Even with the added manpower and horsepower, the effort to remove the Ragabarn carcass and repair the broken fence took just under three days. Luckily, work picked up the pace as there were no more beast attacks to impede progress. The weather has also improved, with the constant on-and-off rains stopping entirely. On the third day, the clouds dissipated and allowed the sun to finally wash over the town. Mirna and Solon got pretty friendly with one another in that time. The elven mage learned of Solon’s encounter and fight against Prince Lymlok and how the elven noble was the one responsible for the Warhound getting teleported across the continent. Solon learned how isolated most elves were, even from their own race. Each kingdom kept to themselves, not engaging with other elven kingdoms unless instructed to do so by the High Elves, whom they viewed as divine beings. The mercenary had no idea High Elves even existed, as he had never encountered one.

  “You know, you reek of dark magic,” Mirna said, standing next to the mercenary as they watched the workers plant the last few logs into the ground to complete the fence repairs.

  “Dark magic? But I can’t use any magic.” He looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “You can’t, true. Your companion, however, can. Seems you’ve spent so much time around her; her mana trace is all over your clothes. I haven’t had a chance to meet her yet, but based on mana alone, is she a dark elf?”

  Solon looked at the mage for a moment before reaching with his good hand and pulling her pointy ear to inspect it.

  “Hmmm, no. Sheela has pointy ears, but they’re not as long as yours.”

  Mirna smacked his hand away, huffing at his audacity to just reach out and grab her delicate ears.

  “I see. So, Desert Folk then. Did you say her name is Sheela?”

  “Yeah. Sheela, Queen of Dunes, is what she likes to call herself.”

  The mage was stunned upon hearing the man speak Sheela’s full title. It could have just been a coincidence, someone naming their child after the ancient desert queen, but Mirna was too curious now; she had to know more.

  “How have you two met?”

  “Oh, well. The portal I was pushed through stranded me in the desert. The only thing I could see, except the sand that stretched for miles, was an old temple. I go inside to escape the heat, and out of the vase came Sheela, like some genie.” Explained the soldier matter-of-factly, as if he was telling a story about going to buy bread in the morning.

  There was no mistaking it; the woman Solon spoke about was indeed the Desert Queen. Mirna stared at him; her usual expressionless look replaced with one of utter disbelief. It was clear that the Warhound had no clue about who Sheela actually was from the way he spoke about their encounter with such a carefree attitude.

  “What? I’m telling you what happened; don’t look at me like that.” The mercenary noticed the look of bewilderment plastered across Mirna’s face, thinking she didn’t find his story true.

  “No, no, I believe you. Everything you said correlates with historical records. I just can’t believe it.” Retorted the elf, not wanting to offend the man.

  “Wait, historical records? You’ve heard of Sheela?”

  “Yes! Ahem, I mean, yes. Yes, I have. Most elves know of her.” Mirna said.

  Solon smiled, walking over to the porch of the farmhouse and sitting on the steps.

  “Alright. Come on, tell me all about it. You have my curiosity.”

  The mage followed, sitting next to him, propping up her staff against the porch steps.

  “Long before dwarves, humans, and other short-lived races were as common as they are now, the world was ruled by two divine races. The High Elves, a race beloved by mana, and the Dark Elves. At that time in history, dwarves were still sucking on stalagmites in their caves and humans lived in mud huts or were nomadic.”

  “Okay, so very long ago, I get you.” Solon nodded, listening intently.

  “During that time, an evil unlike any the world has seen before or since has risen in the form of the Demon Lord.”

  “Wait, pause. So, this world has demons too?”

  “Yes. They are a race just like ogres or dwarves, but they were banished after the Demon Lord was defeated.”

  “Ah, okay, okay. Continue.”

  Mirna cleared her throat with a cough, signalling the continuation of her story.

  “The High Elves and Dark Elves joined forces in an effort to slay the evil. But when it was time to act, the Dark Elves retracted their aid, leaving their allies at the mercy of the demons.”

  Solon listened to the story with fascination.

  “No way. But the Demon Lord was defeated, right?”

  “Yes. However, the cost was incredibly high. The High Elves sacrificed most of their population to defeat him. It wasn’t enough, so they settled on sealing the Demon Lord away and banishing his kin across the oceans.”

