"Sabotage on the Lightning Wyrm"

“The levitrains are a dream come true,” said Micklebur, a mage in smart purple business attire.

His book-strewn office was cramped under the best of circumstances. But on this morning, it had five other occupants, all of different sizes and shapes, wearing wildly different gear. Despite their differences, each of the five wore a small metallic-green wyvern pin on their cloaks, a sign of their membership in the renowned mercenary group known as the Wyverns .

“Maybe so,” grumbled Kah’terra, a white-bearded gnome in blued plate armor and shield, “but I prefer a slow and dependable wagon m’self.”

“I don’t mind the speed,” added Yumaia, a half-infernal with greenish skin, short spiraled horns, and a carved wooden staff taller than herself, “but I dislike being out of touch with the Land.”

“Rohkud don’t care,” said the tanned half-giant in leather armor, speaking of himself as if he weren’t present. “Rohkud just like going very-big fast!”

“I don’t see the point in traveling inside a tube,” said Dowlin the white-feathered avian, flexing his wings as much as the confinement of Micklebur’s office would allow.

“Whatever your own personal appreciations of the technology,” the mage said gruffly, “they are irrelevant. You’re being hired to protect the maiden run of the levitrain between Colfaction and Dryderry. One of our informants tells us there will be an attempt made to sabotage the levitrain. You will be paid once the mechanical beast makes it safely to Dryderry.” He paused and smiled wryly. “And paid quite handsomely.”

The fifth member of the group had failed to speak. He was Apophis, a golden-hued dragonoid who preferred telepathic communication over words. As long as we get paid, was the message that wafted through the room’s consciousness.

“Fine,” Micklebur said, anxious to continue. “If you’re willing to accept this mission, here are the details.”

He waved one hand, and a glowing representation of the levitrain appeared in the air. “Behold, the Lightning Wyrm, our latest and most advanced levitrain. Its speed is unmatched, as is its pulling capacity. It’s currently under guard at Colfaction Station, awaiting its departure later this morning. All the passengers have been vetted and their luggage pre-checked.” He waved again, and the route between the two cities was laid out in equally impressive luminescence. “The trip will take four hours. The route has been scanned by scrying stones, and will be kept under watch until the levitrain reaches Dryderry Terminus.”

“Excuse me,” Kah’terra the gnome said, raising his right hand, “but how does your informant know this particular levitrain will be sabotaged?”

“Our informant was told by a close friend that it won’t reach its destination,” Micklebur said testily, as if he wasn’t used to having his word questioned. “That’s all you need to know.”

A thread from Apophis drifted into his four comrades’ minds. He’s not telling us that they caught the ‘close friend’ and tried to question him, but he perished during interrogation.

Dowlin’s feathers ruffled. “Would ‘ve been nice if they’d have kept him alive for us to talk to.”

Yumaia absently scratched one of her horns. “Wouldn’t it be prudent to simply delay the levitrain’s departure, until you uncover the organization behind the planned attack?”

Micklebur bristled again. “We cannot delay the maiden journey. Tickets and cargo slips have been purchased not just for this journey, but for several more following, in both directions. To delay even one of the passages would cause extreme financial stress.”

“I’m guessing you don’t have enough room to fill the carriages with troops and mages to ensure a safe journey?” Dowlin asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Micklebur replied. “We barely have enough room for you five. As it is, you’ll have to ride in one of the baggage coaches.”

“You not gonna be riding, fancy man?” said Rohkud. “So, if big crash-boom, you stay safe?”

Kah’terra raised his hand again. “What my perceptive if somewhat blunt comrade means is, you will not be accompanying us?”

The mage swallowed the anger that had begun to rise at Rohkud’s accusation. “Of course not. That’s why we’re paying you. I trust the five of you can handle anything that comes up.”

Yumaia’s objections were next. “You say the levitrain’s leaving this morning. But we’re hours of travel time away from Colfaction. Are they going to hold the Wyrm long enough for us to board?”

For the first time in the briefing, the mage grew a wicked smile. “That won’t be a problem at all.”

He waved both hands in front of him in a slow, gentle spiral.

The gnome awoke in a roughly seated position, a wooden crate under his ass, another under each arm. He shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs that accompanied being teleported a moderately long distance against his will. Four other sentients occupied the crowded baggage car with him, in various positions, sitting roughly or draped across various pieces of baggage.

