"Hear the story I tell you. I have sought the truth in many villages and I place my axe as a witness that what I am about to tell you has a solid base. They say that, of all the jewels created by elves, this one is unique."
"And it is always true. Except with the Golden Cufflinks. There were two of them. But listen, Irlue," said the dwarf leaning over the wooden table. He wanted to whisper in order to create tension in his story, but the noise in the tavern was too loud, so he shouted in a low voice. "There are many stories about the elf who forged this bracelet. Apparently, he was not the most honest elf, if any of those disgusting beardless ever was. Altruism was not one of his virtues either. He lived in a time tough for his kind and, in order to feed, he rented his conscience and his ability with gemstones. He always hid his name, so the stories intermingle, but he was recognised by his emblem, the Herschel Star.”
“Alright, I get the idea. A great elf with the name and the conscience of an orc forged this wonder. But stop talking about the jeweller and talk about his work.”
“No! Herschel is the name of a star with a special brightness that he used as his symbol, not his name. Pay attention! But it is not any jewel, Irlue. It is the bracelet with capital letters.”
Irlue bit his lip with impatience.
“I am talking about the Bracelet of Arcane Rubies Considered Enthralling by the Lineage of Eternal Taciturnity.”
“That would be the B.A.R.C.E.L.E.T., Kur. You swapped two letters.
“Petty details. It is its power that is capital, Irlue. Its power!”
“According to those whining dishevelled people. What does it do then?”
"Well… Magic, that’s for sure. Lightning, explosions… and some stories mention something related to time, but it's not clear between so many hearsays. But it's unmistakably unique!"
“You are beginning to repeat yourself, little guy.”
“Come on, Irlue. Come with me. I need a wizard to get it. The rubies are protected by a cursed troupe; the spirits of men damned by elvish sorcerers. You can only see them next to the temple in the Dicra Beech after the sunset on the autumn equinox, bearing a torch that lights like the night in hell.”
“I couldn’t expect less.”
“Elvish magic, Irlue. Even if you are a human, you were raised by elves. I need you."
“Alright. After all, I dislike those stiffs almost as much as you do. But only if the next round is on you.”
“Innkeeper! Another wine jug for my short bearded friend and me!”
Maybe dwarfs nicknamed Kur as Saffron because of his hair. But it was not the word that Irlue would have picked. To a human eye, the shade of his hair was as deep as the caves where he grew up. Even deeper than the beech leaves dyed by the autumn that fought to hold one more day attached to the tree where they sprouted. Kur scratched his beard and looked at his partner.
“That’s the temple.”
"That ruin? It's just a bunch of piled stones. It doesn't have even a tiny bit of glass on his windows."
"It's an old story, alright? Almost as old as you. And people run away from curses and superstition, so, who would be the one to fix an abandoned place? Come on, let’s go inside to eat something before it gets dark.
Irlue snorted, but he got inside the supposed temple. Inside it, Kur piled up some sticks.
“Go on, fire them. It’s cold and there’s still time until midnight.”
“Pass me the tinderbox.”
“I didn’t bring it. You’re a wizard. Do magic!”
"I haven't drunk anything in hours! I'm soberer than an elf lady!"
“Then take out the wineskin, my friend. And while we’re at it, share a bit of that burgundy.”
“No sharing. If we run out of wine, we run out of magic. And we are needing it to get the B.A.R.C.E.L.E.T.”
“You disgusting troll puke. I wish they read you poetry until you like it!”
“It’s for the common good, little one, don’t get mad.”
Irlue drank from the wineskin until he felt a little tipsy. Just enough to fire the tinder. After that, because it was a good wine, he kept drinking until he didn't care about sharing it and recognising he had more than one wineskin. He took some cherries out too.
“You lettuce eater!” said Kur throwing them to his face and taking out his own package from his satchel. “Try this. It’s authentic marinated orc tenderloin.”
Irlue tried to show a disgusted face, but due to his drunkenness, he didn’t do it very well.
