Beers and Beards-Chapter 38Book 4: : Those Left Behind

The wait for Balin to return was excruciating. The mood was not helped by all the family and friends of our ragtag heroes that had moved into the Thirsty Goat over the past day.

Between worried children, terrified parents, wailing husbands and wives, and Annie pacing back and forth until she drilled a hole into the floor, my only solace was a fluffy little white princess.

I held Penelope close, offering what prayers I could to the Gods for Balin’s safe return. After all, wasn’t I one of only eight people on the planet able to casually call on the Gods for favours?

*Baaaahhhh* [Translated from Prima Donna Goat] “Hush, peasant. Everything will be fine. Your princess is here.”

“I hope so, Penelope,” I mumbled. I really, really hoped that the casual little display this morning hadn’t called me up a whole mess of trouble. As it was, Elijah and all the other elven brass were already treating me with a whole lot of uncomfortable respect.

At least Duke Schist wasn’t any different.

“Don’t suppose you could ask the Gods to do my paperwork for me, Pete?” The Duke asked, as he bent over the table, scribbling on paperwork. “And I could really go for a smoke right now. I hear Barck has tha best leaf in all creation?”

“Do you really think that’s how it all works?” I grumbled. “And don’t you have duke-ing to do?”

I pointed to the command tent, which took up a hefty chunk of the far end of the Liminal Inn. As civilians had poured in over the course of the day, we’d decided to move all the decision-making somewhere more out of the way. A big burlap tent and some guards and voila! A completely *Inn* – secure military outpost.

I tried to summon up a nyuck, but just wasn’t in the mood.

Schist snorted. “I’m not a military dwarf so I’d just be in tha’ way right now. If they need me fer’ somethin’ official, or there’s news, they’ll just send another runner.”

I scowled. “Speaking of running things. Have we heard from Tree? Why was the barrage late?”

Reports on the assault were being sent back through the doors every minute. Right now they had the area completely secured, and the Sprites were only making probing attacks.

Schist scratched at his beard. “Aye, oddest thing. Reports from Tree say the King himself was holdin’ the army back. There was nearly a bloody brawl in tha command tent in front o’ tha palace over it. Looks like tha’ Generals won out and finally got the mages firin’ at will.”

My eyes widened. “But… why?”

Schist shrugged. “Dunno. He’s elfin’ mad?”

There was a *Ahem* and we looked up. Standing beside us was Ambassador Failith of the United Beast Tribes.

I switched to ‘professional’ tone. “Ambassador. I’m surprised. I didn’t realize you were here.”

Failith waved his fur-covered hand, “Yes, whell, we stayed pretty much locked in ouhr room. We had much to tahlk and worry about, and many of ouhr people were injured in the initial attack. Your Aqua has been very helpful.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Failith rubbed at the base of his horns, “Yes, well, ouhr luck does seem poor these days. Mayhaps Barck is displeased with us for some reason. Though I guess you would know?” He gave a nervous giggle.

I frowned. Great. So it was spreading. “Where’s the grumpy one? Marco whatisface. Haven’t you two been connected at tha’ hip?”

Failith’s face fell. “He went through the door to help. He refused to stand by while innocents were in danger. Even after the elf king rebuffed ouhr call for aid. I hope he returns alive; he’s very important to us.”

My estimation of the grumpy beastman went up a notch. “Maybe the King will change his mind after he sees you helping?”

“The current King is not such a person in my estimation. He is power hungry and selfish. As are many nobility; this is a trait not unique to the elves.”

I thought back to the high dwarven nobles. While they maybe weren’t AS bad as what I’d seen of the worst of the elves, they could still be a problem. More headstrong, definitely, but not 4000 years of bad habits bad.

“Well, I hope he comes back safe. And that the elves look kindly on his service.” I said, giving Failith a genuine smile then turning back to Schist. Marco was out there trying to keep the door open so my brother could come home? That forgave any and all previous slights. Nether, he could call me ‘stumpy legs with the ugly beard’ and I’d still forgive him.

Okay, maybe not if he insulted my beard. But stumpy was fine.

“Will you? Even if you knew that he was your competition?” Failith muttered.

My gaze darted back at him, sharply. “What did you say?”

He continued, as though in a daze. “Marco was sent to ouhr people by Aaron. A focal point for ouhr revolution and the freedom of ouhr peoples. He has done soh much, but he is unable to solve our final problem. No-one is able or willing. Except perhaps, you.”

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I blinked. Then blinked again. WHAT!?

Failith continued, his sharp smile a sick rictus. “The Elf King told us what you are. I admit that we already had our suspicions, and this morning confirmed it. You are one of the eight. To be honest, Marco is not fighting just for the elves, he is there because we want you. We need you, Lord Roughtuff.”

