Gaia-Town - 1. Quench

Quench

The big, burly blacksmith wiped the sweat that was stinging his eyes. “Get those bellows going faster,” he growled at Adron, one of his scrawny young apprentices. The slightly built, though tall teen looked fearfully at his master and rushed over to the furnace. His long reddish-brown hair was plastered to his head. Waldron noticed the youth’s face was as black and filthy as his own. Adron wasn’t the best of his apprentices, but he was certainly the best looking. He didn’t have time to consider that, given the Count had a rush order for gendarme spear heads to be delivered in a few weeks.

Waldron grunted as the fires burned hotter even as a blast of cold air hit his back. “What the gods?” he exclaimed turning around with a grimace.

Coming through the door was a man dressed wrapped in a black cloak with a wolf loping along next to him. Those robes looked rich and that meant coin of the realm. That was promising, Waldron noted. He was first and foremost a businessman and it drew his interest and suppressed his annoyance at the intrusion.

Adron tried not to stare at the man so he looked down at the wolf. It was panting and looked back at him. The apprentice was surprised as he noticed the wolf’s eyes peered into his. There was intelligence there and worse, knowing. That wolf knew about him, something about him. Adron shivered and looked away.

“Are you the blacksmith?” a deep bass voice asked from deep within the folds of a hood. Waldron noticed a glint of silver hair and the wolf was looking about the room, panting.

“I’m Waldron. What can I do for you sir?” Waldron responded and bowed deeply.

“I’m in special need of a certain item,” he said. “I’ve been told you could accommodate me.”

“If I can sir, I most certainly will,” Waldron said, his head still bowed but his eyes searching for a sign of the man’s face. It was dark beneath the hood but when the stranger raised his hand, the blacksmith could see an elaborate tattoo trailing up his arm. He could smell magic even when partially hidden.

“Can we talk some place private?” the deep voice growled from beneath the hood.

“My kitchen is a little more private,” Waldron said, puzzled. Most orders were relatively routine matters. The idea it was a clandestine order both surprised and scared him a little. Nobody in G-Town knew about his jaded past, a past he preferred to remain secret. Yet, this stranger was suggesting he knew about Waldron’s, well, proclivities, the likes of which he wished to remain hidden.

“Let’s go there,” the robed man said nodding to the blacksmith.

“Keep that furnace going,” Waldron told Adron and his other two apprentices, Sunron and Nevron. “We’ll need all that ore processed for the Count’s order. Keep going.”

“As you wish sir,” Nevron said and nodded his blond head at his other fellows.

“Right through here,” Waldron smiled and led the hooded man and the wolf toward a side door, thick with paint and soot. The man ducked into the room and Waldron sealed the door behind them.

*****************

“What do you suppose that is all about?” Sunron whispered to Adron, looking over towards the closed door.

“I’m not sure. Not really our business though,” Adron said but he was nervously biting his lip.

In the almost two years of his apprenticeship, Adron had never seen a client request a private meeting. Certainly Waldron had never accommodated such a request before. They made metal objects which simply didn’t require any secrecy. Besides, anything said would quickly be conveyed to them anyway.

Waldron never pretended they mattered. Apprentices were around to produce objects to sell or to warm his bed. Not to be acknowledged as people.

Not that he minded. Waldron could be pretty gentle and kind and Adron was his favorite. He knew that and sometimes took advantage of those times to get an extra piece of fruit or even a sweet from the smith’s pantry. This was weird though. Talking with a patron about business away from the forge and furnace was unusual to say the least.

“You better get more coal into that furnace. It’s starting to cool down too soon,” Nevron shouted at the two other apprentices. “Sunron, keep at the bellows and Adron, get out to the chute and get some more.”

“I don’t think we have much more,” Adron whined. It was cold out and the coal hood was so very heavy. He didn’t mind the hard work but he was still exhausted from Waldron’s bed from last night. “I told Waldron we needed more.”

“You may be able to call him that in his bed,” Nevron warned, looking up at Adron. “But, he’ll beat your pretty little ass if he hears you call him anything but ‘master’ in here.”

Adron swallowed. Nevron was right. The apprentice felt the blush heat his wet cheeks. The walls in the living quarters of the storefront were very thin. Adron never heard a thing when Nevron warmed the master’s bed though he could hear Sunron’s sobbing when it was his turn. His own loud exclamations were probably noted with giggles by his fellow apprentices.

“If we let the furnace grow cold too soon, we’ll all get our backsides lashed,” Sunron puffed still pounding the enormous bellows with his thin arms. “Just go Adron.”

Adron wrapped his threadbare cloak around him and went out into the cold. He took the last of the coal out of the cart and put it into the bucket. With a sigh he pushed the large wooden cart out of the alley and onto the cobbled street toward the Market. It just wasn’t fair.

Adron was the senior apprentice and as such should be attending the furnace while the most junior, Sunron, fetched the fuel. The usual pecking order had been upended by the other two apprentices’ skills at both furnace and forge. Adron could barely manage to extract the precious iron from the rocks even after two years of service. He was useless at the forge. When he tried, it would become a clumsy looking twisted facsimile of the intended object. When Nevron, or even Sunron, worked at shaping the metal they made iron tools and weapons that people marveled over. His work was substandard at best. That’s why he was sent on junior errands and petty tasks. It humiliated him but what could he do.

