Chapter I:
The Adventurers
1
The white marble walls of the Great Temple of Marfa shone brightly in the spring sunshine, welcome after the long winter. New grass peeked from the patches of snow that still lingered on the ground, and yellow wildflowers had started to bloom along the road from the temple to the village center.
The temple stood on the edge of Tarba village, northernmost point of Lodoss. A few hundred villagers led simple lives on the plains between the peaks of the White Dragon Mountains, home to the ice spirits that pushed spring later than in the southern regions. In a few days, though, the snow blocking the passes would melt, and young couples from all over the island would come to receive blessings from the goddess Marfa for happy marriages.
For Neese, the high priestess, the busy season was just beginning. She and her guest sat together at a small table in her private quarters. Neese was perched on a simple wooden chair and dressed in pure white robes embroidered with the sacred emblem of Marfa, the goddess of all creation. Her long, black hair had turned to grey, and deep wrinkles etched her fifty years’ experience into her face, but her posture and bearing radiated vitality.
“You’re leaving on a journey?” she asked her visitor with rare uncertainty.
“I am,” he replied gruffly from his seat across from her. He was stocky and half as tall as an average man, with a disproportionately large head and a neatly trimmed grey beard—a dwarf, one of the fae folk of the earth. His skin was tanned from the glare of the sun reflecting off the snow, and his amber-colored eyes showed fierce determination.
“Why?” Neese asked, rising from her chair and kneeling beside the dwarf to look into his eyes. She lay her hands on his shoulders.
“No reason. I want to, that’s all,” he said in typical blunt fashion.
Neese knew the dwarves well. It was said that their hearts were made of iron—and that their stubborn streak was what gave these seemingly clumsy fae folk such incredible skills as craftsmen. This particular dwarf was a fine artisan who could transform rough gemstones into brilliant jewels, precious metal into glittering ornaments.
She knew the dwarves, and she knew this dwarf in particular. Once Ghim had decided on something, he would never change his mind.
“If this is about Leylia, it isn’t necessary. I gave up on her long ago.” she said, but her pained expression betrayed her.
If she ever felt her age, it was when she thought of her daughter. Leylia had disappeared seven years previous—signs of a struggle had been found at the temple, evidence that she’d fought an intruder and been taken away.
Neese had been gone at the time, called to heal Ghim after an accident in the dwarven mines left him gravely injured. Leylia’s absence broke Neese’s heart, but the old dwarf’s guilt might have been even greater. Ever since the incident, Ghim came to the shrine to help out every chance he could.
Ghim didn’t answer. Dwarves never lied—they simply fell silent.
“It wasn’t your fault, Ghim. How can you feel responsible for the timing of that attack? Not even the gods can know the future completely—how can we mortals expect to know more?” Neese offered a smile, but Ghim didn’t break his stony silence. “I’ve asked the goddess Marfa about her many times—where she is and whether she’s alive or dead…” She paused, thinking back to the response she’d received every time.
“What did Marfa say?” Ghim ventured.
“It wasn’t an answer, really. More of a riddle. She said that Leylia is alive, but doesn’t exist.”
“Alive, but doesn’t exist?” Ghim cocked his head in puzzlement and watched Neese’s doleful expression. He’d met her way back when she first arrived at the temple—beautiful and wise, radiating inner strength and kindness. She had collected an impressive array of titles: she was a Saint, one of the Six Heroes who defeated the Demon King during the Demon Wars, the Earth Mother Goddess’s beloved daughter, and the Dragon Tamer, to name a few. But despite all that, there was no arrogance to her, and she dealt with everyone equally. She loved to see the dwarven workshops, and she often visited the Iron Kingdom, the dwarven settlement closest to Tarba. Even the grumpiest dwarf couldn’t help but smile when talking to her.
But her radiance had clouded since Leylia went missing.
Of course he knew that her disappearance wasn’t his fault. But he also knew that he had to go look for her. He owed Neese so much. He would never be at peace while she was suffering.
The thought was always in the back of his mind, but he also knew there was no point in searching aimlessly. But circumstances had recently changed—he had a clue, now. Someone from the settlement had just returned from a journey and reported that he’d seen a woman who looked just like Leylia—only ten days earlier in the town of Allan, not far from Tarba. Ghim didn’t hesitate for a moment before making up his mind.
“I’m not a thinking dwarf, but I trust my strength. I can’t solve your riddle, but dragging your prodigal daughter back home shouldn’t be a difficult task.”
Neese felt her eyes mist over. The dwarf was always so gruff and serious, but inside his iron heart, deep passion stirred. All dwarves revered the truth and thought nothing of risking their lives for a cause.
She sat silently for a while, almost starting to speak several times before trailing off into silence. Finally, she shook her head.
She closed her eyes and clasped Ghim’s hand in hers. “Thank you. Please bring Leylia home.”
Ghim’s eyes crinkled in delight. “Just leave it to me. I promise I’ll bring her back. The Goddess’s strange riddle will be solved by then, I’m sure,” he said with vigor.
Neese gently hugged the dwarf’s solid frame with her thin arms. “When are you leaving?”
“I’ll stop by the settlement, then leave at once from there.”
“The journey will be dangerous. Not like it was in my youth, but all the same—be careful.” Neese’s travels had been during a time of great death and destruction, when demons sealed in the Deepest Labyrinth had been released to wreak havoc throughout the land. She’d been revered as a Hero—one of the six who had saved the country—after the defeat of the Demon King, but that title meant nothing to her. She only cared that humanity was flourishing on Lodoss again.
“Thank you, Priestess of Marfa. And do me a favor, will you? Pray that I’ll be able to solve this riddle and bring your daughter back. Praying’s not my job.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Zaxon, for now. There’s only one road, after all, and I’ve got a friend called Slayn living there. I haven’t figured out the rest yet. The path will lead me, I’m sure.”
A few hours later, the dwarf craftsmen took his first steps down the road. Thick, grey clouds covered the sky above his destination to the south.