Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
Ford Inn
The four of them cantered towards the Inn, moving much faster than the column with its prisoners, wounded and baggage. It would cut hours off their travel time. They approached the Inn at the end of the afternoon. They drew up and observed for a while. From a distance everything looked normal.
“Looks quite peaceful, doesn’t it?” Ala offered.
Matt offered an opinion, “yeah. I don’t like it.”
“He says that a lot, doesn’t he, Ala?” Quipped Myrthe.
Ala asked Fulgor to continue and the others followed. It was quiet, but seeing as the events in Thetwick had paralysed almost all trade, that made sense. They rode into the caravan yard. There were groups of refugees here, and even a few pedlars who couldn’t quite be described as proper merchants. Ala didn’t think they would be continuing their journey to Thetwick, not once they had apprised themselves of the news from travellers. That was unless they sold weapons and armour, of course, there was certain to be a demand for that in Thetwick now. They rode into the walled courtyard where the caravans typically camped. It really seemed like it was mostly refugees now, even more than the previous time they had passed through, which was only a few days before. The refugees stared at them as they rode in, many with a discomforting, blank, expression. She didn’t see anyone in any kind of armour, making her wonder where the warrior monks that had left Thetwick two days before had gone.
Ala thought about what she had overheard. Could some of the refugees be Mahr followers dressed up as peasants? It was very hard to tell a Oakharrower or a warrior monk from a peasant if you couldn’t go by armour and weapons. Especially if they were just standing still watching you, wearing the customary oversized peasant garb. As they were tying their horses, Ala spoke quietly to the others.
“There must at least be spies. I can’t really imagine that Oakharrow hasn’t placed scouts here. It’s actually strange that it hasn’t simply been taken over by those Mahr worshippers yet, with so many men available in Thetwick.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” said Matt.
“Perhaps the Count wanted things to appear as normal as possible as long as he could,” mused Myrthe. “If he’d taken this place, word would have spread further into Taladaria by now.”
“Perhaps it’s as simple as that,” Ala agreed.
“I’m going to talk to the refugees, I think Guanshiyin’s hand might be of some use there, even if I learn nothing.”
“Be really careful Myr, some of those Mahrian monks could easily be mixed in with the refugees.”
“I’m just a wandering priestess… no threat. I’ll be fine.”
That left Ala and Talathiel standing in the courtyard. Ala felt uncomfortable with Myrthe’s plan but decided, for lack of a better suggestion, to get on with things. She couldn’t help but wonder if the Mahrians were letting the Inn continue on as normal just to see what they might catch.
In the meantime Talathiel was standing with her nose tilted upwards as is she was smelling something. “Well, that’s still a beautiful river. It is an old friend. I’ve always loved the Iceflow. Its currents is strong, as it has been for millennia. If we must defend this place I will ask it for help.”
“Is that something common to all water elves, the way you can… manipulate… the water?”
“No. Well. I suppose we must all have some affinity. It’s not manipulation though. That would be rude. It’s more like… coaxing. I ask and it comes. But I have cultivated that affinity. It is not uncommon among water elven wizards. It just comes more naturally than other forms of magic. We are water, somehow. Just like you are Fire. My affinity is much like yours. Not all elves have it as strongly as you and I, however.”
“I would love to learn more about it, Talathiel, but we should probably make certain we are safe here first.”
“I agree. We should pretend not to know the human boy while he goes about his business, I think. In fact, that may be sensible even in less contested places. Let us go see what is happening in the common room.”
The two of them went inside. Ala was beginning to lose the habit of raising her hood when she walked into any kind of establishment. Not that there was any point with Talathiel next to her, the sorceresses’ looks skipped right past exotic and were best well in a category best described as otherworldly.
The common room was not as busy as Ala had known it to be in the past. Not that she’d expected it to be, considering the situation outside. The atmosphere was subdued, people were speaking softly if at all, huddled together around a few tables. When Thetwick was controlled by the Duke, traders, minstrels and prostitutes had livened the place up almost every night. There were some refugees coming and going, taking food to the courtyard and Alissa was serving more of them, filling bowls with stew from the cauldron over the fire. There were a few groups of men, and even a group of well armoured dwarves, who were arguing with one another in their own language, which sounded a like thunder. It was a rarity and Ala stared.
