Anthem Of The Dwarf King

by Charley Case

  Chapter Twelve

  Finn ducked under the cloth entry of Whatever and stepped into the bustling Market. After the hour he had spent haggling in the magically silenced tent, the Market’s clamor hit him like a hammer.

  Finn figured Timmy would drive a hard bargain for the pistol, but he never imagined how hard. The ten grand he’d had in cash still wasn't enough. In the end, the magical pistol had cost him all the cash he had on him with the added promise of an introduction to Preston Meriwether.

  Finn called Preston to explain. At first, the man refused. When he learned the pistol was for Mila, he changed his mind, but only if Finn updated him on how things played out when she used it. Finn didn't understand that until Preston explained the pistol didn't use bullets. It used raw magic for its projectiles. Finn started to reconsider. He didn't detect magic from Mila. If she was recovering, it might do more harm than good. Finn grilled Timmy on the gun’s properties after that, and he learned it used a tiny bit of magic, although it never pulled more than was available. In the end, he decided it might be a good measure of her abilities without the danger of overtaxing her.

  They struck a deal, and Finn handed over his cash and gave Timmy the number Preston provided. They shook hands again—or, in Finn's case, shook finger—and Timmy packed the gun into a fancy wooden case made specifically for it.

  Finn glanced down the aisles, wondering where Penny had gotten off to, but decided she was a big girl. Knowing her, she was passed out from stuffing her face.

  The ornate gun case under his arm had one more stop to make. He made his way through the Market until he came to a drab brown tent with no signage. Finn ducked inside. The smell of cured leather and polish filled his nostrils as he adjusted to the dim lighting from a of couple old-fashioned lanterns suspended from the ceiling.

  The shop was small, with a middle divider separating the workshop from the sales floor. Racks lined the walls and displayed various leather items, everything from clothing to armor in sizes from tiny to massive.

  Finn fingered a few exceptional pieces on his way to the counter. He set the case down and rang a little bell beside a stack of notebooks. One of the books was open. Finn appreciated the detailed sketch of a leather skirt with sheaths for throwing knives built into the pleats.

  “You like that?” An older Peabrain with a white topknot and a trimmed white beard stepped from the back, wiping leather polish from his hands with a stained rag. “Thought it up after watching Smoking Aces 2. Martha Higareda always ended up stripping to get to her weapons. I thought this was a more elegant solution than fighting in a leather teddy.” He cocked his head. “Not as sexy, but practical.”

  Finn extended his hand and offered a big smile. “Joseph. How are you?”

  The leatherworker’s grip was firm and strong from years of detail work. “Doing great, Finn. How did that belt turn out for your girlfriend?”

  Finn chuckled. “Perfect. That’s why I came here. I need to make an addition to it. Oh, and she’s not my girlfriend.”

  Joseph narrowed his eyes. “Mm-hm. Whatever you say. Though you could have fooled me the way you went on about her. Okay, so what do you want to add?”

  Finn let it go. He turned the case toward Joseph and opened it.

  The man leaned to inspect the weapon, then glanced up and motioned at it. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. You’ll need to handle it to make the holster.” Finn slid the case toward him.

  Joseph pulled the pistol out, turning it over in his hands and examining the weapon’s lines. It wasn't a large gun, six inches from the tip of the barrel to the end of the weapon, but it looked even smaller in Joseph’s thick fingers.

  “Where the hell did you get this?” he asked, before putting it back in the case.

  “Timmy at Whatever. Paid a pretty penny for it.”

  “I bet. This is an Ivar. Extremely rare. One of the few artifacts elves and dwarves made together. The thing is practically indestructible, and it never runs out of ammo. Shit, man, did you sell your soul for this?” He fetched one of his notebooks and opened it to a clean page, then he grabbed a piece of charcoal and began sketching.

  “No, nothing like that. He did charge ten grand though.”

  Joseph’s head snapped up. “That’s it? Ten grand? There had to be something else.”

  “He wanted a meeting with Preston Meriwether. That’s it.” Because of Joseph’s reaction, Finn felt worried. Why had Timmy let it go for so little?

