Dangerous Desires (2) (The Underground Kingdom)

by Steve Elliott

  I glanced over at her, admiringly. “I can see the difference in you,” I solemnly agreed. “You’re definitely not the hothead you used to be. I think it’s marvellous.”

  “You do?” Thorn said, blushing again. “If there are any differences I think it’s thanks to you,” she murmured, self-consciously.

  “Thorn, sweetie, it’s you,” I contradicted. “You’ve done it all.”

  “Sweetie?” she questioned, curiously. “You’re saying that I’m some sort of a sugary treat?”

  “It’s a term of endearment,” I explained.

  “Really? Endearment?” she asked, flushing a little more.

  “Ah, I think we need to have a little talk later about all of this,” I advised. “Perhaps you’re jumping over a few hurdles that aren’t there, and connecting some dots that haven’t been placed on the page as yet.”

  “What do you mean?” Thorn asked, confused.

  “I mean, Thorn, that maybe you’re seeing a relationship that isn’t quite established,” I explained, as gently as I could.

  Her forehead wrinkled as she worked her way through my explanation and then she glared at me. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she wanted to know, her whole manner radiated a sense of mortal insult.

  I took a step backwards, just in case. “And what do you think I said?” I probed, carefully.

  Thorn clenched her fists, striving to control her anger. “I think you just said that you’re too good for me,” she breathed, crossly. “That you want nothing to do with me and that I’m the last person on earth you’d want to be with!”

  “You detected all that from what I said?” I asked, taking another calculated step backwards. “Really, Thorn, you’re getting carried away. I didn’t say, or mean, anything like that at all. I like you. I really do, but ………”

  Thorn groaned. “It’s always ‘but’, isn’t it?” she announced, bitterly. “I’ve heard it all my life. ‘Arugohumna, I like you but ….’. ‘You’re nice, Arugohumna, but …….’. ‘You’re really something, Arugohumna, but ……’.” She looked at me, despairingly. “Do you realise how many times I’ve heard that? Do you? Everyone says that to me. Just this once, I thought it might be different, you know. That maybe this one time I’d get lucky. That finally someone wouldn’t say ‘but’ to me.” She deflated, her emotions draining out of her like water down a plug hole. “But I guess it’s the same old routine,” she whispered, dejectedly. “Some things never change.”

  “Oh, Thorn, I’m so sorry,” I murmured sympathetically, stepping to her side and putting an arm around her shoulder. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I do want to be with you. I think you’re a marvellous individual. You’re my friend and you always will be. As for any other feelings between us, we’ll just have to wait and see. Let’s not rush anything at this stage. Would you be willing to accept me as a friend for now?”

  In response, Thorn fell into my arms commenced to cry. Utterly astonished, I hugged her and patted her lamely on the back, in an attempt at consolation. It hadn’t crossed my mind that Thorn was prone to crying. I’d always imagined her as being rough, tough and in control (apart from her temper, of course). Her distress didn’t last very long. She quickly pulled out of my embrace and wiped her eyes.

  “Sorry about that,” she mumbled, apologetically. “I didn’t mean to dump my emotional baggage on top of you. It’s not fair on you and I had no right to assume a relationship without your consent. It won’t happen again.”

  “You don’t have to apologise,” I told her. “We’re both stumbling around in the dark and I’m not ruling anything out. It’s just that I’m so unsure of my feelings right now, so it’s partially my fault. I hope you understand.”

  She gave me a sad little smile. “I understand,” she whispered. “I was too hasty, and that’s always been my problem. I rush into things without thinking and regret it later. Chalk up another fault on the board.”

  I took her hand and gave it a compassionate squeeze. “That’s who you are, Thorn, so don’t try to change yourself too much. You’re loyal, honorable, trustworthy, brave and generous. You have a whole swag of admirable qualities. Don’t put yourself down.”

  “You’re such a flatterer,” she murmured, “but you make me feel better about myself.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Enough of this sentimental nonsense,” she exclaimed. “Let’s go to the Rocky Cavern.”

