They passed Kendell one more time as they headed to the library. She was still making notes and filling pages.

As soon as he and Earcellwen entered the library, Joe’s sense of smell was hammered with the fetid fumes of brimstone again. The demonic Vexor was sitting at a table in the middle of the library, reading a hefty tome. Instinctively Joe clapped a hand over his nose and his feet missed a step. RC noticed his discomfort immediately. Perception was the wildbow’s highest attribute after all. What was mind-boggling to Joe was how could someone with such a high Perception not be reacting to that god-awful stench.

“You ok?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“There must be something here in the room setting my scent ability off,” He white-lied, not wanting to actually have to say the portal-specialist stank to high heaven. “Give me a second. I should be able to get used to it in a minute.”

Earcellwen gave him a sideways look but shrugged and headed over to the same shelf Kendall had used. This section of materials focused on the region and local history. She grabbed a map and two books before looking toward the top shelf.

“Really,” she huffed. “Joe, see the brown leather volume with gold letters there on the top shelf.” She pointed upwards. Even though there were tons of brown books with gold lettering, it was easy to tell the one she was referring to as none of its neighbors happened to match that description. Joe had his force hand snag the book and hand it to her.

“Thanks. Let’s start with these. These are all about the mine expansion. Not long after Fort Coral was founded a band of dwarves came north from the Malrenet Mountains and set up a quarry and mine on Mount Serebuk. Most of the stone this town is built from came out of the Serebuk Quarry.”

“So you are thinking that there should be some reference to the valley in them. I thought all the writing was elvish, not dwarven.”

“Technically the language is known as Woad. It is the shared tongue of the elves, the fey, and a few other woodland races. Even so, I know what you mean. I don’t think the dwarves erected the stones. I was thinking we could use these,” she stated, gesturing to the reference materials, “to figure out if the menhirs are older than the Serebuk Mines or newer. It’s a place to start.”

Earcellwen reached out and plucked one more book from a low shelf before passing it to him. “You should start with that one.”

“Got it,” he replied absently. He was more worried about where they would end up sitting than the book. He could not stay near the cambion scholar. Joe steered her towards the table furthest from the studying mage. He could tell that she would have preferred a table in the middle of the room where the lighting was better but she followed him to the spot he chose. The sulfurous wafts still found their way over to that far corner but it was at least bearable for Joe’s hyperactive sense of smell.

The textbook in Joe’s hands was essentially a school book for children, detailing the early days of Fort Coral. He raised an eyebrow at his new friend for the choice but he understood why it made sense. Joe had to get a basic understanding of the region before he could help with the research.

The first part of the volume was all about the founders. The four heroes had come from the land of Glandrion far to the west. In time, the independent adventurers grew to become leaders among the western tribes. Margen led the armies. Tintze oversaw commerce. Jequa marshaled the mages, while Mira watched the stars and guided the people to prosperity.

One night Mira saw a star fall from through the black sky and received the strongest vision of her entire life. She saw great evil and darkness coming to the lands of Glandrion. She saw the waves of risen dead and necromancy that would scourge everything west of the Baerrok Peaks. The only hope her people had was to escape to the east. She saw a place this growing evil would not reach. One place she was sure they would not only be safe from the coming calamity but have a chance to thrive.

So respected were her divination talents, that none questioned her. Whole villages followed Mira and her companions over the mountains and through the eastern fey forests. Many were lost on the journey. More than Mira ever expected. By the time they reached the far coast, they were only a fraction of those who had begun the journey. The diminished Glandrions set to work building a small walled hamlet that would one day grow to become Fort Coral.

Mira’s vision turned out to be correct. Less than a decade later, the greatest necromancer Illuminaria has ever known conquered all of their old homeland. Taking a name from his art, the dark-mage Necronias wiped almost every living thing from the land. Glandrion was no more. Now, it is known as Blackfell, a place of such dire renown that only the most powerful or foolhardy dare enter its borders.

Yet even with all the death behind them, the escapees flourished in their new home. The abundance of the site surpassed their best hopes. It had access to the ocean and fertile lands for farming. The neighboring forests could be carefully lumbered once accommodations had been reached with the fey and elves. There were even mountains nearby able to supply iron and stone and, in later years, gold and silver.

For decades they knew unbridled prosperity. The only great tragedy of those early years was the loss of one of the first founders, Margen. Intrigued, Joe flipped ahead a few chapters to read about the warrior’s story.

