple of landmarks. And there were animals – large brown things?”
“Mammoths.” Mizran rubbed the heels of their hands into their eyes. This was going to be a long afternoon. “I am familiar with their migration routes. Tell me exactly what he told you.”
Soon Mizran was shrugging on their white cloak and stopping to fill their quiver with extra arrows. The weather was not too unpleasant, though the wind whipped their shoulder-length hair into their eyes, and at times the sun emerged from behind the clouds with such brightness that they were almost blinded. After a couple of hours, Mizran started setting off flares every half-mile or so, until eventually they spotted an answering flare. They should thank the Captain for insisting that the Shadowhand take one before transporting to Rosohna.
The small group of rangers finally located the dark figure of the Shadowhand, easily spotted against the white snowy expanse of Aeor. The bodies of three large white wolves lay nearby, scorched and still smoking. The Shadowhand was cross-legged and lightly floating over an outcropping of rock, and he was reading.
“Ah.” He closed the book and vanished it with a gesture, gliding into an upright position as they approached. “It is good to see you.” Is it, now?
“You as well, Shadowhand,” said Mizran, inclining their head. They glanced around at the wolves. “Had a bit of trouble?”
“A bit, yes.” His voice was strangely stilted, and for a moment the ranger wondered if the sight of them was unwelcome.
“You seem to have taken care of them all right. But there’s no telling what else is out there.” Mizran hesitated, and then gestured at his fur-lined dark purple cloak. “Might you adjust your appearance to blend in with the snowy surroundings?” They knew Jhuras could do such things, so it made sense that the Shadowhand could as well.
“Oh – of course.” The other drow moved his hands as if weaving on an invisible loom, dark smoke trailing behind his fingertips, and his clothing changed to mimic Mizran’s white and grey ranger garb. Mizran was pretty good at reading people, and the odd voice and the pleasant smile on that chiselled face hinted at… was that embarrassment? He does not like appearing foolish, the ranger realized. Well, that makes two of us. He’ll just have to learn how to act in Aeor. How not to draw wolves and other creatures to him, for one.
As they trekked back towards the outpost, Mizran made an effort to be polite, though they got the sense that the Shadowhand, like themselves, preferred silence. However, curiosity was a powerful force and they felt some desire to break the tension. “Was your trip to Rosohna successful?”
“Quite satisfactory, thank you.”
And that’s where the conversation ended. Oh well, Mizran had tried. After several more minutes the silence became almost unbearably awkward, and Mizran tried to think of some excuse to run ahead or something. As they walked – and the Shadowhand glided – Mizran examined him out of the corner of their eye. Was it just Mizran’s imagination, or did the Shadowhand look… twitchy? Had something happened in Rosohna? Or perhaps a constant state of paranoia was normal for a spymaster. Or maybe he was just also severely uncomfortable with the awkward silence but did not know what to do about it.
A mammoth trumpeted in the distance and the Shadowhand started, and then looked a bit sheepish.
“Don’t worry, it is quite safe out here,” said Mizran in what they hoped was a reassuring tone. “The mammoths are not a danger as long as you leave them alone. Though if you anger one…” They chuckled and shook their head, and the Shadowhand stared at them. Mizran cleared their throat. “Uhm – but yes, it is safe. Other than the yetis,” they added. “And the dragons. And trolls, and giants. And the wildlife, as you saw. And the extreme cold…”
The Shadowhand furrowed his brow and turned to look fully at Mizran. “You aren’t very good at being reassuring.”
Mizran gave a defeated shrug. “I know. I'm not very good at conversation in general.”
To their surprise, the Shadowhand actually smiled. “Don’t worry. Neither am I.”
Huh.
***
The Shadowhand was involved with some shady people.
Jhuras and Callin were assisting the Shadowhand and the Starguide in poring through the books retrieved from Rosohna. Several of them were old, esoteric tomes and the meaning had to be puzzled through carefully. Jhuras had returned to the room with a pot of coffee and a plate of Hessia's biscuits when the Shadowhand suddenly straightened, holding up a hand to indicate silence while his eyes took on a far-off look. After a moment he said in Common, “Jester. It has… been a bit. That was a lot. But Aeor… interesting…” He hesitated and glanced at the rest of them before finishing, “I am at a Vurmas Outpost to its east.”
