Audun sat on the wain facing backward, grinning constantly and pointing excitedly at everything that moved. Ror could feel Halfur’s anger, and it made him laugh inside. There was nothing for it; to send the boy back alone would likely mean his death, as he was not trained to survive in the wild, and to send someone back with him meant they would not be able to return. Still Halfur seethed. Ror saved his frustration for Yemi, though he knew she just wanted to protect Audun from his mother, and he couldn’t blame her.

“He’ll earn his keep,” Gund said ominously.

He was tasked with being Gund’s paige, and Gund told him to record everything of note. Yemi had filled a small pack with what Audun considered essential, and that included a richly bound journal and stylus. Gund reiterated that he was only to write things of import to their purpose, and not idle things that caught Audun’s fancy. The boy dutifully nodded. He was now sitting behind Neri and Gund and looking wide eyed at the world he’d never seen, seemingly undaunted by the sky and wide open lands.

They were within site of the Dawnwood. Its eaves rose dark on the horizon. Before them was a long stretch of gradually rising hills covered in long grass. The hills were spotted with groves of trees which Ror regarded suspiciously. Their journey had been uneventful thus far. They’d encountered a number of merchants travelling from the Green Lion Inn, whom Gund alone spoke with. He was careful not to directly ask for any information about the half dwarf they were seeking, but did cleverly glean through conversation that there was a half dwarf sellsword providing protection for a steep price, and was last seen at the inn.

“You likely won’t need his services,” one merchant said, looking carefully at Ror, Halfur, Buri and Koll. “You’ve got a small army looking after you.” Ror always listened closely, hoping to hear word of his uncle Lobuhl. It was not a goal of this journey, but he hoped dearly to find him.

The story was that Gund hailed from Heth in his youth, but had been residing in a mansion in the northern spire of the Ladder to the Moon, running his trade enterprise through hired hands. He’d begun to distrust his help, and so he had taken to the road himself to see the state of the western markets himself.

“You’ll do well in Eruhal,” they were told. “King Derrion has made peace with the orcs, and they’ve begun bartering goods again. There’s many rare wares to purvey, if you’ve the coin to acquire them.”

Audun diligently penned every word of these conversations, along with detailed descriptions of the merchants they spoke with, especially if they were goblins. Other than that his pen rested, except for when a pair of thrushes flew overhead towards the mountains.

A few travelers they met spoke of goblins moving through the trees or in the shadows at night. Audun never bothered to record these reports, rather he gave Ror knowing looks. It wasn’t a far fetched notion that the Grim Whimsey would be keeping their path clear, though how Ridzak could know of their plan was a thing Ror couldn’t figure out. Whatever the cause, there were no bandits, assassins or roving packs of gnolls. Someone was keeping the path clear, and all travelers were benefiting from it.

Nava took a liking to Audun. She sat by him whenever they made camp, and asked him questions about his journal and the books he read. He would talk with her endlessly, and she listened enduringly. They travelled until the following afternoon, then found a long ramp into a stretch of dimroad that had fallen into disrepair. Most of the space was covered in large chunks of rubble, and there was a large hole that allowed enough sunlight in to comfort the yaks, who were not comfortable in dark spaces. They tied them off on a spike of crystal under the hole, where they could enjoy both light and wind, made their camp and took their turns sleeping.

Ror took first watch, as always, and when he laid his head down afterwards he was fast to sleep. He wandered through cold tunnels filled with mist during his dreams. Each was lined with doors cut into the stone. He ignored them all, neither looking to the left or the right as he plunged forward. One tunnel would fade into another, with only the shade of the mist and size of the doors to tell them apart. He heard his father’s voice as he walked. It echoed all around him, but was too faint for him to understand. Eventually he came to an end to one of the tunnels, and through that gate he broke. His father’s voice turned into Ridzak’s, and when he burst through the door he saw the goblin grinning only inches away from him.

“About time you caught up,” Ror said as he sat upright. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and saw it was not Ridzak, but Noxi. With him were two of Ridzak’s veteran fighters; Ronnkonn Bronn Ronnkonn, who stood almost as tall as a human and was as thickly muscled as any dwarf, and Spetz Naz Spetz, the deadliest archer Ror had ever known. He’d known these brutes as long as he’d known Ridzak, but had never seen the two of them together since he first met them at the Nine Bones Grove.

