The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 37: Arrival

“Oh great, Stonesinger, why have you gone silent? Why have you forsaken us? Oh mighty God of my foremothers, where is your voice, where is your heart? Oh, eldest patron, what have we done to deserve this cruelty? Have we not followed the rites and rules of our ancestors? Have we not delved deep and built high as commanded? Stonesinger! Answer us! Your chosen beg for your guidance!.”- The final prayer of Ynisar Hold’s chanthall.

It stormed for the first few days after leaving Fort Carnum. Heavy rain and rolling thunder covered the Alidonian foothills, making travel a damp, slow affair for Cole, Natalie, and the rest. Thankfully, their route kept them on an imperial road and away from the inevitable mud such soggy spring weather would spawn. When the weather finally shifted, the group had made good ground, just not as much as they’d hoped.

But even with the worst of the storm gone, the weather still wasn’t truly cooperating. The cool morning was trapped in a hazy drizzle. Still, Cuff and Clout continued their plodding march through the damp murk, carrying the stone keepers toward their destination. Blurring the line between rain and fog, the odd precipitation rolled off the mountains and buried the forest in a blanket of soggy air. Staring out from the top of the wagon, Natalie was oddly home-sick, seeing the unpleasant weather. Glockmire used to suffer terrible fog this time of year. The thick mist frightened Natalie as a child, its swirling banks hiding all manner of unseen terror. As a teenager, the fog instead annoyed her by making morning chores a damp, miserable experience. Now an adult and immortal, Natalie felt melancholic at the sight.

Perched on one of the wooden ribs of the wagon, Natalie sat wrapped in a wool cloak to keep the dampness at bay. Painful experiences from the previous winter taught Natalie her biggest issue in poor weather was moisture, not cold. Aside from the obvious discomfort of being perpetually wet, the warmer weather offered other complications to being undead. Morri once spoke of a disgusting encounter involving a feral vampire with actual fungus growing on it. While Natalie was reasonably certain it must have taken years, if not decades, of animalistic unliving for that to happen, she wasn’t taking any chances. So she sat bundled up, peering out at the foggy forest like some primordial hermit overseeing their domain.

Alia was sleeping off her part of the previous night shift, requiring Natalie to act as the main eyes and ears of the group. By some unspoken agreement, the rest of the group had started taking turns on night watch, unwilling to leave Natalie alone. While ostensibly for her protection, Natalie knew it was equally for everyone else’s. Isabelle’s claims about the Rabisu being sealed were heartening but a poor reassurance in the face of Natalie becoming possessed and attacking everyone while they slept. The subtle but present distrust arising from the brig incident stung Natalie all the more because she couldn’t disagree with her friend's caution.

Wrapping her cloak tighter, Natalie let out a tired sigh. It was depressing how much had changed and how the end results were damn near identical to where she started. Everyone was treating her like a mountain ready to avalanche, understandably so, but still. Then, there was the looming specter of possession or degeneration hanging above Natalie. All her angst about becoming a vampire and dealing with Isabelle had returned with reinforcements.

A small smile forced itself onto Natalie’s face upon thinking of Isabelle. Matters had worked out far better than she’d dared hope in that regard. The nervous energy of infatuation and romance danced through Natalie, providing a much-needed counterbalance to her brooding. That, combined with what she and Cole got up to in the forest before the storm, was enough to keep the darkness at bay. To be loved, after all, is the most wonderful thing.

Forcing herself back into the moment, Natalie refocused on her surroundings. While miring in the good was better than drowning in the bad, neither was beneficial to guard duty. Letting a little blood enhance her senses, Natalie checked for abnormalities in the surrounding forest. Even with her unnatural senses, penetrating the thick, muffling fog wasn’t easy. It snaked through the surrounding pines like the frozen breath of some slumbering giant, or more accurately, considering their destination, Jotunn.

Staring up above the treeline, Natalie squinted, catching hints of looming shadows within the fog. The mountains were close, and with them, Turul’s Tomb. Of all the topics Natalie took the time to learn about in the Temple archive, Jotunn and their spawn hadn’t been one of them. They didn’t seem like major problems for her in the near future, especially compared to the myriad breeds of Undead. So, of course, here she was, heading into the (abandoned) lair of one.