There was a pause as the Shadowhand waited, and finally he sighed and looked down at the book he had been reading. There was a small smile on his face. The sight of it caused Jhuras some surprise, as she had never seen the Shadowhand smile – not genuinely, at least. He gave a lot of wry and sarcastic smiles, and even icy and threatening smiles, especially when people messed up. Those were always fun, unless you were on the receiving end.
Jhuras exchanged glances with Callin as she refilled everyone’s coffee. She wondered if he had also noticed how the Shadowhand’s voice had changed, becoming friendlier, lighter, less cold and controlled. Even wearing the mantle Jhuras could see that his shoulders had relaxed somewhat, and noticing that made her realize that, even amidst all of their delving and research, she had never seen him relax.
Finally, the Starguide asked what they were all thinking. “Who’s Jester?”
“A friend,” said the Shadowhand lightly, not looking up from his book. And that was the end of that.
Jhuras asked around, and nobody at the outpost had heard of anyone called “Jester”. However, after Jhuras used a Sending spell to contact her cousin at the Marble Tomes Conservatory, she could confirm that the Shadowhand was affiliated with the Mighty Nine who had returned a beacon, which included some shifty Empire folk. Jhuras’ cousin also told her that the Shadowhand did not have any friends, and was actually something of a loner, so that was a dead end. Perhaps this "friend" was something else entirely.
Over the next few days, the Outpost’s rumour mill confirmed that the Shadowhand, in fact, received more messages from this “Jester” person – that the Shadowhand had invited them to visit, and that they had said something “frightful”.
Rumours flew fast and thick as to who this “Jester” person was who would be coming by the outpost with terrible news. Some thought it might be a venerable prophet foretelling the end of days, and others thought it might be an evil clown. Jhuras put money down on Jester being an Empire double agent in deep cover, “Jester” being their alias. Mizran suggested it was just some nice friend who was in trouble, but got laughed out of the room. If there was news considered frightening to the Shadowhand, it had to go deeper than that.
***
The Shadowhand was a badass.
Mizran was part of a group of rangers escorting a delving crew to a newly-discovered entrance into Aeor. A few of the rangers remained outside, but Mizran accompanied the group as a ranged fighter, keeping a keen eye out as they walked cautiously through the halls. Jhuras remained near the back of the group, looking nervously about. Their friend Tathdael of the Aurora Watch was up front, sword out, chest puffed and broad shoulders squared.
The Shadowhand and the Starguide often instructed the group to pause, exclaiming over various features of the brass-coloured tunnels and insisting that they explore every room. It was slow work, Mizran occasionally shouldering their bow to help clear rubble away from doors and old equipment.
In one room there were some large cracked glass cylinders with puddles of strange liquid leaking out. Jhuras examined one of the cylinders closely, moving her hand over the surface as arcane runes flashed under her palm. “I wonder what was kept inside,” she murmured.
Mizran’s sharp ears caught the sound of movement and they let out a low whistle. Immediately the delving party stopped and took out various weapons, drawing closer together and moving into a protective perimeter around the Shadowhand and the Starguide.
Tathdael came up beside Mizran, who gestured towards one of the many open doorways leading out of the room. Weapons trained on the doorway, the group slowly moved back the way they had come, carefully avoiding rubble and stepping as quietly as they could.
They had almost reached the exit towards the corridor when, with a loud roar, a shape burst from a different doorway behind them. Mizran cursed under their breath as they spun and loosed an arrow – the wretched creatures had tricked them.
Two large, lumbering greenish creatures emerged from different doorways and charged the group. There were startled yells before the delving party sprang into action; members of the Aurora Watch with bladed weapons moved forward to flank and corner, while Mizran, Jhuras, and the other rangers and spellcasters backed away and spread out to offer support from a distance.
Tathdael fell to one of the creatures and Jhuras darted forward to heal him while Mizran loosed an arrow into the fray to cover her. Another member of the Watch was flung bonelessly against the wall, smashed by one of those clublike limbs. It was starting to look ugly, when the commanding voice of the Shadowhand rang out: “Get down!”
