They spent what time they had left of the morning gathering supplies. Hump had counted on his membership with the Adventurers’ Guild to gather any information he would need—without it, things were tricky. But it wouldn’t be the first time he’d enter a dungeon unprepared. Part of being a hedge wizard was figuring things out on the fly.

Food was obvious. The region was mountainous, and they couldn’t count on the land to feed them or their horses. He purchased most of the supplies at the market: hard bread; a sack of potatoes; oats; carrots; and with no old man to manage the budget, he’d splurged on some cured sausages. Four days of food didn’t come cheap, especially not with a broke-arse-knight to feed, but he wouldn’t be entering the dungeon hungry.

Unlike the Chosen, Hump’s magic came from within and from the world around him. He’d need all the energy he could get. And by the end of his shopping, he stared down sadly at the little over a silver he had remaining. It wasn’t so bad; if the dungeon didn’t work out, he still had a few of the old man’s potions that he could sell to keep him going. For now, they were worth more to him than coin.

“What next?” Bud asked.

“Wizarding things,” Hump said as he made his way back down the street to where he’d spotted the herbalist's before. “I need some ingredients. We wizards don’t all have it as easy as you. My spells don’t just come to me, no god grants them, they have a cost.”

Magic was simple for the Chosens: the gods grant them their blessing, along with access to a little of their power. After that it was barely any effort for them to use their skills. Mutter the incantation, adopt the correct stance, and Will it to activate. Easy. The gods did all the heavy lifting for them. There was no need to understand how the magic actually worked, it was imbued upon them. They were simply chosen.

Hedge wizards on the other hand figured most of it out for themselves. Sure, they had a starting point; many spells were devised from the powers of the Chosens, but there was no getting around the painstaking research that went into every spell.

Hump patted the hefty tome on his belt, just to reassure himself that it was still there. The thought of losing it was a waking nightmare. Each page was stuffed full of spells and diagrams, potion recipes and monster descriptions, along with a good deal of drunken ramblings. It was all that separated him from being a peasant. Worse than that, a gutter-wizard. Barely more than a homeless wanderer.

Sure, a few of them weren’t exactly useful. He’d spent each night flicking through them, familiarising himself. One in particular came from a small village in Lisarnu that functioned nowhere else. He’d never seen the old man use it—partially because of the logistical issues involved, even more so because it involved a night of naked dancing in a gathering of no less than thirty but no more than fifty-two. How they’d worked that out, he didn’t know.

As they entered the herbalist, the potency of dried herbs stung at Hump’s nostrils like a fragrant punch. It was a small shop, with shelves packed so tightly together that Bud had to scoot along sideways to avoid knocking anything over. The shopkeeper watched them with a discreet eye—not obvious, but Hump abandoned the urge to slip anything into his pockets.

He picked through the shelves with a discerning eye. Few of his spells worked purely on the strength and will of his body. They needed help. Most of his spells required long chants and ingredients to function—another of the long list of reasons why they’d never had much coin. Without any information on the dungeon, he decided on a selection of general-purpose healing and utility.

There was no real science behind the ingredients. He’d had a long conversation with a dwarven chemist about the makings of magical potions—she’d been trying to replicate a healing potion—and by the end of it, he could practically see the smoke coming out her ears.

Usually, the physical properties of the ingredient weren’t important, but rather the symbolic link between them and the spell. A package of chicken bones might seem useless to anyone but a cook, but it was part of the only spell he knew that could mend a bone.

One theory was that a spell’s effects came from the belief in the rituals and incantations; that the components were just a prompt to help to solidify one’s conviction. The old man seemed to believe it had some weight, but Hump had never been able to pull off a ritual without following the instructions.

“What’s this?” Bud asked, bending over to peer into a jar of beige liquid. He tapped the jar, and a tiny creature suctioned itself to the glass, a hole shaped mouthful of teeth between its tentacles. Bud whipped his hand back in a panic. “Yuck! It’s alive in there!”

“Don’t be such a wuss,” Hump said, laughing. “It’s an inksquid. Feed it a few droplets of blood and it can fill up an ink vial. They’re harmless.”

“Doesn’t look harmless.”

“Don’t worry, Bud. I’m sure it’s more afraid of you than you are of it. You stand guard, I’m going to finish shopping.”

Bud scowled. “Yeah, yeah. Go on then, get what you need."

Hump smiled. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a tenth of the coin to pay for everything he needed. In the end he settled for a sack of salt, a mix of dried herbs, chicken bones, a new stick of chalk, and a small jar of heartstone powder. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t replace all that he’d used to try and heal the old man, but it would have to do.

Let’s just hope nobody loses a limb, Hump thought as they left for the rendezvous point. Or at least, not an important one.

They arrived outside the Standing Pony a good half-hour before the allotted time. Their guide, Norwin, was a slim man with short brown hair that was beginning to recede from his forehead. The moment he greeted them, Hump was reminded of the quick talking city merchants; overly friendly and far too enthusiastic to be honest. But the sight of the other two groups waiting gave him confidence.

“Look who we have here!” one of the soldiers cheered. He was a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and a scraggly beard, the same man that had helped them in the inn last night. “We thought you’d be scared off after last night.”

“Not likely,” Hump said. “Wouldn’t be much of a dungeoneer if a handful of bandit pricks scared us off.”

