“Do you mind my being here?” Judd asked Suvau as he wrapped a leather apron around himself, checking over his tools. “I mean, is my presence going to inhibit you?”

“My only condition of your being here is that you don’t question me about my methods halfway through.” Suvau warned. “Trust me, it’ll look like a hot mess until it takes shape.”

Judd nodded and glanced at the table. The hilt rested on the work surface, the remains of the metal blade that had been embedded in it removed. There was a cleaned and reinforced gap where the new blade would slide into. Judd traced the crest on the hilt, feeling the light ridges of words and symbols that might have been completely lost to the ravages of time if not for his chance encounter with it in the goblin cave.

Nearby was the mould that the molten metal would be poured into that would give the blade its basic shape. It was not a particularly polished mould but as Suvau had said, it was just enough to give the blade the beginning of its unique character. The rest would be up to him as a weaponsmith to hammer and shape it into the envisioned end result.

Suvau began by melting the metal which was his secret combination over the lava flow. Judd sat against the wall, fascinated as Suvau peered into the blend, his dark brown eyes scouring it with a critical gaze.

“What are you doing?” Whispered Judd, careful about breaking Suvau’s concentration.

“I am heating the metal, removing any dross,” he used metal tongs to scrape the surface of the molten metal, discarding that which he removed, “until it becomes pure.”

Judd watched with wide eyes. Suvau had a confident ease yet alertness about his work that was awe inspiring.

“How do you know when it’s pure?” Judd breathed.

Suvau smiled, his eyes on the melted metal. “When I can see my reflection looking back at me.”

“You’re not serious?” Verne exclaimed at Emeri’s statement.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The young dark skinned daughter of Suvau and Yolana asked, surprised.

Verne looked at Aalis then back at Emeri. “Because…he’s pedantic and exacting…and knows everything…”

Emeri laughed. “I’m not saying he’s none of those things…but it’s just so refreshing to have someone to talk to about ideas, theories, theologies…”

They had emerged from the network of tunnels from a cave into a chasm that was leading them up and out. The sky had opened above their heads, the storm clouds rolling away with a very brisk breeze that they were yet to feel, surrounded by walls of stone.

“It’s just up ahead.” Emeri said, pointing then waved her hand towards the ground. “That moss is excellent for drawing poison from wounds.”

“Given our poisonous experiences so far, I’d say we need as much of that as we can carry.” Verne muttered, kneeling.

“Here,” Aalis took a small box from her pack and handed it to Verne, “it will retain more of its healing properties if its kept alive.” She used a small blade to pry several pieces of stone from the ground, taking the moss growing on it with the chunks. Verne opened the lid and she deposited them inside.

Satisfied with her harvest they continued.

“I’m not saying Caste is painful to be around,” Verne returned them to the previous topic, “but he can be so…” she mimicked strangling him. “He’s not the biggest fan of your people for a start.”

“There are not many who are outside of our own people that are.” Emeri replied. “I can hardly blame him for believing what he’s been told with no reason to challenge it.”

Verne shook her head. “You’re more forgiving than I would be in your situation.”

“Like I said, it’s just nice to have someone to debate with on a deeper level.” Emeri sighed. “I don’t feel so lonely when we’re arguing. Oh…feel that?” She lifted her hands to the sky. “Snow!” Aalis and Verne paused, the tiniest white snowflakes drifting down. “Probably just a small shower but so pretty.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

They followed the chasm as it shallowed, ending between the two clefts of rock, revealing a valley formed from the cleavage of three mountain sides. And taking up a large portion of the valley was a lake of clean, clear water.

“Oh my…” Aalis breathed.

“Wow.” Verne gasped. “That’s quite beautiful.”

The water was so clear in the lake that its bed, which was made up of small round pebbles, could be seen at any depth. The land around the lake was green and lush and there were trees that looked like they belonged in a forest, not on the slopes of mountains that were covered in snow.

Aalis approached one of the trees, marvelling at it. “This should not be able to grow here,” she shook her head, “it is simply not possible…”

“It’s because of the geothermal pockets I was telling you about. I think there’s a very strong one beneath the lake which is why the water doesn’t freeze.” Emeri removed her pack and set it down, removing her shoes and tucking her skirts up. “I’ve researched the plants in this lake and compared them to books in the library. They usually only grow further north in warmer climates but they’re here.”

