A long, squat building of wood and stone sat behind a defensive stone wall about three hundred yards outside of the village. The wall ran alongside the north side of the road for almost fifty yards. Defensive positions topped the wall and archers could be seen scanning the landscape surrounding the compound. A contingent of soldiers blocked the road at the far end of the wall.

The caravan stopped several yards short of the soldiers in the road. Three of the mounted soldiers from the garrison rode forward to meet Tybour, Haningway, Rishmond and Norft as they continued on from where the caravan stopped.

The leader of the garrison stopped her horse, turning the big grey gelding a bit sideways. The garrison commander was a striking woman, her exposed skin was tanned a golden brown and her muscles rippled as she reigned in her horse. Her raven black hair was gathered in a tight braid that started at the top of her head and jutted upward several inches, held there by coils of silver and gold. The tight braid cascaded down to the middle of her back. Her armor was polished but obviously used, minimalistic, functional, designed for movement as well as protection. A bright, metallic green tattoo at the top of her breast bone caught the morning light. A glittergreen tattoo of the ancient sigil of strength.

"Well met, Major Asherton," spoke Tybour. His voice was smooth as silk and sounded thick as honey to Rishmond. Perhaps the effort of casting two large portals in the last two days had tired him a bit after all. Rishmond glanced sideways at Tybour's face, the ghost of a smile seemed to play around the corners.

"Welcome First Mage, to the Malminar Garrison in The Reaches. We're glad you have arrived safely and we are saddened to hear of your misfortunes on your travels. We are prepared to receive you."

Major Asherton dismounted and stepped forward toward Tybour who had stepped ahead of the rest of his party. They faced each other as if a duel was about to commence, both wary and prepared for anything. Major Asherton extended her left hand palm up, her right hand still upon her sword hilt. A small light flashed into being above her left hand and it grew quickly into a small ball of slowly spinning light. Runes seemed to decorate the surface of the ball of light and small beams of light flashed into being now and then to shoot out from the ball a small distance before disappearing. Rishmond could hear a humm coming from the ball of magic Major Asherton held. A second humm joined the first a moment later as Tybour mirrored the major's action. Rishmond smelled cinnamon and basil and the sweet taste of hard cinnamon candy filled his mouth.

The two balls of magic floated up and toward each other until they touched. They both momentarily turned silver-blue before combining into one single ball of magic that seemed to solidify into a head-sized ball of ice or crystal and then disappeared. 

The tension between the two groups suddenly vanished and an almost audible sigh rose from everyone gathered to watch the meeting.

"Rosa!" Exclaimed Tybour as he crossed the small distance to the garrison commander. They clasped forearms in the manner of old military comrades.

"Tybour." The major's tone seemed much more reserved than Tybour's but still friendly. Tybour's left hand cupped her right shoulder for a moment before trailing down her exposed arm to her elbow, lingering there for but a moment before the two of the stepped away from each other. Tybour smiled his charming half smile, eyes sparkling. Ambrosia Asherton looked into his smiling eyes sternly before softening and smiling back at him with only her eyes.

"Major Asherton, may I introduce Rishmond Bar." Tybour stepped to the side with a small bow and a swing of his right arm toward Rishmond. "One of the most promising young Wizards since... well, since me." He beamed at Rishmond, eyes twinkling with mischief. He winked at Rishmond as he turned his smile back to Ambrosia. "Rishmond, this is the esteemed Major Ambrosia Asherton, commander of the Malminar Garrison here in The Reaches. She is quite likely the most skilled swordsman in Malminar and likely the world. I've never seen her equal."

Rishmond stepped forward and executed a small bow, careful to maintain eye contact with the major. Her eyes were bright green and piercing. He felt as if she was looking into his mind and measuring him. He smiled slightly taking an immediate liking to her despite her apparent aloofness. He reached out with his right hand and grasped her forearm like a fellow soldier. Rishmond watched as her countenance softened and her head tilted a bit to one side as her mouth formed an easy smile.

"Rishmond. Bar? As in Halmond?" Her eyebrows went up in a look of surprise. "I hadn't heard they'd had a second son. You appear to be the same age as Pilip." Without relinquishing her grip on his arm she turned her head toward Tybour.

"Not by birth, no," said Rishmond. "I came to Malminar as an orphan and Halmond and Berti took me in along with my best friend Toby. They're my parents now."

Tybour raised both eyebrows and pressed his lips together in a wry smile while inclining his head a bit toward Rishmond. An unspoken exchange appeared to occur between Tybour and Ambrosia.

"Ah, I see. I would expect nothing less of Halmond and Berti. You're about the age Pilip would be if he were still alive." She continued to hold his arm in her firm grip as she squinted at his face. "A promising Wizard, eh? I will expect great things from you then if Tybour is impressed by your skill. How's your sword-arm? Is Tybour teaching you? Haningway as well?" She pulled Rishmond slightly closer, examining his face. He breathed in her scent—jasmine, mint, and dragon-flower—mingled with the smell of well-oiled leather and the faint scent of horse. All in all a pleasant smell. She pushed him away a bit and spun him around, still holding his arm, examining him from all angles. "Well, you seem to be healthy and fit. I look forward to sparring with you soon. I am always interested in just how well Tybour is teaching others to use a sword." She seemed to be teasing Tybour as much as Rishmond. 

Rishmond glanced to Tybour as the Major released his arm and stepped back slightly. Tybour smiled. "Yes, a sparring session would be a good thing, but I'm afraid it will have to wait until after we conclude our business with the mine."

"Yes, ma'am. Haningway, Tybour, and Ueet are teaching me the sword and other ways to fight. I'm better than most my age, but I'm sure I'm nowhere near as good as you." Rishmond smiled his most winning smile. He wanted to be in this woman's good graces; he had a good feeling about her. 

"Few are as good as me..." Her voice trailed off, the response a statement of fact and not a brag. "Ueet?" She cocked her head at Tybour, her lips pursed tightly. She didn't seem happy to hear that name.

Tybour held up both hands in protest. "Long story, but we need him for the expedition, and will need him more I am sure." He stepped to the side and tilted his head a bit, flashing a disarming smile at Ambrosia. "I am sure you've heard why we are here and what we are doing." He paused a moment, waiting for the little crystal golem to move forward around the soldiers in his way. "This is Torg."

Torg executed a stiff bow. "Hello Wizard Asherton. I am Torg." He paused for a moment assessing the major and those behind her. "I am at your service, Wizard."

Rishmond caught a faint whiff of rain and lilac. He glanced down at Torg to see the lines of magic within him accelerating. The fireworks in his head blossomed and turned gold and green. This was the first time Rishmond recalled Torg using magic instead of just –being– magic. He knew Torg was assessing her magical abilities. He watched Major Asherton's face carefully. She didn't appear to notice the subtle magic measuring her.

Ambrosia stared for a long moment, as did her gathered entourage. "I truly thought the reports had been exaggerated." She stepped forward toward Torg and then squatted down to get a closer look. "Amazing. I've heard of golems but never one made of crystal. Is he truly an emissary from the Gods?"

