Simon Garamonde and the Lady Forechance I

The black halls of Iax stretched on out of view, sunflower torches seeming to absorb more light then they cast.  Simon pressed himself hard against a column, and waited for the quiet footfalls of the patrol to pass him by.

He breathed shallowly, and tried to ignore the condensation sliding down the inside of his goggles. Their

Realm of the Forest King by `lone-momo

tourmaline lenses magnified the ambient light, allowing him to move easily in the near-abyss of Iax – but the leather strap was itchy, the sweat pouring down his forehead abominable. Simon desperately wanted to rip them off, wipe the lenses and mop his forehead with a free sleeve – but the movement would instantly alert the Tyr-Elves of the passing patrol. Their eyes glowed a clammy blue in the distance. He leaned his head back against the pillar, and felt the sharp edges of the stone.

Then he thought of her.

Really, Simon? Now? You are four miles below the earth, tangling with Shadow elves –show some decorum.

Simon grinned. A magic grin with a broken piece in it.

He turned his head slowly away from the patrol, so they wouldn’t see the shine of his teeth, or the light in his eyes.