Several loud bangs burst from the wooden door that lead to Welby’s room. It was nearly ten in the morning and if Joran wanted to brew anything with his son before the festivities Welby would have to be up and out of his room in the next few minutes.

“Get up boy! We have to get going!”, Joran demanded through the door.

Welby rolled over with a sever lack of urgency. He let out an audible groan to let his father know he’d be up in a minute. Joran gave his son’s door a final pound and turned down the hall.

“Be in the pub in 15 minutes.”

Welby lazily pushed his legs out of bed. He stretched, yawned and considered dwarves. Did he really understand them? What was that note? Welby’s eyes went wide and rushed around his room, putting on fresh clothes. He had to find Rezon. Welby bolted out of his home, barely getting all of his clothes.

Welby bolted out through the kitchen where his mother was cooking hot cakes. She shouted something at him as he blurred through the kitchen but he was far too distracted to hear her. He did manage to grab a hot cake on his way out though. Even the Pint and Pony was busy with activity. Several men were loading up the great casks of his father’s ale. The festivities would be starting soon.

As he got closer to the center of town he began to notice the activity around him. The whole town was bustling about getting everything ready. Some vendors had already set up stands and he could smell wonderful things that he couldn’t wait to fill his belly with later. Welby new the town well and made quick work of getting around and through it. When he was younger he loved to explore Wellspring. He would explore every street and alley thoroughly. Eventually he had the whole layout of Wellspring memorized. It helped that the town wasn’t very big either. He could direct anyone around town better than any map.  He avoided the main thoroughfares now, with all of the activity they would have only slowed him down and he had important work.

The farm Rezon worked and lived at was just outside of town. Farmer Baeric grew wheat, among other things that Welby’s father used in his brewing. He was their main supplier at least. Baeric farm crept over the hills that surrounded Wellspring. The farm looked like a gently constructed diorama. The view was actually sort of breathtaking to Welby. Nestled in these hills  was a quaint farmhouse, a respectably sized barn and grain silo, and a small cabin.There were three field laid out around the farm. Two wheat and a third that changed crops every few years. It was cabbage at the moment. One of the wheat fields was currently empty, that meant the silo would be quite full. The other was full of young wheat plants, that would be ripe right before winter. The farming life had never interested Welby so he actually had never visited before. He assumed the small cabin would be Rezon’s quarters and he raced to the door. Welby excitedly approached the cabin and gave a slight knock to its door. He could not wait to find out about the note.

“Rezon! It’s Welby, can I come in?”

The cabin was small by most standards, more of a shack really. Solid stone walls, a simple wooden door, a couple of windows and just the idea of chimney coming out of the roof were all that made up the home. Welby knocked again.

“Com on Rezon, I want to talk, it’s Welby!” Still no answer.

Welby decided then to be more bold than he usually was. He turned the knob and carefully opened the door, just a crack at first. Just enough to peer inside. He saw a bed and some furniture, it looked inviting so he decided to push all the way through.

“Rezon?” Welby humbly inquired. There was no answer and the cabin was vacant. Upon more than just a cursory glance around Welby became dumbstruck to a child like mind. Rezon’s quarters seemed more like a very tiny museum rather than a room for a hired farm hand. Among the features there were expected, like a bed and a small hearth, were things Welby had never seen in Wellspring before. The whole building couldn’t be much larger than his own room, yet it was filled with wonder.

At his feet lay the pelt of the largest wolf Welby had ever seen, the head was still attached and bigger than his own chest. Welby could not resist walking in. It made his heart race slightly. On the only table there was a stack of books, an inkwell and a quill, above the hearth of a large sword that looked larger than Welby himself.

It was a gorgeous sword, it wasn’t uncommon for travelers coming through Wellspring to be armed and many stopped in at The Pint and Pony. No one that came in was ever carrying anything this finely crafted or detailed though. The handle was a gold colored metal with a detailed serpent coiled around it. At the base of the blade was an etching that Welby had seen before. A serpent was wrapped around an oak tree with three stars above it. The royal seal of Rejuste, a great kingdom to the east. If Welby were taller he would have considered trying to hold it.

