With the important decision made, multiple casual conversations broke out among the group. Glynfir approached Sifu Haft, his face creased in confusion.

  “I heard you say you’ve been unable to bury your dead. Do you mind if I ask why?”

  The old monk felt his cheeks flush. Avoiding the wizard’s gaze, he pretended to busy himself, tidying up dishes from the table.

  “I’ll admit, it’s a bit embarrassing…only one shovel survived the fire. I hoped to bury them on either side of the road so everyone approaching the abbey would be reminded of their sacrifice.” He let out a deep sigh. “But here we are, three days later, and we’ve only managed to dig four graves. Iskvold has them under a big block of ice out in the courtyard…”

  The wizard turned to see Lunish arriving at his hip.

  “I think we can help with that.” Looking to the gnome, he asked,” Do you have any more of those seeds, the ones with the pink flowers?”

  “Sure, a whole bunch…why?”

  “I was thinking we could help Sifu give the monks a send-off like we did for Grym…”

  “I think that’s a great idea!”

  The two described their memorial on the road, and the abbey’s master beamed in appreciation. He felt the tension in his shoulders relax.

  “Thank you both! That would mean so much to all of us here, to finally lay our brothers and sisters to rest.” He embraced them in a collective hug–a rare demonstration for the grizzled old monk.

  “Happy to help…” Lunish offered, her voice muffled in his shoulder. The gnome pulled back from the hug, her hands gripping the monk’s forearms as she looked him in the eye. “…there is something you can help us with too,” she continued. “Grym mentioned a friend of his, an old draconic hermit that lived around here; any chance you know where we can find him?”

  Armed with Haft’s directions, the pair set out north. Glynfir held his head high, perched on the back of the sorrel mare, a smile on his lips. Before they left, he magically dug twenty-one gravesites for the monks. Their gratitude was both generous and genuine. This was a good feeling–helping others. Now, they were on their way to honor Grym’s last request–to visit his old friend.

  Not quite the same, but close enough.

  It was still an act that didn’t benefit him personally, and it gave him a warm feeling. Given the anxiety that gnawed at his gut whenever he thought about taking off after demons tomorrow morning, the wizard was grateful for any relief, however fleeting.

  The squeal of binding wood alerted him to something approaching from the opposite direction. He guided Lunish to the side of the path as a wagon pulled by two horses came into view around the corner. In the front sat two monks in pale orange robes, one human, one elven, gently navigating the vehicle over the rutted narrow road. The wagon was loaded with supplies, the contents bouncing precariously over every tree root and stone. Wedged between a pile of linens and a stack of woven mats was a halfling monk wearing the familiar white of the Luminarium. Visibly regretting his seating choice, the halfling winced with every lurch. This must be Graver, returning from the Abbey of the Crystal Dawn.

  “Boy, will they be glad to see you!” Glynfir smiled in greeting as the wagon pulled to a halt. After briefly explaining who they were and where they were going, the driver snapped the reigns, and the wagon resumed its bumpy journey towards the abbey. As it pulled away, one of the monks shouted over his shoulder.

  “Good Luck–the hermit is a little crazy... Watch he doesn’t drop a fireball on your head just for trespassing!”

  Lunish lightly stomped her feet beneath him. The wizard patted her neck affectionately.

  “Don’t worry, Lulu, I’ve got a good feeling about this...”

  Horse and rider reached a choked, narrow trail running west before Lunish reverted to her gnomish form with a flash, and they continued on foot. Within a few minutes, the woods crowding the path gave way to a clearing framing a small, tidy-looking cottage. The roof was thatched, and a light wisp of smoke curled lazily from the chimney. The pair paused at the tree line.

  “Well, looks like he’s home.” Glynfir offered brightly.

  Lunish grunted in response.

  “And he definitely doesn’t want anyone sneaking up on him…see how much of the forest he’s cleared all around the cabin?”

  They stood silently observing the surroundings.

  With a shared nod and a deep breath, the pair cautiously stepped across the clearing.

  Lunish called out, cupping her hand to her mouth, “Hello?... Mister Glamos?”

  Halfway to the dwelling, a mote of red energy streaked from the window, swelling as it hurtled their way. Recognizing it immediately, Glynfir pulled the gnome to the ground. The fireball exploded just out of range, scorching the grass in front of them–clearly, a warning shot.

  “How rude!” he heard her mutter into his shoulder

  “That’s far enough!” a voice called from inside the cottage. It was a higher pitch than the wizard expected, and though it cracked with age, there was a gravitas to the tone. “The next one won’t miss!”

