Bronwyn the Lanceress

Chapter 1

eep under the Grey Mountains, in an uncharted mineral forest, a fat dwarf drags a stone statue of a woman into a small underground chamber with the help of an injured dwarf miner. The woman is clad in armor, her stone hands tightly gripped around the shaft of a broken spear. Her face, locked in a fierce stare with narrowed eyes and grit teeth. She is clearly a human woman who would tower over the two dwarves, but instead she lays on her side, frozen in a battle stance.

The two dwarves take a moment to catch their breath. The injured dwarf looks at his blood-stained shirt as if he is just noticing it for the first time, he then leans on his pickaxe like a crutch and hobbles to the small opening they dragged the statue through.

The fat dwarf, struggling to catch his breath, nervously searches the arms and legs of the stone woman. “Three, no four punctures. One pierced right through her gauntlet.”

The injured dwarf fishes through his pack for some bandages. “I’m fine, mate, thanks for asking” snorts the injured dwarf, sarcastically.

The fat dwarf looks up angrily at the injured dwarf, “Do you know who this is? This is the mighty lanceress, Brownyn of Fretonia!”

The injured dwarf replies with his own anger. “Well now she’s dead weight! And, if we want to get out of here, we need to move. Those Mogleks can smell blood, even if yer not bleed’n.”

“I’m not leaving her!” snaps the fat dwarf. “There is still time to save her.”

The injured dwarf pauses from dressing his wounds to look at the fat dwarf. “Yer mad! Yer bleed’n mad!”

“Her petrification was quick, which means it’s the kind that starts outwards and works its way in.” The fat dwarf says, mostly to himself. “The books say true love’s kiss can shake off the curse, or if she were to believe her children were in danger.”

“Children? True love’s kiss? You’ve lost it mate!” Shouts the injured dwarf. “She’s hired muscle for the job, and the job is all jacked up now!”

The fat dwarf kneels near the petrified warrior, tears welling up in his eyes, his hands clenching his beard. The injured dwarf ties off his bandage, then peers out the entrance into the glittering darkness of the mineral forest. The sound of cracking stone and grinding jaws echo in the distance.

The injured dwarf’s face tightens at a particularly loud crack. “They’re chew’n on the others.” He then turns towards the fat dwarf with an air of sympathy and tries to get the fat dwarf’s attention. “Luster. LUSTER! Look at me, Luster.”

Luster turns his head toward the injured dwarf.

“This is yer last chance, mate.” The injured dwarf speaks slowly and as seriously as he can. “I’m plead’n with ya here, we need to leave now, or… Or you’ll wind up just like her.”

Luster stares past the injured dwarf, his eyes welled up. “It’s all my fault.”

From the distance, a high-pitch screech echoes through the mineral forest, and off of the cavern walls. The injured dwarf gives a last glance towards Luster, then bolts through the opening of the small cave and out of sight.

Luster turns back towards the petrified woman. “You don’t have any children, and I’m certainly not your true love. At best, I’m your biggest fan, but it looks like I’m just the dumb dwarf who killed the greatest warrior in all of Atruxia.”

In a fit of guilt, Luster loses his composure, and begins to openly weep, tears raining all around him. After a few moments, he sniffs and wheezes until he could once again speak.

“You should know the truth.” Sobbed Luster, as his beard glistens with tears and mucus. “I’m not sure if you can hear me, but if you can, you should at least know the whole story before we die.”

Luster sinks backwards, his head against the raw stone of the small cave, reciting his tale to the petrified woman. As he speaks, he seems to ignore the screeches echoing through the subterranean wilderness. He steps through his tale as if stepping back in time.

Chapter 2

I heard of a champion from the mountains near Fretonia, a human woman who is almost as tall as a giant. Her hair is like a blonde river flowing from her winged helmet, and her eyes like two blue fires. She stands like a figure chiseled from stone, with skin as smooth as polished armor. Her name is Bronwyn, and she is a champion with a lance. Undefeated in joust, most people call her the lanceress. Even off of a horse, she is an untouchable warrior.

