“Y-yes, it’s a fine shield. Thank you, Bohga.”

  “There’s the gratitude.” Bohga smiled “You’re very welcome, your highness. Sweet words will always carry you further than sour ones.”

  “What’s the white material in the chest?” Asked Siouxsie. At her observation, everyone looked within so see sheets of a virgin white material that looked like bedsheets.

  “Oh this? It’s another of my creations. It is fine material that has been bathed and washed in the remains of deceased gels. Once left to absorb the strange properties of the gel bath, the material takes on peculiar characteristics of its own.”

  “Peculiar in what way?” asked Hoxley.

  “It retains and rejects heat in the strangest of ways. The first is rather odd. If left in the sun, the material absorbs the rays and stays warm long after the sun has gone down. I have no need for it as the vents of the geysers keep my cave plenty warm but it could be advantageous to someone like you who sleeps in the wilderness.”

  “And the second?” Asked Robert

  “The second what?”

  “The second way that it’s odd.”

  “Oh! Oh yes! I did say there were two, didn’t I? The second is that its rather resistant to high temperatures. Exposure to fire seems to have no effect upon it, no matter how abundant or intense. Its only weakness is that despite being made of the same fluid as lyythium, it can be torn and cut. Ms. Hoxley, would you be so kind as to help me demonstrate?”

  “Of course.” Hoxley said, setting her pugil against the wall before standing next to the cyclops. He handed her the sheet before snatching a torch from its place on the wall. He took the torch and likely held it into the fire before returning, the oil dipped stick burning hot and bright.

  “Now you hold this end flat with one hand and hold the other against the and I’ll hold the other. The moment you feel too much heat, pull your hand away so that you don’t get burned.” She did as she was told and held her hand flat against the sheet. Bohga held the other end tight with one hand before holding the torch underneath the sheet directly underneath her hand! She nervously held her hand there as the flame flattened itself against the underside and pushed black smoke out to the edges. The others watched with amazement.

  “Anything?” Bohga asked Hoxley. The faun girl didn’t look troubled in the least

  “No, nothing!” Hoxley smiled. “It’s not warm at all, come see!” Everyone, save for one gathered around her and they held their hands over the lit space beneath the sheet. Their eyes bugged with astonishment. Morell looked to Robert who kept his distance.

  “Don’t you want to see this?” He asked.

  “I’m fine where I am. I’ll take Siouxsie’s word for it.”

  “It really is something!” His twin said excitedly. “There’s no heat at all and it’s very soft!”

  Bohga pulled the torch away and flipped the sheet over. There were no smoke or burn smudges to be found on any of the virgin material. The guests ran their hands over it as well to find it was still cool to the touch. Bohga then returned the torch to the wall.

  “How is this possible?” Siouxsie asked

  “I am unsure of it myself.” The cyclops admitted. “It is a strange anomaly of my experiments. Its construction was not my intent. Here, there’s enough for everyone, I believe. If folded and rolled, they should fit nicely within your packs. See here, Hoxley, I seem to have an extra blanket. Why don’t you take it since you have more body to cover?”

  “Thank you Bohga.” Said the faun girl as she bowed her head. “I’m grateful and will take good care of it.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” Each of the companions sorted out a sheet and wrapped it around them. Siouxsie took an extra and handed it to her brother kneaded the material in his hands. When the last of the sheets were given away, Morell pointed out that there were still several lyythium items in the trunk. “Are there?” asked the cyclops. “Ah yes, let me see.” The big grey hands reached inside and first produced half a dozen segmented pieces of shin, arm and forearm armor, each with leather straps dangling from them. He offered them first to the witches who quickly refused.

  “Witches don’t wear armor.” Siouxsie declined. “But we are grateful for the offer.”

  “I thought that might be the case but I wanted to offer anyway.” When offered to Morell and Prince Damron, they each selected a pair of bicep and forearm pieces and set to work on the straps to see how they fit. “The straps are fresh leather cut from the hide of a beast of burden.” He said. “I change them every few years.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Have you nothing for Hoxley?” Robert asked. It was then that everyone looked and saw that Hoxley had received only a sheet.

  “What would you have?” He asked

  “I’m grateful for the sheet and food in my stomach, Bohga. I would ask no more.”

  “Gentle and grateful Hoxley.” The cyclops smiled. “I would expect nothing less. And for that, there should be more.” Bohga reached into the iron chest and produced a great bulging bag. From that bag he pulled out a lyythium helm. It appeared to be made of many smaller flattened pieces held together with fresh leather binding. It was no different from any other helmet save for two large circular holes above the opening for the face. “Here. Perhaps this will fit you.” He offered. Hoxley folded her sheet and set it across her back before taking the helm in both hands. She tried to put in on but her horns were in the way.

  “I don’t think this is for me.” She said.

  “Perhaps try from the back. Horns first.” He said. Hoxley reached back behind her head and found the points of her horns, sliding them through the holes and down to the base where the rest of the helm fell into place. There were even indentations along the side to accommodate her large ears.

  “It…it fits!” she said with surprise.

  “It does? I’m so happy.” The cyclops clapped his hands. “I think these leg guards are far too big for the boys, why don’t you see if they’re more your size. There’s two extra arm guards as well.” Hoxley took the long leg guards and snugged the straps about her lower legs. Once completed, a pair of frost blue lyythium guards were protecting the fronts of her front thighs and shins. Once done she attached the wristlets that covered her arms from wrist to elbow. Each had leather padding within as not to bark the bones under the skin and they gleamed in the firelight with a frosty ethereal glow.

  “Bohga, they’re wonderful and they weigh nothing!”

  “Easier to travel with them on, yes? Here, I think there’s still a few things in the bottom of this old trunk.” Hoxley looked within and saw for herself. Lying diagonally across the bottom of the massive trunk lay a spear of the purest lyythium; a gleaming rod of the purest blue and a tip wider and longer than the ones given to the witches. “Go ahead.” Bohga said. “Take it.” Hoxley reached down and plucked it from the box. Despite its size, its weight was so minimal that it felt as insignificant as the smallest of twigs. The blade on the end alone was three hands tall with a sharp end fanning out to two wide, blade edges like an arrow head with two small decorative holes on the outermost edges. A few hand widths above and below the middle of the staff, a pair of disc-like bulges looked like grips that would keep the pole from sliding once it was extended and also protect the hands like hilts should someone strike a glancing blow with a sword.

  “I’ve never seen it’s equal.” She said, admiring the was the light caught the staff and made it glisten.

  “That is because it is the only one of its kind.” Bohga took the staff from her and held it sideways before attempting to break it. He grunted and strained to bend the staff that looked so small in his hands. Everyone watching thought the spear might bend or snap but nothing happened. Winded and tired, he returned it to her. “Quite indestructible. Like the others. It will never need to be sharpened.”

  “It’s beautiful.” she said as she stepped back to put some space between herself and the others. With a skillful quick twist of the wrist to get it spinning, she snatched it with her other hand and whipped it about as a deadly whirlwind. It was far lighter than her pugil and begged to be spun in such a manner that the air around her caught the holes in the blade and made it sing. She took several fighting positions, swinging it against an imaginary assailant. A wild diagonal slash, an upward thrust, and once reared high on her hind legs, a lethal downward stabbing motion that could’ve ended the mightiest of adversaries. This demonstration might have been impressive if not for Hoxley’s hooves slipping on the smooth stone floor and sending her sprawling and the spear rolling noisily to the opening of the cave.