Maggie dangled the human by his crushed arm, prompting another gut-wrenching scream to gurgle from his throat. Several of his fellow thugs milled about the edge of the crowd, seemingly steeling their courage to help their hapless friend.

The only guards that seemed to be stationed at the Bottom were clustered about the lift platform, and most of the nearby merchants and travelers looked reluctant to interfere with the elderly dwarf that had just pulverized a man’s arm by shaking his hand too hard.

“Sonny, yer nae answerin’ me,” she shook the thug slightly, her admonishment punctuated by another scream.

“Maggie, love, I don’t think he’s in the right mindset. You’ve learned your lesson, yeah mate?” Rory put his hand on Maggie’s arm.

The brigand nodded his head furiously, tears carving grimy rivulets down his dirty face. The dwarf looked over at Rory and smiled gently, then turned back to the thief, where her face hardened. Then she shrugged and dropped him, eliciting a squeak of pain.

“Come get your friend and get out of town,” Jack stepped up next to Maggie, his voice deep and growling.

Behind him, Erin slapped her gauntlets together, the supernatural impact like a church bell. The crowd widened suddenly at the roar of metal on metal.

“Yessir,” one of the thugs plunged forward and snatched his friend by the straps of his chest armor, dragging him away from the dwarf.

“Oh, last time ah were here, there was a li’l stand, sold kebabs. Feller gave me a free one,” Maggie began to drift toward the left side of the massive staging area where the platform’s support structures rose into the sky like titanic obelisks.

“Maggie?” Erin trailed after her.

“Aye, lass?” the dwarf looked over her shoulder.

“Did you have to crush his arm?” her mouth was pressed into a thin line.

“Nae, lassie, ah dinnae. But ah only give second chances,” she replied simply.

“Doesn’t that seem harsh?” Erin asked.

Maggie stopped marching, then turned slowly and walked back to where Erin stood. She took the tall dreadnought’s gauntlets in her gnarled and worn hands.

“Nae, lassie. It dinnae. Yer world is sweet on the outside, Erin, like a candy-coating. Yeh have ta dig down ta get ta the dirty and ugly. Ayrgard is’nae like that. The ugly is on top, and the candy is in the middle. An’ the only way ta get there is ta take big bites o’ shite til yeh get ta the center. Ah’ve taken me big bites o’ shite, lass. Pick a thousand folk from here, Olvayn’s Down up top, and likely even in Moryven, and ah’ll be stronger than e’ryone o’ them. Could likely kill ‘em all an’ be fresh as a daisy at the end. Another with me power woulda crushed the lad’s skull or incinerated him an’ been done wit’ it, understand? Would’nae have even looked twice,” she gave Erin a level stare, the timid dwarf afraid of being thrown away for being too weak nowhere to be found.

“You hurt him… what, to protect him?” Erin’s face said she understood the lesson Maggie was trying to teach her, but didn’t want to accept the reality.

“Nae, lassie. Ah hurt him cause he tried to rob me twice. Too stupid ta be a bandit,” she smiled slightly.

“But who gave you the right? Who decided you’re allowed to just cripple someone?” Erin asked.

“The world, lassie. An’ it’s a bitch of a judge. Yeh sound like Brandon, when ah first met him. Good an’ bad dinnae matter, lass. Yer either strong, an’ right, or yer weak, and wrong. Mayhap yeh can find someone who’s strong an’ good ta protect yeh, like those who live in Verdantes, but if yeh cannae? If yer born in the Empire? Or in a li’l shitehole where the mayor is some Hunter retired in the fourth or fifth to lord o’er his own li’l kingdom? The world dinnae care if he’s good or bad, lassie. Only that he’s stronger than the peasants what serve his whim,” her eyes were empty, her mouth twisted into a bitter smile.

Jack took Erin’s hand, the endless black wells of his eyes just visible under his hood as he looked down at the dwarf.

“And you, Maggie? Are you good or bad?” his voice was hard as steel.

“Neither, laddie, but ah’m strong, and I belong ta the Nightfather, and ta the Chosen, til the day ah die an’ go to rest in the Twilight Wood,” the bitterness of her long isolation and loss slowly drained out of her smile, her eyes crinkling as the grin became genuine.

“Then you’re gonna be doing a lot of bad things to a lot of bad people, and a lot of good things for a lot of good people, understand?” his expression didn’t soften.

A tear rolled down the dwarf’s face.

“Yeh remind me so much o’ me boy, Jack,” she sniffled and wiped away the wet streak.

“That’s not an answer, Maggie,” Rory said quietly.

“Nae, it was’nae. But ah do understand. Ah believe in what you call ‘justice’,” she said the word in English, “but Ayrgard does nae. Ah’ll walk yer path as long as yeh live, though, boyo.”

