The trip along the North Road continued to be disturbingly peaceful. For the Chosen, who had scarcely traveled more than a dozen miles in any direction for the last two months without being attacked by monsters or brigands, the absence of danger was more nerve-wracking than the thought of combat.

Maggie simply marched jauntily northward, following just behind the Chosen no matter how they arranged themselves. It got to be an unspoken game, to see how many different configurations they could occupy and where Maggie would stand based on their positions.

“Do yeh always fidget about so, when yeh travel?” she finally commented.

The four nearly simultaneously broke out in giggles and chuckles.

“I’m missin’ somethin’, ain’t ah?” she squinted at them.

“No, hon. We’ve just been trying to figure out where you’d walk based on where we’re all standing,” Erin smiled.

“One step ta the right and two steps back from the last a yeh in the column, o’ course,” Maggie’s matter-of-fact reply caused the stop walking as one.

“Why?” Jack looked back at her.

“Because yeh are the Chosen, an’ cause ah’m the healer. Yeh all walk in front, and ah walk ta the side, so’s if one o’ yeh is hurt, I dinnae get tangled up in yer legs on the way up the line,” she gave a ‘psh’ at the end of the sentence, as though explaining her reasoning to obstinate school children.

Jack issued a surprised “huh”, then turned and started walking north again. The others shrugged or groaned and followed after him.

“So, how far do think it is to Olvayn’s Lift from here?” Layla asked Maggie.

“Why, Lassie, yer footsies hurt?” the dwarfess winked at her.

“Maggie… are all dwarves born incorrigible scoundrels, or do you all take classes?” the succubus replied.

“Classes,” she responded.

“Do you think they’d teach Rory? He needs scoundrel lessons,” she shot back.

“Oh, aye. Ah think he’d fit right in,” she nudged the succubus.

“I can hear you,” he called back without turning. “And I’ll kill you.”

“Off-sides. Stick It reference. No sports movies,” Layla ribbed him.

“I do what I want,” he replied.

“Yep, see. Fit right in,” Maggie smiled.

“Holy. Shit,” Jack’s shocked whisper carried from the front of the line.

Their eyes were naturally drawn to follow his gaze as he looked up the side of the mountain, over a thousand feet above them, where the hill they had crested had just revealed the top of Olvayn’s Lift. The massive superstructure jutted from the side of the mountain in the shape of an armored dwarven head with a long, braided beard. Even with the great sculpture was a plateau that seemed to have been carved into the mountain as a staging ground for the titanic lift, and from the distance, they could see the town named for the lift bustling with activity. As they watched, the monstrous platform engaged and began to crawl slowly downward along the skyscraper-like support beams to the receiving base half a mile below.

“Oh, we’re in luck. If’n we hurry, we might make it afore the lift goes back up,” Maggie immediately took Layla’s hand and pushed forward.

“Are… are we not gonna talk about this?” Layla continued to stare at the edifice of supernatural engineering built into the mountainside.

“Wha’s there ta talk about? Tha’s Olvayn’s Lift. Built afore the Soldaen Empire, roughly six hundred years ago, supposedly by a nameless divine hero still venerated by the dwarves to this day,” Maggie shrugged and started to pull Layla along again.

“Maggie, that thing has to be taller than any building in our world,” Rory gawked at the massive structure.

“That dinnae surprise me. Don’tcha nae have any magic in yer world?” she stopped with a huff.

“So… it’s… a giant… magical… dwarven head elevator?” Erin slowly asked.

“Aye. It’s magical. It’s pretty big. It’s shaped like a big burly bearded head. And it’s like ta leave us down here if’n we dinnae hurry,” she pulled Layla a little further along the road.

“Pretty big?!” Rory wheeled on her.

“Aye, pretty big. Tolvaer Deep is twice ‘at size, carved out o’ a whole mount’n. An’ the Depths ‘as a whole dark elf city built into the sides, big suspension bridges an’ what,” she lectured.

“And they’re only elves,” she mumbled.

“Now, me lovelies, d’yeh think we can be off?” she began to shoo the Chosen in the direction of the lift.

“We’re going to talk some more about this, Maggie,” Rory replied sternly, his eyes drawn back to the monstrous lift.

“Oh aye, boyo. Ah’ll give yeh all the dwarven architecture hist’ry lessons yeh like, so long as ah dinnae have ta wait five hours for that bloody lift ta come back down,” she pushed him gently northward.

“Five HOURS?!” Layla whirled toward her.

“Oh, Depths. Aye, five. Half ta go up, two ta wait, half ta go down, two ta wait, half ta go back up. Hmm, I guess that’d be nearly six,” she mused.

“It takes half an hour to make the trip up?” Jack asked her.

