by Garth Nix
And, with all four legs splayed, just beginning to growl, a small, wiry bundle of white fur and snapping teeth that had to be Ferox.
“Do you think me a fool?” Fyrennian began.
But Biter was already moving. Stabbing forward with the speed of lightning, the sword angled to Odo’s right, taking Odo with him, and then lunged in a direct line for Ramm’s throat. The big man responded too slowly to defend himself. The cudgel was heavy and Biter too fast. Odo had a momentary premonition of the future, which contained lurid images of gouts of blood. He just managed to pull back on the sword at the last moment, deflecting the sword from a killing thrust.
Biter’s tip pierced Ramm’s right shoulder and sent him backward with a howl. He instantly dropped his cudgel and pressed his hand against the wound, his once-ferocious eyes now filled with pain and fear.
Ferox, not wanting to be left out of the fight, charged forward, narrowly avoiding being cut in two by Biter before going straight for Eleanor. For a moment she froze, held captive by the firelight gleaming on his sharp teeth. Ferox was small but ferocious, fueled by the righteous fury of an animal defending its master. She raised the paring knife, wishing she had a sword herself, eyes on those teeth …
Then she remembered the food in her other hand.
“Here, boy!” she cried, flinging the stew-soaked crust at the dog. Ferox growled, but couldn’t help pausing to swallow the crust, which gave Eleanor a few vital seconds to reach one of the braziers. Gripping it by its slender base, she lifted it with a grunt and tipped it forward, scattering hot coals in an arc that trapped Ferox in the corner.
The dog whined and retreated, and smoke filled the air.
Ramm was down. Ferox was subdued. Odo turned his attention to Fyrennian and froze.
The smith had the firestarter in his hands and was pointing it at them.
“Back!” Fyrennian cried. “Put the sword on the floor. I know it can’t kill me without you holding it. I recognized it as an enchanted sword the moment you walked in. I know the rules. Put it down.”
Odo gripped the sword tighter. “No,” he said.
“Do it, or I’ll burn you and your friend to ashes.”
Fyrennian jabbed the firestarter at them. Eleanor and Odo retreated, circling around the plinth with their backs against the wall. Fyrennian was forcing them into a corner, away from the door.
Eleanor considered throwing the knife, but what if the smith could burn them before the knife struck? What if she missed?
“The sword, on the ground,” said Fyrennian. “This is your last chance.”
“What’s to stop you burning us anyway?” Eleanor asked him.
“I give you my word.”
“And what’s that worth?” said Odo.
“I am not a monster. I am a smith. My word is my bond, or my customers would never deal with me.”
“You are no true smith,” said Biter. “You use a dragon’s fire for your own ends. That is forbidden.”
“Ah, at last it deigns to speak!” Fyrennian jabbed with the firestarter again, and they retreated a step farther. Fyrennian was now in the doorway with a lightly singed Ferox at his side, blocking their only exit. The smith’s eyes were bright with desire. “Come to me, sword, or I will melt you as well.”
Understanding suddenly dawned on Eleanor. If Fyrennian had known that Odo was lying all along, why the charade? Why lay a trap for them to walk into? Why fake Fyrennian in the bed, fake Ferox beside it, fake snoring to complete the illusion … ?
Because, she now knew, he wanted Biter for himself. He wanted a magic sword.
“You won’t blast us,” she said. “Biter is too valuable.”
“Clever girl,” Fyrennian said. “So clever you’re stupid. I don’t know where you came from, but you’ve given me an excellent idea. Step away from your friend. If he doesn’t let go of the sword, I’ll blast you first, and maybe then he’ll see reason.”
Eleanor’s knees felt weak, but she didn’t move. Odo gripped the sword tighter, furiously thinking. There had to be a way out. There had to be!
A pale figure rose up behind Fyrennian, holding a triangular shape high above its head. Ferox barked a warning too late as Toland brought the bellows down hard upon Fyrennian’s head.
The smith toppled forward like a stone.
As he fell, one end of the firestarter was caught by the edge of the plinth, the other by Fyrennian’s heavy stomach. As his weight bore down, the strange, misshapen staff bent and bent, but didn’t break.
