Knock. Knock. Knock.

Autumn gazed up at the mountain range that glittered in a shroud of mist. Cascading waterfalls ran down the ragged crags and into ravines far below to feed back into the mighty river they’d come. Rickety scaffolding of wooden stairs and dangling cranes crept up the sides of the gemstone cliffs towards a series of mines littering the elemental’s corpse like that of a termite mound.

A slight drizzle of rain alighted upon her witch’s hat — condensation from the cavern’s ceiling.

The party of adventurers had landed upon a dock at the riverbank wherein the noise of mining was the loudest. There they’d found a thin trail leading into the dense jungle. Following it had led them through the twisting Fey-jungle and over a myriad of crumbling stone bridges spanning the deep canyons of spiked stones and rushing water to here.

Before the tired adventurers now yawned the entrance of a mine, blacker than night, looking like the entrance to a dark hell.

“Anyone want to enter first?” Liddie joked.

Ignoring the pirate, Autumn stepped up to the entrance of the mine. “Hello! Anyone home?!” she yelled into the deep pit, her voice echoing down for an age.

The knocking stopped.

Footsteps resounded from within the mine.

From the dark came a dim light — candlelight. It bobbed and swayed atop a crude cap as it grew closer. Into the bioluminescent light of the cavern strode a small gnomish man barely scraping past three feet tall. A Coblynau — a mining fae. From a face almost as cracked as the mountainside itself grew a beard as long as he was, curled into a sharp point before it could grace the gem-dusted ground. Pointed elfin ears twitched as a pair of pure black beady eyes squinted at the party. With a tired grunt, the small man rested his pickaxe against the wall of the mine before turning to face them.

A rough, squeaky voice like cracking rocks boomed out of the tiny man.

“It’s about bloody time!”

Autumn blinked, slightly surprised. “You were expecting us?”

The Cobynau grunted. “Of course I was, ya ninnies! Those ghastly pixies wouldn’t stop their hollerin’ about yah! Now come on in, I think I got some tea lying about here somewhere!”

Turning away from them, the gnomish-sized man wandered away towards a small hut built into the side of the tunnel.

Outside, the group shared a look before following him in.

The little man stopped by the tiny door to his home. He looked back at the towering adventurers. “Ah, blast it all! Just hold a second!” he yelled before thumping on the door to his abode. Before the adventurers’ eyes, the miner’s hut shuddered and grew — the wood creaking and groaning as it stretched. Once it’d settled, he threw open the door and beckoned them inside.

“Come! Come! Be welcome, for we have much to discuss.”

Autumn led the way and squeezed herself into the miner’s hut. Behind her, the others swiftly followed — Nethlia still having to duck despite the hut’s increased size.

As Autumn’s eyes adjusted to the candlelit gloom, a cramped interior filled with a horde of junk unveiled itself. Broken equipment from mining picks to swords and armor lay scattered in moldy crates alongside collections of cracked crockery, jars of battered cutlery, and all manner of strange damaged items. Gemdust coated the floor. Looking around, Autumn spotted a set of rickety wooden stairs spiraling up the walls towards an open second floor where the tiny man’s tiny bedroom lay. In the center of the stairwell rose a giant copper flue, the mouth of which yawned above a crackling fireplace.

Careful of the scattered junk, the adventurers picked their way through towards the fireplace and the small table beside it. They sat themselves down wherever they could as the Coblynau busied himself with finding his battered kettle and teas.

“It’s quite alright,” Autumn called out to him, wincing as junk clattered around the room from his search. “We aren’t all that thirsty. We just want to know a few things, then we’ll be out of your hair, as it were.”

“Pish posh! Yer’ve come all this way, ain’tcha? It’s thirsty work trekking up these here hills! And I’d be a poor host iffen I didn’t offer you a drop to wet yer whistle, now wouldn’t I? I ain’t expecting nothing back for it, barring civility, iffen that’s whatcha worried about!” he said with a dismissive wave before cackling. “And I ain’t got no hair for ye to be out of, besides whatcha see on my chinny-chin-chin!”

