With the last of the skeletons destroyed, Gunnolf and his companions stared at the merchant and her pygmy cyclops.

  “Are you alright uh, Reindra right?” Lylen asked as she approached trying to recall her name correctly.

  The red cloaked old woman’s face was visible through her hood as she stood above. Wooden, bark-like flesh, vines around her head twisted like dreadlocks.

  Atzler took notice, “A dryad,” he said in surprise.

  The old woman looked to Lylen, “It’s you. The young lady I traded that ring to. Do you still have it?”

  “Why yes,” Lylen replied as she raised her right hand to show she was wearing it, but she immediately frowned. “Oh no.”

  The ring had a massive crack on it but Reindra piped up, “Let me see it dear. It doesn’t handle magic too well anymore I’m afraid, but I think I can make it better.” Lylen removed the ring and handed it to Reindra who walked to the side of her wagon and opened one of the several compartments and began rummaging. “I’m glad you three came by when you did. My gratitude.”

  Gunnolf seemed uninterested as Reindra was sorting through her belongings. The pygmy cyclops called Klode stared down at Gunnolf with a grin. His arms had minor cuts on them but nothing too serious.

  A voice was heard from the back of the wagon, more masculine than feminine but it tremored with a tinge of fear, “I-is the coast clear, Lady Reindra?”

  Reindra sniffed, “You…you little coward bastard can leave my company at once! I agreed to pay you for protection to the Grand Lift to Listagan but you hid like a sniveling coward!”

  Exiting from a door at the back of the wagon was a young man, somewhere in his early twenties by the look of it and human, standing almost five inches shorter than Gunnolf, dressed in a light green buttoned shirt that spilled past his waist with golden scrolls woven into the shoulders and white stockings and brown shoes. His light brown hair was barely poking out through his wide plumed blue hat with a feather tucked on the right side and a harp was strapped to his back. His face was clean shaven save for a thin mustache that was barely as long as his lips and his eyes were a dark brown with a coppery complexion to his skin.

  “I’ll not pay a single Zoa for this protection you offered me. Take your worthless sack of skin out of my sight!” Reindra barked at him.

  “I’m sorry Lady Reindra, there were so many skeletons, and I am a simple minstrel. Perhaps if it were bandits, I could’ve sent them to sleep with my melodies.” The man raised his hands, “You also hired me as entertainment on your journey! I do apologize for my failure. Bandits though should we encounter them I can charm and convince to leave!”

  Lylen and Atzler exchanged looks with raised eyebrows, “Is this guy serious?” Atzler muttered to his ally.

  Reindra stomped a foot towards him, “Worthless fool, I needed your protection more than your simpleton songs! You promised protection and failed to do your job. These three destroyed those skeletons effortlessly.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it effortlessly,” Atzler chimed in with a nervous chuckle.

  “Either way, Emanon, you’re fired,” the dryad told the human. Reindra returned to her sweet disposition toward Lylen, “I suppose that ring came in handy, yes?”

  “It turned my fire elemental spells white, why?” Lylen asked.

  The dryad woman chuckled, “I’m happy there is still some power left in that old thing. It fuses the element of lumin into your spells whenever undead are the targets of your magic. The undead creatures of the world are weak to lumin since it is the fusion of light and lightning, a gift of elements from the Dragon God, Nidhogg. Then you choosing to cast fire magic caused it to be ‘super effective’ on those old evil bones!” she ended in a chortle.

  The cyclops grunted in annoyance toward the human named Emanon who was still standing nearby. Emanon began slumping away with his belongings while Klode merely stared at his departure to a nearby large rock jutting from the ground. The man sat down and sulked as if trying to figure out what to do.

  “There we are,” Reindra said. She sprinkled some magenta powder on the ring and then used a cloth from doused in oil from a small jar. “It’s not perfect, be sure to not cast more than five fire elemental spells if you can.” She handed the ring back to Lylen.

  Lylen nodded, “That’s ok, casting magic hurts me anyway.”

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  Reindra blinked, confusion written on her wooden face. “Odd, casting magic spells shouldn’t hurt. Only drain your focus and energy.”

  “Sorry, forget I mentioned anything. Do I owe you anything for the repair, Reindra?”

  “Twenty Zoa should do it,” the dryad woman replied and as Lylen went to count out the coins for her, she asked, “Are you by chance afflicted with Aetherscorn?”

  Even Gunnolf raised his head toward them hearing that.

  Lylen’s eyes went wide but then had a solemn look, “It doesn’t matter, there is no cure.”

  Atzler grimaced remembering Lylen’s curse. There has to be a way to cure her.

  Reindra nodded, “Not unless one can find a Diamond of Mirrah.”