Not until Biter leaped forward, almost out of Odo’s hand. There was a crack like the closest thunder, and the firestarter was sundered in two, the halves shooting across the room like arrows, one nearly hitting Odo.
Fyrennian crashed to the ground, and was still.
I was under the bed,” Toland said, staring down in shock. “Pumping the bellows … faking the snoring … hating myself for … for betraying you … and then I knew it was now or never … but what have I done?”
“Exactly the right thing,” Eleanor assured him. Next, she rushed over to check Fyrennian. Seeing he was still alive and his dog now completely cowed, she turned the smith onto his side, allowing the whimpering Ferox, tail down, to begin pathetically licking his face.
“It’s what you do in the end that matters,” Odo said. “You saved our lives! And helped break the firestarter. It won’t work now, will it, Biter?”
“Assuredly not,” said the sword, to Odo’s relief. This was one magical thing that hadn’t been difficult to destroy. “Fyrennian’s reign of terror is over.”
Toland didn’t look triumphant. He looked scared and worried. Even with Fyrennian unconscious and the firestarter broken.
“But there’s still the —”
Ramm groaned, cutting off whatever protest Toland was about to make. Odo swung around to point Biter at the fallen bodyguard. The bloodstained tip of a fiendishly sharp blade one inch from his nose was enough to convince him to stay down.
“His wound needs seeing to,” Odo told Toland. “You’d better get Master Thrytin out of the cellar.”
“Yes, but what about the —”
“And Fyrennian needs to be locked up before he wakes up,” Eleanor added. She went over to Ramm, lifted his hand where it was pressed against the wound, and said with the certainty of an apothecary’s daughter, “It’s not serious. Keep pressing against it. Toland, get a sheet from Fyrennian’s bed to tear up for a bandage.”
“Yes, but —”
Outside the smithy, a horn sounded a long, questioning fanfare that was answered a moment later by a more distant and more abrasive blast.
“Someone comes,” said Biter.
“Who is it?” asked Odo.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Toland yelled. “Even before I talked, Fyrennian knew you were a fake because he only works for a particular … a peculiar kind of buyer. Buyers he was expecting. And now they’re here!”
“What, at night?” Eleanor asked.
Odo’s stomach dropped. He thought he might know the kind of buyer who would only come at night.
The distant horn sounded again, much closer than before.
Footsteps ran up the hallway and into the bedchamber. A nervous apprentice peered past Toland.
“They’re here, Master Fyrennian. Master Fyrennian? What in the —?”
“Fyrennian is no longer master here,” said Odo. He raised Biter and tried to sound as knightly as he could. “Justice has been done. Master Thrytin will soon be freed and will once more take charge. In fact, go and release him from the cellar and bring him here at once.”
“Yes, sir!” said the apprentice, hurrying away.
“Now what do we do?” asked Odo. The horn sounded again, much closer. Clearly inside the palisade.
“What kind of particular or peculiar buyers are they?” Eleanor asked, mystified. “How did Fyrennian know we weren’t one of them?”
“He knew because we’re human,” said Odo.
&
nbsp; There was the sound of many footsteps upon the floor outside. Strange footfalls, clicking noises, not the thud of boots.
“They’re coming in!” said Toland. He edged behind Odo.
“Who’s coming in?” asked Eleanor urgently.
A harsh, sharp odor suddenly filled the room.
“Smells like a tannery,” said Eleanor, her forehead knit in complete puzzlement. “But what —”
“Urthkin,” whispered Odo.
The outer door to Fyrennian’s chamber banged open at the same time as Eleanor’s shocked mouth. They heard another apprentice gabbling out apologies, and those strange footfalls, getting closer and closer …
“Angry urthkin, I fear they’ll be,” squeaked Toland. “The firestarter belonged to them!”
“What?” This was possibly the worst thing Odo had ever heard.
“They found it underground but can’t use it because it’s too hot and bright,” babbled Toland. He was right behind Odo now, hardly daring to look around the bigger boy’s back at the doorway. “They lent it to Fyrennian, but he has to make whatever they want — Oh!”