Taking a cracked teapot, the Coblynau set some strange looking tea leaves to simmer.

‘Banshee?’ Autumn queried her ghost in the sanctity of her mind. ‘Are those leaves fine for us to drink? It won’t lock us into the Fey-realm or kill us, right?”

A startled snort resounded in Autumn’s mind. “What? I was taking a nap, what’s going on,” the banshee asked groggily, before pausing awkwardly. “I mean — Hark, what befalls thee?”

‘......the tea leaves. Are they harmful to us or not?’

“Hmm, alloweth me to investigate. Purple-reddish hue. Infused with elvish spices. Slightly nutty scent. Hints of soothing charm upon it. Yep, it’s Qinnorim Purple,” the banshee said, as if that explained everything.

“I don’t drink tea,” Autumn said in a deadpanned tone. “What does that mean?”

“Philistine,” the banshee snorted. “The tea yond Coblynau doth maketh for thee is of mortal fare the likes of which thee’ll nev’r see again. Not that thee’ll appreciate its sophisticated flavors,” she said in a sulk. “Giveth him the honey thee still has't. While he isn’t expecting aught in returneth for his hospitality, it’s still good manners. Plus, it’ll goeth well with the Qinnorim Purple.”

“Now I’m going to my room. Don’t wake me unless it’s important,” the banshee declared in a huff, slamming shut the connection in spite.

Question marks appeared over Autumn’s head, not sure what she’d done to set off the ghostly fae.

And as the kettle began to scream, Autumn took out the pottle of honey and placed it on the tabletop. “We’d be glad to try some tea; I have some honey that’ll go great with it.”

The Coblynau looked at the honey with interest. “Aye, that it would. Ahh, just let me grab ye all some cups!” they said, before rummaging once more through their kitchen.

Onto the small tabletop clinked a series of battered and chipped mugs, cups, and jars. Into each, he poured a splash of steaming tea and spooned in a dollop of honey. The bright purple liquid swirled gently in the cups.

Seeing the adventurers hesitate, the Coblynau encouraged them. “Go on then! Try it! Oh, but be careful — it’s hot!”

Autumn took her cracked mug in hand, enjoying the warmth. She turned to the others. “It’s ok; it’s just an elvish tea. We can drink it.”

The Coblynau squeaked at hearing her speak in Infernal.

“Ach! I’ve left the rest of yeh out of the conversation! It totally slipped my mind that yah’ll might not all speak the Fey-speech! And I haven’t introduced myself neither — what a poor host I am!” he gave a few tugs on his beard. “I am the knower known as Billix! A pleasure to meet yah!!”

Nethlia gave a bright, professional smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet with you too. We are the Dusk Wolves adventuring party. To many, I am known as the Omen Hammer, captain of this motley crew.”

Knowing that their names couldn’t be told even to the kindest of the fae, Nethlia fell back on her nickname. After all, it was no lie. Not only that, but she named the others in turn.

“Here we have the valorous Kraken Eater.” She gestured to the side where a pirate lounged.

Liddie winked. “Howdy~” she said between sips of her bright tea.

“Beside her is the Brave Chevalier.”

Nelva started at the address, but nodded politely to the gnomish man.

“Then we have the Firestarter.”

Pyre blushed. Her face scrunching up into a pouted scowl. “You light a part of a district on fire one time,” she grumbled under her breath. Nethlia studiously ignored her, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“The bearded fellow next over is the Runelord.”

Edwyn grunted in embarrassment, their tanned cheeks flushing. Yet a smile pulled up the corners of their thick beard. “Howz’t?” they grunt-asked. Billix nodded bemusedly at the question.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Nethlia next dropped her hand atop Eme’s head, ruffling the catgirl’s ears. “This one here’s the Dragonblade Bard.”

