“I’ve attempted everything. I’ve crafted many a weapon, old friends. Perhaps in other hands, they might prevail, but not in mine. I have tied much of my own power into the compact. I know of no aid I can offer. There is the daughter of the timeborn to consider as well. It would not do to simply leave her.” Siegyrd huffed in his dragon form sending a thick fog filled with snow lily sent throughout the gallery.

  The tall thin man with the stringy beard squatted on his haunches as he spoke, “Hmmm mmm, hm hm hm. Ashwarden called and all, no good for.”

  The shorter man cleared his throat, standing over his squatting companion in mock regal posture, “Orders is orders, so says ‘em, and what, right E?”

  “V”

  “What can I do ya for?”

  The squatting man slapped a palm to his face, then looked back at Siegyrd, “Don’t kiss the messenger and what all. You’re, how many years?”

  “Oh, he’s ooooold.” The shorter man chuckled, and the taller man stood from his squat and slapped him upside the head.

  “Nah, gone he was, not age, but deserted we thought, like them others or mad-crazed driven.”

  “Master knew.”

  “Master always knows.”

  Siegyrd cleared his giant throat with a growl that sent shocks through the whole cavern. The two men shuddered and stood up straight, the shorter one visibly attempting to hide his trembling and the taller trying not to fall for fear.

  “He’s gone mad!”

  “Nope, is mad.”

  “Well get to it, E!”

  “I’m… nevermind.” The taller man looked at Siegyrd and said, “Is who you need, we need. Erm, he needs? Thandravok.” The man snapped his finger and pointed upward, his face bright.

  Siegyrd clenched his teeth which produced a sound like a portcullis gate grinding armoured men as more icewhite fog poured from his mouth. The two men quailed backward, huddling together, the shorter man trying to climb the taller to the sound of muttered ramblings.

  Siegyrd stood to fill the cavern with his bulk, then closed his eyes. He breathed slowly and transformed into his human form. He strode down the pile of treasures and stooped to palm a golden Tivaeri coin on his way. The two men paused. The shorter hung from the taller leaning against his weight in opposing disequilibrium. The two swayed precariously as if the flap of a butterfly’s wings would sweep them into oblivion.

  Siegyrd started to speak, his voice angry, “Brothers,” he squeezed the coin and breathed again, calming his voice, “Brothers, what say you to a simple game?” Siegyrd held up the gold coin between his first and second finger.

  “What luck!”

  “Who? Where?”

  The shorter released the taller, and the delicate balance of their position shattered into the vacuum of empty space, scrambling arms, and two unceremonious falls. Though Siegyrd had never heard the tongue they used, the loud, exasperated expressions firing off like birds striking windowpanes in the crystal city blasted away any doubt they were cursing. It was many measures before the men collected the scattered pieces of their pride and turned back to face Siegyrd.

  The taller spoke, slapping the shorter man’s hand away as it reached for his. “Right, coins, and games and whatnots and whosa thingies. A game, a play!”

  “To play! I love a good play.”

  “Not that kind.”

  Siegyrd cleared his throat, and the two stood to attention, both striking their chests in odd salute as they said in unison, “Saer!”

  He turned the coin in his hand showing one side with an engraving of seven stars, “Stars,” he said, then turned the coin the other direction revealing a stamped sickle moon, “or moon. Call it in the air.”

  Each man kept his respective salute and nodded his head like a chicken on a stroll.

  Siegyrd laid the coin on his thumb, paused a moment, then flicked it high enough to almost reach the ceiling a hundred paces above and said, “Where is the need most dire?”

  The two men paused in mid speech, each trying to simultaneously answer the question and call the coin flip. Their mouths lolled, and their eyes bulged. Only odd groans escaped from each.

  Siegyrd said, “Stars.”

  The brothers dropped their salutes and watched the coin all the way down until it reached Siegyrd’s upturned palm. He turned it onto the back of his other hand, leaving it covered.

  “Come on show us.”

