Interlude 25. Star Power

Meurig could not believe his luck. He thought being one of the "first messengers" was his moment of glory. And yet. Somehow. His youth and his understanding of rock cutting and his lessons in tunneling under his uncle Gruffudd all combined into him being given command over the detachment of youngsters braving Ashenvale. First weeks were hot, uncomfortable and dusty as they tested the assorted dust suits and reported on their shortcomings and leaks. Their words going back straight to the Enlightened One herself, as far as he knew. The returns were quick and many. Within the span of twenty days, the suits advanced from "maybe helpful" all the way to "don't leave the camp without it". And in this, he and his fellow dust-delvers were all deeply impressed. Maiden Gillespie spared no expense on figuring out the best protection for them. Even if the end enchantments required golden thread to be made permanent. Their suits now kept them safe from dust, cooled and shielded from the heat and their air deeply cleansed from every last bit of impurity. They could (and did, during the testing) dive into the pool of ashes and come out unscathed.

The protection was supreme. Beyond expected, beyond what they even thought possible. And so, they strove to go beyond as well. The entirety of tract was investigated, marked out and mapped in mere days, the best sources of ash marked, the limestone quarries scouted, the vats for mixing and casting concrete assembled with all possible care and haste. Their road would take what the Red Mountain spat at them and use it to regain their hold on the valley. But that would be the job of caster squads that were following. Meurig and his fellows? Their job was to scout, and scout they did. And now, Meurig was standing on the other side of the mountains. Their trek ended at the spot maiden Gillespie selected for the beginning of the tunnel, a small clearing and encampment erected there. A very respectful distance from the actual tunnel mouth, as required by Enlightened One. Meurig was one of the three dwarves who, with the aid of poles and ropes, felt their way along the edge of the ash pit and descended from the outer shell of it, down to the lands of Kraut, where the other end of tunnel was to be. Theirs was to mark out what was there, ensure everyone kept the distance and call in the maiden once all preparations are complete.

There were men on the Kraut side. This was expected, this was the workforce promised by the king of Kraut for the sake of the road. They paved almost to the mouth of tunnel, stopping at the distance mandated by the plan. And now, Meurig was talking with the oberhaupt Hans, discussing the last minute needs. "All clear and good, lad." - Meurig offered after casting a critical glance over the scene in front of him.

"Ja, we gut." - Hans agreed. His albish was less then ideal, but entirely sufficient to cover all their needs. Better then the paltry smattering of words Meurig knew in Kraut, at least. The man paused for a moment, then leaned over to the shorter dwarf - "Freynt, tell mir. The dame, ja, she need, uh... heflekh?"

Meurig laughed. Did lady Gillespie require courtesy? "Yer good is yer work, lad." - he proffered back - "Ye did yer part, she find no fault with ya."

He lifted the tablet, dismissing the maybe not quite reassured oberhaupt in favor of reporting his status.

"Ah'm good and done here, uncle Gryff." - he proffered into the tablet, holding it up to make sure the vista of marks was clearly seen.

"Getcha, hold one." - his uncle's terse reply came out - ".....Oh boyo. Switchin' now."

"Switchin?" - Meurig blinked, lowering the tablet to see what his uncle was up to. And immediately straightened up, blinking - "...Yer ladyship?"

"I've been told you are ready for the tunnel boring... Maurice." - the voice was clearly not his uncle's. This was, in fact, the very first time Meurig was expected to actually talk to Enlightened One instead of just standing in the crowd and listening to her words with bated breath.

"R-righty'o, yer ladyship!" - he hurried to confirm, stumbling over his words slightly - "Allus ready, yup."

"Good, good." - that did NOT come from the tablet!? Meurig and Hans both whirled around, staring at the woman who just appeared behind them, from thin air in all likelihood, because Meurig could have sworn there was not a single thing behind them a minute ago.

"Scout Maurice, oberhaupt Hans." - she continued, passing by them languidly - "...You all did good. We're boring the tunnel now. Don't look directly while I start, you will hurt your eyes."