A shadowy echo of his floating figure appeared beside one of the beasts, and it raised its hands and released a stroke of crackling black lightning that streaked forward, hitting the monsters and the wall beyond. Mizran had seen Jhuras cast this spell before, but it had been nowhere near this powerful. The boom of thunder shook the room as the two charred creatures dropped motionlessly to the ground. The echo vanished.
Mizran turned to stare at the Shadowhand, and they were definitely not the only one to do so. Only the elite echo knights knew how to do what he’d done – and Mizran had never seen an echo cast a spell.
“That sound may draw other enemies,” the Shadowhand was saying, “so let us withdraw.” His attitude had become suddenly confident and commanding. “Be mindful of the creatures’ bodies; we do not know what they might do. Anyone who needs healing, please see Jhuras. Rangers, lead the way out. Aurora Watch, cover the back of the group.”
Mizran moved automatically to obey, nocking an arrow to their bow and moving towards the door and out into the hallway. Not just a scholar after all, they thought with grudging respect.
***
The Shadowhand was proud and stubborn.
Jhuras was shaken awake by the Starguide, who peered at her face in the dark. “Have you tranced? You have your spells back?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m assigned to the early delving crew.”
“I know that. Come.” The Starguide squeezed her shoulder and led her out of the barracks and through the Outpost. Jhuras stifled a yawn and wove her hair into its usual long braid, supposing that perhaps the delving crew would be leaving a bit early today. She had been assigned healing duties, whereas Callin would prepare more defensive magics.
However, the Starguide instead led her to the Shadowhand’s private chambers, nodding briskly at Tathdael who was stationed outside the door before leading Jhuras inside.
He wasn’t floating, was the first thing Jhuras noticed. Instead, he was leaning with one hand on the back of a chair, his other arm drawn around his middle, and his face was haggard. “Uraya – I told you, I’m fine –” It was the first time Jhuras had heard him sound aggrieved. When he caught sight of Jhuras’ concerned expression he actually scowled, and she swiftly lowered her eyes to the floor. He does not like to appear weak, she realized.
“You lead this outpost,” the goblin replied. “You need to be at your best. I’d rather you take the heal than trance for four hours or waste a perfectly good potion.”
The Shadowhand’s sharp violet-blue eyes flicked to Jhuras. “Aren’t you heading out on a delve?” The young mage nodded automatically. “She might need those spells.”
“We’ll send another mage with her who also has healing prepared.” The Starguide’s voice was clipped and brooked no argument.
“I don’t need –”
“Yes you do.”
There was a tense moment as the drow and the goblin practically glared at one another, and it was all Jhuras could do to keep from fidgeting with the end of her braid. Finally, the Shadowhand closed his eyes with a quiet, mirthless laugh, and drew a hand over his face. “Very well.” His tone was begrudging, and Jhuras wondered if his injury, whatever it was, had been serious enough to rattle his usually unshakeable composure. He was being surprisingly emotional. As in, he was actually expressing emotions beyond weariness, anxiety, and silent judgement.
She gulped and took a step closer. “Do you happen to know the source of the damage?” She wanted some idea of how powerful she should make her spell.
“I teleported here.” The other drow’s voice was wry. “It… did not go well.”
Jhuras frowned and chewed at her lower lip. Teleportation damage manifested in stress to the body, rather than visible wounds. “How would you… describe your injuries?” she asked. “Is it like… a Ray of Frost? Or a Fireball?”
“Are you asking me to rate my pain?” The Shadowhand’s voice was flat with disbelief and Jhuras tried to avoid squirming in embarrassment. He barely seemed to avoid rolling his eyes, but then pondered for a moment. “It’s like… a Fireball. Perhaps a bit more.”
Jhuras cracked her knuckles and raised a hand, waiting for a nod of tacit permission from the Shadowhand before she lightly touched his shoulder. She was almost surprised to feel a regular shoulder under that enormous mantle. Mizran joked that there was a tiny baby body under all of that dark flowing fabric.
The Shadowhand let out a quiet sigh of relief as the healing spell took hold, and his shoulders straightened. He suddenly seemed to realize that he was not floating, and rose up into his usual hover. “Thank you, Jhuras,” he said, his voice cold and professional, and she ducked her head in a half-bow before fleeing the room.
***
The Shadowhand was a traitor.
Or at least, he was on a list of possible traitors to the Dynasty. That’s what Jhuras’ cousin at the Conservatory told her when she next Sent to him. It was all over the Outpost within a day.