At least Waldron trusted him with doing the books. Being illiterate, the smith did cyphering and kept the basic inventory list locked up in his head. When Adron showed the man his ability to read and write, the blacksmith had gruffly assigned him that pathetic task while the other two young men got to create the products they sold. As a result, only Adron’s enthusiasm in bed kept Waldron from releasing him and shaming Adron’s family.

He’d have to accept what the fates allowed him.

******************

“Why is the cost so high?” Adron asked the coal merchant after loading the sturdy wood cart with the big black chunks of fuel. “My master will be furious at this price.”

“Waldron’s lucky to get this much,” the tired looking man coated in black dust said. He had on a thick woolen cloak that was also glistening with his product. “There are rumblings of war to the east and evil omens are preventing caravans from coming through. The dwarves are loathe to leave their mines. The next shipment was cancelled. It’s only because of your master’s steady business with me I let him have this much.”

Adron snorted. There were always “evil omens” and “rumblings of war” when coal became dear. It was the coal mongers way of inflating the price. What choice did Adron have? He signed for the cartload and quickly headed back toward the smithy. Hopefully, Waldron’s business with the stranger would make him less cantankerous.

By the time the senior apprentice returned to the smithy, the bright cold sunshine had disappeared behind dark, steel blue clouds and a gray mist was falling. Adron shivered under the thin cloak and was happy to lug a hood of coal into the hot room. As he began feeding the smaller chunks into the furnace, he noticed their master was looking rather grim but not angry. Adron had barely made it back in time and the furnace was dangerously close to cooling.

“Break up those bigger pieces. We need to get the fire hotter than this,” his master said. Adron grabbed the big clunky hammer and began busting up the hard, shiny black coal. “What took so long?”

“Srevmon charged us triple the usual price and I was trying to get him to lower it,” Adron jumped at his master’s voice. “He thinks war is coming or something.”

“That may be,” Waldron said thoughtfully. “We’ll need to start making charcoal if that’s true.”

Adron, Nevron, and Sunron all looked up in surprise. None of them had ever heard the master confirm such a thing before. There were always rumors of war coming from the east but Waldron had never, ever considered them credible threats. Did the stranger tell him something? They wondered.

“I need to test the metal for purity,” Waldron said and grabbed some white powder. Adron continued to break up coal and toss it into the furnace as Nevron took over at the bellows and Sunron skimming the molten metal with a stone ladle.

“Looks about right. Let’s get this poured into the pans to cool. We need to get to the guildhall this afternoon. I need another apprentice, right away,” Waldron said looking directly at the young men.

“Are we-what do you mean?” Sunron choked.

“I want you to come with me to find another apprentice. If we must make charcoal, we’ll need more help. Besides, this new commission will give us more work than we can do without more help.”

“We?” Adron said, shocked. He noticed Nevron’s mouth was wide open as well. “Master, you want us to help?”

“Yes. We will need to work as a team. Nevron and Sunron have shown great promise and Adron, you’ve made the smithy more efficient. I’m still the master but I’ll need you three to take on more responsibilities. It must be this way,” Waldron said taking a deep breath. “The coal monger doesn’t know just how right he really is. Lads, we will soon have more work than we know what to do with.”

The apprentices looked at one another with guarded expressions. They weren’t sure what this meant but it sounded like their apprenticeships were over. They would be Makers now, not novices. Usually it meant guild testing and training at another forge and furnace. Waldron seemed to have single-handed graduated them, all three, even Adron.

“That doesn’t mean we can just stand around staring at each other. Get that crucible poured into the pans to cool. We have much to do,” Waldron said and walked back toward the kitchen door. The three quickly emptied the furnace and banked the coals. Already, the chill of a storm was leaking through the wooden walls of the building and solidifying the iron they’d wrestled from the rocks.

******************

Three days later, at the Pickled Parrot Tavern…

“So, what do you think about that new apprentice?” Sunron asked his newly advanced fellow makers.

“He’s weird,” Nevron said taking a long draw of his tankard. “He won’t talk to anyone except Waldron.”

Adron shifted in his chair. He looked around the dark, smoky room taking in the odd assortment of people sitting there. No one took notice of them in particular. The other people in the room were occupied with their own business and he felt strangely alone even though he was with his fellows, a very different feeling possessed him.

“He’s new. We can’t expect him to just start chatting with us. I feel bad for him,” the young man said looking at his own tankard of ale.

“Why did Waldron suddenly make us Makers?” Sunron asked looking pensively into Adron’s eyes. “It was really strange.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about that,” Adron said taking a sip. “Waldron has been avoiding me ever since.”

“You’re just mad you lost your boyfriend,” Nevron said smirking. “He’s only got eyes for Ganron now.”

Adron scowled at the other man’s characterization. He and Waldron weren’t “together” regardless, though he was missing the older man’s attentions. “I get what Sunron’s saying. This is a strange turn of events. Why did he make me a Maker when I can barely manage the furnace much less fashion a spear point at the forge? Hell, I can’t even quench the metal right. You have to do all that. It just seems there is something else going on.”

“The fact you can’t temper iron is beside the point,” Nevron said looking at the other two in quick succession. “I can’t keep the books and Sunron has trouble with the smelting process. I think he just made us all Makers because as a team we work well together.”

