Malcolm

  That first night we spent with the dwarves wasn't that bad, actually, for a time I was even able to forget my sorrow, well, the madness was still there of course, and the great serpent was ever the dark passenger squeezing my heart and biting away at my soul - but gods did it feel nice to escape for a while. Oh but why me, you might ask? Why should I, the sad clown, the morose bard, be the one to expostulate upon the merry-making of the dwarves as they showed us such hospitality? Naturally, dear reader, because I am a veritable fountain of knowledge and can provide so much cultural context thanks to my studies.

  The first thing that happened when we went to the Hungry Boar was we were, all of us, bracketed by barmaidens carrying beers - the first one is free, you see - and escorted to our tables. Dwarven ale has a higher alcohol content than ordinary ale because they developed a unique robust yeast that takes a fair bit longer to die than your standard yeast - they also have a tendency to add various botanicals to their beers because why would they not? The mountains that dwarves tend to inhabit are full of various plants perfect for flavoring.

  In fact, the dwarves of this hold specifically were known for their brandy and botanical liqueurs - especially that delightful cordial made from anise and wormwood; I believe it translates to "absinthe" in Victor's tongue, and there is another concoction of theirs that he compared to something he called, hunt-master or something, no matter. It tasted like black licorice and, oh my, Victor had two shots of it in a row. Princess Illiana liked it too, ah, nope, she’s pretending for Victor’s sake.

  Victor made no secret about how magnificent he found the fare - yes, we spared no expense in our feasting that night. Naturally, we adventurers have coin to spare and what better way to spend it than on food, Victor said. I agreed with him, of course, but most adventurers would say he was crazy I warranted. Oh sure, a new magic sword or a magic belt that made one as strong as a giant, those were nice to have, but Victor had other priorities - he had spoken romantically of a slow life, owning a farm or a ranch of some sort.

  I can't say that sounded like a terrible way to live, no, it sounded nice - but, was it for me? Ha, I say that but I don't even rightfully know who I am anymore. To think that her highness' sister, also her highness for obvious reasons, was one of gran-gran's students the whole time. Princess Sylfaena…I’d spent the days since the demise of my former tormentor ruminating on how best to introduce myself to her but then when I saw her my words failed me and only tears came out. The poor dear embraced me back at the inn and then we cried together - I suppose even elves aren't immune to bursts of emotion.

  But let me pre-empt the obvious questions: I have no designs on her. Princess Sylfaena is the favorite student of my dear grandmother which practically makes her my sister. As a matter of fact I've no desire to pursue the incomparable Lady Nenewyn, nor anyone else for that matter.

  It isn't that I don't find women attractive, mind you, my heart just isn't in it as it were. I had tried in the past to find comfort twixt the thighs of harlots and fellow adventurers, but, my mind was so numb that my body could ill move the way it needed. Poor Meli. She'd come onto me, you know. I had to politely decline. Of course, she's a very attractive girl, but, even if I indulged her and took her to my bedchamber I would have been useless. She'd be disappointed, and I'd feel terrible about it. Mechanically there's nothing wrong with me, but the whole experience would have felt cold and lifeless. To satisfy a woman, a man must needs have a desire to put in the effort - and, well, in my present state I felt that I couldn't muster nearly the amount of passion required.

  Buuuut speaking of satisfaction: let us talk about the sorts of food on offer that night! That’s right, though their flavors are muted upon my tongue I can still judge a good meal objectively and the reactions of my companions puts proof to my analysis!

  The dwarves had something they called a shepherd's pie - it was they, you see, that cultivated potatoes on this continent, and figured out that if you mash them they become a fluffy treat.

  Oh then there's haggis - not their own invention, but rather something they borrowed from the human folk in the nearby valleys. Their version used a unique blend of herbs, plus a touch of dwarven ale for a little kick.