  Chapter 7

  A quick half-hour walk led us to our destination. It was indeed a cavern and it proved to be rocky, so no surprises there. Scattered around inside were piled remnants of food and drink containers, showing that the young Ones were as messy as their juvenile human counterparts. I explored the cavern from top to bottom but didn’t find anything of importance, which was about what I had expected. Outside however, tangled in a bush, and almost hidden from view, I came across a strange artefact. It appeared to be some sort of a medallion, made of stone and attached to a few pieces of broken necklace. I showed it to Thorn.

  “What’s this?” I asked, holding it up.

  “It’s part of a sommubant necklace,” she informed me, taking it from me and examining it carefully.

  “Sommubant?” I enquired, trying to mimic Thorn’s pronunciation, but not quite succeeding.

  “In your language, I suppose you’d call them ‘dwarfs’,” Thorn informed me.

  “Dwarfs?” I exclaimed, astonished. “Why haven’t you told me about them before?”

  Thorn shrugged, dismissively. “The subject never came up,” she explained. “Besides, we don’t get on. They stay away from us and we stay away from them.”

  “Are the One friendly with anyone?” I asked, sardonically.

  Thorn had the grace to blush at my accusation. “Okay, so we’re not the most outgoing race in the world,” she admitted. “But at least, thanks to you, we’re on reasonably good terms with the borgulessa. That’s a start, isn’t it?”

  “I guess it is at that,” I agreed, smilingly. “Which reminds me, we’ll have to go and visit our friend, Nix, at the goblin town soon.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Thorn concurred. “The borgulessa have contacts with the sommubants and Nix may be able to help us with this necklace. But I don’t get it!” Thorn cried, perturbed. “What are the sommubants doing around here? They hardly ever come into our territory! And what has this got to do with that murdered girl?”

  “We seem to have more questions than answers,” I commented. “Perhaps Nix can help us.”

  “Maybe,” Thorn said, dubiously. “It’s worth a try. We don’t seem to be getting anywhere by ourselves.”

  “Let’s go, then,” I commanded, taking medallion back from her. “I’ll have to leave this clone and go back to my own body in the not too distant future. My eight hours must be running out.”

  “You’ll still have time if we hurry,” Thorn told me. “We’ll fly most of the way. That’ll cut down on the journey time.”

  “Lead on,” I offered. “I’ll be right behind you. Just don’t go too fast, that’s all. I’m getting better at flying but I’m nowhere near your level yet.”

  “Weakling!” Thorn declared with a smile. “Very well, then. I’ll limp along like a wounded duck, just for you.”

  “You’re all heart,” I muttered, taking to the air. “But you’re no comedian. Don’t give up your day job.”

  Thorn giggled, showing that she had at least partially recovered from her earlier emotional outburst. I found that to be encouraging. Hopefully, it had eased some of the tension between us.

  “What are these dwarfs like?” I enquired, as I flew beside Thorn. “Are they the ‘Hi ho, it’s off to work we go’ ones, or the type to cut you off at the knees with their axes?”

  “What?” Thorn exclaimed, looking across at me in a perplexed manner.

  I tried again. “These dwarfs,” I began. “What are they like?”

  “They’re mainly peaceful, but they keep to themselves for the
most part,” she explained. “They like to dig tunnels and are fairly heavily into the mining of metals. We trade with them for their ores, but they don’t like mixing with us. We very rarely see them.”

  “I wonder how they’re tied up in this business, then?” I pondered, thoughtfully.

  “Maybe it was just a coincidence,” Thorn postulated. “That broken necklace could have been there for ages.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” I contradicted. “The medallion didn’t have any dust on its surface. Someone dropped it there quite recently.”

  “That’s all we need,” Thorn grumbled. “Something else to confuse the mix.”

  “Don’t be such a wombat,” I criticised. “We need all the clues we can find to point the way.”

  “What’s this wombat thing you keep going on about?” Thorn wanted to know. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I informed her. “It’s a mammal from a country called Australia. It likes to borrow, but it’s cute and cuddly.”

  “So I’m cute and cuddly, then?” Thorn said, peering at me cheekily.

  “I’d have to answer in the affirmative to that question,” I reported, smiling at her.