  “It’s moons, sure of it I am.”

  “Moon, and all.”

  Siegyrd spoke calmly, keeping his hand atop the coin, “First, my question.”

  “I say yes! Love a good game!”

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  The short man slapped the tall man in the rump sharply and spoke, “Wrong question!”

  “Not nice to Old Frosty, he’s doin’ his best.”

  “All things considered,”

  “Have you? Well a miracle at hand?” He looked at Siegyrd’s hands and jumped, “The coin! What’s it?”

  Siegyrd shook his head and said again, “Where is the need most dire?”

  The tall man swayed back and forth closing his eyes, twisting and rolling his head like a man in the throes of a great song, “Songslayer comes, where, hasn’t been told.”

  The shorter man took a half step forward, eyeing Siegyrd’s hand, “nor when, but in between, can help. Ashwarden can help with Wrothmaul.”

  The tall man began to list side to side in a more dramatic fashion, from one foot to the other, “Where Thandravok rests, Thandravok wakes.” The man snapped his eyes open and shouted, “Its stars! I’ll bet half my life!”

  “Hey!” The shorter man said with a pained expression.

  Siegyrd laughed and lifted his hand to reveal that the coin was gone.

  Both men shouted in unison, their voices merging to sound almost childlike and young, “No fair!” A shifting aura of faint red-gold bloomed around the men who stamped and writhed next to one another and then the eyes of the tall man hollowed to darkness, while the shorter man’s eyes cast sunlight rays of white. The light and shadow merged in a raucous display accompanied by a pulsating, growing thrum that ended in a blinding flash.

  Siegyrd shielded his eyes, blinked, then looked back.

  A boy with black and gold and silver hair and duochroma eyes – one platinum, the other ruby red – stood clapping his small hands and stomping his feet speaking with two voices as one, “no no no no fair!”

  He looked up and pointed at Siegyrd with a sharp finger and sharper eyes, pulling his brows together, “Cheater! That’s no way to play!”

  Siegyrd laughed and crouched down so he was eye-level with the angry boy before he spoke, “Is that any way to speak to your uncle Siegyrd, Felix?”

  The boy narrowed his eyes and slowly lowered his hand. As he did so, Siegyrd reached out and pat the boy on the head, placing the coin in his hair.

  Felix immediately popped both hands up to capture the coin, as if it would whiz away like a lightning bug. He smiled until his ears wiggled as he held his head, tracing one finger across the top of the coin. “Stars!”

  Siegyrd laughed again and turned away as the boy pulled the coin down from his head and bit it between his teeth, satisfied with the slight impression, “Uber great uncle. Wait.” He paused and scrunched his child face again then continued, “Felix is older than you!”

  “True enough, true enough. Alright then, Uncle Felix, any chance you’d do your dear nephew a favor?” Siegyrd moved toward the portal wall and waved a hand to beckon the boy after him.

  Felix twiddled the coin between his fingers, knuckle over knuckle as he followed, “There’s always a chance Felix will help, if there’s play in it.”

  “She might enjoy some play, Uncle Felix, and I’ll lay a wager with you.”

  “Ooo there’s play! I wager it’ll be fun!”

  #

  Gudrun heard a series of light knocks on her chamber door. She swallowed hard, trying to control her breathing, her face buried in her hands. A war raged between delight and dismay, flight fading into memory of loss.

  A few more knocks carried through the door, elevated by the percussion of concern.

  The fireplace next to her roared with cackling delight, and her face was flush.

  “I’ll be right there.” Gudrun’s voice cracked, and she rubbed her eyes and face. She stood and ran her fingers through her hair on one side in quick succession, taming the stray waves of it. She crossed the stone floor to the doorway, paused to breathe, and then opened the door, flashing a smile that did not reach her eyes.

  Siegyrd was looking down at Felix when the door opened, and the boy pointed and yelled, “She’s not a player, look at her.” The boy stepped forward, half into the door and jumped up so he was eye-level with Gudrun who took a step back and glanced away.