“That’s probably why the Starguide took the reports to Rosohna instead of him this time,” said Tathdael, hanging around the coffee station in full armor. “He wants to stay as far away from that city as he can.”
Mizran raised their eyebrows and took a pensive sip from their chipped mug, grimaced, and added more sugar. “You heard Jhuras – he’s a complete nerd. No way he would do anything so stupid and dangerous as to turn traitor.”
The taller drow was still not convinced. “Ah, but he already has connections to the Empire through that group of foreigners who returned the beacon. The Strong Nine, or whatever their name is.”
“If anything, returning the beacon made them enemies of the Empire,” Mizran pointed out. “Besides, it’s too obvious.” At Tathdael’s confused expression, Mizran explained, somewhat impatiently, “The Shadowhand is smart. If he really was a traitor to the Dynasty and was working with the Empire, why would he allow himself to be seen with the Strong Nine?”
There was a pause while Tathdael mulled this over, and he gave a reluctant nod. “You may have a point. But why is he avoiding Rosohna?”
“Wouldn’t you, if you were accused of treason?” said Mizran, draining their cup. “Besides, he wants to be here when this Jester person arrives.”
Tathdael nodded sagely. “Ah yes, the evil clown. They should be arriving soon.”
“Speaking of which, we should return to our posts.” Mizran clapped Tathdael’s large shoulder and accepted a couple of cookies from Hessia before heading outside, pulling their cloak around their narrow body. The cold hit their face in an unforgiving icy blast, and they shimmied rapidly up to the hidden platform, relieving the other ranger on lookout duty.
Not an hour later, while munching on their last cookie, Mizran spied a group approaching the outpost and let out a warning whistle. It was a clear day and the group was quite a way’s off, which gave them more than enough time to prepare. The whistles spread through the outpost, and Mizran watched as people moved equipment inside the illusory spires, extinguished the forge, and pinned down the flaps of the camouflaged tents. From their lookout, Mizran hunkered down within the top of an illusory spire, keeping their keen eyes on the group.
Mizran watched as the Aurora Watch, Tathdael included, burst out of the snow and accosted the strangers. All seemed to go well, and soon the group approached the outpost. Mizran looked curiously down at the multicolored group, comprised of a large variety of species with rather shocking fashion sense. This was not what they had expected. Which one was Jester?
As the Shadowhand emerged from the main doorway, one of the group ran forward and flung her arms tightly around him. It was actually pretty funny to see the Shadowhand’s perpetual “I’m surrounded by idiots” persona drop, even if just for a moment. “It is good to see you, Jester,” the voice floated up. Huh. She did not look like an evil clown, or a prophet, or a double agent. The Shadowhand gave the all-clear gesture, and Mizran obediently let out a sharp whistle that was echoed throughout the outpost, and the doors opened and the forge started up again.
A short time later, there was a brief commotion as a figure appeared in the midst of the outpost and started shouting. He actually had Tathdael over his lap, and Mizran made a mental note to tease their friend about it later – however, they had to admit that not many people got by their watch, and were quite impressed. The Shadowhand emerged with his guests, and when all seemed to be sorted out, Mizran lowered their bow from where it had been trained on the intruder. This was the liveliest the outpost had been in weeks.
After some more time passed, Mizran turned their gaze from the horizon to a clearing in the outpost, and watched as yet another figure appeared. They changed their hair from curly to straight to curly again and then disappeared. Whatever they’d been drinking had looked pretty good, though. Mizran wondered idly if anyone else was about to show up. What was the point of being on watch if the Shadowhand's strange friends were just going to pop in and out whenever they pleased?
And then the tall furry one started praying while his friends clapped and cheered, which definitely was not how one would worship the Luxon, but foreigners had all sorts of strange customs. All of a sudden – Mizran leaned forward and cursed under their breath – the figure lifted into the air, head flung back and eyes glowing white, while an unseen choir of ethereal voices sang in chorus and a snowy wind whipped around the outpost. “What the…” Mizran raised a mittened hand to shield their eyes from the miniature sacred snowstorm taking place below.
Jhuras was not going to believe all this magic shit going down. Maybe it was some of those strange side-effects Jhuras had mentioned about casting spells in Aeor. Whether or not the Shadowhand was a traitor, he sure had some interesting and powerful friends.
