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Interlude:  Old Pete

Read by Asclepius

Nearly a decade later at the Dragon’s Breath Inn in River’s Cross close to but across the river from Jade Valley.

Sitting in the old Dragon’s Breath Inn several years after his adventures in the area, Phlebus was enjoying the peace of the quiet afternoon after his leisurely walk down to the valley. He took another sip from the half full pint in front of him on the table. His ship had docked in Port Phoenix nearby and he had walked to the valley from there. It was time. He had been waiting for the right moment to ask the brewer about a rumour he had heard in his travels.

When Phlebus finally asked the question, Old Pete was thrilled to tell the story to another passerby. It wasn’t often that anyone asked him for a story anymore. It wasn’t often that anyone travelled this way into the valley anymore either.

“River’s Cross was a quiet little hamlet once. Before those strange elves usin’ magic showed up out of nowhere. They became the darlin’s of the village. There was even dances out in the square once in a while and me ol’ Uncle Clarence used to play his accordion for them. That was before. Before the residents all started disappearing like, one by one. No one really noticed till there was only me left tending the bar. I don’t mind, really. But it gets kinda lonely all by meself.”

“I gets travelers now and then. People like yourself travellin’ into or out of Jade Valley sometimes stop here to catch their breath before the long hike out of the valley. There’s not much to see now, but River’s Cross was once a right gem of a hamlet.” Old Pete took another sip from his whiskey.

“Seems you are interested in hearing more about my little pub. It’s called the Dragon’s Breath Inn ‘cause o’ what happened the night the elves left town. Well, I’ll tell ya, but I warn ya now…. it’s not a pretty story. And it doesn’t end well.”

He stopped to sip again from his drink then went on, “It all started about a decade ago when those elves showed up. They sauntered into town like they knew where they were going and had the money to pay for it, ya know what I mean?  It was the stink of magic that gave em away, an’ I don’t hold truck with no magic. I din’t pay em no mind long as they paid for their drink in gold and din’t get too uppity. Soon they had some of the other residents building a sort of temple for em. Somewhere they did their whispering and magicking. It used to be over down the lane, but it ain’t there now a days. Least ways I ain’t seen no one around there for a while now. Not since that night they all got drinking that special ale they had been promising that they were making for everyone in the Hamlet.” Old Pete tipped his glass to Phlebus again before swallowing. “They built themselves a brewery an set up doin little magic spells for folks to speed healing, or add a pox to an enemy, you know, regular stuff like that. Well then, after awhiles they were in here one night whispering. Always whispering. But that night they was purty excitable. Giddy almost, for that lot.”

“They was discussin’ the finished product they had made. An Ale. And not just any ale. Somethin’ special that never been thunk up befores. Ale of Essence they bin callin’ it. Ale of Essence? Now them is some fancy words for that swill. There was no reason for them to be so dang excitable about it. It didn’t taste right to me at all an’ I spit it right out, but them mages told me that it would give me everlastin’ life if I drank some. I don’t see no difference. Though I rightly am still alive so it must be workin’, eh?” He stopped to cackle a bit to himself over his joke before going on.

“Anyhoo’ it was a mostly dark and stormy night. We was all huddled around the bar and tryin’ to stay warm. You know the kind o night I’s talkin’ bout? An after a few pulls from their special cask, them elves started arguin’ who was the better magic user. You can imagine that it ain’t my place to get in the middle of angry drunk mages so’s I just stayed back here and sorta hid behind the hutch over there. They was castin’ spells and drawin’ funny shapes in the air with their wands, and soon enough they got serious. That’s when I got scared. Real scared. They wasn’t foolin’ round anymore.  One o ‘em decided to try to do a spell big and the others were shouting at the caster to stop cause an I quote “we didn’t get it right even with the whole group of mages in the temple”. It didn’t convince the mage to stop, and they just kept chanting an’ tossed some ol bone on the ground out front of the inn. T’other one, that one that was with all them elves but was human but still a magic user ya know? The quiet one. Well, he started a different chant, and I could feel the hairs on my arms rise up and let me know there was trouble. Big trouble. The quiet one’s chant put a shimmer around the pub. I ain’t never seen nuthin’ like it afore. Then the shrieking started. And the fires and the roaring and the fires. Them fires was sumthin’ alright.” He paused again lost in thought. He sipped awhile at the cup he nursed in the crook of his arm while he spoke.

“I looked outta that window over there and saw the shadow of the creature fly over us. It was huge, scaly, orange and spewin’ fire outta its maw every which way. Somebody tol’ me it was a dragon, I ain’t never seen one o those before. Don’t wanna see another one either. That shimmer from the quiet mage protected the pub from the dragon’s breath that night. We was the only building left standin’ the next day. Them mages mostly perished tryin’ to control that dragon thing in the night and lucky for them when the warriors from Jade Valley saw the dragon flyin’ round the valley they came and battled it to death. I don’t know what finally happened, but it got kilt some which way. You can see the bones scattered over there behind the inn in the woods still. The few mages that were still living the next day wandered off quick as a wink muttering something about everyone would know where they were now, and they needed to find some mage who had run off with their special book. It’s been pretty quiet these days, but you can sometimes see the smoke and feel the shadow of that dragon flyin overhead.  I reckin that shadow thin’ is looking for them mages even still. Now iffin you want some o’ that Ale of Essence you is gonna hafta go find one o’ ‘em what makes it. I ain’t going alookin’. More Ale?” He finished with a flourish.

