Like seemingly everything that was a product of dwarven ingenuity, the door was far more complex than it needed to be. Rather than a knob or some other handle to pull it open, the door had complex linkages bracing it shut, and intricate mechanisms to operate them. The central placement of one of the devices suggested it was more important than the rest. It consisted of a pair of scoops shaped to roughly resemble hands. When one moved down, the other moved up, like two sides of a balance.
Sorrel gritted her teeth. “I have heard of things like this. The dwarves and their riddles…”
“I tried moving the hands all around, but the door never opened.”
“There is probably magic. There is too much magic in this place,” Sorrel rumbled. “Clean the door. They put clues sometimes. When someone thinks they are clever, they like to give hints to mock you. They like to prove you aren’t as clever as they are.”
She and the twins grabbed scraps of fabric from the bits of armor and rubbed at the door. Soot settled into the fine lines of carvings, casting them in brilliant contrast. Sure enough, the etchings did seem to tell a story. At the far sides of the door, stout figures in worker’s garb were shown mining. The tale told was much the same on each side. As the scene moved closer toward the central mechanism, the bounty of the earth was further refined or became ingots. Ingots were melted and poured. Not until they’d reached quite near the center did the scenes differ much at all. On the left, the items being drawn from the molds were hammers and other tools. On the right, they were axes and shields.
“There’s writing all around it,” Wren said. “Do you know this language, Mama?”
“No. The dwarves stay away from malthropes, and I don’t care to search for them.”
Reyna gazed at the images. “It has to be magic. If it wasn’t magic, it would only matter where the hands were.”
Sorrel nodded. “Yes. With magic, what is in the hands would matter.” She shook the chain. “This needed my blood to work.”
“Let’s just try things,” Wren said.
The three of them piled things into the hands. Nothing seemed to work. Time ticked by. Sorrel became more frantic. Before long, the twins understood why. The wind from the outside carried the scent of the dragon. He would be here any moment.
“Maybe I can break it,” Wren said, brandishing his stolen pick.
“No. If you break the lock but not a door, the door never opens,” Sorrel warned. “We need another way out.”
She grew silent. Her eyes narrowed. Her ears pivoted. The twins looked up and turned to the source of the distraction. It was the soft buzz of tiny wings. A faintly glowing form buzzed toward them. In a smooth motion, Sorrel snatched it out of the air. Losh struggled in her grip, but she’d grabbed him so tightly that only the top of his head poked out from her fingers.
“Mama! That’s Losh. That’s our friend the fairy,” Wren said.
Sorrel gazed down at her young, then brought the little thing to her snout. She took a deep whiff that fluttered the little creature’s unruly hair.
“This one is your friend?” she said, eyes distrustful slits as she scrutinized the captured earth fairy.
“Yes! He helped us escape,” Wren said.
Sorrel glared at the little thing. “He helped me to be captured…” She loosened her fingers, and Losh plopped to the ground.
“Is that true, Losh?” Wren asked.
“Losh do job. Do job good. Losh job stop forest children.” The fairy pointed to Sorrel. “Forest children like her. Losh best friend now. Losh not capture again.” He flicked and buzzed his crumpled wings back into shape and flitted from the ground.
“What are you doing in here?” Wren asked. “I thought you were afraid of caves.”
“Dragon comes. Losh said Losh warn.” He nodded firmly. “Losh do good job for best friend.”
The mountain trembled. A roar that could shatter bone echoed through the halls. Boviss was certainly home.
“We’ve got to find another place to hide. We are out of time,” Sorrel said.
“Wait!” Reyna said. She’d not stopped staring at the door, working at its riddle. “Maybe this isn’t the end of the story,” she said, pointing at the pile of tools on one side. “This is all stuff that makes other stuff. Ore makes metal, metal makes tools. Tools make… anything that needs to be made.”
She pulled a leather belt from the mound of armor and hooked it over the hand. The hand lowered under its weight. The right hand remained high. When it reached a certain point, the left hand held still.
