Inüer vanished below the horizon and the first of the stars began to come out one by one. Veiled at first, but as they walked on with still no sign of Midway the stars became brighter and the night became darker.

Just as Vythe and Fairris were discussing stopping for the night the road fell away down a gradual slope before it led into the village of Midway.

The town was not much bigger than the hamlets Lieut and Fairris had passed through previously, but because of its location Midway had a much inflated fame. This was because Midway was situated exactly where the borders of realms Gaianaus, Sesserrech and Cientrasis met, and the town was built to accentuate this fact as much as possible.

Long stone walls moved along the line of the borders of the three regions and at the centre stood a tall tower. The tower and walls were nothing compared to a big city, but the inhabitants were proud of their iconic location and village design. Between the long walls dozens of houses were built and many paths twisted between them. At the base of the tall tower sat the largest building within the town, and as it was it was also the tavern, it was another aspect for which the town was famous.

At the beginnings of the town it was just the tavern, only known for having soft beds and excellent tasting ale. It was called the Midway Inn, and from those humble beginnings the town had grown, and now was only known as Midway. But the tavern was still held in high regard and was indeed the only thing that kept the townsfolk together.

Lieut did not stop at the top of the hill to admire the peculiar architecture; he led the group down and into the village. Midway had hundreds of travellers moving through the town so the folk only gave them a passing curious glance as Lieut walked by.

The tavern was bustling with commotion and music when they entered. A large fire burned in the corner next to the stairs that led up into the tower where the rooms for rent were located. A long bar sat directly across from the entrance with many stools in front of it. Behind the bar, shelves of bottled spirits, wines and beers were stacked and above them were the three coats of arms that bordered the town.

There was the silver wolf on a green field for Gaianaus, the golden eagle on a sky blue field of Sesserrech and the red dragon on a yellow field of Cientrasis.

Around the room were dozens of wooden chairs and tables where the customers sat, and directly to the left as they came in and to the far corner on the right, were passageways that led under the walls to the other bar rooms of the Midway Inn.

It was fairly crowded this evening, and no doubt most of the customers were patrons from the village, but Lieut did note several groups of rough looking travellers, a few off duty guardsmen, and a lone dwarf staring into his mug at the bar.

Vythe took the lead as they entered and led the group to a table in the corner.

“Shall I order?” Vythe asked as they sat down.

“Nothing for me,” Liuden said stiffly. “I think I shall have an early night.”

The guard said no more and moved quickly to the bar to rent a room.

“He left quickly,” Vythe quipped. “You will want water, I suppose Lieut. What of you Fairris?”

“Same as you,” Fairris replied with a shrug.

Vythe nodded and headed over to the bar where he began to talk with the waitress who was there.

“Liuden really did leave quickly,” Fairris remarked as she watched the guardsman head to the rooms.

“Better for him, and better for us,” Lieut replied simply.

“I suppose you are right,” Fairris agreed. “After everything that has happened I guess he is only thinking of his own wellbeing. It probably will not do him well to be noted as being in our company should more trouble come our way.”

Lieut did not reply as he continued to observe the tavern and the occupants within.

“Lieut,” Fairris said after a few minutes, grabbing his attention. “What did Rathgard mean when he said that he was on the same side as you?”

Lieut looked at Fairris calmly, completely expecting such a question after Rathgard had foolishly blurted it out.

“He meant what he said,” Lieut replied simply.

“Are you working with Rathgard then?” Fairris pressed suspiciously, “Is that why you are heading to Port Na’brath?”

“Before today I had never met Rathgard,” Lieut replied honestly, “and I am heading to The Port for my own reasons. What does it matter anyway?”

Fairris looked at him in surprise. “Rathgard destroyed my life, had my friends and I imprisoned for treason simply because we were the squad that brought you to the penitentiary. I would have you tell me what you know of Rathgard and his actions.”

Lieut continued to look at Fairris calmly, unblinking. “As I said, I had never met Rathgard, and I travel to The Port for my own reasons.”

“Are you working with the High Commission then?” Fairris persisted.

Lieut rubbed his brow with annoyance. “What if I am? It is no concern of yours one way or the other.”

Fairris looked at him in puzzlement, but she did not say anything else.

Vythe returned with three drinks then and he sat down at the table.

“Am I interrupting anything?” asked Vythe curiously when he noticed the tension between Lieut and Fairris.

Lieut looked away and took a swallow of water from one of the clay cups that Vythe had brought with him.

“Fairris?” Vythe looked to the elf.

“Just before the fight, Rathgard claimed that he and Lieut were in league together,” Fairris explained, her eyes never leaving Lieut’s.

Vythe looked at Lieut curiously. “And are you?”

