Chapter Text
The first thing Juniper remembered was feeling… tired. Bone-deep, from the tips of her pointed ears to the end of her tail, and with a wound in her chest that ached like nothing she'd ever felt before.
Voices spoke, talking about a wounded kitsune, and for a long moment Juniper wasn't sure what they meant. Then there was a wash of magic, there for a moment before the pain burned it away, and the back-and-forth let her get a bit more of a handle on herself.
"Who are you?" a stern man asked, as someone ran off to fetch a 'Terendelev'.
"I'm… Juniper," Juniper replied, eyes opening, and blinked a few times. "Juniper Goldeneyes."
"Name doesn't mean anything to me," the human said, a strong but easily middle-aged man wearing the heavy armour of a Mendevian crusader. "You're wounded, that much is clear… what brought you to Kenabres?"
"I'm not sure," Juniper admitted, one paw reaching for her wound. "I think… I was here to fight."
The human nodded. "A crusader, then! Not much else could bring a foxkin this far, I'll admit."
Two more armoured figures came up, both of them female, and the armoured man saluted one of them.
"Terendelev," he said. "I couldn't heal the wound myself. I assume Paladin Seelah filled you in?"
The woman called Terendelev tilted her head. "Some," she replied. "A strange newcomer on a festival day, badly wounded."
She crouched down, her eyes glowing silver for a moment, then blinked.
"This is a strange wound," she said, and muttered a spell before touching Juniper's chest.
The soothing, warm relief of the magic was much stronger, this time, and it chased away the pain from Juniper's chest. For a moment, as the pain ebbed, Juniper felt-
ancient might
nine hundred years, and the promise of millennia
-strange, but it faded away as the pain did.
"There," Terendelev said. "That was harder than I expected, but I suppose I should not have been surprised – none would accuse Prelate Hulrun of a lack of care, I think."
The armoured man looked pleased, and Juniper decided that that meant he was Hulrun.
"How are you?" Terendelev asked. "Can you stand?"
Juniper considered that question, then pushed herself up off the stretcher. She got her feet under herself, then rose, and there was a scattering of applause.
"Always a delight to see what a silver dragon can do," someone said, an aasimar by the looks of him – slightly pointed ears, eyes of a vaguely otherworldly bright green, hair that was truly golden rather than merely yellow… all signs of descent from a denizen of one of the otherworldly realms of Good. "Why, with another three hundred years of growth, she might even be able to heal the lame!"
"My lord Arendae…" Hulrun said, sounding exasperated.
"Oh, don't mind me," the aasimar replied.
"Hey, hey, no need to crowd her," another woman called. "Don't you all have a festival to enjoy?"
That helped, the crowd starting to disperse, and Terendelev signalled that she'd like to ask Juniper a few questions.
Unfortunately, after a few minutes it was clear that neither Juniper nor Terendelev could enlighten the other much on what had happened. Juniper was still feeling a little woozy and confused, perhaps from the lingering effects of her wound, while Terendelev freely confessed that she had no idea what kind of mere injury could require such powerful healing magic.
By the end of the conversation, though, Juniper had managed to put together a lot about where she was.
Firstly, she was in Mendev, a country in the northern reaches of the continent of Avistan, north of Brevoy. Everything about Mendev for the last century or so had been focused on maintaining a military effort directed against the Worldwound to their west, a demonic invasion that had consumed the old country of Sarkoris in fire and destruction and ruin, blighting the land.
Secondly, she was in Kenabres, a Mendevian city not far from the Worldwound itself, a built-up base for Mendev's crusaders to use to launch expeditions into the demon-held lands – and a bastion, to defend the Mendevian plains beyond to the south and east.
A city ruled by a silver dragon… one that Juniper was currently talking to, even if the dragon was in human form and the only silver thing about her was her armour.
"To tell the truth, it's hardly insulting that it took you a moment to remember," Terendelev said, with a chuckle. "Besides, it's festival day – a day for everyone to forget their worries, yes?"
She sobered a little. "Once the founding day celebrations are done, though, I would like a little of your time. Perhaps with some help we can work out what happened to you… and either way, I think the attempt is worth it."
"I agree," Juniper said, after not more than a moment's thought. "And then-"
"We can discuss that later," Terendelev replied. "For now, I don't think anyone needs the relaxation of the festival more."
Five minutes later, Juniper had decided that Terendelev was probably right.
She couldn't forget the worry hanging over her, not entirely, but hitting a training dummy or throwing a dart to win a little wooden prize… it helped.
And so did sitting on a stool to try out the festival drink.
Mostly.
"What is in this?" she asked, halfway through a mug.
"It's mead," the bartender said. "Fortified a little for a festival kick."
"Really?" a halfling asked, on the next stool over. "If this is fortified, then an empty field is a castle."
"I don't know," Juniper replied. "Maybe this is just a fortification in the ancient Sarkorian way."
She raised her mug. "They tended to favour earthen mounds and wooden walls, most places. And I can certainly taste the loam."
The bartender was about to reply, but a hideous noise interrupted him.
Interrupted everyone.
The change was astonishing, as if a single spell effect had unfolded across the whole of Kenabres in an instant. One moment, there were hundreds of peasants, merchants and nobles alike enjoying the celebration, the next there were thousands of locusts buzzing in the air and demons appearing in swirls of purple magic.
Juniper dropped her tankard and reached for a weapon, but she didn't have one – any weapons she might have had before were locked away for the festival, and she couldn't recall offhand what she should have had – then looked around, trying to see what was going on.
