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Chapter 2
Old Friends' Reunion
Shady Sull was always described as two things - A dwarf's dream and a mechanic's worst nightmare. For one, being that dwarves loved to tinker with things and invent better ones, this was the perfect opportunity. He or she could go for hours mapping out the schematics, and never loose interest, what with all the fun in the puzzling work. Being that of a nightmare was because most mechanics were not dwarves. Mechanics had the worst times trying to organize the gadgets, the wheels, and the levers that operated under the wooden floor of the entire town. A reason why Shady Sull had been built like this was because of fear.
At night, mainly three centuries ago, ravenous packs of wolves roamed the forest. They would steal into the unprotected town very easily, soon later to be found dug tunnels that lead to a warehouse. They would hurry in and hurry out, taking food, supplies, and even newborns with them. To prevent this, the Sunseer of the elven Sunwind Keep, the capital of Erance, devised a plan that most mechanics found utterly dubious. They mapped out a connection of pipes, irrigation systems, large wheels, and levers that would be constructed beneath a lifted Shady Sull. At first the Town Manager disagreed with this plan. But the wolves still came, even with added walls, taking supplies and whatever else they needed. So the plan went into effect. Dwarven specialists and great mechanics were called all over from the lands north, south, east and west. The mechanics found this extremely complicated, but to one of the most complicated races on Unitica itself, it was a fascination.
Everyone worked hard at raising the town from the forest floor. It took much effort, and due the obnoxious noise, many inhabitants took a leave to the eastern countries. But still it went on, working day and night, the grinding, the full-fledged effort. A decade or two later it was completed. Dwarves and mechanics alike rejoiced in the making of it, and found that with two turns of three levers above, the town lifted itself from the floor and shot to the high foliage. The wolves soon disappeared, as did most criminal acts. But this was all painstakingly done for one single thing: fear. This dark fear that hung over Shady Sull three centuries ago had somehow found itself alive and active again. This was what was so clearly obvious, thought Orion, as he, Jolith and Flit moved over thatched and gnarled forest floor, careful not to get captured by one of the vines that were so infamous here.
As they found their way to the ladder-area, Jolith muttered something about being criminals now. Flit huffed that, saying that the killing of trolls from the land was no different than disabling bad parts in a set of mechanics and separating it from the good.
"Hello up there!" Orion hollered with a cupped hand.
It was a minute later before a town guard meekly put his head over the edge. He studied the weary travelers, from Flit's stout form to Jolith's brawny build.
"Yes?"
"Could you please tell us why the town has been lifted in daylight hours?"
though Chief Burgsith had told them the reason already, the word of a troll could never be trusted, and one was heeded to get better information from a more reliable source. Another face appeared. This guard grunted something to the meeker one, disengaging a ladder that was dispatched to the ground from a hole. Without further questions, the three climbed the ladder that seemed to take an eternity, seeing that it rose from the ground an aspiring number of feet. Once they crossed that ladder, there was another grueling set of them, which Flit groaned at scaling. These ladder exit and entrances were stationed about seven per side of the nicely squared Shady Sull platform. When they reached the top, one of the guards turned to Orion. He didn't seem to notice the green liquid that covered bits of their attire, and gave a moving gesture.
"Perched daylight hours are from nine to six, lowered night hours are from seven to eight in the morning," the guard mumbled as they past by.
It was strange. Shady Sull was still the busy bundle of men, women, and children who crowded the sturdily wood-planked streets. Yet there was an eerie distance they kept from each other now, no busy chatter, just the soft speaking of wanted objects and things from merchants. Thankfully trolls didn't have a place in the perch, and it seemed they were only allowed to patrol away from the town. As usual, though, the straightly placed rows of cottages and shops stood securely and offered no split ends or unsightly cracked curbs. Water irrigation still spouted from the same places, and through little screwed pipes on the end of each street. But it was not the same without the chatter. It discomforted the three, and now, after three long years, locales that once talked kindly to them now identified them as otherworldly strangers. It was a cold feeling, one mixed with the high breezes that wafted through the trees and another of emptiness.