She’d never seen proper mountain dwarves before. She’d seen a few plains dwarves in Duilhac of course and there was the one at the Duke’s court, but they had dressed and behaved as short stocky humans. When she was younger there had been the occasional dwarf she’d seen travelling with a caravan. She was fairly certain those had to have been plains dwarves too. This was a full-on band of mountain dwarves wearing angular plate armour and furs, with a wide range of oversized swords, crossbows, picks, flails and axes strewn about them. They had several weapons each, certainly more than any human would customarily carry.
“Your mouth is open Alagariel,” said Talathiel.
“Oh. Sorry. Just never seen a band of dwarves like that.”
“Mountain dwarves. Feisty bunch. Don’t come down from their mountains all that often and never without a pressing reason. I wonder what they’re doing out here? I can’t imagine it’s good.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Hmm… well… they are probably either selling weapons and armour, or they’re mercenaries. If the word has passed to the mountain kingdoms that there’s profit to be had here… well, it’s the most likely reason to find dwarves anywhere… but…”
“What?”
“Normally it’s more plains dwarves in those professions. Unusual to see a group of mountain dwarves out and about at all…”
Talathiel was pensive for a moment before continuing.
“If they are mercenaries or arms merchants, the information would have had to be carried through the Duke’s lands for them to make the trip via the Ford Inn. Such rumours could never have skipped by Duilhac without coming to the Duke’s attention. If they had learned of opportunities here through Greythorn or Oakharrow, they would never have passed through here. I think then, I have no idea whatsoever what they might be doing here.”
Ala couldn’t argue with Talathiel’s logic. The only real population of mountain dwarves she had heard of lived to the southwest in a realm called Dwarfholme. It was said to be entirely underground.
“Good point. Ford Inn really isn’t on the way from the dwarven Kingdom to Thetwick.”
“No. It isn’t. It’s strange that they’re here. It may even be something as silly as coincidence. Who would have imagined that? It doesn’t really make much sense.”
“Can’t we just ask them?”
“Mountain dwarves and elves don’t get along. Metal elves sometimes, but water and dwarf is a sure way to reach a disagreement. I’m not sure how they react to fire elves. Maybe they aren’t either. It’s been half a millennium since your kind was much seen in society after all. They are longer lived than humans of course, but still there will be almost no dwarves alive that remember King Anfos.”
“Do you remember him?”
“Not consciously, it wasn’t really something to worry about before everything happened. I never met him, or anything. After Fire was lost, well, something changed. There was an acute difference to how elven kind… felt… I suppose. It’s difficult to put words to it.”
“It’s hard to imagine for me. I don’t even have a real idea of what elven kind is like today, let alone five hundred years ago,” said Ala, as much to herself as to Talathiel.
The dwarves seemed to have settled matters between them. It was a cause for celebration and they ordered a cask of the innkeeper’s best ale tapped in accented but fluent common.
“This may get raucous,” said Talathiel.
The other two groups of men hadn’t escaped Ala’s attention either. They looked like pilgrims, though Ala felt there was something out of place with them. Too fit, too well fed and too muscular. What pilgrims might be doing here, or on the way to where they might be, Ala had no idea of. She wasn’t aware of a pilgrimage site worth visiting in Thetwick.
“Talathiel. The pilgrims. Their presence doesn’t make sense either.”
“Why not? Humans have flights of fancy all the time. No reason they couldn’t have decided that Thetwick’s bear pits or cauliflowers or whatever are holy or sacred or whatever this week. Humans are prone to such flights of fancy.”
Talathiel had already demonstrated she was extremely dismissive of humanity, but was obviously going to offer new and creative ways of reiterating the point. Ala wasn’t convinced, however.
“I don’t think so Talathiel. They’re all between twenty and forty, muscled, and they appear disciplined. I count sixteen of them.”
Talathiel appeared to reconsider the pilgrims, “hmm, you may have a point. We should really either sit down somewhere or go get something at the bar. We’re beginning to attract real attention from the dwarves.”
They were still standing at the door. Ala led them to one of many unoccupied tables. The half elven serving girl, Alissa came to their table, looking mistrustful and tired.
“Heya Ala… err Lady Alagariel..”
“Let’s not act different about all that, can we? Please?” Ala Asked.
“Right… Sow what can I get ya…. err… Ala, Lady Elf?”