  Scrambling to their feet, Glynfir raised his hands in surrender. Lunish reached into her satchel, thumbing the silver chain and hammer pendant she’d pocketed before the burial.

  “We’re here about your friend and ours…Grym.”

  The druid pulled the chain from her picket. Holding it over her head, the hammer pendant spun, glinting in the sunlight. There was a long pause before the door creaked open no more than a hand's breadth.

  “If you’ve got that chain, he must be dead.” The disembodied voice said from the shadows within.

  “I’m afraid so,” Lunish confirmed. “The three of us were coming to see you…. but he didn’t make it.” Her voice broke as she spoke the last few words.

  The door opened halfway, protesting on its hinges, and a figure emerged from the darkened interior. The humanoid was unlike any other Glynfir had ever seen–the perfect blend of man and dragon. He was bipedal and average in height by human standards. A white, scaly hide was visible on his neck and face. Pointed spikes hung from the chin of his elongated snout like icicles. Two nostrils, spread wide, framed a slight peak that pointed skyward at the end of his nose.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  There was a lizard-like curve to his jawline, and his lower canines rested entirely outside his mouth. His rear teeth, too, were visible, peeking out from above and below his closed lips. Curved grey and white spines framed his eye sockets, pointing back over his head. It was as if someone had thrown water in his face that had frozen on contact. His irises glowed pale blue, circling black, vertical pupils that narrowed to slits as they caught the exterior light. His tail flicked idly, and a suspicious gaze lingered on each of them for a long moment before he spoke.

  “Well, I guess you’d better come in then,” he said flatly before turning and retreating into the shadows, leaving the door ajar.

  The cottage interior was cozy and smelled of cedar. Glynfir had expected a more crowded space, overrun with all the hoardings a hermit wizard might appreciate–beakers and test tubes, magical experiments, and an excessive number of books. The reality was exactly the opposite. The modest three-room cabin was organized and well kept, without a single indication of magical research. Even the books were limited to a dozen titles. A small sitting area framing the fireplace offered two comfortable chairs, one well worn, the other nearly new. A small wooden end table split duty between them. The visitors stood in the doorway as the draconian padded back to the kitchen area before returning with a kettle and a wooden chair.

  Setting the chair near the others to round out the seating, he placed the well-worn kettle on the hearth and turned on his heel, wordlessly heading back to the kitchen. They heard the banging of cupboard doors and the clink of dishes. Moments later, he returned, carrying a tray of three mugs and a tea box. He set the tray on the end table, shifting it to a position that could be shared by all three seats, before flopping into his favorite chair. Finally acknowledging their presence in his home, Glamos looked at them, the stiff white spurs above his eye sockets rising as he gestured to the remaining open seats. His tail flicked again.

  “Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to sit down and tell me what happened?”

  The half-elf and gnome began with their mission in Chagrothlond, trading off on the narration back and forth over the next fifteen minutes. They covered their jobs, the trip to the Luminarium, Grym’s final battle, and a detailed account of his burial ceremony. The wizened draconian listened intently, his stubby claw-tipped fingers steepled in thought, thumbs propped under his chin.

  The kettle’s sharp whistle signaled a break in the conversation, sending a pillar of steam into the surrounding air. Their host rose, retrieved it from the hearth, and poured three cups of tea, offering one to each of them. The smell of bergamot and citrus drifted to his nose as Glynfir accepted the mug, noticing that his did not match the other two. While theirs were made from delicate, yellow porcelain, his was chunky, white earthenware with the words “World’s Okayest Wizard” printed on the side. He held it up quizzically. Glamos grunted in amusement, his thin lips stretching into a lizard-like version of a smile.

  “Grym bought that for me as a joke, one time. It doesn’t get used much, but I thought it was appropriate under the circumstances.”

  The half-elf giggled in response, his mustache twitching. “Whew! I thought it was your passive-aggressive assessment of my skills!”

  All three laughed, appreciating the moment of levity.

  As he gazed into his teacup, his smile faded, and the draconian shook his head subtly.

  “You know…I never expected to outlive that stubborn dwarf. Did he ever tell you about the time he almost got me killed battling a young green dragon way up north?” The smile returned, more nostalgic than amused. “I hadn’t been adventuring very long, and he convinced me to try reasoning with the creature! ‘Talk to it.’ he said, ‘You’ve got natural rapport.’ he said…” He smirked and chortled, his nostrils sending two frosty cones of air curling towards the fireplace.