Adron considered what Nevron suggested. It sounded good but rarely did the guild law allow promotion of a team. When he read the rules, they suggested an apprentice must be fully capable by himself before becoming a Maker. Though, a Maker was different than a Journeyman, a Maker was supposed to be a fully trained metalworker who was able to do all the tasks of the trade. When he read the rules to Waldron, the master had laughed at the requirements. Maybe Waldron wanted to make the three men more than just metalworkers in his shop. He did seem to enjoy Adron’s attentions until recently.

“I think the old man’s gone a little cuckoo,” Sunron said gesturing to the barmaid. He’d finished his tankard and was slightly tipsy. The three men weren’t used to undiluted ale and even Adron as the oldest was feeling pretty loose lipped.

“I think that’s pretty nasty to say,” Adron said nodding at his coworker. “Waldron has his reasons for the new way we are doing things.”

“You don’t think it’s odd we are working during the day and the master stays up all night working with the new apprentice by himself?” Nevron said his blonde brows bouncing. Adron had never really paid attention to the other’s looks. Nevron was quite fair even at 19 years while Sunron, at 18, was dark and swarthy with blue shadowed cheeks even after shaving. The effect of the ale and the smoky low light made Nevron appear quite attractive to him, much younger than Waldron but just as grizzly and handsome.

“We have two big commissions,” Adron said finishing his tankard in one fell drink. “We are working on the Count’s order while the master and the new apprentice works on the mysterious stranger’s request.”

“What do you suppose that hooded man’s commission is?” Sunron belched. Adron could see the younger man’s face was already very blotchy and red. Maybe they should head home.

“We have our own work to do,” Nevron said and grimaced at Adron. “I think we should go now.”

“Let me go use the privy first,” Sunron grinned and finished his second ale. The young man looked a bit unstable at first as he stood. But, he regained his bearings and went toward the back of the tavern. Adron watched him and felt a hand grasp his own.

“While he’s gone, I think I should tell you something,” Nevron whispered feverishly. “He’s too young to understand just how weird things really are.”

“What are you talking about?” Adron said pulling away.

“I think you should know Waldron asked me to steal some Luxellium ore for him,” the black haired youth said urgently.

“What? Waldron wouldn’t do that. If the guild found out, he’d be banned and if the Count found out…” Adron said, his voice becoming weak.

“I told him I couldn’t do it because of my family connections. I fear Waldron is desperate and get Sunron to do it. I can’t let that boy…”

“He’ll get caught for sure,” Adron said. Sunron was too young, too innocent and most of all too clumsy to do it. The red-haired man shook his head at the thought. What was Waldron getting them into? This was serious business. The Luxellium ore was very carefully controlled by the county. If it wasn’t done the right way, it would cause a firestorm of alarm.

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle began to come together for Adron. Waldron’s commission with the mysterious man was for magical implements of some sort. The trafficking of the ore was strictly regulated by the Count and forbidden by the guild unless a special license was approved. Adron kept the books and knew Waldron wasn’t allowed to work with Luxellium. Unless…

“Let me talk to Waldron. I’ll get this sorted out and keep Sunron out of it.”

“The old man won’t like you interfering,” Nevron warned and looked up. Adron followed the man’s gaze and could see their fellow returning from the privy. He was weaving about the tables obviously intoxicated.

“I can handle him. Just get Sunron home before he gets into trouble,” Adron said with finality. Nevron’s dark features looked stormy but relief was readily apparent on his face. Adron had always felt a bit envious of the brotherhood between his two colleagues. That didn’t stop him from feeling concern over the youngest one’s peril. Adron was glad Nevron looked out for the guy.

However, what could he do?

He couldn’t just confront the snarling master over a breach of the law. Guild law would require him to tell on Waldron’s attempt to obtain and work with the controlled material. Adron figured he’d just have to go to the Guild Master and the council secretly.

Damn. Waldron would find out though. Suddenly, Adron realized that was why the master made his three apprentices Makers. Makers were forbidden to testify or inform against their business. As apprentices, the guild could question them or accept pleas but as agents of the forge and furnace, they couldn’t speak.

That’s why Waldron had been so “generous.” He was crafty. Adron would be banned from the trade if he breathed even a word about Waldron’s actions. Even if it was illegal, the guild would throw him out.

His family would be ruined when Waldron demanded they refund the indenture money.

No, he needed to get the ore somehow.

“Adron, are you coming?” Sunron slurred and bobbed above the man.

“No. I’m going to finish this and then I’ll be home,” Adron said. He watched as Nevron took the younger man firmly by the shoulders and march him out of the tavern.

“Later,” Nevron said with a wink.

“Yeah,” Adron said and took a judicious sip. He needed his senses fully aware if he was going to figure out how to get the ore. Adron’s careful and logical mind took over. He needed to figure out where the holes in the system might be.

Luxellium was mined from the cliffs of Luxell by chained servants for life. They would extract to ore and put it in a cart. The cart would be carefully weighed by the overseer who recorded the weight. The cart would then go to the county warehouse where it would be weighed again. From there, the ore would be stored until the special master sighed out a specific amount to an approved vendor. The special master appointed an official to watch and record the processing of the ore weighing the waste and the metal. Since Luxellium didn’t bond with other metals or minerals, it couldn’t be mixed with anything. When it was suspended with other materials, it remained distinct, fused yet pure.

Damn, Adron could see no holes in their system.

“There is one hole,” Adron heard a voice say behind his ear. He turned his head but there wasn’t anyone directly behind him.

“I must be hearing voices,” the redhead muttered to himself.