According to Kit, the Jotunn in question was long dead and not even buried in its supposed tomb. As rivals of the Sidhe, the Jotunn suffered worse than humankind during the Fae invasion. Not many of the ancient shapeshifters survived that era, and Turul hadn’t been one of them. Still, much of his former domain, the Alidonian Mountains, held remnants of their former master, including the great cavern cutting a path beneath the mountain’s northern half, supposedly where Turul made his final stand. Now, those tunnels held an insular Dwarven clan who might be willing to let them pass, hopefully.

Wondering when the morning sun would finally burn through the fog, Natalie shut her eyes and focused on listening. Past the clop of hooves and creak of the wagon, there were the faintest signs of life. Bold squirrels venturing down from winter-worn nests. A few birds who made good time on spring migration fluttered between bud-laden branches. Somewhere at the edge of even Natalie’s senses, a deer or boar pawed at the forest floor. These were encouraging signs; if the woods' natives weren’t overly cautious, then why should Natalie be?

Opening her eyes and letting out an annoyed breath, Natalie wished she could just use the Lupus pack for this task. But Cole insisted they keep any signs of their ‘untoward natures’ hidden. All it would take was some Dwarven ranger or woodsmen spotting the spectral wolves, and negotiating with Clan Maugi would become much more difficult.

The sound of boots on stone caught Natalie’s attention, and she peered out ahead of the wagon, looking for the source of the noise. After a few seconds of listening, Natalie smiled. She knew those boots and footfalls, even distorted by the fog. Cole soon materialized out of the mist, jogging down the road toward the wagon. His pace and bearing told Natalie there wasn’t an emergency, just that he’d returned from scouting.

Finally, freeing herself from the cocoon of wool she’d been inhabiting, Natalie slid down the wagon’s side. Even without body heat, she’d been comfortable, and now returning to the surrounding dampness wasn’t fun, but Cole’s presence made it worth it. Trotting forward, Natalie caught Kit and Mina’s attention. The Magi knew the route they were supposed to take but couldn’t be trusted to steer the horses by himself. Kit found the task boring and tended to seek entertainment in ways inclemental to keeping the wagon on the road.

“Hey, Cole’s back. I think he found something.” Natalie said, noting the look of genuine relief cross Mina’s face. They’d encountered a fork not included in Kit’s directions the previous night, and there was some worry the group had taken the wrong route. But, if they were on the right path, signs of their destination wouldn’t be hard to find. So Cole ranged ahead, trying to find a road marker or similar before the group went too far down the wrong path.

Mist clung to Cole’s cloaked form, evoking the many times Natalie witnessed him unleash his power. Reaching them, he gave the horses a wide birth and said. “We are heading in the right direction.”

Mina eyed the fog warily. “Are you certain? It could be just another unmarked fork?”

Cole’s scarred face twisted in a slight smile. “Oh, I’m certain. The Dwarves don’t ever hesitate to announce their presence. Come on, it should be just two or three kilometers up the road.”

Sure enough, what Cole found became obvious when the wagon creaked its way forward. Jutting off the imperial road was a younger, less intricate track. Marking this new path was a large standing stone. Easily three meters tall, the pillar of carved rock was intricately decorated. The stone’s peak was carved into a falcon’s likeness, its wings splayed but downcast, giving the impression the bird was squatting over a nest. Beneath it were bands of pictograms, conveying layers of information in dwerick. Interrupting the sigils were scenes of dwarvish life and reliefs of heavy-browed faces.

Kit hopped down from the wagon then and examined the standing stone. “Yep, we are in the right place. This proclaims the lands beyond the stone belonging to Clan Maugi.”

Staring at the indecipherable runes, Natalie asked. “An awful lot of writing just to say that.”

An amused snort escaped Cole. “Kit’s giving us the fireside version. The stone has an account of the clan’s deeds, honors, and history carved into it. It's a polite way to impress guests and warn off invaders and interest merchants.”

As the wagon started to trundle down the new road, Natalie was struck by how damn knowledgeable Cole was. She’d forgotten he could read and speak dwerick, which was not an easy feat, according to Barnabas. As Cole climbed into the wagon’s back and helped her up, Natalie wondered how much of his knowledge was taught and how much was ‘innate.’