***
The Shadowhand was preparing to fight off an invasion.
Tathdael strode through the outpost, valiantly ignoring the remarks other members of the Watch were flinging his way.
“Oy Tath, you get your eyes checked?”
“Anyone sneak up on you lately?”
“Look out – I think I hear wheels!”
Tathdael flipped everyone off and meandered over to the edge of the outpost, where he could see the Shadowhand floating near Mizran and Kelzik, a high-ranking ranger who was practically squirming where he stood. Tathdael had been looking to take his break with Mizran, but it seemed that for now he might just hang back and enjoy the show.
The Shadowhand sighed, steepling his hands in front of his mouth. “So let me get this straight.” His voice, though quiet as usual, had the air of someone hanging onto their patience by a thread. “You told our new hire – our very expensive new hire – to hide from you. As a test of his skills.”
Kelzik nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And you told him to not emerge until you found him.”
Another nod.
“And now you’ve lost him.”
The Shadowhand paused to let that sink in. Kelzik, to his credit, looked deeply embarrassed. The Shadowhand turned to look out at the expanse of snow beyond the edge of the outpost, which seemed completely devoid of rude dwarven explorers on wheels, and looked pointedly back at the ranger. “That is most unfortunate.”
“I tried calling for him,” Kelzik protested, “but he’s not coming out. I think he may have taken my instructions a bit too literally?” The Shadowhand slowly drew his fingers over his eyes as Kelzik added defensively, “Even Mizran couldn’t spot him.”
“I can try again,” Mizran said with a shrug. The ranger’s face held its perpetually-bored expression, but Tathdael could tell by the way their eyes sparkled that his friend was absolutely loving this.
The Shadowhand affixed Kelzik with an icy smile. “No need, Mizran. Kelzik, you will remain out here until you find Mr. Underthorn. And you will find him. Understood?”
The older ranger gulped and nodded, and the Shadowhand turned and drifted back in the direction of the main building, shaking his head in disbelief. Tathdael automatically ducked out of the way, saluting, and looked over at Kelzik, who was squaring his shoulders and setting off into the snowy expanse. The poor man would be out there for hours, if not days.
Mizran spotted Tathdael and approached. “Break time?”
The guard nodded and asked, “Why is the Shadowhand hiring mercenaries?”
The ranger wrinkled their nose, feet barely making any noise on the snow as they headed for the mess hall. “Something big’s coming up, but I’m not sure what. It has to do with that group of strangers, though – the Mighty Nine.”
“You think we’ll actually need to fight a battle or something?” asked Tathdael, scanning the horizon over his shoulder for approaching armies.
“Maybe,” said Mizran. “The Mighty Nine helped the Dynasty against the Empire before. And the Empire wants control of Aeor. They could have brought word of more Empire forces heading this way.”
Tathdael nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’ll tell the rest of the Watch to get battle-ready, just in case. You tell the lookouts?”
“Of course.” Mizran turned to stare after the Shadowhand with clear admiration in their silvery eyes. “I love watching him work,” they murmured. “Especially when that smug bastard Kelzik is on the receiving end.”
Tathdael smiled in agreement. “I wonder how he does that – turn experienced warriors into snivelling idiots with one look.”
“I kind of want to be him,” remarked Mizran, sounding a little surprised. “Is he my role model? Honestly, Tathdael, I don’t care if he’s a traitor. He’s just too cool.”
The taller drow blinked at his friend. “I thought you told us all that he’s awkward as hell.”
Mizran shrugged their narrow shoulders. “He is. He’s proof that you can be both awkward and cool. It gives me hope.”
“Mizran, you have no idea," Tathdael chuckled, clapping his armoured hand on his friend’s back. “Come inside. I have some new information to share with you.”
***
The Shadowhand was joining a secret society of mages. Or an orgy group.
After the visit from the colourful strangers, the outpost was abuzz with gossip. Namely, who were the Mighty Nine? And what did they want with the Shadowhand? Jhuras managed to snag one of the remaining mugs of cocoa and joined a table with Mizran and Tathdael, who were engaged in a heated conversation.
“I’m telling you, he’s having sex with them,” Tathdael insisted, not even bothering to keep his voice down. “Or at least one of them. Definitely the orange one. Maybe a few.”