“As I told Fairris,” Lieut said slowly and deliberately, “I had never met Rathgard before then.”

“Well Rathgard was a Regional Commander and a member of the High Commission,” Vythe reasoned aloud. “Is it they that you are in league with?”

“Enough,” Lieut said irritably. “Who I ally with or not is my own business.”

“Perhaps I should tell more of the High Commission,” Vythe replied with a serious expression on his face.

“Spare your breath, I know all the relevant details,” Lieut replied angrily.

“But what is relevant is not always true,” Vythe was quick to reply. “All the High Commission is, are a group of individuals that seek to manipulate each realm so they may get the greatest profit. Every realm has a Regional Commander on the High Commission, and those members weave their lies into the ears of the region’s lords and kings. Twisting and turning the decisions of the rulers to suit their own selfish desires.”

Vythe took a sip of wine. “It is my belief that it is the High Commission’s ultimate goal to bring all the realms under their rule.”

“None of what you said is news to me, Vythe.” Lieut looked at Vythe blankly.

“You know this and yet you continue your allegiance with them?” Vythe narrowed his eyes.

“I never said I did,” Lieut snapped back. “Both of you chose to infer that yourselves. I detest the fact that you two make presumptions about my allegiances.”

With frustration Lieut shoved his seat backwards as he rose from the table, coincidently knocking his cup to the ground in the process and causing it to shatter on the floor.

“Then why would Rathgard say such a thing?” Lieut heard Fairris ask Vythe as he left the table and walked over to the bar.

“I think you will be paying for that cup you broke,” the barkeep said to Lieut as he sat down on a stool near the dwarf who was heavily drunk.

Lieut glared at the barman, causing the man to back away.

“A cup of water, barman,” Lieut demanded.

The barkeep hesitated for a second but poured him a cup anyway, this time in a pewter cup.

“Water?” Laughed the dwarf, looking over at him, beer foam saturating his beard. “What kind of softy drinks water?”

Lieut looked at the dwarf curiously, his dirty blond hair and beard was wild and coarse, his arms and chest thick and muscled. The dwarf’s booted feet dangled above the floorboards as he slouched in the bar stool with over a dozen empty mugs around him.

“Someone that does not want to end up like you,” Lieut replied simply.

The dwarf burst out laughing and slammed his fist into the bar top, sending the mugs flying.

“You’re alright for a big fella,” smiled the dwarf, his eyes shining under his bushy eyebrows. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“No.” Lieut replied sternly.

“Danno, where in the Abyss are you? Danno?” the dwarf called out loudly and the barkeeper came running, wiping his hands furiously on his apron.

“What is it Bārdin?” asked Danno. “Confound it all, there be no more drinks for you this night. You be a good smithy for this town I will grant you that, but this be the last time I will be letting you drink yourself blind.”

Bārdin slowly looked up at the barkeep, drool running down his beard, “I was wanting to buy me friend here a drink,” the dwarf said slowly.

“And I said I did not want one,” Lieut cut in, causing both of them to look at him.

“There is the cursed dwarf!” yelled a man from the doorway, and he walked briskly through the crowd accompanied by four large friends.

The man’s face was dirty with bits of dried blood on his cheek and forehead, his arm was in a sling and his expensive clothes were ripped.

“Remember me you little imp?” the man sneered at Bārdin.

The dwarf spun around on his chair and studied the battered man through bleary eyes. “Can’t say I do.”

Bārdin swung back around and grabbed a hold of his mug of beer so forcefully that a lot of the golden liquid spilt onto the bar top.

“You shoed my horse you son of a Grinlock,” growled the man. “The beast threw that shoe and sent me flying to the ground.”

“I see what this is about.” Bārdin smiled at the man, “You want me to shoe it again. Come by tomorrow and I’ll do it for ya.”

“I already killed that damn horse,” snapped the man. “I want my money back, plus the amount the horse was worth.”

Bārdin burst out laughing. “You halfwit, there is a reason we Dwarves invented contracts. Perhaps you should have had a closer look at yours, it said: ‘that in the cases of horse shoeing I’, that’s me, ‘will not be held liable for any damage, or injury, sustained if said horse or horses throw a shoe or shoes, over twelve hours after the shoeing of said horse or horses’.”

Bārdin smiled widely at the man. “An’ it be over twelve hours since I shoed your horse. You can read, right?”

Lieut watched with amusement as the man’s face turned red with anger and humiliation. The corner of his eye began to twitch and the man lashed out at Bārdin, kicking the stool out from under the dwarf. The kicks did not stop once Bārdin had tumbled to the ground, and the man kept slamming his boot into the dwarf.

Lieut had seen enough and he slipped off his barstool, launching the pewter cup into the head of the pretentious man in the process.