They strode through the cold town until they were able to find the source of their journeying here. Built high and mighty, a true giant to the smaller cottages, the Evergreen Palace was a well traveled to tavern. Even if you weren't a local or not, it was still a good place to find warm and comfort, even in times like these, distant and dark. Smoke drifted lazily from the chimney shaft that protruded from the top. It was careful not to catch foliage from neighboring overhangs of large evergreens, an advantage to being built in the center of the town. The sign each traveler remembered three years back was still there, one with a platter and mug painted on it, with the bold, snow-capped letters "EVERGREEN PALACE", with painted over numbers being "DAYLIGHT HOURS - NINE TO SIX".
They entered tiredly. When they came inside, though, it revealed where most of the men had vanished to! They migrated here in crowds, sat in a crowd, talked in a crowd - maybe because Shady Sull folk felt safer in large crowds. Women and children left outside for day chores, it appeared as if the men only came out of the dreary tavern only in the evening hours, when work was most needed in the thicket below. The homely tavern was large and squared in a disfigured octagon facet. Mists emitting from a hard-pressed kitchen made the room hard to see, and one would have to duck a little under it to get a clear visage of the tavern and its occupants, whoever wanted to see that. A hearth, unused, plastered itself to the far left. Hanging proudly on the wall were sets of animal-heads, built onto plates from the extreme sport of hunting in Shady Sull forest. Jolith admired these as one such as he might a great hunt's trophies. Barmaids served drunkards with a pushy attitude.
"Unsightly place this is," Flit hoarsely whispered. "I wouldn't leave my pouch unguarded here if my life depended on it."
Men of all kinds sat around here. Dwarves, humans - even a few, four foot wingless faeries they saw exit the door. This was much more an ideal place for humans more than anything else. But dwarves did make pilgrimages here; at least once in a lifetime, just to fancy the superb technical schematics. Flit approached one of his kinsmen, attempted to strike a short conversation at what was going on around here. The dwarf gave on look to Flit, rudely sat up, and took another seat a couple feet over. Jolith searched the tavern for his half-sister and half-brother, while Orion tried to find the knightly elf Adrias. For Jolith, his half-siblings wouldn't be hard to point out. She was dark-skinned and he was tanned, while Danjmar was a paler white. These two should've been no trouble pointing out in such a relaxed crowd. Finally he found her. In the crowd of gathering brawl of eager grunts, where drunkards raised their mugs high, spilling the precious ale over each other's heads - a promising place to find her. He waded through the group with ease, shortly finding the small table, and his half-sister. She squatted evenly in a chair. Her elbow was propped on the table, her hand tightened over the drunkard's that sat across from her, and her gaze focused, glinting the lamp firelight in the distance. Shouts in this area were the high event of the day, which also appeared if it had been going on all day.
Jolith quietly admired his half-sister, glancing at the drunkards who popped him on the back. Her arm pulsed with strength, and she bit at her lip, watching the drunkard begin to loose his ability to go on. He furthered himself, though, but his face showed just what the hardships were when arm-wrestling Aphima Alluvis. At the climax of the wrestle, the drunkard squinted his eyes in the effort to break her hold, but was to no avail. With one final grunt, she brought he arm down with a loud bang that probably did the drunkard more pain than the table. The drunkards howled with excitement and slapped her on the back heavily. She was prized with a shot of ale, which she threw back immediately, accepting the next with wide grin. But when she saw who had given it to her (which she had to glance at twice), she butted the shot onto the table, leaping up and hugging him aggressively.
"Jolith! Brother! You made it!" she messed his hair, giving him an unexpected sloppy one on the lips. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't!"
Jolith greeted her in the same fashion, lifting her up in a bear-like hug that was more of gruff-nature than of affection. She groaned playfully in that manner, kicking her feet wildly until she was sat down. Both looked at each other amusingly. In a span of these many years, not one detail had gone wrong on either of them. Aphima flaunted her naval and a good deal of thigh. She had styled her hair attractively, letting tangles fall loosely, and a topknot that thrashed from side to side. A traditional amazon breastplate was applied to her chest and spanned from shoulder to shoulder in a broad coat that stopped at her bust. A bow was slung over her shoulder, a quiver hung from her belt, something he guessed the tavern owner willingly allowed her to carry here.