“I don’t think so,” said Mizran dubiously, silver eyes narrowed. “If he was having all this sex, wouldn’t he be more relaxed? I’ve never seen him this stressed, and he’s been paranoid since day one.”
“I think you’re just seeing what you want to see,” Jhuras said teasingly as she took her seat, and Mizran sniggered.
Tathdael, however, was insistent. “No, you don’t understand. I was posted outside of his chamber while they were in there, and they were there for a long time. I didn’t hear any conversation. What else could they have been doing?”
“Other than fucking? Any number of things!” said Mizran, throwing up their arms in exasperation. “That is the point.”
“I brought cocoa to the room and it took a long time for them to come to the door,” Tathdael said stubbornly. “Perhaps they were getting dressed?”
“But why did the Shadowhand look so nervous?” asked Jhuras. She did not think that the Shadowhand would be so unprofessional as to have sex with a bunch of visitors at the outpost.
“Perhaps it was his first orgy,” Mizran said sardonically, taking a sip of cocoa.
Tathdael, however, jabbed a triumphant finger in the air. “That’s it – yes, the Shadowhand was auditioning to be part of their orgy group! And the human – the orange one – really wants him to be in it – I mean why wouldn’t he because the Shadowhand is really hot – but of course they need to get approval from everyone.”
Jhuras shoved Mizran, who was laughing so hard that he was almost throwing up his hot cocoa. “You’ve mentioned the orange human a couple times,” she remarked, turning to Tathdael. “Why him in particular?”
Tathdael leaned forward, eyes gleaming in a way that Jhuras thought was almost manic. “They had tender words at the door of the Shadowhand’s chambers before they left.”
Mizran stopped laughing at that, and Jhuras blinked in surprise. The silence stretched. “What did they say?”
“The human told the Shadowhand to breathe.”
“And?” prompted Jhuras.
“And he touched his arm. And his face.”
“And?”
“And he said it would take time.”
“What would?”
Tathdael shrugged and leaned back. “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
Jhuras and Mizran looked at each other dubiously. “That could mean anything,” said Mizran, but the ranger was starting to look less sure than before.
“No – you don’t understand.” Tathdael slapped the table with his large hand, rattling their mugs. “You could slice the sexual tension with a dagger. It was a highly-charged moment, I’m telling you! It was almost embarrassing to be there while they were staring into each others’ eyes.”
“That does not mean the whole group is having sex,” Mizran pointed out.
“A lot of them are clearly having sex with each other,” Jhuras said, waving a hand dismissively.
The ranger frowned at Jhuras. “How can you tell?”
The mage had tried to explain sexual chemistry to her friend before, and had failed multiple times. “You just do. But,” she continued, “it does not mean that the Shadowhand is joining their group, Tathdael.”
“They have a bit of a, shall we say, scandalous reputation,” said the guardsman. “I was posted at the palace before Aeor, and they just showed up in bathrobes one day! They have absolutely no shame. And Lord Bilan says that some of them just walk around their house naked.” The guardsman lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Sex-crazed foreigners like them would definitely want to recruit the Shadowhand into their orgy group –”
“He is very hot,” Jhuras agreed.
“– and the orange one has probably been trying to convince him for some time.” At Mizran’s skeptical look, Tathdael crossed his arms and snorted. “What, I suppose either of you have a better theory?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” said Jhuras. She stifled a grin as the two other drow looked at her eagerly. “It’s all about the name – Mighty Nine, right? But there are seven of them.”
“Yeah, that confused me too,” said Mizran.
Jhuras leaned her elbows on the table and flung her braid over her shoulder, eager to explain her theory. “So I started to think, what is the significance of the number nine? What are there nine of? And then it hit me.” She let the suspense draw out a little, and then announced, “The schools of magic!”
Her friends did not look as impressed as she’d hoped. “Okay…” said Tathdael, pretending to follow her train of thought but clearly not doing so.
Jhuras rolled her eyes. “Think about it. The Mighty Nine are clearly an international secret society of mages, recruited from all over the continent, each of whom is a master in their respective school. The Shadowhand would be the perfect candidate to represent dunamancy.”
