Fenzig's Fortune_A Gnome's Tale

by Jean Rabe

“You’re a hero, Fenzig, and as such you deserve a reward.” The duke threw open a massive walnut door, behind which were piles of coins, bowls filled with gems, and open chests brimming with jewelry and objects of art. “My treasury, Fenzig. You may take as much as you can fit into that bag.”

  The gnome looked at the bag, at the room filled with riches, and then he glanced up, dumbfounded, at the duke. “I can’t take anything from you,” Fenzig said. “I helped because . . . well, I guess because I wanted to. I don’t need a reward.” He quickly added that the homing spell Carmella cast on him was actually just a tattoo—he hadn’t been forced to do anything.

  The duke laughed. “And a lovely tattoo it is.” He nudged the gnome into the room. Practically everything inside sparkled and glittered and brought tears to the little thief’s eyes. “Go on. You won’t be stealing anything. I’m giving it to you. Whatever you want, take it.”

  Fenzig moved forward, mesmerized. The gems and gold and everything was like a dream come true—and he’d been let in here. He didn’t have to sneak and break in. He didn’t have to steal. It was a gift. He took another look over his shoulder at the duke, who made a motion with his hand for Fenzig to continue.

  All right, Fenzig thought. I’ll take just a little. The man has more gold than he can spend in his lifetime, and he won’t miss what little bit I take. Look at those rubies! And that pearl necklace! And look at those gold belt buckles! And that beautiful short sword! And all those coins! And that—”

  Fenzig stopped thinking and started filling his bag. He took whatever was within easy reach and looked expensive, but he was very careful not to take the most valuable pieces—those should remain for the generous duke and his lovely daughters. He stood transfixed by a crystal case on a pedestal. Inside were pins in the shape of butterflies. A dozen, they looked like they were on display like an insect collection. But these insects were trimmed in rubies, sapphires, jacinths, and diamonds. He blinked and looked away.

  The short sword that caught his eye had a carved ivory pommel, and the duke indicated he should take it and its tooled leather scabbard. Fenzig didn’t wait for a second invitation to strap it around his waist.

  The bag was bulging and almost too heavy to carry by the time Fenzig was ready to exit the room. “I’ll have enough wealth to live on for years,” he said, grinning. “I won’t have to work. I won’t have to carve wood with my father.” The smile started to disappear from his face. “I won’t have to travel. I won’t have to do anything.” He set the bag down amid all the other baubles.

  “This isn’t going to make me happy,” he said at last. “Wanting riches is what got me into trouble in the first place. Having riches might get me into a worse mess. I learned my lesson. I don’t need this much stuff. Nobody needs this much stuff. And I don’t need to be rich.” Wealth never made King Erlgrane happy, he thought. And wealth hadn’t made the duke happy—having his daughters back did.

  With that, Fenzig opened the sack, selected four walnut-sized gems and a handful of coins, and put them in his pocket. They’d buy him food, a small wagon, and plenty of supplies—things he could use to give himself a fresh start.

  He looked up at the guards, who were smiling at him. He offered them a wide grin in return; then he glanced at the duke one last time. “I’ve got what I want,” he told Duke Rehmir. The gnome patted the sword, deciding he’d keep it for self-defense. He might pass through the Haunted Woods again, and he wanted something to keep the craven cats at bay.

  “I wish you’d take more,” the duke said.

  Fenzig shook his head. “It would only weigh me down.”

  “Your pony, Summer, is waiting out front,” Carmella told him, smiling.

  “Summer? I don’t know what to say.” Fenzig was at an uncommon loss for words over the gift of Carmella’s prized pony.

  “Say you’ll come back and visit,” the duke replied as he escorted the gnome to the front door where Summer was waiting.

  As Duke Rehmir and his four daughters waved farewell from the steps, Fenzig mounted the pony. Surreptitiously wiping a tear from his eye, he turned his back on the happy little group and rode away. I’ll miss you Carmella, he thought, for once hoping she was wearing the necklace.

  As the gnome headed away from the manor house, he wondered if the shop in K’Nosha—the one with the lovely green and white quilt—would still be open. My aunt would love that, he thought; I could buy it for her.