He moved over to the table to inspect the stack of books. What kind of literature did Rezon lose himself in. Welby assumed history books, considering the knowledge Rezon seemingly had at the ready. He took the first book off the stack and studied the cover, it was blank. He began to thumb through the pages. It was a journal. He opened the next one, another journal. It was the same with the entire stack of books. Six journals in all . All of them filled front to back. Rezon had surprisingly good handwriting.

He then saw some things he could reach and he could not help himself. On a short book case were some vials of various liquids, all of which seemed to have a slight glow to them. The first one he picked up was dark blue, very light looking. It moved fast and freely with in its vial. He switched it out for a gold viscous, thick oily vial. The contents slid slowly through the bottle. He replaced it and reached for another. This vial was filled with an impossibly black liquid. It was so dark that light did not travel through it and he could not see through it. It reminded him of a stout his father had once brewed. He shook it vigorously, he could barely tell if it moved.

“I wouldn’t bother with those.”

A voice came from behind him and Welby let out a sound of fright he didn’t realize he could make. He turned around expecting to see Rezon but instead farmer Baeric stood in the doorway. Welby’s heart pounded in his ears.

Farmer Baeric was a tall skinny man, if he tried to enter the cabin he would have to stoop low or pay the consequences. The white hair on his head was pulled tight in a ponytail and his white beard was neatly trimmed. His skin was cracked and tanned from working in the sun for a couple of decades. It had not been kind to his flesh. He was intimidatingly tall to Welby. It would have taken more than two of himself to meet Baeric eye to eye.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Baeric,” he could barely bring himself to look Baeric in the eyes. “I was looking for Rezon.”

“He’s out taking care of a personal matter. He should be at the festival later. You should find him there. IN the meantime I think you should leave his personal effects alone. I understand they can be dangerous.”

“Of  course sir!: Welby put the vial back and moved toward the door.

Farmer Baeric stopped him before moving aside.

“You’re Joran’s son  aren’t you?”

“Yes sir, my name is Welby.” He stammered.

“I hope my wheat is doing him well.” Farmer Baeric stepped out of Welby’s path. “Say hello for me.”

“Will do sir!” Welby did not hesitate when the opportunity to get of out that situation showed itself. Welby took off back to town faster than he could remember traveling before.

Welby found himself back in town in time and it didn’t take long to hear the joyous noises in the air. Music had started and he could hear a crowd of people all enjoying themselves. As he got closer to the occasion what truly grabbed his attention were the smells permeating all around him. Not much made Welby happier than food. The scents of baked goods, roasted meats and sweet treats dominated his senses. His feet took him in the direction his nose and stomach demanded. As the smells got richer the sounds became louder and there was no doubt the festivities were in full swing.

As Welby approached the center of town his pace began to slow. The noise became louder and in turn he became more uncomfortable. Welby both loved and dreaded this day. The energy was always positive and the festivities grand but the crowds and noise was often overwhelming for him. His pace nearly halted when he was close enough to scan the crowd for a familiar face. Despite Wellspring being a small town Welby kept to himself mostly. He wasn’t on very close terms with most of the townspeople. He scanned the crowd and finally noticed the top of the huge cask his family had brought. Instead of pushing through the crowd Welby worked his way around the edge, toward the opposite side.

After he had successfully traversed his away around the crowds he saw the same men that loaded and transported the cask from the pub. They were gathered around enjoying the fruits of their labor. Joran was with them, talking. Sometimes it still surprised Welby the amount of respect his father garnered. These men, who were easily twice his father’s size, treated him like no less of a man. Welby sidled up next to his father and gave him a slight poke with his elbow.

“Hey dad,” Welby gave his father a sly smile.

Having been in mid conversation Joran did not respond to his son’s greeting. That made Welby feel rather uneasy and he silently strode away from the ongoing chat. He spied his mother sitting at a table filled with steins and glasses from their pub. He strolled over to her. Welby helped grow one of the holes where more glasses had presumably been and took a glass for himself.