When Cole first told Natalie what he was, it hadn’t bothered her. She’d been too shattered by everything else that horrible night to think much of Cole’s confession. And, if Natalie was being honest, she’d also been too ignorant to understand the full implications. Now, as her perspective widened, Natalie couldn’t help but wonder at her partner’s origin. Not that she was distressed by Cole’s unnatural existence; she’d long, long passed the point of such petty concerns. No, Natalie accepted Cole and loved him, scars and all; she just knew enough now to consider larger questions.

“Are you all right?” spoke Cole, snapping Natalie from her musings.

Blinking away her thoughts, Natalie smiled at the look of concern on Cole’s face. “I’m fine, just thinking myself into a hole. Spending so much time on the road does that to me.”

Accepting that, Cole reached out and offered Natalie his arm. Accepting it, she snuggled against his bulk, letting him wrap them both in his cloak. “How do you think the dwarves will react to me?”

Letting his head rest on Natalie’s own, Cole said. “It will be tricky, but Kit’s right. The Temple and Ivory Tower have long shadows; we can hide in them.”

Sucking in a breath, Natalie muttered. “I hope you two are right.”

By the afternoon, the fog faded and the forest gave way to windswept fields marked by cobblestone fences. Bored sheep nibbled on spring grass, paying the wagon little heed. After traversing wilderness and near-wilderness for so long, Cole had to admit the agrarian scene was somehow comforting. Walking a little ahead of the horses, Cole wondered how many times he’d done something like this. Arriving at some remote settlement, usually one on edge from recent calamity and trying to talk his way inside. More than once, he’d been run off by paranoid locals convinced whatever horror haunted them was his fault. Well, almost run off, Cole didn’t mind skulking about the wilderness doing his duty secretly. He’d planned on doing it in Glockmire after Dame Lorena attacked.

Thinking about that ash-stained night, Cole felt a twinge of guilt and self-doubt. He’d thought leaving Natalie and Wilhelm was the best option. Cole assumed the Leechs wouldn’t have much interest in a petty innkeeper when a killer of their kind still drew breath. A good man paid for his error, and Natalie still suffered from that mistake. Staring at the looming mountains ahead, Cole hoped he’d learned from all his failures. No longer was he just a lone immortal, throwing himself into danger with little care. As Cole’s power had grown leaps and bounds, so had his responsibilities.

But, in comparison to all those previous arrivals at new towns, Cole had a serious advantage now when it came to seeming less threatening. Mina walked beside Cole, wearing the mix of armor and vestments common to Temple Restbringers. While Cole could be mistaken for a monster, and perhaps was one, Mina looked like a true warrior priestess. Hopefully, any dwarves they encountered on the road would see Mina as a good sign. The Deep Folk might not follow any Gods, but they’d be fools to ignore or mistreat a Priestess of Death when the undead were a problem.

Mace swinging on her belt with every step, Mina narrowed her eyes at the mountains. “I think we can reach them before nightfall.”

Cole replied. “It’s important that we do.”

Mina raised an eyebrow and then slowly nodded in understanding. “Seeing Natalie in the sunlight will certainly help our argument.”

Cole bobbed his head in confirmation and added. “Yes, and arriving at night also makes people jumpy, especially in times like these.”

A thoughtful look crossed Mina’s face then. “Do your scars make meeting people difficult?”

Seeing Cole’s mirthless smile, Mina verbally backtracked. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive. I just… you seem to have a lot of experience with things like this.”

Dismissing Mina’s apology, Cole said. “No, no, you are right. Iron-teeth wasn’t the first person to think I was undead. I just thought it was funny since I was just thinking about something similar.”

Mina spoke slowly then. “It's strange your blessing doesn’t heal your skin like it should. Master Time mended your spine after the solstice but leaves you covered in scars? That… doesn’t make much sense.”

Cole simply shrugged; he’d debated telling the group, or at least Mina and Alia, what he was but never managed to find the courage or moment. A mixture of practiced caution and old shame kept Cole from speaking the truth. That he wasn’t human and probably more of an abomination than even a vampire. Or explaining how the post-mortem regeneration Isabelle gifted him with struggled to affect skin.

Frowning at Cole’s none-answer, Mina spoke gently but firmly. “Those secrets of yours, does Morri know about them?”

Looking at Mina, seeing the guarded expression on her marked face, Cole replied. “Yes, he does.”