  He urged Summer into a fast trot around the garden, over the sculpted lawn, and through the gate. He was nearing the border of the duke’s property when he spotted a rider coming at a fast pace toward him. The setting sun painted the black-cloaked man with a hint of orange, and Fenzig wondered if he was a messenger bringing important news to Duke Rehmir.

  As the man approached more closely, however, Fenzig gasped in surprise and pulled hard on the reins to turn Summer about. The little pony responded quickly, but the man steered his mount to cut across the gnome’s path, blocking off his escape. He threw back the cloak and dismounted in one fluid motion.

  King Erlgrane! The king was wearing the same type of chain mail as his guards wore, and he had very few pieces of jewelry about him. He was not wearing anything that would readily identify him as a monarch, and the realization that the king was traveling incognito filled Fenzig with dread.

  “You will die, wee-one,” the king hissed. “It took all the resources of my lesser wizards to learn what you have done, where you were. And now, you will die. By my hand!”

  As Erlgrane drew his sword and advanced on Fenzig, the gnome swallowed hard and slid from Summer, tugging his new short sword from its scabbard.

  “You have thwarted me, scoundrel, for the last time,” the king spat. “You kept me from the emeralds.”

  “They’re not emeralds anymore,” Fenzig said as he took a defensive stance. The thief was nervous. He knew he lacked any real skill with the sword, and this one wasn’t magical and wouldn’t rust the king’s blade and armor. “They’re Duke Rehmir’s daughters again.”

  “And you’ve done something to my wizard.”

  “Guilty,” the gnome replied. “He’s dead. And his body should be arriving at your castle about now.”

  “Fool! Above everything else, you have kept me from claiming this land,” the king continued.

  “The land is Duke Rehmir’s, and you’ve no right claim to it.”

  “It will be mine!” Erlgrane snapped. “I told you days ago, thief, that I would take it myself if I had to. It should be mine simply because I want it!”

  “Your army isn’t strong enough to take it,” the gnome quipped. Fenzig nearly dropped his sword, his hands were sweating so.

  “But if I kill Duke Rehmir, I will claim it. I will force a marriage with one of his daughters, and then the land will legally be mine. Or I’ll have it by killing them all. No one will be the wiser. No one will know, because no one knows I’m here.”

  “No one?”

  “I slipped out of my castle and donned a guard’s uniform. The people of Burlengren and K’Nosha will never know I had a hand in the Rehmirs’ upcoming tragedy.”

  “But I’ll know,” the gnome said as he stepped back to get away from the advancing king. “Even if the duke dies, even if you’re successful in killing him, his daughters will know, too.”

  “You’ll be dead,” Erlgrane said icily, “and after I’ve ensconced myself within the duke’s palace, he will die, his daughters will die, too, one by one, in horrible, unfortunate accidents. I’ll grieve for them, truly. But no one will suspect anything.”

  “You’re mad!” Fenzig cried. He hoped his voice might be loud enough to carry and alert some of Duke Rehmir’s guards. “You’re truly mad—a dangerous lunatic!”

  King Erlgrane lunged forward, slicing with his longer blade and cutting through Fenzig’s tunic. The blade sliced skin, too, and a thin red line formed on the gnome’s chest. The wound was not serious, but it stung, and it distracted the gnome, who did not bring his
own sword up fast enough to parry the king’s next thrust.

  This time Erlgrane struck at Fenzig’s hand, meaning to disarm the gnome. Instead, the blade crashed into the pommel of the sword just above the gnome’s fingers, and pieces of ivory flew this way and that. Stunned, Fenzig dropped the blade, then cringed as Erlgrane stepped on it.

  “You’re no fighter.” The king’s voice was even and tinged with sarcasm. “You’re a common scoundrel who had no business getting involved in any of this. Stand still, and I’ll make it quick. Just like I made . . . .”

  Erlgrane didn’t finish his tirade, instead raised his blade high above his head. The last rays of the sun caught the metal and made it glow as if it were newly forged.