"I would not call myself an emissary, Wizard. I am but an assistant to the Goddess Denisisie. I have specific tasks to achieve at her behest, and I am given some amount of discretion on how to accomplish those, within the given parameters, of course. I don't speak for the Goddess or any other God, though I can relay messages and have in the past. My current task is to bring Wizard Rishmond to an audience with my mistress, Denisisie, protecting him at all costs until that goal is achieved. I have also been asked by Wizard Rishmond and Wizard Tybour to attempt to assist in restoring the Gods' access to mortals. In order to do that, we must first ascertain where the Gods have gone, if anywhere. That is why we have come here of course, retracing the last known steps of the Goddess Denisisie so that we might discover where they are and why they have been out of contact with mortals for such an extended period of time."

Gasps and excited murmurs came from those gathered behind the major. Ambrosia merely raised one eyebrow and continued to gaze at the small, crystal form before her.  Rosa raised one had and the murmurs behind her ended swiftly.

"You've come to discover where the God's have gone? As Denisisie's assistant should you not know why she came here, what she was doing here, and where she went from here?" Rosa sounded suspicious. "Do you think that all the Gods disappeared once she or they came here?" The Major's voice was steady and she remained calm but something in her stance and attitude appeared to change to Rishmond, her already alert presence heightened somehow without appearing to.

Before Torg could respond Rosa continued, "You think that your being here will bring the Gods back from their hiatus? Do you believe you will find them here in the mines, whiling away the years in some hidden cavern? Or in the wilds of the Glittergreen mountains, ignoring mortals, hiding from us? Why would they come here to abandon us for hundreds of years?" She frowned down at Torg, her attitude appeared to be disbelief about the return of the Gods at all along with a healthy skepticism of the real reason for the golem to lead them here. 

"Rosa," interjected Tybour. "We've already discussed this with Torg and we are quite willing to go over it again along with you and those interested here," he gestured at the group of people behind her, "but perhaps we should go inside and begin to get these fine people settled and then we can discuss at length over some hot food and good wine?"

Rosa turned her head toward Tybour, directing her frown now at him, squinting at him before losing the frown, replacing it with a brilliant smile.

"Yes. Let's. I have a strong feeling that a good wine and perhaps a stronger spirit may be needed to hear this story,' she paused for a moment. "Besides, we have unfinished business that we should discuss at length, you and I." He tone booked no argument and Tybour offered none.

"Come," Rosa said, turning from Tybour and directing her curt invite at Rishmond, Cantor, and Illiar. She held out one dark gloved hand to Rishmond, taking his and pulling him behind her as she headed toward the open gates of the garrison. "Illiar, it is good to see you again. How is your father? Still burly and surly?" Rishmond allowed himself to be pulled, unresisting behind the major. 

"He is as well as can be expect for someone afflicted with his particular condition. And despite being burly, he is far from surly, in fact I find that his constant jesting more often than not drives me to distraction." Illiar's voice was bright and airy, with an iron core. Rishmond was familiar with the tone. This was her putting up with something she would rather not, but determined to save face and be the bigger person.

"And you, young lady, what is your name and how did you come to be here amongst these well-meaning but bumbling men?" Rosa's gaze raked Cantor up and down without slowing her pace toward the garrison walls. "You look to be capable. Are you?" 

Rosa continued to walk at a quick pace, dragging Rishmond by his hand, posing a multitude of questions and both Illiar and Cantor. She appeared to know Illiar to some degree, that surprised Rishmond as much as he knew Illiar and Bantore, he'd never heard of Ambrosia Asherton. The conversation continued unabated around him as the three of them continued through the gate and courtyard and into the central building of the garrison. Rishmond noted the thickness of the walls and the sturdiness of the huge doors. This was a proper fortress. The Major led them through the doors of the main building and down a short hall to a set of grand doors that led into a great hall. Tables set about the huge room in a large square leaving the middle of the room open. A large hole in the floor in the middle of the room led to a set of stairs going down. A man dressed in serving livery climbed up the stairs and into the room carrying a large tray with place settings and cutlery for the table.

Rosa lead them to the head table and sat Rishmond to her right, Cantor to her left and Illiar to the right of Rishmond, still asking questions of Cantor and Illiar and listening to the answers, not addressing Rishmond at all until they were sat and the rest of the two parties began to take seats at the long tables. She finally relinquished Rishmond's hand and turned to him, her green eyes seeming to bore into his head. "Where did you say you were born, Rish? May I call you Rish? I like the sound of it."

"Yes, of course, if you wish." Rishmond stammered. He was flustered by the unexpected request and the question equally. "I don't actually know where I was born," he paused for a moment, unable to break the gaze of intense woman. "Mott I suppose. The nuns at the orphanage found me on their doorstep when I was about two months old they told me." He did his best to not think about the truth, he didn't want to lie to Rosa, but no one could know the truth. He wasn't even sure it was the truth. That's what he kept telling himself.

"Nasty city. I'm glad you're here now instead of there." Rishmond thought she sounded genuinely pleased. He definitely liked this woman.

Diner was brought and served. The conversation turned much lighter and Rosa asked about their travels, keen to learn details from each of their perspectives. She was quick witted and funny and Rishmond grew to like her even more. Quick glances with both Cantor and Illiar told him they too were charmed by her and all three of them relaxed in her company.

Torg hung back near Rishmond, creating a bit of an obstacle for the servants passing behind the chairs. Most of the meal was served from the center of the square formed by the tables, but a number of servants passed behind the chairs as well. Rishmond looked around the large room and finally spotted Tybour and Haningway more than halfway down the left side of the square. They looked to be deep in discussion with an important looking Alteman in colorful clothing.

Food and drink were consumed and the dinerware taken away. Rosa stood and nodded to someone across the room. The peal of a bell rang through the room, cutting off conversations and bring everyone's attention to the head table. 

"It is time to hear the tale, what truly brings the expedition to the Glittergreen mines, and how did this come about." Rosa's voice carried easily through the hall. "Rishmond, I understand that you are something of the cause?"

She looked down at Rishmond, her face stern, expectant.

"Major, it will require more than just Rishmond's telling, but tell we shall." Tybour's smooth interjection rose to match Rosa's voice. Tybour had moved to the middle of the room, in the square formed by the tables. He'd donned the official robe of his office as High Mage, its white and gold a stark contrast to the dingy grey he'd been wearing a short time ago.

Rishmond detected the smell of lilacs and cinnamon and he glanced up at Rosa's standing beside him. The smell was from the subtle spell she was casting, an enhancement spell that would sharpen her senses and ensure she missed nothing and remembered everything in the greatest possible detail, not a spell that took much strength, but definitely one that took finesse to be that subtle. Rishmond's opinion of the major rose once again, where she might lack strength in magic, she may than made up for in control.

Tybour, Rishmond, Cantor, and Torg spent the next few hours recounting the story of how Torg was found, the truth, not the fabrication he and his friends had first recounted to those at Retinor. They explained how the expedition was formed and all the happenings along the way, with the exception of the murder of Teilman, Tybour had been careful to tell Rishmond to leave that out of any recounting for now.

