Following a series of hard raps against the door, Ayla was pulled from a hazy dream by the dwarf’s gravelly voice. “Ayla, time to get to.”

  She opened her eyes, looking around the bedroom. It was darker than she expected for morning. The fire was out, but a few embers remained. She turned, burying her face into the pillow, catching a lingering scent of lavender soap. Every joint ached, especially her knees and ankles, but she was also refreshed in way she hadn’t experienced in months. She stretched under the covers, grateful for the warm bed, quickly realizing she didn’t want to abandon it to the cool room. Running her hands along the sheets, she took a moment to appreciate the heat trapped within the cushioned hills. She brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes and twisted on her side, relishing the weighty cover over her body. She reached down, ripping the socks off her feet and stretched her legs. The way her bedding hugged and warmed toes was heavenly. She most certainly didn’t want to get up.

  Nonetheless, today was her first day as a barmaid in Witchwicks.

  She flipped the covers and swung her legs over the side, her bare soles landing on the chilly stone floor. She stood tall, stretching high, arching her back as she reached for the ceiling. A morning yawn escaped her mouth. She drew her hands in, roaring her wrists and pushing her fingers in until they popped to satisfaction. She lifted her slip over her head and scrunched up, tossing it to the bed. She snatched her dress from the floor and wiggled her way into it.

  The dress was pale-blue, displaying a winter like scene as white diamonds scattered in wavy columns. Its hem, trimmed with a deep navy blue, was also hiding shards of red toilstones. The neckline scooped down, revealing her petite frame and the scars on her left breast. She wondered if others would ask them? Maybe they would, maybe not? In a tavern filled with warriors and thugs, she figured the scars wouldn’t surprise them. She pressed the dress against her body, pushing out any major wrinkles, tugging at the hem so that it fell just above her knees.

  The dress was not without its wear and tear due to her arduous journey west. She detected a few snags in the thread and two different tears that needed stitching, though she was without the proper resources for repair. Her hand crossed a small orange patch she’d sewn on after accidentally tearing the dress - an accident from another place and time. It was Ayla’s first time wearing it when a small nail hanging off a fence post snagged the skirt as she left the storehouse. Her mother had finished sewing the dress just two days earlier and now it’s damaged. When she presented the tear, her mother simply said, “What a delightful accident! We get to add to the dress.” She placed a crate of fabrics on the table, “Now, pick a color.”

  How do we get so far from home? Ayla pulled her blonde hair back into a very loose ponytail which laid between her shoulder blades. She took a deep breath. Everything seemed presentable. She stared into the cold fire pit. Look forward. Talk to people. This is exactly the fresh start you needed, Ayla. This could be your new home.

  She heard a ribbit. She skipped to the window next to her bed and pulled back the blue curtain. Ayla couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was as dark now as it was when she arrived the night before. Given her journey into Brangwen Woods, she felt silly for expecting any sunshine at all.

  She leaned in, searching through the glass for the source of the low ribbit. She saw a giant pink toad hopping along the side of the tavern. It stopped and stared at her. She watched it disappear for a moment, and then hop onto a barrel at the base of the window. Its eyes moved down towards a tiny spider, at home in its webbed corner. In a flash, the toad’s tongue unfolded, stuck the spider and whipped it back into its mouth. The toad looked up at Ayla, and then hopped off.

  “Oh, um, thank you, Mr. Toad.”

  She turned back to her bedroom door. Suddenly, she was filled with excitement. On the other side of her bedroom door was a new world filled with possibilities and she had hooped Fraz would want to keep her around. She practically skipped out into the greater tavern. She didn’t get too far before making sure her room was locked. She slipped the key in, twisted and yanked the key out. She jiggled the handle. Locked.

  Fraz was to her left, in the center of the tavern’s south wing, rearranging the chairs. They had been wildly scattered during last night’s brawl. Most of the chairs remained upright, but she counted a few that had been tipped over. After shoving a chair into place, Fraz glanced at her bare feet and raised an eyebrow.

  “A lot of shit gets broken in this place.”

  “I’ll be okay!” She wiggled her toes.

  “You’re a strange one,” he grumbled. “Scarlet’s apron is still hanging behind the counter there,” Fraz pointed lazily to the apron. “Yours now, I guess.”

  Okay, she thought. He means to keep me onboard then.

  She couldn’t help but smile. She hurried around the counter and dawned the red apron. It was a perfect fit. As she tied the apron around her waist, she spun around and soaked in her surroundings.

