It was nearing the end of another warm spring day. I was fitting Kreshmore with a new ant-thorax armor plate to replace the one he ruined in battle-training practice when he cleared his throat. “Gerwyn the Wise is back in Achten Tan,” he said. “I plan to get my fortune read to find out if I should finally declare my feelings for Tamsenna.”

We were standing in my workshop near the armory, which was filled with the metallic odor of soldering tools. The door was propped open so we could get something of a breeze from the desert wind, but it was still warm. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about love, so I thought it was strange that Kreshmore, a half-orc, would suddenly display softer emotions.

Half-orcs would sooner chop your head off than make declarations of love. Kreshmore, a seasoned fighter who was well over six feet tall with long, jet black hair, thick eyebrows above obsidian black eyes, a strong nose, full lips, a chiseled jaw, and a well-formed body full of story-worthy scars, surprised me by being enthralled with the elven beauty, Tamsenna, Achten Tan’s new head archer.

Tamsenna also happened to be my cousin, on my mother’s elven heritage side. Other than my being shorter than Tamsenna, my cousin and I could pass as sisters: we had the same long flaxen hair, dainty elven ears, emerald green eyes, the same lithe and athletic figure. She was full elven and graceful, whereas I was half-elf and all grouchy. My dad, who was human, died defending mom’s honor from the Savaalti Elves, a puritanical race of elves who condemned elves who married into other races. After his death, my mom, in a deep state of mourning, wandered into the Darkmere Forest, never to be seen again. I was ten when I moved in with my dad’s brother, my Uncle Rorey, here in Achten Tan, a desert town nestled literally in the bones of a long-deceased gigantic leviathan.

I rolled my eyes at Kreshmore as I finished securing the armor plate to the lower part of his back. Sliding several small tools back into my crosswise torso sash, I stood back and I studied him. Everything he wore was of my creation, from his boots, to his custom-stitched battle breeches, to the brand new armor fitted across his thighs, torso, shoulders, and arms.

“All done,” I announced. “You can do whatever you want, just don’t bust the seams of my armor plating or I’ll send you into battle wearing someone else’s armor.”

“Oh, I’d never do anything to anger you, Willowmere.” There was a mischievous gleam in his onyx eyes as we grabbed our battle-satchels—there was always a threat of outside attacks, so we had to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.

“Anger, no? Irritate, yes,” I said as we climbed out of my cellar workshop and into the desert’s waning sunlight.

Kreshmore and I had been battlemates since we were fifteen and in the two years we’d been partners, I had learnt he had some tricks up his sleeve. As he inspected my repairs, he posed in front of me, flexing his muscles and making goofy expressions. Several of his sparring buddies, headed toward the chow hall, whistled at him.

“Don’t be jealous,” Kreshmore said to their backsides and a laugh escaped my lips. As we followed them to the chow hall, which was near the East Skull entrance in the first Northribs spires, Kreshmore said to me, “I was hoping you’d come with me to Gerwyn’s.”

There was a soft timbre in his tone that sent an odd shiver through me. That was new. “No thanks. She always speaks in riddles.”

“I thought elves were into solving riddles?” He elbowed me in the shoulder. It didn’t help that he was a foot taller than me, so I had to crane my neck to see the smirk on his face. As I thought of at least ten insults I could say in response, I realized we’d passed the chow hall and were standing next to Gerwyn’s bone hut.

“You distracted me on purpose.”

Gerwyn the Wise’s door was made up of strung together finger bone beads that made hollow clacks with the desert wind. The scent of warm jasmine mingled in the air and I could hear her humming before she yelled at us to come inside. The ancient widow’s voice was raspy and touched with impatience.

“Forgive me, Willowmere. I’m a fool in love, remember?”

I quipped, “No, you’re just a fool.”

“Sorry about that, Councilwoman Gerwyn,” he apologized to the elderly widow. “I’m Kre—”

“Already know you. Saw you coming. Sit.”

It was surprisingly cool inside. Dressed in a linen shift,

Gerwyn sat on her haunches. Before her was a darkly stained slab of wood. It held two powdery mounds, one in each corner. An orange powder and a glittery white powder. In the center of the slab was her bone-framed mirror shard. It was one of the most powerful communicators in all of Achten Tan.

I felt its magnetic pull as we sat on floor, our knees touching. The atmosphere was static and the hair on my arm prickled. I felt itchy and wanted to leave.

“We’re here to—” Kreshmore started.

“Already know why. You seek to reveal what is far away and which is almost within reach.” Shaking her head, she clucked her tongue as she took a tiny pinch of the orange powder in one hand and a large pinch of the glittery white powder in the other, and sprinkled them atop the mirror.

She began to chant foreign words as a mist formed from the joined powders, creating a semi-transparent orb that hovered just above the mirror. The orange powder swirled into patterns, first into two stick-like images and then, after a few seconds, they were shaped like two people holding hands. Seconds later, the two figures embraced and kissed before the mist dissolved.