Most questions were held to the end of the telling, after Torg had related his messages about the Goddess Denisisie and his belief the Gods could be found and convinced to return to the mortal realm. Gasps and sympathy were made by those assembled as the tragedies and deaths were revealed. The reaction to the demon spawn monster had nowhere near the impact Rishmond expected. He guessed the garrison encountered demon spawn here in the Reaches more often than he knew.

Tybour watched Rosa's face carefully, aware she suspected there was more to the tale than told this evening. He knew he would have to explain the rest later and he was sure he'd get an earful about his recklessness for much of it. Not to be helped, it was what it was. He'd need her counsel and guidance. Without his knowledge a fond smile played about his lips as he watched her.

Discussions and questions followed, keeping most of the group in the hall until the wee hours of the morning. Rishmond found himself growing tired, tired of answering the same questions framed slightly differently over and over and tired physically.

Groups had begun to form, people gathering in smaller groups to discuss what should be done or aspects of the expedition. Tybour spied Rishmond and Cantor sitting at their places at the table, finally left alone, no one pestering them with questions. 

"Rishmond, Cantor. You should head off to bead. Go get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow and you'll need to be well rested before we head into the mines. We've been granted access to the Holy Temple and it will be a long walk to get there, deep in the mines, and things are... different once you enter the mines. You'll need to be sharp. What you've been told about the voices and the visions likely won't have prepared you for the reality."

As if on queue a strange whisper, like the wind through a broken shutter ran through Rishmond's mind. He glanced up and around as if to locate the source of the sound as it moved around the room, quiet and yet loud enough to be heard over the sound of people talking around him. Tybour also glanced up slightly, apparently hearing the same sound. Their eyes met and Tybour lowered his head a bit as if to tell Rishmond he was not alone. They both glanced toward Cantor. She appeared to be oblivious to any strange whisper but she smiled tiredly at Rishmond. 

:"What?" she asked. She glanced at Tybour, catching him looking at her too. "Did I miss something? Are you two making fun of me?" She gently pushed Rishmond's shoulder.

"No, just wondering if you are as tired as I am," said Rishmond.

"Go," said Tybour. "There's no need for you here now." He gestured and a young tiger beastman moved to them.

"Roqep will show you to your rooms. If you need anything, just ask him or anyone else you see wearing a blue vest."

Rogep stood straight and bowed his head in an informal bow. "Happy to help. Your rooms are not far, and quite near each other. Would you like water, or anything else to be delivered to your rooms before you sleep? Your belongings have already been placed in your rooms." Torg joined them and tthe four of them left the hall and began to walk down a wide stone corridor. "Your beds are ready, but should you need more blankets, or less, or pillows, just ask. We aren't Castle Retinor by any means, but we have our comforts and most guests have little to complain about." His tone was friendly but aloof and he continued to talk as they walked, telling them about the garrison, the building they were in, where things were located around the garrison and town and what there might be for them to do while they were here. He seemed under some impression that Rishmond and Cantor at least, were here on some sort of vacation.

Down a few corridors and after enough turns that Rishmond was fairly sure he would not be able to find his way back to the gathering hall, Rogep finally came to a stop in front of a wooden in a corridor lined with a number of doors. At some point on their walk the bare stone floors had given over to thick patterned carpet beneath their feet. The number of torches lighting the way had dwindled from one every 5 feet or so to 1 every 15 feet or so. The shuttered windows they'd passed in the first hall were no more here in what Rishmond was sure was an inner hall in some sort of maze like collection of halls in the big square of the garrison he'd seen from the outside. He was tired enough not to really care about it, he'd figure it out in the morning.

"This is your room, Mister Rishmond." Rogep gestured to the left the door they'd halted in front of. Rishmond noted the door was painted blue, at least he thought it was blue in the torch light, with some sort of geometric pattern in a contrasting color. "Miss Cantor, you are just across the hall." He gestured to the door directly across from the blue door. That door was painted white, or perhaps a very light blue. The pattern on that door was much less complex than the one on Rishmond's door.

"The light in the morning will be much better, " said Rogep, as if reading Rishmond's mind. "The glass above will let in the light and you'll be able to appreciate the decor and murals." He nodded, indicating the walls up the corridor. Rishmond noted for the first time that the walls on both sides of the hall appeared to be painted. He glanced back the way they'd come, noting the walls there were painted in what appeared to be murals as well. He must be tired indeed to have not noticed that on their walk. The warmth and tingle from holding Cantor's hand may have helped distract him.

"Rogep," said Rishmond, "do you ever hear the voices from the Glittergreen Mountains? Like the one that we heard in the great hall just before we left?"

Rogep gave Rishmond a strange look. "No. The effects of the Mountains don't reach here to the garrison, or even the town. Once you pass through the barrier on the other side of the town you can start to hear them, but we are protected here in the garrison. No one has ever heard the voices or had the visions from the glittergreen here in the garrison, not that I have ever heard of anyway. If you think you heard something, it must have been your imagination. The stories about the Glittergreen Mountains and you being tired likely."

"I didn't hear anything in the hall, Rishmond. Is that what you and Tybour were exchanging looks about?" Cantor placed one hand on Rishmond's shoulder, her face looked concerned, her brows furrowed. 

Rishmond paused for a moment. "No. It must have been my imagination. Tybour was talking about the effects of the Glittergreen Mountains and the mines. His mentioning must have affected me. I must have just been the wind... Or I wouldn't put it past Tybour to have created the whisper just to mess with me! Just like him. He's too much of a prankster sometimes!" Rishmond almost convinced himself.

Cantor's face relaxed and her smile returned. Amazing how Rishmond had never noticed just how pretty she was when she smiled. She's smiled around him a thousand times before but he's never noticed until recently. He smiled back at her and their eyes locked for a long moment.

Rogep cleared his throat loudly, quite near Rishmond's ear, startling him back to reality.

"Right. Thank you, Rogep. Have a good night." Rishmond nodded toward the tiger-man politely in an informal bow.

"Yes. Thank you, Rogep." Cantor smiled at the man and turned to Rishmond. She leaned in close and wrapped her arms around him. He could smell the cleaness of her hair and the smell of the perfume she'd taken to wearing since somewhere near the start of the expedition.

He hugged her back, enjoying the feel of her body close to his. His mind strayed to thoughts of her naked in his arms and the vision shocked him as if she could clearly read what he was thinking. He pulled back suddenly, almost afraid she would know what he'd thought. She continued to hold him close, and much to his surprise she leaned in quickly, her lips meeting his and pressing there for a long few seconds.

She pulled away and stepped back. Rishmond could see the color in her cheeks. She smiled shyly, coyly perhaps? Rishmond had no time to consider the kiss before she turned and stepped quickly to her room door, disappearing inside her room before he could say anything. 

Rishmond found himself standing alone in the twilight hallway. He turned slowly and stepped to his own door, distantly he wondered at the steadiness of his own legs, he was sure they should be like jelly.

It took him a long time to fall asleep once he climbed into the soft, comfortable bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Tomorrow would be a new day, a great day, a day to explore more of what he currently fealt for Cantor. Thoughts of Illiar drifted across his mind and he tried to block them out. She had no interest in him anyway. His dreams paid no heed to what he thought and both Cantor and Illiar featured heavily in dreams that he would try hard to forget in the morning.

