The Glass Valley

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Dwarves learn from a young age where dragons dwell, as nothing is more likely to cut a life short. A dragon’s habitat depends, of course, on the type of dragon. It can confidently be stated that these dragons, known by those well-read enough to care as horned shale-backs, don’t typically dwell in towns. They dwell in more mountainous climes, and in peripheral caves, tunnels, and abandoned mines; much to the ire of the dwarves as, to them, no mine is ever truly retired.

The shale-backs in question, however, did not live in the mountains, nor did they live in caves, tunnels, or abandoned dwarven mines. They had made their homes instead in the streets and alleys of the inauspiciously named town of Auburn, and their nests in whatever structures were of sufficient size to house them, though such creatures aren’t averse to pulling down a wall or two to expand their real-estate.

The town itself, nestled comfortably in the Auburn Valley, so called for its preponderance of beech and acer trees with all shades of yellow to red leaves, had been subject to a rather sudden migration of the scaled creatures only weeks past. The unfortunate thing, particularly for the residents of the town, is that the migration was in fact not the most major of recent events, but rather a symptom of a much deeper problem.

The Valley was flanked by two great mountain ranges on the north and southwest sides, each populated with numerous clans of subterranean peoples. For the most part, they got along. Testament to that statement was the Union Bridge; a great, stone structure which stretched over the wooded hills, streams, and rivers below, providing a convenient route from one set of mountains to the next, for the sake of a co-operative economy. It sported two sets of tracks for minecarts to go one way or the other, and a pulley-operated lift about half-way across, so that even the Auburners could involve themselves.

It was on the southeast side of this bridge that two young dwarves stood, easily distinct from one another. The shorter one’s hair was the lightest blonde you could conceive of, long and flowing, and he had the softest stubble you’d ever see on a dwarf. The other’s hair was equally long and flowed like pitch. He had a voluminous moustache that draped past either side of his mouth, decorated with beads, rings, and fine chains, all gold and silver. Similarly pale, as one might expect of a sun-deprived people, they were both covered in enough coal dust to get a fire going. They were taking turns with a pair of binoculars, a fairly recent invention still in its prime, sales-wise.

“Well?” Odo asked. He brushed his long, platinum hair back with the stubby fingers of both hands, so it didn’t get in the way when it was his turn. “Do you see them?”

“...”

“Volli?”

Volli grumbled something inaudibly thoughtful. Having tied his hair back, he didn’t need to worry that the wind was blowing from behind. It brought all manner of sweet, summer smells with it, carrying no shortage of pollen past the pair. Odo’s nose began to itch, so he rubbed it against his sleeve, sniffling.

“I see one,” Volli finally said. “I think. It could just as well be part of a collapsed building. It’d help if the sun wasn’t on that side. We should have come in the evening.”

“Give me the binocliers,” Odo demanded, hand extended and animated for emphasis.

Volli batted it away. “I want to see them as much as you do. Wait...”

“What? Do you see one?”

Frowning, Volli turned his head from the binoculars to Odo. His top lip moved up on one side, taking his moustache with it. “Did you just say binocliers?”

Odo frowned back, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Yeah.”

“Binoculars. You know… Bi, as in two, ocular as in eye related? Bi-n-oculars.”

“Fine,” Odo grunted, snatching them away. “Give me the Byenoculars, then.”

“Bin-oculars...” Volli mumbled to himself.

His companion ignored him, gazing through the lenses towards what remained of Auburn, hoping to catch a glimpse of at least some draconic body part or another. The sun’s glare made the air appear misty. It really didn’t help.

Just a head would be nice, he thought to himself, knowing he’d settle for a tail. After a few minutes of fruitless scanning, he sighed, lowering the binoculars. He looked down at them as his dry, cracked lips twisted with disapproval.

“They’re not very good, are they?”

Volli raised a bushy eyebrow at his companion. “How’s that?”

“I know everyone’s raving about them, but...”

“But?”

“I mean, you can see quite far, sun or no sun, and with both eyes, but...”

“…But?”

“Isn’t a telescope just...better?”

Volli growled, as politely as he could manage, his hands flexing as if looking for something to strangle. “All right. Where’s your telescope, then?”

Odo held out the binoculars. “...What?”

“You said a telescope’s better,” Volli replied, grabbing them back. “So let’s use yours.”