Fingering the pommel of her mace, Mina sighed. “Why haven’t you told me? I can maybe understand Alia and perhaps Kit, depending on whatever you're hiding, but I’m a Restbringer as well. With Natalie compromised, keeping another mystery and possible threat from me is a bad idea.”

Sucking in a breath, Cole studied the petite but strong woman glaring up at him. She’d matured an awful lot in the past few months, trial and tribulation acting as the whetstone for the blade she wished to be. Gone was the nervous uncertainty and paradoxical over-eagerness of the junior Priestess assigned to the city guards. While Mina was more Natalie’s friend than his, Cole had to respect and appreciate her and what she could do. Unlike Cole, she’d been properly trained and ordained into the service of Master Time. If the Temple Hierophants knew of his nature, why did Cole keep it from Mina?

“I…I am not.” Cole stopped mid-sentence, a sound catching his attention. It was an odd pattern he almost didn’t recognize. Seeing Mina’s confusion, Cole pointed down the road and what was coming into sight. A pair of riders were approaching them, their steeds' odd gait audible against the stone and gravel.

Cocking her head to one side, Mina watched the approaching dwarves and asked. “Are those… goats?”

True enough, the riders didn’t use horses but giant goats. Easily the size of a small pony, the goats were stocky creatures with tan fur and great horns. They didn’t walk like horses, their gait less rhythmic and more cautious. These were beasts bred for the mountains; flat terrain didn’t suit them. Atop intricately woven saddle blankets, the riders guided their steeds easily with one hand, for they both held crossbows pointed at the sky but still loaded.

Mina waived at the approaching dwarves. “Hello! We mean no harm.”

The two dwarves looked at each other, and one of them called out in accented western. “Strange, ya wearin' armor.”

Shrugging, Mina said. “These are dangerous times. I’m a Restbringer from Vindabon; my friends and I seek passage through the mountains.”

A few words of whispered dwerick were exchanged between the riders, and one trotted closer, crossbow resting easily on his lap. The dwarf’s hair and beard were both braided into tight knots, and a gold ring pierced his nose like a bull’s loop. Spitting a wade of phlegm onto the road, the dwarf cradled his crossbow and said, “Prove it.”

Slowly, Mina raised a hand and let pale light rise from her palm, forming a ten-sided star and then an hourglass. With a flick of her fingers the hourglass floated away and down, resting on a nearby patch of grass, creating a pattern of frost where it touched.

Nose ring’s grip on his crossbow loosened slightly. “Fair nuff, who’s the half-giant?”

Cole put down his hood, watching the expression of shock and discomfort on the two dwarves' faces. “I am Paladin Cole; I’d like to speak with your chieftain and bonekeeper as soon as possible.”

Looking at each other, the dwarves spoke quickly, their dialect rough on Cole’s ears. Still, he caught the general gist of the conversation. They were debating what to do, and after a minute or so of weighing the options, Nose Ring asked, “Who is in the wagon?”

Now, it was time for Cole and Mina to exchange looks. Licking her lips, Mina said. “Our companions, a man and three women. We are all traveling towards Fort Erdom to help the war effort and bring important news of the Leech invasion.”

The other dwarf, this one wearing a wool cap over his strawberry hair, clicked his tongue, and the ranger goat beneath him started to trot towards the wagon. Casually, Wool Cap drew a thick knife, its flat chisel-like tip shining in the afternoon light. Cole recognized that flash; it was silver, the one bane the Alukah was still truly susceptible to. Natalie could hide her fangs and fake a pulse, but the sizzle of silver would reveal all.

Cursing under his breath, Cole moved to intercept the Wool Cap. “We need to discuss a sensitive matter with your clan’s leadership. Can you send word to them? We can wait here until a representative arrives.”

Wool Cap sheathed the knife and leveled the crossbow at Cole. Holding his hands up, wondering if he could freeze his flesh quick enough to stop a bolt, Cole knew he’d made a mistake. But before he could try and fix the situation or continue to make it worse, Natalie hopped out of the wagon’s back and started towards Cole. Her skin was ivory, and her eyes were crimson; she’d not even tried to appear human.

Seeing her, Wool cap’s eyes widened in incomprehension than fear. “Sangracki!”

Pointing his crossbow at Natalie he loosed before Cole could do anything. Casually, as if she was practicing some dance, Natalie spun out of the bolt's way and let it clatter off the road behind her. Moving with that same liquid grace, she came up next to Cole and looked at the shocked dwarf with pure annoyance. “What’s in the sky?”