“Hang on,” Verne grasped Emeri’s arm, “the water…what if it’s tainted?”

“It doesn’t smell like sulphur, there are plants growing in it and look,” Emeri took her arm and drew her closer to the lake, “see that movement?”

“Are those…fish?” Emeri nodded. “How are there fish in a lake in the mountains?”

“I don’t know.” Emeri laughed. “But there are! How fantastic is that?!”

Verne looked at Aalis and saw she was doing the same as Emeri, hiking her skirts up and removing her shoes and stockings.

“Oh well…if there are no men to berate us for showing off our ankles…” Verne snorted and followed suit.

Aalis approached the lake, Emeri already wading through it, gathering handfuls of long dark purple strands, plucking them from between the stones where they grew. Aalis dipped her toes in and sighed.

“It is warm…not hot but oh so warm…”

“Warm enough to swim?” Verne asked, wading in. “Huh…definitely warm enough.”

“Why not?” Aalis looked at her. “We do not know when you might have the freedom to do so. Strip off your outer layers and swim.”

Verne bit her bottom lip and beamed. “You know what? I just might do that.”

She yanked off her tunic and trousers, a bandeau around her bust to help disguise it and a pair of braies that acted like shorts remaining. She even removed her bandana and returned to the lake. Aalis watched enviously as Verne sloshed in where it was deeper then dove into the water, her strong arms propelling her across the lake.

“One day,” she vowed softly, “I am going to learn how to swim.” Then she was distracted by the sight of waterlilies drifting across the surface.

The foundations of the northern corner of the fort had been sealed for good reason. When it rained, water leeched in from poor seals and possibly underground sources. After a brief reconnaissance Caste had returned to the room above to remove his shoes and socks, leaving them near his cappa clausa and hiked his tunic up to his knees, gazing at the black water that was only a few steps down, in shaking terror.

He wouldn’t have been brave enough at all to bother if it hadn’t been for the sight of something on a ledge on the other side of the basement that could well be a box.

The water wasn’t tainted and even if it was, it had only ever affected women.

However, Caste was relieved he couldn’t detect the taint and decided it was still worth the risk at securing what could be lost manuscripts.

He slid his foot into the water and gasped at the icy bite on his toes. He cringed and kept going until he found the floor, the water halfway up his calves. The water wasn’t that deep but he could hear more trickling into the basement. Caste forced his other foot in and picked up the lamp. With painstaking progress he crossed the basement floor, whimpering and scrunching his eyes shut at every unidentifiable squelch and lump he came blindly across. Every image of every slimy monster of Maul and of eels and leeches returned to him and he cursed his brilliant memory, wishing he could forget them all.

Now and again he’d glance over his shoulder, reassuring himself that he could still see the open hatch. Not that there was much light beyond it now, the lamp with him but he could still make out its edges in the ceiling.

The basement took a dip for the deeper side, going down a step and Caste yelped, the water up to his knees and lapping at the hem of his tunic. It was bitterly cold.

“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this…” He shuddered, reaching the halfway point, the ledge coming into view and to his relief, there was a chest tucked up on it, out of reach of everything but the most excessive of deluges.

Another step down brought the water up to Caste’s thighs and he squirmed and whimpered, starting to wish he’d forgone his pride and invited Giordi along. Even his irritating chatter would have been welcome in the grim and the dark.

Finally he reached the far side of the basement and to Caste’s dismay, he was now too low to be able to reach the ledge. There were pillars littered throughout the basement and there was one quite close to the ledge. Caste glanced back, making sure the hatch was still open then grasped the wall and tried to find any kind of grip with his toes on the pillar. He found one and after several goes, managed to be able to push himself up, reaching out with every sinew pulled tight, his fingertips grazing the box.

“If this is just a collection of laundry lists…” Caste grunted, managing to knock the chest forwards a little, able to get a pinch grip on the corner, taking a risk and dragging it towards himself. It half slid off the ledge and Caste dropped what he was carrying, opening his arms, feeling the chest crash into them.

He was faced with two warring revelations in that moment.

He had possession of a cleric’s greatest treasure…

…and he had dropped his lamp, the light immediately doused in the opaque water.

Caste forwent any attempt to recover it, turning and trying to run through the water, clutching at the chest…

…only to see the faint outline of the open hatch become smaller and smaller…until it closed, sealing him in.