  “That’s good to know,” she said, turning her face away from me. “But obviously it’s not quite enough,” she added, a little sadly.

  I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I stayed silent.

  Chapter 8

  No further conversation ensued for the next couple of minutes until Thorn suddenly cried out and pointed downwards. I looked in the appropriate direction and saw Nix, of all people, make his way steadily along the rocky path. We immediately dropped down to greet him and we had an enjoyable reunion.

  After all pleasantries had been exchanged, I asked, “What on earth are you doing here, Nix? We were on our way to see you.”

  “And I was coming to see you,” he replied, a broad grin on his face. Then he sobered. “Something serious has happened. One of us has been murdered. The town is in an uproar. As far back as anyone can remember, no one has ever been murdered.”

  Thorn gasped. “A One has been killed as well,” she explained. “What’s going on here?”

  Both of them looked expectantly at me. “Hey, I’m not a clairvoyant,” I protested. “I don’t know any more than you two.”

  “Well, it’s just that you solved the Power Crystal fiasco,” Nix told me, “so I guess I expected another miracle.”

  “We solved Power Crystal thing together,” I announced, firmly, “and we’ll have a damned good try at this one as well. What happened from your end?”

  Nix scratched at the stubble on his chin. “His name was Dugfingbux. I didn’t know him personally but he was a standard fixture in social circles. A bit of a party animal, apparently.”

  “So was Belleamunia,” Thorn broke in, excitedly. “Do you think there’s a connection?”

  Nix raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Belleamunia?”

  “The murder victim,” I supplied.

  “Interesting,” Nix mused. “Maybe there is a link.”

  “Perhaps,” I said, doubtfully. “It’s too early to jump to any conclusions. What else can you tell us?”

  “Apparently, Dugfingbux was at a party but left early,” Nix related. “A passerby found him later that morning. He’d been stabbed several times, but there was no murder weapon found.”

  “That’s almost exactly what happened to Belleamunia,” Thorn chimed in. “It has to be connected!”

  “It’s certainly odd,” I agreed. “Two killings in identical fashion, almost at the same time, in towns where killings are almost unknown ……. yes, definitely odd.”

  “Well, what do we do next?” Thorn demanded.

  “How about a visit to the dwarfs?” I suggested.

  “Dwarfs?” Nix questioned. “Who, or what, are ‘dwarfs’?”

  “He means the sommubants,” Thorn supplied.

  “Oh,” Nix said. “Why didn’t he just say so?”

  “Because I can’t get my tongue around most of your names,” I answered, testily. “Why you can’t have simple one or two syllable names like normal people do is beyond me.”

  “We can’t help it if you lack sufficient intelligence to cope,” Thorn replied, grinning from ear to ear.

  “That’s right,” Nix agreed, playing along with Thorn. “Are you sure you’re allowed out by yourself? I would have thought you’d need some sort of a keeper.”

  “That’s enough, you two clowns,” I admonished, smiling at their antics. “When I want the opinion of a deranged, albeit pretty One, combined with a goblin thug, I’ll let you know.”

  “Are you saying I’m pretty?” Thorn snapped.

  “Yes, I am,” I replied, wondering at her tone. “Very much so.”

  “Well now, that’s different,” Thorn announced, her voice changing amazingly to a seductive purr.

  “Thorn, what the devil are you playing at?” Nix asked, as much at a loss as I was.

  “Just giving Stephen a taste of his own twisted medicine,” Thorn explained, grinning. “I was just trying out his sense of humor.”

  “I think you have to try a lot harder than that,” Nix smiled. Then he gave Thorn a shrewd look. “That ‘come-hither’ voice of yours sounded almost believable,” he observed. “It’s as if you really meant it.”

  “Of course I didn’t,” Thorn maintained, flushing. “It was all part of the joke.”

  “Uh huh,” Nix grunted. “Part of the joke, eh?” He tilted his head and examined Thorn’s face closely. “You know,” he called, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you and Stephen …… ”

  “That’s enough!” Thorn commanded. “We’re not here to discuss my feelings, or lack of them. We have a murderer to catch! Stop fooling about and let’s go!” So saying, she hurriedly strode off.