“Where’s Ridzak?” Ror asked.

Ronnkonn shrugged and Spetz spat. It was a tall, thin goblin women who spoke. She hopped down out the hole in the roof over the dimroad and sauntered over to Ror. He’d never seen her, but Ridzak spoke of her often. “The only one to tempt me,” he’d say of her. She was pretty, for a goblin woman, lithe and strong, and as clinked as any veteran of the Whimsey.

“Their boss is gone,” she said. “His brother took him from your jail.”

“I gave him a weapon,” Ror replied. “I went back for him, but he was gone.”

“And he ain’t come back to us,” said Spetz.

“Which means one thing,” said Ronnkonn.

“And what are you doing with the Whimsey?” Ror asked Vinaya Da Vinaya.

She twisted a lock of her long white hair around her finger. “Well, I figure if I help rescue him, he’ll owe me.”

“Boss told her secrets,” said Spetz.

“Secrets he ain’t even told Nox,” said Ronnkonn.

Noxi shrugged and nodded his head.

“Where’s your brother,” Halfur asked, looking directly at Noxi.

“Ain’t been around too many spies in your day, have you?” Noxi answered. “Boys, cover yer ears whilst I reveal all my tricks to the Clever Dwarf. You too Vivi.”

Vinaya laughed.

Ror stood. He felt a twinge of worry for Ridzak. He and the Goblin King were not on friendly terms. Still, Ror doubted Ridzak would be caught unless it served some goal of his. And if any of his gang were in on his plans, they would keep it to themselves.

“Have you been keeping the roads clear for us?” he asked.

“Keepin’ ‘em clear, aye,” Noxi replied. “For you? Naw. You lot don’t need no protection. But, I owes a friend a favor, and the Whimsey owes me more ‘n can be repaid. Now, we’re here because we’s curious. Don’t suppose you’d explain to us why you’re pushin’ towards the Dawnwood at a time like this? And why you’ve all done up your hair like maidens at a wedding?”

“Tell me your errand, and I’ll tell you ours,” Ror said back. “I’d also like to know why you abandoned High Alden. I looked for you when…” his voice trailed off.

Noxi’s ears lowered. His voice was soft when he spoke. “I caught wind that Boss’s brother had some foul tricks up his sleeve. That he and the drow had some terror from another world on their side, and that you lot were doomed. I also knew Sallywag had his head too far in the bull’s bum to know his way out, and that you’d likely be coming for revenge. So I skedaddled. Can you blame me?”

“I would have let you live, along with Dennel and the others.”

Noxi’s eyes squinted and his mouth spread from ear to ear. “Made me happy that did, when yer brother told me it. Sally’d gone too deep, but Dennel’s as good as they get. And the sweet princess, I feel for her, I really do, but she’s strong, and this lil tragedy might be just what she needs in the end. You don’t forge a sword by petting it, after all.”

Ror’s temper flared at Noxi’s trivial esteem of Cara’s pain. He balled his fists and took a step toward the goblin. Ronnkonn moved to stand between them, but one look from Buri halted him. Noxi cowered and threw his hands in the air.

“Now you halt, you! I know her better, so I has rights to speak! You did that kingdom a favor, even if it tears you up to think of how bad she’s hurting.”

“Sally was a rat,” said Spetz.

“The worst kind of rat,” said Ronnkonn.

“Aye,” Noxi chimed in, “he had it comin’. There’s not ‘nuff parchment to log all his dirty deals and lackwit blunders.”

“Cara was right behind him when I crushed his skull,” Ror said.

Halfur’s brow raised, and a look of shock took Noxi’s face. “What?” he said.

“I didn’t see her until it was too late. His blood splashed on her face. And she held the little one in her arms.”

“Gislain?” Noxi ran a hand over his head and sat cross legged on the ground. “You didn’t plan for that, mate.”

Ror sat next to Noxi as he would Ridzak. He wished Ridzak was there. “I’d hoped to find her inside the keep after dragging Salimod away in chains.”

“What happened instead?” Halfur asked, slowly stepping closer. The others had all gathered around, along with a dozen or more of the Whimsey. Ror looked at the goblins. Some of them he recognized, others he did not. The strange ones were all much older than the usual crew. Only Noxi and Grandell were of an age with Ridzak, but these were older still. Their faces were hard and lined, and their bodies were lean and battle worn as hand hammered steel. Ridzak often spoke of the old gang. Sometimes their names changed, but they always sounded like a fearsome bunch. Their presence worried him. They knew Ridzak better than anyone, and if they’d come out of retirement, then his disappearance was not likely a ruse. Though with Ridzak, one never knew.