"Look out!" a woman yelped, and Juniper ducked as a bolt of fire flashed through the space she'd been a moment before. She spotted a brimorak, a four-foot-tall fire demon with goat's hooves and horns, and snatched up her dropped tankard before throwing it in the direction of the demon.
About half the mead was still in it, and the brimorak slashed it out of the air with a flaming sword. Some of the honey alcohol caught on fire with a whoosh and a smell of probably-loam, then Juniper ran sideways to where one of the festival stalls had been and jumped behind the stall's cover before the brimorak could try and find her.
A locust went crunch under her paws, and she winced in distaste as she shook off the remains of the insect. Then an apelike, hooting dretch demon puffed out a cloud of stinking gas nearby, and Juniper began crawling on all fours to get somewhere else safe.
Slightly safe.
"Behold, Iomedae!" a rasping voice declared, invoking the goddess of righteous valour and justice… though decidedly not in a context she would favour. "Behold, the death I sow!"
Juniper peeked up above her cover, then whispered words that came to her lips unbidden and flung a jet of force magic at a dretch locked in combat with one of the guards. The magic missile hit hard enough to make the dretch flinch back, and the guard exploited his advantage to bash the dretch onto its back with his shield and then cut it in half as it tried to get up.
Across the plaza, Terendelev used her much more potent magic to smash a large vulture-winged vrock demon to the ground, then looked off towards one of the walls. Juniper followed her gaze, and flinched – there was an enormous creature, a human torso atop a locust's body, a demon lord taller than houses with wings made of swarming insects. It carried a huge scythe, and loomed high enough that she could see almost down to its knees.
How could she hope to even help in a fight against that? Demon lords were not quite gods, and gods were not quite unstoppable in a technical sense, but… there was only one being that this could be.
Demon lord of infestation.
Maker and bearer of the scythe Riftcarver.
Usher of the Apocalypse.
"Deskari!" Terendelev shouted. "Lord of locusts! Leave! My! City!"
Her form exploded outwards, growing wings and scales and mass, and by the time her demand was finished she had taken on her true form – an ancient Silver Dragon, half the size of the plaza, her scales shining like the interlocking steel of plate armour and all four paws tipped with claws like swords. Terendelev slapped a demon with her tail almost casually, killing it in a single stroke, and roared her defiance at the demon lord who had invaded Kenabres.
There was a crash as an abrikandilu demon like a hunchbacked, rat-tailed human broke through one of the festival stalls, then looked menacingly at her, and Juniper reached out to pull another stall down as a barricade before darting behind a table. For a moment she wondered if she should use the ancient legacy of a kitsune, disguise herself and sneak out, but that seemed pointless – she'd be a human, not a kitsune, but still an easy target for the demons.
Then she saw a blur of motion, and looked around.
The demon lord Deskari had jumped into the air, leaping higher than any building in Kenabres, and Terendelev spread her wings to take off and fight him – and one wing hit the nearest building as she began her downbeat, fouling her takeoff and sending her stumbling instead.
It was a moment's mischance, but Deskari exploited it as he landed. In seconds he pinned the dragon's head to the ground, then slashed it off with his enormous scythe, and just like that the strongest defender of Kenabres was dead.
And the city with her, most likely. Deskari's apocalyptic cult and his armies of demons had been the main cause of the devastation that had torn apart Sarkoris, which meant nothing good for those nearby.
"Let the feast begin," Deskari gloated.
"Hey!" a voice rasped, and Juniper looked around.
A heavily armed halfling had taken cover with her behind the table. "Did you see that?" he asked. "Deskari himself is here! One minute we had a dragon, and next – bam! She was gone!"
He looked furtive. "Listen, I've got a protective spell scroll to spare, if you want to use it to get out of here… or a crossbow, if you'd rather fight. Better than nothing, eh?"
"Crossbow," Juniper answered promptly.
She hadn't known Terendelev long – hardly any time at all – but right now she wanted to do something.
And she was no good at running anyway.
"Right!" the halfling said, eagerly, and pressed a light crossbow into her paws. "Best crossbow I've got! The person who I got it from said it could even pierce the hide of a demon lord!"
Right now, less than fifty feet from a demon lord, Juniper would try anything. She pulled the string into tension, checked the bolt – which tingled on contact with her paws, sending a cool shiver of frost running down every nerve in her body – and looked out over her barricade.
Then she fired.
Her shot arced through the air, striking Deskari, and the Demon Lord flinched. It was an astonishing sight, one that heartened Juniper no end, and she ducked down behind her barricade to reload.
It was absurd to think of the table as a barricade, really. It would hide her from the demon lord's sight, nothing more.
"A mortal gnat snaps its jaws at the Lord of Locusts," Deskari rumbled, then struck the ground with his scythe. There was an earthshaking crash, as a rift began to open up in the ground itself – yawning wider than a cart in moments – and Juniper stumbled, one paw slipping as her footing vanished beneath her.
A flicker of magic flowed over her, then she fell into darkness.
When Juniper picked herself up out of the rubble, she wasn't badly hurt.
That was a surprise, because she could see how far she'd fallen in the light filtering down through the rift, and it was much further than she'd ever have wanted to fall, but… it was the simple truth.
She wasn't badly hurt.
The ground trembled, and she picked herself up before looking around to see where she was.
It was some kind of… underground cavern, and not one that had just opened up. The rift overhead was new, and still showering down stones and some larger rocks, but there were obvious signs like existing underground plants that showed that this had been here all along.
Another tremor ripped through the earth, and Juniper snatched up the crossbow before moving away from where she'd landed.
Glancing around the first corner, she saw a heavily armoured human woman, with black skin and hair and the muscles to match her military gear. There was a sword by her side and a shield at her back, but she was mostly working on trying to free another woman from debris – a much slighter woman in light armour, with paler skin and an archer's build.