“What’s with the face? All day eating pork... it’s very similar. Maybe a bit more intense. Who would say there was something good in an orc, right? Here, take it with some bread.”
“Ah, no! Not that! If I eat some of your dwarf bread I will sober up in a moment and I need the intoxication to face the Troupe.”
And he took a sip from the wineskin.
Hours and alcohol run along together, sleepiness stalked the two adventurers when a roar startled them.
“What... hic... was that?” whispered Irlue.
“Someone broke the windows.”
“Impossible, Kur. The only glass in this temple is in my wineskin.”
The dwarf looked at the wineskin made of goatskin.
"Don't tell me it didn't sound like broken glass."
Irlue kept silent and woke up with effort and concentration. He would like to think that after that, he walked in a straight line until he saw a blaze. He crouched to observe behind a small, half demolished wall.
“Respect the sacred ground!” shouted a ringing voice that made Kur stand up. Nervous, in case it was accusing him, he shook off the breadcrumbs from his beard and approached his friend.
“Have I drunk too much or do you also see a glistening priest?” asked Irlue.
“I see that the priest is not alone.”
Both closed their eyes tightly and focused their sight again without leaving the cover of the small wall. Indeed, a few steps from them, there was a glistening and translucent priest. Behind him, a woman just as intangible, and in front of them, someone dressed for battle and with pointy ears. At his feet, several shining splinters that they guessed were the lost windows.
"We do not recognize your faith, humans," said the pointy-eared ghost. "However, the woman you hide made a promise that she must fulfil. Let her give us what she owes unless she'd rather us have it by ourselves."
“No, father!” prayed the woman caressing her belly.
“You have no moral!” shouted the priest protecting the woman.
“We do. But it’s not one we share with you.”
The elf drew his sword and, with the next movement, the scene shined in a new colour. Now Irlue understood why Kur had described it like "the night in hell". More priests and what looked like altar boys emerged on the scene to help his fallen colleague. What happened then is not something that requires a description. Suffice it to say that both adventurers preferred not to focus on the details and keep the colour association with that of the wine that filled their bellies instead of the fluid splattering around them.
Finally, the noise calmed down and they dared to look again. The bodies dissolved in fog shreds, blurring the room. A moment later, the fog had relocated forming a new scene. A troupe of chained priests guided a tall elf. He was carrying a baby on his left arm and a cane on his right. On his wrist, a bracelet of rubies shined.
“There it is!” smiled Kur.
The troupe exited the temple ignorant of being followed.
“Hey, you, beardless! Where are you going with that beautiful wristband?”
“Shhhh... he’s going to hear you," whispered Irlue.
As he predicted, Kur’s voice got beyond the solid world and the elf turned around. The priests were curious and, even though they had not been called, turned around too. They all saw a human and a dwarf trying to keep the verticality by leaning on the entrance to the abandoned temple.
“Where we are going is none of your business,” answered with a reverberated voice even though they were already outside.
“You’re wrong, lanky. See... hic... those there are friends of mine.”
The priests looked at one another in astonishment. The dwarf nudged his colleague. He startled and looked around.
“The chains,” whispered Kur.
Irlue showed understanding on his face and stooped down. The elf began talking, but enemies always have a boring conversation. Ignoring him, he picked up a little branch from the floor and rose up again with unexpected balance. He muttered a few words and cracked the branch. The priests' chains exploded into a mist. The ex-prisoners smiled.
“Thank you for closing the circle, Irlue,” said one of them while disappearing.
“Wait... What? How do you...?” but they were not there any more.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” said the elf. He rested the baby on the air and it disappeared as if he was given to someone invisible.
He pointed his cane towards the wizard and cast a beam with all his hate. Kur jumped with his axe in front and reflected the beam, which hit a bush and set it on fire. If the scene had looked like a night in hell, the only missing part was the fire.
“Thanks... hic... little one,” said Irlue with eyes wide open.