Ror took a deep breath before telling his story. “There was a storm, and the sappers had to do their work a day early, so we marched on them in the dead of night. I’d hoped to come in the splendor of the sun and call Salimod out to me, then take him away and bring him back to Cloud Hammer, or at least put him down away from his children. He came out to me, sure enough, in his evening finery, without his crown. He dropped to his knees and begged. That’s what I wanted. I wanted him to beg and swear and plead, so he could be seen for the gutless worm he is. But he didn’t beg for his life. He offered it, in exchange for his people. How dare he show virtue then and rob me of what little joy I could find in that moment?”

“Disgusting,” said Spetz.

“Foul,” said Ronnkonn.

“He’s like that,” said Noxi. “Always knows just how to steal a person’s thunder. He pushes you to the brink, then plays the martyr.”

“He got his wish,” Ror continued. “Set Malgond down on his skull, and there she was.”

Noxi sniffed and turned his head.

Vinaya came to Ror’s side and wrapped an around around his shoulders. “The boys all speak high of you. They say your Boss’s friend, true as blood and bone. Findin’ him comes first, but we’ll do what we can to help you, with whatever you’ve slapped yer beards under.”

“Who’s making decisions while Ridzak’s gone?” Ror wanted to know who he was dealing with before revealing their intentions.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

They all looked to an old woman who stood back in a dark corner of the dimroad. She stepped into the light and inclined her head in a slight bow. She was an uncanny blend of old and strong, with two rows of spiked silver hair down the middle of her scalp. Her ears were clinked as could be, and she wore a chain heavy with more clink around her neck. “They call me Red. I’m Boss’ mum.”

Ror and Halfur exchanged a startled look, then regarded Red.

“He never mentioned you,” Ror said.

“‘Cos I’m supposed to be dead. But there’s no time for that now. World’s lost without the Whimsey, and the Whimsey’s lost without Boss. What’s yer game, dwarf child? Speak up before I die for real.”

Ror was loth to trust any of the kin that attacked his home, even if they were loyal to Ridzak. But there was command in Red’s voice that he felt compelled by. “We’re looking for the doomed, and any other troops we can find. And, if possible, our uncle Lobuhl.”

“Ah, the sour one,” said Red. “I like him. He’s angry at everyone and everything, and if all kins not your own had a single throat to squeeze, his hands would be around it.”

That’s Uncle Lobuhl, all right. “How do you know our uncle?”.

“I went by Blue back then, and he was no older than you are now. It wasn’t a friendly encounter, I’ll say that much. So here’s what we can do that suits us too. You need eyes in yer mountain. We can be those eyes. I’ll send Spetz and Ronnkonn. They’re not the Spijun brothers, but they’ll doo right well. Nox wants to stay near his little family, and I can’t refuse him that, so I’ll have him lookin’ out for you and yers. We’ll keep your post posted of what’s goin’ on inside the ole’ World Dragon. That sound fair?”

“Almost,” Halfur said. Ror turned to interrupt, but Halfur had a certain look in his eye; his brow was so furrowed he could have gripped a sword with the wrinkles between his eyes, and his right eyebrow raised high enough to hide under his red-gold hair. “We have a man in the Green Lion Inn who may know the whereabouts of the doomed. We’re not completely certain we can trust him.”

“And you’re completely certain you can trust us?” Red asked suspiciously.

Halfur shook his head. “Of course not. But if he sees the Grim Whimsey backing us up, he’ll be less likely to try anything… unprofitable.”

Red nodded slowly. Her ears jingled. “Your reasoning sounds reasonable. I’ll send some mean lookin’ clinkers to the Dawnwood. They’ll be there waitin’.”

“Madam,” said Ronnkonn.

“Yes, big fella?”

“I may know sumt’n that might help them find their lost dwarves.”

“Well, you best spout it out, then.”

“Yeah,” said Spetz. “Get spoutin’.”

“Well, I don’t know where they are or nuthin’, but I know they’re in trouble. Remember Spetz, when Boss had us run down those Dark Sisters who were stirrin’ things up between Red Eye and Prince Pretty Pants?”

