by Al K. Line
I rolled down the escarpment and only stopped when I hit the base of a stunted, gnarled tree, as broken as my body had been. But there was no pain.
Gingerly, I moved my arms, then my toes, then my legs. I was whole, and I felt like a million dollars. Sure, I stank, my teeth were chattering, and my lips were dry and my throat parched, my skin blistered, and my back was sore as hell, but I felt magnificent. I sat up carefully, leaned against the tree, and got the backpack free. I fumbled about with frozen fingers and gripped a bottle of water. The cap was tight and I couldn't feel it properly but I released it eventually and spent the next ten minutes sipping slowly before downing the contents once my throat was working again.
Next step was to stand. Gripping the tree, I got to my feet and found that although stiff I had full feeling and mobility. I rubbed at my thighs and arched my back, did a variety of exercises to get the blood flowing and to loosen up.
I was whole, back to being Kate. Perks of being a magic-wielding, kick-ass vampire. Also one of the main drawbacks, as who the hell gets this kind of grief when they go camping? Hell, we hadn't even had the chance to burn any sausages or snuggle up in our sleeping bags yet.
The next hour was spent eating, more stretching, and getting accustomed to the night. As my strength returned so my eyesight kicked in. The world became tinged with green, tiny animals glowing orange as I registered their heat signatures.
Time to go pay a troll a friendly visit.
Knock, Knock
I crawled around the mountainside gathering everything up, spent several minutes with the trusty wet wipes, slung the gun over my shoulder, followed the route the troll had taken with my eyes, marking every rock, every hidden hole, nook, and cranny, then wound my way up carefully in his direction.
After a steep climb, I came to a terrifying overhang that left me dangling by my fingers with a mighty drop beneath. No, I didn't look down. I hauled myself up and there I was, on a large ledge covered in the carcasses of animals and several mounds of chalk. This was definitely a traditional troll. The city dwellers gave up on eating goats a long time ago, although you could never get them to give up the chalk.
The cave mouth was wide and high. Dark too, really dark. My eyesight was good now, excellent in fact, but when it was truly pitch black I couldn't see too great, and the thought of plodding in with just a torch to light the way didn't instill me with confidence. Instead, I decided to wait until first light.
Much as I wanted to just go gung-ho and bash some rock skull, if for no other reason than he'd nearly killed me, I knew that wasn't sensible and wasn't liable to get me answers. He had to have something to do with everyone's disappearance, it was too much of a coincidence otherwise. Trolls didn't smash around the woods like that, however daft they were. They had a set of inbuilt rules that governed their behavior and the fact he'd gone marauding meant trouble was most definitely afoot.
I huddled into a dark crevice and pulled the blanket over me, waiting for dawn.
Some time later, I came to with a start, cold and cramped, hungry and thirsty. I drank and ate and then crawled cautiously from my hiding place.
I stretched my back and looked down from the ledge to the treetops below. We were high, and it was beautiful. As birds stirred and sang joyously to the morning, I turned to the east and was witness to the most beautiful sight I have ever seen apart from the face of Kane moments after he was born in Grandma's living room. The sun rose over distant mountains, red and fierce, the bringer of joy, warmth, and life to the world.
Most vampires can't stand this sight, it sends them screaming for the dark, blistering and burning. Those under a few centuries old can function in the day and handle the light, but it gnaws at them, unsettles them. I loved it, and promised myself I always would. I lifted my head and let it warm my face, burn away the terrors in my mind and the tingle of fear I refused to acknowledge.
Then, smiling and feeling light and determined, I turned away from this source of all life and marched to the cave's mouth.
Light penetrated deep within because of the angle of the sun, yet soon it would be too high and if I waited I'd lose the advantage, so I rapped on the rock, whispered, "Knock, knock," then strode in.
A Fumble in the Dark
The cave stank, ripe beyond belief. Bones littered the floor and piles of chalk and other strange dusts crowded against the dry walls. It was disorganized and messy with many of the mounds of minerals trampled, the colors bleeding into each other, and it only got worse the further I went.