He found the section and read of one small area of land a few days' journey from the growing town that Mira could not scry into. This valley lay at the foot of Mount Serebuk. It was an unwholesome place, shunned by the settlers and the fey alike. The hollow was known as ‘Glen Cumha’ which meant ‘Vale of Lament’.

Margen and Tinzte went to explore the valley to understand why the seer was blind to what went on there. Only Tinzte returned and he could not recall how he had escaped nor how his boon companion had been lost. The valley was renamed by settlers, becoming ‘Margen’s Mourn’. In deference to the hero, the valley was shunned by the villagers. The town and surrounding farms were erected away from Mount Serebuk. Even the eventual quarry and mines were situated on the other side of the mountain from the valley.

Joe sat up in his seat. Could his children’s book really have the answer? Joe flipped through the rest of the book and there was nothing more. He reached over and grabbed the larger tome Earcellwen was not reading and turned to the index. There was no listing for ‘Glen Cumha’ or ‘Margent’s Mourn’. It was as if the town had written away the tragedy.

He sat back in his seat, digesting this small nugget. It might be a story that was so familiar to the locals that it had passed right by Earcellwen without her realizing what she knew. That spot of land seemed to have been collectively ignored ever since. Whether it was something magical or grief for their lost hero, Joe didn’t know. He was sure that it had to be the same valley.

He looked around to see if the guild library had a card-catalog case like the old town library he had grown up with. Sure enough right in the center of the room was a low wide case with dozens of small drawers. Unfortunately, it was right next to the table the horned Vexor was working at.

Grumbling to himself, Joe took a deep breath and strode quickly up to the case. The closer he got, even holding his breath, the stronger the hellish aroma became.

Joe tried to ignore the vile stench while he worked to figure out how the cards were indexed. Unfortunately, his eyes were watering so fiercely that he could barely see straight. Accidentally, he hooked a claw through a half a dozen cards, ripping them from the long thin drawer.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

He was trying to put them back when a hand grabbed his upper arm and spun him around. Earcellwen was staring at him dumbfounded.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

Joe wanted to reply but the thought of opening his mouth and letting that demonic reek into his mouth was intolerable. The elf pulled and Joe let her drag him out of the room. As soon as they hit the lobby, he gasped for air.

“What in the inferno has gotten into you, Joe,” RC barked. “Are you ok?”

Kendell was there a second later. “What happened?” Joe saw the concern on her face and the confused shrug from Earcellwen. Joe was about to explain when the reek redoubled and swamped him once more.

“Is he alright?” asked a congenial voice attached to a miasma of burnt tar and rotting eggs.

Joe tried to speak but all that came out of his mouth was “I can’t.”

Dashing out the main door and onto the avenue in front of the guildhouse, he scrubbed at his nose, knocking the cards off his claws to flutter away. He knew he had been rude even though he was trying his best not to be. That stench was just too much. There clearly was a reason it was tied to hell and damnation. Joe could handle most stuff people found awful. He had cleaned kennels, suffered through every one of his own bodily fluids, even helped his local vet with a few gruesome cases. Yet that smell was beyond him.

The door opened and Earcellwen stepped out. Thankfully all three of them did not come after him.

“Explain, Joe,” she demanded, with a sharp tone. “You are freaking everybody out. What the Abyss is wrong with you?”

“The Abyss. The Abyss itself. That is what you call Hell right?” he stammered, stepping on one of the escaping index cards.

Throwing her hands up over her head, she retorted with an even more annoyed voice. “How would I know what we call something from your world, Joe?”

“I’m really sorry. The brimstone smell. It drives my scent ability insane. I know Vexor is your friend so I was trying not to be a jerk. I know I failed miserably but I really didn’t mean to.” Finally able to take normal breaths he reached down and grabbed two of the punctured cards. He snorted, knocking out much of the lingering smell trapped in his nostrils.

“It can’t be that bad. I mean, my Perception is excellent and I barely notice it. It’s there, but it’s not that strong.”

“I don’t think it’s the strength of the smell but what the smell is that is killing me. I walked past an incense shop yesterday and the scents coming out there were so strong I was sneezing for the next fifteen minutes. Vexor is not nearly that strong but a thousand times worse.”

The elf sighed. “OK wait here. Let me see what I can do to fix this.”

“But I found a clue about the valley,” he called to her back as she reached for the door.

The wildbow spun around. “Really?” He was about to reply, but RC held up a hand, palm toward Joe. “No. Wait. Hold that thought. Let’s get one thing resolved before we go to the next thing. My dad always says “A cook can craft one fine meal or burn two.’ Let’s solve your Vexor problem and then you can tell me.”