“You are hearing voices but they aren’t your own,” he heard again. Adron looked around but everyone else in the tavern was either drinking or talking amongst themselves. No one was looking at him or paying him attention at all.

“There must be a sorcerer about,” Adron whispered to himself.

“No. Wrong again. But, I can tell you what you need to know,” the voice said and this time it wasn’t behind him but from right in front of his face. Yet, no one was there.

“Who are you?” Adron asked softly into his tankard.

“If you need a name, I guess you can call me Asmo,” the voice said. Adron was wary of any kind of magic, especially the invisible kind but he wondered what the disembodied voice had to offer.

“Asmo, what do you know about Luxellium?”

“I know it lies in the ground and anyone with a pickaxe can dig it up. There are veins of it where the Count has no guards protecting it.”

“How do you know such things?” Adron whispered.

“I know things that would make your skin crawl,” the voice of Asmo said and Adron could feel his flesh prickled with sensations of knowing. The voice held deep magic, more frightening than he’d ever experienced before. “Let me lead you to it and you’ll be rewarded.”

“How can I trust you?” Adron said standing up. He noticed others at nearby tables were now looking at him. He spoke too loudly and he could feel the stares pointing directly at him.

“I better be going,” Adron said to no one and yet to everyone around him. He could feel the eyes follow him as he rushed out of the Pickled Parrot and into the street. The voice didn’t return any comment as the young man jogged the few blocks to Waldron’s forge and furnace. But, the words he’d heard stayed with him as he crawled into bed with a snoring Sunron and sleeping Nevron. Purposely, he kept his distance from the other two men.

Adron felt violated.

The next morning, he washed himself twice but the feeling of being used was too filthy to be rinsed away.

“Adron, can I speak with you,” Waldron’s voice jolted the redhead out of his funk from behind the kitchen door.

“Yes sir,” Adron said drying his hands and pulling on his tunic and shivering. He feared what would happen next. Adron stepped through the doorway and saw his soot blackened master with red eyes looking at him.

“What’s going on with you?” Waldron asked.

“Nothing sir. I just had a pint too many last night.”

“Oh. Can you come to my room with me?” Waldron asked, and Adron noticed he said so quite sweetly. The younger man’s heart raced. Was Waldron seeking his comfort? He missed the big man so much these past few nights. The voice was forgotten, for the moment.

“Sure.”

Adron followed the master upstairs to his bedroom. It was dirty and messy as always. Ganron was already asleep on the bed. Adron hadn’t seen much of the lad since he’d been chosen and named. The little guy was adorable, his half-gnomic features so miniature compared with his own. The young man was curled into a ball with his hands tucked under his face.

“Let’s not wake him,” Waldron said and motioned toward the next room, a kind of dressing and sitting room off the main bedroom area. “I need a favor.”

“What is it sir?” Adron asked but considering the conversation last night, he knew what it was about. Nevron had been wrong. Waldron wasn’t going to ask Sunron. He was going to ask him to steal the ore.

“You know as a Maker in this business, you have to do what is necessary for a commission,” Waldron began. “Sometimes we even have to do things that aren’t completely legal. We do what we must.”

Adron nodded and waited for the request. Waldron looked so lost and confused. He looked more tired than he ever had before. His wrinkles were more pronounced and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“I need a few pieces of Luxellium ore. Before you object, remember, I made you a Maker. Your responsibility is to the business. The guild won’t mind if I just get a few pieces of ore and what the Count doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Waldron wouldn’t look Adron in the eye as he lied.

“I understand,” Adron squeaked. “But how do you expect me to get it?”

“The special master of the Count’s ore warehouse is a friend of mine. I’m sure you could use some of your-errr…talents to get him to slip you a few chunks,” Waldron stammered. He ran a finger along Adron’s arm for emphasis and the younger man could see the blush rise on his master’s cheeks under the soot. Seducing the special master would be trickier than that. Waldron must be quite desperate if he thought that might work. Adron simply nodded though. He figured maybe that disembodied voice had more to do with this than anything. Waldron looked positively driven and distraught. Adron supposed there was some serious enchantment going on for his master to propose such a ridiculous scheme.

“I’ll get you the ore but I’ll have to do it my way,” Adron said. Waldron just nodded and left the room. Adron thought his master probably didn’t want to know how the young man was going to get it. Ignorance couldn’t be divined from a mind.

For the next two days, Adron worked and waited for the voice in his head to return. To no avail, his head contained only his own thoughts. However, after banking the furnace for the night on the third day, the voice spoke to him.

“Take the half-gnome with you and I’ll lead you to the source,” Adron heard that voice say quietly.

“But how?” Adron whispered to himself.

“In the wee hours, your master will find himself asleep at the forge. Take the half gnome and go down to the High Bridge. The boy will know where to go.”

Adron didn’t respond. He washed, ate a little supper and tumbled into bed. He had trouble falling asleep as the fear rippled in his chest. After the moon rose, he fell into a troubled slumber; sure he wouldn’t awake in time.

As the moon set, Adron heard a rooster, far in the distance crowing though it was still pitch black. He sat up and saw his bedmates hadn’t moved. They certainly hadn’t heard the noise. Sunron lay in the arms of Nevron snuggled up to his front. Adron smiled as he slipped out of bed and into his tunic and leggings. It was cool out so he added a cloak from the hallway and quietly he padded down the stairs to the forge and furnace.