  Joseph narrowed his eyes and did the math in his head. “Either he didn't know what he had, which I doubt, or he has something up his sleeve. Maybe he sees it as an investment.”

  “Could Preston be in danger?”

  Joseph laughed and returned to sketching. “Hell, no. One thing we can count on, that diamond bastard will never slaughter his golden geese. He knows the long game. It comes from being practically immortal. No, if he gets in good with Preston, he’ll ride that train forever and cash in at every stop.” He made a few more lines on the page, and Finn noticed he had completed the rough. Joseph stared at it for a few seconds, then glanced at Finn. “This should take thirty minutes or so if you want to wait, or you could grab a bite.”

  “I need to find Penny before she eats herself to death. I’ll stop back in half an hour. Oh, shit…” Finn’s face reddened with embarrassment. “I gave all my money to Timmy!”

  Joseph waved him off. “I know you’re good for it. You can bring it next time.”

  “Thanks. Sorry about that.”

  “Hey, count yourself lucky all you got taken for was your money. Like they said in Tommy Boy; that guy can sell a ketchup popsicle to a woman in white gloves.”

  “Ketchup popsicle?”

  “Yeah! You’ve seen the movie?”

  Finn shook his head. He had no clue what Joseph was on about. He filed Tommy Boy away for later viewing. “I’ll catch you in a bit. Thanks.”

  Ten minutes later, Finn found Penny in a paper hotdog boat at Gwen the Dryad’s food cart. The tiny woman and dragon were laughing and drawing the attention of everyone around, mostly because Gwen’s piercing laugh cut through the Market’s commotion, and gouts of flame accompanied Penny’s laughter.

  Finn wove around various picnic tables and diners and arrived to hear Gwen tell the end of a filthy joke. Penny clutched her stomach and howled with laugher, shooting geysers of flame into the air.

  “Good fortune to you and your saplings, Gwen,” Finn said, using the formal greeting for a dryad. He liked the spunky old Fey, and courtesy went a long way with her kind.

  “Still a charmer, I see. Princes are at least taught good manners.” Gwen displayed a sharp-toothed smile and batted her large eyes. “You’ll be wantin’ one of my tooters, I suppose? Penny’s ate four already.”

  “I would love one, but I got cleaned out at the last booth, I’m afraid.”

  She opened the fifty-five gallon drum while giving him a narrow-eyed stare. “You paid enough last time. I can spare you a freebie.” She whipped a large pair of tongs from a hook built onto the grill, clacked them, and picked out a good tooter. She plucked the blue larvae off the hot surface and dropped it into a paper boat, then selected a second one and put it in another boat. She handed Finn the first boat and the bubbling glaze over the three-inch larvae let off little clouds of steam. Gwen slid the second tooter to Penny, who cheered before digging in, ignoring the heat.

  “She’s been keepin’ me entertained. That’s worth a fuckin’ tooter, I reckon.” She picked some gristle from between her teeth and sucked air through them. “What else can I do for you?”

  “I was looking for Penny. It’s a bonus she led me here to you.”

  She clacked the tongs in his face, and he flinched. “Don’t give me that line of bullshit. Your charms are useless against me, dwarf. Well, mostly useless.”

  She came out around her grill and hopped onto one of the picnic table benches. Finn joined her, setting his tooter down to cool.

  “P
enny tells me there’s a woman in your life. This the same gal you had that favor made for?”

  Gwen referred to their first meeting. At the time, he had sought someone who could make him a gift for Mila to thank her for her help when he’d first arrived on Earth. The favor was not only his promise to her but a magical artifact obligating him to undertake any favor she asked. By giving Mila the rune-inscribed card, Finn was conveying he trusted her judgment and bound himself to her.

  “The same. But I wouldn't say she was my ‘woman.’ Just a friend.”

  “Okay. Whatever you say, ya dumb shite.” She laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

  Finn took a bite of his tooter. The larvae crunched, the sweet meat exploding in his mouth, sending his tastebuds into overdrive. He let out a groan of pleasure. “Iss reary ‘ood,” he said with his mouth full. A few crumbs shot out, hitting Gwen’s apron.

