Anthem Of The Dwarf King

by Charley Case

  They both nodded, and Regan wiped sweat from her face before answering, “We talked things over with Kevin last night. The Dark Star can't be allowed to use a ship like the Anthem. It would mean a world war, even if it was so the Peabrains could get their hands on the ship. If the stories about her are true, the Dark Star will kill millions to reach her goals.”

  Ronan nodded. “What she wants to accomplish isn’t all that bad, if you ask me. A place where magicals can be themselves and get the help from a government that knows they exist would be fantastic, but not at the cost she’s planning to exact. There has to be another way.”

  Ronan’s answer surprised Finn. It showed a level of thought he didn't associate with young people. Maybe it was because they had been raised one step from the streets, relying on their clan.

  “It’s more than avoiding war,” Mila said as she entered the dojo with two towels draped over her arm. “If the Dark Star uses the ship, there is no way to keep magic hidden any longer. That knowledge alone would start all kinds of trouble. People would start hunting magicals in the streets. Hell, we do that to our own kind for much less than magical abilities.”

  She handed a clean towel to each. “There are showers in the locker room. You two need to clean up after that display.”

  Ronan shrugged. “We’re close to home, and we have the car. We should get back and pack for the trip.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Finn said, rising to his feet and offering a hand to help the twins up. They both stood up and took another long pull of water.

  Regan cleared her throat. “Um, would it be okay for us to bring our Playstation? I mean, it sounds like we might have some downtime, and I’m guessing Preston Meriwether’s TV at the cabin will be the shit.”

  Finn shrugged, not knowing what a Playstation was. “Have at it.”

  They lit up with wide grins and high-fived one another. “Sweet! Okay, we’ll get things together and meet you here in the morning.”

  “Be careful driving home,” Mila cautioned, folding the clean towels back up. “It’s been snowing ever since you got here.”

  Regan smiled. “No problem. We were born and raised here. Snow is a way of life. Besides, knowing Denver weather, it’ll melt in ten minutes anyway.”

  Mila chuckled. “True.”

  The twins bundled up in their puffy jackets, pulled on matching knit caps at the door, made their goodbyes, and headed out.

  As soon as Mila closed the door behind them, a huffing Danica pushed it open again. Her face red from exertion, she gulped a few breaths.

  Mila stepped back to let the puffing elf in. “Hey, babe. Did you just run a marathon? I don't think I’ve ever seen you so out of breath.”

  Danica dropped a plastic bag from the corner store on the counter, shrugged out of her coat and scarf, and tossed them on the bench under the coat rack beside the door.

  “I think it was one of those stupid hitmen the Dark Star sent after you guys.” She leaned straight-armed against the counter.

  “What?” Mila’s eyes widened. She stepped over and rubbed a comforting hand on Danica's back. “How do they even know about you?”

  “Well, we do all live together,” Finn said, cocking his head and glancing around the condo with a sudden spike of fear. “Where’s Penny?”

  Danica waved off his worry as she took a deep breath. “Outside working on the wards. She saw me coming and scared off the two guys following me. Blew a stream of fire at them. They jumped into a van and sped off.”

  Finn and Mila exchanged a look. “Was it a black cargo van?”

  Danica nodded. She chuckled and pulled a bottle of white wine and a couple of bags of chips out of the bag.

  “I’ll check the listing on the phone,” Mila said, jogging toward her room.

  “Maybe you should take a few days off until we settle this with the Dark Star,” Finn said, worry thick in his voice. “I wouldn't know what to do if you got hurt because of all this.”

  She gave him a halfhearted smile. “That’s sweet, Finn, but I don't want to be cooped up in here because I’m too afraid to go outside. That’s no way to live. Besides, I can take care of myself. I just need to be more prepared.”

  “That fucking whore!” Mila shouted, coming out of her room with the assassin's phone in her hand. “She put a bounty on Danica too. A million dollars, dead. Not dead or alive, just dead.” Mila slammed the phone down.