Light faded as I got deeper, so I turned on the flashlight. Nothing to see, just bone, dust, and rock. See, this is the problem with trolls. If they're still then they're hard to find, as they are made of the same stuff as the homes they inhabit in the mountains, so my nerves jangled even though I don't really get nervous any more. Yeah, that's what I kept telling myself.
He could be anywhere, be right in front of me, or beside me reaching out a huge hand to crush my head. I kept turning this way and that, shining the light at strange shapes and weird protrusions that came alive in my imagination. But it was just rock, nothing more. Deeper I went, until it was pitch black. A deep rumble grew in intensity, practically shaking the walls of the expansive cavern.
I followed the sound, down wide curved corridors, around bends, through large vaulted rooms with pillars reaching into the darkness. I cursed my idiocy for waiting until dawn; fat lot of good it had done me.
The rumbling grew louder, vibrating my bones and teeth, pounding in my skull like a giant's drum. And then I tripped over and found myself staring right into the mouth of the troll. No prizes for guessing where the noise emanated. I was almost deafened by his snoring as his chalk-tinged breath blew the hair from my face and cooled the sweat on my brow. Carefully, I moved away and stood. I shone the light down the length of his body, taking in the size of him. Boy was he a large one, bigger than I'd believed, and beautiful in his own way.
Strange lines criss-crossed his body, azure and deepest vermilion. Crystals glinted in the torchlight, and all the while he snored peacefully.
"Wake up, you big lump," I shouted in his ear as I kicked at his body, getting nothing but a sore big toe for my efforts.
I tried again, really loud this time, and still nothing but a grunt as he rolled over and snored. Next I poked a finger up his nose, but it was like pushing a straw into a wide-brimmed cup. I rammed my fist in instead and shone the torch right at his closed eyes. A heavy lid scratched at an eyeball then lifted. Slowly, the eye turned and focused on me.
"Why child wake Big Rock?"
"Because I want to have a chat. And you owe me. You nearly killed me."
Big Rock sat up with the sound of a cheese grater against stone as he slid his backside a little to face me, still sitting. He was taller than me even on his hard ass. "You child thing from other day? One in way?"
"That was yesterday, and I told you, I'm a woman. You nearly killed me," I repeated.
"Ugh, Big Rock forget own strength." He stretched and yawned, his body cricked and cracked like an avalanche, and I stepped back before he crushed me as he repeatedly lifted his arms up and down. What the hell? It wasn't like he had to get his circulation going or anything.
"What were you doing, lumbering through the forest like that?" I asked, squinting at him, wishing I could see better.
"Coming home," he said, like it was obvious.
"Okay," I said, exasperated. "Where have you been? Why were you out where humans could see you acting like that? It isn't how you're supposed to behave."
Big Rock focused his full attention on me and frowned, the rock shifting on his face like it would smash his brow to dust. "Had to get away. Bad things happen on mountain. Big Rock want comfort of home. Thought little woman was going stop me, so pushed away. Sorry."
"Damn, now you're making me feel bad." I scratched my head in thought, wondering what could have made him scared or worried. Trolls didn't get scared, they hit things with their fists and th
en the trouble went away.
"Sorry." Big Rock got to his feet, and he really was massive. He could crush me like a grape and I'd never be able to stop him. I thought about running away but wanted answers, so asked again.
"What's been happening? Why were you scared?"
"Not scared," he grumbled angrily, bending to peer into my face.
I backed up and raised my hands. "Okay, sorry. Why were you, um, going home then? What happened? Have you seen my friends? Seen other people?"
"Oh, seen lots of people. Bad things use people. Take people. Do strange magic. Big Rock feel it bad, make head funny. Keeps moving, never know where safe, best stay here, out way. Eat chalk." He straightened, then his face kind of shifted, almost like he was looking hopeful. "You got goats?"
"No, not on me. Um, so what is this strange thing? Who's doing it? What are they making the people they take do?"
"Not take people. Just use people. Come back but are mean, act odd. Bad vibe, all wrong in head and walk funny. Ugh, tired now, must sleep. You go away." With that he crashed down to the floor, pulled his legs up to his chest, and began to snore.
