Zaria Fierce and the Dragon Keeper's Golden Shoes

by Keira Gillett

  The whole tunnel was flooded, and the further they went the higher the water rose, until Zaria was swimming instead of walking. Madam Brown had climbed to the top of Christoffer’s shoulders to avoid getting wet and to stay out of reach of the water-wyvern.

  The deep water delighted Vingar, who took fiendish delight in scaring everyone by turns, as he brushed up against them like ghostly seaweed. Only Hector was safe. Vingar left him alone, which annoyed Geirr, as the blue-eyed teen was the water-wyvern’s favorite target. It was probably the girlish squeal. Not that anyone would comment on it.

  Every now and then, they bobbed together in the near-dark as Hector clicked on the flashlight to double-check their path. The direction hadn’t changed since they’d started. Zaria only became concerned when the ceiling fell steeply and the water rose as a result. Still, they continued to press forward.

  Madam Brown hunched over Christoffer’s head, hindering him so badly he had to drag her off of him. She did not like swimming, and looked like a drowned cat. She trained her beady eyes on the water, keeping an eye out for Vingar.

  If that wasn’t enough of a challenge, the sides of the tunnel narrowed. Vingar, like Madam Brown, sulked in the cramped space. He whined every time he came up for air. Eventually, they had no choice but to go single file.

  “I don’t understand,” Hector grunted from the front.

  Zaria couldn’t see him over Geirr who, along with Filip, blocked her view. She tapped Geirr on the shoulder. He spun around to face her.

  “What’s happening?” she asked in a loud whisper.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t see over Aleks. It’s too dark. Hey – Filip, can you see anything?”

  “No,” Filip said. “Aleks’ big head is in the way. What’s going on up there, Hector?”

  “We’ve hit a dead end. I don’t understand it. How is this possible?”

  “Oh no,” cried Zaria. “What are we going to do now?”

  Hector turned on the flashlight again, waving it at the children. Zaria winced in the bright light, shielding her face with a hand.

  “Watch it, Hector. We can’t see when you do that,” she said.

  “Sorry, Princess,” said the Stag Lord. He aimed the light down into the water.

  “On your left!” she called, as Vingar streaked past her in a blur. “Vingar is coming your way.”

  Geirr hurriedly pulled his feet up, splashing wildly with his arms to avoid the water-wyvern. Filip leaned to the right, pressing up against the wall. Hector shone the light on the creature. Zaria could just barely see him duck between the Stag Lord’s legs and disappear.

  “Where did he go?” asked Aleks.

  “I think he found a passageway,” said Hector. “I’m going to check it out.”

  He inhaled sharply and dipped below the water. The light dimmed, as he sunk to the bottom of the tunnel. Zaria craned her neck to see where he went. A few minutes later, Hector resurfaced, pushing off the antlered hood of his cloak.

  “The way is tight. I’m not sure where it leads, but I won’t be able to go wearing this cloak – the antlers are too large to fit through the space. I also think we’ll have to leave our bags behind.”

  “We can’t abandon it all, though,” protested Aleks. “What about the stargazer, the mirror, and the sword? We need those things.”

  “You’re right, lad,” Hector said, wiping water off his face. “I can’t leave my cloak either. It’s too important. I’ll need it later. We’ll have to shrink them.”

  “I’ll do it,” Madam Brown said just as Zaria said, “I’ll try.”

  The two looked at each other for a minute before Madam Brown said, “I’ll do Hector’s cloak. You try on the sword.”

  “Right-o,” said Christoffer. “Let’s do this, Zaria! Work your magic. Give me the sword, I’ll hold it.”

  She made a face and unbuckled the sheath, handing it all to him. The blade’s golden handle gleamed faintly under the dull glow from the mineral rocks embedded in the ceiling. The amethyst jewels winked sleepily nestled next to the soft sheen of the pearls. The engraved battle scenes on the pommel almost seemed to move in the shifting shadows. The Drakeland Sword was truly beautiful.

  Zaria pulled her hands out of the water and waved them at the sword. “Shrink,” she commanded, thinking perhaps it was the words which allowed her magic to work.

  It sat still in Christoffer’s hands.

  “Try again,” he encouraged.

  She waved her hands again and wished for it to happen, “Shrink!”

  Still, nothing happened. Not even a tingle of magic in her hands. It was useless.

  “I can’t do it.”

  Madam Brown was back then, and in moments had the sword shrunk to half-size. Glumly, Zaria took it back from Christoffer and put it into her pocket. She thanked the brownie, but her heart ached with despair. She would never get this. Shrinking Vingar had been a fluke. Koll had her magic wrapped tightly in his claws, and he would never let it go.

  “You’ll get it,” Christoffer whispered. “Don’t let Koll win.”

  Zaria took a deep breath and nodded. “I don’t want him to, but what else can I do that I haven’t done?”

  “I’ve seen your magic work. Vingar’s felt it. You’ve got it. You’ll learn how to use it.”

  “I hope so,” she said softly, as Hector indicated for them to get ready to dive.

  “You’ll go first, Aleks,” Hector said handing over the flashlight to him. “With your sense of direction, you’ll be able to find the way forward for us, if there are other connecting tunnels.”