At first, the gnome had no idea who he was or what he was doing in the shaking, bouncing space. His mind held swirling images of trees and mountains, winding rivers and craggy cliffs. He didn’t know his own name, his home, nor his occupation.

Slowly, he grasped his name, Kah’terra, which he began to remember was only a cover name that he was forced to use until he fulfilled an oath-bound quest for his clan. His occupation? Priest-cleric for the Hidden God of Knowledge, Ioun, She of the Eternally Burning Candle, Protector of scholars and all souls who strove for greater wisdom and insight.

He looked about at the others, dazed and groggy, each one gathering their thoughts and steadying their minds.

And then, Kah’terra remembered how they’d gotten here: a spell of Teleportation by that impatient idiot of a mage, Micklebur.

“Durned fool!” the gnome growled. “I had more questions!”

“As did I,” Dowlin added, standing unsteadily, and shaking his wings. “And we needed more gear.”

“Wait!” exclaimed Yumaia as she got to her feet, propped up by her staff. “I didn’t make arrangements for Barry!”

I shall send Micklebur a message, came Apophis’ telepathic reply. He will take care of your pet bull until we get back.

“He’d better!” she said, before muttering, “Couldn’t wait ten minutes—”

The carriage they were in jostled, almost throwing the four off their feet. There was a nearly imperceptible whine, too, both in their ears and vibrating through the car’s floor, the unmistakable effect of some powerful energy source.

“We’re moving!” Dowlin exclaimed.

Kah’terra went to the single window in the baggage cart. With his magically enhanced eyesight, he looked up and down the length of the levitrain, then grunted. “Looks like we’ve been traveling for some time, too. Colfaction’s nowhere to be seen.”

“Flowers,” came the voice of Rohkud. The half-giant was lying across a large collections of sacks and bags, face down, smiling. “Fields of pretty flowers, for the pretty lady.”

Dowlin walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. “No flowers, old boy, nor any pretty lady. We’re on a levitrain bound for Dryderry.

Rohkud raised his head, glanced around, then plopped it back down. “Rohkud go back to pretty dream.”

“Well, we’d better get the lay of the land, so to speak,” said Kah’terra, taking charge as he was wont to do. “Yumaia and I will head towards the engine. Dowlin, take Sleeping Giant and head to the rear. Inspect the carriages. Check if anything’s been tampered with. Question the passengers. See if any of them seem out of place. We have four hours, minus however long we’ve been unconscious.”

Apophis, as was his wont, said nothing. He simply stared at Kah’terra.

The gnome smiled. “Apophis, if you would, remain here in the middle of the train. Stay in contact with the four of us, and relay what we find to the others. If either group gets into trouble, send a warning to the other party, and then join the ones in trouble.”

The Dragonoid made an “O” with two clawed fingers, a sign of acceptance.

The gnome cleric and the Infernal druid headed to the right, while the avian headed left, followed by the still groggy half-giant.

May Bahamut the Justice-Bringer watch over you all, said Apophis telepathically.

Kah’terra smiled and waved, then opened the door into the adjoining coach. Immediately, a fierce blast of wind assaulted him. It wasn’t enough to knock him off his feet, but it might to someone less stout. He immediately turned and offered a hand to the more slight female behind him.

“Move on, old one,” Yumaia replied testily. “I can manage.”

He chuckled, then brute-forced his way through the gale to the leading carriage’s door. With some effort, he pushed it open and almost tumbled inside.

This carriage was more elegant than many throne rooms. Rich carpeted floors, intricately carved wood walls, and twisting overhead beams greeted them like an architectural oasis. In each of the well-upholstered benches sat an elegant man or woman in their best business attire, somber blues and deep greens predominating, and adorned with magicked bracelets and necklaces. Kah’terra didn’t need any spell to know they radiated enough arcane power to run a small city.

Before they could advance, they were approached by a pair of levitrain coachmen garbed in red-hued scale mail and wielding stun-swords.

“You two!” one of them yelled. “Where’d ya come from? Yer not supposed to be in ‘ere!”

The bigger one growled menacingly, “Where’s yer tickets?”

Kah’terra muttered, “That was one of the things I meant to ask Micklebur.”

The thinner coachmen blinked. “Micklebur the mage? How do ye know ‘im?”

