1.02

The tavern was full of vibrant life, loud music, and sweet smells. Fenrick had the feeling this tavern was one of the main things to do for anyone that lived here.

Scrap pieces of timber thrown together with rope and bolts made up the wobbly furniture of the fine dining establishment. Tucked away in a dark corner stood a cobwebbed, stuffed black bear. It was missing an eye.

The source of the beautiful music came from a lute played by a rock goblin. A mixture of browns and oranges with stalagmite-like ears, the goblin smoked a coal cigar which flared bright every time he breathed.

The song lilted through the air like expensive silk and Tad swayed her head in perfect rhythm. Tad always enjoyed music, something Fenrick had never been able to give her.

“I think it’s a little too crowded for this.” Sharampf pressed a button and her contraption whizzed away into a backpack.

“That’s handy,” remarked Bodwyn. His ears twitched as he scanned the room.

“Thanks, I made it myself.” The four of them were led to a table by a grungy looking man with puffy ears, he moved a seat away for Tad to join them at the table.

“Glayda said drinks are on the house. We’ve been having problems with Hank and his gang for a while now. All of Cobbleson has.”

“What kind of problems?” Fenrick asked.

“They started as just a group of local misfits. Never really did anything too dangerous. But some streak of nastiness has really overcome Hank lately. He’s been getting some real thugs following him around now. It’s gone from loitering and a little pickpocketing to property damage and intimidation.”

“I’ll have a whiskey thanks,” said Bodwyn. His eyes and ears darted everywhere. Fenrick noticed that as a drunken patron walked by, Bodwyn had grabbed something from their wrist and pocketed it. Fenrick sighed to himself.

“I don’t usually get a chance to drink, what do you recommend?” Sharampf asked.

“We do a mean mulled wine. Glayda’s own grandmother came up with the recipe.”

“Then I’ll try one of those, please.”

“Certainly. And you sir?” the waiter turned to Fenrick.

“Do you do any kind of tea?” Fenrick asked.

“We do buy the stuff occasionally when merchants come through. Should still have some, not many folks want that when they come to a tavern. Do you want me to see what we’ve still got first?”

“That’s okay, just pick whatever one smells the nicest. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

“Fair enough. Gimme a min?” An awkward moment’s silence was shared at the table when the waiter toddled off.

“So, what brings you two to Cobbleson? Very small backwater kinda place, ain’t it? You don’t see much magitech round these parts.” Bodwyn was looking at them now, apparently none the wiser that Fenrick had noticed him pickpocketing.

“I’m just passing through, actually. I’m travelling Gamerrah to advertise my invention and to secure more funding for more projects.” Sharampf leaned forward in her chair as the waiter returned with the drinks. She grabbed the mug with both hands and closed her eyes as she took a sip.

“Can’t you get funding from one of the academies?” Fenrick asked.

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“Unfortunately…no. They don’t seem to take a liking to my inventions, so it’s up to me. What about you Bodwyn, why are you at Cobbleson?” asked Sharampf.

“Passing through as well. Wanting to make money. I was thinking of becoming an adventurer actually,” Bodwyn took a mouthful of his whiskey.

“I get a feeling you could always find a way to make money. What makes you want to be an adventurer? It can be pretty dangerous.” Fenrick sipped his tea. A slight cinnamon spice crept in underneath the hints of lemon. Fenrick took another sip and looked at Bodwyn. The waiter returned with a bowl of water for Tad without even being asked.

“Oh, for sure, money can be made anywhere. But to become a legendary adventurer would be awesome. Fame. Rewards. Money.” Bodwyn’s eyes glazed over.

“You seek fortune and glory?” Fenrick asked.

“Everybody wants money.” Bodwyn smirked at Fenrick.

“Why are you here at Cobbleson, Fenrick?” Sharampf asked.

“To get away from the crazy, overcrowded, loud and obnoxious life that is Dawn’s Ledge.” Fenrick’s wearied tone had resurfaced, and he stopped paying attention to Bodwyn.

The three of them sat in awkward silence for close to twenty minutes. Fenrick bid goodnight, paid for a room, and ascended the stairs with Tad in close step behind him.

Fenrick sat on the bed and smiled at the rumbling engine that was a snoring Tad. He looked at his dear, old companion. They’d been together for a long time, seen war and saved each other’s lives more than could be counted.

“Maybe this could be the quiet place we hide away till life passes us by, old friend?”

Fenrick lifted a hidden chain from around his neck. On the chain was a locket and within the locket was a worn picture.

The picture showed three figures. A much younger Fenrick, his moustache primed with glory. Next to him was his wife, an ice goblin. The way the light danced within her ice-crystal hair was the first thing Fenrick had noticed about her. Between them was the widest smile Fenrick had ever seen. A little girl, about five. She had pale blue skin like her mother, but brown hair like her father.

Fenrick twisted the now tarnished, but still magical ring, on his left hand. He snapped the locket shut and tucked it away.

His wife had the ring made so Fenrick could withstand the cold aura that emanated from her body. It worked so well; Fenrick could walk in the snow without appropriate clothes.

As he sat against the thick wooden headboard, Fenrick could feel his knee begin to flair up. It was like having a thousand tiny needles roll around his joint.

“Gonna rain tomorrow, Tad, real heavy.” His knee flared with the pain of a thousand tiny needles, and he let out a sigh as he rested against the timber bedhead.

It took a long time, but the gnome finally fell asleep, still wearing his breastplate. It had been a fixture for so long, it was uncomfortable if he didn’t wear it.

Sharampf and Bodwyn stayed up a while later, drinking and talking more.

“I got a map here, you see,” said Bodwyn. He was on his fourth whiskey and as far as he was concerned, everything that came out of his mouth was pure eloquence.

“Let’s see it then.” Sharampf was only on her second wine.

Bodwyn reached into his satchel. Sharampf raised an eyebrow when she saw that he went shoulder deep into such a tiny bag. After a few more moments, he brought out a rolled-up parchment.

“That bag looks like it would be handy,” said Sharampf.

“It, definitely, is. I’ve bought a few little handy things while on my adventures.” Bodwyn unfurled the map.

On it was an archipelago of thirteen islands south-east of Gamerrah. Only some were named, but most weren’t. A large black ‘X’ was on the second last southernmost island.

“This is where a great treasure is said to be. Been around since before the Sundering.” Bodwyn pointed about on the map, his words had started to slur.

“Where did you get this map?” Sharampf asked in a hushed tone. She gave a quick glance around the tavern but was certain nobody was eavesdropping.

“Stole it off some guy at Juniper Hill. He was absolutely blasted and was bragging about having a map for some ancient, hidden treasure.” Bodwyn’s voice grew louder the more he spoke.

“Kind of like what you’re doing right now. Keep it down,’ snapped Sharampf.

“What?” Bodwyn looked startled.

“People might be listening in. People might do what you did. I think its time you went to bed.”

“Nah, I’m okay.” Bodwyn ordered another whiskey, but Sharampf led him up the stairs before he was served.

Sharampf dragged Bodwyn to his bed and laid him on his side. She backed out and shut the door.

Sharampf walked past Fenrick’s room and smiled as she heard a rumbling snore.

“Such a loud noise for such a little guy.” She entered her room and locked the door behind her.

Sharampf laid her things on her bed with meticulous care, then she brought out Bodwyn’s bag.

She pushed her arm deep into the bag and could feel there were all sorts of things in there. She pulled the map out after a few minutes and unfurled it.

Of all the maps she had seen of Gamerrah, she had never seen the island that was marked on the map.

After studying the map for what seemed like forever, she put it back in the bag and fell asleep holding onto Bodwyn’s bag.