It took an indeterminate amount of time for the group to travel away of the Bayview Inn and on to the mining town of Praldosta. Not because the travel time was actually affected by anything other than Beltayne’s natural inclination to just…not pay attention to trivial things like the passage of time.
He did, however, spend the time bouncing between conversations with the group.
“Great Magnar, you are of dwarven lineage, are you not?”
“D’ya just now figure that out for yerself? And here I thought elves were supposed to be clever.”
“Indeed, we are known for our quick-witted and tactical minds,” Beltayne mused, entirely missing Magnar’s sarcasm. “But I wonder at your mind. Dwarves are natural miners, and we appear to be heading to a mine. This appears to be sliding decidedly into your glacial cavern, as wisemen are oft want to say.”
“Who’s slidin’ what into my cavern?!” roared Magnar, taken aback by the turn of phrase.
“Calm my brother, the elf was surely using a euphemism from his homeland. I believe he implies simply that this coming environ may play to our strengths,” stated Magnus, speaking evenly and placing a large dwarven mitt on Magnar’s shoulder.
“Hmph. Better have been. I leave the planning’ to my brother. Because I have nae doubt that his plan will eventually collapse and I’ll get to smash somethin’ hard.
“…Anyways, while my brother no doubt thinks that the quickest way through a door is to bash it open, occasionally a gentle knock, gentler word, and a bit of touch works wonders,” added Magnus, as he twisted fingers in a pattern unrecognizable to Beltayne, but nonetheless conjured a thin line of purple flames shooting up from the tip of the finger.
“Quite right,” affirmed Kel’dhos. “Perhaps the subtle approach would serve us well. For a change. You know, Sioch tells us…”
“Who blastin’ cares what gods are or aren’t sayin to you weird book learners?” interrupted Magnar. “We’re here to do a job, and by stones we’ll get it done. Probably with a healthy dose of me hittin’ people that don’t wanna get hit.”
In between Magnus and Kel’dhos suddenly appeared a very wide-eyed and alert Val.
“Hold now, are you guys also conversing with the gods too?! I just recently learned a great recipe for a healing berry concoction from a wily tree goddess, and I was just the other day speaking with a squirrel, who assured me that he was a god…”
“What my cousin means,” hissed Telerek from behind her, “is that we are a remarkably well-balanced group, especially for one that came together more or less by happenstance.”
“Too true. We are the stuff of which legends will be told and ballads will be sung. Perhaps we can commission Kel’dhos’ young lady to write of us as we pass this way again on the way back,” Beltayne agreed, slapping the half-elf’s back. Beltayne could have sworn he saw the stunted tips of Kel’s ears even begin to redden.
After…however many days it took…the group arrived in the town-proper of Praldosta. The mine itself was still further on the outskirts, but it was determined to meet with the town official that had been recommended by the Trident Guard.
The streets of Praldosta themselves were significantly less uniform than the paved stone that predominated Ridgeton. Beltayne noted that, by and large, the road was dirt and gravel, and the buildings appeared to confine themselves to single story simple wooden structures, rather than worked stone or intricately embellished wood.
Beltayne was still marveling at the collection of beings walking the streets of Praldosta as he followed the group to the official’s residence, or office, Beltayne wasn’t sure which and perhaps that building served as both. It was wooden, that much he was pretty sure of.
He could not wait to tell Winter’s Bite about this new place, but the blade was safely secured into a scabbard at his hip for now. Kel’dhos believed that people may look askance at a noble elf conversing openly with such a magnificent and magical blade. At least, Bel was pretty sure that was Kel’dhos’ advice.
The Burgomaster, for that was what he called himself, provided Magnus with a map and Kel’dhos with advice, while Beltayne stared out a window onto the street beyond.
“A diverse population can always be found at these backwater towns,” spoke Val from just behind Beltayne. “I too find myself overwhelmed at times.”
“Truly? I just…I see all the different colours and patterns, different heights and different cloaks. Tis enough to inspire envy in even the noblest knight,” responded Beltayne.
