Their wheel broke.

  Arlo knew it could happen. He even knew it was likely to happen given his luck. But still, a wheel cracking apart while rain poured down around them was the worst thing that could happen to them.

  Thankfully for the group, they had a mage with them.

  Unfortunately, the mage had to hide under the wagon, flipping frantically through his book for the right spell, while praying to… someone, that his spellbook wouldn’t get wet. A waterproof enchantment hadn’t been on his mind when he’d left Magnimar. It would be one of the first things he bought when he had the chance.

  Even worse, the spell took ten minutes to cast. Per broken part. He’d have to cast it at least twice for the wheel to be completely fixed. Arlo cursed as he stuffed the book back into his bag. A [Prestidigitation] shook off the mud clinging to his pants, but nothing could shake the absolute soaking that was coming.

  Five minutes of chanting. Five minutes of rain soaking through his cloak. It was miserable. What was the point of a cloak if liquid was just going to flood right through it? And why wouldn’t the fucking rain let up? It had been non stop since leaving Magnimar!

  “Someone’s coming!” Tsuto called suddenly, stringing his bow.

  Arlo tensed up, but continued his chanting as the missing wooden piece slowly melded back into the wheel.

  “Arlo!” Coradiel unsheathed his blade.

  “What?!”

  And like that, the spell was broken. The cart sagged again, and with a crack, another piece fell off.

  “God fucking damn it! Stupid fucking-”

  “Oh, are we having some trouble with our wagon?”

  Arlo spun around. Back to the wagon, he found no less than ten people surrounding them, armed to the teeth.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.” Groaning, Arlo loaded his musket carefully, praying that the rain wouldn’t affect the powder. “[Prestidigitation].”

  “Ah ah, don’t be casting no spells now,” a halfling said, wagging a dagger at Arlo. “In fact, I think it’s best you stop moving right now.”

  Ramming his rod into the barrel of the musket, Arlo tucked the rod away.

  “Okay,” he said loudly. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to all go on your merry way, and we’ll forget this ever happened. We have nothing you want.”

  The bandits all cackled, looking around at each other.

  “Did you, or did you not, buy a hundred gold sails worth of food in Wartle? We’ll be taking that back now.”

  “Note to self: there’s a turncoat in Wartle,” Arlo muttered. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Listen, buddy.” Orik stepped forward, his sword already drawn. “I personally witnessed these three murder no less than forty goblins on their own. They will make mincemeat of you if you do not leave right now.”

  “Arlo, they can be reasoned with,” Coradiel said quietly as the amurrun raised his musket.

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Arlo muttered.

  Tsuto seemed to be of the same mind; his bow was strung and an arrow nocked, and the aiuvarin already seemed to have a target picked out. Even Shalelu was ready for a fight. Arlo snorted.

  “There’s five of us. That’s two of you for each one of us. How many do you think will die before you can kill all of us? Because I’m betting eight down in twelve seconds, with two left to split the loot. If you don’t die of infection in the next couple of days, that is.”

  “I do like those odds,” the halfling leered.

  “Love the enthusiasm. You’ll be the first to die,” Arlo said, swinging his musket around.

  His finger feathered the trigger.

  “Get-!”

  CRACK!

  The halfling dropped like a sack of potatoes. Arlo didn’t waste time reloading.

  “[Burning Arc]!”

  Another three bandits fell screaming as fire burned through their bodies. Arrows flew, picking off two more bandits.

  Silence filled the air as Arlo calmly reloaded. The wagon fled down the road, and Coradiel started chasing it down. The remaining bandits looked around in horror at the carnage that had taken barely six seconds to inflict.

  “Ahem!”

  Another halfling popped up suddenly, covered utterly in mud and grass. Twirling a longsword in his hand, he tipped it toward one of the bandits. Lightning arced along the blade, culminating in a veritable storm at the tip.

  “I’ll be taking my purse back now. Oh, and the book you stole,” the halfling said brightly as mud dripped from his chainmail shirt.

  The bandit scrabbled at her belt, dropping a sack of coins.

  “He-here…!” she stammered, tossing a book on the ground beside it. “Please… please let us go!”

  “I suggest we let them leave,” the halfling added, looking at Arlo. “They can spread our legend across these parts. Everyone will learn to fear the catfolk and his friends.”

  A hand pushed Arlo’s musket down. Coradiel stared at him.

  “Let them live,” the aiuvarin said. “They surrendered. There is no reason to murder them.”