Yumaia spoke up. “He sent our group to help, uh…” She paused, not sure how much to reveal of the levitrain’s predicament. “To help you men keep an eye on all your passengers' valuables. Wouldn’t do to have thieves strike on the maiden voyage of the Lightning Wyrm.”

This explanation seemed to put the coachmen at ease. Just to be sure, Kah’terra indicated the small Wyvern pins he and Yumaia wore. “Maybe he spoke of us?”

The bigger coachmen nodded his head. “Yeah, he did mention sumthin’ ‘bout five Why-vrins comin’ aboard.” He whispered to the gnome, “Careful ‘bout yer friend. Many folk ‘round here don’t fancy havin’ Infernals too close.”

In truth, more than a couple of passengers had noted Yumaia's horn and skin coloration. Some whispered behind their hands to each other.

“I have half a mind to cast a wave of water over all of them,” the druid said, half seriously. “Let 'em soak in their prejudice.”

Kah’terra smiled at the passengers with all the diplomacy he could muster. “We’re only here t’ help make sure this trip is quiet and peaceful, good folk. Pay us no heed.” Deep inside he felt a different emotion, that of displeasure at those who valued treasures more than the friendship of a fellow sentient, and one who was risking her life to protect them. But he kept that feeling to himself, behind his reassuring smile.

Yumaia appeared outwardly unperturbed. She’d faced such suspicion and worse, even outright persecution, in her time among cityfolk and their inability to look past old prejudices. In the Wild, a sentient was measured by their ability to survive without harming the Land around them, leaving as little a footprint as possible.

She gripped her staff more firmly and followed the gnome in front of her, saying nothing. She did admire the wooden beams which had been magicked in order to achieve such wondrous shapes, and appreciated the skill their fashioning must have taken. Looking at them meant she didn’t have to look at the faces of the suspicious passengers.

She halted for a moment beside one passenger, a halfling decked in greens and browns, a small wand of ebon-wood tucked into his belt. The fellow reached out with one stubby leg to touch her right leg as she passed. She stiffened, thinking he might be trying to trip her. Instead, he winked up at her and tapped his wand. Well, Yumaia thought to herself, a fellow druid. Who’d have thought I’d have such company.

For his part, Kah’terra studied each face intently. Without casting any spells, which would have been an intrusion on the passengers’ privacy, he carefully searched for any unease, discomfort, feelings of being out of place, or an inability to meet his eyes. The only occupant that seemed different than the many elite passengers was the rotund halfling that briefly caught Yumaia’s attention. You’d think he’d prefer staying off such technological devices, the gnome thought. But Kah’terra paid him little thought after that.

At the other end of the train, Dowlin and Rohkud were having similar interactions. The coachmen in this section had been alerted by the others, and the two Wyvern members were allowed to proceed unhindered. There was, however, one moment when the narrowness of the aisle caused Dowlin’s wings to brush against a regal-looking trader, who took offense.

“Really!” the fellow exclaimed. “Must we share our lodgings with beasts that belong in steerage?”

Before Dowlin could reply, Rohkud laid a heavy hand on the fellow’s shoulder. The half-giant added to the weight of his meaty hand by pushing down hard enough to nearly dislocate the man’s clavicle.

“Better place for you to ride is maybe on roof? No crowding there.” Rohkud leaned down to peer in the fellow’s grimacing face. “You want Rohkud toss you up there?”

“No thank you!” the trader managed through gritted teeth. “I think I’d prefer to stay down here with the other riders.”

The half-giant tapped him gently on his still-aching shoulder. “Good idea.”

One of the two coachmen studied Rohkud, who shrugged his shoulders. “Rohkud just making sure passengers like their seating ‘rangements.”

This carriage was much like the one Kah’terra and Yumaia were inspecting, though with less ostentation. The benches were comfortable and the walls and flooring were impressive, if not quite as glamorous. The passengers were dressed well, though with less conspicuous jewelry.

The only passenger that seemed in any way different was a maiden at the very back. Dowlin noticed her straightaway: pale skin with hair whiter than his own feathers, her head bowed, studying her gloved hands clasped in her lap. She hid her features beneath a neutral-colored cloak that covered her body down to her ankles.

The avian nodded to the half-giant behind him, who picked up on what he thought was Dowlin’s message. Rohkud nodded in turn and whispered, “Very pretty lady.”

Dowlin decided not to correct him right then, but he did make a note of the lady’s contrast with the rest of the passengers, before moving on to the next carriage.

