Chapter 40: Midnight Melodies

Outside the workshop was a corridor, and at the end of the corridor lay the workshop where the machine tools were displayed. Joann stood in the hallway, and faintly saw a dark figure staggering toward the machines, dragging a wrought-iron hammer whose head scraped the floor with a grating noise.

The figure tottered to the transmission device Tom had repaired that afternoon, raised the hammer high with both hands, and was about to bring it down with force.

“Stop!” Joann raised a hand and shot a prepared “Ray of Frost,” striking the shadow’s wrist.

Clang! The shadow’s wrist jerked, and the hammer fell.

Joann rushed forward, and with a sweep of his arm, the “Hand of the Higher Mage” gripped a dagger and stabbed toward the figure’s chest from a distance. The moment the blade touched the target, Joann saw the person’s face and hastily checked his attack, his expression turning somewhat strange.

“Tom, what are you doing?”

“Huh?” Tom blinked in confusion, glancing first at Joann’s cold face, then at the hammer at his feet, looking lost. “Strange, how did I end up here?”

“That is exactly what I want to ask you.” Joann pointed at the hammer on the ground. “If you cannot give a reasonable explanation for your attempt to sabotage the machinery, I will have no choice but to report this truthfully to Mr. Flint.”

At the mention of his uncle’s name, Tom’s drunkenness melted instantly into cold sweat. He murmured, “Mr. Vida, I really don’t know… Just a moment ago I was by the riverside relieving myself, when suddenly I heard someone singing. Next, I don’t know how, it seemed as if someone was whispering in my ear, urging me to pick up the hammer and wreck the machinery…”

“So you just obeyed the whisper in your ear, and tried to destroy the machine yourself?” Joann questioned him icily.

“That’s impossible!” Tom scratched his head and added guiltily, “When I’m sober, I’d never do something so stupid. It’s all the fault of that mug of ale—I was so muddled I thought I was dreaming. I figured if it’s only a dream, it can’t cause any real harm…” Sensing the suspicion in Joann’s eyes, the young dwarf anxiously swore, “If I am lying, Mr. Vida, then I am a bearded gnome!”

Joann nodded thoughtfully. Tom did not appear to be the scheming, skilled type. If he was telling the truth, then he must have been unknowingly affected by some kind of hypnotic spell, turned into a puppet by someone else, and nearly destroyed the transmission device himself.

If this was the truth, Joann could now understand why the transmission device had been sabotaged three times with no culprit found. In fact, the perpetrator was Tom himself, and the drunkard had no idea he was being used. After the sabotage, he would drop the hammer, return to his quarters, and sleep until morning, remembering nothing of his nightly deeds.

“Tom, take me to the place where you heard the singing,” Joann said quietly.

“All right!” Tom, now grasping the seriousness of the situation, had sobered up considerably. Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, he hurried outside.

Joann followed Tom to the riverside. They had not gone far before they heard that familiar singing. Looking in the direction of the song, beneath the turning waterwheel, they glimpsed two small, strange figures.

They were a pair of tiny water fae. Their light green skin was sparsely scaled and shimmered faintly under the silver moonlight. Their hair resembled deep green riverweed. Only three feet tall above the water’s surface, one wore a shawl woven from multicolored aquatic plants, her long hair adorned with a shell-polished clasp—she was clearly a girl. Her companion, bare-chested and clad only in shorts of woven waterweed, looked like a boy. Both water fae had pointed ears and webbed hands and feet. They frolicked across the moonlit river: sometimes scrambling up the waterwheel to sing loudly, sometimes prancing across the ripples in a joyful dance.

Joann was transfixed by the strange and wondrous sight. Tom, even more astonished, gaped until he could not help but cry out.

“Heavens above! By the Hammer! Mr. Vida, look, what are those? Two little faeries?”

Before Joann could answer, the fae across the river had already noticed them. They looked over, waved cheerfully, and called out in clear, melodious fae-speech, seeming to invite Joann and Tom into the water to play.

As the fae’s laughter reached his ears, Joann suddenly felt his mind blur. A strange compulsion rose up, urging him toward the two fae. Yet long years of mental discipline came to his aid at this crucial moment. Thanks to rigorous magical focus training, Joann’s will was far stronger than most. After a brief confusion, he regained his senses and realized the fae were casting a charm spell on him. He bit his lip hard, using the pain to shake off the enchantment.

Across the river, the fae girl with the shell hairpin, noticing Joann had resisted her companion’s charm, waved her hand and sent a greenish ray of light toward him, attempting to strengthen her bewitchment. Her magic was stronger than her companion’s, and Joann knew he would need even greater resolve to withstand her charm. Yet at that very instant, the eye marking at the nape of his neck—a sign of his unusual bloodline—suddenly opened of its own accord. A chill shot through his body like an electric current, instantly dispelling the fae’s enchantment and clearing his mind completely.

Joann did not understand what had happened. Instinctively, he touched the back of his neck, but had no time to ponder further. Glancing around, he saw that Tom, already enchanted by the other fae, was stumbling dazedly toward the Delin River.

Joann hurried to grab Tom, but his strength was lacking. Not only did he fail to pull Tom back, but he was almost dragged into the water by the stocky dwarf.

With a splash, Tom tumbled off the bank, plunging into the icy river. The shock jolted him awake, and he began to shriek, flailing wildly.

Joann immediately saw that the fool couldn’t swim, so he squatted down and seized Tom’s collar, shouting for him to keep still.

The young dwarf, now a little calmer, followed Joann’s instructions, freeing his right hand to grip the riverbank. With Joann’s help, he clambered back up in a bedraggled state.

Tom was soaked through, looking for all the world like a drowned chicken, his wet beard clinging to his face in strands. Sneezing and cursing in equal measure, he blustered, “Achoo! Curse those little faeries! Achoo! You just wait!”

As if in answer to the dwarf’s angry shouts, peals of laughter rang from the waterwheel across the river. The two little fae stuck out their tongues and made faces at Joann and Tom, then hand in hand leapt from the wheel. Two small splashes blossomed on the water’s surface as the mischievous fae vanished beneath the river.

Joann could not help laughing and sighing at the scene. Now the true saboteurs of the waterwheel had revealed themselves, but he still could not understand why the water fae had bewitched Tom to damage the transmission device. Was it merely a prank born of fae mischief, or was there some deeper motive at play?

Joann fell into thoughtful silence.