Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Seven - Dam It All

The cart rattled and bounced across the road. It was too low to the ground to have room for suspension, which really sucked. Every rut and bump in the otherwise decent road made me jump up, and then I crashed back down with a heavy whump.

My bum was going to be so sore.

“So,” I asked. “Where are the mole people living?”

Guard Captain Ward leaned back a bit. “They live underground, usually. Some of their villages are open to the air though. They have walls most of the way around, with nets over the tops of their villages.”

“Nets?” I asked.

Bastion answered that one. “The Sylphfree mountains are home to these vicious creatures called amphipteres.”

“What are those?” I asked.

“They’re long, snakelike creatures with wings. They’re the offspring of a dragon and a non-dragon. Cunning, in their own base way, and aggressive. We fight them off when we can, and destroy their nests whenever possible. They don’t attack sylph as often though,” Bastion said.

“But the mole people don’t like them,” I guessed.

“The issue is that the amphipteres like the mole people. More specifically, the way they taste. Mole people have poor eyesight. They have other senses to make up for it, but they’re vulnerable to attacks from above, and often can’t react to them.”

“And the sylph can?” I asked.

Ward laughed. “We can show those flying snakes what for,” he said. “A few good guards with sharp senses can scare one off easily. A few arrows, a magical attack or two, and they’ll fly off to find easier prey.”

“They’re still dangerous,” Bastion said. “Especially when cornered. They can strike quickly, and some have natural magics to lean upon. Their draconic ancestry means their breath is dangerous. Children have been snatched away in the middle of smaller towns before.”

I gasped, a hand moving over my mouth. “That’s awful!”

Bastion nodded. “It’s why we keep their population low, culling them when we can.”

“They’re not smart?” I asked, just to be sure.

“No smarter than a rabid dog,” Ward said.

Well, I wouldn’t agree with ever hunting down a dog, but I could understand the sylph hunting the amphipteres if they were so dangerous. “So, the mole people live underground to avoid giant sky snakes. I guess that makes sense.”

“It’s more than that,” Bastion said. He paused as we passed over some particularly bumpy bumps. “The mole people have cultural ties to the world, to the underground. They have a few dungeons deep under the earth as well. It’s where they’re meant to be. Having them out on open land or, World forbid, in the air, would be like tossing a dozen sylphs into the ocean and telling them to make do.”

“I think I get it,” I said.

I put my hands down onto the bench and pushed myself up a bit, absorbing some of the bouncing with my arms as I took in the countryside. There were little stands of trees here and there, all clumped up, with craggy, rock-covered spots between them.

Birds flitted between the clumps of forest with eager energy and happy trills, and I even saw a grey fox slinking away in the distance.

The further we journeyed from Granite Springs, the more the woods thickened, though the road stayed the same. A long, straight path, covered in loose white gravel. Soon we were crossing splits in the road that lead to little quarries busy at work.

The road didn’t pass too close to them, I guessed because the walls around the quarry might collapse, and having the road near them would be dangerous. Still, I could make out sylphs, some operating boxy machines, others working to load up carts with big square-cut blocks of what I guessed to be granite.

“So, is that why Granite Springs is called Granite Springs?” I asked.

“It is,” Ward confirmed. “We’re one of the largest producers of rough-hewn stone in the kingdom.”

“Isn’t all of Sylphfree mountainous?”

“It is, but you can’t just dig a quarry anywhere. Not with the risk of landslides and erosion causing trouble in the future,” Ward said. “And the stone from here is quite unique. It has some magical properties that I’m not clever enough to really comment on.”

I nodded. They seemed to care about the environment then, at least a little bit.

We rattled past a cart pulled by two donkeys, loaded up with a few dozen granite blocks. The driver stared at us as we passed, then doffed his big hat when I waved.

“That’s it, up ahead,” Ward said.

I turned on my bench, then put a hand on Bastion’s shoulder for balance as I stood up. The road leading out of the town ran parallel to the river, though not closely. The river wasn’t as straight, and meandered around as it cut through the hilly landscape. We’d even crossed a nice little bridge made of the local stone at some point.

That same river was wider ahead, with a few smaller rivulets flowing into it.

The dam was impossible to miss.

It was a wall of dirt and mud, three times as tall as I was from tippy-toes to ear-tips. The dam was unfinished; it only stretched halfway across the river, with a palisade above it. Not confined to the river, a large part of it was over land, serving as an ordinary wall. It didn’t look like a fortification capable of protecting anything bigger than a village though.

“That’s more impressive than I was expecting,” Bastion said. “They’ve poured a lot of time building that up.”

“We can take it apart in an afternoon, I’m sure,” Captain Ward said. “Packed earth isn’t that strong, and I think all they’ve used for reinforcement are tree trunks.”

“Like a beaver dam,” I said.

Ward nodded. “An order of magnitude larger, but essentially, yes.”

“Captain, stop us a hundred paces from their gate,” Bastion said. “I think we’ll approach with just three of us.”

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“Three will be enough?” Ward asked.