  “No!” the gnome bellowed. He pushed off with his feet and threw himself at Erlgrane. The impact startled the monarch, and he stepped backward but did not fall. Fenzig, however, fell. He dropped to the grass and snatched up his now-free short sword. He rolled to the right as the king’s blade flashed and came down—the tip landing into the earth inches from where the gnome had been a heartbeat before.

  Fenzig continued rolling, then sprang to his feet when he’d gotten some breathing room between himself and the king. In the distance he heard shouts, and he prayed the duke’s guards realized something was wrong.

  Will they get here before Erlgrane finishes me though? the gnome wondered. He sprang to his left, avoiding another thrust, then he pivoted and danced around behind the enraged monarch.

  That forced Erlgrane to turn, and Fenzig took advantage of the few seconds he’d won by darting in and slashing at the king’s legs. The gnome’s first blow was ineffectual, but the second sliced into the king’s thigh and brought a howl of rage and pain from the monarch’s lips.

  “Insolent dog,” Erlgrane cried. “I’ll have your head.” The king heaved back and swung his sword in a quick and deadly arc.

  Fenzig dropped to his rump and watched as the blade cut through the air several inches above him, then he thrust his own weapon upward, meeting resistance as it sank deeply into the king’s undamaged thigh.

  The gnome suspected he’d cut the monarch to the bone and cringed as the king fell backward, the short sword still lodged in his leg. Fenzig grabbed the king’s sword and tossed it out of Erlgrane’s reach. The gnome couldn’t decide if he should pull the short sword free, or if that might hurt the king even worse.

  Instead, Fenzig hovered over the monarch, yanking off the gold necklace he wore, tugging off his ruby signet ring, unlatching the bracers—anything that might identify Erlgrane as royalty—and stuffing all of them into his pockets. King Erlgrane only rocked back and forth on the ground and continued to howl. The gnome tossed dirt on him to soil his garments.

  “I have another wizard, wee-one,” he cursed. “He will retrieve me—I guarantee it. I will not be so easily undone. I will have what I want. And I will have you and Rehmir and all his daughters dead. Already I have made you pay for your insolence. All I need do now is finish my work! Everything is in motion! I will not be undone!”

  The monarch was still howling when the guards arrived—led by Carmella atop her Carmen the Magnificent wagon. She was the first to the gnome’s side, and she fussed over the bleeding cut across his chest.

  “I’ll live,” Fenzig said, but he groaned and swooned a little for the added attention.

  “So will this fellow,” one of the guards observed. He pulled the short sword from Erlgrane’s leg, and the king screamed even louder. “But he’ll need a poultice and some rest—and right away. Was this scoundrel trying to rob you, Sir Fenzig?”

  Sir Fenzig? I like that, the gnome thought.

  The king moaned something barely intelligible, and the gnome and Carmella exchanged quick glances. She nodded almost imperceptibly to the gnome.

  “Why, indeed he was trying to rob me!” Fenzig said sternly. “And aside from being a thief, the poor fellow is quite mad. Claims these lands are his, and that he’s a king somewhere. But he doesn’t look very kingly. He looks like a common ruffian who stole someone’s chainmail.” The gnome tossed the king’s jewels in the back of Carmella’s wagons.

  The guards laughed as they none too carefully picked up Erlgrane and placed him over the back of the largest horse.

  “Then we’ll throw the thief in the duke’s dungeon and have the attendants minister to him there!” the guard announced.

  “Good,” Carmella replied. “Make sure he stays in the dungeon a very, very long time. And be sure to have my father look in on him later today, would you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the guard said, nodding to her.

  The guards headed back to Duke Rehmir’s manor, and Fenzig and Carmella grinned broadly.

  “Are you sure you don’t want someone to look at that? Put a poultice on it?” Carmella asked, once again examining the oozing wound on Fenzig’s chest.

  Fenzig shook his head. “I don’t want to be near another king or duke or castle or palace for quite some time. I’m looking forward to a nice, cozy burrow where I can mend on my own.”

  “No more traveling?” Carmella’s eyes sparkled in the fast-waning light. “I told my father just a short time ago that I had a couple more places to visit before I could come back here and make any attempt at putting down roots.”

  The gnome’s curiosity was piqued. “Where are you going?”