  Princess Illiana had no idea that the roots found in the barrel we'd seized from the Black Order was the same plant more or less - yes, she'd had this dish before, and Prince Valyrian had eaten two of them on his own. Then there was the goat stew, thick and hearty with various vegetables floating within - ah yes the black pepper too quite tasty.

  The need to escape my own pain may be why I snack so much, or perhaps it is because I perform so many acrobatic feats that I need more food - I’d been thinking about that a great deal, actually. Many have commented upon the size of the morsels I am capable of swallowing; well, that part actually started as part of my bit for “haha” but over time it became a ha-bit.

  Everyone’s a critic.

  Ah, no matter. Everyone got a little bit drunk that night, and it fell to both Victor and I to make sure everyone got tucked in. Gah! I almost got strangled when Sylfie mistook me for a stuffed animal. Once Princess Illiana was laid down beside her she found a new target and I was released from having my brains cuddled out.

  That night I had a dream. The same as before, but this time I actually remembered more details. There was gran-gran, dying from a plague, thrusting out her hand to stop me when I tried to ask her for a hug. Yes, my parents may have been corrupt but I still loved them and depended on them being only a child. I hadn't expected to see her, no, not at all, yet there she was. I needed human warmth at that moment and was left cold instead. Perhaps she didn't want to get her bile on me, as she was covered in blood and other things, that may have been it.

  Or did she think that I would try to use such rudimentary magic as I'd learned to try and…no…that's exactly it. The spell for cleaning clothes, she may have feared I'd try to use it on her, and thus become infected. Gran-gran's ears twitched in joy when she saw me, and she knelt; her lips moved but I still couldn't hear the words. Everything was still shrouded in a thick fog. Then she vanished again and-

  Gah!

  Waking up startled, I felt weight on me, oh, just a cat - fine, you can stay there.

  Illiana

  Not much had changed since the last time I’d visited Daz Grund, after all it had only been about two-score years. Which was well, since I took it upon myself to give Sir Victor and Malcolm a tour of the city. The night previous I’d let myself go a little overboard with the drinks and wound up entangled with Sylfaena the next morning with a bitter hangover; thankfully I am more than capable of cleansing myself of such an ailment. As usual Sir Victor proved himself impervious to the condition - how does he do that? Oh well, another of Elianora’s mysteries I suppose.

  “Gentlemen,” I declared proudly, “It is my distinct pleasure to serve as your tour guide on your visit to Daz Grund today!”

  Sir Victor laughed, “You’re really getting into this, huh? All right, where to first?”

  “I’m glad you asked!”

  Our first stop was the armory which was above the city gate, level with the second stratum. Whereas the floors below the surface were called deeps, those built higher up into the mountains were called strata. After a short climb we found ourselves in a large hallway built

  Sir Victor whistled, “Wow, I can’t see any seams anywhere. Don’t tell me this was built right into the mountain…”

  Malcolm said, “If she did she’d be lying, old boy! The gate was meticulously crafted over the course of many long lives of men.” He bowed, “Oh, sorry your highness.”

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

  I shook my head, “Pray, don’t hold back especially if I err in my historical facts”, I coughed and began to recite what I knew, “As you can see, from here one can look straight down upon the gates and fire weapons upon any hostile forces. If we go over towards those windows, we can see where we hitched up the Cadillac through the murder holes. This armory runs the entire length and breadth of the passage leading to the market district.”

  “Don’t that just beat all…”

  Sir Victor was wearing a face of wonder. He had a lot more technical questions about dwarven construction, weapons, and tactics but I had no answers - I only knew what I learned on my last tour with Big Brother. But he told me not to sweat it, odd idiom, because he could just read about them later. I was, however, able to explain the gates:

  “These were wrought of adamantium - ‘tis the densest and heaviest metal and only the dwarves know how to work with it; in fact they alone can withstand the pressure in the depths from which ‘tis extracted. The gate, when closed, is nigh impenetrable - it has even proven effective against dragon attacks.”