“It’s good to see you, Alissa.”
That finally caused her to smile a little.
“You too. Now what do you want?”
“May we have some watered wine please, and perhaps some food.”
Alissa gave a terse smile, “alright, I’ll get you some stew, it’s all we have right now, I’m afraid.”
Ala nodded agreement. Alissa looked as she had not been having an easy time of it. When she left, one of the dwarves who had been looking at them, got up and approached them.
“Afternoon, Ladies. May I introduce myself?” he asked. “I am Ulfberht Ulfberhtsson, of the Kingdom of Dwarfholme, may we speak for a moment?”
Ala decided to be nice and see if the rumours were true.
“Master Ulfberht, a pleasure. I am Alagariel. This is Talathiel. How may we be of ser…”
Talathiel interrupted.
“You are the patriarch of house Ulfberht? What is such a vaunted smith doing here, at the Ford Inn of all places?”
“I am indeed, it pleases me that you know of our works. As for why we are here? It is a long tale.”
“Not trade?” Asked Ala.
“No. Ulfberht works are well enough known that we need not venture out to sell our wares. We can barely meet demand as it is.”
“Perhaps you should sit, Master Ulfberht,” Ala offered.
“Yes, yes thank you, Lady Alagariel.”
The stocky dwarf manoeuvred himself onto a chair. It was an ungainly process as he couldn’t sit and keep his feet on the floor. Ala wondered for a moment why a dwarf would address her as a noble. Or was he just erring on the safe side like many humans did?
“We are here in pursuit of our craft, I cannot tell you more. The secrets of house Ulfberht’s forge are our livelihood. A true master smith would even be able to guess what we are after just because of where we are looking for it.”
Ala spotted Matt coming into the common room. She pretended not to see him, he did the same to her and Talathiel.
“I understand Master Ulfberht,” said Ala, then more quietly, “there are troubles in these lands, I am pleased your journey is not seeking to become a part of them.”
“I do not seek violence, unless it is just and necessary, if that is what you mean.” He continued, “tell me Lady Alagariel. We Ulfberht’s make it a point never to rest on our laurels, we are constantly seeking to improve. To that end I have extensively studied elven forge works. I notice that the armour you wear is of an ancient elven make and quality that is seldom seen. Your sword, however, appears out of kilter, although the shape of the scabbard suggests that all is perhaps not as it seems.”
The dwarf’s eye for metal work was certainly what you’d expect from a master smith, Ala thought. While they were talking, Matt was moving around, exchanging banter with Alissa and the innkeeper. He was also exchanging words with various patrons and made an attempt at a jest with the two other groups of men which obviously wasn’t appreciated. He apologised and beat a hasty retreat back to the innkeeper. Once the pilgrims attention was not on him, he struck up a conversation with the innkeeper again.
Ala turned back to Ulfberht.
“You are very observant, Master Ulfberht. I am afraid I have a bit more immediate concerns. A fight will break out here soon I expect. Would you and your band please leave the common room?”
“I do not seek violence, Lady Elf. But I do not run away from it either.”
“With all respect Master Ulfberht. You and your band are an uncertain factor.”
“Are we now? Then it is a matter of allegiance?”
“Do you see those men over there?”
“You mean the Phansigar scum?”
“Phansigar?”
“Yes, I am quite certain,” se said with a serious expression, “I caught a glimpse of a tattoo, or the edge of one at least. It can scarce be much else.”
“You call them Phansigar? Why? What is a Phansigar?
“These vile bandits… we call them Phansigar, do you not use the same term? Anyway, we will gladly assist you in dispatching them. I thought it was against the law of the land, it stayed my hand, or we would have long have wet the floors with their blood.”
“We have encountered them before, but the name is new to me. Does the tattoo look like spread wings and two curved swords?”
“Yes, yes, that is their emblem. I was surprised to see them here, Lady Alagariel. They live in a chain of high and well defended monasteries just outside the borders of Dwarfholme, to the east of our lands. How they stop the orcks from running them off I do not know. I suspect some sort of arrangement.”
“Do you know anything else about them? Their motivations and goals perhaps?”