And equipment, for that matter.
The women looked familiar… she'd seen them in the festival, overhead. Before the demons showed up.
"Can I help?" Juniper asked.
The armoured woman looked around. "Mercy, yes – I can't shift this debris myself. Though… aren't you the foxkin girl who showed up injured at the festival?"
"That's me," Juniper agreed. "I didn't catch your name."
"Seelah," the knight introduced herself – yes, that was right, she was a paladin, a front-line fighter who drew on divine power to strengthen body and soul alike. "And this here is Anevia."
"Delighted," Anevia said, wincing. "I don't know if this is broken or just badly strained, but…"
"Sorry," Juniper realized, and crouched down to get a closer look.
There was a heavy wooden beam across Anevia's leg, but maybe…
A few minutes with Seelah's help let Juniper rig up a pivot with a rock, freeing the wounded Anevia, and she judged that the leg was… able to take weight, probably, but not much.
Seelah lent her scabbard as the rigid part of a leg splint, making it less likely that Anevia would topple over, but they'd only just finished when a shout drew their attention further along the tunnel – past more victims of the attack, dead or dying, to find a dead human and a wounded half-elf.
"Camellia, correct?" Anevia asked the half-elf. "I saw you at the festival earlier… what happened?"
"I didn't see who did it," Camellia replied, binding up the wound on her arm. "That's all I can tell you."
Juniper wondered at part of that… mostly that Anevia seemed only a little familiar with who Camellia was.
The half-elf was wearing fine clothes, damaged somewhat by the fall but still of good quality, in subdued greens and whites and cut for a mixture of free movement and some protection – while her skin was pale but not sallow, and her hair cut long and with great care. There was a strange snake-skull necklace around her neck as well, clearly enchanted, but the whole picture was of someone who…
...who someone like Anevia should have known, or at least recognized better, was the best way Juniper could put it. Someone important enough. But she couldn't have put her paw on why she thought that way.
Anevia frowned for a moment, clearly worried by something, then shook her head with a wince.
"The tunnel continues that way," Juniper pointed. "Since the way we came from is a dead end, then we should watch out as we move on."
"I assume we are to move on together?" Camellia asked. "Needs must."
She tapped the hilt of the rapier holstered at her hip. "I can take care of myself, a little, but who would turn down help in a situation like this?"
A few minutes later, Anevia asked for them to stop so she could re-do her splint and make sure she had her arrows sorted out, and while she sat down the other three women hovered around in case she needed help.
Juniper turned over a silver dragonscale she'd picked up, which tingled with latent power. She wasn't quite sure exactly how, but… it felt like there was enough there to release it. Somehow.
"So, I know we met before, but it wasn't like we had much time to get to know one another," Seelah said, nodding to the kitsune and half-elf. "And I don't know about you, but I think we've got at least some time to get to know one another, and we've got a great need to get to know one another. Or what we can do, at least."
"Wise," Juniper agreed.
She raised her forepaw, the back furred in rich orange and the pads black, and a little tracery of ice magic flashed around it.
"I don't know how much you know about how sorcerers work," she began. "But that's what I am…and the way that we work is that our powers are… inherent, or I suppose a better word would be inherited."
"Now, this I know," Seelah said. "My powers come from Iomedae, the Inheritor, but yours come from… yourself, but because of who your parents were. Correct?"
Juniper shook her forepaw a little. "Sort of, but it's a bit more complicated than that. My parents were…"
Her voice trailed off.
"Are you all right?" Seelah asked.
"Yes, sorry," Juniper replied. "I've been feeling a little vague about some things, I don't know what I meant to say there. I don't remember much of anything about my parents."
"One would hope that someone trying to make a point would remember to have one," Camellia observed.
Seelah snorted. "Hey, now. We're all in this together, okay? And we'll all have to watch our backs together down here, so let's not start with the insults."
"The important part is, my parents didn't have this power," Juniper resumed. "Or, I don't remember them ever using it. But something in my ancestry touched me."
She gestured, indicating her eyes which shone with a faint golden light in the darkness. "That's why I'm Juniper Goldeneyes… these aren't normal, not like this. There's some gold dragon in my ancestry, I think, though I've never been able to trace it."
"It'd be hard to do that if you had no idea much of anything about your parents," Anevia said, from where she was resting her leg.
Juniper nodded.
"Aside from that, more practical realities… I know a few useful spells," she said. "Though, I admit, they're draining to cast aside from the cantrips… I'm not bad with some light weapons, either, though I suspect both of you are better and I'll be sticking to the crossbow."
"That's fair," Seelah judged. "I'm sure I can keep those nasty demons from messing up your fur… you know how paladins work, I'd assume?"
There were several nods, including one from Juniper.
"What about you?" she asked Camellia. "You've got a rapier, I can see that much, but is there anything else?"
"I may have a few spells myself," Camellia said, with a shrug. "My best work is done… working with spirits."
That made her a shaman, then, if Juniper was any judge.
"I'll keep that in mind," she said. "All right… Seelah in front, Camellia and myself behind, Anevia bringing up the rear?"
Moving away from the area under the market square helped, because the caverns became less obviously unstable, and there was enough light to see by as well – just about.
Juniper augmented the light with an easy-to-cast cantrip, a spell that made Terendelev's shed scale shine like a torch, and did her best to help out as Seelah and Camellia fought off giant spiders and other underground vermin.
They certainly seemed to be very giant spiders.
In fact, the whole cavern area had an ecosystem of sorts, mostly consisting of giant spiders, centipedes and flies, along with other smaller and less aggressive vermin, all living off mushrooms and algae that grew along the damp walls and floor of the caves.