Confused, Odo glanced around in thought. “I don’t have one.”

“Exactly. What do we have?”

“Well...your binoc-ulars.”

“Yeah. Binoculars,” Volli breathed, once again returning his attention to the fallen town, enjoying a moment’s peace he knew was destined to be short-lived. As he looked on, searching for any sign of any dragon, he could almost hear the gears turning in Odo’s head.

“Two telescopes would be better, when you think about it.”

Volli closed his eyes, taking a calm breath. “What are you on about now?”

“Two telescopes. One for each eye, but then you can share one with a friend.”

“Binoculars are two telescopes.”

Odo shook his head, wearing the most serious expression. “But they’re two small telescopes. I mean two big ones, like…” He extended his hands as far as he could reach. “This.”

“Have you ever held a telescope? They mount the big ones because they’re bloody heavy. You’d never be able to hold it steady, and what use is that? It’d be like looking through a keyhole in an earthquake. Besides, we can’t afford one telescope, let alone two.”

Odo’s slightly less bushy eyebrows raised in thought. “That is true.”

Volli shook his head, pointing towards Auburn with the binoculars. “Look. We know there’s dragons down there somewhere. We also know that they don’t really move about much during the day. They are there, though. I was here when it happened. I saw it.”

“So you’ve said. And so you love to say,” Odo commented. “I’m not doubting you. The entire mountain was in uproar about it for days. I doubt they’d all lie.”

“Even if it was just me, it wouldn’t be a lie,” Volli shook his head. “Anyway... Thoughts. Do you think we can do this?”

Odo shrugged. “I don’t see why not. The machine works; we’ve seen it. And Godnar’s manufacturing is second to none. If anything can do it, it’ll come out of her workshop.”

“I think you’re right,” Volli agreed.

A silence came upon the pair as they surveyed the landscape. They ignored the group of dwarves passing by with heaves and hos, pulling along a cart piled with all the things they hoped the Grugs would want to buy.

“Right,” Volli said, lips smacking in a very business-like way. “What do we think, then?”

Odo shrugged. “I say let’s go for it.”

“And if we’re burned into a nice, medium rare?”

“Rather medium rare than well-done.”

Volli thought on it for a moment. “Good point.”

“Either way, we wouldn’t need to worry, would we? We’d be dead.”

“We would, at that. It’s not the being dead that worries me, though, it’s the dying.”

“Our money troubles would be over though, wouldn’t they?”

Volli smirked. “That they would, brother. You’ve the right of it there.”

“To Godnar’s then, Volli?”

Volli hooked his binoculars onto his utility belt, nodding firmly. “To Godnar’s, Odo.”

* * *

Godnar’s forge was a roughly hewn cavern dug high up on the northeast side of the mountain. It was permanently soaked in a deep orange light by the large, central furnace that had burned for decades. The smoke and fumes grazed against the oblique ceiling until they left via the window, which was actually more of a floor-to-ceiling hole in the side of the mountain but, to a dwarf, it was a window. It sported a sprawling view of the northern tundra and the sea beyond, leading to distant, frozen lands, but rare was the dwarf who’d dwell on such things.

Instead, they’d more likely be preoccupied by thoughts of their own mountain home. Be it safety, security, great hunts both overland and under, or finding meaning in the responsibilities of their work, most dwarves gave little thought to anything beyond their own slopes.

Exemplary to this, barely garbed in her trusty leather apron and gloves, a pair of leather shorts, and little else, Godnar stood hammering away at a glowing chunk of iron when she noticed two figures in the corner of her eye. She continued hammering until the glow began to fade, and her visitors knew better than to interrupt.

“What do you two want?” she asked, catching breaths as she raised her goggles. Her eye sockets were the only clean part of her, and it was hard to see the green in her eyes on account of the saturating firelight. Her hair, seemingly a dark brown, was really closer to a pale orange once she’d visited the baths.

“Um,” Odo answered.

Volli took a step forward. “We’ve decided. We’ll do it.”

She raised her sooty eyebrows at them. “You were still deciding?”

“Well...yes. It’s not something to walk into haphazardly, is it? They’re dragons.”

“Hm. Well, we’ve made fifteen so far. How many do you think you’ll need?”

“That’s the thing—” Volli began to say.

