Red

by Liesl Shurtliff

  “Goodness, I never thought there was a time before humans,” said Goldie.

  Borlen scoffed. “Yes, your species thinks quite highly of itself. Think you’re kings of the world, don’t you? But many noble creatures existed long before you. Your wolf friend comes from a line as ancient as dwarves’, and I daresay we’ll both still exist long after you run yourselves into extinction. We have gathered more knowledge about the mysteries of the earth than even the most learned humans, even more than witches.”

  True, said Wolf.

  “Well, you don’t have to be smug about it,” I said to Wolf.

  Finally we began to ascend, at last going up instead of in and through and around.

  Goldie stumbled and fell at my side. I helped her up, but she resisted and slumped against the side of the tunnel.

  “I can’t…,” she whined.

  “We’re almost there. Look! I can see light!”

  I helped Goldie to her feet, and she leaned on me as we walked toward the pinpoint of light ahead of us.

  CRREEEAAKK!

  Borlen cursed under his breath. “Hurry,” he hissed. “These tunnels can be precarious close to the surface.”

  We walked as quickly as we could, and the circle of light got bigger and brighter. Pebbles and dust trickled down on us from the ceiling. And then the walls groaned some more and larger rocks started to fall, rocks as big as my head.

  “Back! Go back!” Borlen shouted, and we turned to run the other direction. The rocks continued to rain down on us. Borlen dropped the lantern and everything went dark.

  “I can’t see— Ouch!” said Goldie.

  Wolf yelped, and Borlen gasped and groaned, but even though I could sense the rocks coming down on me, I felt no pain.

  My cloak. It was protecting me, just as it had protected me against the bear and the sprites.

  “Everybody come to me!” I shouted. Goldie and Wolf immediately came and crawled beneath my cloak, but Borlen did not.

  “Borlen!” I shouted. I reached out blindly, flapping my arms around until I slapped his head.

  “Don’t touch me— Agh!” He gasped as more rocks came down.

  “I’m sorry, but this is for your own good.” I snatched him by the beard and jerked him to me, then spread my cloak over everyone while the rocks showered down. They bounced and rolled off my hood like giant hailstones, and then they grew smaller and fewer until there was nothing more than trickles of dust.

  “Is everyone all right?” I asked.

  “I th-think so,” squeaked Goldie.

  “Wolf?” I asked. I felt his nose touch my hand.

  “Borlen?” There was a muffled grunt.

  “Oh! Sorry!” said Goldie. She shifted, and Borlen gasped for breath. “Are you all right?” Goldie asked.

  “Stupid girl, nearly suffocated me to death. Come on,” said Borlen. “This way.”

  “Which way?” said Goldie. “I can’t see a thing.”

  “Follow my voice. Keep your hands to the wall,” said Borlen.

  “I think we should all stay close to Red,” said Goldie. “Just in case there’s another cave-in.”

  “If you keep quiet and move, there won’t be one,” snapped Borlen.

  “Still, it’s safer with Red.” Goldie took my hand, and Wolf brushed up against my side, and I was glad it was dark, otherwise they would have seen my eyes getting wet. No one had ever told me they felt safer with me before.

  We turned a corner, and there was light! Just a faint glow at first, but it got stronger as we walked. I looked at the state of us. We were all covered in dust. Wolf was no longer black, but ashy gray. Goldie’s golden curls were grayish brown, but even though my cloak was no longer red, it didn’t have a single tear. It was still whole.

  We reached a dwarf-sized door. Borlen knocked, and in a few moments another dwarf opened it. This dwarf had twinkly blue eyes, much merrier than Borlen’s, and a snowy white beard that reached to his potbelly.

  “Borlen!” said the dwarf. “Where in rubies have you been?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Too Hot, Too Cold, Juuuuust Right

  “There was a cave-in,” said Borlen, still breathing hard. “Tunnel two hundred and three.”

  The white-bearded dwarf clicked his tongue. “Third time this century. I suppose we’ll have to dig it out again. And what do we have here? A wolf, I see. And humans! Dear Borlen, what are you thinking? You hate humans.”

  “I don’t so much anymore,” said Borlen sheepishly.

  “Of course you do,” said the round dwarf. “They took your beard, didn’t they?”

  “Twice,” I said.