In between the two cars, Dowlin leaned over into the wind stream to appraise the carriages themselves. From what he could see, they were levitated by opposing lodestones, one set emplaced along the bottoms of the carriages, another set embedded in the ground. There didn’t seem to be any way short of a powerful explosion that would jar the carriage’s loadstones loose. And the ones in the ground would be watched by scrying mages, or so Micklebur assured them.

Rohkud had a more direct way of checking the security of the carriages. He grasped the railings that guided passengers between the cars, and leaped three feet into the air, then came crashing down with all of his considerable weight. The carriages bounced and rocked, but they didn’t come unlocked from one another.

Dowlin stared incredulously. Rohkud merely nodded his head. “Yep. Built good-strong.”

The four investigating Wyverns continued their canvasing of the eight passenger cars, while Apophis remained in the centrally located baggage carriage. From time to time, he reestablished his telepathic link with them, noting their interest in select passengers, and passing along those details to the other Wyverns not in those carriages.

In between, he inspected the boxes, crates and containers that filled the baggage car. Apophis’ draconic heritage allowed him to detect whether pitch, sulfur, or other incendiary components were nearby. He perceived none, though he did note a couple of crates with magic locks and arcane shielding. Those he passed off as merely in keeping with the protective and equally distrustful nature of the levitrain’s elite passengers.

Eventually, Kah’terra and Yumaia made it to the last forward passenger carriage. That one was the most luxurious carriage in the entire train. Instead of facing benches like all the other cars, this one had individual seats, separated by stout wooden tables affixed to the floor. Expensive paintings and bejeweled mosaics adorned the walls, and the ceiling was studded with stained glass skylights that displayed legendary battles between giants and dragons, paladins and fiends.

Even the normally stoic Kah’terra was impressed, and he let out an almost involuntary, “Wow.”

Yumaia was less impressed. “I prefer the gems of sunlight glinting off a waterfall in a hidden glade.” She added, “But I have to admit, this is rather nice.”

Oddly enough, there was only one passenger in this car, a wizened old fellow, bent with age. He too carried a staff, much like Yumaia’s, though his was twisted like a weathered oak and studded with yellowish gems. He looked up when the two entered the coach, then chuckled and lowered his head.

“This is a private car, friends,” he said in a gravelly voice.

“No doubt,” replied the gnome, appreciating the intricate glass in the skylights far above his head. “And it must have taken a stack o’ coins to purchase it all for yourself.”

“Some coins are more valuable than others,” he said mysteriously.

Yumaia was more interested in the man’s staff than any of the carriage’s décor. Its wooden twists looked to her to be natural, though possibly grown through the influence of druidic magic. Near the top was a collection of golden stones of what appeared to be pure amber, dozens of them, large and small, which must have taken a lifetime to collect.

“If you don’t mind,” she said politely, “may I ask where you acquired such a wondrous staff?”

The fellow looked up and stared directly into the Infernal’s eyes.

For a moment, Yumaia felt a sudden and inexplicable connection to the old man. She saw his beard as but a dirty wisp on a young boy’s face, then watched as it grew and lengthened until it reached almost to his belt buckle, bleaching with age. She felt his hands, currently grasping the staff tightly, evolve from smooth and strong to wrinkled and spot-marked in a matter of moments. His face was once fresh and bright, but through decades changed into the cragged, care-worn visage that now stared back at her.

And his voice! She was certain that it once sparkled like a bubbling spring, but now? The few words he’d spoken were as harsh and gritty as the fragments at the bottom of a granite scree.

He held her eyes for a moment longer, then twisted the staff briefly in his hands and said softly, “I am called Lohnfilaus. I would like you to leave me now, if you don’t mind.”

Without a word, Yumaia turned on her heel and headed back the way they’d come, exiting the carriage immediately.

Kah’terra blinked, as he realized the old man must have cast some sort of Charm or Command spell, though he himself felt no effects. Narrowing his eyes, he growled at the fellow, “We’ll be back,” then turned to hurry after his departed companion.

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” the old fellow said after Kah’terra left, though this time, his voice was pure and sweet like honeyed wine.

The gnome hustled to catch up to the swifter Infernal, yelling her name as she strode along. “Yumaia! Yumaia, wait!” he called out, but she paid him no heed.

Finally, at the doorway into the next carriage, she grasped the handle and turned. “We need to get back to Apophis. Now!”

