Justin and Lyle needed to walk far into the night to find a place to rest.
The dwarf was of the opinion that the road had been made this way to ward off any invading armies, while his companion argued often—and loudly—that the road was this way because the elves couldn’t take a hint when they found a site for their city.
“I bet the whole place is cursed,” he said on the third day. “How much clearer a sign can you get that something doesn’t want you to get to this place?”
“On the contrary, I very much want you to get there,” the AI said crisply.
“What, so I leave the game?” he muttered.
“No, so you stop bitching about this damned road. On the other hand, you being gone forever does have a certain appeal.”
He rolled his eyes and focused on his lunch. When he looked up, Lyle had a strange smile on his face. “What? What is it?”
“So, the city is cursed?” his friend asked.
“I’m not saying it’s definitely cursed. I’m only saying it’s awfully coincidental that—what? Why are you smiling like that?”
The dwarf grinned like a loon. “So, there’s no reason anyone would want to go to Insea?”
He folded his arms and waited for him to explain the joke. Lyle, for his part, clearly wanted to hold out but beckoned him to follow as he climbed the next rise. The road, for most of the past day, had been a series of rolling hills that made Justin’s calves ache until he had cursed the doctor, the makers of the game, and everyone involved in this all too realistic simulation.
Now, he sighed and walked to the top of the hill, fully expecting to see another twenty identical hills stretched before him. Instead, the ground sloped away and the road wound through beautiful fields and gardens until it reached the city.
“Wow.” Justin exhaled an awed breath.
Insea was everything he had imagined but so beautiful it made his heart ache. He had never been one for architecture but he had to admit there was something inspiring about the way the buildings gleamed in the sunlight. Distant spires and arches, solid walls of translucent stone, and everything in the city seemed almost lit from within.
“Ye sat down for lunch too soon,” Lyle said, with a grin. “I noticed just now when I was stretching me legs.”
He sank into a crouch, cursed his legs again, and laughed in wonder. “This is gorgeous.”
“And you wondered why they moved heaven an’ earth to build a city here,” the dwarf said smugly. He thought for a moment. “Well…the elves were never ones to let practicalities stand in the way of being floopy, pretty bastards, ʼspecially when they could get someone else to do the work for them.”
“They must have paid well,” he said with a laugh. “Otherwise, I don’t see what the dwarves got out of it.”
“A blessin’ an’ a curse,” his companion said philosophically. “We got our hands on that gorgeous hunk of rock an’ all the training we’d need to make our own cities. Since then, we’ve chased the dream of finding a place half as beautiful as Insea—or, Elfholt. That’s what we call it.”
Justin began to pack his gear up with newfound energy. “Batholemew seemed to think it was only a legend that the dwarves built it. I was joking when I mentioned them but it seems like you’re sure.”
“I grew up hearing tales of Elfholt,” Lyle said and shouldered his pack. “A city that shone like the sun, made from the most gorgeous rock you ever saw, carved by tools and magic alike, of elven design and dwarven make. No one ever told me where it was—it’s a legend to us, too. But now I’ve seen Insea…that’s it. I knew at a glance.” Wistfully, he added, “This is the first time in years I’ve wanted to go home. I want to show me da’ this.”
“You can,” he told him as the road led him down the long slope toward the city. “You can go home as the hero who slew a wizard and won the tournament of Elfholt and bring your family here to live in style.”
Lyle responded with an unwilling laugh. “None o’ them ever knew why I wanted to leave. Dwarves don’t leave. For this, though…”
“So, why’d you leave?” Justin asked.
“I went…what’s it you humans say? Stir-crazy, that’s it. Dwarves don’t even have a word for it, see. A few leave every generation. I found that out when I did. Their families