  “Ha!” The dwarf seemed greatly amused. “I’m Rubald. It’s a pleasure to meet you, so long as you don’t take me by my beard.” He chuckled heartily. “Come in! Come in before the rest of the tunnel comes down.”

  Borlen stepped through the door, followed by Wolf, Goldie, and then me. The ceiling of the entryway was so low I had to hunch over to get in. Eventually it opened up to a larger room just tall enough for me to stand straight, if I didn’t mind the roots that dangled from the ceiling brushing the top of my head. The walls were veined with larger tree roots, so we couldn’t be too far underground. The sight made me hungry for sky and open space.

  Another dwarf stood in the cavern, stirring something in a kettle over a fire. Stewed sapphires, perhaps? Garnet goulash?

  “Rumelda! Look who showed up!” said Rubald.

  The dwarf by the fire turned around. She had long hair and a round, leathery face, with dark eyes like Borlen’s, only hers were softer and warmer.

  Rumelda immediately rushed to Borlen and enveloped him in her arms. “My baby! We were so worried.”

  Borlen tolerated the hug with as much patience as a wriggly toddler. “I’m fine, Mother. Let me go!”

  “Your mother!” exclaimed Goldie.

  Borlen’s mother looked up at Goldie, and her gaze sharpened. “Borlen, my child, why under earth did you bring humans to our home? You hate humans.”

  “They took him by the beard!” said Rubald cheerfully.

  “Oh, not again,” Rumelda chided. “Didn’t you learn anything the last time this happened? I’ve told you every day for over two hundred years, you mustn’t go aboveground! Rubald, can’t you talk some sense into your son?”

  “We can’t keep him in the cradle forever, Rumelda, dear,” said Rubald. “He has to walk on his own two feet sometime, even if it is aboveground.”

  “But he’s frightfully young for such ventures,” said Rumelda. “Children reach their hundreds and think they’re all grown up and ready to take on the world!”

  “How old are you?” Goldie asked, and although I suspected it wasn’t very polite to ask, I was curious, too.

  “I’m two hundred and seventy-six,” said Borlen indignantly.

  “Impossible!” protested Goldie. “No one can live that long.”

  “Huh,” said Rubald. “I’m nine hundred and three, and Rumelda’s about to crack a thousand.”

  “Golly grasshoppers!” said Goldie. “You’re older than trees! Red, did you know dwarves could live that long?”

  “No, I didn’t,” I said.

  “Rubald, it isn’t polite to speak of a dwarf’s age in front of the humans,” chided Rumelda. “It makes them feel perishable.”

  “Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Rubald, but I wasn’t offended. My mind buzzed with their centuries of life. Could dwarves live forever? Was there a secret to their long lives? One they might share?

  “You must be starving,” said Rumelda.

  In the center of the room was a squat stone table and three chairs. On the table were three bowls.

  “I’m starving!” Goldie ran to the table, snatched a bowl, and started guzzling, then immediately spat out whatever she’d just eaten. Tiny pebbles shot across the room.

  “Oh, no, that’s far too gravelly!”

  She took the next bowl and tried to take a sip but abruptly put it down.
<
br />   “Rock solid!”

  “Try this one, dear.” Rumelda set another bowl on the table. It was full of grayish-brown goop.

  Goldie took a sip and smacked her lips, then drained the bowl in five seconds and finished with a belch. “It could use a touch of honey, but it slides down well.”

  The three dwarves gaped at her.

  “Why don’t we sit down for supper?” said Rumelda, politely ignoring Goldie’s rudeness.

  “Oh, yes, my legs are about to fall off.” Goldie flopped herself in one of the chairs and squirmed, then moved to another. She tested all the chairs until she settled in a little golden rocker and relaxed. “Oh, yes. Yes, this is perfect.” She rocked back and forth.

  “But…but…,” stuttered Borlen.

  “There, there, dear,” said Rumelda. “I’ve made your favorite tonight. Roasted sapphires.”

  “That’s not my favorite,” said Borlen, and I knew he was wishing for rubies. Granny’s ring seemed to prick my chest.

  Meanwhile, Rumelda served Borlen and Rubald the sapphires like a pile of roasted vegetables, then dished out three bowls of the goopy stuff Goldie had slurped up before. They called it strolg. “Your weak stomachs can’t handle our gems, I know,” said Rumelda. “But any creature can eat strolg, even wolves.”

