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AS IT TURNED OUT, IT was a lot easier to bring up Delphine’s situation to the group than I thought. But it wasn’t because there was a clear opening to talk about it. Instead, circumstances ended up forcing my hand.
We had been on the road to Rothschan for two full days and had settled into our makeshift camp for the night. All through the night I kept trying to figure out how to bring up the wanted poster that Ravon had given me. While we were unpacking our horses? While we were cooking dinner? While we were cleaning up and getting ready to go to sleep? I suppose I could have said something at any point in the evening, but I was just too cowardly. I didn’t want to destroy the easy camaraderie our group had. I didn’t want to think about what Rhyss, Farrah, and I would have to do if we needed to restrain Delphine and, presumably, her mother.
And I didn’t want to know the true answer to the question, was the sweet and bubbly Delphine actually a murderer?
So I kept my mouth shut, all the while silently berating myself for my cowardice. Rhyss offered to take the first watch, with Farrah to relieve him. We banked the fire and settled into our bedrolls, and soon I could hear the light snoring and deep breathing of my companions that signaled they were asleep.
I lay there in the darkness, staring up at the few stars that I could see peeking through the dark tree branches overhead. Finally, I fell into a fitful sleep, still fretting about the paper with Delphine’s face that was an unwanted weight in my pocket.
* * *
I HELD THE WANTED POSTER at arm’s length as I studied it intently, willing Delphine’s unmoving face to give up its secrets. As I continued to stare at her portrait, one of her eyes suddenly winked at me. A smirk played at her lips.
“Delphine?” I croaked, surprised at the picture’s sudden movement. I was taken aback by the knowing expression on Delphine’s face, so unlike the person I knew.
Her smirk deepened. Her arms reached out from the paper and grabbed my arms, drawing me into the poster.
The world around me melted into an odd grayish cream color, devoid of any scenery. The horizon was a darker gray, fading into a black void. The air had a slightly sooty, wood-and-metallic tang to it. I raised my shirtsleeve to my nose, breathing shallowly through the fabric to avoid the odd taste the air left in my mouth.
I turned to my companion, my voice muffled. “Delphine? What is this place? Why did you bring me here?”
She smiled and started to say something, but then suddenly gasped. The smile slipped from her face as her eyes grew wide and fearful. She started struggling against something unseen, something that was pulling her backwards.
“Dephine? What’s wrong?” I asked, but she continued to slide away from me. She thrashed her head violently from side to side, but it looked like whatever had ahold of her wouldn’t allow her to speak.
I attempted to move after her, but my feet wouldn’t cooperate. Whatever unknown force was taking my friend away from me had also pinned me in place.
“Delphine!” I screamed.
She had a brief moment of reprieve from her invisible captor, just enough time to say, “Come find me, Kaernan!”
And then, still struggling, she was dragged into the blackness on the horizon, and was gone.
* * *
MY DISTURBING DREAM about Delphine jarred me out of my slumber. I woke up feeling unusually ... heavy. It was hard to wake up, like when you stay up too late and then fall asleep, only to wake still feeling exhausted. I fought through the mental fog that was wrapped around my brain and sat up, extremely groggy.
Nearby, Farrah and Rhyss sat up in their bedrolls, trying to blink away the remnants of sleep as well. Farrah looked at me curiously. “Kaernan, are you all right?” Her voice was oddly muffled.
I shook my head, but it felt like I was trying to do so underwater. And it made the dull throbbing at the back of my skull worsen.
“No,” I said. Even my words came out slow and fuzzy, like my tongue was wrapped in cotton. “I had a bad dream that someone ... some thing ... took —”
“Delphine? Where’s Delphine?”
I turned my head — carefully — to see Adallia looking around, wide-eyed. She seemed disoriented, too, and sounded just as cotton-tongued as I did.
“Maybe she went to relieve herself?” I suggested.
“No ... no,” Adallia said. “She knows not to stray from the group unless she tells one of us where she’s going first.”
Rhyss groaned, drawing my attention. He was holding his head, wincing in pain. He caught me looking at him. “I feel like I do the day after we celebrate a successfully completed commission, without the fun of actually drinking in celebration.”
Farrah frowned. She reached out and touched Rhyss on his temple. In just moments, he brightened considerably as his headache lessened. He beamed at his friend. “Thanks, Farrah.”
She was still frowning, her brow now furrowed in deep thought. “Not a problem.” Her expression grew more serious. “Your headache was a result of something magical, not natural.”
Now we were all looking at her. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Didn’t you set up the magical wards last night?”
She nodded. “I did, like I do every night. You hired me for my magical abilities; I wouldn’t have forgotten something so basic to my job.”
I nodded as well. I hadn’t meant to sound accusatory, but I had to explore every angle.
Fortunately, Farrah didn’t seem offended, just thoughtful. “Everyone seems to be feeling disoriented, even though we got a good night’s sleep. Actually, we’re all feeling that way because we got a good night’s sleep. Well, maybe not that good. It feels like ... I think someone cast a sleeping powder on our group in the night.”
“But how?” I asked. “I thought your wards protected against that sort of thing.”
“Against magical attacks, yes,” Farrah said. “But not against physical attacks or magical items. No wards can do that. That’s why you should always set a watch.”
She turned to look pointedly at Rhyss, who wilted under her glare and sheepishly looked away. “Sorry,” he said. “I was watching ... but the next thing I knew, I was waking up with the rest of you.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “From what Farrah is saying, it doesn’t sound like there was much you could have done.”
“No, Farrah’s right, I’m usually more competent than this. I should have —”
“It doesn’t matter what you should have done,” Adallia interrupted impatiently. “What matters is what we do now. And in this whole time we’ve been talking, my daughter hasn’t returned. Do you suppose ... do you suppose she’s been taken?”
“Oh, no,” Farrah said, in an attempt to comfort Adallia. “Why would anyone want to take your daughter?”
This was it. Now I had to say something. I picked up my rolled up jacket, which had been serving as a makeshift pillow. Reaching into the inside pocket, I drew out the crumpled piece of paper and smoothed it out.
“I think I know what may have happened. Adallia, I need you to be honest with us. Does this state the truth about your daughter?”