It was dawn and the mornin’ was shinin’ brightly on our faces through the tattered curtain hangin’ off our window. I rubbed the sleep outta me eyes and looked over ta me fiancée, Brund, still fast asleep on ‘is back, a leg danglin’ off the bed and a hand on the hilt of ‘is sword.
“Hey, Brundy, ‘tis time ta wake up now, love, we gotta a lot to do,” I nudged him gently. He just laid there, oblivious to me voice and me nudges.
“Hey, wake up you sod! We hafta ride ta the Glade today and if we don’ leave soon we could be ridin’ all night, so c’mon ya lug.” I tried to shove ‘im off the bed, with no luck at all as he jus’ stayed there and kept snorin’. I’ve never been much of a mornin’ person meself and I was getting’ right frustrated with ‘im. But I decided I’d give it one more try. I leaned in to him and nuzzled up against his cheek, his scruffy beard scratchin’ at me nose and ticklin’ a bit. I ran a finger under his chin, playin’ with the cleft a bit as I whispered into his ear, “Hey Brundy, darlin’, if ye git up it might jus’ be worth yer while,” and planted a few small light kisses on ‘is face.
Nothin’. I tried me best, at least I thought so, and this las’ time jus’ left me feelin’ more frustrated than ever. How a man can sleep so heavily I’ll never understand, but if I canna be sleepin’ right now then neither should he! I closed me eyes lightly and began ta feel the energy in the air, focusin’ on the tinglin’ sensation swirlin’ about me hands and pullin’ it inside. Me hands tickled and warmed as a small reserve of energy pooled in me. I opened me eyes and walked to the bed where he was sleepin’ and reached out for him, lettin’ a small bit o’ lightenin’ escape me finger tip and zapped him on the tip of his nose. He jumped right up, exactly what I wanted!
“Argh, wuzz goin’ on? Where’s the fight at?!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at him as he swatted ‘round his face in the air at nothin’. A bit of his hair was standin’ up frizzed. I might have used a bit too much power judgin’ from the slightly singed bit of mustache, and hoped he didn’t notice it much. Unfortunately fer me, he did.
“Woss tha’ smell? Smell’s like somethin’s burnin’. Trixx, you smell that? Are the Gedlo attackin’ again?”
“Umm, no, no goblin’s jus’ yet, Brund. ‘Ere, wash the sleep outta yer eyes and wake yerself up jus’ a bit more,” I says, handin’ him a warm wet cloth from the wash basin.
“Well what woss it lass? Mussa been sumpin’ ta bring me outta such a dream..”
“Well, I don’t right know, but I’m glad ta see yer awake now, dear,” I lied. I didn’t have the ‘eart to tell ‘em it were me, it was too early to start ‘im off lecturin’ me about ‘control’ and ‘discipline,’ ‘is two favorite subjects. “Are ya hungry, love? We kin’ head to the pub an’ grab a bite ta nosh on before we ride out ta tha Glade.”
“Aye, a good ‘earty breaffast sounds right good ‘bout now. Hey Trixx, does my mustache look singed to ya? Did I do that lass night?”
I grabbed my pack after strappin’ me boots on quickly and looked to him, tryin’ hard to hold back a giggle. “No it looks fine, dear, you muss still be a bit sleepy. C’mon, less go get somma to eat.”
I tossed him his pack and headed down the stairs to the tavern. It was a different looking place this mornin’ than it were last night. What was then a bustlin’ and busy pub with a rowdy bunch of locals was now a quiet little inn with plenty of open tables. I found us a spot jus’ off tha side along the wall and plopped into one o’ the big wooden chairs and ordered us a round of black coffee with some toasted rolls, sausages and eggs. When we lived back home, Mum used ta cook a big spread every week for us, full o’ sausages and livers, eggs in three ways, with breads and honey and all the wonderful fruit we could get from the forest on our mountain. Today we ‘ad ta settle fer what we could git from the taverns and pubs we came across as we journeyed.