“Would you like to…go outside? We can mingle amongst the population and converse with them. I know of no better way to familiarize oneself than by exposure,” Val added. She was no longer facing out the window as Beltayne was, but had half-turned towards him and spoke with a concern Bel rarely noticed from her.
“I appreciate your concern my elven companion, but unfortunately I cannot speak their language as easily as you. Their language escapes me yet. But I promise, by the time I may own one, I will understand.”
“Wait. What?! Beltayne! You may not own anybody! That practice is positively barbaric and disgusting,” Val said with alarm, her face contorted in disgust.
“Val, I too find the process of ownership distasteful. A mount must choose its rider as much as a rider chooses the mount. But society still determines that whatever one rides, be it horse or something else, be purchased and paid for. It is a broken system, to be certain, but the one in which we find ourselves,” Beltayne said, somewhat dejectedly.
“Have you been looking at the horses this whole time?!” asked Val, disbelief clearly playing on her face as her eye began to twitch involuntarily.
“Quite. My status as a knight is beyond rebuke. The Lady herself said it, and thus it is so. But a knight needs a mount. And I am in desperate envy of the plethora laid out before us,” added Beltayne wistfully.
“This is what I get for paying attention to you fools. Squirrels make more sense…” she whispered to herself as she turned away, leaving Beltayne to continue staring out the window.
After Magnus and Kel’dhos had finished their discussion with the Burgomaster, the group stepped outside and regrouped around Magnar, who had apparently also been listening to the advice given.
“If dwarves be workin’ the mines overnight, ye can be sure that there are dwarves getting’ a drink in before the shift starts,” Magnar boasted, squinting up at the just afternoon sun.
“Are you certain it’s not just you who wish a drink Magnar? There are simpler ways to announce the fact than hurt yourself trying to mask it behind reason. We can skip the drink and go straight to the source. Let’s head to the mine and see if they will hire us,” said Magnus, winking dramatically at Magnar.
“So, what you’re sayin’ is that you’d like to skip the drinkin’ and go straight to the workin’? Are you sure we have the same mother, because mine would be ashamed her baby son has gone daft,” Magnar said.
“It’s a good plan. Subterfuge at its finest. Work along side the miners, see what ails them, what scares them…” Telerek said, trailing off dramatically at the end.
“Well, there’s nae reason to be creepy about it ya mad elf, but work is work, and it would do my scrawny brother good to dirty his hands a bit,” said Magnar, suddenly removing the traveling shirt he had been wearing, pulling it off and throwing it at Kel’dhos. “I shall reintroduce him to the original dwarven hammers,” Magnar added while flexing his right arm and squeezing his forearm with his left hand.
“Gods above, this is absolutely going to go up in flames,” said Kel’dhos, throwing Magnar’s dust-ridden tunic back at him.
“Probably so my modestly-lobed comrade. But with you along, at least it will go up in a holy flame eh?” Beltayne said as he smiled at Kel’dhos.
It was generally agreed then that the dwarves would go ahead, together, and appeal to the administrative office at the mine for day work and the rest would travel a decent distance behind. Beltayne wanted to keep the dwarves in sight, and Kel’dhos agreed, adding that Magnar’s propensity towards violent spontaneity could mean they would need assistance at a moment’s notice.
The mine itself lay approximately a mile from the town of Praldosta, just to the north and nestled into the side of a large hillside. A fortified tower, serving both as administrative office and guard tower, sat directly in front of the large opening to the mine itself. The tower appeared to be at least three stories, and Beltayne further noted that it appeared to be the only thing made of stone that they’d seen for days.
Beltayne also saw that the top of the tower was a crenelated parapet, alternating between high and lower stone rectangles and with collections of arrows along the visible wall.
“Decent fortifications for a mine. Do they expect incursions from armies who are in desperate need of…rocks?” Beltayne loudly whispered to Kel’dhos as they watched the brothers approach the stone bridge that led to the tower’s massive primary door.