I thought about waking him up again but decided there was no point pushing my luck, so beat a hasty retreat to the welcome sunny day outside this strange home within the mountainside.
Seriously
I staggered from the gloom, the light blinding me as the sun shone low but directly into my eyes. I couldn't see a thing.
The air whooshed as if split with something very sharp, and out of pure instinct I dodged to the side. The sound of steel against rock rang out, followed by a "Get 'er," and several grunts as mighty weapons were wielded, ready to do me harm. All I could think was it was a good job I'd got a sitter, this would not have gone well otherwise. Not that it was going great so far. Another whoosh signaled something coming down at my head. I dodged again, and as my hair whipped through the air I felt the blade sail past my ear. A lock of hair blew in front of my face. My anger rose.
I whirled, facing away from the sun, and snarled at three dwarves with axes raised, looking about as grim and hairy as dwarves can look, and that's very grim and very hairy.
"Chop 'er head off," ordered a particularly grumpy looking dwarf. Like all of them, he, maybe she, was wearing the distinctive leather garb under chain mail. Each wore a leather belt rammed with hammers and chisels and spare weapons, had so much hair it was hard to see much of their face, and reminded me of stunted trees grown thick and gnarly, the tops lopped off when they grew over four feet.
Their weapons were huge, great battle axes no Regular could hope to lift let alone yield, but their massive forearms coped easily as they readied to cleave me in two.
"Um, can we talk about this?"
"What's there to talk about? Right, lads, first one to get 'er head can have extra ale this eve."
Seems like that was incentive enough and all three of them roared then charged, swinging as they did so.
In no mood for their games and, frankly, feeling a little put upon and wondering if I'd stepped into a weird fairytale, I let magic surface and sped from one dwarf to the next, circling behind and snicking off a fistful of hair from each of their beards before they knew what was happening. Then I raced to the side where I'd slept that night and shouted, "Hey, over here," and held up their hair. My magic-infused fingernails shone bright and as sharp as their axes as the sun glinted off the keratin. I let the magic fade and with it the sharpness.
"Why, you…"
"Oi, where's my beard?" asked another as he ran a hand through his trimmed facial hair.
"That's… that's not right that ain't. My beard!"
All three were astonished, incensed, outraged, shamed, and a little worried. A dwarf's beard is sacred, a sign of their maturity and their very dwarfness, and they abhor anyone touching it, let alone cutting it.
"Right, you lot. If you don't play nice then I will shave all three of you bald, scalp you, then kick you back down whatever sorry excuse for a cave you came from. Plus, I'll tell everyone you lost to a girl. A human girl. So behave," I lectured. "Or else."
They were lost for words. They spluttered and they commented on each other's beards, and did a lot of glaring, then put their heads together and discussed matters in their own language, fast and furious and apparently with lots of arguing. A minute later they broke from their huddle and said, "Agreed."
"That's more like it. Now, what's this all about?"
Their spokesman strode forward confidently, and not to miss out, the other two did the same, each of them puffing out their chests and still clutching their axes so they didn't lose face in front of what, after all, was a mere human female. "We thought you was one of them."
"One of who?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno."
"Eh? Look, why were you trying to kill me? Who did you think I was? One of who?" I repeated.
"Like I said. Dunno. One of the… er. What's the word?"
"One of the crazies," said another dwarf.
"Yeah, one of the crazies. Thanks, Badden Moltenhammer."
"My pleasure, Aberthol Sandygravel."
"What crazies? What's going on here? First everyone gets kidnapped, then the troll in the cave tries to kill me, now you guys. What's this—"
"Oi, I'm not a guy," said a dwarf that looked about as feminine as a tree dressed in chain mail. Wielding an axe. With a beard. "What's wrong with you?"
"Yeah, don't go disrespectin' our womenfolk. "
"Sorry, my mistake. Can you please tell me what's happening?"
Something shifted then, and I saw the sly glances they cast each other as they closed in a little, thinking I hadn't noticed. They were trying to double-cross me, the sneaky buggers.