“We didn’t see any dragons,” Odo loudly declared. “So we don’t know.”

“You,” Godnar pointed at Volli with her hammer. “You saw them, didn’t you? When they came down.”

Volli nodded quickly, the jewellery of his moustache rattling. “I did.”

“How many were there, then?”

“I hadn’t a mind to count them. Besides, it was dark. If not for their noise and the occasional fire spout, you’d hardly know they were there at all.”

Godnar’s brow furrowed, and she exhaled long and slow from her nose.

“Ten,” Volli panicked. “At least ten.”

“I’ll make another fifteen. If this doesn’t work out...”

“We’re snookered,” Odo nodded. “We know.”

Godnar walked over to him, holding her hammer inches from his face as he pulled back. The muscles in her shoulders, Odo noticed, were very defined, but he turned away as her face drew uncomfortably close.

“If this doesn’t work, you bald-faced little shite, I’ll retire my bellows and replace them with your lungs. Do you understand?”

Odo swallowed, nodding nervously.

Godnar used her hammer to point at Volli. “You?”

Volli shrugged, nodding unsurely.

“I’m putting you in charge,” she said to him, before glancing briefly at Odo with disapproval. “Since you might actually have a pair.”

Frowning, Volli swallowed before he spoke. “I am in charge. This is my expedition.”

Godnar laughed incredulously, walking over to the tool bench at the side of the room, where she began rummaging.

“It stopped being yours when you enlisted me with barely a silver to your name. As I’m providing the gear, the ammunition, and the necessary funds,” she tossed a pouch towards him, and he just managed to catch it, to the sound of a healthy jingle. “I’m taking ownership. Eighty percent to me, twenty to you two. All right?”

“No. We’re worth more than twenty percent,” Volli told her.

She laughed briefly, before realising he was serious. “All right. Twenty-five.”

Volli shook his head firmly. “Fifty-fifty.”

Her eyebrows raised, almost of their own accord. “Thirty.”

Tossing the coin pouch up in the air, Volli raised his bottom lip, head shaking. “I’ll not risk my life for thirty percent.” He pointed at Odo with his full hand. “Nor will he.”

Godnar stared at him, eyes flaring. Volli met her gaze, trembling within but unflinching without. Odo glanced from one to the other, utterly anxious.

“Forty percent,” she finally said. “And that’s only for having the stones to challenge me. Are we agreed?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Volli nodded. “Agreed.”

Odo let out a long, relieved breath.

“All right,” Godnar said, pulling her goggles back over her eyes and turning back to her forge. “Get on with it, then.”

“On with what?” Odo asked.

“This isn’t a two-man job. You’ll need help. That’s what the coin is for.”

Odo approached Volli tentatively, never taking his eyes off Godnar as she returned to her work. “Um. What’s the coin for, exactly?”

Volli looked at him, unable to stay mad for long. “It’s to hire someone to come with us. You know...to help.”

“Not just anyone,” Godnar said, watching the glow return to the metal as she maneuvered it with her tongs. “Go to the Flat Rat and see if you can convince Terric. If he’s not there, he will be eventually. He can use a crossbow like no one’s ever seen, but he won’t come cheap.”

“And the rest?” Volli asked.

“The rest of what?”

“The money.”

“If you can get him on-board for less than that, I’ll be surprised.” She raised her voice as she began hammering. “Spend it on someone who’ll distract a dragon by getting eaten, for all I care.” She laughed to herself. “Then again, you already have someone for that.”

Odo frowned, and Volli shook his head. He tucked the pouch away in his coat—a great, long, black thing made from treated mole leather, with as many silver buttons as pockets. Without a word, he exited the forge, followed into a winding mountain hallway by a suddenly less stressed Odo. He breathed, shaking his head animatedly.

“I hate her.”

Volli rolled his eyes. “No you don’t.”

“How could I not? You’ve seen how she treats me.”

“You invite people to treat you like that.”

Odo stopped. “What? How?!”

Volli stopped too, looking at the floor. He turned to Odo, who looked rather buried in his own coat—a ratty, woollen thing with as many moth-holes as buttons missing.

“By being you,” Volli calmly said. He forced a smile. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. She’s a good person, deep down. Just a bit...”

“Ugly?”

“See, this is what I mean. Just by being you.”

Odo suddenly felt self-aware.

