Marina stood as a goblin and Teleri stood as a spider. It was bizarre for Marina as she looked at her wrinkled, almost clawed hands. She felt a pang of disgust at her current form, but was overcome with an even greater disgust when she looked at the eight-legged Teleri.
The Alaurian was highly distressed, finding herself not only in a different body, but with an inability to control her legs. She struggled to see, the vision of the many-eyed spider overwhelming her. What she had failed to notice, however, was that her leg was no longer hurting. Granted, she had so many legs now that she wouldn’t have known which one the pain should be in.
“It’s alright, lad,” said Pheston, releasing Friedrich. “You just have to wait for a few minutes and you’ll get them back.”
Friedrich relaxed. He was still stressed that his masks were no longer in his possession, but the powerful urge to seized them back was gone. He had not realised the hold they had on him. It was not as intense as the former grip of the minotaur mask before he had awakened it, but it was intense nonetheless. He knew he would not have hurt Marina or Teleri, but he did not want anyone wearing the masks but him the moment he lunged for them. Now, he was glad that their wounds would be healed upon their return to normality.
“How…how do you feel?” he asked them.
Marina looked at him and screeched as goblins often do. She had meant to tell him that she felt terrible, but the words could not come out. Teleri was unsure of how to make any noise, but found a way to wriggle her fangs just enough to give a subtle response.
“Lovely,” said Pheston. “Everyone’s feeling good again and I can dig up the dragon bones while you transforming rascals wait for the power of the masks to wear off.”
He spun around, bounded into the ash grave, and began digging through it with his hands. He did not care that he was going to emerge as black as night, for the chance to work with dragon bones was something he had coveted for a long time. He never thought he would be granted the opportunity, especially during his time in Keldracht, but here it was.
*
Friedrich burst through the doors in fox form, running into the streets of Lundstad, much to the shock of the two guards who had resumed their positions after the failed hunt for the mysterious goblin troublemaker. They turned and looked to each other for a minute before shrugging and closing the doors.
“Unbelievable,” thought Friedrich, looking back. He walked up to them and morphed into a minotaur, giving the two men the fright of their lives as the hairy bovine beast glowered down at them.
He thundered down the street and transformed into a fox, finally convincing the guards that they had better do something. Once the two men had ran for help, Marina, Teleri, and Pheston crept out of the Undercity entrance and met up with Friedrich who was casually walking towards them in human form.
“Is it that painful every time you transform?” asked Marina, feeling newfound sympathy for her friend.
“Yes, but you get used to it,” he shrugged. His hand moved up to his scarf and he could feel the goblin and spider masks resting between it and his armour.
“That is most unenviable,” said Teleri, looking to him sympathetically.
“On the bright side, you two are back to your beautiful mended selves…erm, normal selves.”
Friedrich pivoted and walked rigidly back down the street while Pheston chortled at the young man’s embarrassment. “What a dolt,” he said. “Can’t hold his tongue when he ought to.”
“Ironic,” muttered Teleri, her cheeks rosy from the compliment.
“Pah! If I say something foolish, I deal with it rather than walk away like a crippled penguin. You wouldn’t think he helped take down a dragon, would you?”
The three hurried after Friedrich, who remained quiet for half the walk back to Bjorn’s smithy. Upon walking through the doors, Pheston’s son and grandson were there to greet them. They had big smiles on their faces upon seeing their father and grandfather return, no doubt with glorious victory in tow. The fact that he looked like he’d been working in a coal mine for a month without bathing solidified that expectation in their minds.
“Mission accomplished, boys,” said Pheston, thumping his chest. “Dragon bones are in the sack and we can make for the Forge of Ages at a moment’s notice.”
“You, father,” said Bjorn, “are a force to be reckoned with. The bards should sing wondrous tales of your adventures in this world and the demon realm, for they deserve to be known far and wide. I’m proud to be your son.”
“And grandson!” said Alf, bouncing from side to side. “Wait until I tell the rest of the clan…and my friends…and everyone in town.”
Pheston, who was already elated from his success, looked about ready to burst with overflowing joy. To return home after so long and to be treated as a hero by his family was filling him with emotions he had not experienced in a long time. He hoped that when he met the rest of his children and grandchildren that he could evoke the same reactions from them.
“I’d like you to come with us, son,” said Pheston. “And you too, Alf. Can you afford to shut up shop for a couple of days?”
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“It’ll be a stretch,” said Bjorn, looking disheartened.
Pheston pulled out a couple of bones from his sack and threw them to his son. “And if you sell these genuine dragon bones for a few hundred kupons apiece?”
“These’ll fetch two thousand each, easily,” said Bjorn, looking at the bones in amazement. “Very well, father. We’ll both accompany you to the Forge of Ages and offer whatever assistance we can.”
“Yes!” cried Alf, jumping for joy. “I can’t wait. When do we tell mother?”
“Go do that now, lad,” said Pheston, walking over and ruffling his grandson’s hair. “I want to have a talk with your father for a while, alright?”
“Yes, grandfather,” said Alf, making himself scarce.
“Son,” said Pheston, “about that other task we discussed?”
Friedrich, Marina, and Teleri were not sure what this task was, but they presumed it had something to do with acquiring the special Lundstad mead that Pheston could not stop talking about on the journey here.
“Yes, he is willing,” said Bjorn, “but he said he’s having an issue with the transport.”
“We’ll make it work,” said Pheston, waving his hand. “Frankly, I’m amazed the old bastard still lives in the city and still knows where the damned thing is submerged.”
This was not about mead. “What’s going on?” asked Friedrich.
Pheston gave the Mercian a conniving grin. “I had Bjorn reach out to an old friend. It was a long shot, but he may be able to come through for us.”