  Witchwicks was deceptively larger on the inside than one would have thought upon first approach. On her side of the tavern was the bar, which ran across the entire eastern wall. Looking straight onto the bar, it was flanked by the massive wizard’s cabinet on the right and on the left was a small hallway and two doors, which led to Fraz and Ayla’s rooms respectively. Just to the right of the bar was access to the kitchen. Pushing against a creaky wooden door, she peeked inside. She found a massive oven and stove combination in the center and two counter tops with accompanying cupboards to the far left. They was also an island for food prep. There were halved barrels sitting on elevated frames for sinks on her right. The kitchen was fully stocked. She saw piles of fruit, mounds of bread - all stored on massive shelves that lined the east wall. All sorts of pots, pans and cooking utensils dangled from an old iron pot rack above the stove. Near the back of the east wall was a giant door in the floor.

  To the cellar, she thought. Beyond that was a door that led outside, likely for deliveries.

  To her immediate left, next to the kitchen entrance, were a few hooks with aprons hanging. There was a small, cushioned cabinet below. The cushion was well used with a few poorly stitched patches where stuffing bulged out. Next to the seat were five massive barrels attached to plumbing that reached up to the ceiling and led back to the bar just on the other side of the wall. Finally, just past the barrels was a third door which led to a tiny hallway parting the kitchen from the bedrooms. The kitchen was impressively large and she surprised to see so much space between the counters, oven and island. She imagined a whole crew must work back here.

  Returning to the bar counter she looked out to the greater tavern. There was the main floor, which acted as a enormous lounge. The giant fireplace was the central feature, surrounded by fourteen well used tables, one of which could seat a dozen men. To the left of the fireplace was the south wing of the tavern, to the right was the north wing. In the furthest corner of the north wall, there was a stage where the bard would presumably work his magic. A variety of second hand chairs and stools were placed around the stage.

  Every wall had trophies. Almost too many to count! She found more mounted heads, skulls, a dragon’s tooth, tanned hides, rusted swords, chipped shields, tabards and even bloodied war banners representing countries from across the sea. She also saw chains with shackles, portraits of warriors fighting evil wizards and good wizards conquering the souls of the damned. Each wall displayed countless legendary stories, all of which Ayla hoped to learn about some day.

  “How did you get all of these?” she asked.

  Fraz scooted a giant chair under the table and turned, stroking his beard, “Knew some of them, others were here before me. Every one of them is a tale worth telling. That’s why they’re here.”

  “Can I hear one?”

  Fraz leaned back, stretching his aching spine. “Well, take the skull there behind ya. It’s from a giant saber-toothed cat. It was stalking a hunting party that aimed to bring food back to its tribe. Claimed one of the hunters. It was his sister, if I recall right, that took the saber’s head. What was her name? Hm. Sapphira, that’s right. She was a tremendous spear warrior. In fact, that’s one of her spears next to it. She avenged her brother and protected her tribe with that. Almost every story on these walls is the same. People saving – or trying to save – other people. There might be a few illegally procured items, but uh, it’s hard to remember which is which.” He winked.

  Her eyes scanned each piece. They were spellbinding. She wanted to hear another story, but decided to ask another time. Her eyes finally reached the giant, imposing chandelier hanging over the center of the south wing of the tavern. It looked like gothic iron crown. It must have had a hundred candles, and each was lit, melted at different heights.

  “Where do you store the extra candles for the chandelier?”

  “Huh?” said Fraz, scratching his chin. “Oh, no. Those candles never go out.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Ever?” Ayla looked up. These must be the ever-burning lights, she thought. The witch’s candles.

  “Never ever,” he said, turning away from her. She twisted around to see what else the tavern offered.

  On the south side of the building was a stairwell that led up to balcony that ran all the way down the tavern and over the bard stage. It served as an overlook where patrons can enjoy the sounds from the main floor or retreat to one of seven available bedrooms, either to sleep off their drunken state or enjoy other pleasures. Below the balcony was a door with a sign above it that read, “Baths.” Underneath it was another sign. It read, “Out of Service.”

  Ayla felt hard bread crumbs under her feet. She looked around. The floor was in quite a state and she figured there was no time like the present to get started with the cleaning! She looked for a broom and dustpan. She found both to the left of the front door, leaning against the wall between the frame and a barrel of forgotten weapons. She started sweeping up the scattered food, broken glass pints and dirt carried in from the woods.

  She looked up and watched Fraz transfer wood from the stationed cart to the fireplace. She was impressed. The logs were almost three times his size, but he had the muscle. He moved one log over and used a giant stoker to leverage it on top of the pile he was building.

  “Are the rooms upstairs occupied?” she asked.

  “Just one of ‘em. A succubus. Her client didn’t show, I think. Mulling over what she ought to do next, I’m sure. Probably sucker some bloke out of his hard-earned coin.”