Before long, though, they came to a sort of carved stone structure, and Juniper stepped forwards before running her hand over one of the columns.
"It's like a temple," she said. "But carved out of the rock of a cave. It must have taken a lot of work."
"Really?" Camellia asked, sounding unimpressed. "Because it doesn't look it."
"Think about it," Juniper replied. "With normal stone buildings, you're putting things in place, and if you get one wrong you just replace it. But here, they couldn't have made a single mistake."
She patted the stone, then reached up and touched a seam of quartz in the rock. "And they just had to take it as they found it. I know it looks in poor repair now, but for it to exist at all is impressive."
"Good eye," Anevia said, resting on a lump of stone now to give her leg another chance to recover. "I'm impressed."
Juniper smiled. "Wait until we get to a topic you know about," she said.
"Who's there?" a male voice asked, and Juniper looked up.
There was a strange humanoid watching her, clad in several layers of cloth that all contrived to leave his chest bare. One half of his face and body was a fairly normal human, the other half was a fairly abnormal human because humans didn't normally have a dense pattern of green lizard scales.
He had a horn, as well, on the otherwise human side of his face, and Juniper frowned as she tried to work out what he could be. He was obviously an archer, the bow made that much clear, but an archer what?
"Crusaders," Seelah introduced them. "We fell down from the surface, same time as that big quake earlier."
"Crusaders?" the humanoid asked. "Wenduag!"
"What's that, Lann?" someone replied, this time a woman, and when she came into view Juniper was even more confused.
Her feline features were fair enough, she'd never seen an amurrun but she'd heard of them, but to have the oversized legs of a spider on her back? And she had a bow as well, but while Lann was wearing no protective armour at all this Wenduag was wearing fairly sturdy armour – even if that was half-hidden by the same basic sort of layered cloth as Lann.
"Crusaders, from the surface," Lann said. "We could use their help."
Wenduag snorted. "They're crusaders? They're almost as motley as 'neathers, Lann."
"Is that who you are?" Juniper asked. "Neathers?"
"I think I've heard of you," Camellia said, lightly. "Strange people living beneath the city, no two alike. The word I heard used was mongrels."
Wenduag snorted. "Well, we're 'neathers. From beneath the ground, get it?"
Lann was looking oddly at Seelah. "That's the Sword of Iomedae, isn't it?"
"Oh, on my shield?" Seelah asked, glancing down at the heavy weight she was carrying with a casual ease. "Yes, it is indeed. I'm a loyal paladin of the Inheritor."
She smiled. "It's a surprise to find a brother in faith after falling through a crack in the earth, but I can't say it's not a welcome one!"
"We've kept the traditions of the first crusaders alive, down here," Lann said proudly. "Actually, that's why we're here in the old chapel. Some of the young members of the tribe tried to go early, and they might be in trouble, but if all of us go and rescue them… we're looking for the Light of Heaven – it's a sword, it's supposed to be down here, and it'll lead us to the surface when the time is right. That's how we'll rally the tribes to rescue them – and help out on the surface."
"Underground crusaders!" Anevia declared. "With the situation in Kenabres, help like that could make a real difference."
"I can't speak for the others, but I'll help you look," Juniper said, holding up Terendelev's scale to let it shed the silver light over a wider area.
"Why not?" Camellia said. "I'm sure there's nothing else to do down here."
As Lann explained while they were looking, the stone chapel had been carved by the first generation of the crusaders to go underground – before they'd spread out into the caves and caverns, and the strange and varied mutations of the 'neathers had taken hold.
Unlike Wenduag, Lann seemed comfortable enough calling himself a mongrel, but Juniper didn't like the sound of it. He could call himself whatever he wanted, but… for someone else to use the word didn't seem quite right.
Unfortunately, however, they didn't have any actual information on what the Light of Heaven looked like. It was probably a sword, which simplified things a bit, but it could have been under any pile of rubble or detritus from the last hundred years.
So, Juniper began shifting through piles of rubble.
She had a cleaning cantrip, at least – any foxkin mage of any kind learned them, to keep their fur pristine – and she was going to need it.
"Maybe… here?" she said, mostly talking to herself, and shifted aside some rocks. There didn't seem to be anything, and she glanced over her shoulder to see how the others were doing.
Lann and Wenduag were both looking in very much the same way, and Juniper noticed that they both had longbows slung over their shoulders. Maybe it was a shared cultural thing, or maybe it was because they were both archers?
Seelah was cheerfully using her shield to move a bit of material at a time, then moving on to the next. And Camellia was… not really doing anything, beyond using a light cantrip to illuminate the area Seelah was searching and looking remarkably bored with the whole thing.
Juniper stifled a snigger, then turned back to the pile she was looking in.
Her paws tingled.
Tilting her head, she dug a little further with a mounting feeling of anticipation, and the tingling got stronger. Then her paw touched something that felt like warm sunlight – an electric shock ran up her arm – and suddenly, everything was different.
A swirl of confusing sensations flashed into her like a thunderbolt. There was an angel, defending a girl, or – or she was the angel, sword ready to punish the guilty – or she was the angel, but she was there to defend the innocent.
Compassion and righteous fury both surged at once, and something deep in Juniper's heart told her – this was a memory. But a memory that was full and rich, like a vision, and one that it almost felt like she could guide.
The angel raised his sword, warding off the evil creatures that swarmed around him, then declared that one day someone would take up his sword and…
Save the innocent. Punish evil.
The words blurred together, as if both had been said at the same time, then with a gasp Juniper found herself crouched over the pile of rubble again.