“You could be right, but we’ve got to solve the other side,” Wren said. “What do weapons make?”
“War, death…” Reyna reasoned.
“How are we going to put war or death on a hand, Reyna?” he asked.
“No, no…” Reyna murmured.
Sorrel gazed over her shoulder. The hallway was rattling with the heavy strides of the dragon. There were seconds remaining.
“Faster!” Sorrel said.
“Blood!” Reyna said. “The magic needed blood. Weapons make blood.”
She nipped the back of her finger and let a drop fall on the open palm. Though it was but a single drop, the hand began to slide down just as surely as the one weighed down by the belt.
All three of them tugged madly at the door as the dragon drew near enough for his furious breath to echo through the halls. When the hand reached its level, the door produced a soft click. The blood glowed brilliantly and vanished. Linkages shifted. Braces lifted. And just as the first curling flames lanced down the hallway toward them, the three malthropes and the fairy tumbled through the door.
Sorrel snatched the belt from its place and scrambled around to heave the door shut. As soon as it was closed, the linkages snapped and clicked to secure it.
Steep stone steps awaited them. For a moment, the way forward was illuminated only by Losh’s glow. They rushed down the steps just in time for a new light to fill the room. Flame wreathed the door. They bounded to the nearest landing and turned to the doorway.
The dwarf-made door hissed and sizzled. Boviss roared in anger and belched flame at it until it glowed cherry-red. But it held firm. They were safe from him. For now.
Chapter 12
The malthrope family and their little friend made their way through what seemed to be an endless sequence of narrow hallways and stairs. Losh perched between Reyna’s ears. His warm glow lit the way forward like a mining cap, revealing a passage that couldn’t have been farther from the grand cathedral that lay above. The roofs were low enough that Sorrel had to move at a crouch. The walls were tight and close, and still rough with the tool marks of their creation. This wasn’t a place to impress. This was a hastily dug means of entry and escape.
Losh clutched anxiously at Reyna’s long red hair and muttered to himself. Even sounds of anxiety were oddly musical in his native language. The mountain trembled as Boviss continued to rage in his lair above.
“It is all right, Losh,” Wren assured the little creature. “The dragon can’t get us.”
The fairy shook his head. “Not dragon. Cave. Cave bad. Tight. Close.”
“It must be enormous to you,” Reyna said.
“No. Sky big. World big. Cave small. Cave cage. Losh hate,” Losh muttered unhappily.
“We’ll find our way out just as soon as we can,” Reyna said.
“I am not so sure that we will,” Sorrel said, finally standing again as they entered a natural bit of cavern.
Her twins looked to her.
“Why not, Mama?” Reyna asked.
“We rescued you,” Wren said.
Sorrel adjusted the chains she carried. Her eyes scanned across the cavern they’d found their way to. The ledge the three of them were on was leveled a bit, but otherwise a natural outcropping. Unlike the rest of their escape route thus far, the way forward was not clear. There were no steps, no rungs. All Sorrel could find to suggest how the dwarves had come or gone from this point was a pair of stout metal ring
s set into the stone.
“Can your fairy friend see if there is somewhere to climb down to?” Sorrel said.
“What do you say, Losh?” Reyna asked.
The fairy nodded and buzzed down into the darkness below. As he flitted about, Sorrel crossed her arms.
“When I tell you stories of Swift, the stories end. Swift does something clever. Swift learns a lesson. And then it is over until the next story,” she said.
“Yes!” Wren said. “Maybe, now that you’re safe, you can give us the big long story we earned by—”
“Wren. Listen. What do I tell you about the stories?” Sorrel asked.
“That stories are stories and life is life,” the twins answered together.
“One of the ways that a story is not life is, in life, the story doesn’t end. You freed me from Boviss. That is not the end. There will not be a safe place for you or me. And the other malthropes? There will not be a safe place for them either.”