  Danica's eyes went wide, and she gulped. “She wants me dead? Why?”

  “She’s trying to get to us. She knows we have access to the bounty board,” Finn growled. He glanced at Danica, who appeared more fearful now that it was right in front of her. “Screw it. Take the next week off. You’re coming with us. You can stay at the cabin, which is warded better than this place. And, if we need it, you can patch us up after we tear her men to pieces while we check out the ship. This is personal now. No one fucks with my friends.”

  Chapter Nine

  Finn handed a metal keycard to Danica. “Preston’s cabin. Keep this, so there aren’t any problems when you get there.”

  Danica hung up the phone after having called in sick for the next week. She took the card and a flash of light nearly blinded them all.

  “Oh, shit! I forgot about that!” Danica blinked a few times. “Okay, aren’t you guys coming with me?”

  Finn shook his head. “I’ll see if Hermin can teleport you and the selkie twins there tomorrow morning. Me and Mila need to drive. We don't know how much travel we’ll have to do once we're there, so having a vehicle will make it easier.”

  Mila nodded. “Plus, once this is all over, we can go to the hot springs down the road. A nice long soak will make this all worth it.”

  Danica gave her a sidelong glance. “Maybe not worth it, but it’ll help.”

  “I don't know,” Mila teased. “They’re really nice.”

  The French door to the balcony opened and Finn spun. He relaxed when he observed Penny coming inside, her wards evidently finished.

  “Any problems?” he asked.

  Penny flapped over to them, shaking her head. “Shi chi shir.”

  “Good. That should keep the place safe while we’re gone. Did you get a good look at the men who were after Danica?”

  Penny nodded. “Chi chi. Shir shee squee.” She waved a hand, saying they were harmless buffoons.

  Finn laughed. The two women looked at her inquisitively. “She said she chased the buffoons into the river at the 15th Street bridge. Cops arrived on the scene before they got to shore.”

  “That’s lucky,” Mila said, fist-bumping Penny after she landed on Finn's shoulder.

  “You two pack. I have an errand; be back in a couple hours,” Finn said, walking over to the coatrack. He pulled his Frankenstein bomber jacket on.

  “Where are you going?” Mila raised an eyebrow. “Is it a good idea, with all these assholes running around out there?”

  “Eh, with Penny chasing the last ones into the river, they’ll be taking it easy while they regroup. Anyway, I have Fragar and the temper to match. I’m going to pick up a few things from the market. Coming with me, Penny?”

  Penny landed on his shoulder, blowing a smoke ring from her nostril.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You want to get some of those tooters from the street meat cart, don't you?”

  Penny shrugged, but her stomach grumbled loud enough for them all to hear.

  Finn chuckled. “Okay, a tooter sounds good, to tell the truth. Hey, Danica?”

  She looked up from her phone. “Yeah?”

  “Pack your bow. Just in case.”

  She sharply nodded. “Already planned on it.”

  “Good. See you two in a bit.” He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.

  While he was riding the elevator down, Finn considered what Ronan had said about how the Dark Star might have the wrong execution, but her intentions weren’t all that far off. It had plagued Finn’s thoughts ever since he’d first heard about the wom
an. He and Penny had been all over the universe and seen oodles of cultures, but if one thing was a constant, an oppressed or hidden section of a society would eventually boil over.

  “Chi?” Penny scratched at his hair, leaning forward to peek at him.

  “Huh? Oh, nothing. Thinking about where this is all leading,” Finn said as the elevator dinged. He stepped into the small lobby and went through the glass door to the street. A gust of air worked its way through his open jacket, making him zip it up. Cold never bothered him, but he got fewer strange looks when he acted like a Peabrain. Not that having a blue-winged lizard on his shoulder didn't draw its fair share of looks, but the people in LoDo were used to seeing the odd pet or two. The district was a hipster mecca.

  He passed through inch-deep fresh snow on top of packed snow from earlier foot traffic. The stuff had kept falling since that morning, and it coated the city in a few inches of white powder that was not yet gray and slushy. The fluffy snow gave the city an otherworldly feel, muting the usual sounds and making the world small and lonely.