And her paw was glowing like sunset, before the light faded away.
"What was that?" Lann asked. "There was a flash."
"Did your spell go wrong?" Seelah checked.
"None of you saw that?" Juniper asked, then shook her head. "Sorry, I'm – I'm a bit shaken. I just saw something… there was an angel, and a sword."
"The Light of Heaven?" Lann checked, intent. "Did you find it?"
Juniper frowned, straightening.
"I think…" she began, then tried to remember the vision.
The angel had flung his sword away, in this direction, and Juniper stepped away from the pile a little to the same place as the angel had been.
Eyes half-lidded, she repeated the same motion – and, for a moment, her paw closed not on air, but on something solid.
The light of sunset shaped itself in the air in her paw, forming the shape of a sword, and the Light of Heaven shone.
"...wow," Wenduag said, softly. "Is that what sunlight is like?"
"Yeah," Lann agreed. "This is great! You found it!"
Wenduag snorted. "Yeah, after generations, it's an uplander who finds it. Sure sounds convenient to me."
"We need to go and show Chief Sull," Lann declared. "Come on!"
He began to move, then glanced back. "And – listen, you need to know what's going on."
Halfway back to Neatholm, Wenduag came to a decision.
"Hey, uplander," she called, softly.
The foxkin girl glanced back, then fell back a bit, and Wenduag gestured her over to the side of the path.
"Is something up?" Juniper asked.
"Yeah, I wanted to ask something," Wenduag replied. "What do you think of this plan of Lann's?"
The kitsune looked at Wenduag, cocking her head slightly.
"You don't sound confident," she said.
Wenduag shrugged. "Lann and I don't agree on everything. But I asked you a question."
"I don't know enough to be sure," Juniper said, thinking, and her tail flicked behind her. "Lann made it sound like it's not a simple process, if some kids got stuck."
"Right," Wenduag agreed. "There's an area that leads to the surface, the Shield Maze… but it's dangerous."
Juniper nodded, and her ears twitched a little.
"There's arguments both ways," she said. "Either it's a better plan to gather a big strike force and storm the maze, overwhelming any dangers with sheer force of numbers, which is Lann's plan… or it's a better plan for a picked group of the best few fighters to go in, without exposing anyone who can't handle it. Which… isn't."
"And I think the second plan is better," Wenduag replied. "Not all the dangers in the Shield Maze are the kind that you can handle with numbers, and raising the alarm is a bad idea… take it from a hunter, you want to avoid being noticed for as long as possible."
"Perhaps," Juniper said.
Wenduag rolled her fingers up and down, wondering how to best make her point.
"Look, uplander girl," she said. "What matters is – we move quickly. Old Sull would take days to gather the tribes to do anything significant, not that they'd do much beyond die, and that's time those kids won't have. Just don't show the Light, and I'll lead you though the Maze myself. I know the layout, it'll be quicker than any other option."
Juniper cocked her head to the side, considering, and Wenduag wondered what the odd uplander was seeing.
So far, nobody had figured out her deal with Hosilla and Savamelekh… and it was going to be much easier to fulfil her deal with the demon and his cultist if she only had a few clumsy uplanders to quietly kill off. Rather than all the tribes bumbling around at once.
"I'm surprised you don't think the tribes can do much," Juniper said, eventually.
"I'm a realist," Wenduag replied. "So, what do you think, uplander girl?"
Juniper reached up to scratch her muzzle. "I'll consider it."
That was probably as good as Wenduag was going to get, really.
That evening… or what felt like it might be evening, since telling time underground was inherently difficult… Juniper lay back on a bundle of old clothes and tried to get to sleep.
As best she could, in the unfamiliar surroundings of Lann's village. There was something about it that wasn't quite sitting right with her expectations, though she couldn't tell if it was the smell of the lakewater around the almost-island on which the village was built – or the underground gloom, and the lack of the sound of the wind… the wet smell, or the size of the small huts in which the 'neathers lived… or simply the situation.
She'd done her best to navigate between Lann's enthusiasm for calling on the 'neather tribes and Wenduag's conviction that it would only cause more problems, and eventually she'd had to compromise… and she thought it was a good compromise.
Juniper had shown the Light, to prove that there was more than words behind what she was saying and because it was that or outright contradict Lann. But she'd also insisted that the tribes had to wait until everything was ready, until a small strike force had gone into the Maze to try and rescue the missing children.
It had seemed like a good idea… but the flash of sheer hatred on Wenduag's face, for the moment before the 'neather had turned that into a barbed comment, was enough to make her wonder.
At the time, Juniper had mostly written it off because there were other things to deal with. A nobleman of the city, Horgus Gwerm, had asked for an escort out of the caves – though that wasn't going to be safe until they'd cleared the Shield Maze. And then there'd been finding food, cleaning up after the long march through the caves… but now she had to wonder.
And, hours later, she wasn't very surprised to find that Wenduag had quietly slipped away while they were asleep.
From there, the only sensible thing had been to move forwards. Lann had taken them to the Shield Maze, leading them to where a whole assemblage of the cave people had already gathered by a door, but Lann's chief… hesitated. Saying that they needed to wait, for a little longer.
Until the other tribes had arrived, or possibly until he'd worked up the courage.
At first Juniper had just sighed, because it meant that Wenduag had been right about that, but… it also meant that the compromise she'd suggested would naturally come about. Something that didn't even have the downside of trying to restrain the other 'neathers.
She'd hoped that Wenduag would have been waiting here, but if not – presumably the other 'neather archer had gone into the maze first, and perhaps they'd find her.
Or perhaps not.