“What? No. Why?” Reyna said.
“Boviss is petty. Boviss is cruel. He will be angry that he lost me. He will make someone pay. If it can’t be me, it will be someone else. It will be the Reds and the Fennecs. He will teach them a lesson. Not immediately, but in time.”
Losh buzzed back up. “Losh protect desert children! Not let bad happen.”
“Losh is right,” Wren said. “We can’t let bad things happen to the malthropes. We only just found our kind. We can’t let them die. Not because of us!”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Reyna asked.
Sorrel looked to the fairy. “Is there a way onward?”
He looked to her with as stern a look as his tiny and pixieish face could manage. “Down. Not far.”
She huffed a breath and started to unwrap the chain from around her. “I will lower you down,” Sorrel said.
“But is there anything we can do?” Wren asked.
“It is enough you saved me. More than most could do.”
“But if we can save you, we can save them too, can’t we? We’ve matched every challenge so far!” Reyna said.
The little malthrope reached out to take the chain her mother offered her. The moment her paw touched it, the chain glowed brightly and leaped. The shackle clicked open, struck like a snake, and snapped shut around Reyna’s neck.
“Wh-what?” Reyna said, tugging at the chain as its links scaled down somewhat to become a more suitable size for her.
Sorrel took Reyna’s paw and turned the palm up. Blood from her clever solution to the dwarf lock was still tacky on her fingers.
“Oh…” the little malthrope murmured.
“We’ll leave it for now. Thinner chain will be easier to use. And maybe it will teach you that magic is more trouble than it is worth.”
Sorrel wrapped the free end of the chain around one of the rings and started to lower the loop of chain down. Sure enough, she heard it clink down against the ledge Losh had spotted.
“Down. You first, Wren,” Sorrel said.
Wren obeyed, sliding easily down the chain.
“But we can do something, can’t we?” Reyna said, carefully easing herself onto the chain.
“Climb slow. You do not want to fall. That chain on your neck will kill you if you fall,” Sorrel said.
Her second child made her way safely down. Sorrel followed, then set about swinging and looping the chain from the bottom to dislodge it from its anchor.
“Why aren’t you answering, Mama?” Wren asked.
The way forward took on a shallow slope. Losh led the way, though he drifted backward, eyes fixed on Sorrel as though in pointing out Boviss would take revenge on the Fennecs, she was somehow the one who had told the dragon to do it.
“Did I save myself? Or did you save me?” she asked.
“We saved you,” they replied.
“So maybe you tell me, then. What should we do?”
The twins looked to each other. After a moment, their expressions dropped a bit and they turned back to Sorrel.
“We hide in the tunnels,” Reyna said.
“Find food and water here, and stay until we can find some way to keep clear of Boviss,” Wren agreed.
Sorrel tipped her head. “That is what we should do. But is it what you want to do?”
“What we want doesn’t matter,” Reyna said. “What matters is what’s safe.”
Sorrel didn’t quite remember teaching that lesson, but it was parroted back as though they’d heard it a thousand times.
“Maybe, this time, you tell your mother what you would do if you could do what you wanted.”
The pair was silent for a few minutes, unsure of how to answer. When the answer finally came, Wren blurted it angrily.
“I want to stop playing the game!”
Sorrel gave him a surprised look. Even Reyna seemed surprised.
“Mama, we play the game every day. And every day we get a little better. It helps us learn to stay safe. It helps us learn to stay alive. But that’s all it helps us learn!” he said.
“That is enough,” Sorrel said.
“Maybe it is, but… maybe if we played a different game, we could do more than survive. Maybe we’re playing the wrong game.”
“Yes…” Reyna said, realization creeping in. “Mama, you played the game just right, and you still got captured.”
“Because of the fairy. I didn’t expect a fairy,” she said. “Now we need to add that to the game.”