“You think she’s ugly?” Volli asked, distracted.

Odo’s face took on an inquisitive expression. “You don’t? Wait...”

Volli promptly turned and started walking.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Just by being you, Odo!” Volli called back.

Odo chuckled to himself. “Volli and Godnar, eh?”

“Ignoring you.”

Following after him, Odo came to another stop as the smile faded from his face.

“Hang on,” he said to himself. “Did she mean me getting eaten by a dragon?”

Volli tried not to laugh but it escaped as a snort.

“She did!”

“Odo,” Volli said, a clear smile on his words. “You have your talents, and getting eaten by a dragon may well be one of them, but it won’t come to that. We’ve seen what her machine can do.”

Odo’s steps quickened in order to catch up. “That’s not even what bothers me. It’s that she bloody said it...” He sank into a moment’s silence. “Do I really invite it?”

“Sometimes,” Volli answered, suddenly stopping. “Odo...”

“What?”

“Do you have any idea where the Flat Rat is?”

Odo thought for a moment. “No. Why?”

Volli scratched the back of his head. “Because neither do I.”

* * *

The pathways in Houm, that being the largest mountain on the northern side of Union Bridge, where Volli and Odo made their home, varied from tunnels which the smallest of dwarves had to squeeze through prone, to tall, broad halls held fast by expertly carved pillars and walls bearing statues, busts, and carvings of eminent dwarven figures. They were few and far between, however, given the limited space within a single mountain. For the most part, they were winding little passages with or without metal tracks, lit by long-burning torches, if they were lit at all, which is why most dwarves had cause to keep a small lantern on-hand.

Traversing the tunnels thusly, Volli and Odo eventually came to a wider, better lit corridor of fairly even proportions. An iron sign hung beside a torch where they entered read DRIGOTT’S WAY, beneath which stood a wooden sign painted with a left-facing arrow and the words tHE fLAt RAt. This was, of course, after some time hopelessly wandering the many winding ways by which one might have navigated Houm’s interior, and following a variety of good and bad directions from the generally well-meaning denizens of the mountain.

There were tales of dwarves setting out into darker, unmarked corridors, only to return years later with tales to tell that could turn a dwarf’s beard white—or make a woman grow one. Naturally, it was Odo who feared the possibility that it could happen to them. Relief, then, was in no short supply where he was concerned. He pointed the same way as the arrow.

“We did it,” he said, words still ridden with nerves.

“It actually wasn’t that far away in the end,” Volli sighed. “I told you we should have gone back to ask Godnar.”

“So you’ve said, but I didn’t want to ask Godnar.”

“She’s nothing to be scared of.”

“Volli, she’s everything I am scared of.”

Volli raised an eyebrow. “What, women?”

“No, not women,” Odo replied, incredulous. “Just... Horrible people. She’s almost as bad as those thugs we ran into.”

“They weren’t thugs, they were veterans. You should really do some reading on war markings one day.”

“I’ve no interest in tattoos,” Odo said, with clear disinterest. “Anyway, we’ve come all this way. I suppose we’re going to the Flat Rat. What was the fellow’s name again?”

Volli hesitated. “Eric?”

“Terric.”

“Terric,” Volli agreed. He started down the corridor, followed in short order by Odo.

“So, what do we think The Flat Rat is? Pub?”

“Probably. And if it isn’t a pub, chance is it has a bar. You know how it is.”

Odo let out a soft groan. “All too well.”

They came at length to a surprisingly ornate sign carved into the wall above a brazier. It depicted a rat being squashed by a mallet, its innards somehow tastefully protruding from its mouth. Small ribbons and swirls were carved around the edges, and a strong yet decorative font bore the name beneath: THE FLAT RAT.

“You can wait out here if you like,” Volli suggested.

Odo shook his head, despite a pang of temptation. “We’ve come this far.”

Volli nodded once as a smile broke his serious expression. He clapped a reassuring hand on Odo’s shoulder. “Good man. Let’s see more of this Odo.”

He nodded back, a touch inspired, feeling it slip as Volli turned and pushed the door open. There was no sudden ruckus, nor was there any sound at all. There wasn’t even any light, for that matter, so Odo stood by the door, holding it open.

“It smells like a pub,” Odo said, ignored.

“Hello?” Volli ventured into the dim room. “Anyone here?”