Again, Kah’terra blinked, realizing she wasn’t Charmed in the least. He muttered a single word in response: “Aye.”

They were in such a hurry that they never noticed that the green-and-brown-garbed halfling was nowhere to be seen.

Within minutes, after a telepathic summons from Apophis, the five had gathered in the baggage carriage. They shared all that they had seen, duplicating much of what the dragonoid had already relayed to them telepathically.

“But why did you exit that last carriage with the old man so quickly?” Kah’terra asked.

Yumaia closed her eyes, reliving that unique experience. “That was no ordinary fellow. He was a druid, much like myself, but much more powerful, and wreathed in arcana and protection. I knew the two of us alone couldn’t take him, so I thought it best to regroup back here.”

Just then, the baggage car lurched, tossing the five around like nine pins. And as they picked themselves up, the speed of the carriage increased notably. The subtle whine of the levitrain’s engine, previously so indistinct that they barely noticed it, was now a scream that threatened to deafen them.

“We have to go forward!” Kah’terra yelled, “towards the engine carriage!”

With some difficulty, the five made their way through the even more powerful gale between cars, and past the frightened passengers and worried coachmen. When they got to the last car, they found the door locked from within. Kah’terra was about to blast it with his clerical magic, when Rohkud roared, “My turn!”

With only a few steps’ running start, the half-giant crashed into the metal-clad door, busting the metal seams and splintering the wooden core. He tumbled into the luxurious cabin and rolled acrobatically to his feet, a shadow-grey spear grasped menacingly in both hands.

Facing him were the stout halfling and the pale robed female. Behind the two stood the wizened druid, his staff glowing a golden-yellow hue, the focus of a stream of energy shooting up through one of the broken skylights. The trio were momentarily surprised by the dramatic entrance of the brutish warrior, but the two closest took up defensive stances. The halfling drew his wand, while the robed female began to weave a conjuration between her hands.

“Hold!” roared Kah’terra. As if he knew his words alone would not stop the brewing fight, he quickly cast a powerful paralyzing incantation that forced the two to heed his words. The halfling’s wand halted in mid-twirl, while the woman’s hands froze before her spell could be unleashed.

The gnome steadied his outstretched hand, maintaining his control of the paralyzed two, while Apophis and Yumaia came up, flanking him. Rohkud approached the halfling, pulled the wand out of his petrified fingers and tossed the ebon-wood instrument to Dowlin. Then, with a chuckle of his own, he pulled the cloak’s hood over the woman’s face, preventing her from seeing her target and hopefully thwarting her from completing her spell, were she to somehow break the gnome’s paralyzing control.

In the midst of this confusion, the half-giant managed a sigh. “Very pretty lady,” he said.

“Fools!” cried Lohnfilaus, his voice now clear and strong. “We’re on a vital mission! You’re interfering with powers beyond your understanding.” He was yelling, but the terrific whine from the close-by engine made it hard to hear, not to mention the roar of the wind whooshing down through the broken skylight.

“I know your mission!” Yumaia yelled right back. “And you’re willing to kill all these people to rescue one imprisoned sentient?”

“They won’t all die!” the wizened one yelled back, “and those that do, deserve it for riding on the back of an imprisoned entity!”

“What are you two yammering about?” Kah’terra yelled.

I think I know, Apophis said telepathically. I can feel it now, its pain and despair. All it wants is its freedom.

“Who?!” shouted Kah’terra.

Yumaia readied her own staff. “The power of the engine. The reason this levitrain is faster and pulls more load than any other.” She glanced momentarily at the gnome beside her, before returning her focus on Lohnfilaus. “They’ve managed to magically bind an air elemental into the engine!”

With a sweep of his massive wings, Dowlin launched himself upward at one of the still-intact skylights. He burst through into the rushing wind, and spotted the target of the staff’s spell. The next car up, the engine, was wreathed in a swarm of yellow-gold insects, beetles and wasps, locusts and hornets and a dozen other types. They were diving in and through the engine car. At least one humanoid scream came from inside.

The avian pulled his wings back and launched himself forward, barely exceeding the speed of the train itself. When he reached the engine, he dove in through the open side access door.

A roar of pain echoed through the levitrain, vibrating through the floors and the walls. “See what pain it’s in?” yelled Lohnfilaus. “We have to release it!”

“But you’re the one that’s causing its pain!” Yumaia yelled back. “You and that accursed spell you’re casting on it!”