Kel’dhos hushed the elf and pointed at a copse of trees near the beginning of the stone bridge, where he and Beltayne could watch the brothers and stand ready to aid.
While Val and Telerek meandered just out of sight of the tower, a little over a nearby hill, Bel and Kel crept towards the trees.
“Kel’dhos, if you give me absolute silence, I will be able to read the brothers’ lips and provide us with at least half the conversation,” Beltayne whispered.
“Since when can you read the lips of dwarves, turned sideways, and over a hundred feet away,” Kel’dhos whispered back, incredulous.
“Have no fear, while the reading may not be exact, it will give us enough to grasp a kernel of insight to that which we would otherwise be ignorant.
The pair watched as the dwarves trudged the bridge and then abruptly stop, midway along. Magnar was pointing aggressively at Magnus, who was shaking his head vehemently. All of a sudden Magnus threw up his hands and began removing his robe and shirt, tying it around his waist.
“Magnar believed that the pajamas of Magnus would impede his fighting strength, should the discussion turn to blows,” sagely whispered Beltayne, as Kel’dhos closed his eyes in quiet supplication to whatever god was listening.
Both dwarves, now shirtless and bare chested, strode to the door. Magnar raised a meaty fist and pounded twice upon the great wooden monstrosity. Nothing happened for an inordinate amount of time, and just as the dwarves were beginning to turn back towards the way they had come, a small slitted opening appeared in the door, halfway between the floor and the height of the dwarves.
“Ah yes, the guards have cut a speaking whole into the door, but at the heigh necessary to take out the legs of any adversaries. Clever tacticians, these overseers. Now hush Kel’dhos, and keep a steady eye.”
Magnar had placed both hands on his hips, before raising his hands above his head and flexing. He appeared to gesture with his head towards Magnus, who half-heatedly did the same.
“Magnar has appealed to the ancient dwarven custom of posturing. He is demanding that the dwarves inside honor his clan’s strength, demonstrated by his muscles. Then Magnus offered to brew them a tea of wisdom. Or longevity. It is hard to tell, he does not enunciate when he speaks.”
“Tea? You think Magnus is trying to make them a drink?”
Magnar made a show of bringing out a coin purse and dumping the meager contents into his open palm, while Magnus used both hands to gesture at the speaking-slot.
“Magnar has showed them the blood price that his clan will place on their heads, should they not hire the two, and Magnus is pleading with them to reconsider, for no blood need be shed this night.”
“You understand why none of this makes sense, correct?” added Kel’dhos, more absent mindedly, because Beltayne clearly was not listening but instead squinting intently at the brothers.
All of a sudden, the slot snapped closed with an audible clap, and Magnar kicked the door, shaking a fist at the now-closed hole.
“Ah, negotiations are going well. I believe the dwarves inside have promised to come back with day-laboring contracts, and Magnar is showing them the size of the stones that he will mine, evidenced by the size of his not-insignificant fist.”
“…moron…” an ethereal voice from somewhere below Beltayne murmured.
“What was that Kel’dhos? I heard you not. But it appears the dwarves are coming back! No doubt to tell us the start time of their first night in the mines!”
“I didn’t say anything Beltayne. And they do not look pleased, I have a feeling the conversation did not go quite as positively as you imagined.
As much as it pained Beltayne not to confirm his suspicions immediately, he and Kel’dhos, then Val and Telerek, trailed behind the brothers at discreet distances, to not give the indication that they were together.
The group, in pairs, made their way back to the town of Praldosta and they eventually followed the dwarves into a pub called the Jabbering Kitten, just off the main street. By the time Beltayne and Kel’dhos walked inside, the dwarves both had large mugs in front of them as they were seated in a corner snug. Telerek joined the four at the table and Val went off to sit at the bar, while deftly swiping a pickle off the plate of an unknowing patron’s plate on the way.
“So, tell us friends. What news?” asked Telerek as he steepled his fingers conspiratorially. His hood was up, even though the bar itself was stuffy and warm, with little air moving throughout.
