The fate of the world hangs in the balance. Belthar faces imminent defeat, and if the Empire falls there will be nothing left to oppose the armies of darkness. One hope remains. One last all or nothing gamble, but for it to succeed the heroes of civ...
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“What an amazing bunch of people!” said Dennis, still shaking his head in amazement as they left Noklin Valley behind. “I’ve never known anyone like them!”
“We passed through Pastora once,” said Thomas. “The homeland of the western nomes, and we never experienced anything like that. The Pastorans just ignored us for the most part.”
“Well, it wasn’t really the same,” pointed out Shaun. “In Pastora, we were part of a large merchant caravan, and so isolated from the common nomes for the most part, and the nomes that live along the trade route see enough foreigners that they’re used to them. I bet that if we’d been alone, though, and passing through another part of Pastora, we’d have gotten the same kind of reception as we did back there.”
“With hospitality like that, there must be a temptation for people of other races to settle down among them,” said Dennis. “Why leave, if they’re going to treat you like that?”
“So long as they work for a living, outsiders are welcome to settle among us,” said Teasel, walking beside him. “But you’re talking about freeloaders, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” agreed Dennis. “Parasites who want to spend the rest of their lives living off your hospitality. You must get them.”
“Now and then, yes,” agreed the nome with a smile. “But we have our ways of dealing with them.”
“How?” asked Naomi, intrigued.
The nome’s smile broadened. “You may have heard about our sense of humour.”
They stared at her for a moment, and then Dennis burst out in laughter. “Of course!” he said when he could finally speak again, wiping tears from his eyes. “I should have realised! By the Gods! Hospitality and a fondness for practical jokes! What a combination!” He chuckled over the idea for the rest of the day, with the occasional glance at Teasel as if to remind himself of what they were leaving behind and shaking his head in wonder that such a race of people could possibly exist.
Noklin Valley was about eighty miles from Grad Cannelof, the last major landmark they had to pass on their way to the Ruby Keep, but the route the teamsters had to follow to get there was more like two hundred miles long and it was a full ten days before the teamsters finally arrived to stare up in wonder at the towering bulk of the mountain, standing all alone in the middle of a wide plain between the southernmost of the range’s tallest peaks to the north and the lower and rounder foothills to the south.
“Well, here we are,” said Shaun, looking around curiously. “That must be the valley we want over there.” He pointed north towards a wide gap between jagged mountain peaks.
The others were all tingling with excitement, knowing that they were finally getting close to their destination. “Well, what are we waiting for?” said Thomas eagerly. “Let’s go!”