"Um, sure. Why don't you have a little sit down and we'll tell you all about it," said Aberthol.
"Oh, okay," I said, smiling sweetly.
Their shoulders relaxed a little and I took my opportunity.
With a surge of energy, I swept past them, and using bare strength I grabbed hold of two beards in one hand, one in the other, and yanked. I'd expected to get a handful of hair in each fist but instead the dwarves came along for the ride. Guess the hairs were in deep.
I dragged them over the rock to the edge of the escarpment, then with them wriggling and shouting and trying to get a good hack in with their axes, I stepped right up to the edge and dangled them into the void.
"Your choice," I said sweetly.
"Fine," said Aberthol with a sigh.
"Yes, we'll talk," said Badden.
"We'll talk," agreed the female.
"Good." Then I dropped two of them.
Feel my Wrath
As they screamed and plummeted, I threw the female back then whirled to face her. She stared in shock at the empty space, then her eyes turned to me, hiding her fear. Dwarves seem to have the insecure gene mostly missing, but she wasn't exactly brimming with confidence either.
"Bone Cruncher will destroy you," she shouted, then kissed the blade of her battle axe and charged.
Sometimes dwarves are stupidly gung-ho. I simply sidestepped. She swung at air, lost her balance, and screamed as she hurtled over the edge.
Now, you may think this was all rather callous of me, but have no fear, I'm not that bad a person, honest I'm not.
With a smile of sweet satisfaction, and then a frown because I was wasting time and still no closer to finding anyone or figuring out what on earth was happening in this godforsaken place, I walked to the edge. I lifted my arms to my side, let my coat flap dramatically, the wind tussle my hair, then leapt into the abyss.
The dwarves were waiting for me below, looking abashed on the ledge I'd encountered on my climb up but they'd obviously not known about. I knew there was something off about these guys, and the fact they weren't aware of the ledge confirmed it. What self-respecting dwarf wouldn't know the terrain like the blade of their axe?
I landed with one knee bent then stood and turned, glaring at them. All
three had their heads down and looked sheepish. "Ugh, I've had it with you guys." I snapped the gun from my shoulder and pointed it at them.
They glanced around nervously but the ledge was only as wide as the three of them side by side. There was nowhere for them to go, nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
"I want answers, and I want them now."
"Fine, we'll talk, but not 'ere," said Aberthol Sandygravel, eyes darting in all directions.
"Where then?" I asked, already sighing inside as I knew the answer. "Don't tell me, inside the mountain, right?"
"How'd you guess?" he asked brightly. "We've just opened up a new seam and one of the tunnels we excavated led here, but this place is spooky. The old gods ain't happy 'ere and we've already lost good men."
"Oi," said an indignant female.
"Er, and women. Sorry, Llyn Sulfurkiller. We was supposed to come check it out, but we've lost two dwarves already. Let's get out of this terrible place."
I was impressed. Dwarves aren't big on talking, and long sentences are not their forte, so this was serious. I decided to stick with them for now, maybe they'd have some clues as they sure didn't seem to have any answers.
"Fine. Which way?" I asked.
"Over there." Aberthol pointed in a vaguely northerly direction toward a range of mountains maybe an hour away, looking wistful, pining for the comfort of the world underground.
They weren't keen on staying out in the open like this. Even those that lived in cities preferred to spend most of their time underground. It's why they love the Hidden Club so much. It has cheap booze, there's a good chance of a fight, and it's in the basement. What dwarf could ask for more?
"After you," I said, so off we went.
Feeling Antsy
For seriously stocky dudes, dwarves are exceptional climbers. I had a hard time keeping up as they clambered over boulders, swung across chasms, hung from their fingers and dropped to dangerous rocks below, all just to shave a few seconds off the route when there were easier ways to go. They were like wild mountain goats, sure-footed and confident in their surroundings. But there was a definite edge. They constantly stopped to search the area, staring at suspect bushes and standing motionless to peer into the gloom of the patches of forest we passed, never once entering even if it would have allowed us to make better time.