Sevan did not have to wait as long as he thought, though.

The others in the party, at least in part, returned to the tavern. Jitma, and the monk, Caleb, gave their greetings, Caleb giving both Sevan and Otho slight bows. Sevan gave him a brief nod in return, and Otho nodded to everyone in greeting, and took out some clean glasses, just in case. He soon put one of them to use, when Jitma hopped onto a stool next to Sevan.

“I’d like a pint of your finest ale, Mr. Otho, worshipping makes me thirsty,” she said.

“My greetings, friends,” said Sevan at last, as Otho put a pint in front of Jitma. “You’re certainly back sooner than I had expected. Otho and I were just having a pleasant chat about the legends that surround this area.”

“Oh, really?” said the elven wizard, Narluen. “And what sort of legends do surround this area?”

“Oh, there’s all sorts of legends about these mountains,” said Otho.

“The mountains!” said Narluen half-wistfully. “Have they always been just a home for orcs?” he asked.

“Interesting you should ask that,” said Sevan. “It appears that they are a home for at least one other being, and one that’s not very fond of magic-users.”

Jitma took her pint, and made herself comfortable in her seat to listen to the story, and Narluen turned to Sevan with interest.

“If we ever head north,” Sevan told Narluen, “take care not to use any of your magical tricks in a certain dwarven-made passage. Digging graves in solid stone is all-but impossible, after all,” he said with a wink, and Caleb nodded in agreement.

Otho chuckled at that. “The signs are clearly marked at that stretch of the highway,” he said.

Narluen was now clearly interested. “A being? Any particular kind?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Oh, a shadow being of some sort, it would seem,” said Sevan.

“Looks like it’s got outside contractors now,” said Jitma, drawing puzzled attention from both Sevan and Otho.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious isn’t it?” she continued, turning to Otho. “The orcs are using the mountains as a base with the leave of whatever it is that lived there in the first place.”

“Miss…” said the tavern-keeper slowly, “that highway’s centuries old, and whatever those dwarves found… well, I doubt it has anything to do with troubles of today.”

“Orcs rarely ask for leave,” added Narluen.

“And the mountains are vast,” said Sevan. “I doubt they live in that particular stretch of rock.”

“Well, shadow beings are not famous for their neighbourly feelings, either,” said Jitma, making Sevan smirk. The woman was certainly loathe of letting go of an idea once she held it in her grasp.

“Oh, if the legend is true, this one only cared for the magic-using folk. The dwarves could pass unmolested, t’would seem, as long as they used no magic in their stone-cutting,” he said, and Otho nodded in agreement.

“Well, it would be prudent for me not to go there, then,” said the elven mage.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Sevan, thinking over the details of the tale Otho had told him. It would be a good idea, he mused, to tell it in full to the others.

“Seems that in the old days,” he said, “when the dwarves were carving their highway through the mountains, using a wizard to help them, the wizard suddenly turned a funny colour, and fell dead.”

“The dwarves saw nothing?” asked Narluen, interrupting Sevan.

“Maybe something bit him,” Jitma added.

“Oh, they later fought ‘the very shadows’, as they themselves said,” said Sevan, pointedly ignoring Jitma’s comment. “None were truly hurt, though. Some strange wounds, but nothing lethal. The shadow in question wasn’t hurt either, t’would seem.

“So, the dwarven foreman decided to hire another wizard.” Sevan continued. “That one died, too. This time the dwarves were better prepared, and charged the shadow-being with weapons prepared beforehand. But still no one, except for the wizard that is, was truly hurt.”

“The wizard died in the same manner as the previous one?” asked Narluen. Sevan only nodded.

“One turned yellow, the other turned green,” Otho said helpfully.

“And the shadow?” asked Caleb quietly.

Good question, thought Sevan, and one no one has a real answer for.

“Indeed,” he said. “The dwarven foreman decided that the road could be finished without the use of magic. It was done, and the dwarves did not suffer further attacks or injury. Signs were left on either end though, just in case.”

His tale was finished, but Sevan was certain he had not told it as well as Otho did. He was no bard, no storyteller, and perhaps it would have been for the best if he just told the important parts of the tale, and naught more.

“The death was instantaneous, the moment he performed magic?” asked Narluen, breaking the silence, and Sevan had to hold back a groan. He could understand the elf’s interest, especially if it had to do with his well-being, but he had had enough of the wizard’s questions.

“And when did this happen?” asked Caleb.

Sevan just turned to Otho, and the tavern-keeper heeded the silent plea in the tiefling’s eyes.

“This is an old legend, friends…” he started saying, but could not finish the sentence before Narluen cut him off.

“You doubt it’s true?” he asked, and Sevan was sure he heard a note of hope in the elf’s voice.

“Perhaps it’s only superstition,” said Otho, “perhaps there’s more than just a grain of truth to it. For all I myself know, maybe some here came and slew the shadow some time after – though if this happened, I’ve never heard the tale of it.”

“So it has been passed on from mouth to mouth until nothing of the original story was left,” Caleb added under his breath, almost unheard.

“Nothing?” Sevan said, turning to Caleb with a raised eyebrow. “We will see if it’s truly nothing, if we ever head north.”

“It’s a stretch of the old Highway where wizards tend to move quickly, or hire bodyguards," said Otho. “And, young sir,” he told Caleb, “the original signs are left, carved into the walls of the pass in dwarven runes, and occasionally repainted in the Common tongue for the rest of us.”

“Have there been any other wizard deaths since?” asked Jitma. “Why do wizards have to hire bodyguards now?”

“Well,” said Otho, “there’s been no other wizard deaths in that pass that made it into legend, miss, and I’d imagine they hire bodyguards because your average wizard, no offence, relies on his magic so much that he has no other way of defending himself.

Jitma was clearly not satisfied with the answer, but kept her thoughts on the matter to herself.

Narluen scoffed. The remark about there being no offence was clearly directed to him, as Otho had turned to him when he said it. He wondered why he mentioned it if there was truly no offence in his words.

“Wizardry relies on dedication to improving the mind,” he said. “It leaves no time for hitting people around the head, however tempting it may be.”

Otho chuckled at the elf’s reply, taking it for a joke. Narluen was puzzled for a moment, wondering why the tavern-keeper was laughing about. Had someone said something amusing without him noticing?

Jitma wanted to ask the elven wizard why should he not hit people around the head with magic, but decided against it. It was apparent he was not too kindly inclined towards her after the “Are you open for business” comment back at the temple.

“Any other particularly interesting legends?” Narluen asked Sevan.

“Nothing, really,” said Sevan. “At least, this is the only one Otho had time to mention.” he said honestly. And I’m grateful for it, he didn’t say. He had had enough questions to suit him for the remainder of the day.