Some mumbling and grumbling came from somewhere further inside.

“Hello?”

“We’re not open yet! Come back in an hour or two!” a voice called.

“Ah. Apologies. You wouldn’t happen to be Terric, would you?”

A glowing light formed around a corner ahead, carved into the back of the room. It preceded the appearance of an elderly female dwarf, lantern outstretched, and unimpressed; if her face was anything to go by.

“I’d happen to be Terric’s mother, thank you very much. What’s he done now?”

Volli tilted his head. “Sorry?”

“Terric. What’s the idiot gone and done now?”

Hesitant, Volli didn’t quite know what to say.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? So go on. What trouble’s he into this time?”

“Ah. We’re not here for that. As a matter of fact—”

“We want to hire him,” Odo blurted out.

Volli’s eyes hit him like daggers, and he clammed up.

“As my...colleague said, we’re actually here to hire him.”

Terric’s mother seemed unfazed as she waddled over to what her light revealed to be a bar area, shelves carved into the wall behind it stacked with barrels and bottles of all shapes, colours, and sizes. She set her lantern down.

“I’m Erre,” she said, eyeing him by her lantern’s light. She had to squint to focus. “What kind of work are you in?” Before Volli could answer, she snapped at Odo. “Close the bloody door! You’re letting the heat out.”

“What heat?” Odo retorted, receiving sharp eyes from them both. He sank into himself a touch, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Excuse him,” Volli pleaded. “His mouth runs faster than his mind.”

“Hey...” Odo quietly and defeatedly uttered.

Erre grumbled to herself, words inaudible.

“We’re on a hunt,” Volli explained to her, leaning on the bar. He changed his mind when Erre swatted at him, instead standing straight. “Sorry. We, um. We’re hunters. Your son’s marksmanship comes highly recommended.”

Entirely unsurprised, Erre disappeared below the bar. Volli tried to lean over to see what she was doing, surprised by her close-up face as she reappeared with a handful of mole-fat candles. It was all he could do not to cry out. Erre began to replace the burned-out, mostly melted ones from the bar, where they were mounted on spikes.

“He’s his father to thank for that, rest him,” she said as she worked. “What are you hunting?”

“Ah,” Volli hesitated. “Well...”

She stopped, turning to look at him. “Well?”

“We’re going to kill all the dragons in Auburn,” Odo casually stated.

Volli closed his eyes.

Erre eyed Odo, half-expecting him to crack. For the joke to be short-lived. He just looked at her. “You’re not joking.” She turned to Volli. “He’s not joking, is he?”

With a sigh, Volli shook his head.

“It’s about bloody time someone did something!” she clapped, rattling the candles together as she did so. Her enthusiasm took Volli by surprise, and Odo too, to a lesser extent. “I’ve told Terric many times, his talent’s wasted on moles, tunnellers, gang members... I never wanted him getting involved with all that. My son the dragon slayer, though. That might be everything I need not to die of shame.”

“Right,” Volli replied, not sure what to say. “Do you know when he’ll be here?”

“Soon, I’d imagine,” she shrugged, continuing with the candles. She moved into the room, replacing the candles on each little round table that filled it. “He likes to ‘start early,’ as he says.”

“Start what?” Odo asked.

“Drinking, you pebble. What else?”

He wasn’t quite sure how to feel.

“Would you mind if we waited here for him?” Volli asked. “Only, we’ve other business to tend to.”

Odo looked confused. “Have we?”

Closing his eyes, Volli patiently responded. “Yes. We have.”

“Well no one told me.”

Erre took a lengthy, appraising look at Odo. “He’s not going with you, is he?”

“Of course I am.”

“And are you any use on a hunt?”

Odo mimed using a slingshot. “I can send a plum-seed up the back end of a rat and out its mouth,” he grinned. “With my eyes closed.”

“You’ll need more than a plum-seed to send up the back end of a dragon. And I’d advise you have your eyes open at all times. How do you think my husband died?”

Odo thought about it. “I don’t know.”

Volli covered his face with his hands.

“A dragon, you half-wit!” Erre snapped.

“...Oh.”

“Oh’s right,” she grumbled, turning to Volli. “I’m beginning to think this isn’t a good idea.”