Tybour followed Rosa up the dimly lit spiral stairs to the top floor of the garrison. The stairs were tight and narrow and steep, which put Tybour's face at the level of Rosa's shapely rear end just in front of him. Even in the dim light of the reduced torches, the sight was still very impressive and Tybour found himself marveling at the rise and fall of each cheek. The tight leather breeches left little to his imagination, but imagine he did, practically feeling their firm roundness against his palms.

Rosa's sudden stop caused his face to run full on into the object of his reverie. "What the...!" He suddenly realised she'd been saying something, breaking the quitre of the evening. "I'm sorry," he said looking up at her. She was twisted around, looking down at him, her head cocked to one side. 

"Something distracting you, Tybour?" Her voice held more than just a hint of amusement. "You look as if you were hypnotized by some gently swinging object. Anything you would care to mention?"

Tybour smiled his most charming smile up at her, stepping up to the next step, moving in closer to her, his face now at the level of her bosom. "I was just wondering to myself where you had acquired such fine breeches, out here in the sticks, far from civilized society and definitely far, far from the fashion world I know you love so much," he teased. "Did you make those yourself? Or is there some secret clothing shop out here in The Reaches that specializes in clothes with such a... good fit and fine form."

Rosa's smile disappeared and her head tilted down. "Quality clothing is important, even out here in the 'sticks'. I see you have spared no coin on your clothing, First Mage." The hand she placed upon his shoulder was far less friendly than Tybour wanted it to be, much more of a signal for him to remove himself from her personal space. She stepped away from him and continued to the top of the stairs. "Come along, if you insist on entering the mines tomorrow, then you should get your rest." The sternness of her words were undercut by the teasing tone in her voice. She moved quickly down the dim hall to a large wooden door along the left side of the hall, think iron bands wrapped around the blue and white painted door. No other door was visible to the end of the hall. She pulled a large iron key on a chain from around her neck and unlocked the door, pusing it inward and standing a bit to the side so Tybour could enter.

A single, large candle sat burning on a small table in the middle of the room he entered. The candle's light barely illuminated a large bed chamber, chairs and furnishings sat in shadow outside the halo of light cast by the candle. Across the room against the far right wall wooden shutters leaked moon light into the room, doing little to illuminate anything and instead accentuating the shadows of curtains and furnishings.

The door fell shut with a heavy muted thud followed by a sharp metallic click that signaled the locking being turned. Tybour turned toward the sound. Rosa stood before the door, her face oddly lit by the candle, her breastplate reflecting the light in a way that drew his attention to her breasts.

He watched as she unbuckled the breastplate, letting it fall to the floor with a resonant crash that shattered the silence. The sharp clang of metal against stone echoed in the stillness, drawing his breath short. She stepped toward him, her movements deliberate and unhurried. At some point, she must have removed her boots—Tybour hadn’t noticed when—but now her bare feet glided noiselessly across the rugs scattered over the floor. With every step closer, her armor and garments fell away, revealing her vulnerability and strength in equal measure. Tybour felt a warmth unfurl through his body, anchoring him to the spot. He dared not move, unwilling to break the spell cast between them.

Rosa sank onto the bed, her hand reaching for him, pulling Tybour down with her. He paused, hovering over her, his eyes searching hers. Even in the dim light, her gaze was vivid—an intoxicating mix of love and desire that left him breathless. Slowly, he moved to join her, his touch tender and measured, as if afraid to shatter the fragile magic of the moment. She arched toward him, her body responding with instinctive readiness. For a heartbeat, they stilled, caught in the exquisite tension of their union, the world reduced to the space they shared and the rhythm of their shared breath.

Tybour couldn't recall when his clothing had been removed, had he removed it or had she? The question was quickly forgotten as skin touched skin. A slow ember grew quickly to a raging bonfire within him. He moved gently against her. She was ready for him and arched slightly to receive him. They both stopped, pausing, unbreathing, savoring the moment as their bodies joined, gentle and soft. 

But Rosa wanted more. Her fingers dug into his hips, strong and commanding, urging him deeper, demanding all of him. Tybour let out a low groan, his control slipping as he gave in to their hunger. They moved together in a fevered rhythm, their bodies a chaotic symphony of scratching, biting, and desperate passion. The lines between pleasure and pain blurred as they pushed each other further, striving to become more than just two bodies—seeking, in that frenzied moment, to merge into one.

Twice more they shared each other, rolling completely off the bed at one point and continuing on the rugs on the floor, until at last both had enough, for now.

They lay in the dark of the bed, just outside of the pool of pale candle light, spent and happy. Rosa lay with her head on Tybour's chest, her dark curly hair spread across his pale chest, one hand on his ribs. Tybour looked down at her dark skin against his pale flesh. The candle light emphasised the contrast between them.

"Well.. Husband." She spoke the word with emphasis. "I was beginning to wonder if perhaps I was no longer desirable to you. No kiss hello, no flirting banter, no hidden grope of my ass at diner. Have I become unattractive to you after all this time? Or perhaps your desires have been captured by another?" She was teasing him, or at least he was pretty sure she was teasing him.

"My dearest Wife." He used the word as he might a name. "You know there is no other for me than you. Since the day you beat me soundly in a fair fight, I have been wholly and forever yours. No one could ever take your place in my heart." A flash of a memory tripped through Tybour's mind, a vision of Semmolee Turnsol smiling at him from across a campfire. He dismissed the vision as quickly as it had come.

Rosa's fingers tightened against his ribs and she pulled him tighter against her. "As you say Husband. Ours is a love for the ages even to rival that of Ceitus and Romalea. And that seems to be our problem."

"Rosa, not tonight, not now. Let us live tonight for tonight only and leave what must be for tomorrow to tomorrow. There will be time to discuss this tomorrow and beyond. Tonight I wish to just be here with you."

Rosa lifted her head, twisting against Tybour to look him in the face. Even in the dark he could see the spark in her eyes. He was unsure of what she would say next. Rosa was not one to put off till tomorrow what could be done today.

"As you wish, Husband. Tomorrow then." And with that she plopped herself down on the bed and snuggled tight against him, biting him none too gently as she settled down to sleep.

Tybour listened to her breathing grow deeper and more even. It didn't take him long to follow her into slumber.

Morning came early for some of the members of the expedition. Today a few would enter the Glittergreen Mines, on their way to find the sacred place the Gods had visited shortly before the Blessing and their disappearance from the mortal realm.

The entrance to the mountain was wide and tall, the rock around the entrance carved over the centuries into fantastic designs, totems and depiction of creatures meant to protect and gant safety and luck to those who devel beneath the mountain. A wide line of dark rock ran parallel to the entrance. A demarcation inlaid in the gray-white rock of the wide flat space before the mine. Writing graced the border, a warning to all who would enter the mountain. "Beyond here lies madness and death, within magic betrays those who hold it. Your soul is forfeit and your mind is lost beyond this line."

