The archmagi wrapped the tip of his staff on the marble floor, the runes that covered the gnarled artifact blazed sliver. "We will begin!" The seven judges standing in a rough circle began to intone and a curtain of mystical energy blossomed to life.

"I won't!" Nick set his jaw and shook his head once.

Lane smirked at the young man's ire, a gleam dancing in the corners of his eyes. "Well, Nicky, I don't see how you have any say in the matter."

"It's dark!" "Ach!" "Where are we?!"

"Stop moving! Give me a second!" Nikodamus growled and everyone quieted. He called a spell to mind and willed it to life. A small globe of light winked into existence in his hand and he sent it up, and up, and up. The four of them stood in a large cavern, a great pile of broken stone at least as tall as ten men filled half the expansive space. The young wizard could see two openings into the cavern from where they stood.

"I told you not to taunt the elemental," Hadrian quipped, his breath misting in the still air as he spoke.

The diminutive goblin pointed towards a hole in the pile of rough rocks that they were climbing on. "We're going in there?" Nikodamus asked - it looked exactly like every other small crevasse in the jumble. The goblin answered by lowering itself into the hole feet first. The young wizard quickly mumbled the words to a spell; he felt his body shrink and change as he adopted the body of his short guide. As he lowered himself into the hole he silently thanked his mentor's training him in the magical art of transmutation.

The young man leaned over the rail of the the skiff to touch the water. "Wouldn't do that if I was you," the grizzled man at the tiller warned. Nikolai paused for a breath before he dipped his hand in the river and splashed some water on his face. He opened his eyes and stared in shock at a disturbingly accurate replica of his face shaped out of water. The simulacrum rose a couple finger spans above the surface of the river and seemed to follow the skiff.

Suddenly, the water began to roil. His watery doppleganger gaped in a silent scream of terror and pain as it began to dissolve. All around, other half formed faces rose and fell from the waves, each bearing a visage marred by fear or anguish. A liquid hand took shape, reaching out for the young passenger, and Nikolai threw himself back against the other side of the skiff.

Vayne laughed, it was a dry rasping sound. "It ain't called the River of Souls for nothing, boy!"

"So that is it," the noble said as he adjusted his immaculate coat.

Across the table from the man, Nikolai threw his friend a sidelong glance, but Brahm kept his eyes fixed on the noble. "Excuse me, but I need to make sure that we understand your proposal. You want us to lead you and a crew of other 'naturalists' into Thunder Gap because you want to count bats?"

There it was again, the gentle swish of snow, this time he was sure. Nikolai knew the sound of snow falling from the trees, and this was not it. The young man's hand hovered near the sword at his waist. He stood in his saddle and scanned the forest in front and then behind him, but he saw only dark and silent pine. His horse snorted as it stamped his feet in the shin high snow - as if it sensed the knight-errant's unease.