“You’re not the only one,” he replied, hands falling away. “All we ask is that Terric hears our proposal. You’re welcome to listen in if you like.”

The door opened with some force, and a dwarf with bushy brown hair only rivalled by the bushiness of his beard came sauntering in from the corridor. His entrance was somehow ruined when Erre walked up behind him, smacking him over the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“How many times have I told you about slamming that door?!”

“All right, sorry.”

“Terric?” Volli ventured.

He nodded, looking somewhat perplexed as he rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah. Why? Who are you? What have I done now?” He glanced at Odo. “Where’s your beard, boy?”

Odo’s mouth opened, but all he could muster was a wobbly lip.

“Never mind him,” Volli sighed. He gestured to one of the tables. “Shall we? We’ve a proposition for you, if you’ll hear us.”

He shook his head. “I’ve done enough ‘propositions’ this week. I’m flush.”

“For how long?” Erre asked, making her way back towards the bar. “Your dad taught you never to turn down well-paying work. Or did you forget that too?”

“No, I remember. Look how that turned out for him,” he retorted, quite pleased with himself as he turned back to Volli, receiving a well-placed candle to the ear for his trouble. “Ow! Mum!”

Volli sat down calmly. He motioned for Odo to do the same, and he was promptly getting comfortable beside him ere long.

“Sit down and listen to what these nice men have to say.”

“All right! Bloody hell.”

“Mouth!” Erre whispered sharply, wandering to the table with a lit candle. She lit the one in the middle of the table for them before wandering away.

Terric shook his head, pulling a face at the back of his mother before pulling out a chair across from their guests. He fell into it, leaning back and rubbing his ear as he looked at them, one after the other, expectantly. “Well?”

Odo leaned on the table with as much authority as he could garner, hands firmly together, his mannerism confident. “We want to hire you for a job.” Surprised, Volli let him continue. Or tried to. After a brief pause, Odo gestured to him. “Volli?”

Disbelief presented itself on his face before he shook his head. “As he says,” Volli muttered. “You come highly recommended by our...associate.”

“Yeah?” Terric asked. “Who’s that, then?”

“Godnar,” Odo answered, looking distractedly around the room. “Of The Godsforge.”

Terric chuckled. “That bint?”

Odo chuckled too.

“That ‘bint’ recommended you,” Volli continued. “And so we’re here. Will you hear our proposition, or not?”

Equal parts shrugging and nodding, Terric leaned back in his chair.

“Odo and I are...prospectors,” Volli said, thinking better of saying they were scroungers. “On one of our excursions, we came across a few trinkets and, more importantly, some blueprints. One of which outlined a long-lost weapon. A weapon which now sits fully built in the Godsforge.”

Terric frowned. “What is it?”

“The blister,” Odo answered.

“The ballista,” Volli corrected him. He started playing with a chain of silver beads in his moustache. “Supposedly also known as the—”

“Dragonslayer!” Odo said, quite pleased with himself.

After a brief, collected breath, Volli nodded. “Yes. That.”

Terric looked at them in alternation, shrugging and shaking his head. “So... What is it?”

“It’s basically a big crossbow,” Odo casually explained.

“You really know how to sell something, don’t you?” Volli snapped. “It’s essentially a siege weapon, from what documentation we found with it. You can fit it to launch whatever will, well...fit it. In our case, that would be steel-tipped iron bolts the size of lances.”

“And what are we hunting with the thing? Giant moles? Dragons?” he laughed. Odo laughed too, for some reason.

Volli waited. Eventually, the penny dropped, and he smiled as a look of realisation dawned on Terric’s face.

“You can’t be serious.”

“They are!” Erre snapped from somewhere unseen.

A broad, excited grin crossed Terric’s face before he slammed the heel of both clenched fists against the table, rattling the whole thing and knocking over the candle. Odo snatched it up quick, setting back down upright.

“Tell me everything!” Terric raucously demanded. “Good reflexes, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Odo beamed.

As the first word of Volli’s upcoming sentence began to form on his lips, he noticed Erre storming over with a particularly determined if wobbly stride. From the look in her eyes as she stared at her son, and her white-knuckled, clenched fists, what was to follow wouldn’t be pleasant to witness, let alone feel. Odo closed his eyes. Volli squinted. He prepared for what he was going to say afterwards, quite sure they had Terric on-board, if he could survive his mother...