The legend of the Glittergreen Mines and indeed the mountains themselves lived in those words. Any mortal with a spark of magic went mad if they spent more than a few days in the mountains. The mines were worse. Learned Wizards were sure the cause was the intense concentration of magic itself in the glittergreen crystals found nowhere but these mountains. The stronger a person's magic, the more intense the effects and the more likely time spent here would result in madness. People without Wizard level talent, with only a spark strong enough to use lotret could often last for 10 or 15 days, but a strong Wizard would begin to feel the effects in the first couple of days and be lost to madness by the fifth day. No Wizard once driven mad by the voices and visions of the Glittergreen had ever recovered, and no one had ever found a way to protect against the effects.

They said the effects did not extend beyond the marked border, but already Rishmond heard the whispers, distant and infrequent, but there. Last night he'd heard them and he was certain now that what he'd heard had definitely been the whispers of the glittergreen and not just his being tired. He'd heard them more than once since waking this morning and the ghostly flickers that haunted the peripherals of his vision were too consistent to be his imagination. He been pretty sure Tybour was experiencing the same thing and had asked when they'd met up this morning. Tybour had confirmed and told Rishmond they would have to get to their destination deep in the mine quickly and head back to the surface and away from the mines just as quickly.

Three days, Tybour had said, any longer would be too dangerous. The trip to and from the shrine would be a day in each direction. That gave them a day to spend at the shrine to determine what the Goddess Denisisie had done there. 

The area in front of the large entrance was a large flat expanse of gray-white stone about 60 feet deep and 40 feet wide. Altemen moved equipment across the expanse or tended to the carts on tracks that came up out of the mine, pulled by stocky, hairless kathtwips whose great strength and compact size made them ideal for work inside the mines. 

Rishmond, Tybour, Bantor, Haningway, Iliar and Cantor walked together a bit away from the few others from the expedition who were going down into the mines. Lieutenant Norft, VanLief Aericksen, Ueet and Gregor Tranto rounded out the group from the expedition. Rosa and three important looking Altemen from the village accompanied the group as an official escort. The group was lead into the entrance of the mine by a small contingent of Altemen miners.

Tybour looked over at Rishmond, "The whispers seem stronger this morning. Have you been hearing them as well all morning?  LIke they know we are coming? Anticipating? Like they are excited at the prospect of you and I joining them in the deep?" Tybour face broke into a strained grin. The fact that the whispers and ghost-like visions unnerved Tybour somehow gave Rishmond comfort. If it scared Tybour, then the fact it scared him made Rishmond a bit less afraid.

The group crossed the warning line on the ground. Tybour watched Rishmond tense as they did. "It won't get immediately worse. A bit maybe, but it won't get to its worst until we hit the bottom of the elevator shaft. Then it will get bad and you will have to fight it. Just remember that its just echoes of magic and nothing real. Talking to someone helps as does listening to someone. Remember to not use magic, at all. Even a small bit of magic use will be unpredictable once we are inside the mine." Tybour placed a comforting hand upon Rishmond's shoulder. "You can do this." His smile became more natural and relaxed. Rishmond smiled back.

Cantor and Illiar moved to his sides as Tybour moved away from Rishmond, one on each side of him. They both took one of his hands and gripped it tight. "Is this what you heard last night? These incoherent whispers? Like the dead calling out warnings you can't understand?" Illiar asked, pressing herself against Rishmond. Cantor too gripped his hand tight and pressed herself against Rishmond's side.

"I don't like this. Too weird," Cantor said. 

Neither looked at Rishmond, but instead glanced around as if trying to locate the source of the sounds they now heard in their head.

Torg marched just ahead of Rishmond, the lights in his head danced and sparked. Rishmond wondered for just a moment how the use of magic applied to him once inside the mines. After all, his entire being was magic use. Would he need to shut down? Would his magic malfunction once the entered the mines? No one else seemed to be worried about it. Surely Tybour at least had considered it and apparently dismissed it or knew somehow that it would not be an issue.

"It's going to be fine. Its just noise, echoes of magic Tybour says." Rishmond put as much bravery and comfort in his voice as he could. "Talking to each other and listening helps he says. He should know. He tells me he's been down in the mines more than 10 times now." He found what Tybour said to be true as his anxiety seemed to ebb as he spoke. 

The group came to a stop just inside the mine entrance. A gray haired Alteman perched on a raised stone platform just ahead of them. The group gathered close around him. 

"Welcome to the Glittergreen mines. Magic is concentrated here and it should not be used once you are inside. Please be very sure you do not use even a small amount of magic." The old Alteman's voice was strong but rough. Rishmond wondered just how old he was. "We will be passing out a bit of something for you to chew as we journey to the Shrine. It will help with the echoes and visions. It may also cause you some bit of euphoria. It will also help you resist using magic by making it harder for you to do so. It will not make it impossible, but we hope to avoid any issues this way."

Rishmond, Cantor, and Illiar exchanged surprised glances. They's not been told about this before. All three looked as one to Rosa and Tybour who now stood together near the platform, facing them. Both nodded to them indicating it was ok and something they had known about.

The old Alteman on the platform spoke again, "Each of you has sworn an oath to not speak of what happens here or what you see here. That includes this part. Do not tell others about this."

A young Alteman woman slithered up to Rishmond and the two women standing with him. She handed them each a small package. Inside was 5 slim sticks of greenish-white. "Chew one each day you are in the mine. Continue to chew it, even if it looses its flavor. You can discard a chewed stick when you sleep. Any you do not chew will be returned to us when you return to the service here. Wrap the chewed bit in the old wrapper when you are done with it and then give it to one of the escort each evening."

They each took their packages and removed one stick from its wrapping. The substance was stiff at first, but as they chewed it became soft and pliable. The flavor was sweet and minty with a touch of medicinal flavor, like licorice. All in all, thought Rishmond, not unpleasant.

The group began to move again, deeper into the mine. The daylight outside the entrance still flooded much of the area they walked through. The gentle slope leading every downward, and the passage narrowed to a meer 15 feet across and less than 10 feet high. The passage began a slow turn left until the bright entrance was hidden and darkness settled in. Lit torches lined the walls, no magic lights here in the mine. The slope of the floor grew steeper until the walk downward became an effort.

The passage continued at a gentle turn to the left and the down-slope remained just enough to be a challenge and not so much as to be dangerous. They walked for two hours before stopping for water and rest. A large open space had been carved out of the rock and several benches stood along the curved wall. Altemen miners continued past on their way up and down the passage, keeping to the right so traffic flowed easily. Their muscular snake lower half seemed to make their travel on the slope in both directions almost effortless.

Rishmond's pack was fairly light, they weren't going to need much while here, the mine administrators would provide food and water, but Rishmond had packed a couple of changes of clothes and some extra rations, he'd learned from both Tybour and Halmond that luck favored the prepared. He's also gotten one of those belts he'd seen Haningway wear, it had four pouches that each fit a light metal canteen full of fresh clean water. Again, no reason to not be prepared. It added a bit to the weight he carried, but not so much that it would impede his walking.

He's noticed Illiar and Cantor both also appeared to be overly prepared, they carried extra water and he noticed that their of their packs seemed fuller than what had been recommended as they'd prepared for this trip down into the Glittergreen mines.