The elf opened the door and called, “Be right back,” over her shoulder as she left the street.

When she was gone, Joe chased down the four remaining cards. They were looking fairly worse for wear but at least if he turned them over to someone, they could be recopied instead of someone having to try and track down the information. Trying to not feel like a lunatic, he sat down on the edge of a planter filled with a selection of small bright flowers that was situated across the street from the Adventurers Guild. When he heard a door open and closed, Joe looked up to see Kendell walking over to him. She sat right alongside him on the rim of the planter.

“You ok? You look really down.”

“I feel like an ass. I mean, I’ve only had this sense of smell for a few weeks so that could be part of it. Maybe I’ll get better control in time. Still, I lost it back there. There is just something about Vexor I can’t handle. I was on a cramped ship with forty people, for three weeks. I could easily block out people’s stinks then. Well, there was this one guy … him I had to avoid, but everyone did. I don’t think he ever bathed.”

“Vexor better or worse than stinky guy?” she asked.

“A hundred times worse. I cannot even think around the mage. It’s like my whole body goes into flight or fight mode. So far flight has been the option but I can feel this hostility building in there too.” Joe dropped his head down to his chest, placing his hand on top of his skull. The cave of his arms he formed around his head sheltered him from some of the embarrassment he was feeling. “I know it’s not his fault. He was born with that lineage. Maybe I just should move myself to the study. Solve the problem that way.”

Placing her hand on his, Kenda pushed them away causing him to look up at her. She was so close he could not help but straighten up his slumped posture. When his eyes met hers, she smiled. “If I know Earcellwen, then running away is not an option. We’ll come up with a solution. Trust me.”

Not knowing what else to say Joe just sat there with her for a few minutes. Suddenly he realized Kendell had not let go of one of his hands. He was even more surprised at how comfortable he was with the touch. Her hand was warm and Joe could think of nowhere he’d rather be at that moment. He kind of wished his hand was not such a feral nightmare but he pushed that thought away. He enjoyed the comfort the gesture implied. If maybe it had a romantic undertone to it as well, then Joe was looking forward to finding that out for sure someday, hopefully soon.

The pair sat together for a while talking about the upcoming festival and Joe looking for a place to rent, with Kendell giving him a few suggestions and being excited for the festival itself, if not also for the work rush at home to finish.

Finally, Earcellwen opened the door and looked across the street to them. It was clear when her sharp eyes noted the clasped hands. The corners of her mouth quirked up into a smug smile as if she had just won a bet. RC signaled for them to come back inside.

The pair crossed the lane with hands still clasped together but they let go to cross the Guildhouse threshold. As he entered the lobby, the first thing Joe saw was Vexor standing a few feet in front of him. He froze. Joe was about to hold his breath when he realized there was none of the brimstone reek filling the air. He also noted the room was very brightly lit.

He looked over to see Myllo holding a small but blazingly bright candle. It was glaring enough that Joe could only glance at it. Looking straight at the brilliant flame was like staring at one of those superpower flashlights.

Kenda too was shielding her eyes. “What is that, Myllo?”

“[Candle of Sacred Flame],” the korrigan explained enthusiastically. “They use these babies in high-level holy ceremonies. Right now this little guy is kicking out so much sacred radiance it is completely wiping out the faint emanations from our half-fiend friend here. You still feeling fine there, Vex?”

“Yup. Other than the eye strain that thing is giving me, I’m good,” the red-skinned mage replied using one hand to shield his face.

Vexor’s voice just did not fit the demonic form standing a few feet away. Joe assumed the horned man’s voice would be some dark, deep, scratchy-sounding thing but it wasn’t like that at all. Instead, the young man’s words sounded like they belonged to an amiable neighbor or classmate friend from school. Just an average everyday nice guy voice.

“Problem solved,” RC exclaimed. “Now what is this about figuring out a clue about the undead surge in the West Woods.”

Myllo and Kendell locked eyes at those words and mouthed ‘undead surge?’ to each other.

Feeling completely put on the spot, Joe cleared his throat before replying. “I think the valley we were at is where the founder Margen died.”

At his declaration, the group exploded into questions for Joe and Earcellwen. After a chaotically unproductive minute, Myllo took charge and herded the group into the library. He situated everyone at one of the long tables, suddenly seeming to be taller than had been a minute ago.

“No more questions,” the artificer pronounced. Pointing at Joe and RC, he continued, “Ok, you two. Start at the beginning. Just make sure we cover ‘undead surge’ before you stop talking. Go.”