  “And the Dark Elves?”

  The elf brushed the hair off her face and looked up at the partially cloudy sky.

  “For their treachery, they were punished. The Goddess was so disgusted by their actions that she cursed them, so that with each generation their resonance grew weaker and weaker.”

  Solon couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer, feeling the story might be starting to drag on a bit. “Sheela isn’t a Dark Elf; that’s what we established. Where does she fit into all of that?”

  “Gods, on this side of the gates or the other, you humans are equally impatient.” Mirna sighed. “To try and escape their curse, the Dark Elves began eloping with the human nomads that inhabited the desert, producing hybrid offsprings which became known as Desert Folk.”

  “Ooohh, I see. So, Sheela is half Dark Elf, half pain in my ass. That explains some things.” The Warhound chuckled to himself, as Mirna did not share his sense of humour.

  “In a way, the plan of the Dark Elves did bear fruit, as the Desert Folk possessed mana levels above any other human, yet their resonance was unaffected by the curse. For a time, their mages could easily rival elven mages, and some, like Sheela, even possessed the power and control of mana that rivalled Great Mages of that era.”

  “Great Mages being…?”

  “High Elves.”

  “Wow, I did not know she was so powerful. I mean, when she blasted me with a spell, it felt like someone throwing sand at me and nothing more.” Solon grinned, remembering his first encounter with the witch.

  Mirna snapped her head to look at him.

  “Blasted you with a spell?! You actually survived a spell from a Great Mage?”

  “Well, yeah. I’ve been told I’m just built different.” He grinned even further, proud to have apparently achieved such an impossible feat.

  “I have to give credit where it’s due. Sheela was probably really weakened from being stuck in that vase for God knows how long.”

  “Yes. Queen Sheela was powerful enough to unite the Desert Folk under one banner and create their first empire. She was adored, but with such power comes ambition. She wanted to expand her domain past the frigid desert.” The elf explained.

  “The human kingdom of Arnell, now lost to time, did not take that lightly, and a war broke out. However, Sheela was powerful, so powerful that when she was defeated, the mages of Arnell couldn’t fully destroy her. Her mana and spirit were imprisoned in one of her temples to grant wishes. They believed an eternity of servitude granting wishes would a perfect punishment for the Queen.”

  “But she would grant twisted wishes, right?” Solon asked, interrupting the elf.

  “Yes. How did you know?” She asked, surprised by his deduction.

  “There was a bunch of stone and gold statues in her chamber that looked pretty unhappy. Plus, on our world, too, genies are known to grant upside down wishes to idiots.” Replied the soldier.

  “Yes, her dark magic was still powerful enough to circumvent the rules of her imprisonment. When granting wishes, she would sap the mana from her victims, adding it to her own. Legends say she would use the bodies of her victims, the staties you saw, to one day create a form that could house the power she was amassing during millennia.”

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  The two looked at each other without another word, only the sounds of hammers beating the fence logs into place echoing across the field before Mirna spoke again.

  “How did she escape? The vase she was trapped in was not something that could be broken.”

  “I saw this in a movie once. A dude wanted to become an all-powerful genie and asked another genie to grant him that wish. When he became a genie, he was immediately bound and imprisoned in a lamp. And the vase Sheela was bound to seemed to work the same way, you know? Made specifically to bind her incorporeal genie form. So I wished for her to assume a form the vase couldn’t imprison.” Solon explained, proud of his genius move.

  “A form the vase couldn’t bind…” Mirna whispered.

  “So, by granting you your wish, she assumed her mortal form, one she had while she was alive.”

  “Correct. And apparently that really screwed her plans up. She always rubs it in my face.”

  The mage thought about what Solon had said. It sounded absolutely insane but not impossible. She nervously trapped a finger on her staff as a thought crossed her mind.

  “What’s a movie?”

  “Oh, uh. It’s a bunch of drawings being switched really, really fast to create the illusion of movement. Something my people have used as entertainment for over a century now.” Solon replied, trying his best to explain in a way she would understand.

  “That sounds pretty odd.” Mirna shared her honest opinion.