  “Fine,” Arlo scowled. “Leave now. If I see you again, I will make sure you regret it.”

  The remaining bandits scattered, fleeing in every direction. One of them tripped, splashing into the fen. He scrambled up, racing in another direction with several backward glances at Arlo.

  Arlo’s musket turned again, stopping on the halfling.

  “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

  “Whoa, point that thing somewhere else please? I’m not your enemy.”

  “I’ve had two halflings try to kill me already. I’m not looking for a third,” Arlo growled.

  “Not a halfling! I’m a nephilim! See?” Reaching behind him, the halfling pulled a tail from his pants. It tucked between his legs, triangular end flicking nervously.

  Arlo lowered his weapon slightly, and the cambion sighed in relief. “Never thought I’d see the day being a cambion was safer than a halfling.”

  “We’re still not through here,” Shalelu said, an arrow nocked. “Who are you, cambion?”

  “Ah, Desna’s stars, I just can’t win with you people, can I?” Mud dripped from his face, and the halfling wiped it off, only smearing more mud across his face in the process. “Dave. David Moonwing, viola virtuoso and archaeologist, at your service. Just….” He spat on the ground, face grimacing in disgust. “Gods that’s nasty… can we put away our weapons please? I’d rather not fight anyone.”

  Coradiel approached, Jack and Diane in hand. He took one look at the group and sighed.

  “Okay, what’s the story here?”

  “Ah, good- er… sir? Your friends seem to have the wrong idea about me,” David tried, spitting out more mud. “I just followed these bandits to get my things back. They struck when I was on my way to Pendaka from Whistledown. I’m sorry, can I clean myself off?”

  Without waiting for an answer, the bard cast a spell. The mud vanished instantaneously, and Arlo’s eyes widened.

  A downright gorgeous person stood before them. Unblemished light tawny skin was set against plump lips, framed by midnight hair that ran down to the cambion’s neck. Emerald eyes gazed at the group expectantly, as even Tsuto lowered his bow. His tail relaxed behind him, triangular red tip blending seamlessly into a darker hue that ran up the appendage.

  “Arshea’s blessings….” Coradiel whispered, staring at the halfling like a man possessed.

  Arlo couldn’t blame him. Even with his smaller stature, David was like a wet dream come to life. The muscles visible under his armour, the horns that blended into his hair… he was walking perfection.

  “Okay, you can all stop staring now,” the bard said, adjusting a clip in his hair.

  His body shifted. Became taller, more plain. It was still the same person standing before him, but somehow the allure had vanished.

  “What was that?” Arlo demanded.

  “That? Just my true self,” the cambion replied with a dismissive wave. “I much prefer this form; less people gawking at me. Pretty sure my grandad was an incubus or something. It’s beyond annoying.” He sheathed his sword and brushed himself off. “Anyway, thanks for the interference. Never would have beaten those thugs on my own.”

  “Hang on.” Arlo shook his head. “You’re from Whistledown? Any idea how close we are?”

  “Oh, it’s only an hour’s walk down the Dry Way… though it’s not that dry at the moment,” David said. “Actually, I’m heading that way myself. Got rather sidetracked. I really should change though,” he added, fingering the clip in his hair. “I’m sort of unwelcome there at the moment.”

  “Why?” Coradiel asked suspiciously.

  “I kind of maybe donated some money to the local orphanage.”

  “That’s not bad.”

  “It was the magistrate’s money. He didn’t know it was donated.”

  Arlo laughed. Bending over, the amurrun cackled like he hadn’t in weeks. Even Coradiel cracked a — somewhat stern — smile.

  “You really shouldn’t have done that,” the paladin said.

  “Bah, like he needed the money. He’ll get more, and now the children are fed and happy. I’ll just give him about ten years or so before I show my true face again. Hopefully he’ll have forgotten all about it.”

  “We’re stopping there for the night.” Arlo’s tone brooked no arguments, yet David’s face lit up.

  “Excellent! With you five as guards, I can get a new violin! Those brutes destroyed my last one.”

  “I thought you played the viola.” Coradiel’s eyes narrowed.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “I play them both. Not at the same time, of course… though I can do a passable imitation of it.” The bard whistled cheerfully, then mournfully. Arlo recognised both as spells, the second was a [Ghost Sound], but he couldn’t quite figure out the first beyond it being a summoning spell.