“But that’ll just teach us to do what we were already doing. Just run and hide. Always. Run and hide today so we can run and hide tomorrow. Games just keep the same things happening,” Reyna said.
“The Fennecs and the Reds, they’re playing a game that’s keeping them scraping to survive and always fighting each other,” Wren said.
“They’re playing Boviss’s game,” Sorrel said with a nod.
“We’re all just playing our own games. Nothing changes if you keep playing the same game,” Wren said.
“We need a new game,” Reyna said.
“What will the new game be?” Sorrel asked.
“I don’t know,” Reyna said. “But it’ll be one we play with the Reds.”
“And the Fennecs,” Wren added.
“All of us together,” Reyna nodded. “And, at least at first, we play it against Boviss.”
Sorrel raised her eyebrows. “The Fennecs captured us. The Reds would not have us. Boviss would burn us to dust. You want a game that has us find a way to make friends of our enemies and fight a monster that has them both cowering in its shadow?”
“You asked what we would do if we could do what we want,” Wren said.
“That’s what we want.” Reyna huffed. “We just can’t do it.”
Sorrel stepped ahead of them, turned, and crouched before them.
“It is a dangerous game. A game we’ve never played before. And a game we don’t know how to win. It is dangerous. It is a bad idea.”
They nodded and lowered their heads.
“We will play it,” Sorrel said.
They looked up, a mixture of confusion and excitement on their faces.
“Really?” Reyna said.
“But it’s not safe!” Wren said.
“There isn’t any safe game anymore. If we want to be safe, we have to make a safe place. I do not like how the other malthropes acted, but they are malthropes. If I could have what I want, it would be to have you grow up surrounded by your kind. And besides, no one else will help us. And no one else will help them.”
“So what will we do? How will we win?” Reyna asked.
She tousled their hair. “We have until we reach the villages to figure it out. Now let us go.”
#
Boviss stalked through his lair. His eyes swept over the mounds of his hoard. Every nugget of missing gold, every weapon, every bit of armor that had been stolen burned at him. Jagged stone lay in piles beside his precious bed. Chunks of what had once been that hideous statue were buried among the gold and silver. H
e could feel that items heavy with enchantment had been shattered, broken, their mystic value squandered. This was an affront. It was disrespect that must not be allowed to stand. Flame roiled between his teeth as he approached the towering exit and cast his eyes out over the landscape.
“That insect. That scum…” he growled, fresh plumes of fire curling between his lips with each word. “I spared her life. I let her feast on my scraps. And this is how I am repaid!”
He’d baked and clawed at the wall through which the creatures had escaped for better than an hour, too blinded by his own rage to recall that it was the same blasted place that had kept the last wave of dwarves from crunching between his jaws. If he’d not been able to break through then, he wouldn’t be able to now. And all the while his fury had built. Nothing. No living thing in his long life had done something like this before. None had dared. None would have lived past the first motion to do so. But she had. He drew in a breath. Two more scents mixed with her own. They were similar to her own and to each other, but unique all the same. Family.
His eyes narrowed as he set them upon the patch of landscape he knew to hold the Fennec village.
“They offered her to me… In place of food, they offered her.”
He clenched his teeth tight. Flames shot in brilliant jets between them. Now his eyes shifted to the forest, where the Red malthropes hid.
“And she was of their kind. A child of the forest. I let them shelter in my shadow for so long. I allowed them to worship me and answered their most fervent prayer. I offered them safety. I offered them my protection. And this hideous act is their doing. They shall pay for this.”
His gaze shifted to the middle distance. For the moment, his focus was on the thoughts and considerations swirling in his own mind. The fury did not fade. But something new layered atop it. A realization.
“But not before I find her…”
Boviss spread his wings and launched into the sky. He would hunt the blasted creature down. He would stalk the forests and mountains in search of their scent. In time, he would find them. And when they were nothing but dust and bones, those like them would suffer. Oh, how they would suffer.
The Story of Sorrel Page 14