A Gift from Dead Gods, 8.

Luno was furious. “Why was I not told? This gift of theirs! A wonderful, amazing suit of armor!” Fyanha shrugged. “Look, that’s the sisters for you. Every blessing is a curse. And you should be happy that armor cleans itself. If it didn’t, you’d be on your own.” He sat down, hanging his head. “But why? Why would they give me armor that doesn’t come off? Will I have to wear it forever?”
It was dark, and they were sitting at a campfire Fyanha had created. After the foiled ambush earlier in the day they had walked on, closer to the forests. As night fell, Luno had tried to take off his armor. He had failed. The armor was sealed shut, trapping him inside.
Fyanha stood up, walking around the fire. “Look, champion. You can ask the sisters about the armor when we get back to the Artok. Or maybe the Lord?” She grinned. “Of course, this might all be part of His great plan.” Luno stared at her, then started shaking his head. “Let us just let it rest. We should rest too. Tomorrow we could make it to the edge of the forest, and prepare.” She nodded and curled up next to the fire.
Sighing, Luno stared at the sky.

The next evening, they reached the edge of the forests. Fyanha turned. “We are close to our destination now. Can you set up some magical wards?” She grinned and continued, “I smell fresh food.” Luno nodded, and she ran off into the nearby trees. He sighed and started gathering wood for the fire. Even magical fire needed a fuel source to keep burning.
Later that night, as they were eating whatever it was Fyanha had caught. She’d brought it back already nearly burned, and as good as done. “Tell me, champion. Do we have a plan?” Luno started grinning. “We are on their grounds, without any knowledge. We have their unwillingness to kill as an advantage. They say no plan survives contact with the enemy. My plan is making our enemies not survive contact with us.”
“Spoken like a true Champion of Murder.”, said a voice. Fyanha jumped up, fire surrounding her hands. Luno pulled his swords as he stood up. “Who dares adress us without showing himself?”