Famously, Bronwyn never smiles. You never smiled, that was why I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even when you won a tournament, you kept a stoic disposition. I’ve seen dwarves that never smile, but they’re unaccomplished miners who can’t tell a jewel from a golem’s turd. But you are a living legend with nothing but fame and adornment ahead of you. There should be a smile on those lips, and perhaps I believed myself to the dwarf to put it there.

When you traveled to my hometown, Goldrig, to compete in a tournament, I saw an opportunity to crack that straight jaw of yours and finally see you grin. I volunteered to plan the tournament’s victory ceremony, knowing that you would win, I would bombard you with the greatest dwarven humor money could buy.

Despite my own infamous sense of humor, my coin purse is much deeper than my repertoire of jokes, so I hired the world’s most famous jester, Pyrite Pick. It was not easy, that dwarf is in high demand, but I used a few connections to free up his schedule. I was worried though, his humor can be a tad controversial, and I was not sure if you would get his comparisons between above and below ground dwarves. However, I could not play it safe. Pyrite had performed for enough humans, and even was a headliner in Brexia. If anyone had the skills to crack a smile on your lips, I thought it was that jester.

During the tournament, you of course were victorious in the joust, just like I knew you would be. As the award ceremonies began, the crowd lit up when Pyrite Pick came out to present, but I was incredibly nervous. He did not hold back or disappoint, he even had a few lines poking fun at the champions. When it came to you, he made a remark about how you made him wish he was taller, but only a specific amount taller so that his eyes could be breast height. The dwarf next to me spat out his beer when Pyrite struggled to put the medal around your neck. He asked you to pick him up to make it easier, but you just shook your head. Pyrite jokingly gave up and tied the medal around your lance.

I sat close enough to see your face. While the crowd roared with laughter, you did not flinch. The most you did was pat Pyrite on the shoulder to let him know that was enough. I laughed, but it was an empty laugh to hide my disappointment. When you returned to Fretonia, my heart was heavy with failure.

Everyone loved the celebration, the Goldrig Tournament was a huge success, but I felt I had failed because you never smiled. It would be too long of a wait for the next tournament, there had to be some way to try again.

Not to brag, but I’m a very wealthy dwarf. I’m a bit of a local celebrity in Goldrig: Luster Charmstone, expert geologist specializing in mystical minerals. To round out my resume, I also dabble in fossils — you would be surprised how often biology and geology are intertwined.

I have been called upon by several kings, queens, a vampire, a goblin crime lord, and a wizard who so wished to remain anonymous that he cursed me to be unable to speak his name . . . luckily, I can always write it. I own a vault made of obsidian, which holds several treasures; one of which is a custom gemstone that can bend light to create an illusionary image of my deceased mother, which I use to scare the ghost of my father away.

I used to have one rule: I don’t do adventures. Should a rare stone require identification, I would happily travel to a city or town to examine it, but never into the wilderness, and certainly not deep underground. However, I was willing to bend that rule for you.

In addition to competing in tournaments, Bronwyn the Lanceress is a well known spear-for-hire. The tournaments are more of a demonstration of your talents, I heard your real career was adventuring. So if I truly intended to make you smile, I would need to risk a little danger and go on an expedition with you.

There are many tales of the wilderness under the mountains. When the cursed giants conquered the home valley, many dwarves were forced under the mountains. These were dark times, but we mighty dwarves found life under the stones. Sprawling mushroom forests, underground lakes, canyons glowing with small critters, enormous stone eaters, and living minerals. There are vast frontiers under the mountains, and you either come back rich or as a bleed’n ghost!

One of my best clients heard a rumor about a cluster of living opals in a newly discovered mineral forest. Living gemstones are an amazing find because it is possible to replant them in a safe space and harvest them annually. However, one must be extremely cautious before even touching them because there are countless hazards underground, and most of them shimmer like gems. My client has been too afraid to try and collect the opals without an expert, and experts like me are in short supply.