“They are a kind of despicable warrior monks that follow some entity or thing they call Mahr. Their right of passage is gaining the trust of a group of travellers and raping and murdering them in their sleep. They take any children back to their monasteries to be brainwashed. I am certain there is magic involved. They train full obedience and warfare as well as gaining trust. Assassination is a favourite of theirs.”
“You clearly know more of them than I, master dwarf. When things aren’t quite so precarious I would like to hear more of what you know about them.”
He continued on, seemingly not in a rush to start the fight, “they even have a religious dogma on which all this is distasteful behaviour based, or so I’ve been told. Being humans, dwarven travellers know to be wary. They have frequently preyed on those who come to visit with us and trade with us.”
Ala frowned, thinking of the bandits that plagued Sheffield. “Please go one Master Ulfberht?”
“These attacks on folk who mean to trade with us are an intolerable blemish on our honour. The dwarves of Dwarfholme hate them passionately. We have attempted to destroy their monasteries, but many are too deep within orck lands, or so inaccessible that doing so causes great losses among us. Still we campaign against them every year.”
“We have friends approaching. I was going to wait for them to arrive,” said Ala.
Talathiel spoke, having listened intently to Ulfberht’s explanation. “Wait a moment Alagariel. I have heard of murdering travellers. It’s happening around the kingdom. They make it their habit to gain travellers trust and travel with them until the opportune moment. They could be travelling everywhere with these refugees. There may be more of them in the yard, too if that is the disguise they are using.”
“Then the Phansigar are active in Taladaria, I would say, Lady Talathiel,” lamented Ulfberht.
“You are correct. Though, I’m no Lady, Master Ulfberht. That’s just Alagariel here.”
“Mistress Talathiel then or perhaps I should say, Magister?”
“Very observant, Master Ulfberht.”
Ala felt out of her depth. Apparently her educations on elven matters hadn’t covered how to actually recognise a Magister yet. She filed it for later.
“If the Phansigar are in among the refugees in the courtyard, this is not going to be neat. There will be innocent deaths.”
Ala looked around. “Maybe we just take the common room, for starters. We just need to make sure Myrthe is safe.”
The situation took over at that moment. One of the Phansigar had apparently decided something was not in order with Matt and had stood up, drawing a long dagger. Matt, as martially inept as he was, was backpedalling hard trying to get his sword up between them. The Phansigar’s companions were also rising, pulling weapons from their robes. Ulfberht bellowed something that sounded ever so much like thunder. His companions all sprang into action, readying their weapons. Ala got up and made for Matt, drawing her sword on the way. She jumped from table to table, severing the Phansigar’s arm below the elbow before he could really do anything about it because he was busy fending off Matt with his shorter weapon. Losing his weapon hand allowed Matt to run the man through, which he did with a horrified look in his eyes.
There was already a clash going on between the dwarves and the Phansigar. The dwarves were outnumbered, but they were fully equipped, while the “pilgrims” hadn’t been wearing mail as part of their disguise, so they were hard pressed. They did their trick where they simply sacrificed a few lessers, but this time Matt and Ala had been expecting it. Between the two of them, they cut down all four of the Phansigar who had been trying to move away with the blood bought cover. It was to no avail. The dwarves made short work of the remaining monks, except for one, who appeared to have drowned on the spot and was leaking water out of his mouth. Ala glanced in Talathiel’s direction, she looked back and shrugged.
“Matt, can you see if Myrthe is alright? I hope they didn’t hear the fight in the courtyard. Helmut, do you know if these men were with any of the groups of refugees?”
The Innkeeper peeked out from behind his counter, which he had ducked behind during the fight.
“No… no milady…. not that I know of.”
She pulled the arm up of one of the dead Phansigar, and stripped back the sleeve.
“None of them has a tattoo? Like this one? Spread wings with two curved swords underneath?”
“Uhmm… no… I don’t think…”
Alissa raised her head, “I think I’ve seen that, err, milady…” she said uncomfortable with addressing her friend as a noble. “The group at the back of the courtyard. One of the men had something that looked like that on his forearm.”
“Alright, that’s one group anyway. We’d best go and weed them out. We should really check everyone here. Do they have any women in the ranks that you know of, Master Ulfberht?”
“I don’t know Lady Alagariel. I think I’ve heard that they do take female children from time to time. I’ve never known them to travel with like minded women. I a scared to think what they do with the children, in fact.”