A dozen incredibly pale-skinned, reed-slender demihumans no taller than Eleanor burst into the room. Their skin was so translucent, Odo could see the tracery of blood vessels in their necks and temples. Their hair was like spun green glass, and their eyes were as black as the smith’s coal. Those eyes were half-closed now, even against the relatively low light in the room. They wore smocks and tunics of dark-colored fabric pinned and adorned with finely carved stone. They had hoops of malachite in their ears, rings of onyx on their fingers, and combs of ebony in their hair.
Every one of the dozen who crowded in the room had the same style of knife on their hip, which added up to a lot of knives.
Knives made by the smiths of Anfyltarn, Odo suddenly realized.
None of the small but needle-sharp blades were out, but he didn’t doubt they could be drawn in a moment.
The urthkin who wore the most adornments stepped out of the horde and approached the waiting humans. Eleanor noticed the clicking sound came from the fact that the urthkin did not have human feet, nor did they wear shoes. They had paws like a mole’s, with digging claws. Their hands, however, were more humanlike, with longer fingers and curved nails that were almost talons.
“Where is Master Fyrennian?” the leader asked, the tips of her pointed teeth shining in the firelight.
“He’s … he’s not in charge here anymore,” said Odo.
The urthkin leader did not show any surprise. Keeping her face averted from the light of the fire, she simply said, “Who is your new scortwisa?”
“What does that mean?” Odo whispered to Toland.
“That’s what they called Fyrennian,” he whispered back. “It means leader, I suppose.”
Odo looked around to see if anyone else was going to volunteer to take charge. He wanted someone else to take charge.
But no — they were all looking at him.
“I speak for Anfyltarn,” said Odo. “For now.”
“No,” said the urthkin. “That cannot be. Do you try to trick us?”
“Um, no …” said Odo uncertainly. “Why … er … why can’t it be me?”
“Wisdom comes from closer to the ground,” said the urthkin.
Odo stared at her. If that were true, potatoes would be the smartest things around. He didn’t understand what the strange visitor was saying.
Luckily, Eleanor did.
“I am not the scortwisa,” she said, coming forward. She was careful to slouch, so she was no taller than the urthkin. “But I speak for the scortwisa.”
The urthkin bowed very low to the ground. Eleanor copied her, and again was careful not to stand too tall when they both straightened up.
Odo was barely able to suppress a sudden gasp of realization. The urthkin must not trust tall people, or thought they were less intelligent or something. It was no wonder they’d given the firestarter to Fyrennian. He was the shortest man Odo had ever met.
The urthkin leader addressed Eleanor, ignoring everyone else.
“We bring ore that you will fashion into knives.”
“Um, you should know something first,” said Eleanor. She looked over at Odo, hoping he would be ready if the urthkin suddenly drew their knives and attacked. “The firestarter is broken.”
The urthkin all looked to the ground as one, and then slowly back up to stare at Eleanor. It was rather unnerving, all those incredibly dark eyes and strange, vein-laced faces directed at her.
“Our gift is despoiled?” asked the leader quietly. “Who despoiled it?”
“Uh, I broke it,” Odo said.
“Who is the breaker of our gift?”
“Um … me?”
The urthkin were still all looking at Eleanor. The girl felt the tension rise in the room. Toland was just about ready to bolt. And Odo’s hand was on Biter’s hilt.
“Sir Odo of Lenburh is the despoiler!” Eleanor proclaimed.
The urthkin did not look particularly impressed. “You must make amends,” she said. Her voice did not change, but the air of menace in the words was unmistakable.
Eleanor said, “We’ll do everything we can —”
“I’ll do it,” Odo interrupted. “We didn’t know it was yours. The firestarter, I mean. But Fyrennian should not have had it.”
Again, the urthkin paid Odo no attention. But when she spoke to Eleanor, it seemed to be in answer to this.
“Why do you say Fyrennian should not have had the firestarter?”
Odo blurted out what Biter had said to them before: “What is a dragon’s must remain a dragon’s!”
This time, the urthkin all turned to look at Odo — or at least at Odo’s stomach, since they would not look up. Then they turned to look at one another. There was a susurration of very low voices, so low that Eleanor couldn’t make out any words, only feel the vibration of what must be the urthkins’ own language. This went on for several long minutes, before the leader turned back to Eleanor again.