Sull was a little cautious, but took only a moment to convince that it was for the best. The four of them – the same as the original compromise plan, less Wenduag – would go into the Shield Maze, while the dozens of other 'neather warriors outside would come if they were called upon.
And, until then, those same warriors would keep Anevia and Horgus and the non-combatants safe.
"Now I don't know what this means," Seelah said, deep in the Shield Maze.
For all that it had been supposed to be a route to the surface and a potentially dangerous one, from everything they'd known, none of them – not even Lann – had expected quite what they'd found. There was nothing less than a den of cultists in the Shield Maze, worshippers of the insidious, cunning demon lord Baphomet.
Baphomet was a minotaur and ruler of minotaurs, whose very domain was mazes, and his worshippers had made themselves quite at home… and, more disturbingly, they'd run into angry 'neathers, as well.
Lann had known some of them, but not a single one of them had recognized him or stayed their hands – fighting alongside the cultists, full of a slightly disturbing rage. And unlike the cultists, there was no sign of any kind of aesthetic sense or feeling that they had made the maze their home.
The 'neathers were just… there, caring for neither the Baphomite symbols nor the decorations and furnishings, and none of them had been quite sure what to make of it.
And now the paladin glanced over. "Camellia? You've been pretty good with surprising things so far… wouldn't have taken you for a lockpick."
"A girl has her hobbies," Camellia replied. "And they do turn out useful from time to time… but this isn't one of my specialities either."
Juniper stepped forwards, and touched one of the runes marked on the wall. It tingled, and a matching blue symbol appeared on the wall for a moment before fading away.
"It's… a lock, I think," she said. "But a kind of arcane lock… third principle of arcane defences, they're easier to create and cast if they have a loophole."
"How's that?" Lann asked. "Isn't a loophole one of those things you use to shoot through a wall?"
He touched the string of his bow. "Because I don't think I can shoot through the wall. I'm not nearly good enough."
"I mean that… there are ways to make a magical defence so it only lets certain people in," Juniper replied. "For example. Or a defensive spell that protects against everything. But it's much easier to be specific, and in this case – yes, it can't be picked."
She tapped on the blue rune three more times, making a complete sequence form itself, then it dissolved away.
"Any rune can be in any position, including more than one of them. Four, sixteen… two hundred and fifty six possibilities," she said. "And we don't have most of an hour to work on getting through this one wall."
She flicked her tail with a flourish, then pointed at Camellia. "But. I seem to recall a set of paintings you didn't like, back on the floor we entered on."
"They were poorly composed and dreadfully out of fashion," Camellia agreed, clearly thinking back… they'd all seen it, but Camellia had been the one to pay attention.
Mostly to complain about it.
She frowned. "And two of the same painting, as well… yellow, blue, red, yellow."
Juniper tapped out the same sequence, and the door opened.
"Not bad, girls," Seelah said, then stepped forwards in case the room held anything dangerous.
And stopped, staring.
"That's…" she began, pointing at a display rack in the room. "That's Radiance! Yaniel's sword – what's it doing here?"
"Not a lot," Camellia noted. "Except rusting, by the looks of it."
"It's a legendary blade," Seelah said, with a reproving glance at Camellia. "Yaniel did amazing things with it, then it was lost when she vanished… I guess finding it in the treasures kept by a bunch of cultists makes sense, but it's still a surprise. I always looked up to her."
Juniper picked up the weapon, curious.
She remembered hearing of Yaniel – a hero of one of the earlier crusades, if she recalled correctly, and who had become missing-in-action during the fall of Drezen.
Functionally speaking, it was certain that she was dead. But how had her blade come to be here? If it would be anywhere, it should be in Drezen, many miles to the north in a fortress-town overrun by demons.
Had the infiltrating cultists brought it? And why?
"The hilt feels warm," she said, inspecting the golden longsword with wings for quillons, then a jolt of golden light flickered around her paw and ran up and down the blade.
It shimmered, a glow fizzing off the wings and trying to break free from inside the sword, then the glow faded and Radiance was just an old, rusted sword.
"Now that was strange," Seelah marvelled.
"Does that happen often around you?" Lann asked. "Forgive the mongrel for his lack of education, but was that the sword or was that you?"
"Both, I think," Juniper replied, frowning, and cast a cantrip to help her examine the magic on the sword. "It seems like… the enchantments are still there, but they're so weak that they can't actually do anything."
She examined the weapon, considering. "And it fits my paw perfectly. It's a pity I have no idea how to use a longsword… but it seems wrong to leave it here."
"Amen to that, sister," Seelah agreed. "And maybe I'll show you how, some time."
"And… there," Camellia said, pleased. "Now we can finally get out of this awful underground."
Juniper wouldn't have put it quite like that, because some of the underground had had its own kind of beauty, but she couldn't deny that there was something to be said for getting out of the Shield Maze.
It had been a slog, full of violent men and women. She was sure it had been worse for Lann, who'd known some of those he'd had to kill, but Juniper herself was more familiar with violence now than she thought she should be.
But they were nearly out, and Juniper took the steps two at a time – behind Lann and Camellia, but ahead of Seelah as the paladin lagged behind a little.
As she reached the top of the stairs, though, Camellia signalled for quiet. Lann did the same, peering over the bannister, and then Juniper reached them as well.
The landing they'd reached was over a circular entrance hall, with a flight of stairs around the edge leading down to the hall level, and beyond it Juniper could see a door. But that wasn't important.
What was important was the half-dozen 'neather teens clustered against one wall, and an aasimar standing in front of them, shifting from foot to foot but defiant despite his lack of weapons… and, in the middle of the room, a cultist with a glaive.
