“He could have given us a guide,” Dallion said as he walked behind Euryale.

According to the maps, Croya had roughly the same latitude as Nerosal. In theory, the weather was supposed to be the same as elsewhere in the wilderness. In reality, all weather in the wilderness was quite similar: dry, hot, and windless. The gorgon, though, had insisted that Dallion buy a set of fur clothes from the city, as well as an entire pelt for the night. Trusting her, he had done so, even if he soon came to notice that he was the only one who had packed extra clothes. Both Eury and Jiroh had the same equipment they always did.

“Or even a horse,” Dallion added.

“You’d trust anything that came from that duke?” A third of the gorgon’s snakes moved to the side, staring at Dallion.

“He didn’t seem to be lying. I trust he wants to get his creature problem dealt with and doesn’t care about us.”

“He’s not. He was wearing a disfocus item. Maybe more than one.”

“Come on.”

“Can you remember what the noble looked like?” Eury asked. “Clothes, hair, eye color…”

Dallion tried to think back, but for some reason, the details skipped his mind. No matter how hard he tried, the only thing he knew for certain was that there was someone in the underground garden seated on a throne. Everything else was a blur in every sense of the word.

“Do you think Largo will be alright?”

“He’ll be fine.” Eury paused for a moment, then continued walking. “He asked for a high-paying job and he got it. I just hope it shuts his mouth for a few weeks.”

At noon, the group stopped for a bite. Before Dallion could swallow a single bite, his heart tightened for a moment. The sensation quickly went away, but he knew its significance: the Green Moon was giving him a friendly warning. It had been months since he had been roaming the wilderness with Eury’s hunting party, and none of that time had been spent seeking out the dragonlet.

I’ll keep my promise, Dallion thought. I need to become an apprentice first.

There was no response. Despite serving as his protector and patron, the Green Moon never made an appearance. The only times Dallion saw him were in dreams and awakening trials.

I’ll keep my promise. Dallion took another bite. This time, the pain didn’t occur.

“He hasn’t sent anyone after us,” Eury said, looking in the direction of Croya. “He’s either smart or really clever.”

“That’s a good sign.” Jiroh nodded.

“How do you want to go about this?”

“We’ll dash to the mountain after we finish eating.” The fury looked at Dallion, then at Eury. “I think I’ll be able to carry you both.”

“I can get Lux to help,” Dallion offered. “He’s not too good in directions, but he’s good at boosting.”

“Thanks. I’ll manage on my own.”

“Do we know any specifics? The “Glass Mounts” sounds a bit vague.”

“It’s not. There’re only a few abandoned villages in the mountains, back when mining glass was profitable.”

“I never heard about that,” Dallion said, a clear hint for Nil to step up.

“It did really well for a while… for a very short while. Glass mining was a royal game. Even most nobles couldn’t afford it. The workforce had to be all of awakened—forgers preferably—a whole legion of troops had to guard them, and logistics were a nightmare. The mounts are difficult to reach, not to mention that nothing lives there. Furies were hired to do most of the work, but when the wars started, there was a better market for their combat skills. Since then, the mountain has remained abandoned.” The fury took a gulp from her flask, then put it away. “If Fevre is still in the mountains, he’s in one of the abandoned settlements. He must have stocked up on food to come here, so I doubt he’ll move on so soon. The question is, will he agree to help us?”

“I’ll try to convince him.” Dallion offered. Besides, he’s not the only one who could be questioned.

Careful, dear boy, Nil said. Keeping secrets half hidden is a dangerous game. Either share everything or nothing at all.

Maybe.

You know better to delay it till later.

I’m not delaying. This isn’t a repeat of last time. I have my reasons for not telling them, not yet, at least.

The old echo grumbled, but didn’t say anything more.

In a matter of minutes, when the tasteless rations were done with, the group prepared to go on with the journey. Dallion was asked to put on the set of fur coats on top of his current ones, despite the heat. Doing so made him feel as if he’d crawled in a baker’s oven, closing the door behind him.

“Ready?” Jiroh asked.

Dallion was about to respond, when he was grabbed by a sudden gust of wind and pulled forward. There was a time when this would have caught him by surprise. Now he saw it as a slightly more exotic mode of travel, or as “Lux in the real world” as he liked to say. There was one major difference—when the fury flew really fast, a strong smell of ozone filled the air.

All surroundings zipped through. It was just like being on a plane with the windows rolled down. The features of the wilderness slowly changed. The steppe-like ground became stonier. The mountain range in the distance came closer and closer. Within minutes, the group was already on it, climbing along the cliffs as if it were nothing. Dallion initially expected this to be the start of the glass mounts, but as it soon turned out, he was very wrong.

Jiroh didn’t even reach the peak, choosing to fly to the side of a much lower summit. Once they passed over, the real destination emerged.

This is Glass Mount? Dallion managed to ask.