“We must consider,” the leader said. “You raise doubts of procedure, responsibility, and consequence. Some of us think we should kill you all and destroy this place, as you have destroyed the firestarter. Some believe that it is our greed for steel knives that has led to this, and so you are not to blame. And the earth has not spoken, to tell us which is the truer way. In short, we do not know whether to slay you all or not.”
Eleanor drew in a sharp breath. “You don’t really mean that. You wouldn’t kill us, would you?”
The knives came out. And so did all the teeth.
“We mean every word.”
Odo felt sick. I should never have tried to be a knight, he thought miserably. All we’ve managed to achieve is to bring a whole village to the brink of being killed by urthkin. Not to mention getting killed myself, and Eleanor too. Her poor father … and my own parents …
But there seemed no alternative. Odo gripped Biter so hard his knuckles showed white. If he and Biter could hold the urthkin back even for a few minutes, Eleanor and Toland might be able to climb up to the ceiling beams and out onto the roof …
“We cannot choose the right … I do not know your word … tunnel?” the urthkin leader continued unexpectedly. “So we must let the earth decide.”
Odo relaxed his death grip on Biter just a fraction. His palms were sweating. Eleanor glanced at him, and spoke quickly to the urthkin.
“How would we do that?” she asked.
“You would call it a trial by combat, I think,” said the urthkin leader. She pointed at Odo. “The breaker of the firestarter against a champion of our people. If you win, then the earth thinks you are blameless. If we win, then you will owe blood to the earth, which we will take.”
Odo swallowed a lump the size of an apple that appeared to be stuck in his throat. Trial by combat? He wasn’t ready for that. Maybe with more training … much more training … but not now!
Biter was twitching eagerly from sid
e to side. Odo thought desperately for an alternative to pitting himself against an urthkin who would certainly be a seasoned warrior, but came up with none. His only hope was Biter himself, the magic sword who had gotten them into this situation in the first place. If only they hadn’t destroyed the firestarter …
He straightened, consoling his doubts and fears with the certainty that breaking Fyrennian’s tyrannical rule had been the right thing to do.
“So be it,” he said.
“Are you sure?” hissed Eleanor.
“Yes,” he said. “Only the idle do no good, Ma says.”
“Then I guess we accept,” she told the urthkin.
“You must fight on the bare earth,” said the leader. “Come.”
Everyone trooped outside. The halls were crowded with many more urthkin, but also all the woken smiths and apprentices, many of whom were armed and looking about nervously, expecting trouble. Outside there were even more urthkin, as well as the villagers who didn’t work directly in the smithy. They had pitchforks and knives.
Eleanor looked around with worry in her heart. If Odo lost, the urthkin would probably win the subsequent battle, but there would be many killed on both sides.
She could only hope that Odo won.
The urthkin leader walked almost to the gate in the palisade, but stopped short. Extending her arms, she indicated a circle. Her followers moved into position, standing shoulder to shoulder in a circle some fifty paces across.
Odo walked into the middle of this circle, his boots scuffing the earth. He felt very alone, with only the weight of Biter in his hand as small comfort. It was not as dark out here as he had expected, with the stars bright above and the moon half-full. Some of the humans carried torches and lanterns too, casting light from a safe distance. Everyone was staring at him with human or urthkin-black eyes. It was very difficult because he really just wanted to curl up in a ball and hope everything would go away, but somehow he forced himself to stand tall. Although he wasn’t a man-mountain yet, he knew putting on a show of it couldn’t hurt. It might even make his opponent nervous.
The urthkin talked among themselves again, in their low, felt-but-not-heard voices. Odo stood waiting, his heart pounding. Eleanor tried to grin at him, to show confidence, but she couldn’t make herself smile. The thought that Odo might lose was like a knife twisting in her side. Helplessly, she wished she was going into battle with him, or instead of him. She knew Odo just didn’t have the same instincts for battle that Eleanor was sure she possessed herself. They had gotten themselves into this situation together. It didn’t seem fair that he had to finish it on his own.