  “I gotta ask. Are all Desert Folk as powerful as Sheela?” The soldier wondered, seeing as he did not encounter anyone like his companion in all the time the two spent travelling the desert.

  “No. Not even close. The first generations were truly powerful, but even amongst them, the Dune Queen was an exception. Dark Elves were soon after banished across the oceans along with the Demon Lord’s kin, so Desert Folk mixed and merged with other humans, thinning out the Dark Elf blood in them. Today, they still make exceptional mages; yes, however, they will never reach the heights of power that they had during the historical peak of their race. Most of them don’t even have ears or golden eyes like Queen Sheela does.”

  Mirna was still fascinated by everything the Warhound told her. In all her time wandering the world in search of magic, old and new spells alike, would she ever think that a relic from ancient times would walk the world again. She wanted, needed to know more.

  “What’s her magic like?” The elf asked, ears twitching slightly from excitement.

  “You’re asking a magicless person what magic is like?” Solon couldn’t help but chuckle. Mirna felt her face and ears go red from embarrassment.

  The Warhound added.

  “Even if I could feel it, I wouldn’t know. She barely casts any spells. Something about infusing the desert with her mana and now that connection is severed, so she needs to recuperate.”

  This information made Mirna’s eyes grow wide. The most powerful mortal mage to ever exist had to acclimate to the world she now found herself in. Sheela was practically defenceless, according to what the otherworlder just said.

  “So, if someone wanted to…” The mage mumbled to herself, realizing that if Sheela were to be defeated now, in her weakened state, she would be gone for good. Her ears twitched, and a chill ran through her entire body as the tone of the air around them suddenly shifted.

  “They would die.” Hearing the cold, monotonous tone of Solon’s voice had Mirna reaching for her staff by instinct alone. She looked towards the man, locking eyes with him. The joking, cheerful fellow that sat next to her was no longer there. She was met face to face with a killer no different from the Shimmer Wolves they had fought days prior.

  Solon blinked, breaking eye contact with the elf and like that, the feeling of gut-churning dread disappeared as if carried away by the wind.

  “Sheela is a pretty shrewd woman. I think she’d be able to take care of herself just fine even if I wasn’t there.”

  “Yeah…” Mirna withdrew her hand from the staff, focusing on slowing down her heartbeat. The mage looked ahead to where the workers were talking to the other members of her party, stealing occasional glances at the Warhound, who stared into the sky absentmindedly.

  He was like Sheela, more than he knew. Both faced powerful foes who weren’t able to kill them, merely send them away. The Dune Queen was sent away and imprisoned in her temple, and the Warhound was sent away to the desert as a last-ditch effort by an elven mage who wasn’t powerful enough to kill him. She wondered if it was fate that brought the two together. She wondered if she would be able to do what their foes had failed.

  Mirna smiled, joining the soldier in sky gazing. If the entire kingdom of Arnell failed to destroy Sheela, and if Lymlok the Portal Mage failed to kill Solon, what chances does one free mage like her have? Whatever the odds might be, she wasn’t willing to risk her life to find out.

  ***

  With the sun out, the small town seemed a lot livelier. Despite the cold, people sat outside of inns and the one bakery in town, talking with each other while enjoying their food and drinks.

  Solon walked with Mirna, feeling the coin purse hanging by his belt and the satisfaction that came with having hard-earned money. It was a leisurely stroll, but his mind was occupied by one thing and one thing only. Sheela. Perhaps it was because of all the stories he had heard about her from the elven mage.

  They walked past one of the clothing stores, the only one that sold gear for adventurers in the small town. His eyes fell upon a pair of high boots and a set of clothes that came with them. The Warhound exhaled, noticing how his breath was now visible. Once more, he thought of her. The entire journey here, Sheela was barefoot, wrapped in rags and cloth sewn together by the beastfolk women to keep her warm. But winter was fast approaching, and no doubt the desert witch would not handle it well. She already slept under a mountain of blankets every night.

  “I’m going to stop by this store. I have something I want to check out,” Solon told the mage as he headed towards the shop.

  Mirna followed him inside as the bell above the door jingled to let the owner know they had customers. A blonde woman behind the counter smiled welcomingly at the pair as they walked in.