The tavern keeper came out with the coffee right away and I was thankful fer it. Brund was still upstairs and I hoped he hadn’t gone back ta sleep. I sat there waitin’ fer him, stairin’ into me mug and watchin’ the water as I stirred it. We’d been ridin’ a couple o’ days and it were nice ta finally sleep in a bed, but it did little fer me sore muscles. I hated ridin’, I really did. But we was on a mission, as Ascended Guardians, an’ we had ta git ta the Glade. When we were ascended, there was fightin’ goin’ on all ‘round us. Regulos was pushin’ ‘is way inta the world an’ thos’ dirty Defiant’s was fightin’ against us. Brund and I managed to defeat Regulos, sorta, but I dunno if dyin’ can count as a win or not. But, here we are, livin’ again in tha same world, jus’ different.
We ‘ave no home anymore. Our dwarven lands in tha mountains bein’ destroyed in that Great War along with many of our own kin and friends. Me family is all gone. Brund an’ I are all we have left from our before-life, and I’m grateful to ‘ave ‘im by me side. Brund was one o’ the finest warriors our army ever ‘ad and he fought hard servin’ us well. He’s a great protector fer me, too, bu’ sometimes I think he worries too much. Since we’ve been ascended I’ve noticed we’re a bit stronger than we was before. Jus’ like tha land, we’re the same but different. I think he know’s it, too, but it still don’ stop ‘im from over-protectin’ me.
I don’t know that it matters much and it’s too early in the mornin’ fer me ta be overthinkin’ things. We need ta ride to the Glades and speak ta the Steward of Argent Glade, a man named Brougan Grote. While we was out defendin’ the forest against the mischievous fae we found an artifiact with an odd sort of engravin’ on it. I’m not sure what it means, if it means anythin’ anymore, but the people we’ve run across all told us ta take it ta the Glade and let the Steward sort it out. When I think back ta all the torment and misery these people have gone through, it pains me ‘eart ta think tha’ there can be more at work in this ancient woods than the battle between the Defiants and the Guardians and the threat of Regulos.
It’s such a small little thing, about the size of a large acorn, it fits almost me entire palm. It’s smooth ta the touch and it looks quite worn. I don’ recognize tha engravin’s on it at all, but then again I was never tha’ good in me Elvish language studies. But that’s not the odd part about this little piece of wood; when I roll it between me fingers and play with it in me hands, I can feel an energy to it. It’s elemental, sort of, but I canna make it out. The energy pulses in me ‘ands and gets stronger the more I hold it. I donna think I like the way it makes me feel, it’s so different than the energy I feel from the air and the storms.
“Mornin’ love!” Brund tells me as he pulls up a chair opposite me, snappin’ me from my concentration on tha stone.
“G’mornin’ yerself, sleepy!” I says back ta him, tuckin’ the little wooden stone back in me pack.
“Ye ain’t lookin’ at tha’ lil’ wooden thing again, are ye? I told ye it were no good elven magic and ye shouldn’t be goin’ stickin’ yer nose in places it don’ belong!” He looked a bit agitated at me, but then he always was a bit grumpy when he firs’ get’s up in the morn’. Fortunately, the tavern keeper had returned with breakfast and a second cup and poured the hot black liquid for Brund.
Ignoring his question, I picked at me eggs a bit as they valiantly tried ta overcome the greasy puddle they swam in. “I hope ya don’ mind I took tha liberty ta gettin’ us sausages an’ eggs fer breakfast. It’s not like home, bu’ it’ll hafta do, eh?” It was very much nothin’ like home at all. The tin plate were covered in grease from the fatty sausages and the eggs looked a bit burned. Thankfully, there were always a piece of toast to sop it up. Brund didn’t seem ta mind at all, taking big bites from the food in fron’ of him.
