Black Moon Hollow

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” said Huel. Despite his devoted polishing, you could tell the age of the establishment based on the shade of murky brown staining the drinkware. Decades of pint-pouring tend to do that.

Undeterred, the miniature maiden made quick work of her drink before returning the glass. “Ta, Miss.” Huel acknowledged. “Pleash, call me Bikth.” replied the colourful creature, gesturing for another.

“I beg your pardon?” inquired Huel, a look of concern creasing his crown.

“B. I. Xth.” she replied, noticeably annoyed. “Ath in, Bikth. Bikth Blathebloom. Ith' really quite shelf-exthplanatory.”

“Forgive me, Bix. It’s an enchanting name.”

Bix blushed. “Sho, thoshe mathive sthone sthathues in the hillths are … dwagonths?” Her lisp was more pronounced after a long, albeit lucrative day’s work. Being a bard isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, but it has its perks.

The barkeep responded dryly. “Story goes they were turned to stone by a magi. You might recognize her statue out front. Y’kno, the one you perform next to?” Huel baptized a glass in the wash bin, praying that the stains would be miraculously absolved. Leaning in, Huel breathed, “Rumor has it the statues are awakening.”

“Thatch’a memorial? Lookth more like a gravesthone to me. No offensh.” She paused, thoughtfully. “I think a mutt left a gift there earlier…”

“Aye, that would be Hector,” Huel responded with a slight sigh. “Older than the memorial, I reckon. Friendly enough, but he does smell.”

“Grosth!” Bix retorted. “I met a dwagon wonsh. Hith bresh shmelt worsh than a wet dog. Short of like copper, mixched with a hint of shulfur.” Nose flinching.

“Did you now?” Humored Huel, carefully stashing the converted crucible.

“Do you questchun my character, Shur?”

“I would never dream of it,” replied Huel devoutly.

“I sheduced him with my shultwy shinging. Shpeaking of witch…” The glass thudded against the oak counter as it slipped from her tiny clutches. “Thith placth needths a bit of musthic! Allow me to entrancth and beguile you.”

Before Huel had the chance to protest, Bix wobbled to her feet, arms flailing unceremoniously. Centering herself, she spun around to face her adoring fans.

Various humming and nondescript noises emanated from the petite performer, resembling something of a warmup. “For my firsth thong… ugh-hum.”

“A bard of great renown, did travel from the town,

To place unknown, by trail of stone, until a cave she found.

Within the caverns deep, of what the legends speak,

A darkness hold, the mystery told, to those within the keep.

But what is this? A shining star, amidst the shroud of blackened smog.

Restore my sight, alight my path, I wish to feel the warmth of hearth.

In cavern I’d provoken, the Wyrm I had awoken,

A drake of death, with fiery breath, accused of treasure stolen.

Return to me you must, those items made of rust.

Lest you refrain, you shall remain, a heap of ashen dust.

So lust she did intend, to save a mortal’s end,

With song so sweet, a morsel treat, a snack - a perfect ten.

With wave of auburn hair, entranced by siren stare,

Resist he might, this helpless flight, imagined her laid…”

Mid-meter, a solitary figure entered the tavern. Much like the seasons, Huel’s expression turned from “scorched summer” to “cool winter.” He cocked an arm, taking aim at a distant booth. The figure followed suit, proceeding to join an unseen party in a corner of the room.

To the uninformed, this new arrival looked like the usual Gaelen type; fair skin with the trademark autumn hair adorned by the natives. But this one was special. Her glamour was obvious. Bix paused, poised.

“Whath’a member of the Court doing here?”

Frantically surveying the prehistoric pub, Bix unearthed a suitable hidey-hole. A large, supporting beam jutting out from a worse-for-wear-wall. The discovery of a lifetime.

Turning to Huel, she pressed a finger to her lips, following up with a devilish wink. With no appropriate response at his disposal, his expression “faded to fall.” Within moments Bix had her back to the beam, doing her best to remain unseen. Shaking his head, Huel returned to altar duty.

A familiar voice materialised from the shadows. “I warned you this would happen.”

Nemira cracked. “This is no time for I told you so’s. Are you here to take stabs at me or save our people?”

“Both.” Responded Zaria wryly.

Nemira took a sip of the sweet ale in front of her. With a disposition to match, she stated, “As delightful as ever, sister. How do the men resist such charm?”

Zaria hissed. “I’m the one who does the stabbing around here, remember?” opening her garment to reveal a row of concealed blades.

Rolling her eyes, Nemira’s non-answer spoke for itself. “Can we get on with this? Time is short.”

Her sister responded in kind. Nemira continued. “Let’s separate the issues. Our subjects are withering away to nothing, along with Ryder. Regardless of how you feel about him, we likely wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for what he did.”

Zaria eased into her seat, folding her slender arms. A lengthy, dark braid cascaded down her left side, clothed in a sleek, rogue-ish manner to match. Her house signet ring completed the ensemble. Being the ‘fallen’ sister meant she was free of dressing in courtly colors and associated expectations.

“I’m quite acquainted with the past, sister. I’m reminded of it every day. Humans aren’t to be trusted and Ryder is certainly no exception.” Sour notes sang in Zaria’s reply.

Nemira struggled to verbalize her words. “I know you don’t trust Ryder but if we don’t help him, our people will continue to perish. They’re calling it ‘The Fading.’”

Bix shuffled uneasily from around the corner. “The ‘Fading’?” She pondered, her imagination birthing endless creations of fancy. Who was this ‘Ryder?’ Were those enormous statues involved somehow? She left her musings and returned to eavesdropping.

Tears threatened. Nemira fidgeted with her curled hair. “It’s just…”

Zaria broke her vigil. “Look, I will always defend my family but this whole thing could have been… avoided.” She paused. “Regardless, how’s he holding up?”

“It’s worsening. That infernal amulet is killing him, killing us all…” mourned Nemira. “He can’t even walk, let alone risk being seen by the others. They already suspect foul play.”

“This complicates things.” Droned Zaria, thoughts spilling. “Listen very carefully. This is what needs to happen...”

Nemira did her best to control her emotions, nodding in unison with her sister’s proposal. “There’s only one issue, we need someone on the outside. We have to keep up appearances.”

Zaria smirked.

“You can come out now.”