  A massive viola appeared in David’s hand. Fiddling with his hair clip, the cambion grew in size until the viola was normal sized for him. Around them, the haunting tones of a violin started up, playing a steady loop. Setting bow to string, David dragged out a deep groan from his instrument, before settling into a low waltz of some sort.

  “Best get to repairing that wheel,” the cambion said tightly as he played.

  Sighing, Arlo turned on the wheel. Ten minutes of chanting later, part of it was fixed, and he was drenched. The music had faded out barely five minutes in, leaving him to work in silence while Coradiel and the others watched his back.

  Another ten minutes passed in excruciating slowness. Soaked to the bone, Arlo finally coughed and grabbed his waterskin. He drank greedily, trying to soothe the cactus in his throat.

  But the wheel was fixed, and the group clambered gratefully into the back once more. A quick round of [Prestidigitation] cleaned the mud out of the back, leaving just the wet wood behind. Arlo resolved to fix that the next chance he got; there had to be some way to inscribe [Prestidigitation] into the cart to dry the water instantly.

  “Excuse me-”

  “Get in the cart,” Arlo grunted at David.

  “Before I do that… well…” David chuckled ruefully, looking around at the corpses that he’d spent the last fifteen minutes picking clean. “I don’t suppose you could tell me the names of my future murderers?”

  “Are you planning on getting murdered?” Orik asked with a bemused smile.

  “One prepares for all eventualities if they expect to survive,” David pointed out. “Why do you think I was covered in sedge and muck?”

  “That’s fair. I’m Orik Vancaskerkin. This is Tsuto Kaijitsu, Shalelu… er, sorry, I don’t know your surname,” Orik said.

  “You never will,” Shalelu said with her own wry smirk.

  “I’m Coradiel Arthien, and this is my brother, Jason,” Coradiel said, motioning toward Arlo.

  “Brother, huh?” David asked, climbing into the back seat.

  Arlo fiddled with his hat, taking on the appearance of an aiuvarin. David laughed low, shaking his head.

  “Guess that’s two of us who’ll be in trouble if the magistrate casts Dispel Magic,” he said. “Your secret’s safe with me, though I would like to know why at some point. After all-”

  “Dear god, does he ever shut up?” Arlo muttered as the cart rolled into motion.

  “He’s a bard,” Coradiel murmured back to him. “They rarely do.”

  Whistledown was a town sized for gnomes. Arlo felt like a giant passing down the main thoroughfare. White washed houses came up to just over his head, miniature horses passed them by, pulling buggies with childlike people within. He saw more than his share of humans too; in the distance, buildings seemed a little taller.

  A large building appeared out of the afternoon fog off the Mushfen. Sharing the white walls of its partners, the place had a sign posted out front of an azure blue cup frothing with beer. David directed them to it, though he stared wistfully at a smaller counterpart across the way.

  It took only a few minutes to get the horses bedded down for the night. Stepping inside the building, Arlo found a tavern not unlike the Rusty Dragon. The atmosphere was a little lacklustre, but Arlo figured that had more to do with the rains than with any nefarious intent on the locals’ part.

  “Harlin Corthe.” A hand slammed down on a table, making Arlo jump. The amurrun raised a hand discretely — yep, still human.

  The woman across the room stared daggers at him — no, not him. David. The cambion sauntered into the room, a wide grin on his face.

  “Daisy-”

  “It’s Daphne, you asshole.”

  “Daphne!” David corrected easily. “I was just coming to see you-”

  “You owe me a hundred gold sails, you little shit.”

  “And I have them right here.” David dropped a sack on the table Daphne sat at. “I said I’d pay up. Am I not a man of my word?”

  “No,” the room chorused.

  “Bah. Sore losers, the lot of ya.”

  He turned back to a bemused Arlo. Passing by the amurrun on the way to the bar, the cambion muttered, “Mind if I borrow a few hundred gold sails? Those were my last.”

  “Fuck off,” Arlo grumbled, the mirth fading as fast as it had appeared.

  “Ah. Well then, we should probably get out of here, because those were fake.”

  Arlo watched a man slip out of the tavern into the rain, no doubt to alert someone to their presence. The amurrun arched an eyebrow at David… if that was even his real name. He resolved to keep the cambion here; he wanted to see how this would all turn out.

  “Tell you what. I’ll buy you a drink,” Arlo said, heading over to the bartender. He returned with a few mugs of some kind of swamp ale. Didn’t matter, he knew the secrets of [Prestidigitation] now.