Ala addressed Helmut once more, “Ford Inn is requisitioned in the name of the Duke of Taladaria. Lord Caerel will be here shortly. You and your people will assist us.”
“Yes milady…” he managed without including any racial slurs, then under his breath… “it’s about time…”
Matt came rushing back in. “I found a window. Something is going on out there, I can’t see Myrthe anywhere.”
“So we go outside,” said Ala, and led off, unslinging her shield. Ulfberht followed close behind followed by the rest of his noisily armoured band. He seemed eager to continue the fight.
Outside, it became clear that there hadn’t been any real refugees at all. Everyone in the courtyard seemed to be bearing weapons, with the exception of all the women and children. They weren’t refugees either though, they had simply been hostages… dressing to make the Phansigar believable. It disgusted Ala. The Phansigar had murdered these women’s husbands, sons and brothers, burnt their homes then beat and raped them into submission just to make sure they would be more believable refugees. She felt an unfamiliar desire to remove them from existence.
The dwarves and Ala were surrounded, it seemed like there might as many as a hundred of them, though Ala knew one tended to exaggerate the size of groups of people. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be terribly well equipped and armoured. So perhaps seventy, she decided. Still far too many. Caerel was at least another hour away.
“I did not realise today would be my last day when I woke this morning, Lady Alagariel,” said Ulfberht, scanning the Phansigar in front of them with a serious expression.
“Nor I mine, Master Ulfberht.”
“I think under the circumstances, we can be a little more familiar. My friend dwarves call me Ulf. We dwarves cannot run, Lady Alagariel. We are not much built for it as well as being unseemly. Please use the time we can buy to try and escape.”
“My name is Ala, to friends, Ulf. I didn’t know it until just now, but I will stay with you. It is where I should be and it would not be right to leave my fight to you. Talathiel, Matt, I think it is vital that the two of you get to Caerel to warn him and then make sure the Duke knows.”
Neither Matt nor Talathiel argued. She could see they wanted to, but they knew it was pointless. Both of them simply did as she said. Particularly in Talathiel’s case, that surprised Ala. In any event her decision was made, she felt no doubt. She looked around for Myrthe. Probably already dead, she decided.
Ala felt very calm.
“Dwarves of house Ulfberht, may I have the honour of fighting alongside you?” Ala asked.
They responded, apparently as one and without prompting with a battle cry in their thunder language. The dwarves formed a line, to either side of Ulf and Ala, and raised their weapons high. Ala was still calm as she called her fire, concentrating for a moment to let it envelop her and then, to her surprise, her new-found friends, whose grim faces looked up in wonder as the golden-red flames enveloped them in a shell of fire without burning or blinding them.
The Phansigar had gathered, weapons drawn. They had pulled out shields and some had armour. In the middle of their line was an older man, with a warrior’s physique and a beard. He looked angry, apparently only barely able to contain his rage at their defiance. Ala’s calm became deeper still. The dwarves took up a rhythmic chant and began to march forwards, she fell into step with them. The Phansigar also came forward and as the first one lifted his blade to strike, Ala’s world gently changed to the place where time at once went impossibly fast and terribly slow. She could move freely, easily anticipating each opponent’s blow. She didn’t really know where she went or what she did exactly, though she later found she could remember all of it in detail if she concentrated.
Then, all of a sudden, it was over. It was quite a lot later and she stood in a dim courtyard that had been bright in the evening sun until a moment ago. Around her, dwarves were lighting torches. A horn call was heard in the distance. Caerel was close. The whole courtyard was strewn with bodies, among them several dwarves. Ulfberht was still standing, though he had deep gashes. Ala checked herself, she didn’t have a cut on her, though her tabard had countless slashes showing the elven mail beneath.
“Well Lady Alagariel, had I known you were a battle-dancer, I would not have acted so dramatic and emotional. Though…” he said, surveying the carnage, “the legends hardly do you justice.”
Ala looked around all the corpses in bewilderment too. How much of it was she responsible for?
“I didn’t know I could battle dance myself, until just now. I prefer Ala though, truly, Ulf. Surely I am only responsible for a very small part of all this?”
As she said it, she realised that probably wasn’t true. For almost all the corpses that lay in her field of view, she found she could remember how they had met their end on her blade.
