I had a great many burning questions, but the priority right then was to help those in need. Lore, Corminar and I followed the older tiefling man to a man about his age lying on the floor, cradling a elbow point that was bleeding profusely and carried no hand.

  Corminar pulled out a healing potion, and poured just the smallest amount down the man’s throat.

  I blinked at him. ‘Will that be enough?’

  ‘I have only two in my possession.’

  ‘Can you make more?’ Lore asked.

  Corminar hesitated. ‘Scout the oasis,’ he said. ‘The primary ingredient I need to create more are soothing succulents.’

  ‘What’ll they look like?’ I asked.

  ‘They will have thick leaves,’ the elf replied as he inspected the man’s wound. The worst of the bleeding seemed to have stopped. ‘Sturdy. The relevant plants in this continent are said to have a blue trim.’

  I nodded, and Lore and I hurried over to the oasis. I considered opening a portal to close the gap, but it would save only a handful of seconds, and I didn’t want to startle anyone. The last thing these people needed was to think that they were under attack.

  At the water’s edge, Lore and I parted, each traversing around one side. There were few plants here that fit Corminar’s specifications, only a handful, and one that I could see with the telltale blue trim that the elf had told us to watch out for. I sliced it from the ground with my dagger, revealing and almost fleshy, gel-like interior, and hurried back to Corminar’s side.

  The elf nodded, and handed Lore and I a healing vial each. ‘Ration them,’ he said. ‘Even with this, I will still only be able to brew so much.’

  I nodded, and as I turned back to the rest of the injured, I noticed the Trio watching on, out of the corner of my eye. Ama was muttering something to Raelas, but at this distance, I couldn’t hear what. I considered shouting out, demanding their help, but instead turned my attention to the next of the injured—a younger tiefling, who’d lost a leg.

  ‘Here,’ I said, tipping a little of the potion into her mouth. I could see the wound heal some—enough, at least, to keep her alive for now. ‘Who did this?’ I asked, nodding to the wound.

  She stared blankly back at me, and in that moment I understood. She’d done it to herself. It had been the only way to stop the corruption spreading, and to survive. Except… those vultures had survived it somehow—in a way, at least.

  ‘You’ll get to a healer. They’ll be able to…’ I stopped myself from saying more; at this point, it was best not to promise anything.

  Lore and I continued around the injured as Corminar finished brewing more, and he flashed a nod for us to give more to each injured person. Before long, we’d stopped the worst of the bleeding, and no more would die this day. As Lore and I returned to Corminar’s side, the elf was speaking with the older tiefling who’d first met us.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘The Architects bless you, thank you.’

  ‘Yes, yes, that is quite alright,’ Corminar replied.

  The tiefling flung himself forward and wrapped his arms around the elf, hugging him tight. ‘You saved my husband! You saved all of them!’

  ‘I only use my alchemical gifts to…’ Corminar began to reply, blushing helplessly in the tiefling’s arms.

  ‘Sent by the gods themselves!’ the older man continued.

  When it all became too much, Corminar wrenched himself free of the tiefling’s arms, and the tiefling instead shifting his attention to Lore. The barbarian met the older man’s hug with as keen a hug of his own. When it came to be my turn, I portaled myself to the other side of Corminar to avoid it.

  ‘We need to find where these creatures are coming from,’ I said, hoping to trade on the goodwill we’d brought with Corminar’s potions and move on from the whole hugging thing.

  The man narrowed his eyes. ‘Why?’

  ‘We seek to put a cork in the metaphorical bottle. We seek to kill them all,’ Corminar replied, and this answer put the tiefling at ease.

  ‘I don’t know where they all came from originally, but I can tell you where lots of them are now.’

  ‘The ones that hurt you? Tried to corrupt you?’ I asked.

  But the tiefling shook his head. ‘No, our battle took place in our home, a few hours to the southeast. Corrupted vultures swooped down from on high, to—’

  ‘We know,’ Corminar cut in. ‘We fought them.’

  The tiefling raised his eyebrows. ‘And you escaped without injury?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘We didn’t escape; we killed them.’

  The older man took a very literal step backwards, though I sensed that it was out of a sense of theatrics rather than genuine surprise. ‘Then perhaps you stand a chance after all! Perhaps we may rid these holy lands of the blight. Perhaps we might live our lives once more.’

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  ‘You… mentioned Malae?’ Lore cut in. ‘Other Malae? Where?’

  ‘I…’ the tiefling said, and his so recently bright expression faded to one of darkness. ‘I think it is best I show you. Would you and your…’ — he looked over to the Trio, still watching on — ‘friends like to join us?’

  ‘Travelling companions,’ Corminar corrected him. ‘Not friends. Though yes, they should be provided with the same information as ourselves.’

  The tiefling nodded, then begged our patience while he returned to his partner, and picked up an old, rusting metal flask. He pointed north, towards the hills. ‘This way,’ he said.

  ‘Is it far?’ I asked, considering filling up my own water flask.

  ‘Not as far as we would like,’ came the reply.

  * * *

  The tiefling turned out to be correct—it took only ten minutes or so before we grew close; something I sensed only because the man grew hesitant to proceed. We’d climbed across increasingly steep sand dunes, and across outcrops of bright orange rock that seemed to be slowly pushing forth from the ground. And then, in front of us, we saw a canyon cut into the rock below.

  The tiefling whipped out his hand in front of Corminar to halt us. ‘We should not step closer,’ he said. ‘We might disturb them.’

  ‘We must see for ourselves,’ the elf replied, and though still glum, the tiefling removed his arm from Corminar’s path.

  The six of us approached the canyon edge slowly, and fear reared its ugly head in my gut. From the pace of the others, I suspected they were feeling much the same.

  Our guide had said the canyon had formed in aeons past, the river that had carved it long since dried up—or diverted by tiefling settlements. Now, it was dry, and a reminder of what this land might have been if properly tended to.

  As we approached, we realised just how deep the canyon went, the opposite cliff face growing larger and larger with every step we took closer. And then, when we finally reached the cliff edge, we saw that the canyon floor was covered in darkness.

  Lore staggered backwards, paling.

  My heart dropped.

  I realised then what I was seeing. Not darkness, not shadow, but a layer of Malae crowded on the canyon floor. Not one. Not even dozens. Hundreds.

  Behind me, Lore roared, clutching his hands to his head. He was the only other among us who had truly seen what the Malae were capable of. What a single Mala was capable of. Let alone hundreds. This many could destroy entire continents. Maybe even entire worlds.

  ‘We’ll find a way, Lore,’ I told him. ‘We’ll find a way to kill them.’

  ‘No,’ he breathed, still clutching his head.

  ‘We will. We’ll rain fire down on them from the heavens above if we have to. We’ll—’

  ‘It’s not that,’ he croaked. ‘You haven’t got it, have you? There’s hundreds in there.’

  ‘Yes, I saw. We—’

  ‘That doesn’t just happen, Styk! They don’t just reproduce like that. Don’t you see? The Councilman was wrong! These people ain't just trading in Malae. They're… they're…’ Lore stumbled over the words, seemingly unable to bring himself to say them.

  But I could. I’d made the leap in logic, now. I’d realised what he had a minute earlier, when he’d stared down into the chasm, and seen the void incarnate staring back at him.

  ‘They’re not trading them,’ I finished for the barbarian. ‘They’re breeding them.’

  Lore gulped, then nodded.