  “That’s… uh, that’s really nice of you,” David said as Coradiel all but forced him into a seat.

  Across from him, Shalelu and Tsuto nursed their own mugs, though Orik seemed utterly unaffected by the stench and the taste of the ale. Arlo was pretty sure the man was already on his second mug.

  “Pretty stupid to reuse disguises.” The human belched before chugging another several gulps of ale.

  “I didn’t.” David matched Orik gulp for gulp, slamming his mug down. “Damn woman must have an enchantment or something. Got too many blasted gnomes around here practising their magic in hopes of being the next bard at the Rose and Rake.”

  Someone pushed through the door. A gnome approached the bartender, who said something Arlo couldn’t catch. Approaching a stage near the back of the tavern, the gnome cast a spell, and several illusory doubles appeared, each holding a different instrument.

  A veritable orchestral masterpiece began, with the gnome guiding each copy of himself. The atmosphere seemed to lighten a bit as the music filled the bar with a comfortable hum. Even Arlo found himself tapping along to the music.

  “Jason.”

  Arlo hummed along quietly — he’d always been rather good at picking up songs. They soothed him like nothing else; the perfect way to pass time while doing menial chores.

  “Jason!”

  A hand waved in front of his face, and Arlo jumped.

  “Stars above, it’s like you don’t even know your own name!” David scoffed. “Look, I gotta be honest here. Whistledown is not a good place for me. Is there a chance I could tag along with you all until Pendaka? Orik says you’re heading to Turtleback Ferry, and it’s on the way.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Coradiel said before Arlo could speak up. “Welcome aboard.”

  “Coradiel, we don’t even have room for the five of us! Tsuto and Orik are bunking two to a bed right now, and god knows I’m not letting him bunk with you.”

  “I have my own tent,” David pointed out. “It’s… er… about five kilometres east of here, probably floating through the fen. But I can get another! I just need a small-”

  “No,” Arlo said immediately.

  “There’s plenty of space for him to sleep in the common room, if he has his own bedroll,” Coradiel pointed out.

  “See? We can make this-”

  “David Moonglow.”

  The cambion froze up.

  Arlo glanced around, finding no less than five guards in strange livery surrounding their table. Each was armed with a cudgel, though the three gnome guards didn’t look like they’d be much of a threat to anyone. Arlo didn’t doubt they had spells that they could use.

  “Jason, you gotta help me!” the bard hissed at Arlo.

  “What can we do for you fine folk?” Coradiel asked, setting his hands flat on the table.

  “Fine folk…” Orik laughed, slamming his third mug of ale on the table.

  “Shut it, you buffoon,” Tsuto snapped beside him.

  “Hand over the halfling,” a guard said sharply.

  Arlo snickered. “Don’t suppose you people work for a lich named Sauron?”

  “We would never work for a lich. Your companion here is wanted for crimes against Whistledown. We will be throwing him into debtor’s prison until such a time as he has paid back the money he stole from Magistrate Bagalom. Or, he’ll join the Black Arrows.” David blanched at that last option.

  “How much exactly did he take?” Coradiel asked.

  “Two thousand gold.”

  Orik choked on his ale. Shalelu stared at David, a mixture of awe and disgust in her eyes.

  “Ar- Jason, how much gold do we have left over?”

  “Not happening,” Arlo grumbled. “Have fun paying off that debt for the rest of your life.”

  “You can’t do this!” David yelled. His hand waved at Arlo before a guard caught it. “Come on Jason, don’t do this to me! I love you!”

  He was dragged out of the tavern. Eyes stared at Arlo. The amurrun set down his drink, and began digging through his bag. One sack… two sacks… three sacks….

  Arlo stood up with a sigh, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” Coradiel asked as the amurrun pulled his hood up.

  “I’m going to save his sorry ass.”

  “But you just said-”

  “I know what I said,” Arlo growled.

  “Then why-”

  “Because I love him.”

  “You’re charmed.” Arlo stalked through the storm, trying to figure out which building looming in the late afternoon was the local lord’s manor. “He must have cast a spell on you,” Coradiel said, trying to keep up with the amurrun.

  Mud spattered across their legs as a cart drove past. Arlo grumbled but kept on, peering at the buildings around them. A hand grabbed his shoulder, turning him.

  “Look at me. I can’t cast magic. But I can recognise when my love has been bewitched. This is not you, Arlo.”