Hurt eyes?... In five seconds, Meurig had his answer, as even looking downwards, he could vividly see the unreally intense shining drowning out even the sunlight itself. The sound was incredible - the deep bass droning caused by something he had no idea about, joined in a little while with the liquid sounds of LAVA rolling down slowly. Behind him, Hans swore in Kraut.

"Das?! Shteyn loyfn!?!" - his fellow managed, taking a few more steps back, the heat of liquid stone reaching them as the flow intensified. The space they marked out, the space that had to be cut clear of grass and covered in gravel? The reason for this space suddenly made sense to Meurig. It was the runoff stretch for the lava. Meurig just had to look. Lady Gillespie was standing directly in the lava stream, molten rock flowing around her legs, her hands cupped in front of herself, holding a... Meurig squinted. It was like a little sun, opened from one end. The end facing the mountain. The ray of light so bright it looked solid to him piercing through the mountain, more and more lava coming out as the hole grew. He swore and looked aside, eyes tearing up. Next to him, Hans grabbed him by the sleeve and led him away slightly.

"Geter im himl..." - he offered quietly - "Feuer fun feuers..."

"Got that right, lad." - Meurig chuckled - "The fire of fires, huh? Ah looked inta smelter, no flinchin. But she... dat's beyond fire."

And suddenly, everything quieted down. Except for tablet on Meurig's waist. "Maurice, damn yer guts." - his uncle's voice cut through reverie - "Respond, dammit!"

"Heah, unc." - Meurig rasped, his eyes still teary - "Whatcha need?!"

"It be done!?" - Gruffudd demanded - "We keep clear of tha mouth here, lest we get bored with the damn rock!"

Maurice looked over. Lady Gillespie was wading out of the lava stream, looking somewhat bored. He swallowed. "Yeah, her ladyship be done. Keep yer eyes peeled, tho, tha thing be hotter than goshdarn smelter goin' all out!" - he reassured his uncle.

"We figgered, on account o'lava comin' out." - his uncle snarked back - "Argyl's glories, thass what, five arpents o'rock?"

"Pret'near, unc." - Meurig agreed - "Had ta make it slope enough fer wagons."

The initial tunnel was supposed to only be two arpents, but measuring heights quickly forced a change in plans. If they made the original one, it would have to be a stair to be climbable. No good for wagons. Meurig worried when they made the measurements that this would anger maiden Gillespie, but she simply nodded and told them to mark the areas out for new plan. Speaking of whom....

"Haltn distanse. Tunel zeyer heys. Vet zeyn kil arop far tsvey vokhn. Nitsn tseyt tsu farbreytern dem veg. Ker avek fun lava." - lady addressed Hans, who was a little taken aback from being spoken to in his own language. Meurig received the translation a moment later - "Keep distance. Tunnel very hot. Will be cooling down for two weeks. Use time to extend the road. Steer clear of lava."

"Will do!" - he blurted out before even realizing what he is saying.

"Farshtanen, meyn firn!" - Hans shared his sentiments, apparently.

"Good." - she continued, pulling out chair out of nowhere and sitting down, her fingers ripping off the crust of cooled lava off her leg - "Any questions?"

Hans did not seem to have any, instead opting to gawk in awe. Meurig, however, had one. "Tha name of that thar spell, yer ladyship?" - he half-asked, half-wondered.

"Oh. That's stellaration." - she offered, still preoccupied with cleaning cooled lava off her feet - "If you want formulae, ask Rory for high energy magic almanac, I've described it there."

Stellaration.... Stella, huh. The stars? Mighty interesting, that.

"Yer ladyship..." - he began uncertainly - "Tha stars... might we be?"

Meurig was not sure what he was even trying to ask. Yet he wanted to ask nonetheless.

"The stars, yes." - she offered with a smirk - "Sooner or later, we will reach out for them, grab them and make them ours. Maybe even in your lifetime, who knows."

And that, Meurig decided, was a promise he could get behind.