“How dare you, vagabond,” the man cursed. “Do you have any idea who I am? I am the son of Lord Bellis Dasher. Lord of Midway and all of the Endress Vale.”

“I do not care who your father is. It is one thing to demand your money back, and quite another to beat up a drunk.” Lieut glared at the five men. “Have you no honour?”

“You’ll stay out of this silver hair, if you know what’s good for you,” said the closest man, pointing a grubby finger in Lieut’s face.

“I do not like being threatened,” Lieut said coldly.

Quicker than the man had time to react, Lieut grabbed the man’s finger and snapped it backwards. The man screamed and fell to his knees clutching his broken finger.

The next man in line lunged at him with a wild roundhouse punch. Lieut easily stepped inside the arm, blocking the punch and grabbing the back of the man’s neck before slamming his head into the bar top.

Lord Dasher’s son stumbled backwards with a squeal and fell to the floor as his other two bodyguards charged at Lieut.

Lieut stepped ahead and slammed his foot into the first man’s gut, dropping him to his knees. The second bodyguard punched at him, but Lieut easily deflected the attacks and countered with an elbow to the man’s jaw. Lieut jumped back half a step and launched a turning kick into the side of the man’s head, which launched him over the bar top and he tumbled to the ground beside the cowering barkeeper.

Lieut walked towards Lord Dasher’s son, slamming his knee into the head of the bodyguard who was still struggling for breath. The blow dropped the man to the floor boards completely unconscious.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Lord Dasher’s son cried, still on the floor, “By The Five I am sorry, I’ll do anything.”

Lieut stopped in front of the man, considering what to do. But Bārdin did not hesitate, the dwarf raced past Lieut and grabbed Lord Dasher’s son by the collar.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Lord Dasher’s son begged, but he was interrupted by a loud crack as Bārdin head-butted the man right in the forehead.

Bārdin turned back to Lieut laughing, blood trickling from his nose and lips. “Haven’t had a good rumble in a long time.” The dwarf laughed and he wiped the blood off his face.

“You aren’t bad either, laddie,” Bārdin continued. “But if ya want to be a good brawler, you got to practise more.”

Lieut glanced back to the four of Lord Dasher’s bodyguards that were still on the floor.

“Four to one,” Lieut reminded the dwarf. “Perhaps it is you that needs more practise?”

Bārdin laughed again as he moved to stand the stool Lord Dasher’s son had knocked over.

“Stop there you vagrant,” growled one from the group of guards that had been watching the fight. “Both of you are under arrest.”

“Give it a rest Foldon,” said Bārdin, as he glanced over his shoulder.

“We have had enough of your antics Bārdin,” replied the guard wearing the colours of Sesserrech. “This is the last time you cause a drunken brawl and get away with it. And as for you stranger, we don’t like your type in this town.”

“I did not see you jump to the dwarf’s rescue when these men were kicking him,” remarked Vythe who had walked over to them through the stunned crowd accompanied by Fairris.

The guard with the Sesserrechien colours looked at Vythe closely. “Who asked for your input? You might be a noble of Port Na’brath, but you aren’t in The Port at the moment. Here, I say what the law is.”

Vythe looked suddenly uncomfortable, and his lips went tight, his fingers twitched.

“What house is that design anyways?” Foldon asked, pointing to Vythe’s vest.

Suddenly the group of guards went flying backwards as a wave of energy shot forth from Vythe’s hand. The tables splintered and the chairs crumbled as the guards wearing heavy chainmail armour landed in a heap in the corner. Many people looking on cried out in surprise and stumbled away as the music suddenly stopped and everyone looked to see what the commotion was.

“What in the Abyss, Vythe?” Fairris exclaimed in surprise.

“We need to leave, now,” Vythe replied and he darted for the staircase that led up into the tower.

Lieut and Fairris did not argue the point and they followed Vythe to the staircase, and for some reason the dwarf Bārdin followed them in a drunken daze.

“Stop. Someone stop them,” Foldon the guard called out, but none were game after what they had just witnessed.

Instead of taking the ascending staircase Vythe darted down the stairs that led to the basement.

“Where are you leading us, Vythe?” Lieut asked calmly. “You said you wanted to leave.”

“Going through the town would have been unwise,” replied Vythe not slowing his run. “The guards would have been upon us in minutes. There is a smuggler’s passage in the basement that will take us safely from here.”

“What was all that about?” Fairris asked as they came to the bottom of the stairs.

“Ask me again once we are out here,” replied Vythe seriously.

Vythe moved quickly to the end of the cellar and to a large wardrobe where he opened the doors and pushed aside the hanging coats. Vythe climbed in and swept aside a heavy curtain that hung at the back, which hid the way into a secret tunnel. Fairris moved through next and Lieut followed.