This client was ecstatic when I said that I was willing to journey into the subterranean frontier, but I of course demanded an escort. He was very confused when I demanded that the champion, Bronwyn the lanceress, accompany the expedition.

Chapter 3

I don’t know why I thought a dangerous expedition would give me a chance to make you laugh, I’m an absolute coward! After I signed the contracts and the waivers, the threat started to dawn on me. There are creatures underground so terrifying that they can blind a dwarf with a glance. There are creatures so big that you can wander into their mouth without realizing. Oh, what had I done!? The contract I signed was binding. Magically binding. If I tried to cheat or lie my way out of it, my hands would catch fire! Contract curses are no joke.

I hired extra muscle, upgraded our supplies, and in the peak of my anxiety, I purchased an enchanted sword to use as protection. It was a foolish purchase, I had never drawn a sword in my life! The merchant warned me to be extra careful when unsheathing this magic blade because it conjured the energies of the Storm Moon. I purchased the sword because I was afraid, and then I became too afraid to use it. I started to wonder if I could just endure the curse of the contract and possibly pay a healer to restore my hands, but all my fear and anxiety left when you arrived.

Oh, I had seen you in your glory in the tournaments, but away from the crowds, you are something more. No polished metal or fancy lance, you came wearing worn, sensible armor, fit for mobility. Your hair did not flow, but was braided and tied back. Strapped to your back was an arsenal of weapons; spears, axes, knives, and a round shield that I swear had teeth fragments embedded in it.

I was so stunned by seeing you that I could barely introduce myself. I had thought about you so much that I nearly forgot I was a stranger to you. When shaking your hand, my arm was like a rope tied to a wild horse. And then, I heard you speak – your voice was commanding. You said “Do what I say, do your job, and you will live.” I nodded, my mouth agape like a simpleton. Then, you marched past me, grabbed a sack of provisions, and embarked into the depths.

For days, we walked and climbed through a labyrinth of stone caverns, ate provisions or the occasional cave fish, and slept on uneven stone ground. It was dreadfully uncomfortable, but seeing you in your element was thrilling. Maybe something on this journey would go right afterall.

Once we reached the mineral forest, you told us all “No noise.” Then, as you drew two small axes, I felt my throat tighten and my legs felt weak. We walked slowly, carefully, and silently.

The mineral forest would have been breathtaking had I not been so scared. Towering pillars of crystals with glass-like branches. Dots of glowing algae Illuminated the dark cave roof like the nighttime sky, and small bulbous insects drifted through the air, emitting a gray light as they hummed by. The ground was irregular and uneven. Brittle, jagged rocks stuck out at ankle-level, catching our boots as we walked in a line behind our fearless lanceress.

I had heard of mogleks, they’re bear-sized, flightless bats that use their angular wings to disguise themselves as crystals. I knew little about them, but we all learned that moglek babies also disguise themselves as gems. We followed the map right into a mogleks nest; this is why I don’t adventure! We didn’t even get very close. Once I saw the supposed “living opals”, I immediately tried to convince the party to flee, but it was too late. Mogleks shriek to help them see in the dark caves, and the moment we heard the chorus of shrieks, it was too late.

Bronwyn drew a spear and slew the most ambitious moglek. She shouted to us to stay close. Our composure lasted maybe a moment, until a set of fangs sprang from the darkness and grabbed one of the miners. As he started to petrify, we scattered.

I dove under an angled stone and watched as shadows darted through the dim light with bone chilling screams. One of the miners dropped their lantern; the oil spilled out and went up in a bright flame. For a moment, the mogleks retreated, but their shrieking made it clear they were still close. Then, with a thud, your stone shape fell down before me, your solidified face looking towards me in anger. The greatest warrior, Bronwyn the Lanceress, had been turned to stone.