  She wiped the bits off with a brush of her hand. “I think Penny eatin’ five of the buggers is proof of that. You’re goin’ to have to carry her out of here. She’s eaten her own body weight.”

  Finn stuffed the rest of the treat into his mouth. He chewed slowly, enjoying the flavors. Gwen watched, her large eyes narrowed.

  Finn licked his fingers, not wanting to waste any glaze. He took note of Gwen scrutinizing him. “What? Is some in my beard?” He brushed at his beard, then grabbed his napkin.

  “My tree’s been talkin’ to me,” she said, lowering her voice.

  Finn raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that…normal?” He tossed the used napkin into the empty paper boat on the table.

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course! But what it’s sayin', ain’t.” She cleared her throat. “Those fuckin’ Huldu don't know their asses from their armpits most the time. Plus, I can't forgive ‘em for gettin’ us stranded in the middle of nowhere.” She bit her tongue to stop her rant and waved her hand to bat the thought away. “Long story short, I didn't know who to tell until you came walkin’ around the corner.”

  Finn leaned his elbow on the table. “Well, I appreciate your faith in my judgment.”

  She cackled. “I don't have faith in you, dwarf! Not the way you might think. I have experience! Dwarves don't care for things that are out of control. If I have faith in anythin’, it’s you’ll rip some heads off and put this right.”

  “Thanks?” Finn didn't know if that was a compliment or not. “What is it your tree’s been saying?”

  Gwen’s gaze turned serious. “That the magic around Denver is out of balance.”

  Finn waited, but it seemed that was it. “What does that mean?”

  Gwen put her hands up. “God, you’re dense. It means the magic is in flux. There’s a power close by that’s creatin’ or drawin’ power and not giving it back.”

  Finn still didn’t get it, but he didn't want to say so and look like a fool.

  Gwen was sharp. She saw it on his face and sighed. “Someone is changin’ the raw magic to something unusable. Like pollution in the air. If it gets too bad, we won’t be able to breathe. Dark magic, ya daft idiot. Someone is using huge amounts of dark magic.”

  “The Dark Star!” Finn said too loud and peered around. No one showed signs of watching them. He lowered his voice and leaned toward her. “You’re saying she’s here? In Denver?”

  She nodded. “She’s close.”

  “How long has she been here?”

  “Not long.” She gave him a knowing stare. “Showed up about the same time you did.”

  “The Anthem. It must have notified her the second I crashed. She stole my ship and hid it, but we know where it is. We’re going check it out.”

  Gwen shook her head. “Maybe it was the ship at first, but she’s after you now.”

  “Why is she after me?”

  She slapped him on the back of the head. “Because of this, my prince.” She ran a finger over the royal tattoos under his hair. “I hear things from my tree and from those who pass through here. Word is she’s gotten her hands on the Gjallarhorn. Now, I know you have no clue what that is, because it was the first thing the dwarves built when we got stuck here. It’s an Earth-made object, and trust me when I say it’s trouble.”

  “What is it?” So far, the artifacts Finn had come across were from storage. He hadn't considered things being crafted after the ship got lost.

  “Peabrains say it’s the horn to announce Ragnarok, but that’s religion mixin’ with reality. It is a horn, true, but it ain’t some mystical religious object. It’s a distress signal. The dwarves figured if they could make a horn that could be heard across the universe, someone would come for us.” She laughed. “In true dwarf fashion, it was ambitious and foolhardy. They made a weapon of unbelievable power. One long note can flatten a forest or destroy an army. Hell, it might be loud enough to hear in the dark expanse, but the power it would take might crack the Earth.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I was there when they first used it!” Gwen’s gaze turned hazy with memory. “The world shook, and thousands of lives were extinguished in a single note. The dwarves vowed then to find another way to signal for help.”

  Finn paled. “And she has this Gjallarhorn? Why hasn't she used it?”