The dwarf jumped towards the elf and Irlue had another sip of wine. The spirit of the elf let him come close and, when Kur tried to hit him, the axe went through him as... well... as if he was a spirit. Kur, filled with the fury of the battle, hit once and again while the elf laughed. Irlue took a handful of mud from the ground and shaped it. Then he muttered a few words and threw it on the burning bush. He made a gesture with his arm and a lot of translucent armadillos arose from the flames and attacked the elf.
Kur, seeing him surrounded with no understanding of what was happening, turned himself towards his friend.
“Armadillos?”
“They are interesting creatures. Hic! Don’t you love when they turn into balls?”
“Yes, but can’t you come up with something more useful?
Irlue scratched his beard before answering.
"Throw your axe into the bush.”
“What? Hic! Are you drunk?”
“Of course! That’s why you need to throw it.”
“This axe was forged by dwarf hands in the bowels of the mountains that—“
“For your mother’s beard! Throw the axe!”
Kurt threw it reluctantly and the wizard muttered more words while shaking his fingers.
“You can take it now.”
“It’ll burn.”
“No, hic... Take it.”
The dwarf doubted but he took it. He rose an axe as translucent as the armadillos that the elf was about to get rid of.
“Now, hit with your axe!”
Kur charged again and cut an arm that flew away gripping the last armadillo with its hand. The spirit’s scream was more filled with rage than pain, but neither Kur nor Irlue minded it. They were looking at the bracelet of rubies. Irlue made a run for it while the dwarf played around with his axe and the one-armed. He picked up the hand and pulled out the bracelet without flexing its thumb. It was easier through the other side.
The moment he held it, he felt a burning sensation and threw it away with a shriek. The elf laughed while he vanished.
“Ha! You are drunken and only a teetotaller can carry the bracelet. It seems that the baby will still be ours in the end.”
“The baby? You didn’t say anything about a baby, Kur!”
“I didn’t know. But we should save him, shouldn’t we? If we cannot take the rubies, we shall at least recover the creature.”
“I don’t like babies. I don’t like the trouble you get me into. Hic...” he sighed, “let’s try it.”
Irlue had another sip of wine and began to amass the mud again. After throwing it into the fire and muttering something, a hound came out of the bushes.
“A dog?”
“Indeed! To find him. Look for the baby, Spotty! Look for him!”
The dog sniffed around and vanished. Kur looked at his partner with his eyes wide open.
“And after... Spotty... finds the kid, then what?”
“You’re right. Hic.”
More mud and more muttering. Four dogs pulling a crib on sledges appeared and disappeared the same way. After a reasonable pause, Kur spoke again.
"They're elves. I don't know. I miss some sharp objects in your plan."
Irlue nodded with his whole body for several seconds, but to avoid any doubt about his drunkenness, he drank some more wine. Mud, muttering and a few floating axes and swords followed the dogs.
“No one holding them?”
A herd of elephants followed the axes.
“Elefants... hic... do not have hands.”
A squadron of skeletons disappeared after the elephants. The dwarf contemplated the emptiness for several seconds after opening his mouth again.
"I shall recognise that I would like to see the elves reacting to all of this.”
“Woof!”
Spotty had reappeared and looked like he was requiring them on the other side.
“Let’s go after them!”, shouted Kur throwing himself over the fire.
Irlue didn’t mutter. Instead, he chuckled while the dwarf jumped around and rolled against the floor to put off the flames. After succeeding, he gazed at him.
“Burning is not a good idea to change planes.”
“You could’ve said that before. How do we do it?”
“We could use the rubies but we’re... hic... too drunk.”
“But not enough to puke it out.”
“Agreed. And it would be a waste.”
“Do you have coffee?”
“No. Just the cherries that you didn’t let me eat before.”
The dwarf’s face was the response.
“Then?”
“We need something to pull from us.”
Both looked at Spotty.
“Got it” Take the rope from the satchel. We’ll burn half of it!”
Thanks to the wizard's muttering, they got a rope that was half palpable, half evaporated and they knotted the working end to the dog.
“Go get’em!”