“We don’t have much time,” Adron heard from the shadows. It wasn’t the disembodied voice this time. It was Ganron who stepped into the flickering light from the burning embers. The little half-gnome was already dressed in a small cloak with he had a stern grin on his face. Though young, there were white whiskers adorning his cheeks and chin. His upper lip was smooth and Adron wondered how those lips tasted.

His nervousness made that question slip from his head. Adron just nodded and followed Ganron out the door.

“Don’t forget a pickaxe,” the apprentice said and Adron grabbed the tool. He put it in a leather bag and hoisted it on his shoulder. “My true master won’t be happy if we don’t do his bidding.”

“Does he speak to you too?” Adron asked looking down at the white headed guy.

“He doesn’t need to speak to me,” Ganron said and gestured for Adron to follow.

The two young men hurried down the dirt streets of the New Quarter toward the Market Square. Adron saw shadowy figures ducking into alleys and darting past them. He had a new concern. Would thieves and Night bandits hold them up? He didn’t have any money and doubted the new apprentice did either. If they did get stopped, how would they pay off their attackers?

As they rushed along, Adron touched Ganron’s cloak to get his attention. Perhaps they’d better leave the streets and walk along the river where no one could see them.

“Never mind them,” Ganron answered Adron’s unspoken question. “They won’t notice us.”

It was then Adron looked at a couple of Night bandits in their slick blue county garb walk right past them. They didn’t seem to see either of them and strolled right by. Adron watched as the gendarmes collared a young couple in the Old Quarter and charged them for their passage. They were only a few lengths away and never bothered Ganron or him.

What was going on?

The two crossed the bridge and the bridgekeep never said a word to them. Adron felt like he was invisible. He presumed they’d have to climb the rails to get across since they had no money for the toll. But, the bridgekeep just looked the other way as the men passed.

“This way,” Ganron hissed and pulled Adron’s arm towards the river bank.

“Where are we going? The mines are south of here.”

“We’re not going to the mines,” Ganron said. “They’re guarded. The Master found some ore elsewhere.”

The two men walked quickly, the half-gnome far faster than Adron would have thought possible given his short legs. The bank of the river was grassy and slick and Adron fell a couple of times, cursing quietly. Each time, Ganron would tug him back to his feet and pull him forward. Finally, as tiny streaks of dawn began to creep up in the east, they came upon an embankment filled with thorny bushes.

“Quickly, we must get into the boat and get out to the isle. If they see us in the daylight, we’ll be caught and then your fate will be worse than mine,” Ganron hissed. Adron stopped.

“What does that mean?”

“Just get in the boat and row,” Ganron said and started pushing the little craft onto the water. Adron jumped in and grabbed the oars. He hadn’t been on a boat since he was a child but the skill came right back to him. Before the false dawn ended, they came ashore on the isle and pulled the boat into a copse of trees.

“Grab that pickaxe and start digging over there,” Ganron urged pointing toward a little hole in the soil embankment.

“That’s not a mine. It’s just a little impression in the dirt,” Adron said shaking his head. “There’s no ore in that dirt.”

“Just dig, by the gods, or we’ll both be sorry,” Ganron pushed the larger man toward the hole.

At first, all Adron struck was soft dirt and a thicket of grass roots. After pulling some dirt out of the impression, he swung the pick again and hit something hard, very hard. The redhead got on his knees and pulled the dirt away. There were rocks in here. What the rocks contained, he couldn’t see in the gloom. Using a knife from his belt, he began to pry the rocks away from each other. He carefully placed them in the bag.

Adron worked quickly pulling the rocks out of the hole. “I hope these are what Waldron needs because I can’t tell.”

“It’s what is required,” Ganron said quietly standing at some distance from where Adron worked. After the young man had a dozen rocks in the bag, he heard Ganron behind him.

“That’s enough. We have to get back across the river, fast. Dawn is approaching.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Adron said standing up and brushing the dirt from his leggings. He put the pickaxe back into the bag and they went back to the boat. As they shoved off, Adron heard a voice calling.

“What are you two doing here?”

“Nothing. We’re just leaving,” Ganron said and jumped into the boat. “There’s no time Yadrey. We must hurry.”

“How did you know my name?” Adron asked as he pushed the boat stern first into the water.

“I know many things,” Ganron said. “Let’s get across and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Adron jumped into the boat and began rowing propelling the little boat across the gentle current.

“You two, stop this instance. What did you steal from me?” Adron saw the old man shaking his fist and yelling. A few people joined him and two other men were carrying a boat similar to their own. “Get them!”

“Row, Addie, faster,” Ganron shrieked. “We just need to get to the bank. Hurry or they’ll catch us.”

Adron rowed as fast as he could though the other boat with two men was coming closer with each stroke. The boat was only about five lengths from them when Adron felt the impact of the shoreline. It was too late. These men would chase them down and drag them back to the isle.

As soon as they found the illegal ore in his bag, they would be sentenced to death. Adron swallowed hard and threw the bag into the bushes. Maybe if they didn’t find the ore they’d just whip them for trespass.

“What are you doing?” Ganron squealed as he jumped from the boat. “Come on. Grab the bag and let’s get out of here.”

“If they find the ore…”Adron didn’t finish. He’d climbed out of their boat and looked over at the two men who had just landed.

“We’re done for,” Adron said. “Don’t let them see the bag.”

Ganron laughed at him. Adron looked at him, puzzled. What was so funny? They would both be beaten within an inch of their lives. Trespass of Geni’s Isle was a serious offense.