  Gwen presented a dark smile. “Because the dwarves, while ambitious, are not stupid. The horn can only be used by a dwarf of royal blood.” She poked a finger into his chest. “And you’re the only royal within a hundred light years.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time he and Penny left the Market, the sun had set. Finn glanced both ways down the alley, lit by sparse lighting. He detected no one and tucked the wooden case under his arm. Joseph had modified the case to hold the gun and also the new black holster. Perfectly formed to fit the gun, the leatherwork even had a spell weaved into it allowing only the wearer of the holster to draw the weapon, keeping it from slipping out or being stolen in a fight. Finn vowed to bring him the money as soon as he could.

  During his conversation with Gwen, Penny had laid on her back, holding her distended belly, which made her look pregnant with quadruplets. Dragons processed a lot of food into raw magic, but even Penny’s fast digestion couldn't alleviate the discomfort from so many tooters. Only once Finn’s errands were finished and they vacated the Market, was she able to move without groaning.

  Finn turned down 21st Street and crunched through the falling snow. Penny settled onto his shoulders, draping her neck and body across the back of his neck so her tail was on one shoulder and her head on the other. It wasn't the most comfortable position for Finn, having to keep his head forward to accommodate her, but he didn't protest, knowing she was miserable from tooter gluttony.

  The muffled sounds of the city sounded far away. The infrequent vehicle made little noise except for crunching packed snow beneath their tires. It reminded Finn of the winter gardens at his father’s palace. The thought of home brought on mixed feelings. A part of him was grateful for the opportunities he’d had, but another part of him resented his parents for forcing him into the army as a berserker, a role he neither wanted or enjoyed.

  He didn’t leave because he disagreed with his father’s politics, or because he found greed for power and money abhorrent—it took him years away to start hating those things. In the end, he left because he no longer wanted to be a killing machine, even if his rage wanted otherwise. Killing was only for certain circumstances. Finn had never shied from it when it was called for, but the way the army encouraged their berserkers to slay indiscriminately sickened him. Stepping away had earned him exile, and he vowed to never return, even if his banishment were lifted.

  Ironically, he had still worked for his father in a way. When he came across dangerously powerful dwarven artifacts, he returned them to the family vaults for use at his father’s discretion.

  Even in exile, he still served the king.

  Finn growled, his blood beginning to boil.

  “Chi?” Penny stroked his hair, concerned by his burst of emotion.

 
“I’m fine. Just thinking.”

  Penny lifted her head as they passed an alley, and she tapped him on the neck, pointing down the shadowy passage.

  Finn turned and squinted into the dark. “What is it?”

  “Shir,” she said, pointing.

  He followed her finger and, as his eyes adjusted, spotted something. Against the wall, halfway down the dark alley, Finn made out two Peabrains harassing a smaller figure on the ground clutching what appeared to be a phone.

  The sight set Finn's blood boiling again, ramping up from his dark thoughts. He set his jaw and marched into the alley. Penny sensed what was coming and stayed perched on his shoulder, stoking her inner fire and burning off the rest of her meal.

  Finn felt her heat on the side of his head, making his ear tingle.

  As he got closer, the Peabrain’s words carried to him.

  “…so fucking weird looking…” One tried to flip their victim’s hoodie back, but the small hand shot up and grabbed the edge to keep it down.

  “What’s the deal, freak? Don't want us seeing yer ugly face?” Both men laughed.

  By the way they swayed, Finn could tell they were drunk. He also figured they were around college age, their hoodies displaying the logo of a local university.

  “Leave me alone!” The small figure kicked one of them in his shin. He danced back and rubbed at the injury.

  Finn felt a flash of fire in his veins. He knew that voice. Remmy.

  He surged forward, his vision turning red at the edges.

  “Fucking bitch!” The uninjured one snatched the front of Remmy’s hoodie and pulling back his fist to strike her.

  “Shitbags!” Finn roared, mere steps from the one grabbing his shin. Finn balled his fist and cocked his arm back.

  The guy stared in a stupefied expression before Finn's fist slammed into his face. He lifted off his feet, flew backward, and landed on his back in the snow.

  “My nose!” he screamed, clutching his face as he tried to crab-walk backward.

  Something slammed into the side of Finn's head, causing him to stumble sideways a step. He turned to see the second guy, his fists up with an enraged look on his face.