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Zyf's Journal Part 18
This is chapter XVIII of the Journals of Zyf, Devoted of Myn
A Fairy Tale
“The dungeon is cleared, and that upstart wizard has gotten his come-uppance,” said Zyf, Devoted of Myn, to the rest of the Talons. “Let’s move everything we can into the tower so we can defend it easier.”
Hours later, the Talons had moved all the provisions, coin, books and weapons into the the vast holdings of the flying tower. Mithril tipped spears with darkwood hafts, short swords, long swords…the Forge of Lugh had been busy.
‘How much longer until we reach your fiefdom, Darrien?’ asked the mighty cleric.
“Barely a week,” replied the knight.
“Good, good, the sooner we can unload this into a neutral location the better,” said Zyf. “I think I’ll make one more round through the dungeon, just in case we missed something. Hold her steady, son, I’ll be in back in a bit.”
The flying tower was simultaneously moving towards Darrien’s lands while remaining steadfastedly attached to the dungeon. “Powerful travel magic indeed,” thought Zyf. “My lady, Myn, must have been consulted on such unique travel magicks.”
A commotion near the front gates roused Zyf from his musings. “What now?” he thought, moving toward the entrance to the vast subterranean dungeon. The Wyldlings from the nearby village stood in awe, mouths agape at the spectacle before them. A host of shimmerlings flitted about the evening sky, fae lights filled the air and cascaded down onto the well-worn path leading to the hidden cave. Approaching on magnificent luminescent chargers, the Seelie court approached.
“S’ich taun bal-phent?” asked their leader as he reined to a stop in front of the dwarven cleric.
Zyf raised his hands and slowly walked toward the fay procession. “Be welcome here,” he responded in perfect Sylvan, speaking slowly and carefully. Zyf knew the fay nobility and their retainers were no trifling matter. Showing his hands and greeting them as honored guests would do much to relieve their apprehensions. The faerie leader dismounted then and bowed to the steadfast dwarf. “Your journey could not have been easy,” continued Zyf, “may I offer you a safe place to rest and, perhaps, if it please you, a warm meal? Our fare is humble but sharing with new friends will make it a feast to remember.”
The leader bowed again and smiled, “We thank you for your kindness and your offer.” Turning to look over his host, he nodded ever so slightly to the female still mounted on her great horse as if asking her a question. The briefest of smiles appeared in her lilac eyes and her head inclined towards the male and the dwarf. “We accept,” he said turning back to the waiting dwarf. “I am of the Seelie court, as are my noble friends. I will spare you our names and destinations. This is not meant to be an insult, but rather, we are pursued and we would not wish to provide any information that could cause you and yours danger. Perhaps I have said too much already, but it is known even in this part of the world that the dwarven people are a stubborn race and getting one to betray a friend, or a guest, would be no small task. Please forgive us if we offend.”
“Fear not, no offense given, and none taken,” said Zyf, spokes-dwarf and diplomat, “I understand that you do this as a matter of protection to those under my care, for that, I thank-you. Please, be welcome.”
The sigh of relief from the Seelie nobles was palpable in the night air.
Later, much refreshed and having traded stories of their travels, a Wyldling guard rushed into the dining hall.
“My lords!” he exclaimed. “Something fell approaches the cave!”
“Gods of the night! The Red Man must have followed us here!” said the Seelie noble. “Our apologies, gracious dwarf and boon companions, we must to battle ride. Seelies gather your lances!” And with that, the Seelie entourage rushed out leaving Zyf’s Talons perplexed.
“To arms! Protect the innocent! Defeat evil! Ah-ha!” shouted Darrian, striking a pose, then running out of the room, his golden locks and embroidered cape fluttering in his wake.
‘Ooooo! Smuj wants to fight wif dem pretty peoples, too!’ and out he ran brandishing his fiery spear.
“For the elves, huzzah!” echoed Quintain following behind.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Emma, “if I’m going to have any chance with that rich elven pretty boy, I better go too (sigh).” Stuffing her bosom back into her jerkin, she strung her bow and followed the group a little more reluctantly than the others.
“Where’d ev’rybody go?” asked Flann, raising his besotten head from the table. “Zyf…Zyf…Zyf…c’mere c’mere c’mere, I gots to tell you sumthin’. Yer amazin’. Don’t let nobody tell you dif’rent neither. Yer a helluva dorf! I jus’ wanted to tell ya that. You and me been goin’ ‘round ’n ’round for the better part of a year. Remember when we was in that Mordinklingin’s, no that ain’t it, Morganfreeman’s, no, hold on a sec…Mor-den-kain-en’s mansion. Yeah, thas it. What wuz I sayin’? Oh, yeah, when we wuz in dat Morganfreeman’s mansion an’, pour me summore wine now, there ya go, so we wuz in that mansion thingy and that wuz fun, jus’ the two of us and them others and them white eyes freezin’ guys; I dint like them so much, but you, you wuz there and we showed ‘em we did we surely did an’ now here we are again jus’ you an’ me an’ at leas’ there’s wine now which is good so I’m gonna lay down here and take a lil nap, gimme a pillow!”
How does the battle unfold? Find out in Chapter 19 of Zyf’s Journals!
Or, just go here and see them all.