"You look, well, outstanding," he scratched his head.
"And you too, brother," her face twisted in a curl of lip and cocked brow.
"Say, you didn't come alone, did you? I hope that those other fools came with you. I owe Orion a sloppy one and that dwarf owes me gold!" Jolith patted her on the back, pointing to where the others disorderedly crammed through the crowds. Before she was able to go, he stopped her shortly.
"Wait - where's Danjmar?"
At the mention of the name she rolled her eyes, and stabbed a finger to an ominous corner, where the glow of firelight did not reach. "Over there. Don't expect to be lovingly embraced by him. And... He's changed."
Jolith was about to ask her further but she vanished in the throng of the crowd, swimming her way towards Orion. Jolith glanced awkwardly to the corner she pointed at. There was a dark figure crouched there, the outlines seeable by a small glitter of blue light that looked as if to float without support.
A sudden, crippling pain seared his cheek. Orion gritted his teeth and balled his fists, ready to take up arms to his attacker. He brought the fists to a hasty stop.
"Aphima!"
She smiled so as to give no hard feelings. He felt the sore on his cheek but she gave him a smug look, grazing her palm along his whiskery, bruised face.
"My, my, someone's grown an actually sufficient beard! No hard feelings," she shrugged with the sumptuous movement all amazonian women were born with.
He ogled at her primitive beauty, but supposed he wouldn't let her catch him doing so, knowing all too well the punishment one might receive for deciding an amazon simply on her looks.
"Great to see you back. Been a long time. By the way, where's Fl - Ah hah!"
Orion blushed. He didn't realize growing a beard meant so much publicity! He hugged Aphima shortly, letting her loose to chase after Flit, who tried to disappear into the crowd but failed when she latched onto his collar.
"Now wait a minute there, gnome, I do believe you owe me something?" she faked a deep, manly voice.
"Oh, damnation! I ain't no gnome, and I don't even have any money!" he swore at the top of his lungs. Drunkards from all around laughed at these sites, the group had unnoticeably performed a comedy for them and made the spirits rise in the cloudy tavern.
"That'll teach you to never again steal away from an amazon when you are in debt of her! Especially in poker!" she slipped out his pouch, at which she peeled out a few pieces of gold. Once she'd gotten what she wanted, she placed him down gently, stuffing the gold in her pocket and the pouch back in his leggings.
He squirmed madly until he had secure footing again.
"Where are Jolith and Danjmar?" Orion interrupted the comical duo.
Once done fiddling with Flit's loaf of beard, she led them across the tavern to a dark corner. There, Jolith sat next to a shadow-clad figure, with a single perk of light hovering slightly above it. Jolith gestured for Orion to take a closer peek. He did so, peering as sharply as possible. Orion nearly leapt back! He stared at his companions wide-eyed. He grabbed hold of a lamp and brought it closer to outweigh the shadows. And he nearly jumped back again!
"You've - you've changed!"
Danjmar sunk on chair silently. He was no longer the pale, weakling that seemed to always depend on someone else's shoulder for a crutch. This new Danjmar was actually more upright. He wore a leathery black robe that collected orb-like rubies on his collar. A shoulder padding, similar to Aphima's breastplate but apart of the robe, lied flaccidly across his chest. His hair had gray tones to it, no longer as dark as it was. He huddled on a long protracted staff gleaming with gold. Gracing the top was a metallic sign formed from the rod itself, and it clutched a crystal orb that sent the glint of light. It was sculpted in a rounded form and was sculpted with little designs that made it all come together in a grand presentation.
"Do you like?" Danjmar's first slithery words were as shock to Orion.
There was no fathomable word for the sorcerer's stark change. He tried to fathom a word, just a single word that would describe this strange moment. He failed. All that came out was a deep, throatily made mumble that he was sure they thought meant "Yeah".
