Discovery
© 2025 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  turnbolt



After breakfast the next morning, the trio prepared to leave. Meredith was poking at the balky magic compass and grumbling as Emir Sakhif ibn al-Mughafal emerged from his tent. The camel was tying his robe closed around his waist as he asked, “Leaving already?”

“Yes,” the paladin said. “We must continue our quest.”

“I understand, and I wish you good fortune, veem sala-veem,” the camel said with a gracious bow. “However, if you would so far entertain the idea, I invite you to join my wives in my harem.” There was a slight titter from one of the elephants as they came out in various states of undress to wave farewell to the adventurers.

“I fear we would not be to your taste,” Vesan said.

The camel did a double take and laughed. “That will be no issue, my dear rogue. Mia? Turn around and drop your robe, please.” The elephant complied and the trio saw a spiral on each of her buttocks, one clockwise and the other counterclockwise that joined above the base of her tail and changed into a vertical stripe of arcane runes that ran to the base of her spine.

“Transformation magic,” Varan said. Her fingerclaws peeked out of their sheathes. “They did this freely?”

Emir Sakhif looked scandalized. “Of course they did! I do not want a dagger in my ribs while I sleep. My wives,” and he gestured at the half-dozen pachyderms, “accepted the spell willingly as we consummated our marriage.” The camel grinned and his wives nodded. “So, I cannot persuade you - ?”

“No, thank you,” Meredith said, and the trio started off to the north.

Much later, with the sun going down and the brighter stars showing in the sky, they made camp. Vesan looked up and said, “We’re still headed north. Has that compass started working yet?”

The paladin shook her head, grimacing at the artifact as she paced around nervously. “No. It’s pretty well useless,” she said, pacing. Wherever she stopped, her hooves fidgeted against the ground.

“What’s the matter, Meredith?” Varan asked from where she sat before the campfire, her tail twitching back and forth. Unconsciously, Vesan’s tail also started moving. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” the golden palomino mare replied. “I just feel . . . nervous, like I just need to move around, if you know what I mean.”

“I feel it too,” Vesan said, the vir’s tail swaying rhythmically back and forth.

Varan began to say something but paused, her ears twitching. She leaned to the side and pressed one ear to the ground. Her feline eyes widened and she got to her feet, “Meredith! Do you remember what that bear told us?”

“Which one?”

“The one up in the Measly Mountains,” the mage said.

“Oh!” The mare thought as her hooves continued to move almost of their own volition. “You’re not here for the hunting, are you?”

“No, not that,” Varan said, stepping forward, making some sort of pattern in her steps that included a short pirouette. “He spoke of something called the night fever.”

Meredith’s eyes went wide. “You listened to the ground?”

“Yes!”

“There’s movement all around,” Vesan said. “Something’s happening.”

“I can feel it,” Varan said.

The three soon fell into a mutual, almost dancing rhythm as lighted squares began to fade into sight in the ground, forming a twenty square by twenty square matrix. The squares changed color as they dimmed and brightened randomly. “I – I can see it,” Vesan gasped. “I can see it in the air,” and she pointed, making the gesture part of her dance.

Their dancing rhythm against the ground was making a discernible beat, some form of music, and as they danced a vast dim shape began to appear in the gloaming.

They continued to dance, caught up in the music and the spell inherent in the tune, and the outline grew clearer.

“That’s it,” Varan breathed. “The Ghost Mountain.”

“Just like Vampire Lord Bob told us,” Meredith agreed.

The image gained more resolution, shimmering like a mirage until it finally gained solidity and the urge to dance stopped. All three adventurers fell to all fours, gasping for breath and wincing at aching feet, hooves, and legs. They crawled back to their campsite and were soon fast asleep.


***


“That,” Varan said, “was deceptively easy.”

Meredith nodded as she saved the game and let the clock advance to the next morning. “I agree.” The Mountain was still there as the sun came up and she said, “I think we need to get onto the Mountain before it fades away again.”

“Good idea. The game would probably move its location if it vanishes again.”


***


They broke camp hurriedly, despite aching feet and hooves, and headed for the range of low hills that had appeared closest to them. The distance was deceptive, however, and the sun was halfway up in the sky when the trio gained the hills.

The hills were a pleasant spot, fed by streams and supporting small settlements, orchards and farmland. The area was connected to other settlements by a road that snaked its way up the slope.

Meredith, Varan, and Vesan were making their way through a farm amid rows of fruit-bearing bushes when a canine dressed in overalls and a wide-brimmed hat shouted, “Hey! What are you doing here?” He closed the fifty-meter distance between them and stopped short when he saw that the trio were armed. “Adventurers?” he asked warily. “Or are ya here to steal mah fruit?”

The mare raised a paw. “We’re not here to steal anything. We’ve come from Dark City, and we’re headed to the Seat of Power.”

“Oh. Well, you can’t get there from here.”

“Why not?” Vesan said.

“The road yonder only goes as far as Rising Gorge,” the farmer said. “Name’s Klott, and you’re in mah berry farm.”

“Berries?” Varan asked.

Klott nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! Klott’s Berry Farm grows only the finest strawberries, raspberries and blackberries. Best climate for them, here in the toehills.”

“’Toehills?’” Meredith asked. “Don’t you mean foothills?”

“Those are further up,” Klott said, jerking a thumb at the road. “Meanwhile, can I interest you in some jam?”

“What’s it made of?” Vesan asked.

“Strawberries, raspberries and blackberries,” Klott replied testily. “Ain’t ya been listening, girl? People come from miles around for our toejam! C’mere and I’ll show ya!” He started walking away, gesturing for them to follow. The three shared a bemused expression and trailed after the canine.

“So,” Meredith said as they caught up with him, “toejam.”

“Yep, that’s right,” the canine said. “Klott’s Berry Farm is known for it. Does a lot more business than our last venture.”

“What was that?”

“Klott’s Beri-Beri Farm.”

“Ah.”

“We used to get hate mail from the Ghost Mountain Chamber of Commerce,” and the canine shuddered. “They’re awful . . . simply frightful bugbears.” He brightened slightly as he approached a market stall bearing shelves of various-sized jars with a dark purple substance in them. The labels bore the words Klott’s Berry Farm Toejam. He laid out some slices of bread, opened a jar at random, and smeared the slices with the jam. “Here, try it. First one’s always free.”

Varan cast a cantrip and gestured that it was safe, and Meredith took an experimental bite. The mare’s eyes lit up and she exclaimed, “That’s delicious!”

“Thanks,” Klott said. “One silver a jar.”

After buying three jars Vesan said, “We’ll be headed for the road now. Goodbye.”

“Ya’ll take care of yourselves,” the farmer said. “The road dips a bit further on, so be careful not to disturb the corns.”

“’Corns?’” Varan asked.

“The toehills support more agriculture than just what I grow for making toejam,” Klott said reasonably. “We’ve got maize growing along there.”

“Aka, thank you,” the vir said.


***


“Meredidh?” Varan asked as the mare slapped a paw against the white blaze on her forehead and dragged the paw down to her nose. “What’s wrong?”

“Wait a moment,” and the mare accessed a database, highlighting two definitions. “Take a look.”

Varan’s ears dipped. “Poor hygiene and a fungal infection? The game designers.”

“Yes.”