B1 Chapter 15: Timmy

With all the commotion that had been going on inside the shop, none of the people gathered there heard the faint rapping on the door. It was small and uncertain, more a hesitant tapping than a knock. It was drowned easily beneath the hammering from the basement, the arguing voices, and the steady drip of water seeping through damaged boards.

Gwendolyn heard it.

Her ears twitched first. Then, her broad head lifted from where she had been pretending to supervise the chaos. She turned toward the door with a slow, deliberate movement, as if deciding whether this new sound deserved her attention. The tapping came again, just as soft, just as unsure.

She walked to the door and nudged it open with her nose.

Outside stood a small child who looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. His face was blotchy from crying, dirt streaked across his cheeks in lines where tears had cut through it. He stared at the bulk of the horse in confusion, as if unsure whether he had knocked on the right building or accidentally found himself at the gates of some strange creature’s den.

Gwendolyn lowered her head until her large dark eyes were level with his. She glanced back into the shop at the noise and bodies moving about, then returned her attention to the boy. She brought her face close to his, close enough that her warm breath stirred his tangled hair.

The child began speaking to her in a hushed, worried tone, as though he believed she might be the only one who would truly listen.

Inside, Boris laughed at something one of the gnomes shouted. Millie snapped at someone to mind the glass. Belladonna was mid-sentence when Gwendolyn suddenly turned back toward the room and began neighing sharply, the sound cutting through everything.

“What is it, girl?” Modivar asked, his head lifted immediately.

Gwendolyn stamped once and neighed again, louder this time.

Modivar felt the meaning settle into his mind like a word he had always known. “Old Man Jenkins is trapped in the mines?” he asked slowly.

The horse neighed in firm confirmation.

Modivar blinked. “How the hell do I understand you?” he demanded, looking around at the others.

Belladonna frowned and rubbed at her temple. “No, that wasn’t just you,” she said. “We all did. The Codex has to be conveying the meaning of her words to everyone. That shouldn’t even be possible unless she’s triggering something new.” She trailed off, her expression sharpening. “But Old Man Jenkins is… wait. Timmy, are you out there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” a tiny voice answered.

The boy stepped out from behind the horse. He ducked instinctively as though expecting to be scolded for entering without permission.

Up close, he looked even smaller than he had in the doorway. He leaned heavily on a crude wooden crutch that had clearly been carved in a hurry. One leg was splinted poorly with mismatched boards and cloth that had once been white. His shirt hung loose on a body that had never known a full meal for long. A bruise darkened one eye, and the other darted nervously around the room at all the adults and the strange sight of a horse standing as if she were part of the conversation.

Modivar felt something tighten in his chest that hadn’thing to do with his curse.

Belladonna crouched so she was closer to the boy’s height. Her voice softened. “Wait. Did you say your grandpa’s name to the horse?”

Timmy shook his head quickly. “No. I just said Grandpa was… is missing.” His voice wobbled, but he forced it steady. “Can you help me? Grandpa’s missing. He hasn’t been back in a day, and I’m worried. Bruno watches over me when Grandpa goes to the mines, and I sleep in the upper shop when he’s gone. But Grandpa always comes back when he says he will. He always does.”

Boris and Millie exchanged a glance that held a flicker of guilt. The saloon had been loud the night before. Too loud.

Timmy swallowed and continued, “He said he’d be back this morning. He’s always back in the morning. He brings me bread if he finds any coin. He tells me if he thinks he’s close to something good. He didn’t come back.” His small hand tightened around the crutch. “I’m worried. Can you go find him for me?”

The room seemed to still for a moment.

“We’ll figure out how Gwendolyn is communicating another time,” Belladonna said as she rose to her full height. Her tone shifted, losing its softness. “I’m going to the mines.”

Boris stepped forward at once. “I’m coming with you, Bella.”

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Belladonna turned on him with a look that brooked no argument. “No, you’re not. You’re not a classer. If something’s actually happening down there, I’m the only one here who can deal with it. Those mines are a death trap. Old Man Jenkins has been digging into those hills for years. Probably longer than any of us have even been here. If he finally broke into something he shouldn’t have, it won’t be loose gravel and bad air.”

“And…” Modivar began.

He straightened despite the tightness in his chest, drawing himself up to his full height. The movement cost him more than he let show. “You’re not the only classer anymore. I’ll go with you.”

Belladonna’s eyes snapped to him. “No. You’re dying.”

Modivar met her gaze evenly, his voice calm but unyielding. “So what? I’m max level. I’m still the strongest person in this place. If something down there can kill you, it can kill anyone else here twice as easily. And I highly doubt there’s anything in this region strong enough to kill me outright other than the curse that’s already doing the job.”

He gestured toward Gwendolyn, who stood tall and alert now, her earlier laziness gone. “Also, she’s here. If there are monsters down there, it would be good for her to gain some levels. She’s a knight-mare. That means something.”

Everyone in the room turned to look at the horse.

Gwendolyn lifted her head slightly, as if accepting the weight of their expectations.

Belladonna exhaled through her nose and ran a hand through her hair. “You know what?” she said at last. “That’s not a terrible idea. If this is a dungeon breach, we’re going to need more than bravado and a shovel.”

Timmy looked up at all of them, his small face tightening with a fury far too old for someone his age.

“Are you really talking about this right now?” he demanded. His voice cracked, but he didn’t look away. “My grandpa is missing. He could be dead, for all you know, and you’re standing here talking about levels, and monsters, and what’s good for the horse. What’s wrong with you people?”