So far, the mines were not what Rishmond had expected. He's always imagined tunnels through the rock where bright green, glowing crystals of glittergreen were exposed in large chunks and veins of the crystal ran for yard after yard and lit he mines like they were under a green sun. So far he'd seen nothing he recognized as glittergreen crystal and the only light was the burning torches set in iron sconces on the walls. Hallways more than tunnels branched off the main passage they walked down. Smooth walls, floor and ceilings, more like the halls of the garrison they'd stayed in last night than what he's imagined a mine would be like. The temperature here below the ground was also not what he'd expected, it was warm bordering on hot and the whole team except Ueet and Bantor were sweating and had stripped off their coats, even Tybour had put away his white and gold cloak. Rishmond found his eyes straying to the bare midriffs of both Cantor and Illiar. None of the Altemen seemed to be affected at all by the heat.

The whispers and visions had also not gotten any worse, in fact, they were barely even a thing anymore. He'd commented on this to Illiar and Cantor while they walked and they had agreed. They talked about how perhaps they'd built it up in their mind as more than what it would be. Cantor mentioned that perhaps what they'd been given to chew worked way better than they knew. Rishmond wanted to ask Tybour about it, but he was deep in conversation with Haningway, Rosa and the elderly Alteman, Elder Geriswald, who'd was escorting them to the Shrine. They seemed quite deep in important business so Rishmond decided it was best to wait until later to talk to Tybour.

After a bit more than six hours of constant downhill walking at a brisk pace, the passageway opened out into a large cavern. The ceiling was suddenly lost in darkness above them despite the numerous torches spread about the large cavern. Large iron brasiers dotted the floor perched on iron stands, their fires causing interesting pools of light and dark throughout. The temperature dropped suddenly several degrees, not cold but no longer warm enough to make Rishmond sweat by just being alive. Over a dozen passages opened off this central cavern, Altemen and kathwips entered and exited the cavern through these other openings, staying along the walls and not crossing into the wide open middle of the cavern.

The middle of the cavern, across the smooth stone floor, stood a large metal structure, more a shed than a building really. It had walls, but the walls didn't quite reach the floor. It was squat and square and four very thick chains at each corner extended upward from it to disappear into the darkness above. Rishmond had never seen chain links of this massive size. Each was the size of the small cart Halmond had at home. A half dozen smaller chains ran alongside the much bigger ones.

The elevator.

It far exceeded the description Tybour had given them a few days ago. This was how they would make it to the lower levels of the mines without spending several days walking down endless twisting tunnels or climbing down the ladders Tybour and Ueet had told them about. Tybour had told them the the elevator rode up and down a shaft cut through the stone of the mountain hundreds of feet straight down. They would ride on the platform down to the lowest level of the mines, three-hundred feet down, and then hopefully back up again when they were done. Tybour had great confidence in the thing and Rishmond couldn't wait to see how it worked, and see what sights there were to be seen at the bottom.

Rishmond's awe at the structure was cut short with the sudden return of the whispering voices and the flickering shadows of something not quite seen out of the corner of his eyes. The hallucinations were back with a vengeance. The whispering grew quickly in volume, blocking out all of the sounds around him. His mind registered Cantor and Illiar in front of him, their faces full of worry. Both were speaking to him he thought, but he could not hear them. Torg stood there between them, his head cocked slightly to one side, one stubby arm stretched out to Rishmond. Odd that Torg's face was on a level with his own. Odd that both Illiar and Cantor seemed to be bent down to speak to him.

The whispers he'd heard so far had been sounds without meaning, words he couldn't quite make out, but now it was different, now the whispers spoke to him and as the words registered a vision also coalesced in front of him, blocking his view of Torg, Cantor and Illiar. A beautiful, austere face with brilliant ice-blue eyes and stern expression, a woman's face he recognised from the portrait hung in the sanctuary of the Goddess Denisisie. It was her voice that spoke to him now, firm, commanding, compelling. "Come young Wizard Rishmond. Come to the Glittergreen Shrine and speak with me. The Gods have chosen you for a task. Come answer our summons. Torg will guide you and protect you. The Gods need you and we would impart this geas upon you. Come and accept it and save mortals, or decline and doom them."

His vision cleared and Rishmond found himself staring at Torg's stubby feet just in front of him. He realised he was on his knees and several of his friends were helping him stand, pulling him to his feet. Illiar, Cantor, and Tybour all crowded around him, Tybour stood awkwardly, reaching over Torg to support Rishmond under both arms with both of his hands.The sounds around him returned with a rush. He heard the worry in his friend's voices asking him if he was ok.

"I.. I'm fine. I.. I just.. A voice. Denisisie... It just overwhelmed me... I'm fine. Please." His legs finally seemed to be able to support him without help. He gripped Tybour's arm for a moment, looking him in the eyes and smiling a reasuring smile. "Really. Thank you. I'm ok now."

He placed one hand on Illiar's shoulder and the other on Cantor's. Looking into their eyes he tried to project confidence and reassurance. "Really. I am fine now. I saw the Goddess Denisisie and she spoke to me." He looked down at Torg, whose square crystal face looked up at him impassively. Rishmond could see the sparks and streaks of light in his little crystal brain bloom and fade.

Rishmond looked into the stone face and asked, "Was that really her? Did you see it too, Torg?'

"I am not sure exactly what you saw, Wizard Rishmond, but I did see my Goddess' aspect and I heard what was spoken to you. I do not believe it was the Goddess directly speaking to you, but more likely a recording set to play when you came into this place. That makes the message no less true or serious. We must press on to the Shrine so you may speak with the Goddess and accept your geas. I will protect and guide you to the best of my ability. I do believe what I saw and heard was very similar to what you experienced."

 "Are you sure you're ok, Rishmond?" Illiar's voice was quiet but strong, her face very near to Rishmond's. "Don't try and be a hero. Perhaps you should sit for a few minutes so I can check you over." Her eyes seemed to search Rishmond and he felt like she very well may be able to see inside him and find any place he may be injured. 

"Rishmond, yes, please let Illiar check you for any ill effects," Cantor's voice was louder and Rishmond suddenly noticed that both she and Illiar had inserted themselves between him and all the rest of the group standing about. They were both very close. He could feel the warmth of their bodies and smell the different perfume each of them wore. He became acutely aware of the way their bodies were pressed against his. Embarrassed by the thoughts brought to his mind he looked up to see Tybour grinning like an idiot at him, Rosa smiling oddly and shaking her head slowly. 

He pulled his arms free of the two women and placed them gently around their shoulders, stepping forward between them and turning them to face the same way as him. His embarrassment ebbed now that he was not in such intimate contact with them. He avoided eye contact with Tybour and Rosa. He could feel the heat in his face and he was certain he was turning red. Maybe they would think it was due to his recent mental encounter with an actual God. He felt his knee bump something hard and he looked down to find Torg attempting to backpedal out of his way as he stepped forward, bring Illiar and Cantor along with him.