“Well. Shockingly, we’re nae workin’ in that mine,” announced Magnar before draining his entire mug, then slamming it down on the table in apparent frustration.
“What? Did you resort to the blood price? Surely they quaked with fear at the thought of being hunted by your entire clan?” exclaimed Beltayne, half standing out of his seat.
“Blood price, who the devil said anything about a blood price? Nobody is huntin’ anybody you idiot,” Magnar roared at Beltayne, who shrunk back into his chair.
Magnus was staring quizzically at Beltayne, then after glimpsing Kel’dhos’ silent head shake, determined it was pointless to ask.
“We asked for work, they said they weren’t hiring. That was it. Though, truth be told, I’m pretty sure we weren’t speaking to dwarves. The voices were pitched much too high. The grammar was appalling as well, though that is frequently a dwarven trait as my brother demonstrates with frequency,” stated Magnus.
“Huh. Could have sworn there would be more to it than that,” said Kel’dhos, staring intently at Beltayne, who in turn was staring intently at the tops of his own boots.
“Well, the good news is that we planned for this eventuality, did we not?”
“When?!” said both Magnar and Beltayne simultaneously, Beltayne with awe and Magnar with annoyance.
“If you thought that was going to fail, why’dya even have us go up there pretendin? I coulda brought the door down and been done with it,” grumbled Magnar.
“That. That is exactly why we made a backup plan. Kel’dhos and I discussed it at the Burgomaster’s. You were there brother. We’re gonna go around the long and sneaky way. There’s a cavern entrance with a waterway,” explained Magnus.
“A well prepared party is a party in the good graces of Sioch,” added Kel’dhos, glancing sidelong at Beltayne, who was still staring at the ground between his legs.
“You good with the plan Beltayne? Anything you need to add?” said Kel, prodding Beltayne’s armored shoulder.
“Huh? Truly, I am at the service of the group. Where you lead, Kel’dhos, I shall follow,” he said half-heartedly.
Both dwarves had gotten up to retrieve more ales, and Telerek had joined Val at the bar, leaving Kel’dhos and Beltayne at the table alone.
Beltayne, normally so aloof and confident, was awash in insecurity, grasping both knees with his hands and tapping his boot heel repeatedly.
“Kel’dhos. May I confide in you, as an elf-friend?” Beltayne asked solemnly, turning his body to face the half-elf.
“Uh, you remember that I am half elven right? I feel like having an elf as a parent makes me an ‘elf-friend’ by default,” responded Kel’dhos.
“I was wrong. Not just casually wrong, but entirely wrong. But I was so confident that I was correct. What if they had needed assistance? What if my failure allowed them to come to harm,” asked Beltayne, looking at Kel’dhos but seeming to stare through him.
“Are you…just now realizing that you got something wrong? This cannot be the first…never mind. I believe you are perhaps overexaggerating the risks here my friend. Were you willfully putting others in jeopardy?” asked Kel’dhos patiently.
“No! Of course not,” responded Beltayne.
“Okay, then were you unwilling to risk yourself, should your friends call to you?” continued Kel’dhos.
“Never!”
“Perfect. And lastly, you trust in your goddess correct? Are you as strong as she, powerful enough to bring winter’s gale to every corner of creation?” asked Kel’dhos, somewhat dramatically.
“Of course not. I am not all powerful you silly half-elf. Only she alone wields that power. I simply serve,” responded Beltayne, growing more confident as he spoke.
“Grand. Then what is the cornerstone of your issue? That you were bad at reading their lips? I believe I could have told you that. You cannot both admit that you are not all-powerful, then hold yourself responsible for all the could-have-happened or might-have happened scenarios in your head. You must pick. Because we are not gods my friend, we simply do our best, admit our shortcomings, and rely on the good graces of others,” finished Kel’dhos, proud of walking Beltayne through a logical trap.
“Kel’dhos. You are wise beyond your ears. I will endeavor to use you as my example,” Beltayne said as he nodded in understanding.