“Hi, mom how is everything going this morning?” He queried her while filling up his cup with Sun Drenched.

“Where did you go so quickly this morning?”

“Rezon told me he wanted to speak with me today.”

“Your father waited over half an hour before he realized you weren’t going to show up,” his mother frowned at him.

The cup nearly fell from Welby’s hand. His stomach opened up into a cavern that swallowed his heart. The look of pain and shame on his face hurt even his mother.

“Go apologize to him, it’s ok,” she urged him. For as smart as she knew her son to be she also knew that he was supremely absent minded and careless. On more than one occasion those tendencies hurt the ones around him.

Welby slowly trudged back over to his father’s side, still in mid conversation . It didn’t sound like an overly important one. Joran appeared to be just nodding along for the ride. The people he was speaking with were just a couple of the men from Wellspring. Welby had seen them plenty of times in the pub but couldn’t recall their names at the moment. They were just going on about the turmoil of their day to day. Joran, like a good bartender, just listened. Welby had noticed, from being at the pub, that most people just wanted a drink and and ear. Eventually the conversation ended and the bemoaners walked away and Welby was left awkwardly alone with his father.

“I’m really sorry about this morning dad.”

“It’s ok Welby, we can do it another time.” Joran put a hand on his son’s shoulder and gave it a little ‘there there’ squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Rezon wanted to see me this morning and I just ran over the the farm and…” Welby was speaking faster than he was thinking when Joran cut him off.

“Rezon? What did he want?”

Welby stopped mid sentence and he wasn’t sure how to answer. Would it had been better to tell his father about the note or should he have left that detail out? He stared at his father with glassy eyes as he mulled over his choices. After a moment he realized this was taking too long to be natural and Welby just spit out the next thing that came to his mind, which happened to be the truth.

“He was translating something for me. The table of dwarves from yesterday left me a note but it was in dwarven.”

“They left you a note? Why would they do that?”

“I have no clue. I showed Rezon the note and he snatched it from me and told me to meet him today.”

“Did he tell you what it said?” Joran’s face began to grow concerned.

“Well he wasn’t at his shack when I got there. I ran into farmer Baeric though, he said he was out taking care of personal business. He says hello by the way.”: Welby conveniently left out the part where he poke around Rezon’s home. His father was always a little leery of Rezon and Welby thought it best if he didn’t know about the unique items Welby had found in his possession.

“So you’re hoping to find him here?” his dad had a noticeable interest now.

“That’s the idea.” Sweat began to form on Welby’s palms.

“Come get me when you find him. I too would like to know what information a group of dwarves has for you.” With that Joran gave Welby a pat on the back and head back toward the table of cups.

“As soon as he shows up I’ll let you know.” Welby lied.

The day went on pretty much how Welby expected it to. Welby spent much of the day eating, drinking and trying to find Rezon, but mostly eating. It was approaching sic o’clock and the sun was painting everything with a glorious golden color. He started to lose hope that he’d speak with Rezone before the day was through. He surprisingly hadn’t seen the dwarves either. Did they not stay as he assumed they would? The day had grown long, the music was good and the food was better so it was starting not to concern Welby any longer. He had started to let himself slip into his surroundings. As he began to merely exist at the festival a heavy hand closed around his shoulder.

“I understand you came looking for me.”

Welby instantly shook off his lackadaisical haze and did his best to jump to his feet. It took more effort than he expected. He was forced to steady himself on his chair.but he managed to stick a hand out to greet Rezon.

“Rezon, where have you been?”

“I had business to take care off, don’t you worry.” If he was being untruthful Welby couldn’t tell with his current state.

“Fair enough. Now what about that note?! Wait . Not hear I let slip to dad about the note and he wants to talk to you. Can we keep this just you and me for now?” Welby’s speech was a little fast but still comprehensible.

“That’s not necessary. It was a fairly harmless message. Simply put it seems you made an impression on them. They certainly weren’t expecting you to understand them and join the conversation.” Rezon said casually.

“Neither was I.”

“The note seems to be an invitation of sorts. They say if you’re ever in Heiderge to find them.”

