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The sky was perfectly clear. No clouds in sight. Yet, there was a rainbow, vibrant colors almost like neon, arcing across the sky. One end terminated in a coppice of trees not far from the river, about two-hundred yards to the west.
Nobody else around was near the river, except along the small dock area to the east that launched fishing boats and received small river freighters. People didn’t do family picnics or go for early morning strolls along the Snake Claw River.
And nobody went near that coppice of trees. They were Duke Huelmer’s property, a special species of yew his servants maintained and cut for aromatic firewood. Or so it was said.
Glenn squinted in disbelief. Apparently nobody but Stephi went near the trees. The elf maiden was on her feet, sprinting toward the rainbow, one hand clutching her cloak and the other holding the straw hat on her head. Her rapier bounced along on her hip seemingly in cadence with the undulating waves of her long, dark hair. Glenn long ago gave up pondering the physics of how she ran with watermelon boobs.
Petie flew tight circles above Stephi’s head, easily keeping pace.
Both Kirby and Glenn abandoned their fishing poles and grabbed their gear. Gurk only had to snatch up his cutlass resting next to him. Glenn had brought both his cudgel and round shield. A zombie had wandered upon them while fishing once, so traveling unarmed, with what Kirby called Wandering Creature Encounters being an ever-present threat, would be inviting a brutal death. Maybe eaten, or worse.
Stephi was over six and a half feet tall, but she ran with none of the awkwardness of an NBA forward. Her epic chest gave her less trouble than bouncing breasts programmed by chauvinistic video game designers. Kirby scooted along like a shortstop going for an in-the-park home run. Glenn, pumping his arms and stubby legs, lost ground like a dachshund trying to keep up with a greyhound and beagle on the scent.
“Marigold,” Kirby shouted. “Slow down!”
Glenn didn’t bother wasting his breath. If Stephi didn’t listen to Kirby, she wouldn’t listen to him. He was further behind and needed every ounce of air.
Stephi half turned, hardly breaking her stride, and signaled her friends forward with her hat. “Come on. Don’t you want to see it before it disappears?”
Disappears? Glen thought. Didn’t it take rain, or mist, or clouds combined with sunlight to form a rainbow? And this one appeared more tangible than any he’d ever seen. Of course, he was a lot closer to this one.
Stephi slipped into the thick stand of yew trees, and Kirby wasn’t far behind. They looked like massive pines but with rounder, fuller canopies. Glenn finally passed between two yews whose trunks were at least twelve feet in diameter. And they weren’t by any measure the largest ones.
“Where are you?” Kirby called in his croaky voice.
Stephi replied, “This way, Gurk. Over here.”
Glenn angled a little to his left, moving between the massive trees. Only a few scattered plants and shrubs grew beneath the towering yews. They blocked most of the sunlight, leaving everything in a twilightish shadow. It wasn’t unnatural, just a stark contrast to the sunshine he’d just left. Fortunately, his gnomish eyes offered superior low-light vision so everything appeared as if in full daylight.
As Glenn made his way toward Kirby and Stephi’s voice, he caught sight of shimmering light ahead. Literally every color of the rainbow danced across the pine needle-filled ground, the bark of the trees, and played upon his eyes. It wasn’t blinding, or mesmerizing, just spectacularly awesome. What else could a rainbow actually be?
Glenn found his friends. They stood, staring at the rainbow as it pierced the canopy and narrowed on its way to an open spot on the ground, encompassed by a small meadow area. There, where it struck earth, the colors roiled like a cauldron of iridescence across the lush grass. Bright and flashy, but giving off no sound, no heat. And the woods stood silent. No bugs buzzing, no birds singing, not even Petie.
“Dude,” Kirby said to Glenn, glancing to his left as the gnome worked to catch his breath. “You okay? You’re sweating pretty good.”
“It’s not sweat,” Glenn said, trying to make light of his perspiration while wiping his sleeve across his forehead. “It’s my gnome body crying.”
Gnomes were like a cross between a hobbit and a dwarf. He had skin the color of light tea, brown hair, a mustache and sideburns, the latter of which were even damp with sweat. Gnomes were many things, but neither sprinter nor long distance runner was on that list.
“What do you think’s causing it?” Stephi asked.
“It might be the Bifrost Bridge, from Asgard,” Kirby said. He looked to his right, up at the elf. With her two-inch-heeled boots, Stephi towered over him by a foot and a half. “Odin or Thor might be coming down it.”
“Thor?” Stephi asked. “Like in the Marvel movies?”
That wouldn’t be good, Glenn thought. Gods on this world wouldn’t be like movie actors with a script. They’d be just as likely to violently kick him and his friends aside—or worse—as to smile and wave hello.
“Maybe,” Kirby said, lack of confidence in his voice.
Stephi rolled her eyes.
“Okay, what’s your explanation?” the half-goblin thief asked.
Stephi stumbled for an answer and settled on, “Magic.”
Kirby laughed. “No, duh.” He turned towards Glenn. “Jax, what do you think’s causing it?”
Glenn furrowed his brow. “I think it’s fading.”
Kirby squinted up into the canopy. “You’re right.”
Within seconds the rainbow was gone. On the ground, where it had terminated sat a huge iron kettle, like what hung over a fire pit. Its shape reminded Glenn of a stout flower vase, one he’d trim the sunflowers and stick them in.
But there wasn’t room for anything inside. Glittering gold coins filled it to near overflowing.
Glenn looked up to see if any sunlight was penetrating the thick covering of yew branches, because gold, while shiny, needed light to sparkle. Except for where the rainbow had been, everything else was twilight, like it should be. Well, Glenn thought, he’d never been in a woods so thick that it was this dim on a sunny day, but this wasn’t a woods from his world. And there was a break in the canopy...
A shudder ran through the gnome.
At the same time, Kirby said, “Wow.”
Stephi leapt forward. Kirby tried to grab her, but his reaction wasn’t fast enough.
“Gold,” she said and scooped up two handfuls.
Above, Petie warbled and made whistling calls. Glenn understood the familiar because gnomes, according to the Monsters, Maces and Magic Player’s Guide, got two animal languages. It was due to their woodland heritage. When rolling up his character, Glenn listed one of them as “blue jay” on his character sheet. The bird must’ve been reflecting his master’s emotion because he was singing out, “Joy, joy, joy!”
For a half second, Glenn coveted the gold. Then he shook his head. Free gold? Nothing in the game world was free. His hand slipped to the cudgel hanging in the loop on his belt. It had silver wire imbedded in the business end. At the same time, he unslung the round shield strapped across his back.
Kirby must’ve had the same bad feeling because he said, “Marigold, put it back.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because, me fair maiden,” a piercing, cocky voice said, “that all be mine, and mine only.”