“Look at them,” Ganron chuckled and pointed.

Adron looked at the men as they looked around them, confused. In fact, the two men looked everywhere except directly at them.

“By the gods, where did they go?” the bearded man said to his obese companion.

“I saw them right there in that boat but now they’re gone.”

“Must’ve slipped under these bushes,” they said and began rustling through the thorns and leaves, sticks and twigs.

“They can’t see us?” Adron whispered to the little half-gnome.

“No, and they can’t hear us either. Not on this side of the water,” Ganron chuckled. “Just grab the bag and let’s go. The charm will wear off pretty soon.”

“Did your Master give you this charm?” Adron smiled at his new friend.

“No silly. I’m half gnome. I can keep prying eyes and ears from noticing us,” Ganron said grinning from ear to ear. “But, I can’t cover you and the ore forever so let’s get moving.”

On the way back to the city, Adron had lots of questions for Ganron.

“So, tell me how you did you get connected with Asmo,” he asked.

“It’s a long story,” Ganron answered grimly. “It all starts with my family.”

“Huh?” Adron said. “What does this mage have to do with your family?”

“I don’t think Asmo is a mage or wizard at all. I think he’s much more powerful but it all started with my birth.”

“When I was born, nobody knew my father was a gnome. My mother never told her family. They just thought he was a traveling stranger. She died when she gave birth to me so my grandparents raised me. By the time I got to be five years old and grew whiskers, they knew the truth. I’m a Halfling gnome. My grandparents always treated me well and growing up on a farm in the Ga River valley up north, I was kept away from other people.”

“My grandparents died in a fire and I had nowhere to go so I decided to find my father. I trekked up into the Duranic Forest high in the mountains. A kindly old gnome-wife took pity on me and led me to him. Needless to say, he was shocked. He welcomed me but I never really fit in with them either. Most gnomes didn’t trust me especially when my father was captured shortly after my arrival.”

“Asmo came to me and promised if I accepted a geas, my father would be freed. The geas Asmo placed on me was to do whatever was necessary to make a Luxellium device. I realized there was nothing else I could do but save my father. I accepted and so I promised to be an apprentice to Waldron and secure the ore.”

“I don’t understand. Why couldn’t you just go get the ore by yourself? Why drag me along with you?” Adron asked.

“I can’t touch it. The ore makes gnomes sick, so I couldn’t chance it. That’s why I needed your help.”

Ganron smiled and shrugged. There was something in that smile that changed Adron’s heart. That grin warmed his insides.

From that time going forward, Adron spent as much time as he could with the half-gnome. After they got back to the shop, Waldron woke up and took the Luxellium ore without comment. Ganron never said a word to their master about his role in the caper. Adron didn’t either. But, the little guy was so much fun, the red-haired man couldn’t be around him enough. Even though they worked opposite times, Adron would stay home from the Pickled Parrot just to be with Ganron. Ganron would stay up and chat while Adron stoked the furnace just to keep him company.

Adron was falling in love with him.

After a couple of weeks of hanging around each other, Waldron forbid Adron from being in the forge and furnace room at night. Ganron would sneak away from time to time and the two would share kisses and more amorous embraces when they could. Being denied of each other’s company only made each young man more eager to be together.

Waldron also became more and more tense and exhausted with each night’s work and would snap at them if he found them together.

It was during one of these times when Adron was sneaking out that he found something troubling. Ganron was out working the charcoal pit and Waldron thought he was alone at the forge.

Waldron had always let Adron do the books but for this mysterious commission, the master wouldn’t let his charge see the formulas. That seemed especially strange given Waldron’s illiteracy. Finally, Adron’s curiosity got the better of him. He snuck into the forge at midnight to see what Waldron was doing.

The big, burly, bearded man was at the forge shaping some metal, a metal Adron had never seen before because it glowed bright green in the heat. Adron presumed the rod the master was fashioning must be the Luxellium and while Waldron was beating it with a hammer, he was singing something, in a language he didn’t recognize at first.

It sounded melodic but in a sinister sort of way, with weird minor chords throughout. Adron listened at the door and finally made out a few of the words. Waldron was singing in Andoan, the language of mages. Adron had been introduced to a few non-magical words in school. It wasn’t a language that was easy to learn being an occult tongue. But, Adron recognized a few choice words.

Waldron was singing the words “flesh, weigh, and temper,” which seemed like a bizarre collection of terms. Adron puzzled over that for a moment, then realized it must be a spell casting into the Luxellium. Waldron was enchanting the metal which everyone knew kept its magic forever. It was one of the reasons it was so controlled. The master must be creating a magic sword or daggers or something.

But, why would he use the words “flesh and temper?” Maybe instead of being a sword, it was a healer’s wand or rod. Perhaps this would bring down fevers or fight infections. But, why would Waldron hide such a great thing? Waldron had gotten the Luxellium ore from Adron himself so why hide it?

Adron figured it was just the master being secretive for his own sake. The young man went to bed and tossed and turned all night. Finally he fell asleep and just a few moments later, he was being shaken by a hand. He turned and saw it was Nevron. The young man looked at him curiously and with wide open eyes.

“You were talking in your sleep Adron. Why are you talking about magic wands and tempering?” Nevron asked.

Adron told him about Waldron’s chanting a spell and the Andoan words he was using. Nevron was shocked at his retrieval of the Luxellium ore and Ganron’s role in the task. After Adron finished telling the tale, Nevron sat in silence shaking his head.