Eme blushed.

“And last, but certainly not least, we have the Witch of Fear.”

Autumn glanced askance at her captain. While the name itself did not displease her, she didn’t feel comfortable giving anything more to the fae, any fae. Still, to be polite, she tipped her hat in a nod.

“It’s nice meeting you.”

“Mighty fine names ye all got there! Strange, but fine,” Billix chuckled. “How are ye lot enjoying the Feydark?”

Autumn looked through the steam warming her face. “It’s had its moments. Some trials and tribulations, you could say. But we would rather be on our way home, as we have much to do. We were told you might know a way?”

“Oh? A way out ye’re looking for? Well there are many such holes poked into the worlds as of late. I know of many such crossings ye might take.”

“Specifically, an exit around the abode of the hag known as Mildred the Finger Eater,” Autumn clarified.

“That ol’ hag’s alive still?” Billix questioned her. Seeing her nod, they spat before muttering under their breath. “Pah. I guess we’re in that timeline.” Louder they said, “yeh, I know the way.”

“Are you willing to tell us?” Nethlia asked curiously, quietly sipping from her cracked mug.

Autumn had yet to try her own. She was contenting herself in enjoying its warmth upon her hands and face. A fluffy tail slipped around her waist. Looking over, Autumn saw an exhausted Eme struggling to stay awake. Quietly, she scooted over and let the catgirl rest upon her shoulder. Eme purred.

Across from them, Billix laughed at Nethlia’s question.

“Hehe! Of course I’d tell ya, ya ninnies! Not much point yer all hanging about here. Unless yer all into a spot of mining? No? Pah! I’ll tell ya! I’ll tell ya. But!” Billix exclaimed, leaning over the tiny table towards them, fingers of avarice drumming on the table.

Nethlia didn’t flinch. “Name your price.”

“My price is time!” Billix cackled at the suspicious looks upon their faces. They rocked back in their seat as they laughed. “Just a moment or two! Long enough to drink some tea and listen to a tale I’ve to tell yah.”

Autumn narrowed her eyes. “How much tea? For how long? And how long will this tale take?”

Billix cackled once more. A sharp gleam in their eye. “Wise aintcha? No more time than ye’re willing to give — ye can leave whenever ye want. On the honor of my word. And besides, the tale is one that’ll answer all the questions dancing on the tips of yer tongues. I just donnae want to be interrupted so much; it was annoying last time.”

“Last time?” Eme asked drowsily.

“Never mind that!” Billix waved her off. “Whatcha say?”

The group of wary adventurers looked towards one another, silent conversations passing with a few looks. By now they’d experienced much of the Feywild’s trickery and weren’t so keen on diving back into it.

In the silence, Liddie piped up. “What’s this tale about anyway?”

Billix grinned. “Oh, it’s just about how ye all came to be here. About the twisting of the worlds. In essence? It’s a tale of politics.”

Edwyn and Nelva groaned.

“What do you think?” Nethlia whispered in Autumn’s ear, her hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh.

Flushing, Autumn chewed on her lip before whispering back.

“I don’t know. On the one hand, I’m worried about how long this will take — he might just take the time from us directly if we aren’t careful with the wording. On the other hand, we need the information he has. I don’t know if we could even find the way out on our own. And that’s not even mentioning how we’d get out once we got there.”

“So you’re thinking we should take his deal?”

Autumn glanced across the tiny table at the Coblynau as he steepled his fingers. Coal-black eyes watching on curiously from a wrinkled face. She sensed no malice. However, that was far from conclusive proof that the fae harbored strange designs for them as their minds worked alien to the witch’s own sensibilities. But she was willing to take a chance.

“Yes,” Autumn hesitantly nodded. “But we should clarify that we aren’t giving up our time, just listening to him.”

