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Melelea feels what I am doing in the dark and reaches down to help me. When my belt is fixed in place, the trolless also reaches down to fix her undergarments, retying the fasteners at the sides and pulling her skirt back down.
When we are both put back together, we lie on the ground under my cloak, sharing the warmth of the heat charm. I pull her against my chest, not feeling settled until I feel her body against mine. Kissing the top of her head, I lay back and fall into dreamless slumber.
✽✽✽
I WAKE WITH a start, my battle instincts going wild. We are not alone.
Starting up with a jolt, I reach and grab my ax with one hand and hit the lumen crystal to my side with the other, lighting up the space. Instantly, I am met with the sight of three stone golems looming over us, pickaxes in hand, just on the other side of the circle of protection. Stone golems are artificial beings created with magic and are mindless except for the task that has been placed on them by their master. I can only think of one reason there would be golems here.
Grazrath has found us.
“Wodred?” Melelea asks blearily, waking with my movement. “What is it?”
“Stay in the circle, Melelea,” I order. “I’ll take care of these.”
I lurch forward, ax at the ready, and dash across the protective circle. With lightning quickness, I swing at the first golem, trying to catch them off guard with my speed. The golem stumbles backward, avoiding the blow. One of its companions swings its pickaxe at me, but I block the blow with my ax and kick out at the third golem, sending it falling unbalanced to the ground. The first golem recovers from its tumble and attacks, a grinding, growling sound escaping its lips, which surprises me. Golems are known for their silence, their facial features just there for show. Still, I block the blow and shift my stance, throwing the stone creature off balance, and swing my ax again. This time, my blade is about to find purchase, breaking off one of its stone limbs, when I hear Melelea’s voice cry out, “Wait! Stop!”
My swing hesitates, hovering right above the golem’s shoulder, her words binding my actions as surely as any spell. The other two golems surge at me, pickaxes at the ready, but I do some quick footwork, bringing myself backwards and back behind the protective circle. As I step across the chalk lines, the golems bounce off the invisible shield.
“What is it, Melelea?” I ask. “Why did you stop me from reducing them to rubble?”
“Look at them, Wodred,” Melelea says, pointing. “They are covered in moss. They are old golems, not anything made by Grazrath. Mining companies in Adrik use golems for dangerous areas. These could have been left behind when the mine was abandoned.”
Silently, my eyes flicker toward the stone creatures and see that she is right. The stone the golems are made from looks worn and covered with lichen. The golems look back at me, a wariness on their features, which is also strange. They almost seem to have emotions.
“Besides, that one made a noise,” Melelea continues. “Golems that have been active for many years can gain consciousness and the ability to speak. If they are as old as I suspect, we can talk to them.”
“Is this true, creature?” I ask the golem closest in front of me. “Do you speak?”
There’s a lengthy silence, then, finally, it does speak, its voice deep like two boulders grinding together. “We can speak. But we will only speak to her.”
I bristle at the demand, but Melelea steps forward, unbothered.
“Of course,” she says, her voice husky and sweet. “I am sorry for the misunderstanding at the beginning of our meeting. I am Melelea Shadowsdottir, and this is Wodred ka Xonok. Can I ask your name?”
Keeping my face impassive, I can’t help but feel incredulous. A golem with a name? I have never heard of such a thing.
But the golem doesn’t hesitate to answer the trolless. “I am Granite. These are my brothers, Basalt and Shale. We are the keepers of the mines. And you are trespassing.”
“We are,” Melelea readily agrees. “We are sorry for that. We had no choice.”
“Did you also have no choice when you collapsed our tunnel and bridge?” Granite grinds out, accusation in his low voice.
“We are being chased. By a demon,” Melelea explains, her voice still steady and kind. She makes a good diplomat. “We had to collapse the tunnels to keep the imps that are hunting us from being able to follow. The bridge’s collapse was an unfortunate consequence.”
The golems exchange a look. “The imps on the mountain are here because of you?”
So they are aware of what is happening on the mountain, on the surface. Melelea must have been correct, and there are other ways out of the mine.
“To be more correct, we are here because the demons are,” Melelea says. “We were hunting their master, an archdemon on Baldric’s Peak, but it turned out to be a trap. The demon wants my magic and lured me here. We barely escaped an avalanche set by his imp minions by entering the mines.”
“What will you do if you leave the mines?” Granite asks, a frown on his features. It truly is strange to see a golem so expressive.
“We will try to complete our quest and vanquish the demon before he can vanquish us,” Meleleaa declares. “We need to rid the world of his evil before it is too late.”
I look sharply at the trolless, but she pays me no heed. I did not know that she still wants to hunt the demon. My wish is to get her off this mountain and as far from Grazrath’s grasp as I can take her. Our plans are in conflict.
“Can you even kill an archdemon?” the golem asks.