  “West,” she stated as she squared her shoulders. “There are a few towns over in that direction that have never heard of Carmen the Magnificent, and they don’t know what they’re missing. Want to come with me?”

  Fenzig groaned. “I vowed to go straight. I promised myself: no more stealing, no more conniving. I’m going to be an honest gnome.”

  “Pity,” she said as she helped him up, dusted him off, and handed him the short sword. “The pommel’s cracked.”

  “King Erlgrane did it,” the gnome said, “but better a split pommel than a broken wrist.”

  Carmella tousled his hair. “Yeah, I’d rather see you intact than in pieces, too. Well, I’d better be off. I’ve a lot of miles to cover, and I want to be well past K’Nosha before the stars come out.” She climbed up on the wagon and winked at Fenzig.

  “Think there’s a weaponsmith in one of those towns you’re going to?” he asked. “Someone who could fix this sword?”

  “I’m sure of it,” Carmella said. “Maybe he’d even trade the labor for a bottle of Carmen’s Cure-All.” She hied the horses into an easy gait.

  As Fenzig urged his pony alongside the wagon, he looked up at Carmella and sighed. Who was he to argue with fate? “I have a better idea,” he said. “Back in Graespeck there are all sorts of recipes for stomachache cures, headache remedies, and the like. We could stop there, get the recipes, then head west. I’ll bet the potions would work on humans just as well as they work on gnomes. And they do work. . . . Well, most of them do, anyway.”

  “They just might do the trick at that,” she said, laughing. “Think somebody in Graespeck would show me how to brew them?”

  “Definitely,” Fenzig answered.

  “Of course, I’d have to add a few touches of my own to give them color.”

  Without saying another word, Carmella angled the wagon toward burrow town. The gnome broke into a broad grin and hurried Summer to catch up.

  16

  Graespeck Revisited

  “You’ve been awfully quiet for the past forty or so miles.”

  “Just thinking,” the gnome said.

  “Aren’t you happy? You should be happy. At least a little happy,” Carmella prompted. “The king’s in my father’s dungeon, we’re free of the concerns of any nobility, and you just finished the rest of our sugared dates, which definitely should have made you happy. Besides, we’ll be visiting your people right before suppertime—with an empty wagon. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not entirely empty,” Fenzig returned. “My stomach or the wagon.”

  “Well, we don’t have any of my concoctio
ns left to sell.”

  The gnome made a face and shook his head.

  “All right, all right,” she huffed. “My concoctions are almost gone. So I’ve really got nothing to sell your gnome friends.”

  Fenzig poked out his bottom lip and met her stare.

  “Nothing much anyway. Look, Fenzighan, all we have left are just a few jars of hand cream—which never hurt anybody as far as I know. And I made a special point to save a couple of vials of my wild roses cologne—which I bought, I didn’t make. I couldn’t have completely nothing to sell to your people now, could I? Remember that cute little gnome lady who bought my lilac cologne? She was so happy. I couldn’t disappoint her.”

  “Sure you could. Right this very minute you’re disappointing those folks who bought your . . . your. . . .”

  “Toothache eraser?”

  He nodded.

  “Hairgrowth tonic?”

  He nodded again and frowned.

  “Don’t be so glum, Fenzighan. After all, we unloaded practically everything on those two villages. Made a healthy profit, too. You weren’t so glum when you were looking at all the gold pieces. Didn’t take us far out of the way, either, only a two-day sidetrip. Pleasant countryside. Pleasant weather.”

  “It was at that,” the gnome admitted, brightening a little. And pleasant company, he added to himself.

  “Besides, I thought you said you were happy that I’m going to try a fresh start—selling those gnomish formulas you mentioned instead of my mixtures. And if I’m really making a fresh start, I might as well do it by getting rid of . . .”

  “Your tummy-soother, worry-reliever, and the rest of it?”

  “Exactly,” she said smugly.

  Fenzig offered her a slight grin and took a turn at the reins. “Yeah, I thought making an honest living for a change might be a good idea for the both of us. Making a dishonest one certainly got me in a fix. But I didn’t mean for you to start over by selling those . . . those . . .” Fenzig again found himself at an uncustomary loss for words.