“Aye, laddie. But it’ll bloody well move an army up an’ down the thing all at once. The Caer long ago collapsed the tunnels and busted up the roads that lead up the mountainside. If’n yeh can hold the Lift, the city cannae be conquered. Well, less yeh have dragons, or gryphons, or balloons, or airships… Well, it’d be tough, arright?” she groused.

Jack stared at the lift as he walked.

“I think maybe we’ve been underestimating this place,” his brow creased into a pensive frown.

“Ah thought yeh all popped out in the Empire’s territory,” Maggie remarked.

“We did, but how would you know that?” Layla quirked an eyebrow at her.

“A month or so afore the Festival, I crawled up out of me cave an’ went out into the coast to risk castin’ a single divinin’. It was nice ta smell the salt again,” she smiled.

“The vision ah had told me quite a bit, and at first ah was afraid yeh would’nae get out o’ the Empire. Then ah saw a city consumed in flame. Ah figure tha’ was probably one o’ the Doom, so ah knew yeh’d be alright. Saw the symbol of the serpent crestin’ the waves, and a vision like a sailboat glowin’ like a candle, and a great silver bear, what carried ya on his back. Then yeh climbed a tall temple shaped like a flower, and rode a fish ta the purple valley ‘tween the peaks. Providence can be odd like that,” she smiled.

“That’s all shockingly accurate, actually,” Jack grinned.

“Ya rode a fish to Moryven?” she quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, more or less,” he smiled.

“It’s lovely ta be surrounded by the strange serendipity of the Chosen again,” she smiled serenely.

“Wait, you saw a vision that said we’d get nuked, and you knew we’d be alright?” Layla interrupted.

“Aye, the Doom cannae put a Chosen down fer good. Too big. Too… impersonal, ah guess. Always figured the Brothers invented ‘em ta keep the rabble in line, anyways,” she scowled.

“I thought they invented them to kill… hmm... “ Rory stopped himself mid-sentence.

“Nae, boyo. Brandon figured one o’ the Brothers must’ve worked on such terrible devices back in yer world. The Empire’s hist’ries say the Doom were one o’ the first things he started tryin’ ta make when he got here,” she spit out.

“Fucking, of course, he did,” Rory’s scowl was every bit as dour as Maggie’s.

“‘Nuff chatter fer now. Time ta march. Dinnae want ta be late ta ride the Lift!” she chirped, then one by one got them all moving at a good clip toward the mountain.

As the morning passed into afternoon and evening approached, Olvayn’s Lift grew precipitously in their vision, until finally, they set eyes on the base camp below the great device. The terminal had no official name and was simply referred to as “The Bottom” by those who did business or camped there. A few ramshackle wooden buildings crowded around the base of the lift, a single general goods store and a smattering of inns and brothels that looked like they might fall down at any moment.

As they approached the lift, a thick, sonorous klaxon sounded twice.

“Good. Two squawks means we’ve got bout twenty minutes afore it heads back up. Umm… it’s… uh, a silver a piece ta ride,” Maggie hedged.

“Oh, enough of this,” Rory grumbled and his storage irised open with a blast of mana.

He shoved a handful of gold, silver, and copper coins into Maggie’s hands.

“Here’s your first week’s pay, Maggie. Now stop faffin’ about and go buy us five passes,” Rory groused.

The dwarf stood there for a moment, then sniffled, and wrapped Rory’s waist in a big hug.

“Thank yeh, boyo,” then before he could respond, she trundled off to the cluster of attendants near the lift.

“It’s weird how she’s an alternating combination of everyone’s wise grandma and a little kid,” Erin remarked, watching her back and she walked to the lift.

“Isolation is a hell of a thing,” Jack responded.

“Tell me about it,” Layla murmured.

“She’ll get better,” Rory smiled faintly as he watched the old dwarf haggle with her juniors at the lift.

He turned back to the group and blew out a breath.

“You cooking tonight, Jackson, or do we want to try the local cuisine?” he gave the nightbringer a sly grin.

“I’m fine with eating out,” he grinned.

“I bet you are,” Layla mumbled.

“I heard that,” Erin nudged the succubus, giving her a wink when she looked up.

Back in the direction of the lift, a primal, agonized scream tore through the air, stilling every other sound around the Chosen.

They whirled, Jack and Rory already halfway through drawing their weapons, Erin already two steps toward the lift, and Layla’s hands burning with condensed flames.

Maggie was standing halfway between the lift and the Chosen, with a grimy human thug’s wrist in her hand. The wrist and the bottom of the forearm flopped lazily in her grip, the bones clearly shattered to gravel inside the man’s arm.

“Look! It’s the laddie what gave me that cutlass! Now, sonny, what did ah tell yeh about robbin’ old ladies the last time ah saw yeh.”