So shocked by this, Wool Cap actually took his eyes off Natalie, seeing the sun hanging low but visible in the west. The distinct click-crack of a crossbow cut through the tense silence as Nose Ring took his chance. Natalie caught the bolt this time, or at least she mostly did. Her timing was slightly off, and the bolt’s head was caught in the webbing between thumb and forefinger. Letting the steel and fletched wood clatter to the ground, shaking her hand, Natalie swore. “Jag, that hurts!”

Staring at the offending dwarf with a look Cole imagined was practiced over a thousand nights at the Silly Goat, Natalie pointed at the sun. “I’m not a normal vampire! I’ve got the Gods, or at least one of them, vouching for me. I know that doesn’t count for much among the deep folk, but at least use your heads and think! And if that’s too much to ask, let your elders do that for you!”

Wool Cap retreated towards Nose Ring, and Cole let him, seeing the nervousness on both dwarves' faces. Eyes barely leaving Natalie, the pair spoke quickly, voices almost raising into an argument. It appeared they were trying to decide which of them would ride back to the hold for reinforcements and the clan’s bonekeeper. Eventually, they simply played a game with their hands; Cole recognized the gestures of rock, axe, tree, and Nose Ring’s customary request for ‘two out of three.’

As Wool Cap galloped away on his ranger goat, leaving Nose Ring alone with them, the dwarf cursed. It was a particularly wretched oath involving bodily orifices, mining tools, and animal fat. To Cole’s surprise, Natalie let out a cute snort of laughter, her face contorted into a sad smile. Raising an eyebrow, Cole asked. “You understood that?”

Shaking her head, Natalie replied. “Not really, but I recognize the words. One of the few times I ever saw Barnabas drunk, he went on a tirade capped by what our new friend here just said. My mom turned white as a sheet, emptied a pitcher over Barnabas’s head, and kicked him out of the inn that night. She only let him return after apologizing for using such ‘foul language’ around me.

Cole felt a smile split his own face. “I wish I could have met her.”

Seeing the flicker of sadness go through Natalie, Cole quickly added. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t-”

Natalie cut Cole off by simply leaning against him. “Me too. I don’t think she’d have liked you initially, but that would change.”

Kissing the top of Natalie’s head, Cole sucked in a deep tired breath. “What do you want to do once the war is over?”

Cole didn’t know why he asked the question; perhaps thinking of happier times spurred him to start planning for the future. He’d never had to do much of that before, only do his duty and hopefully survive it. Now, with Natalie and Isabelle in a more stable place, he couldn’t help but wonder.

Scrunching up her face in the way Cole found so incredibly endearing, Natalie took a moment. “After the Duke’s been driven back over the Tya? When we’ve delivered the stone and, Harmas isn’t a nest of ghouls? I think I’d like to take a few months in Vindabon, maybe a year. Really start to build a life there or at least a foundation. Then… I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to see the world, but it's never been an option. Well… it was for a time, but then, y’know.”

She gestured at her neck, completing the thought. Seeing the high collar she wore and the tiny hints of the stigma and black veins poking out, Cole said. “I will need to start traveling again; staying in Vindabon has been nice, but…”

He let the thought trail, and Natalie blew out a breath. “Normally, this is the part where I’d say we could go together; I could be your partner in battle, not just bed. But… well, if the welcome is like this everywhere we go, then that wouldn’t work.”

They looked up at Nose Ring, who was checking his crossbow over with the nervous fastidiousness of any tense soldier. After a moment, Cole offered. “News about you is spreading fast, and Argentari has ensured it's been good. Perhaps after we help Prince Franz, the Holy League will be more amenable to you.”

Thinking about that, Natalie asked. “Maybe the Prince could write up some proclamation or letter of introduction for me. Being able to whip out something with an Elector-Prince’s seal on it would make events like this easier. I’m practically Vindabon’s ‘friendly vampire’ already; might as well get it in writing.”

An amused snort escaped Cole. “That could work; it beats trying to convince people you were my prisoner or something else.”

Natalie raised an eyebrow and smiled coyly. “Oh, I don’t know; perhaps having you lead me around with cuffs and a gag might be fun.”