“You flatter me…” started Kel’dhos, before being interrupted.
“If ever I become overconfident, I shall hold in my mind the image of Kel’dhos, overcoming his half-elven shortcomings to admit his faults, loudly and proudly to the world, and I shall know that if there are some burdens that simply may not be overcome alone,” announced Beltayne, still with confidence returning.
“…Sure. Whatever works then. Let’s do that. Glad to be of assistance friend,” added Kel’dhos a little exasperated.
“Nay, not friend any longer,” said Beltayne, closing his eyes and shaking his head, before snatching Kel’dhos’ left hand off the table with his own left, grabbing him about the wrist.
Quick as a flash, Beltayne drew a stiletto knife from the tip of his boot with his other hand, flipped over Kel’dhos’ hand and slashed the palm, creating a thin bleeding line diagonally from pinky to thumb.
“What in the ever loving hells?!” said a startled Kel’dhos.
Not bothering to answer, Beltayne used the same knife and made a similar slice across his own palm after releasing Kel’dhos’ wrist. Beltayne smashed his hand into Kel’dhos’ before withdrawing it slowly.
“Oh. Is this an elven oath thing from your lands,” asked Kel’dhos, pacified that he understood what had happened.
“Almost…” responded Beltayne, before looking at his bleeding hand, then swiftly drawing it back and slapping Kel’dhos with the bleeding palm, leaving a bloody streak on the side of his face.
“What. The. Blessed. Sioch. Was. That?” asked Kel’dhos, enunciating each word specifically.
“Now, slap me!” insisted Beltayne
All of a sudden a gigantic hand appeared from behind Kel’dhos, rocketing towards Beltayne’s face and connecting at full force with his cheek and knocking Beltayne completely off his chair.
“When a man says ye should hit ‘em, I find it’s always best to be done with it as soon as possible, before he thinks better of it,” said Magnar, now standing beside Kel’dhos and holding the mug he’d retrieved.
Kel’dhos bent down and gently patted Beltayne’s face with his still-bleeding palm, grabbing the elf’s wrist with his other and moving to pull him up.
“Sometimes we fall down, but brother’s will always pick us back up again,” said Kel’dhos.
Eventually it was agreed that the group would sleep the night, reconvene in the morning and get ready for their attempt to access the cavern at the rear of the mine.
As night was beginning to fall on the following day, the group set out towards the mine. But instead of the well worn path to the guard tower, Magnus identified a dirt trail on the map given by the Burgomaster that would lead around to the river behind.
Val, normally so indifferent, perked up at the thought of following a glorified animal track through thick woodland. Taking the lead, she bounded from tree to tree, picking mushrooms as she went and chittering up at the trees.
Magnus and Kel’dhos followed behind, discussing differing schools of magic and the history of enchantments as they arrived in the world. Beltayne thought he overheard something about dragons and ethereal planes, and he made a mental note to ask them to tell him about the dragons. Because that sounded like a story worth hearing.
After about three hours of following Val, they arrived at a large river with a gently flowing current. Magnus explained that the river was almost directly north of the mine, and would eventually flow eastward and empty into a larger body and flow back towards Ridgeton.
Following the river’s gentle flow for only a couple of minutes, a small inlet was revealed that led into a massive open cavern.
“Perfect. Ya bloody idiots found a way into the mine. But unless we’re swimmin’ in armor, it’s be a short swim and a quicker sink,” scoffed Magnar.
“Nonsense friend! Ask the Lady, and she will provide,” said Beltayne, as he moved reeds near the bank and showed a rickety dock and even more ramshackle boat.
“I declare this craft the Frost Maiden’s Ferry, and it shall bear us straight through the mouth of danger,” announced Beltayne, with a gloved fist raised in the air.
“Seems a bit dramatic for a glorified rowboat, but sounds like the elf just volunteered to row, so he can call the thing whatever he wants for all I care,” laughed Magnar.