  Finn peered at the pinprick of sun fighting to be seen through the gray sky. He judged it was around lunchtime, so he made haste before the lunch crowd filled the streets. Their manic hour of eating and errands fascinated him as he watched from the condo’s balcony. They flooded the streets with cars and the sidewalks with people in business suits, stuffing food in their mouths or making deposits at banks before disappearing again—sudden raiding parties pillaging at prescribed hours.

  Finn hurried across the street in case someone didn't understand how traction and snow worked. His thoughts returned to how lunch hour was a very Peabrain idea, which led him to how most magicals were not represented in society, and how that was a pressure cooker with a clogged relief valve. Something must give.

  “Chi shir?” Penny piped up again, hunkering against his neck to keep the wind at bay.

  “I was thinking about what this world will look like in a few decades,” he told her, deciding that talking things out might lead him to an understanding. “Ronan wasn't the first to suggest the Dark Star’s intentions are good even if not needed. For now, at least, most people can see her methods are insane, but that won’t always be true. That magicals aren’t even being oppressed compounds the issue. It’s like they all made a deal with one another, except now they’re starting to see it was a bad one.”

  Penny gathered her thoughts as Finn turned down the alley behind the bodega. Once they entered the tight alley and the wind died, Penny sat up, shaking out her wings before settling down again. “Shi, chi chi?” she asked, coming up empty.

  Finn shrugged, making her take a handful of his hair to keep her balance. “I don't know what to do either. I mean, is there anything I can do? I feel like if there was something that could be done, Preston and his people would have thought of it already.”

  “Suqee shir. Chi shee.”

  “They’re still magicals,” Finn argued, pounding on the brick wall where the Market’s entrance was. “You think they’re, what, too close to the problem to see the solution?”

  A brick slid back, and a pair of large feline eyes took them in. “Password?”

  “Peabrains are forgetful,” Finn said. “How’s it going, Pete?”

  “Can't complain. Welcome back.” The brick slid back in place and an arch of bubbles formed around the entrance.

  “Chi shee shee,” Penny continued as the door formed.

  Finn thought about that, not replying until they were halfway down the hundred steps to the Market. “That’s interesting. They grew up like this. Most of them don't even remember what it means to live in a normal society. That brings up whether we should do anything about it. Isn’t this how societies evolve? Who are we to impose our beliefs on them?”

  Penny shrugged but lost interest as soon as the sweet, meaty smell of tooters hit her snout. She made a grabbing motion. Finn chuckled, pulled a few dollars out of his back pocket, and slapped them into her outstretched hand. “Make sure to get me one this time.”

  Penny nodded and followed her nose down the stairs, leaving Finn to take the last fifty steps by himself. He could swear he saw several drops of drool in her wake.

  Chapter Ten

  The Market’s whitewashed brick and stone walls and vaulted ceiling brought a lightness to the underground chamber that made the thin haze of smoke and incense less noticeable. The lanterns on the walls and hanging from the arched ceiling beams emitted some light, but most came from magical means that illuminated the air, giving mundane objects an otherworldly cast.

  Finn stepped into the flow of foot traffic along the first row of stalls. A pair of elves, their heads close together as they spoke and examined an object in their hands, nearly ran into him, sidestepping at the last second. They gave him dark looks until they saw who he was, then glanced away, picking up their pace.

  Finn frowned. People were talking about him, and the old prejudices were ingrained deep. He shrugged. He couldn't blame them for thinking ill of dwarves. It was a well-earned reaction, considering the heavy hand his ancestors had used to rule them.

  Finn fell into step with the crowd, not in any hurry and not knowing where to find what he sought. He visited a few booths with magical items, but they were barely worth a second look—mere spell charms and ritual components.