“So I was thinkin’ ‘bout what the old man said yesterday on the road. He said we can find the Steward in Argent Glade and show ’im the stone. I took a look at me map and I think if we can leave soon, we can make it there before dusk, maybe. What do ye think?”
He looked up a’ me with a mouth full o’ sausage and toast, wipin’ his mouth with the back o’ his hand before replyin’ back ta me. “Sounds good ta me, s’long as we know the way. I feel funny runnin’ through this woods with all this faerie stuff about.” He crinkled his nose up at that and took another gulp of his coffee, emptyin’ it and gesturin’ for the tavern keeper ta bring us more.
“Aye, there’s certainly a different feel ta these woods than the mountains. But ye got ta remember, Brund, this fores’ ‘as been ‘round almost as long as our mountains, maybe longer. “ I stopped a moment at that thought, feelin’ a bit sick ta me stomach. It migh’ have been the indigestion settlin’ in from breakfast or the sinkin’ feelin’ I get when I think abou’ home. I took a deep breath and pushed me plate away from me.
“Ye feelin’ alrigh’, lass?”
“Yeah, jus’ a bit nauseous, me appetite jus’ ain’t with me today is all.”
“Suit yerself then,” he said as he picked off the sausages left on me plate. “Ye dunno when yer next hot meal migh’ be, love, s’always best ta eat up when ye can. Ol’ lesson I learned in tha army. Tha’ and eat fas’, taste later, even tho the cookin’s usually so bad yer glad ye can’t taste it when ye eat it. “
I groaned inside. Watchin’ him eat was a disgustin’ display sometimes and I wanted ta be done with breakfast and be on our way to tha Glades.
“I think ye’ve had plenty, Brundy. C’mon, let’s start ridin’ while it’ still early out.” I grabbed me pack and tossed a few coins on the table for the tavern keeper, glancin’ a thankful look his way as I walked out tha door.
As much as I hated ta ride, I had to admit I did like me horse, Butters. We got the horses when we firs’ came to in the ol’ church. I don’ clearly remember the exchange, Brund had taken care of it as I was wakin’ from the fog o’ death. Bu’ he’s a good steed with a good disposition and he seems to ride well, despite my lack of a basis of comparison. Brund ‘ad told me once tha’ horses can sense yer nervousness and ye can’t let ‘em know ye don’t feel secure in the saddle. The firs’ time I got on Butters I was so scared, but he kept a calm ‘bout him and seemed ta know I wasn’t real keen on the idea of ridin’ a beast ten times my size.
I found our four-legged friends outside, tied to a tree close by and eatin’ a pile o’ hay left fer them by the tavern keeper, as we requested. I let Butters keep eatin’ as I put on his tack and equipment, saddlin’ him up fer a long day’s ride. He nuzzled me face as I worked, his long face warm on my cheek. When we were ready to mount up, I sighed and tried ta lead Butters to a close rock. Mounting was never easy fer me, and I think ‘tis the biggest reason I ‘ate ridin’ as much as I do. When yer as short as me, it’s little things like this that cause more problems than ye think. I look ta Brund, pleadingly, as Butters shifted his weight from leg ta leg.
“Brundy, I need yer help again!” He walked over, chucklin’ at me and gave me a lift.
“There ye go, my little lass!”
‘I might be short, but I’m not so little anymore,’ I thought ta meself, wishin’ I had said something clever.
Brund led the way through the forest leavin’ Butters and I to follow him down the paths, winding around giant ancient oaks and coursin’ o’er deep ravines cut by the small streams. The forest was covered almost entirely by a canopy o’ leaves, blockin’ the invadin’ sunlight from reachin’ the very bottom of the forest floor. A pungent musk filled the air from tha different plants and various critters makin’ their home here. We rode and rode, deeper inta the forest, a chilly breeze washin’ past us from time to time. The trip was rather uneventful; it felt strange not to encounter another person or creature on our way. It also took us much less time than I thought it would ta get to the Glade. We must’ve arrived around midday as the hustle and bustle of the little village dominated the quiet stillness of the forest.