  Sir Victor’s eyes widened, “Dragonproof even? That’s amazing! All right, where to next?”

  “Follow me!” I said.

  Our second stop was the large fountain at the center of the market district, the one we’d passed through briefly on our way to Flinty’s workshop the day before. It was a white stone octagon with a large sculpture of a sledgehammer. Crystal clear water poured out of faces decorating the cheeks of the hammer.

  “All right, Sir Victor, I want you to guess how they get water into this fountain!”

  He considered for a moment and said, “Water magic?”

  “Incorrect!” I said, and did a little curtsy. “The water is actually pumped from a lake high up in the peaks. Daz Grund has an extensive water delivery system that supplies the city with plentiful drinking water.”

  “Huh, so they have some understanding of hydrodynamics and negative pressure and stuff of that nature. They ever build artificial waterfalls or anything of that nature?”

  I let Malcolm answer this one, “The ill-fated Dar Mach-” He paused abruptly, oh, Victor was doing that thing again, until Malcolm coughed. “Dar Mach, which is presently solely occupied by an ornery red dragon, has a tremendous cascading waterfall that runs through the hold itself; you see, they redirected an above-ground river to go underground only to have it come right out of their own gates!”

  “Well shoot,” I said, “Hey princess if we ever get tough enough to take on a dragon-”

  I didn’t even let him finish the question. “Yes! We should go!”

  I think he was more excited by the prospect of seeing those waterfalls than fighting the dragon, haha.

  “Ugh, hie thyselves to a bedchamber already,” said Malcolm.

  Gah! Oh Malcolm, really!

  Meli

  Howdy y’all it’s ya girl Meli Karga! I’m on another journey to foreign parts, this time I’m in one of the dwarf holds. But this ain’t just for pleasure, sug, I’m on assignment! I don’t rightfully know about all this talk o’ demons and cultists but I do know that I wanna help ‘Liana and Mister K cuz they's been good pals to me. I ain’t much for adventurin’ and the thought of seein’ a monster makes me wanna hide under the bed but lemme logic it up fer ya: If Mister K can drive his Caddy more he can fight more of ‘em evil types and if my pattern magic can help then I’d best hop to it, ya hear? Mister K seems to reckon pattern magic is mighty powerful, a fair shake more than anyone reckons - oh I’m tinglin all over thinkin’ about the possibilities, sug! I ain’t doin’ it alone though, them two new purdy elf ladies what showed ups are also gonna be there; one of ‘em is ‘Liana’s big sis but she’s a mite shorter than ‘Liana, an’ the other one’s some sorta high rankin’ court member or summat.

  Which o’course brings me to the main subject. At the moment I was out fer drinks with both of ‘em, as they’d invited me fer gettin’ te know each other afore we started workin’ together - aw shucks they beat me to the punch, as I were fixin’ to ask ‘em mahself! Oh sure we’d all had dinner the night previous but this is different - ladies only! So there we was at a somewhat dark and quiet tavern just the three of us enjoyin’ pipin’ hot mugs-a spiced cider…stronger stuff than it looks I can tell ya!

  “Are we gonna get ‘Liana in on this too?” I’d asked.

  Miss ‘Faena shook her head and said, “Nay. The more time she spends with Victor the better.”

  Miss Nene nodded, her eyes was shut and she took a dainty sip of her cider. Ah I reckon I understood what were goin’ on here.

  “I see! Yer hopin’ they’s gonna get with the babymakin’!”

  They both spat out their drinks. Oops.

  Miss ‘Faena wiped her mouth all proper-like and said, “All I will say on this matter is that I wouldn’t mind having Victor as a brother.”

  Miss Nene smiled, “Valyrian told me much the same, actually.”