  The strolg was a very salty sort of porridge with a dusty aftertaste, but at least it went down easily. Goldie downed another bowl in five seconds and asked for more, after which she launched into her usual heap of questions.

  “Do dwarves only eat gems, or do you have other foods as well, such as wood chips? Coal? And how does that affect your…inner workings?”

  The dwarves’ cheeks became noticeably red.

  I choked on the strolg. “Goldie, you can’t ask that.”

  “Why not? Mummy says if there’s something we don’t know, we should always ask, otherwise how would we learn anything?”

  “I don’t think that advice includes questions about anyone’s inner workings.”

  “Of course it does. How many living things do you know that can eat rocks? I find it fa—ah—ascinating,” Goldie yawned. “Excuse me, I’m so sleepy all of a sudden.”

  “You are welcome to rest in one of our beds,” said Rubald, “though you may not find them to your liking.”

  The dwarf beds were actually little alcoves carved right into the walls. Goldie crawled into one and quickly got out. “How can anyone sleep there? I can feel the rocks poking me.”

  “Works out the kinks in my back,” explained Rubald.

  Goldie crawled into the next alcove and promptly slid out because the stones were so smooth. “That doesn’t seem safe.”

  “I’m a light sleeper,” said Rumelda.

  Borlen piped up, “Just stay out of my—”

  But Goldie had already crawled into the third bed, which was the smallest, and she immediately curled up into a ball and wrapped her shawl around her like a blanket. “Oh, yes, this is cozy.” She was asleep in moments.

  Borlen looked dumbfounded. “There’s a human in my bed.”

  Rubald laughed gleefully.

  “There, there, Borly, dear,” cooed Rumelda. “I’ll make you a cozy bed on the floor next to mine.”

  With Goldie asleep, it became very quiet, and I realized that all three dwarves had their attention on me.

  “So,” said Rubald. “What brings you to our caverns? Only a very knowledgeable human would know to take a dwarf by the beard, and only a very strange request would bring you through our caves.”

  “I asked Borlen to take me to the enchanted castle,” I said, “to find The Red Roses.”

  Rubald nodded. “We dwarves have long admired the castle. The gargoyles have ruby eyes, and it’s said to be full of magical wonders, such as The Red Roses that you seek.”

  “Then you’ve used them!” I said excitedly. “That’s why dwarves live so long, isn’t it?” Oh, it would be perfect knowing that one could use the roses without too many ill effects. Maybe the enchantment was what made the dwarves eat rocks. That would be okay, wouldn’t it? Eating rocks in order to live longer seemed a fair trade. Or maybe the roses were what made the dwarves dwarves. Would Granny mind being a dwarf and eating rocks? Would I?

  But Rubald shook his head. “Dwarves have long lives naturally. We’ve never desired eternal life, so we don’t seek it. Our gems keep us strong for a good long time. When we reach the end, we’re content to go to sleep and turn to dust and stone, maybe even gems.”

  I made a face. “So…dwarves eat each other?”

  Rubald laughed. “When humans die, they turn to dirt and all kinds of edible plants that grow out of the dirt. So I suppose you could say we’re all eating each other. Life moves in continuous circles.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way,” I said. “Not when someone dies.”

  “Let me show you something.” Rubald walked behind me and stood directly in front of a wall. I hadn’t noticed before, but the walls of the cave were covered with drawings and writing: maps, drawn with astonishing detail. There were paths twisting around trees, climbing mountains, and reaching to different destinations, most of which I’d never heard of, such as The Boiling Bogs and The Serpentine Seas and The Hidden Islands. Some paths had written directions, such as Take seven steps to the left after reaching the cliffs and Don’t eat the yellow berries. Poison. It reminded me of Granny’s table, with all her recipes etched into the wood.

  I traced my path to the stream where I had met Borlen, down the river and the mountain to The Wine Well, which was also marked, and then back up the river to where we were now, in Dwarf Caverns and, more specifically, HOME, marked with a circle and a red X.

  Farther down the wall, I found my home. There was the village, the mine, and even Granny’s house—a little cottage labeled The Witch of The Woods.