  For the next two hours, the three swapped stories of their dwarven friend in a catharsis of remembrance, laughter, and tears. Seeing the sun start to dip behind the western peaks of the Glimmerstones, Lunish lightly slapped her hands on her knees.

  “Welp, we should be getting back to the abbey.” She stretched her lips into an exaggerated grimace, hunching her shoulders and furrowing her brow. “Apparently, we’re chasing demons into the Simerarian foothills tomorrow morning…and I have twenty-one prairifire crabapple trees to grow before dark.”

  The draconian nodded slowly and let out a long breath. “Thank you for coming all this way to see me. It’s been surprisingly refreshing to talk to people for a change…” he gestured to the two of them, “…and share some fond memories of the past.” His vertical pupils narrowed on Glynfir, tail flitting back and forth in consideration. “You expect to fight more of these demons in the coming days?”

  “I’m afraid so.” The wizard nodded.

  “I may be able to help.” Glamos pushed himself out of his chair and shuffled into the cottage’s back room before returning with an ornately carved miniature chest no more than three inches long. The gnome and half-elf watched, somewhat confused, as the draconian moved to the open area between their chairs and the kitchen. He tapped the chest in his hand, and with a flash of blue arcane energy, a full-sized version–two feet by three feet- identical to the replica in his hand, materialized on the floor in front of them.

  “That’s a neat trick!” Glynfir grinned.

  “Handy if you want to hide things on the ethereal plane.” He opened the chest, its lid shielding the contents from their view. “The space is limited, but you can also have more than one!” His eyes twinkled as he shot the wizard a serpentine grin.

  The draconian muttered to himself, his tail working overtime as he rummaged through the contents before extracting three rolls of parchment tied off with coarse string. He stepped out from behind the chest toward the half-elf, squinting to read the labels sealed across the end of each scroll.

  “You can add these to your spellbook when you get home tonight. I think you’ll find them useful. This one…” He handed the first scroll to the wizard, his eyes twinkling. “It will temporarily banish a creature to a sort of ethereal demi-plane of existence–kind of like my chest here.”

  Before Glynfir could close his hand, Glamos lifted it away, pointing it at the half-elf as their eyes locked. “Mind, if the creature comes from a different plane to begin with – like a demon – it sends them back permanently–Poof!” He handed it over, grabbing the second.

  “This one is a dimension door–it's saved me more times than I can count! The half-elf’s grin widened. “Basically, it’s a short-range teleport, and you can bring a friend!”

  He reached for the third scroll. “This one is called Amber Vault, one of my own designs. It allows you to suspend an object in a gem of amber, unaffected by time or magic, until you release it.” With a shrug, he passed it to the wizard.

  “Thank you!” Glynfir gushed, his voice full of gratitude. “I was really worried about my effectiveness against these bastards! My usual go-tos- fireball and lightning bolt–didn’t work as well as they should have…”

  Glamos chuckled, the loose, scaly skin on his throat thrumming in time to his laughter. “Indeed, demons, as a group, resist many types of magic–very frustrating! Something radiant or psychic is your best bet. Good Luck!” Closing the lid to his arcane chest, he extracted the replica from his pocket. Tapping both simultaneously caused the larger version to disappear back to the ethereal plane with a flash.

  The visitors said their goodbyes. Lunish managed to extract an awkward hug from the draconian after she pressed Grym’s silver chain into his meaty talons. The gnome resisted separation, holding his gaze with soft eyes. Sharing a tight-lipped, sympathetic smile, she spoke from the heart.

  “We’ll be staying at the Luminarium for the next little while. You should come by. I’m sure everyone would appreciate your wisdom and experience and would love to hear about your adventures with Grym.” The draconic wizard said nothing in response, offering only a subtle nod, his tail flicking back and forth.

  As they turned to go, Glynfir paused before asking sheepishly, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m dying to know – what were your parents like? It must have been an odd family dynamic to grow up in…a dragon and a human…”

  Glamos guffawed out loud, cones of frost belching from his nostrils. “I’ve wondered about that myself! Unfortunately, I can’t give you an answer. By the time I hatched, they were gone.” His mood shifted, and a tinge of regret crept into his tone. “I was raised by a human sorcerer who purchased my egg from a group of adventurers…I wish I had more to tell you.” His voice trailed off.

  The conversation reached its natural conclusion, and they stepped outside. The hermit raised a hand in farewell from the doorway as Lunish shifted back to horse form. With Glynfir on her back, they set off on the forty-minute return trip to the Luminarium.