Nethlia smiled. The Inferni berserker turned her steely gaze towards the tiny gnome-like figure squinting up at her towering form. Even while seated she dwarfed the three-foot Billix. Her voice was firm and resolute as she spoke.

“Alright, Billix the knower. We will listen to your tale for the information we seek. We are not, however, giving you our time. We will only be obligated to listen to you for however long it takes me to drink a mug of tea. Do you agree?”

Billix bounced in their seat. “Oh, yes yes! I ain’t looking to trick nobody, not me! Just got a tale to tell, I do!”

Nethlia grinned. Taking her still steaming mug in hand, she brought it up to her soft red lips. In a single mighty gulp, the muscular demoness downed the entire cup. A belch escaped her in a rush of heat as she placed her cracked mug back down on the tabletop.

“There, the time it took me to drink a mug of tea.”

The Coblynau cackled. “Hah! I didnae see that one coming, did I?! No matter, no matter. I ain’t trying to trick ya anyhow! Now settle yourself in — I gotsa story to tell! Grab yourself a refill if ye like.”

Billix cleared his throat, taking a sip of tea before starting his tale. A voice of ages wove a tapestry for the gathered adventures.

“One could say our tale might start when the shadows first lengthened and the fairy king and queens learnt of spite, but that’d be a long and boring tale. No, our tale starts with a girl. Once, not so long ago, she fell into a place she should not have been and set in course a series of events she should not have. Events that rippled out like a stone cast into a still lake.”

Billix met Autumn’s widening eyes. “Oh yes, that girlie was you!”

“Wha—”

“Hush now! It always takes too long when you interrupt!” Billix barked. “Now where was I? Oh yes, the failed hunt. Chased through the grand woods of the summer, this girlie escaped the hunters of summer’s ilk. She embarrassed them mighty in the courts. Now, this wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but the spurn of a maiden is a hard thing to dismiss. With her heart all a flutter, the Fair Maiden of Summer when gallivanting to the mortal realm and entreated upon a hag to capture yond girlie now turned witch.”

Autumn’s eyes burned, her blood boiled at the mention of the maiden. Why couldn’t she leave her alone? Why did people have to die for this crazed fairy’s designs?

Her thoughts burned.

“Oh yes!” Billix cackled at the steel in the witch’s eyes. “She is the reason the hag even knew about ye! Set her upon ye to draw you from the safety of those iron bound walls, she did!”

A cracked mug creaked in her hands as Autumn etched another grudge into the Fair Maiden’s ledger. She vowed to run the Feywild’s waters red with blood.

Billix grinned. “However, she didnae expect ye to be such a nuisance, did she? With you forcing her pact broken, she was doubly embarrassed. As such, the summer queen was forced to intervene lest she be mocked by the spring king. So, a Wild Hunt was called upon the hag of a thousand pacts and the two worlds were stitched together.” He leant over the tiny table to whisper conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I suspect the spring king had a hand in this whole mess; it’s the kinda scheming nonsense he loves.”

“But why?” Nelva asked, casting a contemplative look at Autumn. “Why would a king go through all this just to provoke this summer queen?”

“Beats me!” Billix laughed.

“Surely you must have some idea?” the Lepus noble knight pressed.

“Why do rulers do anything?! Because they can! Because it’s fun or new!” Billix tugged on their beard in thought. “Hmm, thinking about it, with the summer on the hunt, autumn will come earlier this year. And winter will swiftly follow it — crueler than ever. How this benefits spring, I know not. Perhaps they’ll have a longer time in the next cycle for mischief? Or perhaps he has some designs to play in a long winter? Who knows?!”

Eme perked up from Autumn’s shoulder. Curious as a cat, she asked, “what of autumn? Does it have a ruler as the others do?”

Autumn was getting rather twitchy at how often her name was coming up.

Billix laughed, knowing what he knows. “Nay! None save the empty throne! There are those who hold influence in the harvest court, it goes without saying, but none lay claim to rulership.”