Mina, who’d been sipping from her canteen a little ways away, spat out a mouthful of water and started coughing violently. Cole was simply stunned, a blush spreading across his tattered skin. “Uh… um… well…”

With a devilish grin, Natalie got on her toes and kissed Cole. “You are very cute when flustered.”

Recovering slightly, Cole shook his head. “I love you.”

Natalie answered with a kiss. “I know.”

It was night when the dwarves of Clan Maugi finally arrived in force. Natalie was the first to hear them, but it didn’t take the rest long; even mortal ears could pick out the drumbeat of marching feet and clanking armor. Forty dwarven warriors in full plate, carrying shields and hammers, came down the road. They wore flat-topped helmets with chain-mail veils covering their beards and walked with military precision. At this minuscule army’s head were three ranger goats, these ones barded and carrying dwarves who Natalie guessed were the clan's war leaders. Then behind the force, barely noticeable even to Natalie, there was a… cart, or perhaps chariot was, more accurate, pulled by another goat with unusual horns.

All together, the force assembled before Natalie felt insufficient; after everything at Fort Carnum, she was honestly a little insulted this is what Clan Maugi sent against them. That thought poked at some barely used instinct, and Natalie sucked in a breath, tasting the night air. Sure enough, the scent of old wool, dead vegetation, and sweat reached her, wafting over from the nearby fields. While she couldn’t tell exactly where, Natalie knew an ambush waited nearby. Feeling a little better and worse about the situation, Natalie didn’t envy the poor fools who now lay in bushes and sheep dung waiting for the signal to attack. Considering she hadn’t sensed the ambushers till now, they probably weren’t well armored and few in number but still skilled.

A flash of bleak amusement went through Natalie; here they were, trying to negotiate safe passage, and she was sizing up the dwarves like meat to butcher. That fell humor curdled into something nastier when Natalie realized this was her predatory instincts at work. She was used to the creeping desires and cursed thoughts in the confines of Vindabon, but now, outside the city, they shifted. Normally, her mind whispered schemes related to luring people into dark, secluded spaces or drugging Cole to drink her fill. But like any successful predator, Natalie was adapting, seeking battle and carnage to sake her bloodlust.

Forcing these concerns and revelations from her mind, Natalie watched the column of dwarf soldiers split, letting the chariot pass through them. Pulled by a sturdy white goat with curling rune-marked horns, the chariot held an extremely old dwarven woman. Stooped with decades and perhaps even a century of life, the elder was clad in solemn white robes. Like most dwarven women, she lacked a beard but grew long sidewhiskers that stretched from her jaw to chest even when braided. Strangely, a quartet of bejeweled golden rings pierced the woman’s lower lip. On the front of the elder’s robe was an odd collection of pouches and sacks, almost like Cole’s bandolier except less organized.

Stepping off the chariot, the old dwarf limped towards them; from how she walked, Natalie guessed one of her legs was maimed beyond healing magic’s power. One of the armored riders dismounted then and removed his helmet. The chainmail veil rattled against his armor as he offered a hand to the elder. She eyed it for a moment before accepting his aid with a grunt. The war leader was large by dwarf standards with a thick black beard and eyebrows so large Natalie wondered how his helmet fit. His nose was also pierced, with both nostrils holding multiple rings of gold. By now, Natalie guessed the body art was some cultural quirk or clan marking, not that she was knowledgeable about such things.

In a deep, rumbling voice, the war leader said. “I am Chieftain Galjor of Maugi. Why have you brought a Sangraki to my clan’s holdings, followers of death?”

Mina stepped forward then, offering a polite bow to the clan leader. “Honorable Chieftain, I am Priestess Mina Vrock of the Tenth Temple, and we come to you as agents of Vindabon engaged in a most important task. Our companion is cursed as the enemy is, but not one of them. She is marked by Master Time and warded by one of his Paladins.”

Frowning, Galjor asked. “Is it true the sangraki can survive the sun?”

Nodding, Mina offered. “We would be willing to camp here under guard until morning to confirm this for you.”

Now, the dwarven crone spoke in a voice like creaking wood. “No need.”

Reaching into one of her pouches, the elder produced a piece of amber that seemed to glow with inner light. Something about the amber seemed familiar to Natalie, and the memory of what it was snapped into place just as the stone’s light grew brighter. Shutting her eyes and letting out a tired breath, Natalie took a slow step forward, ignoring the clatter of raised weapons. Out stretching her arms, Natalie let the captured sunlight wash across her. Hierophant Nyami used a similar trinket while testing the extent of Natalie’s powers.