When she looked up, her piercing slate gaze inspected me before settling upon Kreshmore. “True love requires true sacrifice,” she said. “How do you plan to pay?”

I watched in horror as Kreshmore removed a dagger from his belt and placed it before Gerwyn. The blade was crafted from melted down ores and the handle was carved from a larger block of petrified tar-wood.

It was as beautiful as it was deadly and it had been the first piece I was truly proud to have made for him.

“Tonight, journey to the bog, select the finest bonbons, and all will be revealed when you present them to your love,” Gerwyn said.

Kreshmore’s head tilted. “The bog? I’d rather decapitate sand‐wyrms or wrestle the wolves from Darkmere Forest. I’ve been told I’m an excellent wre—”

Gerwyn gave him a withering glare. “Get out of my hut or I’ll curse you.”

“Thank you for your time, Councilwoman.” Grabbing Kreshmore’s tunic, I pulled him out of the hut, and kept pulling all two hundred and fifty pounds of him until we were at the chow hall.

“We should head out now,” he said. “To get an early start.”

“You cannot be serious.” My stomach growled as the final bell for dinner chimed. “When did you last eat?”

“Let’s see.” He tapped his index finger on his chin. “This morning, before sparring practice.”

“You’re not in love, Kreshmore. You’re just hungry. You always feel better after a hearty meal. I’ll give you my gnome cake; they’re too syrupy sweet for my tastes.”

Because he went inside the chow hall without uttering a single complaint, I knew he wasn’t done arguing his case. He was just biding his time.

The wind had picked up and the desert sun was setting into an orange haze when we left the chow hall thirty minutes later. Achten Tan’s citizens were a merry bunch. Cigarette smoke and laughter filled the air. Bawdy singing erupted from Old Crawman’s rib joint. Sentries, riding giant ants, made their routine patrols while children of all ages and races sped about, their footprints making tiny divots in the sand.

I was about to wish him a good night and climb the spiral staircase up the bone spire that led to my uncle’s dwelling, but Kreshmore said, “I’ll just go to the bog without you, Willowmere.”

I shook my head. “Gerwyn told you what you wanted to hear, and she got a valuable dagger in the process.”

His quest had nothing to do with me. Kreshmore was my battlemate and we spent a good deal of time together. Wherever Achten Tan sent its soldiers, the armor specialists accompanied their partners, which meant when Kreshmore came back to camp with broken armor, torn clothes, or busted weaponry, I fixed it. Our partnership was forged as much by trust and respect as it was by thorax armor and metal.

“I’ll play dirty.” Shadows played on his face. “I’ll ask another armor specialist to go with me, instead.”

I’d never live it down if anyone found out I didn’t accompany Kreshmore on a mission outside of Achten Tan.

Defeated, I capitulated. “You owe me big time for this.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

No one questioned us as we walked through one of Achten Tan’s tarmoat checkpoints, traveling southwest.

The sun had already sunk below the horizon and far off mountains framed the landscape as desert dunes rose up and flattened with the constant wind. Sinewy rabbits bolted from behind bushes and the caw of soaring birds serenaded the night sky. The temperature began to cool and stars winked into existence as the lights from Achten Tan receded.

“I’ve always liked that star,” Kreshmore said. We’d been walking in silence for some time when, as we stood at the top of a steep dune, he pointed toward a golden haloed star in the western sky. “The star’s golden hue is beautiful, like my ladylove’s golden hair. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Glancing at me, he seemed to want a reaction. “If you say so. Let’s keep moving.”

Orcs and elves have excellent night vision, so it wasn’t difficult to see, in the distance, the outline of the bog’s abandoned tower that once belonged to C’Naga, the legendary worm-wizard who may have been more myth than fact. We could also hear the growls of the bog’s patrolling guardians, the Boggoliz; large creatures but mostly harmless as long as you didn’t confuse them. If you did, it enraged them, and they’d trample anyone nearby.

If Kreshmore kept waxing poetically about my cousin, I might trample him myself.

“And what of her eyes, Willowmere?” he asked as we crested the next dune. After the next ridge we’d reach the outskirts of the bog. “Do you find her eyes as entrancing as I do? Are they green, like the bright moss-covered boulders at Everfall’s waterfall, or would you consider them more like gemstones? Twin emeralds, perhaps?”

I wasn’t sure why, but my insides felt like hot metal. “When we get back,” I said tightly, “we should ask the healer to check to see if you’ve been poisoned.”

I’ve seen Kreshmore’s destroying side, his training side, and his humorous side. I’ve even seen all his naked sides as I ran a tape measure every which way. But I don’t think I’d ever seen this side of him—the besotted fool side.

Kreshmore must have known the direction of my thoughts. “I’m not all orc. My mother is human, you know.”