  Ayla’s eyebrow perked up. What’s a succubus? she thought. She shrugged and continued to sweep. As she neared the bath door, she heard something snarl on the other side. She stepped back, looking at Fraz, who evidently heard the noise too.

  “Leave it be,” he said. He returned to his work.

  She swept some more, eyeing the door suspiciously, and then hurried along.

  She noticed another door near the bottom of the stairs. She swept her way across the floor and opened it, revealing a parlor. It was difficult to see outside. The window exteriors were covered in some sort of moldy grime. Placed in the middle of the room was a single rectangular table and half a dozen chairs around it. The lamps on the table faintly burned. There was also a small stack of papers. She rotated the top sheet, sliding it towards the lamp. It appeared to be a list of specialty items. The paper underneath was a map for what appeared to be a mansion. She took the papers and closed the door behind her.

  “Hey, Fraz,” she said, wandering over in his direction. She held out the papers, “How do you handle this?”

  Fraz took a quick look at them. “Someone planning a heist, looks like. If they left ‘em, we burn ‘em. No reason to have the…” he air quoted the next word, “authorities snooping about.”

  She nodded and stuffed the papers into her apron. She’d burn them later.

  She scooped up the dirt pile and walked over to a short wooden barrel located on the right side of the front door. She dumped the dirt and then staged the broom and dustpan next to the barrel.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, wiping her hands against her apron, “I can make you some breakfast?”

  “Already ate. Go ahead and make something for yourself though.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve got some errands to run today,” said Fraz. He lifted the firewood cart and rolled it to the side, lining it parallel to the stone base around the fireplace. “Before you start chowing, I wanna show you around first.”

  He waved to her as he walked across the tavern and to the front door. She followed him over the threshold.

  “The sun never shines here?” she said quietly, mostly to herself.

  “Part of the allure, I think.” He watched her bare feet as she stepped into the wet grass. “You really ain’t bothered like that? No shoes and all?”

  “Nope, I’m okay.”

  “Man I’ve met some strange ones, but you’re taking the cake,” he mumbled. Fraz led Ayla around to the east side of the building. She didn’t notice last night because he was behind the counter, but he had a limp. He glanced over his shoulder, catching her eyes on his leg. She noticed he had caught her watching him and looked away embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry. That’s a fun story. I’ll tell you later.” They stopped near the middle of the east wall. He gestured out towards the woods. “The cellar is located under this ground. It’s where the meat and other cold items go, of course.” Then he continued walking around the building to the north side. There was a large wooden door with long black hinges.

  “That goes into the kitchen,” she said. She noticed her bedroom window further down the wall and the small crates and barrel the toad used to capture its breakfast.

  “Aye, and that’s where we store the firewood,” he said, pointing to a shack that was leaning against the building. There was a stump with an axe in it. Next to the shack was a post with a lantern hanging overhead. It wasn’t lit. “It gets a little crazy out here at night, as if you could tell when that was, so make sure you bring a lantern out here when you’re getting the firewood. That way you can at least see the danger when it strikes.”

  “Comforting,” said Ayla. “I will do that.” She noted the size of the logs.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to lift those though. Will smaller logs be okay?”

  “Wood’s lighter than you think but do what you can. I just want that fire going all night.”

  “Can do.”

  He pointed to the right towards a series of trails that led into the forest. “North here are portal anchors. They communicate with the portal inside the tavern. Some of our crowd comes from different places as I’m sure you saw. Every once in a while, I clean up the trail. It’s not something you need to worry about, but it’s good to know it’s there.”

  “Can anyone access it? The portal, I mean?”

  “No,” said Fraz. “Far as I can tell, we’re the only place in Malafane that really uses it. Hell, that might be true for all of Dohmon. I think it’s a lost magic for most. It took some… cooperation… for us to have it. I require all portal users to be licensed beforehand. I hold onto the records and paperwork. Like I said, I don’t want the authorities snooping around.”

  Good to know, she thought. He led her further on. As she they passed the trail, her gut twisted. Would a future threat eventually come through? What about the opposite? Maybe the portal can be a way out. She wondered how the anchors work.

  They rounded the corner and she looked up at the second story. There were seven windows. One of them was bright. That must have been the room where the succubus was staying. From the window she saw an impressive entanglement of vines and cracks in the tavern wall, reaching down to the rounded exterior of the bathhouse. She saw five darkened stained glass windows.

  “How old is this place,” she asked.

  Fraz chuckled, “Its age is somewhat of a mystery. It’s looked this way for as long as I’ve been here.”

  “When was that?”

  “Don’t remember,” he said.