“Heiderge? What or where is that?” Welby was amazed by all of this and spectacularly confused. He had never heard of such a place and thought the likeliness of going there was none what so ever.

“It’s a massive dwarven city, underground. The runa blacksmith there called Folded Steel. Here I transcribed the letter for you.” Rezon handed the folded note back to Welby, who immediately opened it and red it for himself.

To the young master at The Pint and Pony in Wellspring.

It was a pleasure being in your establishment, please give our compliments to the cook, and especially the brewmaster. You surprised us with yourmasterful service, considering the crowd. We did not expect you to join in our conversation, but were happy to indulge you. If you’d ever like to hear the story you overheard in full, and are in Heiderge, please find us at Folded Steel, our smithy.

Groondrug Forgeback

“My dad is not going to believe this.” Welby said while still staring into the note, astonished.

“Oh he’ll believe it. He just won’t like it.” Rezon chuckled to himself. He liked Joran but did think he was a bit uptight.

“Hey wait. How did I understand what they were saying when they spoke only dwarven?” Welby had nearly forgotten that he managed to eavesdrop on their conversation. He had been so caught off guard with being invited to god knows where it managed not to cross his mind until he read about it in the note.

“Ah, well that is a little harder to explain.” Rezon reached into his coat pocket and came back with a fist closed around something. When he opened it Welby’s knees weakened and he wallowed harshly. In Rezon’s hand was the small vial from his cabin home, the one filled with the oily gold liquid. It glowed eve more than before in the early evening golden rays.

“This is called an extract.” Rezon displayed the vial holding it between his thumb and middle fingertip on his right hand. “I believe that “beer” you contacted is also an extract.”

“What’s an extract?” Welby looked dumb founded.

“It’s quite literally magic in a bottle. You see, with enough energy and the correct physical components the right person can bottle almost any spell, essentially.”

“I brewed magic, that let me understand dwarves?” Welby was getting more lost with sentence that was designed to explain what happened.

“It would appear that way yes, I imagine it would have worked on more than just dwarves too. You may have stumbled upon things oafishly but you may have uncovered a little hidden talent in yourself. The soot and salt were a dead give away.”

“What about that?” Welby pointed to the vial that Rezon was now fidgeting with.

“This is dragon’s breath,” Welby had to catch himself at this. “Gold dragon’s breath to be specific.” Rezon held the bottle up to his eye appraising it like a jeweler.

“And you made that,” squelched Welby still recovering from the new found knowledge.”

“Not me actually, but a friend. If the person making the extract puts enough energy into it then it can be used by someone other than the crafter. Normally it doesn’t work that way.”

“This is all too much.” Welby collapsed into his chair. His mind raced.

Rezon grabbed the cup, filled it and handed it to Welby.

“This will help. I won’t overload you anymore than I already have.”

“Much appreciated,” he took a long drink, his eyes wide and staring straight forward the whole time. Welby allowed the cool drink to calm his nerves and he took some much needed deep breathes. Rezon planted himself next to Welby and slugged back an ale.

“We’ll talk more later. For now let’s enjoy ourselves.”

The two of them sat and relaxed and some time passed. Joran came along after a while with many questions for the both of them. They were truthful for the most part but still left out the fact that Welby was apparently brewing magic disgusting beer in his room. After Joran seemed satisfied enough he left the two of them be and disappeared into the crowd.

The sun fell further to the Earth and the town was draining the might cask, cup by cup. As night fell basket lights were lit around the square. The festival was lit in soft orange light. The crowd became hushed as the fireworks started. Everyone looked to the sky as a bright sparkling orange light flew high into the air.

Welby noticed Rezon sit up in his seat out of the corner of his eye, both of them had gazes affixed to the orange sparks in the air that seemed to get larger and brighter. Before it could reach the crowd Rezon flipped the tabled and dragged Welby to take cover behind it. Then came the noise. First a great cacophonous boom followed shortly by screams and stampeding feet. Welby could see legs and feet running around him. He could see lights, then he saw nothing.  

Next Chapter: Chapter 3 - Explosions and Escape