“What’s the matter?” Adron asked, noting the usually glib man’s silence.

“I think I know what Waldron’s doing,” Nevron said and a cold chill went through Adron. Nevron whispered his fears to Adron and told him about his uncle the storyteller and his tale of the abandonment of a nearby hamlet. As Nevron spoke, Adron grew more and more alarmed. He had to get Ganron out of there, the sooner the better. He couldn’t let this happen to the only person he truly loved. His family’s shame would be horrible, but Ganron meant more to him.

Adron quickly dressed and rushed outside to the charcoal pit. He grabbed Ganron’s arm and whispered to him. The half-gnome began shivering and shaking his head. Without taking a thing, the two men raced into the night straight for the only place they could think of for sanctuary; the brothels of Northwest Rambles. It was there two guild-less tradesmen could hide in plain sight.

***************

Waldron was furious. How could Adron have figured out the deal he had with Asmo? There was no way the demi-god would have told the young blacksmith and the deal with Ganron had been ironclad. The two of them had disappeared just as the final tempering of the Luxellium was about to happen. Now he was out of the necessary implement for quenching the metal. Asmo’s agent didn’t know anything about the spell and the special attributes of the implement he was building so he couldn’t turn to Taranis for help. Nevron and Sunron openly avoided him when they could.

What was he going to use to temper the rod? Without the proper method, the spell wouldn’t take and his commission wouldn’t be paid. Damn that insightful little bastard Adron. As he was walking to the Pickled Parrot, he saw a sight that gave him an idea. That just might work, binding the spell and making the machine work just as Asmo wanted. At night, no one would know what had happened.

****************

“Of course, I’d be happy to have a couple of comely lads such as you here,” the Madame of the brothel said. She was short, thickly built and in a beautiful green brocade gown. Her dwarfish features were more delicate than most. Endora was no longer young but for some clientele, she still made their blood race. However, she was also a very sharp woman who knew two well-fed and muscled young men were in some kind of trouble. If it was with the law, she’d have no part of it.

“I have to know what you’re running from,” she said and tapped her stick on her chair.

Ganron and Adron looked at each other and shrugged. They had little choice. Without any money or even clothes, they’d never escape Gaia-Town without some help. The brothel was their only answer.

“My master was going to use Ganron here to temper a sword,” Adron gushed. “We came here because there is no place else for us to go.”

“I don’t understand,” Endora said, squinting at the two. “How do you temper a sword with a person?”

“We stole some Luxellium ore and our master is imbuing the metal with a spell. To make the enchantment set into the metal, a magical being must be used to quench the object. Our master hired me to do that. We realized this when Adron here heard the words he was using. Another of our brother smiths recalled stories about the first use of Luxellium for weapons and how an entire hamlet of gnomes disappeared from Ando a century ago. Please, let us stay and work for you.” Ganron pleaded.

Endora didn’t say anything at the young men’s outburst, but the look of disgust on her face was obvious. She sighed, her large bosoms heaving, and looked at them.

“You know what you’ll have to do, right? I don’t have room for men to just carry out ashes and bring water. I’ll need you to take clients as well,” Endora said shining one of her red polished nails with a buffer.

“We’ll do whatever we need to,” Adron said.

“Okay. That’s fine but first you both need to change your names. Everyone is going to know your past trade with that infernal “-ron” at the end.

“My real name is Zegan,” the half-gnome said. “I don’t mind using it here.”

“My name is Yadrey. I’ll use that here. I have nothing left to hide in the outside world,” the red-head said with finality. “My life is bound to Zegan’s.”

The white-haired half-gnome smiled broadly and took one of his friend’s hands. They looked sadly to each other.

“This is a working brothel and you’ll be professional at all times on the main floor. I can’t have lovers’ quarrels.” Endora said firmly. She was shocked by the men’s tale, but not surprised. In the many years she’d lived, tales of the horrific things people did for power no longer stunned her.

Both men promised and were given a room together upstairs. Yadrey held Zegan in his arms as the half-gnome quietly sobbed himself to sleep.

***********************

Waldron smirked as he walked to his shop. Nevron and Sunron had been sent to the Pickled Parrot with a pocketful of coin and now he’d finally finish his commission. The old hag following him would work perfectly for what he wanted. Perhaps an old Guihanlan wasn’t really a magical creature but he remembered from his mage studies over a hundred and fifty years ago in Ando that these people could mask the effect. There would be no way Asmo could determine the spell was only permanent on a temporary basis. Certainly his agent Taranis couldn’t discovery the ruse, at least until it was too late.

You see, the payment for Waldron was escape from his exile in Gaia-Town. He’d finally be free to return to the Magehall in his beloved Ando and the freedom and power that would afford him. Not even Asmodeus could reach him at Magehall. Waldron was sure about that.

The old desert hag was a soothsayer who couldn’t even divine her own death. He’d lured her with the promise of a bottle of Granumore liquor and a few coins for an “experiment” he was conducting. She didn’t know the “experiment would involve her guts cooling the glowingly hot rod of Luxellium he’d crafted for the contraption Asmo wanted.

It would be fun and it made Waldron almost giggle.

*********************

“How’re you holding up?” Yadrey asked Zegan. While he had plenty of experience with sweaty old men huffing and puffing themselves to completion on him, he feared the little half-gnome wouldn’t have it so easy. But, the white-haired young man simply smiled at him and said.