We hopped off our horses and walked them into town, my derrierre grateful for the break from the saddle. I don’ think Butters minded me much, but seemed content to walk along me side, ‘is heavy hooves clappin’ on the cobblestoned streets. We seemed a bit out of place, Brund and I, in the Glade. Since Silverwood was originally home to the elves and Mathosians, dwarves were certainly not common ‘round here. Everythin’ seemed so big ta me – the steps, the signs, the people! I let Brund lead the way into town as I gawked with wide eyes at everythin’. There was a little market we passed sellin’ some kind of fruit or veg, I couldn’t tell, but the woman buyin’ was puttin’ on such a fit o’er the price. They stopped in mid-conversation as we passed and watched us go. Stopping in his tracks, Brund turned to tha merchant and addressed him brusquely, “We be lookin’ fer the Steward of Argent Glade, can ye help a couple o’ foreigners by pointin’ tha way?”
The merchant looked him up and down, and in a snarky voice replied, “I don’t know where you’re from nor do I care! I have a business to run and don’t have time to make idle chit-chat with some dwarf riff-raff.”
“The cuss you are callin’ us riff-raff! Do you ‘ave any idea who we are and what we’re ‘ere ta do?!” Brund grabbed me arm just before I was ready to prove to this man we were not some low-life riff-raff and beckoned me to be quiet, pressin’ a finger to his lips.
“’S’cuse the lass, she’s still got some manners ta learn. My name is Brund, an’ this ‘ere’s Trixxi. We come a long ways ta find the Glade an’ we mus’ find tha Steward quickly. We got uhh… summin’ ta show ‘em.” He trailed off and got quieter as he said the latter. I reached me hand into me bag and rolled the little wooden stone about in me fingers, feelin’ the warm energy fill me palm.
The merchant sighed in annoyance as his customer looked on to another booth, leavin’ his stand. “If you will please leave me be than I shall tell you! Brougan Grote is patrolling the road north of Argent Glade this day. Now please, get away from my vegetables!” He shooed us with his hands and I looked up at him, thinkin’ if Brund weren’t at me side an’ if there was less people ‘round I’d show ‘im what kind of dwarf he was dealin’ wit’! Instead of retaliatin’, Brund nodded thanks to the man and led the way north.
“Trixx,” Brund looked to me, “Ye can’t go off half-cocked like tha’, people will never help ya if yer always lookin’ ta fight ‘em e’erytime ya don’ git yer way.”
I scowled at him, not really believin’ fer me own ears what he was tellin’ me. “ Didya not hear what he was callin’ us? Talkin’ down to us like we was some poor beggar, or children, or both!” I was fumin’ mad at the situation, both at the merchant and from Brund’s reprimands.
Luckily, we found Brougan Grote shortly and conceded the fight, fer now. Brougan was a tall elf with an older , tired lookin’ face. He was patrollin’ the road when he spotted us as Brund waved him over.
“Are ye the Steward of Argent Glade?” he asked.
“Aye, I am Brougan Grote. The Guardian leaders in Sanctum appointed me Steward of Argent Glade years ago. It is a duty I’ve come to enjoy,” Brougan replied, a smile forming on his lips, lighting his face.
“Good, then yer jus’ tha man we need ta see. Trixx, show ‘em what we found in his fores’.” I ruffled through me bags till I found the stone, it’s power still emanatin’ like a beatin’ heart in me hand. I held it between two finger tips up to the tall elf, lookin’ up at him, watchin’ his face change shape as I rotated it ‘round, lettin’ him get a good look at the carvin’ etched into it.
“Oh my,” he said quickly, “Where did you find this?” He took the wooden stone from me hand and spun it ‘round more, inspectin’ it every which way. Horror and curiosity seemed ta wash o’er him as I looked on.