And a four-armed demon, a powerful demon, that Juniper recognized as a vrolikai.
Vrolikai were… catastrophically bad news, and Juniper signalled to Seelah to be quiet as well.
"What could that demon want with the kids?" Lann breathed, his voice barely loud enough for Juniper to hear.
She didn't know.
With all three of the others telling her to be quiet, Seelah managed to join them without her armour clanking, and Juniper returned her attention to the demon.
For a long moment, the conversation was simply informative, if unpleasant, and Juniper tried to see if there was some kind of opening. The demon was called Savamalekh, and his cultist was Hosilla – the leader of the cultists they'd met in the Shield Maze so far. He declared them to be starvelings from the dark, pitiful monsters not human or demon, and said that submitting to him would make them stronger.
It was terrible to listen to, but Juniper simply could not see a way to intervene. Even to safe the life of the brave aasimar, who looked willing to die on his feet.
Then Hosilla killed the aasimar, striking him down with an abrupt and brutal blow, and Savamalekh commanded the 'neathers to take what he called a sacrament… the flesh of the dead man.
Just watching would have been bad enough, but there was something… something else going on. Something more.
Blood roared in Juniper's ears, blotting out all other sounds. It felt like fire racing through her veins, making her fur stand on end, making it impossible to think. Some deep part of her soul responded to what Savamalekh was demanding, but not in disgust… in rage.
Rage at this upstart thinking that he was better than her. At giving orders while she was there!
The pure, incandescent fury fizzed and crackled through her, tinting her vision red…
...and yet, at the same time, there was a spark of sunset's light trying to break through.
Juniper had to choose.
She couldn't choose.
She had to choose.
It felt like the wound on her chest was tearing apart, then she said a word in a language she didn't know and a spike of light hammered down from the ceiling.
There was an explosion of light that knocked everyone on the lower level sprawling, not just the neathers but Hosilla and even Savamalekh, and the demon scrambled back to his feet before ripping open a portal and fleeing in panic.
"What just…" Hosilla said, picking herself up as the missing teens stayed down, and looked around before spotting Juniper.
Juniper tried not to show how tired she was, descending the stairs, and Camellia, Seelah and Lann followed her down.
She'd never felt more grateful for anyone's support.
"How did you do that?" Hosilla demanded. "That was angel's magic… but you can't do it again, can you?"
Her voice turned cruel as she said the last part, and she raised her glaive. "If you came through the maze, you must have killed most of those idiots… I'll kill you for that. Wendaug!"
"Wenduag?" Lann repeated, surprised. "What's she…"
"Surprised, Lann?" Wenduag asked, coming through a nearby doorway and holding her bow ready. "I got a good deal, that's all."
"Traitor," Lann said, the surprise bleeding into total contempt.
He said something else, as well, but Juniper didn't hear her.
The contempt from Hosilla, the way Wenduag must have been trying to manipulate her… the same rage came boiling up again, and this time she shouted something and threw a bolt of force magic at Hosilla.
The cultist flinched back, and Juniper threw another bolt of magic.
And another.
She didn't know where she was finding the strength, and she didn't care. Jolts of lightning and splashes of acid and jets of frost poured forth from her paws in a stream, knocking Hosilla back and keeping the cultist off balance as the spells crashed into her magical defences, then her opponent's gaze flicked to Wenduag.
"Kill her!" Hosilla demanded.
Wenduag hesitated, and Seelah charged Hosilla from the side. She knocked the cultist leader down with a crash of armour and steel, and Juniper let up her magical bombardment as the rage – and the energy that had come with it – cut off all in the same instant.
She didn't actually see Camellia dart in to finish Hosilla off.
Half an hour later, as all six of them moved through cellars – tired still, but with the chance that every minute could matter – Juniper wondered to herself if she could have handled Wenduag better.
The 'neather archer had said she wanted to join the group, explaining casually that she'd helped Hosilla because Hosilla was the strongest option but now Juniper had proven that she was the stronger option. Wenduag hadn't stinted on the details either, saying she'd taken part in the same foul ritual – and nearly died – but that it had been her only choice to avoid death… and that she'd followed Lann to look for the Light of Heaven not because she thought it would work, but to get him somewhere quiet to kill him.
As she'd already killed other 'neathers.
At the time, Juniper had felt… rage, boiling in her blood, and fierce indignation shining from her heart, and both factors at once had combined in an outburst that had made everyone else present step back in trepidation. She'd laid into Wenduag for giving up, for taking the easy way out, for doing something because it was what she'd told herself she had to do.
Then she'd said that Wenduag had been weak, and the 'neather had stepped back as if Juniper had slapped her… and darted off, through the door and into the darkness before anyone else could react.
Juniper had the feeling it wasn't the last they'd seen of Wenduag.
Lann's chief had the feeling it wasn't the last they'd seen of her, either, though he'd said quite firmly that they weren't leaving the caves… yet. The tribes had been drawn together, but they weren't ready to give up their homes, and that meant it was only Lann accompanying the five surface-dwellers through the Kenabres undercity.
But now they were approaching the surface, climbing up a partly-collapsed pile of stone rubble, and there was the sound of fighting ahead. Juniper paused, checking behind her – letting Seelah and Camellia go first, and making sure that Anevia and Horgus were keeping up – then fell in next to Lann in the back ranks, drawing her crossbow.
Seelah opened the door with a sharp motion and hurried through, and Juniper saw a battle going on. Cultists and demons fighting with armoured knights and soldiers, not forming a single front line but split into a dozen knots of one-on-one or two-on-one battles, and she took a moment to get her bearings before throwing a jet of freezing air at one of the cultists.