I held up a hand and Failith choked to a halt. We weren’t exactly the center of attention, but there were definitely people hanging around, hoping Schist would drop any news about the fight. Just because I’d made a big show this morning didn’t mean I was going around advertising who I was to everyone. There’d been so much noise and chaos around the command table that outside of people whose job it was to know everything, I was still just ‘The Forefather of Brewing’ and not ‘Chosen of the God Barck’.

And I wanted to keep it that way.

“Not right now, but I promise we’ll talk after.” I leaned forward and whispered. “And keep that quiet if you want me to do anything for you.”

Failith paled, but stayed firm. “We will speak later, then. We appreciate your aid. We know you are an honourable dwarf and will help those who –”

To my surprise, Schist was the one who answered, in a severe and rather angry tone. “He’ll hear you out later, beast, he is a dwarf of honour. Which is more’n I can say about you, ambushin’ him like this. Now begone!”

Failith bowed, muttering, “Of course your Grace.” Then he scampered off and up the stairs with his tail literally between his legs.

“What was that??” I muttered, still shellshocked. I had not been expecting to find one of the Chosen today. Though, based on what little I knew of Marco’s past, it certainly made sense.

“He was tryin’ to get you to promise somethin’ while you were all strung up,” Schist growled. “Not nice.”

I felt my pounding heart begin to calm, and realized that my face was flushed. I took a deep calming breath. “Phew. Aye, I know that one. ‘Assumptive Sale’ it’s called. It’s a hard sale technique, like a ‘limited time offer’ or ‘false scarcity’, where you artificially keep supply low. He was wordin’ it like I’d already agreed. I’d have shoved him off.”

Schist smacked me on the shoulder. “Aye, but you didn’t.”

I rubbed my temples. “No, I didn’t. Thanks Schist.”

“That’s yer Grace, to you, young lordling. And I’m guessin’ that you’re the reason that Whistlemugs are always ‘special edition’ and so damn hard to find?” He scowled.

“Mebbe, yer Graaaace.” I drawled.

A gnomish runner interrupted our good natured jibing. “Lord Roughtuff, Duke Schist. We’ve heard that the assault team was spotted on the third floor.”

“That’s where tha rift is!” I surged to my feet. Schist did as well, and we ran to the command tent.

We were let through by the guards and burst into a hive of activity.

“So they’ve begun. Any word from the ballroom?” The elf from this morning with all the fancy frills, who I’d learned was a general, barked.

An elf in the Awemedinand army uniform snapped to attention and shouted, “Yes, sir! Miss Isabella of Raptor’s Respite was sent back, but has chosen to continue aiding from the back lines.”

The general moved some pieces on the command table. “What did she say?”

“They’ve punched through the defense. She thinks that they’re past the main force. Unless the entire Stampede hits them at once, they’ll probably make it there. The only question is how well the rift is defended.”

The general closed his eyes, and gripped the table. The tension in the room ratched up a notch at the same time.

Five minutes passed, then ten, as runners continued to stream in from Tree. The bombardment from the elven army was continuing without abatement, as hordes of Tender Sprites and their minions continued to stream out of the Palace. Reports of magical explosions caused by enchanted items were increasing frequency, which caused no end of angry chaos.

“How are they doing this? Why are they doing it!?” David moaned, as news came in of an enormous blast that had taken out a whole wing of the palace.

“They don’t usually use magical items?” I asked curiously.

“Never,” David ground out. “Monsters just don't… care about tools or equipment. They certainly don’t supercharge them with Mana then toss them back!”

“I noticed that the kobolds were interested in tools as well, when they attacked the docks in Crack.” I mused.

“Aye, it’s been a pattern. They’ve been takin’ tools and runnin’.” Schist said. “Damn strange. Though nothin’ magical like the Sprites.”

Suddenly, we heard shouting, and then screaming coming from the inn. We looked at each other, then ran. There was a momentary traffic jam at the door to the tent, before the general growled and just cut through the burlap with his sword and made his own door. Schist shrugged and followed him through, and then we were sprinting between the tables.

We arrived just in time to see Annie pounce on a very shiny and wet looking Balin and Elijah. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Cheers rose up, with shouts of “Goldenlight!” and “Prince Elijah!”

“The rift is closed!” Prince Elijah roared, holding his fist high. “And the Sprites are being wiped out by the army! We’ve won!”

The crowd roared in response.

But all I had eyes or ears for were my brother. I pushed through the crowd, and grabbed him from behind in a backwards hug.

Then pulled back in horror as slime *splatched* all over my chest.

“By all the Unholy Yams of Yearn. What is this!?” I choked. “Agh! It stinks!!! Gods! It’s everywhere!!”

“Nothin’. Nobody asked. I’m not sayin’ anything.” Balin muttered, holding Annie close. “It was an easy fight. Now shove off before I shave yer beard.”