Flit showed no response other than a gruff look. His expression said something like it was inevitable that this would happen. Though, deep inside, he held a deep remorse and surprise for Danjmar. And then came the speedy second thought that crashed into their senses.
"Tell me you didn't," Orion moaned more than said. He took a seat briefly, as did Aphima. Flit stood and stared and made sure everyone knew what he thought about the moment. Orion glanced at Jolith. This was the caring, embracing, and forgiving heart of his half-brother. The only one, who at times, was the last soul in the world who still sought protection for Danjmar's health and emotions. He would be the only one who stayed up in the late, tedious hours of midnight and nursed him back to fair life when the magic would take over, becoming a detrimental ailment, a curse. They could only imagine what he was feeling like right now, what, with his only brother joining a cursed, ruthless -
"Clan? Yes," Danjmar tightened his lip. Firelight adjoined with his peculiar brown eyes.
"I have joined a Clan. The Clan, to be respectful."
"Which Clan?" Flit's tone was snappy.
"A Clan in Burdslund," he replied simply.
"And why didn't you just stay at the Towers in Middle Hedge? Wizardry there is growing at a rapid rate these days."
"Because he always has to have more of his magic," grouched Flit. He shook his head and flop of beard in utter disappointment of the sorcerer.
"No, it wasn't like that, dwarf," Danjmar recoiled from the group. He drew himself further into the shadows, collecting much of the robe around his frail body.
Danjmar lifted his head to the ceiling, reclining gently on the chair, remembering his experience. He brought the staff close to his ruby-anointed collar, caressing it subtly. The crystal within the top chamber of the staff sparked at the center.
"But why?" Orion broke out. "Clans don't offer anything but shame and misfortune. Their members are mean and cold-hearted, would kill a man if it meant saving his precious magic. Hell, they even will go to the extremes of killing off their own member if and when that member exposes anything about their Clan. They keep their secrets even from the High Priests, Danjmar. You know what that means?"
Danjmar lolled his eyes. "Yes I know what that means!" he spoke fast, almost incomprehensible.
It seemed as if he'd had enough of this from Aphima.
"Than why did you join such an awful thing like a Clan?"
Danjmar was unsettled at this. He prepared to fight back with words, but was plopped on the shoulder with a hand from Jolith.
"Well, I for one do not care. I'm sure that for whatever reason he may have joined a Clan is a good one."
"Thank you, brother," he relaxed in the comfort of the strong barbarian's arm, "it's nice to know that you're wanted at least somewhere."
"Now, let's forget about this entire ordeal. I believe we all traveled a great distance to be here. Let's live it up while we're in the moment, shall we?"
Orion agreed partly because of the swell-hearted warrior's coolness of the moment. Partly also on that they had gone great distances to reach the Evergreen Palace. He swayed welcomingly to another subject.
"Has anyone found Adrias? Flit? Have you seen him around here, Aphima?"
Both shook their heads. The group of friends glanced earnestly around the misty tavern. The crowds had turned their attentions from earlier comical group to their tankards, the drunkards had gone to the bar, and those left who were sober were now turning to beginners' shot glasses. Someone had started a crispy fire in the hearth, located at the forefront of the tavern. It warmed every bitter soul there, save Danjmar, who escaped into his own aura of cold.
"Perhaps he was caught up in his homeland," Aphima suggested. "I've heard that there is quite some evil summoning there. Most of the knights have been called from their bastions and driven into the front lines."
While Aphima was the knowledgeable advocate of war, her half-brother being the patriot, Orion had to disagree. "Evil? Bah, no matter. Adrias, war or no war, would never miss an opportunity in three years to meet his friends. There's no way he would."
"Yes, well, while that's all good, I don't think we can wait on his presence forever," Flit said flatly. "Orion, I do believe that you had something you wanted to talk to the whole group about? Something about Shady Sull?"
Orion nodded. He gathered the friends around a table, pulling up their chairs so not to spill any of the conversation onto avesdroppers. Danjmar stood back, immobile. It took Jolith's pleading, puppy-dog look for the sorcerer to give in. He joined the group but only at a distance.