“No, no, no,” said Tathdael, waving his hands dismissively. “There are clearly people in that group who are more muscle than mage. They can’t all be powerful magic-casters.”
“Why not?” said Jhuras. “The little one with the crossbow looks like a sniper, but she made illusions of the dangerous people we’re looking out for. I copied them, and even though it was a cantrip it was a clever bit of spellwork. She could be the representative for illusion! And that tall furry one who started floating and glowing outside – he’s obviously very strong at divination.”
“Yeah, that was weird,” Mizran muttered, sipping their cocoa.
Tathdael was frowning and stroking his cleft chin. “It’s possible,” he allowed. “But if that’s true, what does this secret society do? Other than have sex with each other.”
Jhuras shrugged. “Fight bad guys? I’m not really sure.”
***
The Shadowhand was going to prevent the apocalypse.
Tathdael stood at his post outside of the Shadowhand’s chambers. Mizran had left with the group of rangers led by Kelzik. They were looking for a mysterious entrance to Aeor near the northwest ice shelf, and had been accompanied by the new hire, Dagen Underthorn. Tathdael did not like Dagen very much – the man hadn’t so much as apologized for physically manhandling him in what became a very tense and very public stand-off. The other members of the Aurora Watch weren’t going to let him live that one down anytime soon. Though even Mizran admitted that the fellow was damn near impossible to spot.
It was no secret at the outpost that the Shadowhand was preparing to leave, but the why was not clear to Tathdael. A couple other members of the Watch had heard the Shadowhand saying something about his presence drawing danger to the Outpost; Tathdael wasn’t really clear on the particulars. Jhuras was telling anyone who would listen that the Mighty Nine, the secret mage society, was going to save the world. Tathdael had to admit that her theory had legs, and it was by far the most popular theory at the moment, but he also liked his own idea about the orgy group. Perhaps it was both at once?
The Captain had come by earlier to help kit out the Shadowhand in appropriate traveling gear. Jhuras and Callin had also stopped by to give him some of their extra spell components, which he had politely accepted at their urging. (Always so damn polite. It was kind of unnerving.)
Tathdael much preferred the Captain to the Shadowhand as a leader, but he had to admit that the young drow he’d at first dismissed as a privileged weakling of a scholar had more than held his own during dangerous encounters in the ruins of Aeor. That echo had been a cool trick. And he seemed to have a surprisingly interesting and unorthodox sex life, though you could never tell with the rich – Den Thelyss probably got up to all kinds of debauchery in private. Yes, whatever adventures the Shadowhand would be having next, whether he was preventing the apocalypse or participating in transnational orgies, Tathdael could genuinely wish him well.
From within the Shadowhand’s quarters came a crash of something breaking, and then the sound of his voice, with the word “Soon” emphasized. The door to the chambers opened and Tathdael stood to attention. “Tell the Captain to double the guard,” the Shadowhand said, doing a poor job of disguising his anxiety. “And bring me another coffee.” With trembling hands he handed the shattered pieces of a mug over to Tathdael, who nodded.
The Shadowhand did not retreat inside immediately, and for a moment stood lost in thought and fidgeting as he looked up at the sky. Tathdael felt an unexpected pang of sympathy, and cast about for something comforting he could say.
“I’m sure your friends are all right.” Light above, could he sound more awkward?
“Hmm?” The Shadowhand glanced at him in confusion, but then gave a small smile. “Yes.”
He still looked worried. Perhaps it was about the orgy group? Had they not accepted him yet as a member? Tathdael could say something reassuring, but he’d have to be… delicate.
“It can be hard to love a lot of people at once,” Tathdael heard himself saying. The Shadowhand looked baffled, and Tathdael suppressed a wince and soldiered on. “I mean – it can be very complicated. There’s lots to think about. But, sir, despite your reputation you’re actually quite nice, so my friend Jhuras says. And you’re obviously very handsome. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.” Nailed it.
The Shadowhand stared at him and finally said, “Just double the guard and get me a coffee.”
He went back into his chambers, and Tathdael allowed himself an indulgent smile as he moved to obey. The Shadowhand was young and still figuring out love, and it could be embarrassing to talk about such things with others. Hopefully Tathdael’s words had brought him some comfort.
***
The Shadowhand had found love in the most unlikely of places.