“Do you know where they went?” Phlebus asked quickly, covering his pint with his hand.

“Nope, but I heard tell that someone called Nestor was the leader even iffin he weren’t herebouts. Maybe you’s can ask ‘im. Come back on in for a visit sometime won’tcha?” Old Pete waved as Phlebus downed the rest of his drink and rose to leave.

Echoes From the Caverns

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Interlude:  The Mages of the Red Branch

Read by Alleine Dragonfyre

The evening of celebration had quickly soured in the small hamlet of River’s Cross near the second entrance to the valley past the old, covered bridge that led to Jade Valley town. The quiet mage completed the shimmery air spell that would continue to shield the pub for the rest of the night at least. He had been enjoying his drink before all the trouble broke out and old Pete didn’t deserve what was going to happen to his establishment. The buffer would at least protect the inn, and the innkeeper if he was smart enough to stay inside it.

 When several of the others started arguing about why the dragon summoning spell had not worked when they were at the old location in Jade Valley itself, why it would certainly work now, and they started calling on each other to make another attempt, then the mage knew they no longer deserved to be in charge of that magic book.

 It had been a subject he had been contemplating for months now. After discovering that the room of casting they built in Jade Valley was made from blocks made from stone bodies of people, he found himself questioning everything he knew about the Southern Red Branch. And when they built the brewery in River’s Cross using the stone bodies of villagers who weren’t sweet enough to become part of their Ale of Essence, he knew they had not learned anything at all from their experiences.

There was something missing in the teachings he had grown up with and no one was willing to answer his questions about virtue and vice anymore. The elf mages who raised him didn’t have much time for his questions before, but now they had become surly about even considering his questions at all.

He wanted to know where the book came from and how they happened to have it. He wanted to know the face of the person who created this magic. From what he experienced, this book had brought only pain and suffering to everyone who they encountered, and their own group was splintered and decimated. This was no way to build a new society of order and calm.

He thought the book might be cursed or worse, have come from before the fall when magic worked differently. No one would answer any questions about The Fall either. Cataclysmic. Devastating. That’s the description he was given, and it was expected to do. They swore that he could not squeeze knowledge from them that they didn’t have.

 He knew something was wrong with their logic and their thinking, but he had no way of determining what it was and no one in his cabal would help him search for the answers. The elven mages wanted power but had no plan how to become powerful nor what to do with that power if they were able to attain it. He was sure there was more to success than simply attaining power to do what you wanted to do.

 He watched them get more and more angry as they huffed and puffed and chanted. The rest of his group was single minded in their pursuit of success. He waited until the other mages had looked up the spell again, put the book aside, and were focused on the summoning spell itself. Finally, he was ready to act.

Quickly slipping the magic book under his garment into a small pocket he had stitched there for this very use, he made his way to the Obsidian dias on the roof of the pub to get a better view of what the drunk remnants of the Southern Red Branch mages would summon. He kept a travel scroll in his hand, ready to leave with the book.

 The dragon they eventually summoned was not part human this time. It was massive and glowed a shimmery orange colour. It wanted nothing to do with any of them. It was bent on destroying those who summoned it and anyone else who came into its path. Its struggles against the drunk mages’ control did not waiver. It turned and attacked the hamlet time and time again. Fire rained down and the buildings in the hamlet soon smoked and flamed. The billowing smoke attracted attention as it became obvious that fire was spreading.

Within a short time, folks all the way from Jade Valley started arriving to fight the fire. Someone quickly dispatched back to Jade Valley to beg for assistance from the few outlanders and townsfolk who could battle a dragon, too. After the dust and fire and rain of the battle subsided, everyone left gathered to find out just what had happened.

Jade Valley townsfolk found the remnants of the mages’ brewery and potion shop. They learned that the essence in the ale the mages had been experimenting with in their basement brewery was made from the remains of the townsfolk who had disappeared from River’s Cross hamlet. Whether it actually gave eternal life was difficult to tell without testing. No one was going to test the brew. It was destroyed. They tore the brewery down and obliterated any trace of the evil the elven mages had done. The few elves who remained alive were shackled and taken to the Jade Valley Jail to await trial. The dead were buried, and the fires raked over until they were cold.

The mage watched all this while hidden in plain sight on the rooftop of the inn. He took another long pull from his now warm ale before muttering a spell to use his last travel scroll. He vanished with the magic book in his pocket and a keg of Ale’s Essence tucked under his arm.

Echoes From the Caverns