  Felix hovered kicking his feet beneath him like a swimmer and little puffs of strong wind held him there as he pushed a little finger into Gudrun’s cheek, “Tears are no fun! We should play!”

  Siegyrd grasped the boy by his collar and ripped him from the air with a loud popping sound, “Felix, hardly kind.” Siegyrd glanced at Gudrun whose brow was lowered and lips pursed.

  The boy twisted in Siegyrd’s grip and slipped out of his shirt, falling to the ground and rolling away into a low stance like a cat next to Gudrun who stepped to the side. He stuck his tongue out and wiggled his fingers next to his head, “Too cold Old Frosty, play is warmth!”

  The child looked up at Gudrun and flashed a dazzling smile that closed his eyes completely, and then reached out and took her hand, pulling her into a partial hunch as he shook it, “Felix is the name, games are the game, and joy and fun and play play play!” He released her hand and she nodded to him.

  “I’m Gudrun, um, it’s,” she resisted the polite lie and finished with a simple, “hello.”

  Felix jumped again and spoke, and let himself fall to the floor between words before jumping again, “You. Don’t. Look. Like. Her!”

  “Like who?”

  Siegyrd spoke, his voice taking on an imperious air, “Felix.”

  The boy stopped bouncing, landed on the stone floor and turned, his head somewhat down, eyes looking up through gaps in his silver, black-gold hair.

  “Our wager? Please sit.” He motioned to a nearby couch.

  Felix half-jumped, tucked his legs crosswise under him and landed on the floor with a little bounce and set his hands on his knees.

  Gudrun laughed, a small thing, but enough. Felix’s eyes shot up to her and he smiled again, “She might be fun!”

  Siegyrd entered the room and addressed Gudrun, “Felix is a friend.”

  “Uncle, Felix is an uncle.”

  Siegyrd chuckled, and agreed, “Yes, my very old uncle, and a friend.”

  “Not that old!”

  Gudrun looked from Siegyrd to the boy and back to Siegyrd, “okay?”

  “Now, to the wager.”

  Felix leaned forward across his legs and put his elbows on the ground, resting his chin in his hands, “Go on.”

  “I wager, you can’t teach Gudrun the meaning of play before I return from my ordered mission.”

  Gudrun raised any eyebrow, “What? Where are you going?”

  Felix pinched his face together but said nothing.

  Siegyrd spoke to Gudrun, “First to scout, far to the south, and then, then I am not sure. I will return before any longer departure.”

  “How long for?” Felix voice was twinged with anticipation.

  “Perhaps a week.”

  The boy threw himself backwards and laid on his back looking up at the high stone ceiling above and kicked his feet lazily humming to himself.

  Gudrun spoke, “You could take me with you.”

  “I’ll do it! What’re the stakes!” Felix sat up, shouting louder than was strictly needed.

  Gudrun hissed, “Rude little boy. Siegyrd, please.”

  Siegyrd beckoned for Gudrun to come close and took her hand in his, whispering softly, “Daughter of the mountains and winds, I do not know what dangers I go to. Have you the courage of waiting?”

  “With him?” She turned her head and shifted her eyes uncomfortably.

  Siegyrd smiled, “Felix is of the same order as I. Are you still so fooled by forms? Some reveal and some conceal. I have not spoken of my duties, but he and I are comrades. He may try your patience, but he will ward you from harm. A week, perhaps a tenday maximum, but I will endeavor to return sooner.”

  Felix scooted himself along the floor, closer and closer as the two spoke, pausing at intervals and cocking his ear toward them.

  Gudrun shot him a look, and the boy froze like a statue, glassing his eyes toward some distant point and sucking in his cheeks.

  Gudrun looked back into Siegyrd’s eyes and took her opposite hand and gently grabbed his wrist, “Fine. I will endure, but why the wager?”

  Siegyrd squeezed her hand and smiled, “He’s at his best when there’s a game to be had.”