“Good enough. Now, where’s the kebab place?” Jack looked away.

“Over here, ah think,” she replied and began to march toward the lift again.

Layla: Maggie… you said Brandon went to sea, but not that he died.

Maggie: Aye.

Layla: Is he still alive?

Maggie: Aye.

Rory: How do you know?

Maggie: Ah’m… not ready ta tell yeh that.

Jack: Fair enough. Who’s hungry?

Erin: We’re just dropping it?

Jack: Yes.

Erin: We’re just dropping that a century old Chosen who could help us is… just… out there?

Jack: Yes.

Erin: Why?

Jack stopped walking, his back straight. Rory heard the leather of his gloves creak over the commotion of the Bottom’s markets, hawkers, and travelers.

Jack: Because all his friends are dead, and he doesn’t want to fight anymore. We’ll find him when we’re ready, or he’ll find us when he’s ready. A hundred years wouldn’t be long enough for me if you died.

The nightbringer started walking after Maggie again.

Erin: Oh.

A droning klaxon sounded three short bursts.

“Shite! That means the lift is gettin’ ready to head up,” Maggie exclaimed.

“We’ll eat at the top, and catch your kebab vendor on the way back down,” Jack replied.

“Time to ride the dwarf-a-vator!” Layla skipped toward the lift platform.

The platform itself was the size of a football field, with great gearhouses the size of a cargo van pressed against each of the four lifting towers. Dozens of people with wagons or livestock or both crowded onto the lift as it prepared to depart.

“How safe is this thing?” Rory cast a quick side glance at Maggie.

“Been standing fer longer’n five centuries. Built o’ magical steel alloyed wit’ ‘nough adamant ta bankrupt a nation. Enchanted with mighty self-repair and self-maint’nance functions. Mana engine deep ‘neath the platform draws Flame an’ Stone mana up from within the mountain, mixes ‘em inta Forge mana an’ powers the whole bit,” she explained.

“How the hell did the dwarves build something like this?” Erin stared up the line, toward the massive head that served as the receiving platform, nearly half a mile straight up.

“They dinnae. Legend tells the Lift were built by one hero, over six hundred years back,” she smiled slyly.

“How the fuck? Bullshit,” Erin and Layla responded simultaneously.

“Dunno, lassies, but I reckon a Chosen what mastered Forge ta the tenth could do it,” she grinned.

“What-” Rory started, but closed his mouth when Jack motioned at him.

The nightbringer looked around.

Jack: I hate feeling paranoid, but shouldn’t we be a little more subtle?

Layla: Finally, someone joins me on the Paranoia Express.

Maggie: S’arright, laddie. Nobody what followed us from Moryven to Split Watch carried on from Split Watch ta Bottom.

Erin: How do you know that?

Maggie: Cause me Mind is in the fifth tier, lassie. I have’nae forgotten a face in sixty years. I may have fergot ta mention me Observe an’ Listen are pretty brilliant as well.

Jack: So you’ve been watching for tails this entire time?

Maggie: Aye, lad. I cannae be havin’ yeh killed by yer own ignorance.

Rory: That’s… sweet, I guess.

Maggie: Ah’m nae here ta be her mym, Rory. Ah’m here ta help yeh live long enough to drop that twat Heleyl inta the sea.

The klaxon sounded again, this time in a long, warbling drone, then the Lift shifted beneath them with a great groaning crack that echoed across the mountainside. The acoustics of the platform somehow focused the sound away from those standing thereon, but the sound was still thunderous among the millions of tons of metal.

Slowly, the lift began to rise.

“Here we go,” Erin looked up toward the massive edifice above them.

“It’s nae s’bad, lass. Boring, mostly,” she replied.

“You! You’re the one that broke Gilvre’s arm!” a beefy grunt of a man burst from the milling crowd near the lift and took a running leap onto the platform, only a few feet off the ground now.

“Boy, they sure do make ‘em dumb ‘round here, don’t they,” Jack sighed.

“Aye, Jack. Tha’s what ah was tryin’ ta explain ta ya earlier,” Maggie grunted.

“Nope. No. Fuck this,” Erin broke away from the Chosen and bent down, nearly into a starter’s stance.

“I’m not having a fight on a giant fucking elevator with no guardrails. RIDE OF THE VALKYRIE!”

The dreadnought flashed forward like a freight train and shoulder checked the burly human in the stomach, launching him off the lift platform and out into the crowd.

Maggie watched as the tall woman catapulted the thug off the lift and grinned.

“Well, mebbe ah was hasty in me earlier assessment,” she chuckled.