“Gods, she is gorgeous. A summer flower that chose him to grow old besides.”

  The silent night was interwoven with the sounds of their laboured breathing, muffled often by kisses and the sweetest of words. She tasted like honey upon his lips, and every kiss, every taste drew him for more, while their bodies clung tightly to one another, seeking more than just warmth under the covers.

  Her blonde hair, splayed across the pillow, moved like a sea of marigolds with her every attempt to get him closer, deeper. Blue eyes shined like sapphires under the dim moonlight coming from the bedroom window as she gazed upon him lovingly, pushing him on his back so she could take charge.

  The two of them, young and full of desire for one another, chased pleasure in love’s embrace from the late hours of the night until before the sun would rise.

  He felt it welling up inside while her body moved needily, his fingers dry and rough from the cold and work sliding across her body, tracing every line, every curve. He wished never to grow old, knowing time would render him less capable of enjoying her, satisfying her.

  “My love.” His voice was barely a whisper, a warning she took as a challenge to move faster, slamming down on him as her breathing quickened.

  Before the pinnacle of delight, a sound so loud they both thought the sky might have been falling shook the ground and tore through the silence before dawn. Startled, she jumped off of him, covering her body that glistened from the sweat with a blanket.

  “What was that?”

  He knew, jumping to his feet from the bed and rushing to the door, tripping over his pants that were discarded on the floor. The call of the mountain, the sound of dwarven victory over the beasts that besieged their city.

  “Put your clothes on, Atoll! You’ll catch a cold!” Analiz shouted after her husband, groaning in frustration while falling back in bed.

  Wearing nothing but his pants, Atoll swung the front door open and ran outside into the snow, hopping over the fence with ease. The townsfolk were opening the windows, checking outside to see if the end of the world had begun, startled from their sleep by the noise of the distant horn.

  Atoll ran like a madman towards the town chief’s house at the centre of the city, leaping over his fence and over the stairs that led to the chief’s front door, both in a single bound. His fist, clenched, pounded on the front door, Atoll doing devious combos on the thick wood before the door swung open, and he felt the sharp point of a blade just under his chin.

  “Chief, it’s me.”

  “I know it’s you, Atoll. Stop fucking up my door.”

  “You’ve heard it. The dwarves were victorious. They’ve reclaimed the city.”

  The older man grabbed his half-naked neighbour by the shoulder and led him inside from the cold.

  “Yes, I’ve heard. Is that what you’ve come to tell me?”

  “No, sir. I’ve come to ask when we will begin sending workers to deliver supplies to the dwarves until they get back on their feet.” Atoll asked, walking into the dining room and sitting down at a table.

  “Supplies? Why would we do that?” The chief asked, pouring the man a hot cup of tea.

  Atoll looked at him, surprised and confused, not expecting such a question.

  “What do you mean ‘why’? The Dwarves of the mountain have been there for us in our time of need. Many times, actually.”

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  “Hah! I’m just fucking with you.” The older man laughed.

  “We will send them food, what we can spare at least, and workers willingly to go and help them with rebuilding or whatever else they might need, as soon as the sun rises.”

  Atoll smiled goofily, realising the sun had not even dawned yet and, based on the chief’s wardrobe, the older man was clearly not too appreciative of the rude awakening he received, nor Atoll’s abuse of his front door.

  “I’d like to lead the supply group if you’d let me.”

  “I’m not the one you should be asking for permission.”

  “Analiz won’t mind. It’ll only be a week or so.”

  The chief raised an eyebrow and sipped his tea, a bit too loudly, not looking directly at the man but at the fireplace slowly coming to life.

  “You keep putting everything else before her, and it won’t be long before she’s whisked away by some adventurer who fell head over heels for her.”

  “Nonsense. She’s my wife, she wouldn’t just leave me for another.” Atoll dismissed the notion, trying to push the worry aside.

  “Took me saying that three times about three different girls before I learned my lesson.” Replied the chief.

  “My daughter may be a flower, but she has legs, not roots. She can walk away if not loved properly.”

  “But I do love her. I… Alright, I was gone often, working a bit too much recently. Chief, allow me, please, to take her with me then.”

  The old man’s eyes turned to Atoll once more, the man squinting in thought.

  “Very well. If she wishes to go, I’ll allow it.”

  ***

  Sheela walked with Theodus through the city calls, high up stairs of stone to the royal halls above the city. Lanterns were lit as they walked, the entire inside of the mountain coming to life as the dwarves below brought its heart to life. Furnaces grew hotter, powered by the mana crystals, sending heat through the pipes that spread behind walls and in the stone all across the mountain, banishing the cold to the outside.

  The wounded, Solon included, rested in the rooms of the royal halls. Sheela knew there was not much she could do to hasten the process of getting back on his feet. For millennia, from all the spells and power she accumulated, not a single spell she knew could heal someone. Spells would not work on him, but knowing that she was helpless to aid him if spells did work made her frustrated.

  For someone who flew a record-breaking distance after getting thrown, the Warhound was in pretty good shape. Bruises, his mechanical arm gone and a couple of very squeezed ribs. Theodus joked that the man might just be a dwarf that wasn’t screwed over in the height department, as he sure was durable like one.

  “Ye know.” Theodus began as the two climbed the stairs.

  “In hindsight, we should’ve brought more supplies.”

  “Well, why haven’t we?” Replied the witch.

  “Solon and you dwarves ate and drank like you all expected to die here.”

  “Truth be told, we sort of expected to. The war machine working was… well, I’d be lying if I even called it a stretch. And us dwarves take the words ‘Eat like no tomorrow’ quite seriously.”

  “You mean at face value?” She smiled.

  “Quite right.” Laughed the dwarf.

  “What do you plan to do now?” Asked Sheela as the pair finally reached the balcony that overlooked the mountain.

  Theodus grabbed a heavy lever and pulled it, putting his entire back into it. Two massive balloons of air were pressed by slabs of stone, forcing air through tubes into a huge, three-headed horn placed on the balcony. The sound produced shook the mountain, causing snow to fall down the side like an avalanche. It travelled unimaginable distances, through the dawn, signalling dwarves far and wide that their home was freed.

  “Those that fled will begin to return. Within days, the city will begin to repair the damages and will become prosperous again. The folk of the town below might even come, bringing supplies and workers to help.”

  “And what of the trolls that fled?”

  “We will send warriors with blackpowder chargers into the caves. The explosions will seal the cave system shut. Then we will pour molten metal and stone into the hole, sealing it for good.”

  Not knowing what else to say, Sheela patted the dwarf on the shoulder, a gesture she often saw Solon doing, as the two stood at the balcony, watching the sky turn from black to early shades of blue.

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