by JA Andrews
“It’s really that bad?” asked Sini.
Douglon laughed. “Asks the Keeper who doesn’t dress like one.”
Sini opened her mouth to object, but he held up his hand. “You don’t need to explain to me. First you wear what they want you to, then people start expecting things from you. Before you know it, you’re trapped for the rest of your life in the cold throne room while people complain to you about things that aren’t your fault.”
“I’d heard the throne in Duncave was amazing,” Roan said.
“Who could possibly tell? The throne room walls and floors are covered in black obsidian, rough enough that it reflects no light. Something about representing the glorious darkness of the earth. But it’s too dark. I like the dark—all dwarves like the dark—but that place absorbs light until you can’t light it up. Part of what makes darkness so wonderful is that you can light part of it and the shadows will wrap around you and make it homey. In the throne room you can barely see who you’re talking to. How Horgoth can spend so much time in there, I’ll never understand.”
Sini glanced between Roan and Douglon. “It seems unusual to find people close to the throne who don’t actually want it.”
“It’s the weight of all that responsibility,” Roan said with a grimace.
“The throne changes a person,” Douglon agreed. “My uncle, Horgoth’s father, became High Dwarf when I was twenty. Before that he was fun, energetic, happy. But the weight of the crown crushed him. He had no time for Horgoth or me or anyone else. It destroyed his family and his health. He died young, leaving the throne to Horgoth when he was young.” Douglon stared at his plate, unseeing. “He hasn’t been the same since, either.”
“Don’t you miss other dwarves?” Sini asked.
Rass let out a peal of laughter at the other end of the table where she was seated between Alaric and Will. A fondness softened Douglon’s face.
“It’s not really a question of missing them, or of wanting to go. Sometimes life changes you, and the people you used to know aren’t as comfortable of a fit as they used to be. And people you thought you’d never want to be near turn out to feel like family.”
The same grief Sini had seen in Douglon’s face four years ago was back. It wasn’t as ragged as it had been. It had mellowed, but not lessened. Maybe it had worn itself in.
She looked away from it and focused on her pears. There was a sweet syrup on them that pooled on the side of her plate, and she pushed the last of the fruit into it. Down the table she heard Will and Alaric laugh. There was something grounding about them. Their faces were familiar. She’d never have thought the strange group of Keepers could feel like family. She’d been too close to Lukas to even consider it. But there they sat, more like family than anything she’d ever known.
She took the last bite of pear.
What did that make Lukas?
Chapter Twenty-Two
By nightfall it was obvious the elves had figured out how to feed themselves. Chirps and giggles and shrieks filled the evening. Sini watched with Rass and Douglon out of one of the cottage windows as the elves scampered up trees and skipped along the ground.
Two of the little elves tumbled into the cottage. One climbed up Sini’s leg. She picked the silver elf up and it snuggled up on her shoulder.
“They like you,” Rass said. “They know you’re the one who fed them.”
Sini smiled at the foreign little creature in her arms. He was humanlike enough that his strange-colored skin and chirpy squirrel-like-ness were mesmerizing.
“I’ll be fine for a day or two, uncle,” Rass told Douglon. “Will and Alaric need your help.”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” he said stubbornly.
It took more arguing to convince either Alaric or Douglon that this was a good idea, but eventually they did admit that, with Lukas’s activities in Queensland, being in the Greenwood with the elves—as long as they stayed well-fed—was probably safer than being out on the road.
Sini almost asked if she could sleep up in the elven house in the tree, but it felt too important, and she didn’t feel elvish enough. So, laying in Douglon’s cabin on a thin mattress of grass Rass had made, her mind went back to the sunfire.
Nighttime always felt empty. Occasionally under a full moon she could feel a little sunfire, but usually the night air was just empty. Tonight it was hollow and bleak. The thought of the energy she’d channeled settled into a cold lump. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that had she brought in much more, it would have killed her. And she’d have blissfully let it.
The truth of it felt like a betrayal. The sunfire had always been reassuring and safe. But now…
For the first time in her life, she feared that dawn was coming.