"Come, we have places to be and things to do. I can tell you all about what happened on the way. I can assure you I am fine. No harm done." Rishmond proceeded to the low structure near the middle of the open cavern.

As they walked toward the elevator the chains began to move, sliding upward into the ceiling, pulling something massive up the open shaft in the floor. The sound of the huge chains moving began to echo throughout the chamber, drowning out other sounds for several minutes. Rishmond watched in awe as the elevator platform rose into place and the large steel gates were swung open by a small number of Altemen dressed in bright orange livery.

The group from the expedition gathered behind the Elder Geriswald, waiting not so patiently to board this ancient, God crafted wonder. At least Rishmond felt an excitement at the adventure. Perhaps not everyone was as thrilled to make this trip deep beneath the ground. Ueet in particular seemed ill at ease. Rishmond caught his eye and smiled his most reassuring smile. This was God built, it couldn't be any safer. Ueet's eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. He shook his head slightly at Rishmond before turning away. 

An Altemen dressed in tan and gold and wearing an odd flat hat approached Elder Geriswald. "Your Grace. We are honored to take you to the Shrine once more. Everything is prepared as you asked. Shall we board? We can begin the descent at your pleasure."

"Thank you, Mine Supervisor Haltoo. Your work is appreciated as always."

The Altemen were more often than not quite formal in their speech, Rishmond thought. Especially when there was a difference in apparent rank between speakers. It reminded him a bit of the deference soldiers often showed between ranks, but somehow stuffier, like an army of librarians. He smiled to himself at the image of hundreds of Altmen marching to battle wielding large tomes they opened and read at each other in loud voices until their opponents gave up and collapsed with hoarse voices and tired tongues.

The image didn't last long, interrupted by Torg's pushing past his leg with uncharacteristic force, pushing Rishmond slightly aside and walking quickly across the cavern to the elevator's entrance.

Conversations stopped as the little crystal golem made a beeline for the elevator, his odd rolling gate in as much of a hurry as anyone had ever seen. He firmly but gently pushed aside several Altemen to make his way on to the elevator. Rishmond followed quickly as did Tybour. Others followed them just as quickly. Elder Geriswald and Supervisor Haltoo were left standing with a few Altemen guards looking after the group, surprised looks upon their faces.

Torg walked directly on to the elevator without hesitation and up to the single Altemen standing at the back  in one corner in front of a dark colored stand that rose from the floor to a height of about five feet. On the top of the stand, nestled firmly in a small platform that fit is snugly was one of the ancient tablets of the Gods. The stand appeared to be made of a single seamless piece of black substance, a material Rishmond had encountered only once before in the throne room of the Retinor castle. Hard as wood but more flexible and not as cold to the touch. The platform the tablet sat in was a seamless part of the stand and tilted forward at an angle that made access to the tablet's face easy for someone standing before it.

Rishmond had never seen a working God tablet in his life, but this one was glowing with a soft blue-white light, not as bright as a magic light but enough to be seen even in the pervasive torch light.

The Altemen had place himself between Torg and the tablet stand, arms up and palms out keeping Torg back. His face was set in a firm scowl. He had no idea what this creature was, but he was determined to keep it from the precious artifact he was apparently tasked to guard.

"Torg! Wait!" Rishmond rushed to the golem, placing a hand on one hard, square shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Tybour rushed up a heartbeat behind Rishmond, moving to the other side of Torg and holding one hand up toward the guard as if to keep him from physically assaulting the golem.

Torg had paused, head tilted a bit to the left, face tilted up looking at the tablet on the stand. He seemed to be waiting, not pushing the guard aside but also not moving away. "Wizard Rishmond, Wizard Tybour," Torg spoke without turning his eyes from the tablet even with the guard in the way. "The Goddess Denisisie gave me a standing order and I must obey. I am tasked with repairing certain items that may have ceased to function as I find them. This has mostly been in my service as the keeper of the Goddesses Sanctuary, but I find this task to be in effect here as well. I was able to diagnose the tablet and its systems as it came close enough for me to communicate with it. The control and its systems are malfunctioning and must be repaired as per my instructions. I do not mean to be intrusive and I do not want to have to force my way to access, but I must do as my mistress commands."

"What do you mean, repair?" Tybour asked, gesturing for the guard to move a bit to the side so he could look at the tablet. "Move man, we aren't here to break or steal this artifact. We just want to see it."

The Altemen stepped slightly aside but stayed close to the tablet, still between them and it. "First Mage, you are welcome to look, of course, but what is that and what does it want with the tablet." The guard pointed at Torg and scowled down at him. "And no one is permitted to touch the artifacts without express permission from the Elder Counsel. And those who are permitted must complete extensive training first. I am not permitted to let even you, First Mage, touch this device."

A number of other armed Altemen guards arrived and arranged themselves in a small arc behind the first guard and the stand, weapons held ready but not immediately threatening.

Torg turned to Rishmond, "I'm sorry Wizard Rishmond, I don't mean to cause a fuss and I am no threat to the tablet or the Altemen." He said miners as if it were a title. "I cannot interfere with the task set before them by the Gods any more than I can ignore my onus to repair devices still needed for the world to carry on with the work the Gods set."

"Perhaps," interjected Tybour, "we should consult Elder Geriswald. Can you wait to ask the Manager for permission to touch the tablet, Torg?" He didn't wait for the answer, instead turned and sought out the old Altemen among the group now arriving at the entrance to the elevator. 

Most of the crowd stopped short of boarding the elevator, only Elder Geriswald, Rosa, Illiar and Cantor stepped onto the metal floor of the lift and moved toward the group in the corner around the contested device. Tybour caught Haningway's eye momentarily before jutting his chin toward the opposite corner of the lift.

"Yes, of course Wizard Tybour, I can wait." Torg turned back toward the tablet and stand, motionless and quiet.

"What seems to be the comotion?" Elder Geriswald made his way to the original guard who moved out of the way to the side of the stand. The other guards also shifted to make room and give the Elder space.

The guard gave a bow toward Elder Geriswald. "That creature appeared to want to touch the artifact so I stopped him, in accordance with the law and my instructions, sir." He kept his head slightly down and his short spear held tight to his side, its metallic tip resting on the metal floor. "I informed First Mage Insuritor that our law does not allow anyone to touch the artifact without proper permission and training."

"Good. Thank you Gerald. You have performed your duty well. Now, let's find out what's going on." Elder Geriswald looked down at Torg, lowering his body a bit and leaning forward slightly. He glanced up at Tybour and Rishmond when the little golem did nothing.

"Torgm," said Rishmond. "Tell Elder Geriswald what you told us."

Torg stirred and turned his head. "I am charged by the Goddess Denisisie to fix devices gifted by the Gods that are needed by mortals to continue the work set for them by the Gods. I am also charged with repairing devices needed to maintain Godly works, stations, sanctuaries, and retreats. To the best of my ability, of course. There are somethings I may not be able to fix or repair."

"And you can fix this device?" The old Altemen reached one hand out to touch the corner of the tablet nestled in the stand's platform.

"Yes, sir," Torg replied.