The blue glow of subterranean fungi greeted Lieut as he followed Vythe and Fairris along the tunnel. It was quite a tight fit and the jagged wall sometimes made it difficult to move along. The air was damp and the constant trickle of water could be heard echoing out of the darkness.

“What is this place?” asked Fairris curiously after they had been moving along in silence for many minutes.

“It was used to smuggle goods past the border during the war between Lord Wataven of Sesserrech and King Barnett of Krnōrel in the Forth Age,” explained Vythe. “Border taxes had increased excessively because both Cientrasis and Gaianaus had signed the Treaty of Neutrality that prevented them from helping. So instead of paying the taxes they dug this passage, and the owner of the Midway Inn allowed merchants to use it for a lesser tax. Quiet clever really.”

“Sounds like extortion to me,” Fairris remarked.

They pushed on through the darkness, the glowing mushrooms and moss illuminating their skin and granting them an easy passage. But despite the light, it was not so easy, many times Lieut found that he had to crawl under low arches and squeeze sideways through narrow gaps. He even had to take his sword from his back many times to stop it catching on the rocks.

“You need to be thinner than a Valenthōr to get through here easily. How exactly did the merchants get their produce through these tunnels?” Fairris asked as she manipulated her body so she could move through a small gap.

Lieut watched the smooth roll of Fairris’s body as she moved through which caused him to painfully stub his toe on a rock. Clenching his teeth angrily he purposely kicked another rock.

Vythe let out a small laugh at Fairris’s question. “That is something I do not know. But like as not through some form of magicks.”

The passageway continued on in much the same manner as it carved a scar through the earth. Sometimes they climbed over large boulders, other times under low arches, but always the path was no wider than a couple of meters and the ceiling no higher than seven-feet. The minutes began to slip into hours and still they continued to walk through the tunnel, until finally they turned a corner and came to the end of the cramped passage.

The tunnel ended on a small ledge halfway up the side of a hill that looked down upon a wide river. Only a few trees grew around the river and he could see the Yineth Plateau rising up to the south.

“Here seems a decent enough place to rest for the night,” Vythe remarked and he sat down on a rock and conjured a fire.

“Now you can tell me why you attacked those guards?” Fairris said, sitting down on a rock opposite Vythe.

“He recognised the design of my vest or was about to,” Vythe replied as he ran a hand through his raven black hair.

“I fail to see the significance,” Fairris remarked with a puzzled expression.

“All the noble houses of Port Na’brath have a unique design for their family’s coat of arms,” Vythe explained. “All noble members of the house hold wear a vest, or similar such garment, with the house’s design upon it. It is a symbol of authority and all in Sesserrech, as well as other realms, learn to take note of it.” Vythe displayed his magnificent black and gold vest more clearly to them.

“Why was it a problem that he recognised your house?” Fairris asked curiously.

“Because word spreads,” Vythe replied as if it were obvious. “Soon my family will hear that one of their sons was seen at Midway, and shortly after that they will realise that none of their sons were actually anywhere near there.”

“What do you mean?” Fairris cocked her head to the side.

Vythe paused and looked seriously at Fairris and Lieut.

“My family think I am dead,” Vythe stated. “So when they hear one of their sons was at Midway, they will think that someone has stolen the design of their house and will come looking for me. Or they will think that their son Vythe Varrintine is not in fact dead, and they will come looking for me.”

“You do not wish to see your family?” asked Fairris in surprise.

“I most certainly do not wish that,” Vythe replied with a shake of his head.

“But you are still heading to The Port?” Lieut remarked, giving Vythe a curious look.

“Yes, it seems I am,” Vythe replied with a slight smile and he threw a twig into the magickal flames.

Loud snores interrupted their conversation and they all turned to see the dwarf Bārdin lying in the mouth of the cave, using a rock for a pillow.

“Is that the dwarf from the tavern?” Vythe asked in surprise. “Did he follow us?”

“Dwarves.” Fairris shook her head with distaste.

“Does it matter?” Lieut asked.

Vythe laughed. “I guess not. But I have to say that I was quite looking forward to sleeping in a bed this night. Alas for my poor back.”

Vythe sighed heavily and made himself a bed by the fire amongst the rocks and grass and was soon asleep. Fairris gradually followed Vythe’s lead, leaving Lieut wide awake and staring into the fire.

*****************************************************

Who is this strange dwarf? Why did Vythe really come back? Why doesn’t Fairris like dwarves? What is going to happen once Lieut meets up with his brother?

So many questions!

Stay tuned for next week’s chapter and find out. Or if you simply cannot wait until then you can buy Chaos of Choice from any good online book store in both paper back and kindle editions.

Thanks for reading.