  Atzler’s ears twitched as he perked up, “How do we get one of those?!”

  “You don’t,” Gunnolf broke in. “A Diamond of Mirrah is a fabled stone said to be hidden away in the Magress Mountains, guarded by a dragon known as an Icebrand. You’d think if such a thing existed there, the monks of the Sun Temple would’ve found it by now.”

  Lylen’s tone turned sorrowful, “Exactly. There is no cure, only false hope.”

  “All things in this world are possible,” Reindra said. “But it seems you are not in the mood for further discussion on the topic. Would you three by chance be interested in guiding an old woman like myself to the Grand Lift so I may peddle my wares in the High Lands? I’ll be happy to pay each of you two hundred for the security.”

  “The offer is tempting,” Gunnolf chimed in placidly, “However, that is far south from where we are intending on going.”

  “A pity,” replied Reindra. “Either way, I think I am better off without that so-called adventurer. Conflict arises and he hides.” She gave a sigh and then asked, “Would you be interested in any items or wares?”

  “I’m a little curious to see what you have,” Atzler said. The dryad woman opened closed her open cabinet doors and moved on to the lower ones where more of her wares were stashed. Atzler and her began haggling and negotiating prices.

  The man with the strange hat was sitting on a nearby rock with a glum expression as he had his harp in hand, plucking a few strings Lylen wandered over to him.

  “Are you really a coward as she said?” the dark haired elf woman asked.

  The man looked at her, he plucked a couple more chords, “I suppose I am, but music though is my passion, my fervor, and my courage in this rough and unforgiving world.” His playing tempo increased and within seconds he began an enchanting melody.

  “Why don’t you perform at inns and such instead of trying to do bodyguard work?” Lylen asked.

  He didn’t respond as his eyes closed as he drifted into the music he was creating, “Wanderer of the fields, wanderer of the woods. Climber of the mountains, and delver of the valleys. Bringer of the song that empowers us all. Call upon the speaker of heroes, the singer of legends, for I am Emanon, the Minstrel of the Mighty. When hope is gone, Emanon plays on the beat that pulses courage, the melody that bolsters the will to continue on!”

  Lylen stared at him as he plucked the last chord and he looked up at her, “That was a good song,” she admitted. “I feel energetic after that.”

  Emanon smiled, “As you should, that is the power a Minstrel has after all. Bolster and rally their companions through the performing arts. I never caught your name Miss.”

  “Lylen,” she replied, she gestured to the red haired elf, “that’s Atzler and the dark one over there is Gunnolf.”

  Emanon nodded, “I see. I am from Illisea Kingdom, Mahira City really.”

  “What brought you to the Low Lands?” Lylen questioned brushing her hair from her eyes as she looked down.

  He stared at her trying to keep his jaw closed, “I wanted adventure. My, you are striking,” he ended in a low tone of awe.

  “Excuse me?” Lylen said taking a step back, unimpressed.

  “Sorry,” he replied with hands raised, “I don’t mean to cause offense.”

  She crossed her arms, “Being an adventurer is hard work and takes a type of personality I don’t think you have at this time. Your music though could get you work at a town inn or something.”

  Emanon looked to the grass, “If I wanted to perform in an inn, I’d be doing it milady. But monsters show up and I freeze up.”

  Finally, Atzler and Reindra finished their transactions, and the dryad merchant perched herself atop her wagon. “Alright, if that is all, I’d like to reach Illisea Kingdom before nightfall. Let’s go, Klode.” The pygmy cyclops grunted as it pulled the wagon slowly.

  “Thank you again, Reindra. Take care on your journey,” Atzler said before rejoining Gunnolf who had been waiting patiently.

  “It looks like everyone is leaving, would you be alright with the idea if I tagged along?” Emanon asked.

  Lylen was caught off guard as she stuttered. “Surely, you can safely trek back to Parcielle on your own? We’re not going that direction Emanon.”

  “I understand,” he said disparagingly.

  Gunnolf’s right ear twitched upon hearing that. “We must keep going.”

  Lylen looked at the kobold and nodded. “Yes, we are meeting with someone important, and we need to do it alone.”

  Emanon cast his eyes further down before somberly replying, “Nobody wants a minstrel around these days.”

  Gunnolf huffed, “Whatever. Let’s go,” he told the two elves.    “Please don’t leave me here alone,” Emanon pleaded.

  “This is awkward,” Atzler chimed in.

  Gunnolf huffed at Emanon, “You wanted to be an adventurer, right? Figure out how to get to a town. Go west. Lylen, Atzler, let’s go.” Gunnolf strode away leaving everyone behind.

  Lylen and Atzler nodded after exchanging looks. “Right, best of luck to you Emanon,” Lylen said to the man before they gave chase after their kobold companion.