Hiding In Plain Sight (2/2)
And the minute she was gone, Threadbare popped a claw, ripped open his body, and stuffed the components and most of the cloth inside. It made him feel a bit lumpy, but it would do until he got back to the ship. A quick mend put him right, and a few quick words to Renny got the little fox on board with the plan.
“Animate Toy Golem!” Threadbare intoned, and then whispered, “Glowgleam.”
Light pooled around his paws, and Renny stepped into the middle of the tent, holding himself perfectly still.
Behind him, the tent flaps rustled and Anne peered through. “A fox?” she made a face. “If that's a joke, it ain't a funny one, Lady. If it ain't a joke, yer taste be questionable.”
“Are the old stories about warring beastkin tribes true, then?” Threadbare asked.
“Nay, it's just every fox I've ever met has been an arsehole,” Anne sniffed. “Dated one, once. He thought he was clever. Spoilers; he weren't.” She lifted her shirt, to show a red and white fur lining on the edge of her belt. “But it's more than his memories that keep me warm at night...”
“Be that as it may, this is a golem that looks like a fox,” Threadbare said. “He'll behave. Please don't skin him.”
“Hm? Nah...” Anne bent and ruffled Renny's fur. The little fox wobbled underneath her strong hand. Then Anne frowned. “Furry? Odd. I thought we just gave ye red cloth.”
“The process changes the materials sometimes,” Threadbare said. “Form affects function.”
It wasn't entirely untrue, but Anne rolled her eyes. It was clear she didn't believe him at all.
“So long as I don't find meself missing any furry belts or other mementos, I don't care whose bunk ye stole a fur blanket from. Just mind yerself in the future. If I hear trouble, well...” Her hand squished Renny's plush head, denting it severely before she let it go and it popped back into shape. “Might be I'll let any offended parties have a go at ruining yer toys.”
“I understand,” Threadbare said. And he did. She was demonstrating that she had something to take away from him now, if he misbehaved. “I'll be good.”
“Let's hope so,” Anne said, and headed out once more.
The passing hours blurred together. The pirates came and went, getting a little more bloodied and torn up each time. But they dropped off loads of parts and the occasional enchanting reagent or crystal with each trip, and soon they were up to an engine and a half. Threadbare kept a quiet count of how long it took them between trips, and used the time to update Garon. He passed on the landmark he'd spotted, the ruse he'd pulled, and a few other details he thought might help.
And then Garon had a wonderful idea.
GARON HAS ISSUED A NEW DECREE!
“Bide. Glub says you're still partied with him. Want a volunteer crewman?”
Threadbare's eyes went wide.
Indeed, that was one of the things that he'd been holding in reserve, if things got REALLY bad. He was still in a party with Missus Fluffbear, and most of the group from his last adventure.
Including one non-sentient golem that he'd deemed to valuable to leave without a party...
But that one was a stopguard against utter disaster, a card not to be flipped until he had nothing left. Whereas Glub, now, Glub was an Explorer. And probably very, very handy at finding his way around the wilderness, identifying landmarks, and helping lost teddy bears explain their surroundings to concerned rescuers.
“Simple Decree. Please tell Glub I'm ready when he is then let me know.”
Within minutes the reply came back, and Threadbare smiled. He went to the tent flaps to let Anne know that he'd “gotten enough components,” for a proper golem, and prepared to teleport his party member to him with Call Golem—
—and a loud explosion shattered the mountain sky.
Threadbare looked to Renny, and the two of them ran outside as what looked like a flashing tear in the sky snapped shut, sending motes of light dancing down among the peaks.
“What sorcery be this!” Anne bellowed, snapping out of her camp chair, and stalking toward the dungeon entrance.
She was almost bowled over, as the last dungeon crew pelted out, bloody, battered, and... smoking? Yes, all of them were singed quite badly.
But Threadbare had been learning faces and names, and all of them were still alive, all still accounted. Whatever they'd run into hadn't been lethal... yet.
And then another figure emerged from the entrance.
She was a dark-haired elf woman, clad in a resplendent gown of green traced with gold runes. A high collar rose from the back of it, and she wore a golden crown studded with sapphires and diamonds. A crackling silver staff blazing with golden energy flickered between her white-knuckled hands, and her hair floated wild and uncombed in the static that rose from her. Her eyes were wide, darting around the camp, taking it all in...
…and settling on Threadbare.
There was a look of recognition in those eyes, recognition and relief, and the energy racing along the woman's staff slowed, and grounded itself in the dark water to either side. Steam hissed up from the black pools, and she slammed the end of the staff to the ground.
“What manner of witchery is this?” Anne whispered, and though her voice was low, the elf's ears twitched toward her, and the mage regarded the bunnykin solemnly.
“Who be ye!” Anne barked, finding her proper swagger again, and cocking the hammer back on a pistol as she slowly aimed it up...
“My name is Midian,” said the elf, before her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground.