The horns blew, the banners raised, the ale flowed. The dwarves were out from the dim lit fortress and combed the daybright roads from Thrahnar to Kraglor. It was 40 horizons from the gates of the city to the entrance of the mine, but every step along the way was abundant with market stalls, food vendors, games, entertainers, and travelers.
The five adventurers gazed at the crowded green fields from the stairs of the city, not a blade of grass untrodden. Carriages traveled back and forth full of wealthy tourists while pilgrims began the six day hike to Kraglor. One of the carriages they observed was being led by a familiar bard. He stepped onto the roof of his cart and sang to the crowded streets below.
“I see our patron,” Dalon grumbled. “Let’s go see if he’s ready to take us out of this mess.”
“Remember Dal, he said to have a smile!” Bell pinched his cheeks and forced a grin from his stern face. He rolled his eyes and continued down the stairs. As he neared the dwarf, he could hear his songs.
“Once t’was a fella who sailed the seas and slain them all without a breeze—”
“Bard! We’re ready to go,” Dalon exclaimed.
The small crowd that surrounded the carriage looked at the dwarf stop in the middle of his song. He looked at the steely adventurer and sighed. But he grew a big grin and wrapped up his tune. “—they killed and spilled their guts for free! All for the love, for their tea!”
The crowd pitifully clapped and swiftly dispersed once the bard put away his lute.
“You don’t seem fond of the festivities, human.”
“You don’t seem like you’re holding up your end of the deal, dwarf.”
The bard smirked, “Saying I'm ill of my word, are you? Well, we may go at your leisure, my hardhearted friend.”
“We leave Thrahnar now,” the human said, opening the carriage door and ushering the rest of the party to enter. Each member was sad to enter, but the leather seats and veiled windows were comforting at least. As they rode past, tents varied from armorers, to swordsmiths, to fur traders and jewelers. And a multitude of food stalls swept past their noses. Carts of ale, tents full of sugar and spice, pits and fires that roasted a multitude of foreign meats and jerkies.
Durge and Scoundrel were practically drooling as they stuck their heads out of the window. Bell and Ryder’s eyes sparkled while they saw the performers juggling axes, spitting fire, and casting grand illusions of dragons flying through the air. Dalon sat in the middle of the two entertained pairs, cross armed and tired.
It was hard to judge where they were as the crowds of people and banners flooded the landscape, but Dalon noticed that the cart never turned left, and that the mouth of the valley from whence he came seemed to be getting further and further away.
He immediately banged on the roof of the carriage, “Dwarf! This isn’t the right way! The valley is north!”
“Aye! It is! But Kraglor is to the east! Get comfortable, we have a long journey ahead of us!”
“Dammit. We have to get out of here. Dwarf! We’re jumping out of this carriage whether you like it or not!” Dalon pressed open the door but it slammed back shut against the wind. He was tempted to jump through the window but risked slamming into crowds of people or rolling under the wheels.
“Dal!” Bell yelled, tugging the back of his shirt.
“Don’t be foolish, Dalon. You’ll crack your skull open,” Scoundrel said.
Dalon banged against the door. “Fucking dwarf!” he said, punching the roof of the carriage and slouching back to his seat. The tension within the carriage and the anger that radiated from the party leader was felt by all, but it eased soon after when he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window. As the party leader succumbed to the fate of being forced to celebrate the holiday, he exhaled deeply and gazed longingly out into the day of joy, and soon fell to slumber.
“Look, Dal! Look! Giants!” Bell exclaimed, shaking her exhausted brother. The two giants she pointed out were the same ones seen when they first arrived out of the valley passage. They walked clumsily and awkwardly. One of them spread their legs wide enough along the road to let the carriage drive underneath them.
Dalon looked at the feet of the ‘giant’ and saw wooden pegs attached to flat boards.
“They’re no giants, Iz. Just…” he gazed at the gleam in her eyes that glued to the entertainers and let his sentence fade to the wind. “Nevermind.”
The carriage came to a slow trot and then halted in a field. “My filly needs a rest and I’m sure you all would like a midday meal. Go stretch your legs and seek some joy!”
Dalon had to have been pulled from the carriage by Bell before he stepped outside. He was shoved and dragged by his sister to one stall to the other, perusing one colorful oddity to the next. Scoundrel slithered through the crowd and vanished without a trace.
“Reminds me when summer first begins on the coast,” Ryder said.
Durge groaned and stretched as he exited, “I’m dying for something sweet.”
Through the crowds of children and the harks of game masters, Bell forced Dalon to play games of strength, races, and tossing challenges. He mumbled and grumbled his entire way through, but a faint smile grew on his face whenever he saw Bell’s grin and heard her laughs of amusement whenever he competed.
Durge was stuck in an arduous line for rock candy while Ryder observed the contesting magicians. Beams of light, fire, lightning, and shadow casted into the air before a more spectacular display of magical prowess overshadowed the other. The ones that casted ‘natural illusions’ with sleight of hand tricks and invisible threads had their own small audience.
“That’ll be 10 silver, sir,” the food vendor said.
“10 silver!?” Durge said, surprised at how expensive it was. He slapped a grimey gold coin onto the stall and requested another, not wanting to bother to convert his change. With two colorful sticks of shimmering sugar rock, he went to Ryder who was standing in a crowd of other onlookers that gazed at the wooden obstacle course that was recently unveiled.
“Come one, come all! The obstacle course of the century is now ready for participants!” the host shouted.
Durge offered a choice between the two flavors, “Do you want Lingering Lenk or Cheerful Cherry?” Ryder was startled when he heard his friend’s voice but chose the cherry stick without hesitation.
“What’s going on here?” Durge asked, taking a crunch out of the sour candy.
“Guy is choosing volunteers to go through the obstacle course.”
“On that rickety thing? Looks like they built it last night.”
The obstacle course was a narrow wooden platform with dull swinging axes on a pendulum, pegs that rotated from cranking gears, and a net that surrounded the course to prevent injuries.
“Make it to the end and take to your abode a secret that no one else may have.” The crowd oohed and awed at the chest with the mysterious prize and raised their hands in a fury. Two wood elves, four dwarves, a scale, and a feather-beast were all chosen as participants.
“C’mon, Rye, show them what a human can do,” Durge said, nudging him.
Ryder scoffed, “No way am I getting my teeth knocked out for some unknown prize.” While he said that, one of the elves was slammed in the head by one of the rotating poles and slung back into the netting. A group of dwarves cheered when the elves were knocked over but quickly winced once their own dwarven brethren failed the challenge.
Before the beasts climbed the stairs, a figure in a dark cloak and hood sprinted past them. With remarkable speed, they dodged the first slow-swinging axe, slithered through the sequence of quick-rotating pegs, and lastly, evaded the scare of a pyromancer’s flame. As they reached the steps of the final platform and gazed at the chest in front of them, the mixture of cheers, whistles, claps, boos, and groans roared from the crowd. The cloaked figure took the entire chest in their grasp, dived into the audience, landed with a roll, and disappeared.
The host and rest of the crew were bewildered and frozen, “Hopefully the mysterious acrobat will return for the key!” the host dryly laughed. The audience left with no delay when he started asking for donations.
“Huh. Maybe it was a human who won the prize.”
Ryder took the last bite of crystals from his candy, “I think I know where we might find them.”
Scoundrel was in the bard’s carriage, prying the lid of the chest with his dagger. He was cursing and grunting when Ryder and Durge arrived.
“It was you!?” Durge exclaimed.
Ryder laughed, “I knew I saw a tail under that cloak!”
The startled ferret tucked the chest close to him, “I won it fair and square, plainskins!”
“What’d you win!?” Bell chimed from afar. “Dal won me plenty of things!” Her brother’s arms were full of handmade dolls, flowers, and wood-carved animals. He dumped the prize-winnings on the carriage floor. “These ones are for you!” Bell handed a small wooden figurine of a bear to Durge and a greyhound to Ryder. She was about to hand another to Scoundrel but the beast refused.
“I have my own reward here, worth more than anything we carry combined,” he said with gritted teeth, still prying open the chest. With a snap from the blade of Korif’s dagger, the lock of the chest ripped from the wood, and the rest of the party surrounding him, Scoundrel slowly opened to see the treasure within.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Although hollow on the inside and void of any coins, there was a scroll of parchment, bound and tied. The beast cut the knot with his claw and unfurled it with a fanged grin. But as his eyes met the scroll, only sorrow was given to him.
“Damn the gods!” he said, throwing the parchment on the ground. Ryder picked up the crumpled paper and muttered the note aloud to the rest of the party. “‘Congratulations on completing the Trials of Pain! For your prize, you shall receive any marked item in Galdro’s Curiosities, in the marbled-city of Melody, for free!’ Well, it's no kiss from a maiden but it's something.”
“Yeah, if we’re ever going north to the fucking desert!” Scoundrel snarled, feeling his broken blade.
Ryder stuffed the note and the figurine into his satchel and thanked Bell for the gift. As the party awaited their driver, he soon came with a basket full of steaming food. It smelt of spice and fresh meat. He passed the cloth-wrapped food to each member of the party. They unwrapped it and saw a golden-brown, palm-sized, plump disk of fried meat.
“It’s called krooba! A dwarven travel delicacy! Beef, allspice, and pine nuts.” He took a bite and savored every chew. Ryder took a hesitant bite, surprised at the moist hollow interior, and enjoyed the simple snack. Durge had already finished the dwarven dish and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“It’s a little too plain for me. It’s just a meat patty with a weird texture,” Bell said, offering the rest of hers to Scoundrel.
The bard shook his head, “Outlanders never seem to appreciate dwarven craftsmanship. But alas, we have more travel ahead of us. We’ll reach Kraglor after midday tomorrow.”
Dalon groaned but the rest of the adventurers were content for more days to celebrate. The doors were closed and the small mare continued its trot down the dwarven road. Bright summer skies shone down upon the black and purple carriage, but the cool breeze flowing through the windows made it a pleasant journey to the mines.
As evening fell, they drove through a bustling town. Flowers covered the streets while colorful banners that strung across the rooftops flapped in the wind. Music and cheers echoed throughout each building, and the people left in the streets were bumbling drunks that joyfully danced with one another.
Ryder leaned his head against the window, watching the pilgrims pass by. He noticed a bright tent with a line full of dwarves awaiting to be poked with permanent ink on their shoulders. The sounds of pain were heard a horizon away.
“Why do dwarves get their shoulders inked?” he asked the bard.
“Why? You want one?” he laughed. “Every dwarf who cares about their lineage gets one. Been happening for generations.”
“Do you have one?” Ryder asked.
The bard uttered a single chuckle, “Nay. Don’t have a lineage I much care for. Maybe I’ll start my own and later in life my children can pass it on.”
“What’s the ink of? A family crest?”
“Sort’o. You’re supposed to get one of a family gem, heirloom, or craft your family is known for. I’ve seen chairs, tables, jewels, mugs, barrels… anything a hearty dwarf could make with their own hardened hands. I’ve recently seen an inclination in families inking food onto themselves. But…” the dwarf shook his head. “Not for I.”
“What about songs? Or an instrument?” Ryder suggested.
The dwarf acknowledged with a nod, the thought brewed in silence as he pulled the cart to the side of the road and made camp. The party soon followed and rested under the stars with their own tents and blankets of linen or wool.
“The year is now halfway over,” Bell said.
The bard stretched his arms out as he sat in the driver’s seat. “Indeed. Now we wait until the month of Hexan for the leaves to fall.”
“Doesn’t the Guild Hall host some type of festival next month?” Dalon asked.
“You mean ‘Quest Day?’ Aye, they do,” Scoundrel said with a yawn.
The day was like the one that came before: the passing of pilgrims, the wealthy wagons, and the families traveling to and from the magnificent mines at the end of the road.
The wide rustic bridges that crossed the rivers were adorned with a variety of kites and flags. Designs of dragons, birds, gems, and coins fluttered with the summer breeze. Ryder found it peculiar to see living sweeps being used as decor as well, they were tied and staked to the ground, a comical but sad life for the creatures of the sky.
Many horizons were spent driving, with the occasional rest for the horse and stretching breaks for the passengers. In the late afternoon, the boulders of Kraglor were seen in the distance. A great mountain that reached the heavens surrounded by loose rocks and treeless fields. As they neared closer, the crowds and lines of people from the entrance were as dense as ants on a hill.
The bard pulled the carriage to the side of the road and started unloading his camping supplies. “Best to find a place now before it gets even more crowded. I suggest being near the rivers to the north.” The adventurers stretched and groaned from the long journey but were excited to arrive at long last.
“C’mon, let’s all find a good spot!” Bell said.
A campsite was found and the tents were secure. Although many other tents dotted the surrounding fields, the area they claimed seemed secluded with few trees acting as a barrier. Soon after, they all lined up for the mine, finally able to enter in the evening.
“Let’s hope it's worth it, Irid praised this place highly,” Durge said.
Scoundrel rubbed his paws together, “I pray that the ground is scattered with loose gems you can pick from the floor.”
The party was lined in the rustic doorway, the summer sun shone too bright to see in the total darkness of the mines, but as the line moved forward, the sparkling white stone began to shimmer. A stone wall 20 steps tall covered with jutting crystals. The dim torchlight held by guides made the shards refract onto the cavern floor, producing scattered white beams of light.
The dwarven guide stopped a section of the line and raised his pickaxe high. “Welcome to the mines of Kraglor! The only mine to uncover the starstone! Brittle as glass! Bright as the sun! Continue onward and gaze upon the treasures of Thrahnar!”
It was hard for anyone to gaze upon the beauty of the starstone, as even in the darkest of chasms the faintest light that entered the crystal would be blinding to the eye once it refracted. The line of tourists shuffled forward with palms covering their view. Sounds of metal against stone echoed through the hollow chambers.
Dwarven miners cracked away at the surrounding stone, a barren wall surrounded by spikes of shining crystals. The workers wore padded tunics and tinted spectacles created from smoky quartz. They chipped, chiseled, and crushed the plain wall that encased the starstones. If one was accidentally struck, it fell into hundreds of fragments like a shattered window.
“Strike the earth like the rock splitters of old! But be wary of the gems’ points and the light, ‘less you wish to be starstruck and have your krunts burned,” the guide said.
“What’s a krunt? Sounds dirty,” Durge whispered.
“It means your eyes, oaf!”
The group was led deeper into the mines, down winding steps, and through narrow passages. Scoundrel resisted every urge in his beast-like body to snap off the crystals from the walls and make a run for it, instead, focusing on his hatred for dusty tunnels and bright lights. Bell’s glistening eyes fell upon every refraction, she ran her hand through a beam, tempted to stare into it before being pulled by her brother. Dalon was exhausted, but impressed with the natural minerals and the meticulous dwarven strikes of stone to not shatter the crystals.
Going down the spiral stairs led to a large cavernous room of natural stone. A dim glow hung from the ceiling, vibrant blues, purples, greens, and reds of bioluminescent spider silk touched the starstones, refracting a spectacular prism of color that painted the walls and floor of the room as if the summer sun casted down a rainbow onto a hoard of gems and jewels.
The guide halted them from exploring the field of brittle crystals, “Feast your eyes upon the beauty of our mines! Only found because of our great strength, ingenuity, and love for all things the mother mountains conceive! As a token for your travels, patience and manners, I gift upon you your very own starstones!” The guide reached into the hefty pouch adorned to his belt and gave each group member a handful of shattered starstone. Fragments varied in weight and size, but still bright enough to damage the retina if one stared at the light that entered them.
All five adventurers were infatuated with their crystals as they were guided to the exit, the orange glow of dusk shimmered in their palms.
“Come on, Dal, don’t stare at it too long. You heard what the guide said,” Bell smirked.
Dalon was captivated with his handful of broken crystals, he smiled once he became self-aware.
“Admit you had fun already!” she exclaimed, shoving him.
Dalon rolled his eyes and shoved her back, “You’re the one that almost became ‘starblind’ or whatever.”
The bard shouted at the group from his nearby campsite, ushering them to come over. “How were the ‘great mines of Kraglor?’ Everything you wished for? Dreamed of? I see you all have your pinches of starstone, secure it well so I don’t have to pick up all those little fragments in the floorboards of my carriage.”
“I’m assuming we’re leaving in the morning? You already have a camp set up,” Ryder said.
“Nay! We leave tonight! Mid-Year still has more to give.”
“Like what? More gems?” Durge asked.
Scoundrel perked his head up, before going back to preening and picking out the best looking pieces of starstone.
“Oh-ho, not quite. We’ll see soon enough. In the meantime, get your camps and a bonfire ready.”
Confused at the dwarf’s words, the party did as he asked. They set up their tents near the river bank, created a ring of stones, gathered a pile of sticks for the fire, and rolled loose logs for seating. Sparkling stars appeared in the twilight sky, twinkling like their crystal counterparts.
Their driver, entertainer, and guide for the holiday pulled out bottles of dwarven wine as well as baskets of cheese and fruits. “Acquired these through a wonderful trade from a drunken noble. Didn’t even have to perform a full song before they fell to slumber!”
Scoundrel struggled to bite the cork off the bottle while Bell arranged platters of snacks for everyone. “What’s your name anyway? You’ve done so much for us and yet we know not your name,” she inquired.
The bard chuckled, “I am Valok, pleased to meet you all.”
“I’m Bell, nice to mee—”
Valok shook his head, “I already know each of your names. Bell, Dalon, Ryder, Burge, and Scoundrel.”
“It’s Durge!” Burge exclaimed from afar.
A bellyful of wine and finger-food filled the companions. They were laughing as Valok told tales of his failed performances until a distant hiss was heard across the river, he quickly hushed the group and waited to see the faint red spark shooting into the sky. The party viewed the faint glow rising into the stars, it eventually faded into nothing, before erupting into a massive explosion of color.
The chants of cheers and hollers sang through the valley from surrounding campsites. Another faint light appeared in the air, and another loud pop of colorful embers filled the night sky. A third, a fourth, and a fifth went off. Then they became more frequent. Fired from different locations. Colors that changed as they sparkled downward to the green fields. The explosions neared closer and closer, becoming right overhead the group.
A figure walked into the light of the bonfire, the party looked over and recognized the stranger, for it was the stone elf that drove them through the valley. She smirked at the party before raising her wand to the sky, firing the same red spark that ignited into a ball of colorful embers. She walked onward without a word.
“And to think I held that in my grasp,” Scoundrel said, looking at his empty paws.
Ryder, Durge, Bell, and Dalon stared into the black space above. The fireworks reflected off the blue rivers and snow-tipped mountains, enshrouding the dwarven area in a spectrum of colors on the moonless night. After the embers above vanished with the wind, it left the smell of ash and smoke.
The entertainment continued as multiple mages casted their own spells of grandeur. Ryder sat on the bank of the river, his legs dipped into the cold flowing water as the rest of the group passed around the bottle and listened to Valok’s tales.
“Do you mind if join you?” Bell asked.
Ryder gestured for her to sit, she dipped her legs into the cold water and winced.
“How can you stand this?” she said with a grimace.
Ryder chuckled, “You get used to it. Did you enjoy your Mid-Year?”
Bell nodded, “Probably one of the best ones I had. I’ve never traveled outside of Fellaway for a holiday before.” She looked back at Dalon and the rest of the boys, they were laughing so hard at Valok that tears fell from their eyes. A great smile grew across Bell’s face, “It’s nice to see him happy for once… Thank you, Rye,” she said, before kissing his cheek.
Ryder turned as red as the magic explosions above. “It was more of a team effort,” he stuttered.
Bell took her legs out of the river, shivering as she wrapped herself tight with her cloak. The magics fired into the sky soon dissipated, and with it the party had to enter the carriage. Dalon had to be carried inside while Durge and Scoundrel propped each other up.
Valok tapped the horse with his reins, “Alright, adventurers, off to Maria. And please don’t retch inside my wagon, I just had it scrubbed!” The bells of Thrahnar chimed a simple but elegant song that echoed off the mountainsides. And with a slow trot, the mare carried the companions down the valley road, and onward to the city-state of Maria.