The next morning Sini was grateful for the shadows of the forest, and that gratitude left an ache in her chest.
The elves were like whole new creatures. They were sleepy and relaxed, scampering to the trees and drawing energy from them.
“An entire forest of nursemaids,” Douglon grunted. He tousled the hair of the nearest elf, who was curled up against a tree trunk. “This is a good development.”
He still didn’t seem perfectly comfortable leaving Rass, but after the dwarf had given a stern talking to the elves—and after they paid him little heed, rolling around on the ground, hanging from branches, or reaching up to tug on the end of his beard—Douglon was satisfied enough to leave.
Will wrote a message to the queen explaining about the elves and fixed it to Talen’s leg. “Go be pampered by the falconer at court.” He ran his hand down Talen’s chest. “You wouldn’t like the tunnels of Duncave anyway. Don’t get too fat while I’m gone.” He raised his arm and the little hawk burst into the air. Above the treetops the morning sunlight laced his wings with gold. Sini flinched at the brightness.
Douglon led them out of the woods, and Sini felt a slight nervousness that they would have to pass through the Elder Grove again, with all its power. But he took them by a different path and when they found Pest and the Barons the sun was still hidden behind a tall hill, leaving the edge of the forest in shadows.
Dalton and Pest were awake, but Goven still slept. His face was pale, but better than yesterday. Sini knelt next to him and set her hand on his shoulder gently. She cast out and felt his vitalle pressed up against the edges of the wound. His body was strengthening and healing itself. A pocket of darkness marked the beginnings of an infection.
He needed help, and Sini braced herself before reaching tentatively toward the sunfire. Her hand on Goven’s back trembled, but she fed the vitalle into him. In the dimness, the sunfire was easy to control. She did the little she could for him and cut off the light as soon as she could.
Despite Douglon’s complaints about time being wasted, Sini and Dalton cleaned the wound as best they could. Dalton thanked her over and over.
“He’s not out of danger yet,” she told him. “There’s infection.”
“Take him back to Queenstown,” Roan told Dalton. “He needs rest and medicine.” He glanced at Douglon. “But we’ll need your horse.”
Douglon watched Sini with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a handy skill you’ve got there, lass. Never thought I’d meet a useful Keeper.”
Sini smiled weakly at him, and caught Roan frowning at the dwarf. She mounted her horse and Dalton came up beside her. “My brother and I are forever in your debt.”
Goven stirred in an uneasy sleep.
“Don’t say that until he recovers.”
Dalton shook his head and looked at her sincerely. “He’d be gone already if it weren’t for you. You’ve given him a chance. No matter how this ends, if you are ever in need of anything, anything at all, I am at your service.”
Sini nodded and shifted in her saddle at his intensity. “I hope you reach Queenstown in safety.”
“As long as he’s not with Keepers, he should be fine,” Douglon grumbled. “I’m leaving. If no one follows, I’m going back to
Rass.”
Dalton returned to his brother and Sini nudged her horse to follow the others. Roan pulled his horse up beside her. “I’ve known the Barons for three years and that’s the longest speech I’ve ever heard Dalton give.”
Behind them the huge man hovered over his brother like a nursemaid. “I may only have prolonged the inevitable,” Sini said.
“I think Dalton would still be thankful to have a little more time.”
The trip north was hurried, with Douglon keeping up a brisk trot. The day clouded over early and Sini felt relieved to not have the sunfire pouring down on her. The entrance to Duncave was a long day’s ride, and Douglon wasted no time. They skirted the edge of the Greenwood, keeping to open land as much as they could, ducking through bits of forest when they had to. The Scale Mountains drew closer, and the deep gash in them that was Kollman Pass fell behind them by midday.
Sini hadn’t been able to shake her complicated emotions about the sunfire. In the afternoon she found Pest riding nearby. Grey stubble covered his chin, and his hair was disheveled, but his gaze was still intense enough that it bordered on alarming. To distract herself she rode up next to him.
“Have you ever…” she began and at the smile on the edge of his mouth, she continued, “thrown a knife and killed a dwarf?” She asked quietly enough that Douglon wouldn’t hear.