“And who might they be?” Edwyn asked.

“The arch-fey known as the Grandmother holds the most sway in that autumnal court, followed closely by the Pumpkin King. And no, he is not the king of autumn, just of spooks and frights. Beware the hallow nights of autumn when he rides to spook and scare,” Billix cackled. “Other than them, there are a myriad of other arch-fey and the like, along with its own maiden and knight.”

“There are other maidens?” Autumn started, her brows furrowing.

“Oh yes!” Billix chirped. “One knight and maiden for each court and a spare few besides for those not aligned. The spring has the Flower and the Dawn. Summer, the Fair and the Green. Autumn, the Harvest and the Red. And the cold winter has the Snow and the Dusk.”

Clearing her throat, Nethlia gathered everyone’s attention — although she did have to wave off an offer of another tea before she spoke.

“Getting back to the point, what does this mean for us? And how do we get back home to our own plane?”

“I was getting to that!” the Coblynau grumped. “When the two worlds were stitched together it left a seam behind. Think of it like holes in the fabric where the threads weave. One you came in, and one you’ll leave through. Of course there are many more, but those are far beyond either your means or time to reach.”

“And where might the one we want be?” Edwyn asked.

A long wiry arm pointed off to the north towards where the head of the gemstone corpse lay.

“Over thither, beyond the Nasurin, the armpit city.”

Eme giggled at the name. “The armpit city?”

“Funny name, right?” Billix croaked, eyes hard despite the humor. His sudden shift in demeanor unsettled the party, and they shifted awkwardly, their experienced eyes tracking Coblynau’s movements. The small man continued. “Tis not a funny place, however. A mighty drow slave city, it is. The passage of chains, they call it. Built beneath the only pass under the mountain’s arm.”

Eme’s smile drained away.

In an instant, the atmosphere of the room changed. Gone was the relaxed air and in its place crept a grim portent. None here were fond of the slaver ilk. Autumn decided not to mention her nation’s or her world’s past with the practice.

Swallowing her nerves, Autumn asked, “is there no other way past?”

Billix shook his head, long beard wobbling. “None. Going back to circle around the mountain would take too long and yer path home would close. And going over is sure death for the sylphs and harpies take no kindness to others on their cold roosts.”

Autumn grimaced at the news.

With nothing more to ask, she finally took a sip of the tea — it tasted like cinnamon. Down her throat a warmth flowed. The magical tea soothed her aches and pains all the way down to her bones and magical channels.

“What about goin’ under the mount?” Edwyn cut in. “Is there no way throu’?”

It was Billix’s turn to grimace at the idea. “Nay! Nay, I say! There be only one way, and tis too deep, too costly to traverse! Banish it from yer minds! No, the only way I see is through the passage of chains.”

“Great,” Liddie growled. “Just grand!”

Autumn coughed. “Well, look at the bright side — we could restock our supplies in the city at a…….significant discount.”

Liddie grinned. “Yeah, that sounds mighty fine! Not that we'd steal it, no no no!” she added for the Colbynau’s benefit.

“Fuck em’!” Billix yelled. “They enslave by stealing!”

“As opposed to slavery by trickery and bargain?” Pyre quipped sarcastically, a flaming eyebrow raised as she blew on her hot tea. Not cooling it, but heating it to a near boiling.

“Exactly!”

A sigh escaped Autumn, cold like a winter wind. “Fine, I guess we’re passing through the drow city. Now, unless you have anything else to add, we’ll take our leave. It was nice chatting, but we’ve a deadline to meet.”

With nothing more forthcoming from the smaller man — aside from more offers of tea — the adventurers bid Billix a fond farewell. Into the bioluminescent daylight they strode, leaving the shrinking hut and towering mountainside behind.

The pitter patter of rain was the only accompanying sound as they made their way back to the river-dock. Trepidation lay heavy in their hearts and footsteps.

For a slave city awaited.