  Nix leered at me and I shrugged in a noncommitted fashion. I wasn’t going to tell Nix anything. Not that I actually knew anything, anyway.

  Chapter 9

  Another half hour’s travel took us into a canyon, studded with caves. I’d noticed some movement in the dark entrances and whispered, “Are they the dwarfs?”

  “Yes,” Thorn answered. “They stay mainly in the caves themselves, but come out occasionally to trade. Do you still have the medallion?”

  I felt in my pocket. “It’s here,” I replied. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I’m going to offer it to the sommubant king,” she answered,” and see if he can shed some light on its appearance at the Rocky Cavern.”

  “Where will you find the king?” I asked, looking around at the scores of cave entrances.

  “He’ll be in the biggest cave,” Thorn declared, confidently. “Let’s go.”

  We selected the largest cave entrance and wandered inside. I had been anticipating darkness, but was pleasantly surprised at the light emanating from various strangely shaped lamps adorning the walls. Dwarfs hurried here and there on personal errands, scarcely giving us a look. As per the descriptions found in human stories, they were stocky, bearded and of smaller stature than Thorn or Nix. They didn’t, however, carry axes. In fact, they didn’t seem to carry any sort of weapons at all. Thorn had told me that the dwarfs were a peaceful race. So, the human writers had that fact wrong.

  Thorn led the way to the back of the cave where a somewhat larger dwarf, thereby presumably the king, sat on a throne. I wondered idly why royalty always sat on thrones. They looked awfully uncomfortable to me. What was wrong with a good old-fashioned armchair? Thorn bowed to the seated figure and we were summoned forward with a languid wave of the royal hand. Presumptuous little git, I thought, rudely. It surprised me to hear the king speak in a high pitched voice, a little like someone who had inhaled helium. Somehow, I had expected a deep, gruff voice. My concepts of dwarfs were being overturned one by one.

  “Why have you come here?” squeaked the king.

  “A One and a borgulessa have been killed, Your Majesty,” Thorn
answered.

  “That’s extremely serious,” said the King. “I hope you’re not suggesting that any of my people had something to do with it.”

  “Of course not,” Thorn replied, politely, “but there was something of interest close by.” She turned to me. “Stephen,” she commanded, “show the king what you found.” I approached the throne, taking the medallion from my pocket and displaying it. The king bent forward and took it from my hands.

  “Where did you say this was found?” he asked, turning the medallion over in his fingers. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the King’s voice. It sounded so much like the early Disney voice versions of Mickey Mouse. I almost committed the unpardonable social faux pas of giggling at the memory.

  “At a place where the victim was known to have recently been,” Thorn carefully replied. “We were wondering if you could tell us anything at all about the necklace.”

  “Hmmm, perhaps,” the king answered, still staring at the object his hands. “I’m not assigning any guilt here, you understand,” he began, “but this medallion is carried by a certain, shall we say, ……. dissident group who believe that our society shouldn’t have a king.”

  “They want to …… remove you?” Nix asked, in a surprised voice.

  “I believe that is their main aim,” the king acquiesced.

  “And you haven’t done anything about it?” Nix questioned, astonished.

  The king shrugged. “Ours is a free society,” he declared. “Anyone can believe anything they wish, and they are allowed to try to convince others of their beliefs. If sufficient numbers come to the realisation that they would be better off without a king, then that’s how it is. I can’t force them to accept my rule.”

  “That’s remarkably civilised of you, Your Majesty,” I informed him, with admiration. “Other rulers wouldn’t be so tolerant.”

  “As a race,” the king said, “we prefer peace to strife.” He glanced back at the medallion and rubbed it pensively with his thumb. “And that’s what’s so disturbing about all of this. I can’t believe that one of us would be involved in any killing but, if they were, then everything we’ve ever believed is in jeopardy.” With a worried frown, he handed the medallion back to me. “This dissident group tends to meet in a nearby glade, near a waterfall. I’d advise you to go there and see what you find out. For all our sakes.” Bowing respectfully, we made our way out of the cave and met in a group to decide our next line of action.