"Since the Blessing the device and other things here in the mine have stopped working, but we have compensated and we continue to mine the glittergreen and use most of the tools left to us." Elder Geriswald moved closer to Torg and waved the guards back. "What if you try to fix this and cause it to lose even more of its function than has already been lost in the last three hundred years?"

"Repair and maintenance is one of my primary functions. It is what I did for the Goddess before she left me and it is the task I was doing when I was found by Wizard Rishmond and his friends. I can assure you I can accomplish the task here quickly and without error. I have already diagnosed the issue, but I cannot fix it remotely, I will need to touch the device to restore its primary function and that of the mine. Your manual use of this elevator and the continued functioning of the mine in its current condition is certainly commendable and quite improbable, and yet it is being done. I am sure the Goddess would be quite proud of you all. If you will not allow me to repair the device, then I will have no choice but to obey, but I assure you it would be advantageous to you and the mine if you were to allow me to perform my task."

Torg stood motionless, looking up at the elder, apparently resigned to not being able to complete this task.

"Geriswald." Tybour spoke up. "This creature is undeniably the creation of a God, I don't think any of us would refute that. That being the case, surely we can't believe he would have any ill will toward the mine or the devices left behind by the Gods. I cannot believe Torg would lie to us or attempt to deceive us." Tybour paused for a moment, glancing around at those gathered to watch. "I say we trust him and allow him to attempt his fix."

Elder Geriswald held Tybour's gaze for several long moments before turning and gesturing to Supervisor Hatoo. The two of them bent their heads to whisper to each other.

When the two of them finally separated, Elder Geriswald raised one eyebrow as he looked seriously down at Torg. Rishmond remained with one hand on one of Torg's cold, hard shoulders.

"Very well. We wish to assure ourselves that you do indeed know what you are doing, Torg. If you can answer this question, we will allow you to touch the artifact and attempt your fix. If you answer incorrectly, you will cease any attempt to touch the artifact and will not interfere with anything you find in the mines. Do you agree to those terms?"

"I will," replied Torg, his voice dispassionate as usual.

The old Altemen looked to Rishmond. "Will you be responsible for ensuring he keeps to his agreement?"

Rishmond was slightly taken aback by the question. Could he be responsible? Torg was supposed to be his guide and protector, but it was unclear if he could be commanded to do anything. Torg had never given Rishmond any reason to doubt him. Surely he would keep his word.

"Yes, sir. Of course."

"Very good. Torg, what was the primary purpose of this tablet and when did it lose the ability to perform that function?"

Rishmond's eyebrows drew together as he considered the question. How could Torg answer that? As far as he know, Torg had never been to the mines, and he had said himself that he'd been isolated and alone in Denisisie's sanctuary since before the Blessing. There was no way he could know the answers to the question.

"That's not...," Rishmond began, intending to protest the question.

Torg interrupted him in his clear, odd voice. "Primary function of this device is to control the mine's functions, distribution of power to its mechanical systems, and communication between sections of the mine. Secondary functions include recording mine operational status, gathering system reports, and operation of the main elevator." Torg's head tilted from the left to the right, as if he was listening to a quiet whisper. "Primary operational function ceased approximately three-hundred thirty-one turns, 7 months, two days, 4 hours and 12 seconds ago, following a strong earthquake that damaged the primary power generation plant." Torg tilted he head back to center and then looked up into the face of Elder Geriswald. "The tablet has operated on secondary power since that time and it is apparent that you have been correctly replacing the glittergreen crystal for many turns to maintain the secondary systems."

Surprise was clearly evident on the Supervisor's face and he sputtered a bit before he was hushed by Geriswald who appeared to have expected a correct answer. "You are correct, Torg. We will allow you access and we will assist however we can."

Rishmond watched as the colors within Torg changed, a concentration of sparks and colors that were in the very front of what Rishmond now thought of as his brain went from random to orderly lines lighting up one after another. The activity through out his crystalline body seemed to suddenly organize, flowing together in soothing lines and groups. 

With a small click and a sound like small rocks being rubbed together Torg began to grow. His legs seemed to lengthen out of his body, growing longer, raising the little golems body higher until his head was about a foot above the tablet on the top of the stand. Everyone stared in amazement at the now five and a half foot tall golem.

Rishmond watched as Torg reached out to the tablet and touched the glowing surface. He touched several of the symbols on its surface in succession. For a moment nothing happened, and then there was a distant noise, something large moved in the dark beyond the cavern they were in.

Torg turned his head until he could look almost right behind himself. "Elder, please have all of the personnel in the gear room leave that room. It will not be safe in there once the repairs are done, just as the ancient texts say."

His head turned back to the tablet as the Elder gestured to the guards. One of the guards slithered away impossibly quick, heading out of sight to accomplish Torg's request.

Torg paused for several long minutes. He appeared to be listening for something. A sudden bell sound emanated from the device before the golem. Torg touched a symbol on the surface of the glowing tablet and suddenly a number of bumps on the ceiling that Rishmond hadn't even noticed before glowed to life, emitting a bright yellow-white light.

Everyone in the elevator, indeed, everyone in the cavern blinked at the sudden light that flooded out of hundreds of similar bumps spread around the walls and supports in the cavern.

As if summoned by the sudden light, the whispers returned with a flood, as if they had been held back, building until all released at once. Rishmond's mind was assaulted with urgent whispers, unintelligible again, crowding into his mind. The sudden light was filled with visions of grey, incorporeal forms that floated around the cavern trailing grey clouds in their wake.

Rishmond winced and doubled over as his head began to ache again with the pressure of the visions and sounds. The whispers were more urgent now than ever, seeming to urge him on, telling him to hurry, time was running out.

Tybour winced with the return of the visions and whispers too. Others felt it and reacted to varying degrees. Only Torg and the Altemen were unaffected. 

Tybour recovered first and reached out to Rishmond, pulling him close and telling him to hang on. He quickly unwrapped a fresh piece of the gum they'd chewed since entering the mines and almost forced it into Rishmond's mouth. "Chew. It will help." He let go of Rishmond long enough to open another piece and shove it into his own mouth. 

Rishmond opened his eyes to see Tybour's face just inches from him. Tybour had turned him so they were face to face. "No magic. Just chew and breathe. Focus on me. We can do this." 

Rishmond realised he was reaching out for magic, anything to ease the pain in his head and the anxiety generated from the voices. He couldn't understand the words but he knew they were urging him on, urging him to hurry. He locked eyes with Tybour and saw himself reflected there. The voices quieted a bit and the visions around him faded to the background. It took a good three or four minutes before both Tybour and Rishmond were able to recover fully.

"Torg!" Tybour and Rishmond said at the same time. 

"The voices are back and their urging us to hurry. Can we go now that you've fixed the elevator?" Rishmond continued.

"We do need to hurry, Torg," added Tybour.

"Yes, Wizard Rishmond, nearly. I must complete one task manually before we can go."

Torg turned from the tablet and, with a soft grinding sound, returned to his normal height.

"I must enter the maintenance tunnel just below this level to reset the braking chains. That cannot be done from here." The golem walked past Rishmond and Tybour and headed off the elevator, turning to head toward the far side of the cavern where the cliff dropped away to the darkness below.