“Of course I remember. You almost got us killed.”

“So much for spouting it out,” said Halfur. He turned away and went to pack up his bedroll.

“The Dark Ladies was talkin’ ‘bout ‘em. Said the Lost Dwarves was on the list, but not till the sheep was separated from the ram. I’m not sure what they meant by all that, but I had a feeling someone was about to be double crossed.”

Ror thought over Ronnkonn’s words. He had a simpleness to him, but he did not strike Ror as stupid. A sharp blade may cut deep, but a heavy maul can bash through a brick wall, and if one wanted knowledge of a field, they’d do better to ask a tortoise than a coney. Separate the sheep from the ram. Who’s the ram? Me? Or him? “When was this?”.

“Oh,” Ronnkonn’s face looked pained. He rubbed at his temples as if he’d been struck. “Well, the Pansy Prince was still around, so back then I suppose.”

“He means Marcas,” Noxi clarified.

Ror nodded. This was before Koll. I meant nothing to the Underguard then. So, Valung is being led along. But the Underguard are the ones on the list, not him. Ror smiled. “Thank you, Big Fella.”

Ronnkonn smiled back, which seemed to upset Spetz.

The goblins left after a few reassurances of help from Red. Noxi kept looking at Ror as if he wanted to say something, but whenever he opened his mouth he’d shut it again.

“What do you make of Big Fella’s comment?” Ror asked Halfur. Halfur silently shook his head. Ror turned to Buri and Koll, who were standing side by side.

Koll spoke first, almost calling Ror Dread Highness, then catching himself. “Well, h'Ghar, our relationship with Valung is difficult to explain. If there’s a plot to assault the doomed, then he would not be involved.”

“And the drow would need another plan like the one they used against Thrond,” Buri added. “Have they the resources left?”.

“Did you make a head-count of the wraiths?” Halfur asked scornfully.

Gund sighed. “It makes no difference. Our plan remains as it is.”

“True,” said Buri. “We can’t find them without first going to the Green Lion.”

“But if the Underguard is in danger, we may want to postpone meeting with Derrion,” Ror said.

“We may never find them, Ror,” Halfur said.

“Finding them was your idea.” Again Ror’s ire rose towards Halfur.

“And I knew when I thought of it it was a long shot. Derrion is in Castle Gwynd. He’s a known factor. I don’t think it wise to put the unknown before the known.”

Ror thought for a moment. Halfur raised a fine point, but he was anxious over the Underguard. The drow had put together a plot that drove an entire people from their kingdom, mustering armies from three other kins, two of which were hitherto unknown. It may be the trolls and wraiths have done all their willing to do for the drow. Then again, Thrond may have just been the beginning. “It’s vital that we stop this now, for the sake of others as well as ourselves. Derrion’s location may be known, but is is heart?”

“I think his mind is an easy thing to guess,” Halfur replied. “We offer him something he can’t refuse, and he won’t refuse.”

Ror’s brow lowered in angry suspicion. Halfur’s mind was a labyrinth, and there was ever a beast lurking somewhere within. “And what, pray tell, could Derrion not refuse.”

Halfur breathed deep and looked away, then back to Ror. “We’ll discuss that…”

“Now,” Ror said.

“Mannarim.”

Ror rolled his eyes. “I should send you to Salimod. All traitors who’d sell our kingdom deserve the same fate.”

Halfur shook his head and said nothing. Ror took a deep breath. “Sorry, brother,” he said. But it was too late. Halfur was onto something, something brilliant, most like, and nothing angered him more than others not perceiving good sense.

“At least wait till we return,” he said to Ror, venom dripping down his chin with each word. “Then Yemi and Klar can be there to watch. I wouldn’t want you to break habit.”

Ror’s heart ignited and he pressed forward. Gund stepped between them and gripped both their collars. “Now I know why Urum urged me to come along. There’s no time for this. Kill each other after we take the mountain back, if you must. Or I’ll kill you both now, and have a reasonable conversation with Derrion.”

Gund let them go. Ror stood right where he was, letting Halfur know with his eyes what awaited him should he ever dare to say such a thing again. Halfur resumed packing his gear.

It was evening when they left the dimroad. Halfur was cemetary silent, which Audun seemed to take as his queue to speak fervently. He was evidently very excited to be on their journey.

