***
Rhenyon studied the green portal key, turning it over and over in his hand while Pheron and the others admired the new amethyst-colored one, admiring how the many faceted key created little spots of light everywhere.
“If ye could get this key,” Pheron began, “then why did ye need –”
Sarah held up a hand, cutting him off.
“Don’t. Don’t ask. I didn’t know I could get it. Never dawned on me to even try.”
Rhenyon looked up, eyeing Steve first, then Sarah.
“This completes our mission. This is what we came to get, is it not?”
Steve nodded, pointing to the purple key. “We came for that one, but without realizing it, we acquired our old key, which is this one.”
“And both will take ye home?”
Both nodded their heads.
“Their majesties will be most pleased. We can begin our trek home tomorrow. We should be back in the castle in about three days.”
“The trek to the castle?” Sarah sputtered. “Three days? I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to, mister.”
The captain bowed, giving Sarah his trademark sheepish smile. “I stand corrected, milady. With yer help, we will be back in the castle by tomorrow.”
Maelnar emerged from within the council chambers, with the entire Council following closely behind.
“Lads, lass, ye have done the Kla Guur clan a tremendous service. We cannot let ye leave without a proper celebration, as ye have given us much to commemorate. Tonight, we feast in yer honor!”
Without waiting for a response, Maelnar turned and strode off, with the rest of the Council following behind like obedient puppies.
“They sure enjoy their celebrations, do they not?” Rhenyon chuckled. “What is one more? We have feasted to the death of the female guur, to the safety of the tunnels, and to the ancient pact of dwarves and humans. Have I missed any?”
“I believe ye have missed the feast in honor of our bravery,” Pheron answered, chuckling. “That was feast number three, methinks.”
“Aye, right. Forgot that one. My memory escapes me at times.”
“From age or from ale?” Rhein asked, causing the captain to cough up half the ale he had just swallowed.
“Ye have gone soft, sir,” Pheron said, slapping him on the back to help clear his lungs. “Imagine having to have help in defeating those guur. What kind of captain are ye, anyhow?”
“Keep it up, lieutenant, and ye will find yerself mucking out Bredo’s moat before ye can even blink an eye.”
Knowing full well that his captain would never bestow such a chore on him, Pheron grinned.
The dwarves of the Kla Guur clan pulled out all the stops for their celebratory feast that night. The plaza in front of the council chambers had as many tables crammed together as would fit. Temporary hearths had been set up all throughout the city, providing additional light and warmth for those that needed it. Musicians filled the night air with gaily played ditties, encouraging those within hearing range to come dance a jig. The dwarves of the Council were decked out in their finest, displaying various ornamental robes, belts, gilded instruments, and the like.
Steve and Sarah laughed, ate, and danced well into the night. Steve quickly lost count how many times he had recounted their adventures in the depths of the earth. After succumbing to an underling’s request to hear yet again how the female guur had been defeated, Steve departed, leaving Sarah sitting alongside Pheron. With a grin, the lieutenant leaned forward and asked Sarah a question. Smiling, she accepted Pheron’s invitation for a dance, followed closely by invitations from Rhein and Kern. Keeping an eye on her husband, Sarah even managed to pull the reluctant captain out into the center of the square.
“Not a good idea,” Rhenyon protested, staring down at his two left feet. “Ye are apt to get stepped on if ye persist. I am not much of a dancer, and I do not know this tune.”
“Good. I don’t know it, either.”
Rhenyon stared at her for a few moments.
“But ye have been dancing now for nigh half an hour! How can ye do that if ye do not know the music?”
Smiling, she took the captain’s hands. “Here we go. Eyes straight at me. Listen to the beat,” Sarah instructed, leading the hesitant soldier through some basic steps. “No, don’t look at your feet. Keep your eyes on me.”
Finished with his latest bout of storytelling, Steve turned, looking for his wife. He finally spotted her dancing with someone who was clearly way out of his comfort zone. Rhenyon was shuffling along, doing his best to keep up with the fast tempo the song demanded. Suffering sympathetic pains, Steve winced as the captain went to move right, catching his partner unaware, and stepping solidly on her foot.
“Ouch!”
“Many apologies, milady.”
“It’s okay, you’re learning.”
“How did ye learn the steps so fast?”
“It’s something I could always do. I watch and listen, and though my steps might not be exactly right, it’s close enough.”
“Ye are an exquisite dancer, milady.”
Unwilling to wait for the end of the song, Steve deftly cut in, sending a smiling Rhenyon back over to his comrades. Waiting in the wings for the prime opportunity, two of Maelnar’s five daughters approached the now famous soldier, asking politely if he’d honor them with a dance. Throwing his face into neutral, Rhenyon swallowed his surprise and graciously took the hand of the closest female dwarf. If not for the long, braided beard that was tucked into her belt, she might actually be fairly attractive, the captain mused.
The festivities lasted well into the night, with people dropping off to sleep wherever they were, regardless if they were sitting or standing. Apparently dwarves could nod off even if they were standing upright. Maybe this explained her husband, Sarah thought with a giggle. Seeing her husband fall asleep propped up on his elbows, or reading a book, maybe it was because he had some dwarven blood in him. Casting a sidelong glance at Steve, who appeared to be asleep on his feet with eyes partially closed and a lopsided grin on his face, she smiled. She was honestly surprised that he had enough mental prowess left to keep those legs moving.
For the second time in a row, Sarah had to tuck her husband into bed, and also for the second time, he was snoring before she could even remove her shoes.
The Prophecy Page 50