“Well, we dwarves accounted for a fair share of course,” he said with a grin, “but, truth be told, not as fair as yours. My kinsmen fought bravely and well, I will mourn the passing of my friends who fell. They have honourably earned their place in the halls of the gods. Still, I think great friendships are forged on such days where there is also great tragedy, Ala.”
“I am honoured.” It seemed the only appropriate response. Suddenly a panic came over her. “Have you seen my friend, Myrthe? She is a priestess of Guanshiyin. Talathiel and Matt?”
“There do appear to have been some genuine refugees spread in amongst them. They tied them up over there. We’re untying them one by one, checking forearms. I think I saw one in a priestesses’ robes among them. The water elf and the human did as they were told. They scaled the wall over there. I think they just saw the beginning of your dance, perhaps, perhaps not.”
“It’s a strange thing. Like it wasn’t me, but it was at the same time. But I must find Myrthe, first,” she said as she rushed towards where the refugees were gathered.
Ala found herself crying with relief. Myrthe was alright, except for a nasty bump on the head and looking dishevelled.
“Oh, thank god you’re alright Ala. Was that a battle-dance?”
Ala nodded self consciously.
“It was beautiful and terrible all at once… and all that fire…”
“What happened to you, Myrthe?”
“I noticed something was wrong about the refugees, I didn’t feel Guanshiyin’s urge. It didn’t make sense. They saw my discomfort. That’s when they overpowered me, just after Matt went inside. I’m not sure what set them off.”
Once Ala had freed her and checked her for any hidden injuries, Myrthe started moving around to help where she could.
“Myrthe, would you check on the dead and wounded dwarves?”
“Oh yes…. yes of course.”
Ala looked at her bustling about, decided she was alright, and headed for the gate in the courtyard wall, calling to the dwarves as she went.
“Master Ulfberht, I would like you to meet the Heir of Taladaria.”
Ulfberht nodded, stood and followed her through the gate, just as Lord came riding up, with Matt and Talathiel on either side of him.
“I thought you two said none of them would survive? Though I’m glad you were wrong. It’s good to see you Ala. You do look a little the worse for wear. Who is this?”
“May I present Master Ulfberht Ulfberhtsson? He and his brave dwarves were instrumental to my still being alive. Master Ulfberht, this is Caerel de Duilhac, Lord and heir of Taladaria, his grandfather is the Duke himself.”
“Lord Caerel, honour upon your house. The lass exaggerates. I think she may well have managed it all on her own.”
“And on yours, Master dwarf. Just how many were you facing in there? You make it sound like fifty or more.”
“Perhaps we should simply count? It would be better to know for sure.” Suggested Matt.
“We should indeed know how many they were with,” Caerel agreed, “it may give a little more insight.”
They walked back into the courtyard. The unlikely carnage was still there, despite Ala’s dreamlike feeling. Myrthe had managed to save one of the badly wounded dwarves. He wouldn’t be doing any fighting any time soon. Several more dwarves were beyond help.
By now, it was getting dark. The dwarves had liberally placed torches around the courtyard which bathed the grisly scene in faint torchlight. Caerel walked around and ordered the bodies gathered outside the wall. Everyone helped, dragging the corpses out of the courtyard. Even Caerel participated, somewhat to Ala’s surprise. She found she had to concentrate for a few moments to remember each corpse and how she had killed them. On one hand it was amazing that she could remember at all. On the other, it still felt detached, which she was actually sort of thankful for.
It was well and truly dark before the bodies were out of the courtyard. The count had come to sixty-eight, not including those in the common room. There was no way of knowing how many had been killed by the dwarves and how many by Ala. Ala supposed she could try and recognise each one by concentrating, but she really didn’t want to replay each death in her mind. Brugor set the guardsmen in shifts, to keep watch during the night.
When they were finally finished they retired to the Inn. There were two large private rooms in the inn, and Ala shared one with Talathiel and Myrthe. Matt, Caerel and Brugor shared the other. The dwarves had elected to keep vigil over their fallen, building funeral pyres through the night. They were to be lit at dawn. Ala could hardly stand on her feet, now realising she was truly exhausted. She insisted on being roused just before dawn to join the dwarves in their farewell ceremony. She had lain down to meditate after she had told Caerel what had happened. He didn’t ask how it was possible, he just listened silently, letting her rest immediately afterwards.
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