  I placed my hand over Granny’s house and felt a deep pang of missing her. How much deeper would the hurt be if she were gone forever!

  “You humans seem to fear the end of life,” said Rubald, as though he were reading my thoughts. “It is a curse to you, no?”

  “It’s…not a pleasant thing,” I said. “If there were a way to keep living, I think that would be better.”

  “And so you seek The Red Roses,” said Rubald.

  “I seek a way to save Granny,” I said. “We tried The Wine Well, but that went all wrong. Goldie drank the wine and lost a bit of her memory, you see.”

  “Borlen!” shouted Rumelda. “Did you send these girls to The Wine Well on purpose?” Borlen looked away from his mother, face flushed. “You naughty little dwarf! You knew what would happen if they drank it!”

  “So?” he said. “They took me by the beard!”

  “And that’s your own fault for going aboveground. No, you apologize this instant.” She grabbed him by the beard herself and set him down before me.

  Borlen glared at his feet in defiance. “Sorry,” he spat.

  “If anyone should apologize, it’s me,” I said. “It was rude of me to take you by the beard. I realize that now. But I still need your help. You mentioned another way, too, besides The Red Roses. You called it The Magic Hearts? But I don’t see that anywhere on the map.”

  Rubald stiffened. Rumelda gasped. “Borlen, you didn’t!”

  Borlen crossed his arms. “I didn’t tell her anything except a name, and besides, there’s nothing to tell. We don’t know any more than that, not really.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Do the hearts exist?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Rubald. “But…” Rubald glanced at the maps. “I’m not certain The Witch of The Woods would prefer that particular magic. What do you think, Borlen? You met her.”

  Borlen’s eyes narrowed at Rubald.

  “What do you mean? You don’t mean Granny…”

  “Didn’t she ever tell you about a dwarf she once met and took by the beard?”

  I nodded. “You mean it was…”

  “It was Borlen!” said Rumelda. “Must
have been seventy years ago, when Borlen was just out of the cradle—little troublemaker snuck away from me the first chance he got, and then got caught by a witch!”

  “She stole my gems!” said Borlen.

  “That’s not right,” I said. “Granny said the dwarf stole gems from a prince! Granny was just taking them back.”

  “The prince stole the gems from me,” snapped Borlen. “So I was taking them back from the prince, and then your dear granny took me by the beard and made me give them to her!”

  “Why would a prince steal gems? He’s a prince.”

  Borlen raised one eyebrow. “Have you never heard of a greedy royal?”

  I swallowed my words. I certainly had. King Bartholomew Archibald Reginald Fife was as greedy as they come. His greed had nearly destroyed The Kingdom. It completely destroyed him, but that is a different tale.

  “Your granny wouldn’t even listen to my side of the story,” said Borlen.

  My head whirled. Granny hadn’t told me any of this. I was starting to wonder what other things I didn’t know about Granny.

  “I’m sorry my granny caused such trouble for you. I’m sorry I caused so much trouble.”

  Borlen gave a grunt that sounded like an acceptance of my apology.

  “Now, what of The Magic Hearts? Can you tell me anything?”

  Rubald and Rumelda shared a look. “We’ve only heard rumors, so we know nothing for certain. Only those who have actually used the magic would know.”

  “It’s Borlen’s bedtime,” said Rumelda, clearly ready to end the conversation. “You’ve had far too much excitement for one day.” Borlen grumbled and yawned at the same time.

  Wolf was curled up near the fire, and Goldie was snoring in Borlen’s bed. Rumelda placed a slab of rock at the side of her bed for Borlen, then tucked him in among flat stones as though they were fluffy pillows. She sang him a lullaby about a girl who cut through ten miles of stone to find a single ruby and then lived ten thousand years. Borlen fell asleep with a peaceful smile on his face.

  Rubald and I sat in silence for a while as Rumelda went about readying herself for bed. Eventually he spoke in a thoughtful voice.

  “Death can be a hard thing, even for dwarves,” said Rubald. “When a young dwarf dies, even at a hundred years, we mourn greatly.” He looked at Borlen as he spoke, and sighed. “I suppose I can empathize with your quest, though we dwarves have a saying: ‘Let the rocks fall where they may.’ It means sometimes we must allow things to happen as they will.”