  Most races used the same process to cast spells: create a bubble, change reality inside it, and then release the bubble to introduce the magic into reality. Finn's teachers had explained the details when he was young, but he didn't remember most of his lessons since he was always struggling with his rage. The takeaway was that magic was easier for most than for dwarves. The way he saw it, the power of a caster’s will determined their strengths: larger will, larger spell. Most folks lacked the will—and imagination—to use their powers to the fullest extent, so they relied on rituals or components, and those were what filled most of the booths.

  “See anything you like, my lord?”

  Finn discerned a young man with shaggy black hair that hung around his face, hiding it. Finn couldn't determine his race, although pointed ears poked out of his black mop. The youth wrung his hands, a hint of worry in his posture.

  Finn displayed his white teeth through his thick brown beard. “Sorry. You don't carry what I need.”

  “What is it you seek? I know most of the vendors here. Perhaps I can point you in the right direction?”

  His willingness to help took Finn by surprise, considering it was obvious he was nervous about having the infamous dwarf at his stall. It dawned on Finn that he was the only one at the stall. Passersby avoided the booth soon as they saw him. The young man was trying to move him along.

  Finn was willing to move do so. The problem was he didn't know how to ask for what he wanted. It wasn't illegal, but he found most magicals frowned upon their use, at least here on Earth. He was about to tell the young man to forget it and amble on when he remembered the elven leader from the warped trees incident. He had told him where he had gotten the dwarven amulet.

  “Actually…” Finn leaned in, resting a hand on the table, “do you know where I can find a Tommy?”

  The man narrowed his eyes in thought. “A Tommy? What’s that?”

  Finn shook his head. “ Not a what, a who.”

  Leaning back and breathing out an “oh,” he nodded. “I think you mean ‘Timmy.’”

  Finn snapped his fingers. “Right. Sorry, Timmy. Do you know where I can find him?”

  He pointed to the far corner of the Market. “Large green tent that way, up against the wall. The sign over the door says Whatever.”

  Finn furrowed his brow. “Whatever, as in ‘I don't care?’”

  The man laughed and his hair came apart enough that Finn spied a hooked nose, its tip as black and shiny as obsidian.

  “Whatever, as in he has whatever you need,” he said, the corner of his mouth up in a half-smile.

  Finn scanned the table before him and found a small metal charm that was
an accurate representation of Fragar on a looped bit of string. He picked it up and examined it. “What is this for?” Finn didn’t detect any magic.

  “You put it on your phone or keys or whatever.”

  He let the charm hang by the string and held it close to his face, taking in the details. “Does it let you locate the object it's attached to?”

  The young man’s head and hair shook. “No, man. It’s just an ornament. It doesn't do anything except look cool.”

  “Oh.” Finn pulled a roll of cash from his pocket. “How much?”

  The guy eyeballed the roll of bills, licking his lips before letting his shoulders sag—a sign he’d considered a swindle, then given up on the idea. Finn was glad to see it. He liked the black-haired moptop.

  “Twenty bucks?”

  Finn handed him a fifty and put the charm in his pocket. “Keep it. Thanks for pointing me the right way.”

  The guy goggled at the fifty, then reached out, stopping Finn before he could step away. “Hey, sorry about earlier. I was trying to get you out of here. I don't know if you know this or not, but people in the community are wary of you. We all grew up with tales of dwarves, and they’re not what you’d call flattering. Hell, the last dwarves on Earth were the Vikings, and we all know they were a bunch of assholes.” He shook his head, waving away the comment. “Point is, people who’ve met you are saying you’re a good dude. I didn't believe them, but…” He held up the fifty and shook it. “Turns out you’re an okay sort.”

  Finn held out a hand. The young man looked at it and extended his, and they pumped hands in a solid shake.“Thanks. I wouldn't mind if you spread the word.” Finn smiled, letting go and thumbing the straps of his harness like a farmer surveying his fields.

  “I will. And, hey, a heads up. Timmy can be shady sometimes on prices. Don't flash your wad until you agree on a price.”

  Finn held back a laugh, considering the young man had almost done that very thing to him. “I’ll keep my wits about me. What’s your name?”