“It’s necessary!” the old one yelled. “Only by causing it such strain will it break free of its controls and destroy its confinement!”

“Destroy its confinement?” Kah’terra yelled. “You mean, by crashing the levitrain? By running it off the rails, or into a cliff? You’re mad!”

“If you aren’t going to help me,” Lohnfilaus said, quieter this time, “then you needn’t be here.” He released his staff with one hand and thrust his hand palm-first at the four. A blast of druidic energy lashed out and quickly formed into a swarm of insects, swirling around the four as they dove and stung at any exposed skin.

But the attack lasted only a moment, as Yumaia thrust her staff forward, transforming the swarm into a cloud of harmless butterflies.

Apophis focused his auburn eyes at Lohnfilaus, and the druid shook his head and waved his free hand fiercely, trying to fight off whatever psychic attack the dragonoid was casting. While he was distracted, Rohkud took the opportunity to barrel headfirst into the druid’s stomach, hitting him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Lohnfilaus dropped his staff, which instantly ceased its golden-yellow beam of energy. The half-giant rolled on top of him and pulled the druid’s arms behind his back, preventing him from casting any more spells.

Rohkud met him face to face. “Hello, kitty,” he said with a grin.

Within a few minutes, the levitrain had slowed to its normal speed. Dowlin had returned with the conductor, who had suffered many painful stings and stabs. But under Kah’terra’s clerical ministrations, he was almost fully healed. Lohnfilaus and his two companions were bound hand and feet to prevent any further attacks.

The five discussed their next move, though Rohkud was more intent on the pale woman. He kept winking at her, though she failed to return his advances.

Yumaia and Kah’terra had examined the engine, and confirmed there was indeed an elemental bound within. As Apophis had said, it was being compelled against its will to provide the energy source for the levitrain, and the perpetual, unending strain, both mental and physical, was immense, even for a beast of its power.

What should we do with them? Apophis whispered telepathically, indicating the three bound prisoners.

There was a lengthy pause where none of the five spoke.

Finally, the gnome grunted. “We have no choice. We have to let them go.” He looked into the eyes of his four comrades, then those of the three captives. “All of them.”

“You mean…?” began Lohnfilaus.

Kah’terra nodded. “I do.”

Dowlin walked over and, with a wicked looking dagger, cut the bonds of the three prisoners. He even handed the ebon-wood wand back to the halfling.

Dowlin picked up the smaller gnome and flew up through the open skylight. Concentrating upon the power the Goddess Ioun gave him, he cast a powerful Dispelling incantation, which dropped the magic bonds that restrained the elemental. Instantly, it gave a great gasp of joy, audible for miles, and swooped straight up into the sky.

The two returned to the carriage, as the levitrain began a steady slowing. Soon, it settled onto its repulsor stone roadway and halted with a gentle sway.

“So we’re not getting paid?” Apophis asked aloud.

Dowlin sighed. “Not this time, it seems.”

“Actually,” said Lohnfilaus, reaching into his cloak. The Wyverns stiffened, expecting another attack. Instead, he withdrew his hand slowly. In his grasp was a small metal box. Removing the lid, he exposed a shimmering cube of blue-white iridescence.

“This is a gift from the Elemental Alliance. It was to be ours upon freeing Hyk’tinn.”

Rohkud’s ears perked up. “Did you say, ‘Hi kitten’?”

The elder druid smiled. “Hyk’tinn is the elemental’s name. Whenever you have a need of its help, merely pass your fingers through this cube, and it will come to your aid. Or if you wish to prove your friendship to any elemental, merely show them this.”

Yumaia accepted the box. “Many thanks.”

“It is we who owe you our gratitude,” Lohnfilaus replied. “Thanks to you, Hyk’tinn will suffer no more.”

They exited the carriage through a side door, as were many of the other passengers. “Looks like we walk from here,” Rohkud said.

Lohnfilaus and Yumaia shared a glance. “Not necessarily,” the Infernal said.

The two druids used their staffs to conjure up a pair of magnificent giant eagles. The two groups climbed aboard and headed off towards Dryderry.

“We’ll send wagons back for you!” Kah’terra yelled.

“Gee, thanks,” grumbled one of the coachmen.

As they rode, Rohkud whispered to Yumaia, “So, not the same as bound elemental?”

Yumaia enjoyed the wind. “Not the same at all.”