“Yesterday was the first time I’d ever met one.”
“An elf?”
“Same.”
She thought for a moment. “A goblin?”
“Still haven’t met one of those.”
“You’d want to throw a knife at one if you had.”
“Maybe we’ll get the chance.”
“I dearly hope not. Have you ever won a knife throwing contest?”
He considered the question. “Isn’t that what every fight is?”
“I suppose.” Goven came back into her mind, and the men killed the day before, mostly by Pest’s knives. The memory felt heavy, mixing with all the Roven she’d seen die on the Sweep in their endless, pointless skirmish. The futility of it all weighed on her.
“Have you ever cried after killing someone?”
He paused. “Yes.” He didn’t look at her. “Have you ever cried after using your magic on someone?”
The thought of Lukas and the small topaz rushed into her mind. Helping him pour vitalle into it, sewing it into the lining of the money bag that would be given to Vahe the wayfarer in payment for a new delivery of slaves. “Yes.”
She snuck a look at Pest. His face was flinty. “Would you do it again?”
His expression didn’t change. “Yes. Would you?”
She thought of Vahe in his wagon, trundling away with the leeching gem at his belt. How he had never returned. “Maybe.”
They did not stop for dinner, and night was falling quickly when Douglon paused. He held two strips of cloth from his bag out toward Pest and Roan. “You two will be blindfolded ’til we’re in. We don’t need random humans finding our doors and pestering us.”
“Absolutely not,” Roan said.
Pest gave the dwarf a flat stare.
“Then you can all wander around the hillside knocking on rocks trying to find the entrance yourself.” Douglon said. “I’ll go back to Rass.”
“Just put them on,” Alaric said. “It’s reasonable for him to keep these entrances secret.”
Roan glared at Douglon, but held out his hand for a blindfold. It took a direct order from Roan before Pest did the same.
Once the blindfolds were set, he led them to a rocky outcropping that looked like every other one they’d passed for the last several hours.
He swung down from his horse, pulled his axe off his back, and pounded the butt of it against a boulder. Nothing happened, and Douglon pounded again.
“Ragnoor, I know you’re in there, you lazy oaf. Open the door now, or I’ll report you to Horgoth for neglecting your duties.”
“Douglon?” a muffled voice asked. “Sorry, my lord. I didn’t know t’was you.” The boulder shifted and a dark split appeared.
Douglon stared into the darkness. “My lord? What’s gotten into you? Open the door far enough for us to get in. Hurry up.”
“Yes, my lord.” The rock shoved over until a wide doorway gaped open.
“Bring in the horses,” Douglon muttered to everyone. “Ragnoor will care for them while you’re in Duncave.”
“Horses? No, no horses. It’ll smell in here for a fortnight.”
Douglon ignored him and led his horse in. The others followed. Roan and Pest removed their blindfolds to navigate a short, winding tunnel. It opened into a clean cavern filled with the gentle orange glow of mosslight, the subterranean moss that glowed orange when wet. A younger dwarf, his golden yellow beard hanging only to the middle of his chest, directed them to a stable-like adjoining cavern.
He kept casting nervous glances at Douglon.
“What’s gotten into you, lad?” Douglon demanded. “You’re acting like a frightened sheep.”
“I just didn’t expect you here, m’lord.”
Douglon turned to face him. “If you call me m’lord one more time, I’ll knock your teeth out.”
Ragnoor pressed his mouth closed and nodded quickly.
“These people need to get to Horgoth,” Douglon continued. “They’ll be sleeping here tonight, and the moment they say they’re ready tomorrow, you’ll take them to see my addleheaded cousin. Not that he’s bright enough to actually help them with what they need.”
“But I can’t—”
“Ragnoor,” Douglon growled. “I’m not asking. If Horgoth gives you trouble blame me. Tell him I threatened to kill you if you didn’t do it. I am going to kill you right now if you don’t wipe that stupid expression off your face. You’d think you’d never had anyone come to the door before.”
“But you must go to the High Dwarf,” Ragnoor stuttered. “He’s ordered it.”