The soldier was part of a party of six, each armoured in mail and leather, equipped with a variety of weapons. Two archers, both female, and four shield bearing fighters. Like him, these men wouldn’t be Chosen, but as the old man had always said, anyone that commits their life to training is to be respected. They would make for good travelling companions.

“No, you wouldn’t,” the man said. “But you taught them, eh. It was quite the show you put on. What are you, Chosen of Seres?” The God of Winds and Storms.

Hump shook his head. “Just a hedge wizard. I’m Hump.”

He shrugged, despite hiding it, Hump could tell he was disappointed. A Hedge Wizard could never be compared to a real sorcerer after all.

“It’ll be good to have you with us, Hump.” He turned to Bud and grinned widely. “But there’s no mistaking you for a knight. I bet the gods were fighting over you, huh?”

Bud scratched the back of his head and smiled awkwardly. “I don’t know about fighting… but yes. I am Bud of Blackthorn, sworn Knight of Kelisia.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oof, we’ve got a fancy one. The name’s Gerard. I’m the leader of this sorry band. This is Soot, Linsel, Bowin, Shar, and the big guy over there is Farris.”

Farris nodded to them. “Good to see you again, lads. Glad to see you took our warning at the inn to heart.”

“Got to work if I want to eat,” Hump said. “And this is the only job I know. Don’t worry about us.”

The older fellow hopped down from his perch on the fence and wandered over, rubbing his hands together. “Ah. Everyone is getting along,” Norwin said. “That’s what I like to see. No fighting, no running off, and by the gods’ will, we’ll make it to the dungeon safely. Isn’t that right, friends.” He stopped before Bud. “Now about my payment…”

“We’re adventurers,” Hump lied, pulling his medallion out from around his neck and holding it out for him to see.

Norwin glanced at it. “Ah,” he said, deflated. “Then forget I said anything.”

Hump tucked the medallion back away before anyone thought to touch it and confirm whether he was telling the truth or not. He felt bad about lying, but he’d spent the last of his coin at the herbalist, and by all rights he should have been an adventurer anyway. Why should he have to pay just because some woman was trying to make his life difficult? If he made out of the dungeon alive, he’d be sure to give the man a tip.

Right after Bud pays me back, Hump thought. With interest.

A pale glimmer caught Hump’s eye. Three Northmen stood apart from their group talking together in hushed voices, their ghostly skin shielded from the sunlight beneath thick fur hoods. From their equipment, Hump took them to be fast and fierce, forgoing the heavier armour that most of Estrai used in favour of thick furs. Both men carried axes, one a one-hander and a round wooden shield, the other a two-handed monster of an axe that Hump was certain weighed as much as he did. The third was a woman with a bow half the size of those of the soldiers. When she caught him staring, she met his gaze with the confidence of a huntress and smirked. Her eyes were a shimmering yellow, like a cat. He’d never heard of anyone with eyes like those. Hump inwardly cringed that she’d caught him staring, so he smiled and waved an awkward hand.

Now I look like an idiot, he thought to himself.

They waited every minute until the tenth bell rang; Norwin was not the slightest bit intimidated by the huddle of soldiers and barbarian Northmen hustling him to get moving. But the man’s patience paid off, when two cloaked figures approached them on the road from Bledsbury.

“So glad you could make it,” Norwin said fondly. “I am Norwin, your guide.”

The taller of the two travellers was a man with brown hair, slicked back onto his head and beginning to grey at the edges. Everything about him was sharp. He had the face of a hawk, his nose long and pointed, his eyes narrow and observant. At his hip he wore a sword, its hilt lavishly decorated with silver and in the single-handed style typical of nobles. The man glanced over them, and Hump’s heart thumped loudly in his ears. There was a pressure to his stare.

The other was a girl a little older than Hump. She was taller than him—of course—and had reddish hair that curled down past her shoulders, framing a face fit for a painting. Not your typical adventurer, that was for sure, but she had a bow strapped to her horse and a dagger at her hip.

“Greetings, my good man,” the sharp fellow said cheerfully. “I am Vamir. I was beginning to fear we might have missed you.”

“Not late at all. Not at all,” Norwin said quickly. “Your messenger arrived in good time, I made sure to tip a coin for his efforts.”

“Much obliged,” Vamir said.

“Might I ask who the beautiful lady is?” Norwin smiled; it only came across as slightly creepy.

The girl glanced behind her, then back at the man. She feigned surprise, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh you meant me. I’m Celaine.”

Norwin’s smile twitched. “A pleasure, Celaine. Truly.” He turned back to Vamir. “Though it pains me to mention it, I must bring up the matter of the fee…”

“How much will it be?” Vamir asked.

“Five coppers each,” Norwin said.

Vamir pulled a coin from the purse on his belt and flipped it through the air with his thumb. It hummed with the ring, as gold flipped over and over through the air, glinting in the sunlight. Hump’s eyes followed it hungrily. Norwin snatched it greedily, eyes wide.

“This is too much, milord,” Norwin said.

“Think of it as an advance to see us there quickly,” Vamir said.

“Of course, milord,” Norwin said. He glanced up at the sun. “Let us be off then.”

Hump and Bud followed toward the back of their small column, following the Mountain Road north. Hump couldn’t help but grin.

“What are you so happy about?” Bud asked.

“I was just thinking that maybe you’re right. Maybe a god is looking out for us after all.”

Bud narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”

Hump’s smile widened. “Good company.”