Chapter 4

I admired you from afar for years. When you joined the expedition, I wanted to tell you how amazed I am by you, but was too much of a coward. For days I walked near you and sat by a campfire, and was afraid to tell you. I’m such a coward! I might have even been able to help you fight, I still have this magic sword, but I’m too afraid to draw it!

And now, you’re going to die at the hands of a coward instead of a fierce dragon or an army of beasts. I, Luster Charmstone, will forever be remembered as the fool who killed the mighty Bronwyn, the lanceress!

Suddenly, there is a crack, and Brownyn’s arm falls to the cave floor with a thud. Luster gasps, thinking her arm broke off, but it is attached. His eyes widen as cracks form across Bronwyn’s petrified skin.

“I should have known! Of course, you are Bronwyn the lanceress! No curse can hold you! You’re unbeatable! You’re a champ—“ Lusters words are interrupted by a strange sound coming from behind Bronwyn’s stone face.

At first, it sounds like choking, but from her stone mouth, two cracks form from the corners of her lips and jaggedly extend up to the ears. The lower half of her stone face falls free revealing a set of teeth brandished in a wide grin.

Luster cannot look away. The moment he had dreamed about is finally happening, but it is nothing like he had hoped. The noise from Bronwyn becomes clear, she is chuckling. Flakes of stone break and fall off of her chest as her torso tremors. Then, the chuckle turns into some sort of cackle. Luster then realizes, Bronwyn’s laugh… it’s terrifying!

“You thought that a coward like you would be the death of me!?” Bronwyn bellows, clutching her abdomen. “You are so squishy and small, and you think you have slain me!”

Luster shrinks back, clutching his legs as Bronwyn towers over him. Her raucous laughter chills him to his core. As Bronwyn extends her hand toward him, he squeezes his eyes shut. Then, he feels it. Her hand has reached past him and grasps the hilt of his magic sword.

Luster squints open as sparks of lightning materialize around her hand. Bronwyn unsheathes the blade and holds it over her head. Lightning pulses across the edge of the sword, tossing stray arcs of electricity around the cave. The ear splitting cracks of lightning do little to drown out Bronwyn’s roaring laughter. She then turns her attention back towards the mineral forest. The shrieks of the mogleks ring in the distance, but now pale compared to the awfulness of the lanceress. Bronwyn strides out of the cave, beyond Luster’s sight.

Petrified with fear, Luster huddles in the cave and watches as flashes of light cast menacing shadows into his shelter. He listens to the sounds of lightning crashes, shattered glass, and vicious laughter. The moment drags then fades until the mineral forest falls silent and dark.

Bronwyn returns to the cave, holding the baby mogleks, the ones that resemble living opals. She has ceased laughing, and returned to her stoic disposition. She shoves the baby mogleks in a sack and looks down at me.

“We’re leaving.” She says coldly. “The others are dead.”

Luster shakily stands up and follows Bronwyn. As he steps out of the caves, the mineral forest is painted with streaks of glowing magenta. Pools of glimmering magenta blood seep out of detached limbs and severed moglek bodies. The glowing blood reveals scorch marks on the crystal trees and jagged rocks from wild lightning bolts.

Luster never asked for the sword back, and it was unlikely Bronwyn would have returned it. The trek to the surface was quiet until they found the injured dwarf part way. He was alive, and surprised to see the lanceress walking about. The injured dwarf applauded Luster for his devotion to Bronwyn, but the compliment didn’t seem to please Luster.

The client accepted the baby mogleks in place of the living opals, but that was mostly because Bronwyn demanded it. Strangely enough, she really knows how to read a contract, because she pointed out how they had delivered everything to the letter, and that the client failed to specify what they should not return with.

Luster never saw Bronwyn again. He stopped attending jousting competitions and also never ventured into the wilds. Strangely enough, when people learned that Bronwyn managed to de-petrify herself, scholars and healers wanted to know how. She told them that Luster Charmstone told a story so ridiculous and pathetic that she couldn’t help but laugh, and this freed her from petrification. Luster was hailed as some genius comedian, but he refused to comment on it further.