I jerked my head in his direction. His black hair flew in the wind and his dark eyes were like mini night sky orbs. “I’m not an idiot, Kreshmore. Your mother is one of the kindest women I know.”

Looking heavenward, he murmured with a sigh, “I thought this would be easier,” before skidding down the unsteady sand.

I wanted to ask him why he thought it’d be okay to barter away the dagger I made for him, especially to win the affections of my cousin, but it didn’t feel like the right time. He avoided eye contact as we covered the last of the desert’s dunes.

The sand began to mix with sprouting green reeds and we were bathed in wafts of warm, rotten-smelling breezes. Algae-covered boulders littered this part of the landscape and every once in a while, the lonesome warble of some bog bird called out for a mate. Boggoliz grunts echoed from the far side of the bog while the gurgle of water sloshed against the edge. The bog’s music was a commingling of cheeps, peeps, and warbles, as well as our slurping footsteps.

“What are we looking for again?” I asked.

“Bog bonbons.”

“Which are what exactly?”

All of a sudden he dropped to all fours, plucked something from the ground, and jumped back up. “This,” he said, opening his palm to show me a small red orb, “is a red bog cerise bulb. They bloom in the springtime but wilt and die when the temperature rises. The flower cocoons itself in this fermenting bulb. If you pluck it at just the right time of year, it’s a delectable morsel. The bog is full of them right now. There are blue sapphire bulbs as well as golden bulbs.”

He popped it in his mouth and the bliss etched on his face was something I’d never witnessed before.

“And out of all the conversations you’ve had with Tamsenna, you believe she’ll enjoy these?” I knew my cousin. She did not have a sweet tooth. Like me, she preferred more tangy and tart food.

“You don’t know all my secrets. My ladylove and I have had many conversations and no, she won’t enjoy the red ones, but I have a feeling she’ll prefer the golden ones. The nectar inside is more sour than sweet.”

I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but the desire to push him into the bog water was so strong I had to put several feet between us.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Find your damn bog bonbons.”

Just then a grunt from a Boggoliz came from our left, so we quietly retraced our footsteps to avoid it, but the distraction wasn’t enough to silence me as my anger multiplied each time Kreshmore bent down to collect a golden orb.

“The sooner we get out of here the better,” I fumed.

“Mm-hmm,” he answered.

We stole down a new path just as a Boggoliz glided over the spot where we had been standing.

“When we get back to Achten Tan,” I continued in a low hiss, “I’ll ask the battle captain to assign me a new battlemate. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your ladylove.”

“You wouldn’t keep me from her at all.” He dropped a palm full of golden bog bonbons into an external pouch on his satchel. “That ought to be enough. What do you think?”

“I think you’re a selfish person who would give away a meaningful gift in order to impress someone who barely knows you. I’m leaving.”

“Willowmere, wait—”

I ran out of the bog and was already climbing the second desert dune when Kreshmore caught up. Desert nights in the Boneyard Region didn’t last long and the gentle embers of faint golden light bubbled on the eastern horizon. Even though the wind stole most of his words, I heard snatches of his voice as Kreshmore called my name.

My hair, which had come undone, was stinging my eyes, so I was fixing it when he came to stand in front of me. I huffed at him. “Can’t you tell when a woman is ignoring you?”

I didn’t expect him to smile lovingly at me. “You’ve been ignoring my hints for two years, Willowmere. So yes, I can tell when a woman is ignoring me. I hope you’ll forgive me for trying to get your attention in this dramatic fashion.”

My heart started beating erratically. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The dagger you made me was the most precious thing I owned, so I knew I couldn’t barter with anything less when I decided to declare myself. Every time you touched me to measure me, every time your eyes glided over me in that analytical way of yours, and every time you patched me up after a tough battle, I always hoped you’d finally notice me.”

How could I not notice the sexiest man in all of Achten Tan? I’d always felt he was off-limits, so I’d never entertained the thought. Not until now.

“And Tamsenna? You were trying to make me jealous?”

“Yes. I was really talking about you. How could I be in love with someone I hardly know when the person I’ve always wanted was right in front of me? Here,” he said, opening his palm to reveal a handful of the golden bog bonbons. “I got these for you.” His other hand tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear.

I’d never eaten anything that came from a bog before, but I trusted him. The bonbon had a crispy outer shell and when I bit into the golden orb, the watery nectar inside was tart enough to wake the dead.

“It’s delicious,” I said as I closed the gap between us. “All will be revealed. That’s what Gerwyn said, right?”

Kreshmore nodded. He leaned down to press his sweetly scented lips to mine. “I think I could get used to this.”

“Me, too.”

We took our time getting back. Fingers interlaced, which reminded me of the image produced by Gerwyn the Wise’s fortune reading, the orange sun was high in the sky by the time we reached Achten Tan.

~~ The End ~~