“Sir,” I started nervously, “We found that wooden stone deep in the forest, in the Palisades. We ‘ad it looked at by Thellium Bedstraw jus’ yesterday and he told us it might be from tha Plane o’ Life, somethin’ ta do with a creature named ‘Kongee-Gong’, or sommin’.”
His face flushed and his eyes widened as I said the name. “What’s going on? Kongeegon, did you say? I can barely believe what you’re telling me, yet I know it to be true. Prince Hylas must be mad to involve himself with such powerful planar magic, yet it would explain much of the Aelfwar’s recent activity.” He paced and looked off to the distance, holding the stone in hands still. I looked to Brund and shrugged, not really sure what it meant or what we could do ta help out.
“S’cuse me, sir, but what is a Kongee-Gong anyway?” I asked, my curiosity getting’ tha best of me, but snapped Brougan out of his gaze.
“Kongeegon is a treant demon from the Plane of LIfe. Our oldest tomes name him as one of Greenscale’s dreaded harbingers of the wild. By the Vigil, we must act quickly!”
“But what does it mean? It’s jus’ a wee wooden stone, surely no one alive can master the magic needed ta summon such a beast?” I prodded, wanting to know more. He looked down at me with worry upon his face before kneeling to tha ground, matching me eye-to-eye. He held me hands in his, completely cupping them with his long fingers.
“The high elf council moved to Sanctum when we joined the Guardians, but a powerful prince named Hylas Aelfwar dissented. He argued that joining the Guardians would only make the high elves weak in the fight against the Wanton hordes. Prince Hylas refused our pleas for unity and remained at the Keep, gradually building an army of adherents that he calls House Aelfwar. The Aelfwar situation now is a fragile peace, but I fear a storm is coming. If Prince Hylas’s power is allowed to row, I shudder to imagine what horrors he would unleash in a misguided attempt to protect Silverwood from Wanton flames.” I looked deep inta his blue eyes and felt sadness and fear as he explained this to me. My heart felt heavy for the people of the woods, even the rude ones like that merchant. So much fightin’ in tha lands, is it not enough to be fightin’ this civil war ‘tween Guardians and Defiants that there mus’ be war with the elves?
“Well, if Brund and I have anythin’ ta say about it, this Prince Hylas of yours won’t be given that chance, right Brundy?”
“Aye, lass, tha’ ye can bet yer ale on! Brougan, what can we do ta help?”
Brougan glanced between us both, his faint smile returning to his lips once more. “You’re Ascended, aren’t you? We will need only the best for this mission.”
We nodded to him, feeling anxious for ‘nother mission. Brund ‘ad his hand on ‘is sword hilt, gripping it as a reminder of his might. I was runnin’ spells o’er in me head, tryin’ ta think of the best, most clever ways to persuade this headstrong prince inta thinkin’ reasonably.
“We are at a crossroads,” he replied to us, “for our next steps will decide our success or failure. Hylas plans to use Kongeegon, the treeant demon given to him by Twyl, to destroy all civilization in Silverwood.”
“Are ye sure that’s ‘is plan, then? I mean, ‘ow do we know for certain that Hylas is plannin’ on usin’ the monster? We ‘ave the artifact, don’ we? “
Brougan shook his head in disagreement, heaving a heavy sigh. “The simple fact that we have the artifact does little to protect the forest. It takes a great magic to summon Kongeegon and we know from previous reports Hylas is in league with the Fae Lord Twyl. Unfortunately, Hylas does not require this artifact to summon his monster. It is time to stop this madness. Please, go to the Overwatch Keep and speak to Loras Tivan and help him any way you can.”
I looked to Brund and catchin’ ‘is eye I could tell he was readyin’ fer battle. I felt a sinkin’ in me stomach again as I thought about approachin’ a mad elf prince in his keep high in the mountains. I was anxious ta use me magic again, but the idea of tryin’ ta talk sense into an elf was not what I was hopin’ fer. Diplomacy is not exactly my strong suit; good thing I ‘ave Brund with me fer this venture.
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