Bastion nodded and stepped off the side of the wagon, his wings beating quick to slow his fall. “Three will be plenty. The goal is to avoid antagonizing them unless we don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“They’re the ones building a dam,” Captain Ward said as he climbed down.

I hopped off and landed with a bounce next to the two sylphs. “Maybe they have a good reason for it?” I asked.

“Like what, starving Granite Springs?” Ward asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I can come up with ideas. Maybe they know there’s going to be a big flood from above and they want to slow it down. Maybe they want to use the dam to make power. Maybe the river needs to be diverted to, uh, save their village or something?”

Ward blinked. “Well, I suppose some of those are possible. If unlikely.”

“As unlikely as otherwise peaceful neighbours building a large dam over a nearby river?” I asked.

Bastion hummed. “Captain Bunch has a point,” he said. “It wouldn’t do to assume the worst without all the facts. So, let’s be cordial and find out what’s going on here.”

The rest of the guards disembarked from the wagon, but they remained where they were. I didn’t envy them if they had to stand around and wait. The sun was nice and cheery above, but it was also warm, and there weren’t too many trees next to the road for cover.

“Stay behind me,” Bastion said as he took the lead.

Captain Ward grabbed a spear handed to him by one of his guards and used it as a walking stick as he walked next to me. He had a small round shield too; a buckler, I think.

“Sir Bastion,” Ward asked as we made our way across the road. There was an entrance in the dam wall, a doorway above a trench with wooden planks held up by ropes. I was pretty sure I could jump the wall though.

“Yes, Captain Ward?”

“I wouldn’t question you before the guards, but is bringing the... civilian wise?”

My ears perked. He was talking about me.

“Broccoli can, surprisingly, hold her own.” Bastion looked back towards me. “Though, Broccoli, if things go bad, do take flight. This isn’t your fight, and I wouldn’t like to see you hurt here.”

“I wouldn’t like to see you hurt either,” I said.

He chuckled. “I can take care of myself.”

He was a pretty good fighter. Probably... definitely the best one aboard the Beaver Cleaver.

“Alright,” I said.

There wasn’t time for more talk. A form shifted above the wall—a shortish brown-furred figure in a long coat with what looked like a gambeson under chainmail. He had a helmet on that looked a bit like a pith hat, and an elongated, pinkish face with beady little eyes.

“Halt!” he called out. His voice was a squeaky thing, high pitched, as if someone was talking with their nose pinched.

Bastion’s boots crunched to a halt, and we stepped behind him. “We’ve halted,” he shouted back.

The mole person on the wall blinked, then squinted. “Oh, yes. Give me a moment!” he said before turning and disappearing out of sight.

“I didn’t understand that last part,” Ward said.

“He asked us to give him a moment,” I said.

Bastion nodded. “Their language isn’t too different from the common tongue. But they have adapted it. Some sounds they can’t pronounce, and they use lots of jargon. I’m certain the captain here could understand them perfectly well, given some time to get used to their accent.”

“It’s a bit squeaky,” I admitted.

“I think it might travel well underground,” Bastion said.

Three mole people appeared on the wall, including the one we saw a moment before. “State your business!” one of them said. His fur was black, and his armour was a lot more intricate. Something resembling full plate, with decorative work on the edges. He was hatless, but he did have a nice capelet.

Bastion cleared his throat. “I am Bastion Coldfront, Royal Paladin of Sylphfree. I am here to speak with whoever is in charge. I come peacefully, with no ill intent.”

The mole person stared at Bastion, and I couldn’t quite read his expression. His pals sniffled at the air, though, but that could have meant anything. “And who’s that with you, paladin?”

“Hi!” I called out with a big wave. “I’m Broccoli Bunch! And I’m looking to make friends and meet cool new people!”

Moley A. Holey

Desired Quality: Someone kind and friendly who likes avoiding beaches and who enjoys deep holes.

Dream: To become the General of the Eastern Garrison.

Holey seemed like a nice enough fellow.

“I am Guard Captain Ward, of Granite Springs,” Ward replied after a moment. I was pretty sure he said that in his own language, but no one seemed to mind.

“And what are two armed sylphs and a... long-eared human doing here?” Holey asked.

“I’m actually a bun,” I corrected. “But I used to be a normal-eared human. Also, I’m not armed! I left my spade back on my ship.”

“We are here to talk,” Bastion said. “Granite Springs is concerned about the construction you have here.”

Holey huffed very mightily. “Then Granite Springs should have answered the letters we sent!” he sniped back.

Bastion turned to Ward. “Did the molefolk send any letters to Granite Springs?” he asked.

“None that I’m aware of,” was the reply. “And if they did, I would know.”

Bastion nodded slowly. “Good sir, I believe we have a lot to discuss. It seems as if communications weren’t terribly clear, leading to... the current situation. Perhaps we could all parley? Preferably peacefully?”

Holey eyed us all for a moment, then nodded. “Lower the gate!” he called out over his shoulder. “You three may enter. But no funny business!”

“Well then,” I said. “Let’s go have a chat!”

***