“So why are you so keen on seeing Eruhal?” Nava asked him. She was walking behind the wain where Ror and Buri stood guard. Halfur had moved to the fore, opposite Koll, and Neri was driving so that he could keep lookout.

“Castle Gwyyyynd!” Audun shouted, lifting his arms and falling back in the wain.

“I hear it’s very beautiful,” she said. “I’d like to see the Golden Spires. It’s a great realm that can have that much gold just laying around atop a handfull of towers.”

“They want the sun to keep shining,” Audun said back as he lay n his back, staring into the open blue sky.

“It seems we have two of them, nowadays,” Nava replied, glancing upward. Ror followed her gaze and saw the Titan’s Torch stabbing through the sky. It was at most a tenth the size of the sun, but just as bright and alive with a certain essence.

“That’s the red sun,” Audun said. “The Provosans loved the red light. THe Arcadians loved the gold. That’s why they built the Golden Spires, so there would always be gold in the sky.”

“You think the Titan’s Torch is a new sun?” Nava asked.

“No.”

“We should reach the Dawnwood before we stop again,” said Gund. “h’Ghar, you think we’ll be safe staying in the forest for a night? Or should we rest somewhere along the way, then off to the Green Lion? I don’t want to risk any of my jewels being robbed in the night.”

“We’d best press on until we reach the Green Lion,” Ror replied.

Gund nodded, and they continued on until they reached the clearing in the middle of the Dawnwood where the Green Lion was built. The Dawnwood was aptly named. It was filled with white trunked birches, golden leafed laurelins, and tall oaks with wide spreading boughs. All about them the sun peaked through the canopy. Dust swirled in the many shafts of its light, and the white birches gleamed like a bright morning in the early days of spring.

The Green Lion was built in a low basin between three converging hills. There was a large stable to the north. Its roof was steep and painted blue, and crested with a tall silver weather vane shaped like a huntsman with a notched bow. The stable itself was a plain, red building with yellow doors. The Inn was green, as one would expect, with gold trim and iron gargoyles perched along its many corners. It was quite a large building, with multiple wings and a courtyard in the center. A series of gray stone doors could be seen in the western hill, marked with carvings of either thunderbolts or crescent moons, indicating whether the rooms were furnished for drow or dwarven guests.

They were greeted by a trio of humans who unloaded all their baggage onto a cart. Two of the porters brought their baggage directly to one of the rooms in the hill, which Gund directed Neri to pay for. The yaks were taken to the stable after the wain was brought to a locked shed where carts were watched under guard. When all was done and the others were getting ready to bathe and rest in the room, Ror decided to scout the inn. He stood at the tall, double doors under the entry arch. The sign for the inn hung on creaking hinges from the fore of the arch. There was a grassy hill and tall hill in the background, with a thunder crowned mountain behind the horizon. Three stars rose from the horizon to the top of the sign, and in the fore was a lion with a mane of green grass laying on the ground. The lion held a golden sun in its fore paws, and was gnawing on its flames. A comically perturbed face was painted on the sun. Ror felt a presence by him. He turned and saw his brother.

“I regret my words from before,” Halfur said.

“As do I,” said Ror. “You have a gift for planning, and are never wasteful. I think I’m proving slow to grasp the full scope of our defeat.”

“I wasn’t there. The things you saw, the wraiths... I still can’t picture how they look, let alone believe the tale is true.”

“And yet you’ve aptly measure our desperation. I’m still wrapping my mind around your plan to offer Derrion mannarim, though. We’ll be weak after we take Thrond back, and the world knows our secret now. Other realms will seek to keep their boot on us, and we’ll need every advantage we can grasp in order to stay on our feet.”

“We’ll give very little, though Derrion will think we’ve given much. And he’ll know we’d be loth to give much of our supply, so he’ll think we have more than we do. And if the King of Eruhal thinks this, the whole of Konistra will.”

“That depends on what the drow and goblins learn. Those creatures, the wraiths, they seemed drawn to the ohr.”

“Why do you say that?”

Ror was about to answer when a group of drunken men in armor stumbled out. They wore red slashed surcoats with golden phoenixes on their breasts. One of them almost walked right into Ror and Halfur. The dwarves stood stone still and the knight jumped to the side. He almost fell, but caught himself on one foot which he hopped on.

“And you drink that stuff,” Halfur sneered. He went to the door and entered the inn. Ror followed.