"Let's go with Miss Aoko's plan and use mass fly," Xenk said, a bit helpless. "It's cheaper than teleportation."
"I have rope," Holga offered, pulling out her pack. "I can tie it to my axe, throw it over to the pillar, and we can climb across."
"I don't think that's safe," Aoko replied. "The rock here is fragile, and if it breaks, we're doomed. It's just a spell slot—no big deal."
"Wait, Holga—can I see that wooden staff in your pack?" Simon suddenly asked.
"You mean the walking stick I took from the Marlamin family?" Holga said, tossing it to him. "It's too short for anyone but a halfling."
"This isn't a walking stick!" Simon exclaimed, stroking the staff. "It's a staff of portals!"
"Where did Marlamin get that?" Aoko wondered, seeing the magical glow. "That's not cheap—very expensive."
"I stole it from a wizard in Graypeak Mountain," Holga explained, seeing Xenk's look. "But that old wizard wasn't a good guy—he kidnapped villagers for magical experiments."
"This staff can create two linked portals up to 500 feet apart!" Simon explained. "Watch, I'll show you!"
"Por—" Simon began, and a portal opened in the wall beside him. He pointed at the far side of the lava river. "—tal!"
Another portal opened among the ruins across the river, creating a tunnel between the two sides. Simon stuck his head through, and his voice echoed from the far side.
"See that? Problem solved—no spell slots used!"
Even the usually serious Xenk smiled at Simon's luck and skill.
The party crossed the portal and continued, eventually reaching the center of a hanging island lined with gnome statues holding braziers.
Whether the statues exaggerated the gnomes' size or not, they looked taller and burlier than Aoko—more like dwarves than gnomes.
Xenk walked silently, counting the statues. He stopped at one holding a stone basin.
"We're here," Xenk said. "The helm is right here."
"Where?" Edgin looked around. "I don't see it."
Without a word, Xenk blew gently on the basin, dispelling a layer of dust—actually a type of illusion. Beneath it was a golden mechanism. Xenk placed his hands on two opposite slots, and the device began to whir and rotate, revealing a central platform.
Xenk took an enchanted ruby from his pouch and placed it on the platform, which sank and swallowed it. The device kept spinning, and a golden helm, shrouded in black sand, rose into view.
Xenk carefully lifted the helm out, then turned to Edgin, searching his eyes as if making a final judgment.
"I formally entrust you with the Helmet of disjunction," Xenk said. "I choose to believe in a Harper's oath. Protect it with your life—never let it fall into evil hands."
"…I will," Edgin replied seriously, taking the helm. "Here, Simon, hold this."
He immediately handed it off to Simon, as if the helm or its oath was too hot to handle. Before Aoko could ask to examine the helm's enchantments, Xenk suddenly looked around sharply, as if sensing something.
"Evil is near—right around us!" Xenk said.
"Thayan assassins," Aoko said, narrowing her eyes at the other end of the avenue. "Only five? Are we not worth more?"
"Leave them to me!" Xenk drew his sword, its holy runes blazing in Aoko's magical sight.
"You've aged, Yendar," the bald Thayan assassin leader called out in Thayan, which Aoko could understand thanks to her Tongues amulet. "Has life made you soft?"
"Dralas," Xenk replied coldly. "Your face is as annoying as ever. Do you think you can beat me with these losers? You're just my defeated underling."
For the first time, Xenk showed his sharp tongue—maybe because he thought outsiders couldn't understand Thayan.
"Try me, Yendar," Dralas growled. "Szass Tam heard about you and sent me to kill you. I'm glad to avenge my shame—you won't live long!"
Dralas's four assassins charged. They were quick—but not quick enough.
Xenk, encased in a plate, moved like a tank—fast, powerful, and precise. His swordsmanship was unique—wide, sweeping strikes combined with cunning dagger attacks hidden in the blade, catching the assassins off guard.
Sensing the fight going badly, Dralas drew a steel scimitar, green flames flaring along its blade—a Flameblade, marking him as a likely warlock.
As the real battle began, Xenk chanted holy words, his sword's runes lighting up in turn, bathing the blade in golden light.
Burning a spell slot, Xenk unleashed his signature paladin move: Divine Smite!
The clash began—Divine Smite dealing far more damage to evil than the Flameblade could to Xenk. But it only mattered if it connected.
The two crossed swords were evenly matched—the clang of metal echoing through the vast ruins.