“Come through in what way?” asked Friedrich, his eyes narrowing. “This had better be a pleasant secret and not another nasty surprise that you’ll later laugh about.”
“I assure you, Friedrich,” said Bjorn. “This may prove fruitful to your endeavours.”
“What is it?”
Pheston chuckled. “I’ll tell you after we visit the forge, my friend. It’s a good surprise, lad. Trust me!”
“He may trust you fully, however, I am of the mind that you should tell us immediately,” said Teleri. “If there is a risk to our safety, we should be informed. We have wondered into danger with you alarmingly frequently since we met.”
“There is one person I will tell,” said Pheston, holding up an index finger. He jerked it downwards and pointed at Marina. “Young lass, you’re crucial to this plan.”
“Me?” asked Marina, surprised. “Alright, but if it’s anything too dangerous, I won’t be keeping your secret.”
“Fine,” grumbled Pheston, beckoning her out the back to the forge, leaving the others with Bjorn.
Marina and Pheston walked into the cold outdoors where they remained sheltered from the faint drizzle by the overhanging roof. Pheston scratched his beard, trying to work out how to say what he wanted to say. Marina folded her arms and started tapping her foot, trying to speed him along, but he took his sweet time formulating his words before he eventually spoke.
“Alright. I want to preface this by saying that this is not a guaranteed success. Understood?”
“Yes,” replied Marina.
“It’s just I don’t want to get the lad’s hopes up. Alright?”
“Yes.”
“I probably shouldn’t have asked Bjorn about this in front of him. Foolish of my, quite frankly.”
“Pheston!”
“I’m getting to it, I’m getting to it!” grumbled the old man. “Alright, so back in my youth I used to go fishing down by Lake Windmere just outside of town. I was friends with the son of a fisherman, Sigurd, and we often challenged each other to catch the fish by hand. No easy task, especially in the freezing cold water and when they’re such squirmy little things, eh?”
Marina did not say anything, her patience very much having worn thin. Her twitching eye, however, answered for her.
“Right, yes. So, one day I challenged him to swim to the bottom of the lake and touch the bottom. The absolute mad man thought it was a great idea and he did it. I figured I’d have to dive in after him and save him because I was always the physically gifted one, whereas he was more of a bookworm. Loved learning about magic, you see. He swam out to the centre of the lake and I gave him the signal. Down he went, diving deep, as I swam out after him, expecting the opportunity to be a saviour and the chance to mock him relentlessly for years to come. I was not granted either of these.
“Sigurd surfaced shockingly quickly with a stunned look on his face. I still remember it clearly to this day. His eyes were about to burst out and slowly, the biggest smile you ever did see spread across his face. He stared at me and uttered ‘brass ship’ before taking a deep breath and diving once again. Curious, I followed him and kicked my way down deep. Much to my surprise, I saw exactly that…a brass ship.
“It was sitting at the bottom of the lake, covered in all manner of algae and serving as home to more than a few fishes. How it had come to be there, I could only guess, but it looked to be intact even though it was completely unusable. We didn’t tell anyone, thinking they wouldn’t believe us, but we talked about it a few times after that and visited it once or twice.
“Five years later, I meet up with Sigurd when he returned to Lundstad after a year away studying magic under Ganfir of the Frost—he’s a local mage, unpleasant gentleman but very skilled—and Sigurd brings up the ship again. He says that he learned all about an ancient war fleet called the Fleet of Brass that were used to travel from island to island, conquering it many millennia ago. The Fleet of Brass and its raiders were wiped out, but it seems as though a lone boat survived and was hidden at the bottom of Lake Windmere.”
Pheston looked at Marina expectantly and she raised an eyebrow. “Alright…and?” she asked.
“Come on girlie, you’re smarter than the other two,” said Pheston, annoyed at her lack of enthusiasm. “Sigurd is going to raise the ship and we’re going to sail to the Orion Tower on it. We have our vessel and we don’t need to spend a single kupon on it!”
“A brass ship that’s at the bottom of a lake?” asked the incredulous Marina.
“Yes!” exclaimed Pheston excitedly. “Sigurd said that he’s a skilled enough ice mage that he could find a way to surface the boat. With a bit of cleanup, we can make it usable again. And that’s where you come in…”
Marina sighed and then frowned. “Alright, go on.”
“These ships? They’re powered by electricity. They can float by themselves just fine, but they need the energy of lightning magic to sail. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“I’m going to power this ship.”
“Yes. Well, more specifically, you’re going to use Shockwave to power this ship. Insert the little fella into the power chamber and have him do all the work so you don’t have to.”
“But he feeds off of my power. I’m not sure I’m strong enough.”
Pheston laughed. “We’ll worry about the finer details later, but I want you to go help your new best friend Sigurd while me and the others go to the Forge of Ages.”
Marina looked over her shoulder towards the door. “Alright,” she said, doubting her ability to make this plan work. “I’ll do it for Friedrich.”
“Very good,” said Friedrich, clapping her on the shoulder. “You do this for him and I reckon he’ll propose to you on the spot.”
“P-p-propose?” asked Marina, blushing intensely. “You strange, strange man. Do not talk of such things!”
Pheston chortled. “A wedding at sea on the way to Orion Tower, eh? Although, if you’re not interested, I’m sure Goldie would marry him.”
“Such nonsense,” said Marina, shooting him a dirty look and them stomping back into the shop to the stared of Friedrich and Teleri. “The only one in danger is Pheston and that’s because I will blast him into the sun with the force of a thousand thunderstorms.”
Friedrich and Teleri looked to each other, not sure what to make of this. “This surprise…this plan,” said Friedrich. “Is it a good one?”
Marina bit her lip. “If it works, he’s solved all our problems. But I am livid with his candour!”