The craft itself was long and thin, barely accommodating one person per bench and requiring them to sit in a line. The boat had not been well maintained, and Telerek wondered aloud if it had been made from wood that had drifted down the river by happenstance.
After each person had assumed a position, with Val at the prow keeping watch, followed by Magnar, then Kel’dhos, then Magnus, Telerek and finally Beltayne at the rear.
The rowing itself was not particularly exhaustive, and Beltayne offered to sing the group a song of his homeland while he sculled.
“As we infiltrate a mine, in pursuit of slavers who will probable want us dead, perhaps it would be best if we did not announce our presence via singing,” said Telerek, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Contenting himself with humming along with himself alone, Beltayne slowly propelled the boat into the mouth of the cavern, disappearing the group into relative darkness.
The darkness that predominated the cavern was interrupted only by an intermittent sound of crackling, as if the air itself was suddenly heated and then dispersed. Val held up a single hand, indicating that the group should pause.
As the boat glided to a stop, water lapping at the sides, the group paused and listened. The stillness was interrupted suddenly, first by a bolt of lightning from the port side at the waterline, then a roar and a larger wave.
Magnar stood, pointing at the water and shouted, “It’s a great sea beast! To arms lads!”
The creature, a stiffly armored serpent, with a large and flat head and fangs protruding from his lower jaw and framing its pointed snout, was roughly ten feet in length. It had no eyes that Beltayne could see, but when it opened its pointed maw, electricity sizzled from its throat.
In a move quicker than Beltayne would have thought given the beast’s size, its head snapped out of the water and the jaws clamped down on Kel’dhos’ arm. The half-elf shouted and grasped for his weapon, laid at his feet.
Magnus, however, wasted exactly no time and took advantage of the creature’s distraction with an impending snack. Quickly conjuring flames, he placed an outstretched hand practically in the mouth of the monster and flames erupted into its gullet.
A series of small, muffled pops could be heard, coming from the inside of the creature and working down towards the submerged tail. The monster’s jaw slackened, then slid haphazardly back into the water, but leaving one of its fangs entangled in Kel’dhos’ forearm.
“That beast, brother, is called a Pheist, and is particularly susceptible to fire. As I have just demonstrated for you. You are most welcome,” added Magnus, smugly.
All the movement from the Pheist’s sudden attack had irreparably damaged the side of the craft and it started to take on a noticeable list, which resulted in the water periodically splashing over the edge and adding itself to the bottom of the craft.
Beltayne resumed rowing, praying that they would reach the shoreline of the cavern’s beachhead.
…Lady, if perchance this boat were to sink, I do not believe that my armor will float. If you would be so kind as to turn this cavern to ice, I may slide upon my stomach, like a Flightless Horror, to safety…
The shore, thankfully, was just coming into sight and Beltayne rowed the sinking craft onto the beach. As the group piled out, somewhat more damp then they had been before they started, Beltayne laid a palm on the craft and cast a small spell of ice on the wood.
…thank you Maiden, your gift has served us well…
The cavern thinned towards a natural tunnel and the group trudged along the wet sand mixed with stone, seeing refuse of broken cargo boxes and nets strewn about.
No creatures, friend or foe, appeared along the cavern’s winding path but they saw plenty of evidence that creatures had recently inhabited the area.
Lulled into a sense of security by the continuous lack of enemy, Beltayne continued humming along to himself and watching the others in front of him. The tunnel wound its way into a larger cavern opening, with a upward sloping path at the extreme opposite end.
“Shall we rest lads? My hunger is drivin’ somethin’ fierce, I may have to resort to eating one of these pointy eared fools,” said Magnar.
“Oi! Oi! Bads here! Fightem’ now!” screamed a high pitched voice from the upward ramp.
Beltayne looked and was just barely able to see a small goblin, barely two feet in height and with a grey, pallid skin take off running up and out of sight.
“Guess the food will have to wait, I’ve finally got somethin’ that needs smashin’,” said Magnar, as he hefted his maul and took off running after the goblin.
End of Chapter