“It’s not so bad. I just pretend it’s you,” he giggled.

“Oh gods no. You’ll never want to be with me then,” Yadrey laughed. They had to keep their distance downstairs in the lounge. Endora had strict rules about showing any pair-bonding in front of the clientele. She sold fantasy and a loving couple was a special request, not something they wanted to display.

“I’ll never get that flabby dwarf mixed up with my dreams of you,” Zegan said and walked over to a couple of businessmen who had been watching him dance earlier. The only way to make money at Endora’s is to capture a steady group of men who wanted to give them gifts. Most of the fee went into Endora’s expansive “treasure chest.”

Yadrey looked around as well. There were a couple of elves who looked pretty interested in him.

*********************

The forge was so hot it was oppressive in the room. The single rod of Luxellium was finally glowing bright green and shooting off sparks. The old hag had drunk plenty of liquor and was now taking a little nap in the kitchen. Waldron was about ready to quench the Luxellium rod. His bags were packed. He’d sent a page to get Taranis in two hours’ time. The rest of the contraption had been built and was ready to load into the ranger’s cart.

With some steel tongs, he grabbed the steaming rod and headed for the kitchen. He just needed to plunge the rod in for a minute and then it would cool quite quickly.

Waldron opened the door. The hag was still snoring, a line of drool falling from her toothless mouth. He readied himself for the plunge and…

*****************

It happened so fast, later Yadrey wouldn’t know how to describe it. Somehow a raving Guihanla man wielding a knife got past the guards and into the lounge. He was ranting about a prophecy and lunged toward where Zegan was. Before the knife could pierce his lover’s guts, Yadrey cried out, NO!!!” and ran toward the crazed man. The redhead screamed as the long knife went deeply into the white-haired half-gnome’s stomach.

“NOOOO!!!” Yadrey howled as Zegan fell backwards onto the floor, smoking blood pooling at his feet. The Guihanla man shook his head, looked at what he’d done, and fainted.

*****************

When the glowing green rod went into the hag’s middle, she opened her eyes and laughed, hysterically. Waldron’s mouth dropped open as she howled in mirth.

“You can’t cheat Asmo, you fool. He’s gonna get you,” she said and her head dropped down.

Waldron pulled the rod out of the slumped woman. Instead of a burnt hole where the rod had been, a long slice was red and fresh.

Maybe Asmo could get him.

******************

“There’s nothing we can do Yaddie. He’s gone,” Endora said to the sobbing man. “Just let it out.” The Madame was leaning over the young man, who held the dead half-gnome in his arms.

“How could this happen? I dragged him here to save his life. I thought he’d be safe. But, he’s just as dead.” Yadrey wailed.

“I’ve checked with the front door and the guards in the antechamber. Nobody saw him. It means there’s been some sorcery going on. Oh, Yaddie, I feel so bad,” Endora cooed trying to sooth the stricken man. This shouldn’t have happened. The wards should have held.

Endora couldn’t get the image of the smoking hole in the half-gnome’s guts out of her head. It had been a knife taken from the crazed desert man, nothing that would cause this kind of wound. She’d only seen that once before.

Once.

******************

“Asmo said I should use this to test the machine,” Taranis said. The ranger’s wolf had been growling ever since they’d arrived at the shop. Taranis demanded they set up the machine to see if it worked.

“I followed all the specifications,” Waldron grunted. All he wanted to do was get a horse and head for the Kanhda Pass and the power of Ando. As soon as Taranis took possession of the scale, he was out of there.

“Okay, if the amulet glows, it works,” the ranger said putting it next to the now cooled Luxellium rod. Sure enough, the amulet showed a bright pink light that filled the shop. “Looks like it’s signed, sealed, and delivered,” he muttered.

“Did he give you the scroll?”

“Yeah, here it is. I just want to be done with this business. I’m not sure why I accepted Asmo’s job in the first place. I don’t like much of what he does.”

“Well, I’m just glad to be out of here,” Waldron said. His name would be Thoewald from now on. He could leave Gaia-Town forever.

********************

“What is this thing anyway?” Taranis asked Asmodeus through the scrying ball. “It looks like a big scale.”

“That’s what it is,” the disembodied voice said in the ranger’s head. “It’s my little way of getting a portion of the Luxellium trade without the King or the mages knowing.”

“How does it work?”

“It weighs the ore and magically transports part of it to my storeroom,” Asmodeus laughed. “They’ll never know.”

“Are you sure that blacksmith did everything you wanted?” Taranis asked. He didn’t really want to know but if it didn’t work, he wanted his ass covered.

“Oh, he tried to fool me but the geas I placed on the little gnome boy and the Guihanla woman and her son did the trick. It will work according to my plan. Anyway, that stupid Ando mage will soon find his commission isn’t worth the vellum it’s written on. He deserves what the mages will do to him.”

Asmodeus had ways of knowing things. Ways that would make the ranger’s skin crawl if he knew. For example, during the upcoming war, having a supply of Luxellium to trade on the black market would be useful. And perhaps, essential given what he knew was happening. Asmo figured he’d make the King and the mages pay for their deceit. War was coming and that was really a good thing for a merchant like him.

“So the job is complete and you are satisfied?” Taranis leaned over and scratched Fearghas’ furry head.

“Yes, of course. Good job and your payment will be coming soon. Very soon,” Asmodeus laughed and the ranger didn’t like the sound of it.

Not one bit.