Moonshadow (Book 1 of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Nine: Appointments are Necessary, Pt 1

Anklestrap's exterior was a strange sight. A large archway was carved into the mountainside behind thick wooden palisades, and small wooden outbuildings dotted the stone outside its entrance, perched on a gradual slope.

Several dwarves stood near the entrance, and they all raised a hand in greeting to Fykes. He smiled at them and pulled an expensive looking bottle from somewhere in his cloak, waving it around to a chorus of quiet clapping. Katerin watched this exchange with eyebrows raised, shaking her head as he dismounted and bantered with the dwarves.

She took the time to study the structure, leaving the people to Fykes. The stone dust had been cleared away, and the entrance to the town was simple. Straight lines carved with precision, but nothing fancy or regal. An odd thing for dwarves—it must be fairly new. It did show a hint of how picky they were when it came to their crafting. The naked eye could not fathom even the slightest of imperfections in the gray stone face of the mountain, but it was not exactly an example of magnificent dwarven stone cutting.

Fykes beckoned to her and handed her horse's reins off to one of the dwarves. After saying a quick farewell, he led her into the dark, wide cavern. As they entered and her vision adjusted, she was shocked for a moment by the lack of torch-light. She had assumed that it would be lit by torches or bonfires.

The interior had brilliant blue lighting, effused from the ceiling of the cavern far above. Katerin stopped in her tracks, and Fykes simply watched her, offering no explanation. They stood in that same spot for several minutes, and Katerin's neck began to cramp as she gawked at the ceiling.

Fykes leaned over with his typical amused expression. "It's Luxian ore," he said, flashing his charming, mischievous grin. "It glows in darkness before it's refined. They left it in the ceiling."

The veins of blue light danced off her free-flowing hair, as she gaped at the glowing patterns above her.

"So, where are you heading now?"

She shook herself and looked deeper into the cavern. Small, flat-topped stone buildings dominated this part of the town. The buildings grew larger the further they went, and in the distance, a lavish stone and iron fence could be seen. Only a few wooden structures dotted the space. Three tiers split the roadways and separated all the buildings. The top one held the ornate fence, and the two lower tiers were cluttered with buildings and shops, glowing from the interior. "Uhm. I'm not really sure," she said, chewing her lip as she looked around.

"I can show you around. Place isn't that big, after all." Fykes guided her down the main street pointing out every building. It smelled of damp stone, slag, and smoke, of forges and the tang of metal. They visited a simple general goods shop and purchased more food for their journey back to O'siaris.

Katerin found a most interesting magical bag, and she was able to talk the man's price down, when Fykes finally quit laughing at her attempts and helped her instead. After the shop, he continued showing her around, even taking her up past the manor grounds, where the entrances of the mine sat. He named everything, down to the smelters and warehouses, and he pointed out every dwarf he knew. It seemed he had an unanswered calling as a tour guide, she thought more than once, as his odd hair glinted in the pale blue light.

Anklestrap was small—even smaller than O'siaris, given that it held no fields for crops. And it was loud—the pounding of forge hammers echoed and reverberated across the stone. The dwarves were gruff and ever moving, but she found herself enjoying the place. Everyone she met knew the next person she met, and they were—for the most part—friendly towards her. In Hearth-Home, no one was openly kind, and associations were often private things.

As they walked around the uppermost road that would lead them back to the inn, Fykes tossed her an apple. "Know where you're going to start, now?"

She laughed, catching the fruit and taking a bite. It was far from the freshest apple she had ever eaten, but it was better than salted meats. "I guess at the manor. You said Holter heads the town, right? He might know more than Graiden did." A part of her had been hoping to simply see her mother on the street, or tucked away in some window.