The flinch that resulted let a tough dwarf hack the cultist down, then turn on a nearby demon, and that plus the efforts of her companions resolved the melee in moments.
"Check them," commanded a half-orc woman in full plate armour, then turned her attention to the newcomers. "Who are-"
She chopped off the next words, staring, and Anevia limped past. The half-orc stepped forwards to meet her, and the two women embraced.
Juniper's ears picked up a few of the murmured words, then she deliberately ignored the rest of what they were saying. This had to be Irabeth Tirabade, Anevia's wife… who she'd mentioned down in the caverns, and who must have despaired of ever seeing Anevia again.
"I don't know if Iomedae or Desna or both are to thank for reuniting us, but I'll thank them both," Irabeth said, stepping back a pace. "You're wounded. Can you fight?"
"Not well," Anevia admitted. "But better than Lord Gwerm, I'd say."
Irabeth looked up with surprise, noticing the portly human aristocrat for the first time, then frowned as she turned her attention to Juniper.
"You're the foxkin girl from the square, aren't you?" she asked. "Who is that next to you?"
"Lann, at your service," Lann introduced himself. "Underground crusader, I guess. Descended from the first crusaders."
"He's been a big help," Seelah volunteered. "Everyone here has."
"Then I'm glad to have your help," Irabeth told them, all business now. "Anevia, take two guards to keep Lord Gwerm safe – head to Gemyl Hawkes' place. Everyone else, with me."
"What's going on?" Juniper asked. "Thirty minutes ago we were fighting a cult under this building… whatever it is."
"This is the Grey Garrison, the fortress at the heart of Kenabres," Irabeth explained. "When Deskari attacked the city, he knocked the Wardstone clear across town and it crashed into the building – and the demons are doing something to it. We need to stop them or there might not be a Kenabres to save."
"Wardstone?" Lann asked quietly.
"Enchanted stones put in place decades ago to prevent the abyssal corruption of the Worldwound spreading," Juniper explained. "A tear between Golarion and another plane is going to make the nature of the other plane spread onto Golarion, and the wardstones are to… stop that?"
Lann accepted that with a nod, which left Juniper wondering how she'd known that.
The knowledge was there, but she didn't remember learning it.
"This way," Irabeth called, breaking Juniper out of her reverie. "We need to move fast, before the demons can react."
True to her words, Irabeth and her strike team – with four tattered adventurers along for the ride – moved up the floors of the Grey Garrison fluidly enough, cutting down both cultists and demons alike.
Some of the cultists followed Baphomet, others Deskari, but fortunately there didn't seem to be any sign of the more powerful servants of either of those demon lords present in the fortress. That could have been simple time and chaos, as it had only really been hours since the initial attack, or it could have been that they were needed elsewhere.
Whatever the reason, though, the strike team reached the third floor within minutes – though there was an ominous rumble behind them, as the building settled and some of the damaged structure broke away from the aftereffects of Deskari's attack.
"I can't say I like what they've done with the place," Camellia said, picking her way delicately over some tumbled stone as they rounded the third floor galleries. "Though you can hardly expect cultists to have good taste, can you?"
Juniper flicked her ears, then caught sight of a group of cultists ahead of them.
It wasn't her first sight of the Wardstone, as the massive construct of rune-layered blue crystal had landed point-first so the upper end had been visible through cracked walls in the basement, but the wider end of the Wardstone brought home the scale… and the half-dozen cultists chanting in unison indicated eloquently that Irabeth's worries had been correct.
"Now, now," an amused voice said, and Juniper looked over before wincing.
A lilitu demon was standing there, applauding them with a mocking smile on the eyeless face that identified her, then laced her clawed fingers together.
"It's very amusing to see you here, but you're very late," she said.
There was an arrogance in simply standing there, in front of a whole group of armed crusaders, but Juniper knew how strong lilitu demons were… and knew that that arrogance was almost certainly justified, as they were almost as strong as vrolikai.
It looked like there was only one high-ranking servant of either Baphomet or Deskari here… and that was all that was needed.
"Oh, and Staunton!" the lilitu added, sounding delighted, and her slender tail flicked past her hooves as she adjusted how a long red dress fell on her figure. "Sweetie, it's so lovely to see you again!"
"I'll kill you, witch," the tough armoured dwarf said hoarsely, adjusting his grip on his weapon.
The lilitu smirked. "Not even going to use my name?" she asked. "Oh, darling, I really thought we had something… and you of all people should know how convincing I can be."
She gestured to the Wardstone. "Why, soon enough I'll have convinced this rock to listen to me, and it'll stop getting in the way. Won't that be nice?"
"For Terendelev and the Inheritor!" Irabeth called, shield out in front of her as her sword blazed, and knocked one of the cultists sprawling in a way that Juniper remembered from down below. Lann nocked an arrow and fired, and the other soldiers charged, then the lilitu hurled a bolt of lightning that knocked half of them down.
Juniper shot a bolt of magic forth, attacking one of the cultists, then nudged Lann. "Aim for the cultists!"
"Wasn't planning on anything else," Lann replied, firing another arrow, and Juniper closed her eyes.
She tried to reach for that light from the Shield Maze… the light that had hammered a vrolikai into panicked retreat… but it didn't come. It didn't want to come.
The rage wasn't there either, exhausted or unwilling to come at her command, then Juniper gave it up as a bad idea and aimed her crossbow instead.
Her bolt took the last of the cultists in the head, killing what she thought were experts in corrupting the Wardstone, and the lilitu hissed.
"Stop being so inconvenient!" she demanded, petulantly, and her palm flashed with magic-
-and Juniper felt like she was floating, then lost consciousness entirely.