"Bartimus!" Grozier snapped, drawing the wizard out of his thoughts.
"Um, yes?" he stammered, realizing that he had actually managed to daydream about daydreaming and thus missed his employer's question.
"I said, let's forget this for a moment and try something else. Can we peek in on someone else's situation?"
"Why, yes," Bartimus answered, mentally ticking off the number of applications of the scrying spell in his head. "I planned ahead and scribed the requisite spell several times, just in case you would desire me to perform several viewings at once."
"Excellent," Grozier said. "Let's take a look at what our good friend Vambran Matrell is up to. I wonder if he's dead yet?"
Bartimus nodded and withdrew a small rolled parchment from a hidden pocket in his robes. Unfurling the thing, he began to call on the magic embedded in the script he had placed there, drawing on the arcane energies locked away in the phrases. He felt the swirl of magic surround him and pour from his hands into the mirror. As the spell took effect, a new image formed in the glass. At first, Bartimus could make out little more than a shifting, swarming light from some flame, with black figures silhouetted against the blaze. With a mental command, the wizard adjusted the point of view, drawing back from the image to get a more panoramic orientation.
Behind Bartimus, Grozier gasped. "What is that?" he asked, leaning down to better scrutinize the mirror. "Are you sure you found Vambran? Where is he?"
The diminutive wizard pushed his spectacles farther up his nose and stared for a moment at the scene before answering. "Yes, I'm sure I've focused in on him. That looks like a city street. I don't know what's burning, though."
"Look," Falagh said, pointing. "There he is, fighting." Then the man leaned in closer, right next to Grozier, crowding Bartimus out. "What is that thing next to him? And what in the Nine Hells are they battling?"
"By Waukeen, that's a zombie!" Grozier said, jerking back. "Bartimus, pull the image back some more. Get the whole street, if you can."
When the wizard complied, the three men could see that a multitude of hunched and limping forms shambled around the periphery of three figures fighting back to back. One of the three was a man, clearly Vambran Matrell, another was a woman, and the third was inhuman.
For a long moment, the three of them sat and stared at the grim battle taking place within the mirror. Finally, Falagh asked in a quiet tone, "Bartimus, can you draw back even more? I'd like to see as much of the city as we can. That has to be Reth."
Bartimus sent a mental command to the mirror and the image panned back, encompassing several blocks of stone buildings. A multitude of fires burned in the scene. Everywhere the three men stared, houses and shops were engulfed in fire.
"Our logging," Grozier rasped, his eyes wide. "It's all going to burn! We'll lose everything!"
Horial Rhoden attempted to stifle numerous yawns as he trudged along a poorly lit path, following one of the druids leading him through the damp and misty Nunwood. On the third such mouth-splitting gape, he stumbled over a tree root and nearly fell on his face. Disgusted, the sergeant rubbed his eyes and smacked his cheeks a few times to force himself fully awake again.
Pay attention! he ordered himself.
"Contemplating a nap?" Adyan Mercatio asked in his distinctive drawl, hiking along beside Horial in the near-darkness, his breathing somewhat labored in the muggy night. Selune's light barely penetrated the canopy overhead, making it difficult to spot the many branches, roots, and bushes that slapped and clawed at the five mercenaries along their journey.
The half-dozen or so druids accompanying them did not have the same problem navigating the woods.
"I've forgotten what sleep feels like," Horial replied, yawning again. "Other than a brief nap when we were imprisoned in that cave, I don't think I've slept since we were on board Lady's Favor."
"That sounds about right," Adyan agreed. "I'll tell you one thing," he added with a chuckle, "I've had about enough of traipsing through dripping forests in the dark of night. I'm soaked."
Edilus, the druid leading the expedition, appeared out of the darkness beside the two sergeants. "Shhh!" he hissed, motioning with his hand for the two mercenaries to be silent. "Stop speaking, or you will bring the enemy down on us!" he snapped in a whisper. "And can't you walk more quietly?" he asked before turning back. "You move like a herd of rothe," he called over his shoulder.
Horial opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of the idea and instead covered his mouth with his hand, fighting yet another yawn. Edilus disappeared once more, drifting off under the cover of night without a sound, presumably to scout ahead.
"I thought we were the enemy," Adyan remarked with just enough volume that Horial was certain the druid had heard.
Horial grunted at his companion's humor. Behind the pair, the other three members of the Order of the Sapphire Crescent followed along, making considerably more noise as they crashed and stumbled through the undergrowth. The racket made the druid's scathing remarks seem more apt than the sergeant wanted to admit. The dwarf Grolo, in particular, stomped along, cursing every so often as vines and saplings slapped at him.
I guess he's got a point, Horial thought in grudging appreciation. We sound just like a herd of rothe.
It was not easy to acknowledge the druid's skills. Edilus had taken every opportunity to express his dislike, both in word and manner, since the Crescents' capture and subsequent release by the Emerald Enclave nearly a full day earlier. Whether he used a sour look or a cross word, the man was determined to make clear just how much he disliked having to cooperate with soldiers from beyond the borders of his forest. Horial had no doubts that Edilus would just as soon run them through as help them.
The feeling is mutual, Horial thought. Thank Waukeen that Shinthala is the one making decisions.
"It's sure a good thing Vambran has a way with the ladies," Adyan drawled in a near-whisper. "Otherwise, Shinthala probably would have already let that fellow work off his frustrations on us."
Horial chuckled at how Adyan was echoing his own thoughts. "He might still do it," he replied with a grin, though he knew his friend could not see the expression in the dimness. "Shinthala isn't here to rein him in."
Adyan grunted but did not reply otherwise, for at that moment, the signal came from up ahead for the procession to halt.
Horial slowed to a stop and gave a soft "hold," over his shoulder to the other soldiers coming up behind him. He crouched down and peered ahead, trying to see the reason for their pause. Adyan dropped low beside him. In the darkness, it was difficult to tell what was beyond, but it appeared that a clearing lay not much farther along the path. Moments later, Edilus appeared next to the two sergeants once again.
"We are almost there," the druid said as he dropped down beside them. "But we must be cautious now, for we leave the safety of the forest and will be out in the open and more easily seen. Ahead of us, the road from the city passes. On the far side, among some ruins, is the magical way."
"What's your plan, then?" Horial asked.
"I have scouts ahead," Edilus replied, "making sure the road is clear. Once we are certain we are alone, I will take you to the portal. It won't be long, and I can be rid of you once and for all," he finished.