Warm golden light spilled out from the elder’s hand, and Natalie ignored the familiar itching on her skin. As the warmth and radiance of the amber intensified, Natalie suddenly had a terrible thought. Nyami said it would take five times the sun’s natural light to truly burn her. Would the dwarven mage go that far? Thankfully, right when the itch became truly painful, the light died.

Opening her eyes, Natalie felt her pupils dilate as she looked around. It suddenly occurred to Natalie the captured sunlight might have ruined everyone’s night vision. Not a good side effect for a tool with such use against vampires. Perhaps that’s why she’d never heard Morri, Mina, or Cole mention using them in combat.

The crone grunted and put the stone back in its pouch. She then rattled off a lightning string of dwerick that even had Cole frowning. Pointing a knobby ring-wrapped finger at Natalie, the elder said. “Too bright for Daywalker; she should be ash.”

Blinking in surprise, Natalie had never considered those using stolen blood might not be able to match her resistance, but it did make sense. Shuffling forward with that limping gait, the female mage approached Natalie, her eyes narrowed, either in suspicion or poor night vision. Uncertain of what to do, Natalie let the woman approach, noting the almost geologic level of wrinkles covering her face and hands.

Once she was close enough to touch Natalie, the crone rasped. “Bend down.”

Confused but not seeing any other option, Natalie got to a knee and let the crone run bony fingers across her face. After a moment of befuddlement, Natalie realized the crone was checking for some kind of protective coating. That a vampire might use something akin to makeup to avoid the sun hadn’t ever occurred to Natalie, and it was a chilling thought. Seemingly satisfied, the crone nodded and then grabbed something from another pouch. Moving slowly, the mage brought whatever was in her hand to Natalie’s forehead. It turned out to be a small iron nail, and the crone jabbed it painfully into Natalie’s skin.

“Ow fuck!” yelped Natalie, and she batted the crone’s hands away, uncaring of the ripple of steel her movements caused. Glaring at the crone, Natalie asked. “Was that necessary?”

A sour smile split the woman’s wrinkled face. “Not sidewalker, not daywalker, definitely a nightwalker and perhaps a streetwalker.”

Slowly, Natalie asked. “I’m sorry, did you… did you just call me a prostitute?”

Still smiling, the crone shuffled back, waiving Natalie off with a gesture. “Tis a joke; let an old lady have her humor.”

Getting up, Natalie muttered under her breath. “Yep, a lot like Nyami.”

Collecting her nail, the crone proclaimed something in dwerick that got a murmur from the assembled soldiers. The chieftain frowned, his eyebrows meeting like cloudbanks, but he quickly started barking commands. As the crone clambered into her chariot, the dwarven soldiers arranged themselves to encircle the wagon. Almost as an afterthought, the chieftain collected a small bag from his belt and tossed it towards Cole. The Paladin caught it and looked inside, letting out a quiet breath. Seeing Natalie’s confusion, Cole took her hand and smiled.

Reaching the wagon and the rest of the group, Cole said, “That went well; they are bringing us to the clanhold proper. They will have questions but are willing to let us in for the night.”

Mina frowned a little. “Any chance this is a trap? That they are taking us somewhere, we can’t run?”

Kit made a dismissive noise. “I’m assuming the bag was the usual custom? If so, then we are perfectly safe.”

Cole nodded, and Kit took the bag from him and opened it. Casually, he plucked a strip of stiff, discolored material from the pouch and ate it. Seeing the looks of shock and confusion on the women’s faces, Kit explained. “It's salted mutton, meaning they’ve extended their hospitality to us.”

Alia made a noise of understanding. “Oh, just like in the old stories, that’s clever.”

Seeing Mina’s raised eyebrow, Alia elaborated. “In my lines of work, you learn a lot about guest rights and rites. They say the first dwarves learned animal husbandry from humans, and those same humans learned mining in return. So, really traditional dwarves will offer a mix of those two gifts as signs of welcome and protection.”

Grabbing a piece of meat, Alia started walking, chewing noisily as she did. “We’ll be fine as long as no toes get stepped on. Now, c’mon, I want to get there before morning.”