Jhuras did not want to admit that Tathdael’s stupid idea had been right – she still held on with some hope to the secret mage society theory – but now she had confirmation with her own eyes.
According to her cousin in Rosohna, the suspicions regarding the Shadowhand’s potential traitorous involvement with the Empire were growing. Her cousin had asked if she’d seen anything strange, and so Jhuras had adopted the dubious habit of keeping as close an eye on the Shadowhand as she could. Part of her mind insisted that this was an inappropriate invasion of privacy, not the least because he was her commanding officer, but if her actions could help clear his name or bring more clarity to these charges, then she’d do it.
Upon the Mighty Nine’s return to the outpost, they were taken to the meeting room where Jhuras and the other mages usually worked with the Shadowhand to identify and test artefacts. Jhuras left the room with Callin, and after a moment she noticed the guards who kept an eye on the artefacts leaving as well, closing the door behind them.
Jhuras strolled over to a storage room situated next to the meeting room and moved her eye to a crack between the boards. She did not get a good view of the room, and couldn’t hear much, but if anyone asked she was just taking inventory. Alone. In the dark.
The first thing she noticed was the orange-haired human giving the Shadowhand a necklace, and the Shadowhand looking very grateful. Was it a gift? Perhaps a locket with a portrait in it?
Then there was a lot of talking that Jhuras could not hear, and she started to grow bored, until the group started undressing! Jhuras stifled a gasp and watched as various group members removed items of clothing, and the Shadowhand removed his mantle and pulled down his robe. The tall furry one was giving the Shadowhand’s body a very close inspection indeed, and the blue one was flat-out ogling. "Well, shit," she whispered. Tathdael had been right.
Jhuras wandered out of the storage room and walked to Tathdael’s post, still processing what she had seen. She nearly bumped into the Captain and had to mutter a hurried apology.
The tall drow smiled broadly when he spotted her and said, “Oh hey Jhuras,” as she walked up. He frowned when she handed him some money. “What…?”
“You were right,” Jhuras said hollowly, leaning back against the wall next to Tathdael. At the other drow’s confused expression, she told him what she had seen.
“Wait – the Shadowhand undressed?” Jhuras nodded and drew her hands over her face. This was so embarrassing. “You saw his body? Is it super scrawny, or covered in tattoos, or scarred, or mechanical, or a tiny baby body –”
“What? No,” said Jhuras. “It’s a normal body.”
“That’s another wager answered,” Tathdael muttered.
“I can’t believe it.” Jhuras looked down at the ground and sighed. “I can’t believe this sexy group of strangers seduced the Shadowhand into their polycule. And now he’s leaving us. For them.”
“Wouldn’t you?” said Tathdael. “For the best sex you’ve had in your life? That blue tiefling is pretty cute.”
“I prefer the angry lady with the abs,” Jhuras muttered.
They had to cut their conversation short and stood at attention as the Shadowhand glided towards them. He gave them a brief nod and disappeared into his chambers, and Jhuras headed back to the main hall to help Hessia with food prep. Of course, she told everyone she could about what she had seen, and several guards, rangers, and mages grumbled and headed to Tathdael’s post to pay up.
After a few minutes the Shadowhand returned dressed for travel, and knocked on the meeting room door. “Wait, we’re naaaked!” a voice trilled out and the Shadowhand went inside anyway. Light above, he was not even trying to hide it. But then, Jhuras reflected, he really should not be ashamed of his love, unusual though his situation may be. Sometimes things worked out in the most unexpected of ways.
Jhuras gathered with everyone to salute the Shadowhand as he left the Outpost. She was surprised at how emotional she felt; the Shadowhand, despite her fears, had been a wonderful boss – she had learned so much from him about magic and Aeor, and his curiosity and intellect were truly inspiring. He’d even managed to win over Mizran, who pretended not to care about anyone, and Tathdael, who only really respected people who could put up a fight. And somehow, perhaps unknowingly, he had gotten the entire outpost invested in his unconventional love life.
Jhuras gave a small sigh as she watched the lively group disappear from sight, heading in the direction that Mizran and the other rangers had taken a few days before. She did not know if she would ever see the Shadowhand again, but she hoped that he would have wonderful sex adventures with the motley crew that had so clearly captured his heart.
And if her own theories were right, then who knew? Perhaps he would save the world as well.