  “How do you know it isn’t me?”

  “I- you-” Coradiel stared at Arlo, squeezing his shoulder. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t know who you are anymore Arlo. Ever since you came back to me, you’ve been different. You’re not a nice person anymore. Sure, you’ve always had this strangeness about you, but now… you’re beyond paranoid, you’re vicious, unforgiving…” The paladin dropped his hand. “You’re not someone who is willing to help another person in need. You’re always looking out for yourself before anyone else now. Going to the magistrate to speak on behalf of a stranger… you’ve been charmed. Maybe you should be charmed. Maybe you’re better off like this. But you’re still the person I love. And I don’t want that for you.”

  Arlo’s head turned. He waved suddenly, pulling away from Coradiel.

  “Guard! Excuse me!” The gnome looked up, startled by the shout. “Can you tell me where they’re holding David Moonglow?”

  “What’s it to you?” the gnome grunted. “The halfling’s a known criminal. Any friend of his… well, I’d feel pity on them for not knowing he has no friends.”

  “I’m going to buy his freedom,” Arlo said.

  “No, you’re not. You’re not doing anything with him,” Coradiel said, grabbing Arlo’s hand. “Let me deal with this.”

  “But-”

  “Trust me, he will be taken care of.”

  Arlo hesitated. Taken care of was bad… but this was Coradiel… but Coradiel was something of a cop himself, wasn’t he? Why did he want to help David?

  “Look, he charmed you. You’re not thinking straight right now. I am. Let me deal with David,” Coradiel said. “I promise everything will be okay.”

  “He is my friend,” Arlo stressed, glaring at the gnome guard.

  “It’s okay,” the guard said to Coradiel. “Let’s get him to the prison. There’s an antimagic field in Moonglow’s cell. It’ll take care of the charm.”

  “And then you’ll see I’m not charmed. I want to free him,” Arlo grumbled, following the gnome down the street.

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” the guard said with a chuckle.

  “We have the two thousand gold he owes. We can pay for his freedom,” Coradiel said.

  “But why bother? Let him rot, I say. He doesn’t need charity.”

  “Because living his life in a prison is wrong!” Arlo said loudly. “It’s despicable, it’s just plain-”

  “It’s what you would have done to Tsuto,” Coradiel pointed out.

  “Shouldn’t you be guarding him?” Arlo demanded, scowling at Coradiel.

  “Shalelu has that covered. Besides, he was trying to get to Nybor,” the paladin said. “I think he wants to start over, he just doesn’t want to be with the Rangers.”

  “Oh, you’re escorting someone to Fort Rannick?” the gnome asked, opening a door for the two.

  Arlo stared suspiciously at the jail. It was two storeys tall, human sized, and it smelled… like roses?

  “What the fuck is this place?”

  “It’s the town jail,” the gnome announced. “We have aspiring mages practise their cleaning spells in here. Some take liberties with other aspects of the place.” He waved his hand at a pink splotch on the wall, turning it a rosy red against the white. “Abadar’s eagles…. And guess who’s left to clean up the mess after?”

  “What’s a place like this doing with an antimagic field?” Coradiel asked suddenly. “Even Sandpoint doesn’t have-”

  He yelped as the gnome spun suddenly. A wand appeared, slashing inches from Arlo’s stomach. The tingle of icy magic washed down the amurrun’s body. A headache formed deep behind his eyes, and Arlo groaned quietly, rubbing at his face.

  “How do you feel now?” the gnome asked, tucking the wand back into the wall. Arlo blinked, and the wall was gone, replaced with a row of wands and scrolls. “We don’t actually have an antimagic field,” the gnome added. “We just say we do to prevent people from trying to cast spells.”

  “Smart,” Coradiel said, wrapping an arm around Arlo. “Are you okay?”

  Something was off. He hadn’t been himself. Someone had meddled with him. Arlo growled quietly.

  “Fuck this shit,” he snarled. “We’ll leave him to rot.”

  “No. We’ll go to the Magistrate in the morning,” Coradiel said. “We’ll still free David, but there’ll have to be some stipulations I want in a contract.”

  “Good luck getting him to keep his end of a bargain,” the guard scoffed. “Will he be remaining here tonight?”

  Arlo looked down a row of cells. He could see a face peering between metal bars, about stomach height.

  “A night in prison will do him good,” the amurrun said. “Let’s get back to the Azure Cup, and you can tell me this plan of yours.”