  “Greetings. How many I help you?” Analiz greeted the pair.

  “I am looking for some good winter clothes for my companion.” Said the Warhound.

  The store owner’s eyes fell on Mirna immediately, already having in mind the outfit for her. Solon quickly caught on and stopped the woman before she started suggesting all the stuff she had for sale.

  “No, no. My companion isn’t with us. This is more of a present.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, it will be harder without her measurements, but I’ll do my best.” Analiz walked over from behind the wooden counter.

  “Did any of the clothes in the window catch your eye?”

  “Yes. This set is particular, though I’m not sure Sheela would fit in it due to her height.” Solon pointed to the set on display.

  “Hmmm, how tall is your companion?” the owner asked, looking at the outfit the man pointed at.

  Before Solon could answer, a familiar booming voice came from behind him, barely forewarned by the bell above the store door.

  “She’s as tall as me. Just a much skinnier.”

  The mercenary turned around, greeting Urga and the other two members of her party before pointing at the ogre to Analiz.

  “Yes, as tall as Urga here. But slender.”

  Analiz folded her arms while thinking. Solon could see the moment a lightbulb went off in the woman’s head.

  “I think I have just the thing. Not so sure about colour variety, though; we don’t get a lot of customers with such a stature.”

  She disappeared into another room and, after some rummaging, came back with a set very similar to the one on display. A pair of black, knee high boots with silver laces, black pants which reminded Solon of winter tights worn by women to keep their legs warm, a long, chestnut brown with silver embroidery on the edges and a thick, lock cloak with fur on the inside. The entire ensemble looked great, and Solon was certain it would fit Sheela snugly. She might not find it as lovely, due to her love for jewellery and very decorated clothes, but beggars can be choosers when they’re freezing their asses off.

  “It’s perfect. I’ll take it.” The soldier moved his cloak aside, grabbing the coin pouch, accidentally revealing his metal arm to the woman.

  “OH! For you, sir, nothing.” Analiz said, already behind the counter and packing the clothes in a large knapsack.

  “What?” Solon was stunned, not knowing what was going on.

  “You’re the one who saved my husband, Atoll, right?” The owner asked.

  It clicked inside Solon’s head that the owner of the shop was the foreman’s wife. He quickly rushed to the counter, coin in hand.

  “Please, I was hired to keep him safe. Of course I did. He already thanked me.”

  “And now you allow ME to thank you as well.” The owner folded and packed the closer faster, pushing away Solon’s good hand every time he tried putting money on the counter.

  “That’s too much gratitude. I was only doing my job. I wouldn’t want to be indebted to you.” Insisted the Warhound.

  “Such a stubborn man you are. Luckily, I am married to an even worse case of stubbornness.” Analiz smiled, wrapping the knapsack closed.

  The two were now locked in a stalemate, the owner wanting to show her gratitude and Solon not wanting to feel like some charity case for just doing what he was paid to do.

  “Oh, for the love of Gods. Just meet each other in the middle. You take the damn clothes and you charge him half the price for it!” Urga groaned behind them, getting annoyed with the constant back and forth between owner and customer.

  Realizing they were both acting pretty silly, Analiz agreed to the party leader’s suggestion.

  “That would be 10 lobaz.”

  Solon assumed what she just said to be the name of the currency the coins were in. He counted ten silver coins before placing them in her palm and closing it into a fist as if to make sure she wouldn’t change her mind.

  “It’s a very lovely set you’ve chosen, I’m sure your companion will be delighted with the gift.” Atoll’s wife smiled warmly as Solon nodded, smiling back and heading for the door.

  “Yeah, she’s one lucky b-“ Mirna elbowed Urga in the thigh before the ogre could finish her sentence.

  “…lady.”

  Outside the store, Solon was informed by the party that they would be leaving town, heading east on another adventure. They asked if he would like to tag along, Urga even offering to allow Sheela to come as well, in hopes that Solon might accept. However, the Warhound declined; his goal was far north, in the kingdom of Vatur, but only Mirna truly knew why.

  They shook hands and parted ways, the adventurers heading to the northern gate of town and Solon heading to the inn he and Sheela were staying at.