  Ayla folded her arms, looking around. Opposite of the tavern was a pile of lumber under an oiled canvas. She also spotted a set of tools.

  “What’s all of that?”

  “Project coming up. I have some customers who’ll need the extra space.”

  He left it at that and led her around the final corner, now on the south side of the tavern. She saw the swinging Witchwicks sign from the night before. There were more barrels stacked along the wall between the parlor exterior and front door. There were stools too, for patrons who chose to eat or drink outside. They were covered in moss, so it was obvious to Ayla that it’d been a while. There was a small clearing to her right where a pavilion stood. It too looked underused. At one point in time it might have been fancy, based off the woodwork. Now it was gloomy, covered by overgrown plants and dead leaves.

  “That’s the place,” said Fraz, extending his arms. “Welcome to Witchwicks.”

  Ayla couldn’t help her smile. There was something humorous about his presentation considering the main building looked like it was about to collapse at any moment. A simple push against the southwest corner ought to do it, she thought. She stepped back, folding her arms across her belly, looking up the tavern. For all of it’s cracks and wears, Ayla found Witchwicks to be charming in it’s own right. Even as they stood outside of the tavern, surrounded by a foggy haze, a certain warmth emitted from those mossy stones. No matter how vicious besieging shadows tried, nothing seemed to extinguish its light.

  “I think I’ll love it here,” she said.

  Fraz nodded, “Yeah? This about you wanting a certain employer who doesn’t ask too many questions?”

  Ayla felt her gut tense, but she didn’t want to be evasive. “Yeah. I’m very grateful. Thank you for letting me stay and work here. My story isn’t so funny, but I’ll tell you later.”

  Fraz waved her off, “Keep it to yourself, Ayla. I’m not pryin’. I could give a shit. I figure you need a place to lie low for a while. This is the perfect spot for that. Those heist papers you found ought to prove that. People of all walks of life come here to take the sketchy jobs, hide from the law, enjoy the pleasures of the local succubus, whatever. But…” his voice drifted as he gazed into the fog. “You’ll also find the kindest warriors, the bravest knights, and some of the smartest dwarven engineers I’ve ever met - and I’ve been places. Witchwicks attracts all types, villains and heroes alike. Everyone is welcome, even if it gets a little chaotic sometimes.”

  “Like the bar fight last night?”

  “Exactly, but no one died. In fact, they made up and one of them ended up taking a job. Something magical about this place. Sure gets a little crazy, but everyone walks away happy.”

  “Except for the succubus upstairs?”

  Fraz shrugged, “She ain’t left yet, has she?”

  That was true. Ayla followed Fraz inside. He nodded towards the kitchen.

  “Plenty of eggs and fruit and whatever in there, so make yourself some breakfast. People won’t start showing up until about dinner time, it’ll just be the crew until then. You might see Tess wander on in later. She’s a late sleeper. She’s friends with Scarlet so don’t mind her if she’s a little sore about you taking the job. Gabby, our wizard in the kitchen, should be here soon. She’s got a wicked bite, so be careful.”

  “A bite?”

  “She’s a naga. Half snake, half person. Fast too.”

  “I’ve never seen that before. Of course, I’d never seen a succubus either.”

  “Yeah, working here will introduce you to all types, believe me. Anyway, most of the work is done. There’s a drawer behind the counter there,” pointed Fraz. Ayla opened it up as he continued, “That’s where you’ll find the money. Paper slips too. You can write on those when people give you their order. Stuff those in your apron. Last thing that really needs doing is the one of the barrels in the kitchen needs switching out. You’ll find a hand cart in the cellar. Think you can lift one of them up the stairs?”

  “How heavy are they?” she asked, stuffing paper and pencils in her apron pocket.

  “Pretty heavy. Hundred and fifty pounds or so.”

  “Uh, maybe…”

  “Wait for Tess then. Gabby ain’t gonna help you. She’s got too much on her plate today.”

  Ayla nodded, putting her hands on her waist. “No problem.”

  “Alright,” Fraz marched over to the southeast corner of the tavern and opened a cabinet door using a tiny key. The hinges creaked when he pulled it open. He hung his apron inside and pulled out a brown, ragged cloak. He tied it around his neck. He reached in and pulled out small bag that jingled with coin. He stuffed it into a pocket on the inside of his cloak.

  “Back in a couple of hours. That barrel you’re gonna change out is the last one, so I’m heading out to make sure our shipment runs on time. Should be here tonight, but you never know. Some folks say one thing, and another happens.”

  Ayla knew that better than anyone. “I’ll see you this afternoon, then.”

  Fraz waved lazily and limped out of the tavern.