Strictly speaking, there was a small mountain chain made entirely of glass before them. However, that was ignoring the fact that the mountain was located in a vast valley of glass within a much larger mountain chain. Now he understood why there were so many stories concerning its origin. Looking at it, however, Dallion could come with a single explanation: nuclear explosion, or the local equivalent. Whatever had struck the mountain had turned, scooped a ball of rock from the very mountain, transforming everything beneath into glass. Even the existing mountain in the middle of all this seemed to have been created as an afterthought—a wave or liquid glass that had risen up in the center of the vast depression and solidified there.

“What do you think of the view?” Eury shouted.

“Definitely not what I expected.”

The gorgon smiled and pointed at something at the base of the glass mountain. Dallion focused. From this distance, he could barely make out two small dots ruining the smooth surface. After a few moments, he saw that those had been quarries. The awakened who had worked here must have painstakingly chipped off slap after slap of glass to be transported to a noble’s palace elsewhere in the world.

On closer examination, a few makeshift settlements became noticeable not too far away—the only presence of stone and wood within the entire valley.

Not stopping to catch her breath, Jiroh flew past the stone summit, then along the wall of glass that marked the start of the depression.

“The one to the left,” Eury shouted. “There’s smoke.”

Dallion concentrated, trying to spot what the gorgon had seen, but failed. Even at its current level, his perception was no match to hers. It was only after a few more minutes that he saw the thin thread of black smoke trickle from one of the stone buildings.

Several more minutes later, and the world stopped moving. Gasping for air, Jiroh fell to her knees. No one rushed to her to help. Her companions knew better than to offer help. That was one of the unspoken rules when it came to hunters: never offer help unless it was fighting something else. Hunters kept their guard and their distance at all times.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Dallion said.

Dallion wanted to say that this was untypical of her, but that would be a lie. Generally, she was extremely calm, even more so than Eury. When it came to information regarding her home, though, things suddenly changed. It was almost as if there was some deadline she had to find her home by or the whole world would crumble to dust.

Anyone here? Dallion asked. If there were any guardians, they didn’t respond.

Despite the alien beauty of the place, it remained the wilderness. It was also extremely cold. Once the adrenalin of the flight had worn off, Dallion was glad to have put on all the clothes. His companions, on the other hand, didn't care—furies could wrap themselves in a bubble of warm air, and gorgons weren’t affected by cold.

Dallion was just about to make a comment when he sensed combat splitting in the vicinity.

“Splitting!” he drew his sword, splitting into a dozen instances. Barely had he done so, when eight foreign instances of a dwarf with a halberd came charging at them out of nowhere. A series of clashes followed. Each of the dwarf’s instances was blocked by one of Dallion’s. The initial clash done, all instances vanished into nothingness.

“We’re hunters,” Jiroh shouted. “We’re not here to fight. We’ve come to buy some information from you.”

There was no answer.

“That’s not to say that we can’t fight if we need to. I don’t know you personally or by reputation, but I doubt that you’ll be able to take all three of us.”

“I could, if I tried,” a gruff voice said. It had a slightly strange accent, with the rs pronounced and the vowels nasal. If Dallion didn’t know better, he’d say it was some form of French. “Why are you ‘ere?”

Definitely French, he thought.

“Just for a talk. Hunter to hunter.”

“I’m no ‘unter anymore. And I’ve already sold everything I owned.” There was a slight pause. “And there’s nothing you can tempt me with!”

“Not even furs?” Euryale asked. “It can get pretty cold here, I hear.”

There was no telling whether that was meant as a joke, but it did the trick. A door of the stone buildings creaked open, revealing a sturdy dwarf. He was every bit what Dallion imagined. Of all the faces he’d seen so far, dwarves matched the mental image Dallion had from Earth.

Fevre was somewhere round four feet tall, muscular enough to show through the many layers of woolen clothes he was wearing. His beard was long and dark, possibly to compensate for his slightly balding head. It was a good guess to say that in his youth the dwarf must have been quite the dandy. Given how rare awakened were for the other races, it was no wonder.

“Furs?” Fevre asked.

Euryale pointed at the pelt rolled above Dallion’s backpack.

You have to give it to her, the armadil shield said. Even when she makes things up, she makes them sound natural. I told you she’s a keeper.

“Just one?” the dwarf grumbled, even if Dallion was able to sense the joy within him. “Come along.” He turned around and entered the building. The others soon joined him.

The dwarf’s abode was beyond spartan. All the furniture was made of glass. The bed and a few of the “chairs” were covered with fur scraps, although most weren’t. A small fire was burning in the fireplace, providing some degree of warmth.

“Where do you get the wood from?” Dallion asked, looking around for a suitable place to sit.

“I climb up the mountain every day and get some from there.” Fevre looked at him. “Just a little ‘umor. I bought enough to fill five houses. It isn’t much, but it’ll last me for a few years. Same for the food, so I’m not offering any!”

“Understood.” Jiroh used her air control to take the pelt from Dallion’s backpack and place it on the floor in front of the fireplace. “As I said, we’re here to talk. We’ll give you what food we have. All I need is for you to tell me one thing.”

The dwarf made a circle in the air with his left hand, telling her to continue.

“I learned that you found the ruins of a cloud castle. I want to know where.”