“Horgoth is used to me ignoring his orders. Find out what he wants. Tell me next time I stop by.” Douglon turned to Alaric, “I’m starting back tonight. Good luck with Horgoth. You’ll need it.” He stumped toward the exit.
Ragnoor bit his lip, then blurted out, “High Dwarf Horgoth is dying.”
Douglon froze and turned back slowly, his face thunderous. “What do you mean dying?”
Ragnoor glanced at the others. “He broke a leg in a fall a fortnight ago, and th’ leg’s sickened. He wouldn’t let the surgeon cut it off, an’ now…he’s dying. With no heir of his a’comin’, he’s commanded everyone to be on the lookout for you, m’lo—” he cut himself off. “Says you must come back to Duncave at once.”
Douglon stared at the dwarf, his face livid. “He is not going to die. He will not do that to me.” He spun toward Sini. “You, come with me. You will heal that sorry excuse for a dwarf before we have a nightmare on our hands. Get the horses.”
Ragnoor huffed. “You can’t take horses into—”
“Get us some food.” Douglon snapped at him “We have hours of riding before we reach those miserable royal quarters.”
Douglon’s expression sent Ragnoor rushing to nearby shelves.
Douglon snapped at everyone to get their horses. And Alaric nodded. “Let’s hurry. The world isn’t ready for Douglon to become High Dwarf.”
“I am not becoming High Dwarf!” Douglon yelled from the stable.
Douglon led them at as fast of a trot as the tunnel would allow. Even with mosslight lanterns hanging around their horses’ necks, the way forward was barely visible. The tunnels were smooth dwarven passages though, and the horses moved quickly, the echo of their hoofbeats on the stone floor almost deafening.
Sini rode behind Douglon, who kept up a constant stream of muttered curses and threats directed at the High Dwarf, the surgeon, and anyone else he could think of.
Her eyes strained into the darkness, growing gritty with exhaustion. Alaric called for Douglon to slow, and the dwarf snapped back that they were welcome to fal
l behind if they thought they could navigate the tunnels on their own.
It must have been long past midnight when the first hanging lantern came into view and they trotted out into a wider, taller tunnel. Several dwarfs stared in shock at the six horses running into the light.
Douglon hurried on, careening around corners, scattering groups of dwarves, until he raced into a huge open cavern. Dozens of tunnels of all sizes opened out of it, and the ceiling stretched higher than Sini could see.. Hundreds of lit windows around the walls looked like shopfronts on a city square. Small stone buildings were clumped together, encroaching into the cave from all sides and creating winding narrow alleys.
Douglon rode diagonally across the huge cave, the hoofbeats echoing more quietly and more chaotically off the distant walls. Dwarves scrambled out of his way. He galloped down a wide, straight avenue between larger stone houses until he reached a bright tunnel burrowing into the wall of the cavern. He swung out of his saddle and called for Sini to hurry.
She climbed down on aching legs, unsteady after the long ride. She leaned against her horse until Douglon shouted for her.
The tunnel was bright with a mosslight much more yellow that what they’d been using. Sini squinted into it and followed Douglon’s angry voice. The floor and walls of the tunnel were smooth, showing a perfect reflection of the hallway. Sini’s short hair was wild and disheveled, her face tired. Douglon stormed ahead.
Huge wooden doors lined the tunnel. Guards at one near the end bowed at the sight of Douglon before pushing open the door. Douglon glowered at them and entered. “That one is with me.” He gestured back at her. “And a pack of other humans. Let them all in.”
The dwarf guards at the door were big for dwarves, but no taller than Sini. They watched her with stern, disapproving glares, but let her pass. The chamber beyond was enormous and opulent. Columns of black rock rose along the wall, interspersed with huge, richly-colored tapestries. The stone floor was inlaid with a pattern of stars in grey and white. A carved stone bath large enough for ten dwarves sat along the far wall, and jutting out into the middle of the room was a four-poster bed, each post a stone column wider than Sini’s body, carved with fantastic creatures and inset with gems. Along the wall across from the bed a real fireplace, wide enough for a bonfire, held actual flames—the first Sini had seen since they entered the tunnels. Guards and servants hovered along the walls.