  Miss ‘Faena groaned, “Wonderful, having more in common with him is just what I needed.” She smiled. “But I’m glad we’re of one mind on this matter. After speaking with her, ‘Tis plain to me that she doesn’t know her own heart.” She lowered her head. “If she does have latent feelings for him, I can only pray that she…”

  Miss ‘Faena had some deep sorrow in her eyes - oh ya poor dear I just wanna give y’all a big squeezie! Oh, judgin’ by Miss Nene’s reaction she knows something I don’t. This must be some deep Miss ‘Faena lore, innit? I won’t pry; I seen a face like hers before, yeah, that’s a face that done seen some kinna heartbreak.

  “Well,” she said, “I may also be reading too much into it. Sorry. Miss Karga, why don’t you tell me how you and the others became acquainted.”

  I related the story of how the two of them walked into my store one day, which y’all oughta recollect from the last time I told ya. When I started yappin’ about Mister K’s smarty-phone Miss ‘Faena’s eyes sparkled a mite; oh that’s the cutest thang! I also told ‘em about the queen’s ball, my failed attempt at romancin’ the Duke, and how I took Mal on a shopping trip…

  “...and that’s the gist of it!” I smiled towards Miss ‘Faena. “What about y’all? Apart from knowin’ that yer ‘Liana’s sis I know almost nothin!”

  We was pretty deep into our drinks by the time I was done, and I was feelin’ loopy as an uplands marmot.

  Miss ‘Faena said, “I’ve two main connections to them - the less obvious of which is Malcolm. I’ve come to learn that he, Nenewyn, and I have a shared history. His grandmother, my master, died in the Spellscourge-”

  I stood up and cried “Y-y’all was involved in all that?”

  I may be a country bun-kin from the sticks but even I’d heard about that bad business! Why hell, sug, that tragical event done rocked the entire magic-user community and all - I reckon it was Mister Broderbund the court mage what first told me about it whenever he came to get his robes redone. I sat back down and composed myself.

  Miss ‘Faena nodded. “Aye. Nenewyn and I were actually present for it.”

  “Great beast amussy, how did y’all escape that?”

  She smiled, and turned her eyes upon Miss Nene, “I had my best friend with me. No matter how hard it got, nothing broke her - she was always so cool and put-together, so much so that it inspired me to never give up hope. It was thanks to her strength that I’m still here.”

  Surprisingly, Miss Nene gave a startle, “Huh? B-but Sylfie…I thought…the only reason that I kept a cool head was because you were always smiling hopefully. Your cheerful demeanor and cute smile saved me back then, surely!”

  “Wha - Nenewyn, I was only able to keep smiling because of you…”

  Miss ‘Faena blinked, Nene blinked right back at her. Where’s a tumbleweed when y’all need one, that woulda been a perfect time for one to roll by, kno’ whatta mean? Then they hugged hard, tearing up a bit - oh sugs, me too.

  “I’m sorry, Nenewyn, I never thanked you properly.”

  “Nay, princess, ‘tis I who bear the blame.”

  Well I’ll be - guess they never knew that they done saved each other!

  The night was still young and so we went around town tryin’ different places, but that’s where my memory starts gettin’ a mite hazy. I recollect us singing together in one tavern, arm in arm, while tryin’ some mighty tasty lager. Then we was watchin’ a charmin’ dance of fire and wind on a stage. Next thing I knew I was splayed out on some sorta circular force manifestation - I reckon I was wakin’ up from havin’ passed out. Oh I get it, the disc was floatin’ a few feet off the ground and Miss Nene was draggin’ me behind her with chains o’ force while carryin Miss ‘Faena piggyback.

  “Hey, hey,” said Miss ‘Faena sleepily. “I meant what I said earlier. You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

  “You…you’re mine too, Sylfie. But I do not fancy women in that particular way.”

  “Me neither! Gah, you know fully well what I meant, get your mind outta the gutter!” She giggled, “Oh, you’re making fun of me because I’m drunk. Meanie.”

  “That I can’t deny. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t needle you every once in a while?”

  I reckon I started to pass out again, whoopsie…Nighty night, sugs!