  “Don’t worry, guys,” Aleks said, saluting the group. “Just follow me.”

  Aleks dunked himself and started swimming for the underwater tunnel. One by one they dove after him. If the tunnel they were in was eerie, then the new one they swum through was alarming. Something grew from its sides and brushed at their clothes. It was like running into cobwebs, and Zaria shuddered to imagine what horrible thing might live in them.

  At a fork, Aleks took them right and dove again, disappearing around a curve. Zaria felt her ears pop, as she copied him. Her chest was tight with the need to breathe. She fought the urge and kicked vigorously to catch up. The light grew brighter above them, and Zaria looked up.

  A circular light shone inches from her face. Was it the moon? It was so pretty. Zaria reached out to touch it, but Hector jerked her back. She blinked at him dazedly. Christoffer had the same look. Hector shook his head at them both and pushed them after the others before kicking off the wall and catching up in the space of a heartbeat.

  Zaria looked behind her and saw that the light dangled in front of a dark face with large blank eyes. She shuddered in horror. What was that thing? Christoffer looked too, and gasped, losing a bunch of air. He scrambled for his daggers and shook them at the creature.

  Its eyes glinted and twin hands shot out, grasping the hilts. Christoffer struggled, air bubbles erupting from him in a near-constant stream. Zaria grabbed his collar and yanked him hard. She pointed to the others, who were disappearing from view. He gave up his daggers and followed her. They swam fast, kicking hard to catch-up.

  Aleks took a spiraling passageway to their left – up and up they went, and just as Zaria thought she couldn’t hold her breath a second longer, they broke the surface of the water. She sucked in huge gulping breaths and looked around. The others did the same.

  The first thing she saw, when she wiped the water from her eyes, was Vingar. He looked at them, as if to ask what took them so long to find him. As Zaria looked beyond the water-wyvern, she realized they floated in the midst of a man-made grotto.

  The ceiling and walls were magnificently carved in glorious details of trees and vines and flowers. A balcony with a thick, stone, balustrade circled the top of the room leading to a grand staircase with steps that led down to the water. It was lit by the same mineral rocks that had lined the flooded tunnel, becoming part of the elaborate pattern.

  “The o
ld palace,” Hector said, amazed. He spun around to take it all in, leaning far back to view the ceiling. “My grandfather, Henok, said this place flooded during the Dragomir Wars. This was the ballroom.”

  Hope lodged in Zaria’s heart like a hot bright spot and bloomed full-orbed as she registered the lone figure lying at the top of the staircase. “We found him!” she cried out, pointing with joy to the stag. “We found Hart!”

  Zaria and the boys paddled over to the staircase as quickly as they could, all jabbering over one another in their excitement. Vingar, popped up to watch the commotion. Thinking it a game, he cackled and clucked and squawked. His noisy racket bounced around the grotto in a horrendous echo. Hector lingered back and pulled out the arrow-heart necklace he wore.

  “May I have the flashlight?” he asked Aleks. “I want to confirm Hart’s identity.”

  Zaria paused by the steps, treading water. Hector was right to be cautious. She’d been tricked before by Koll, and this could very well be another scheme; but she was almost certain it wasn’t. The glow in her heart beat there steadily.

  She watched as Hector turned on the flashlight and aimed it once more at the stone. It turned a brilliant white and shot out a beam of light, which connected the necklace to the stag on the stairs. It really was Hart! Her joy grew.

  “Thank the Lord,” breathed Hector. “Let’s go rescue my son.”

  Zaria didn’t need to be told twice. She scrambled out of the water and flopped onto the stairs. Using the balustrade to haul herself onto her feet, Zaria flew up the stairs. Aleks took the stairs two at a time, quickly surpassing her. He reached Hart first and stopped, uncertain of what to do next.

  Zaria reached him and gasped. Hart was exactly as Koll had appeared to be in the Under Realm when he disguised himself as the stag. Tears lodged in her throat as she took in the multiple raw wounds from where the chains touched him. His eyes were closed, as he lay passed out on the stone flooring. His sides moved up and down with each shallow breath.

  “Is he okay?” asked Geirr, joining them.

  “Hart, oh Hart,” Zaria cried softly, sinking to the ground beside him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “We need to get him out of the chains,” Aleks said, as the others caught up to them.

  “Princess, you need to get out the sword,” Hector said as he crouched beside his son. He rubbed the stag’s forehead and nose, tenderly waking him. “Wake up, son. I’m here. You’re safe.”

  Zaria pulled the sword from her pocket. The scabbard got stuck in the fabric, and she ended up ripping a hole in her haste. Before Zaria had a chance to try unshrinking it, Madam Brown zapped it with her magic. She didn’t let that bother her. Freeing Hart was too important.

  With the sword returned to its full size, Zaria stood up and walked to where the chains wrapped around a metal ring in the wall. She did a practice swing and then swung with all her might. The chain shattered in one blow, sending out rainbow-colored sparkles, as the chain attached to the ring turned into tiny gemstones.

  They showered off the wall and clinked daintily to the floor. The sound woke Hart. He peered up at them through unfocused amber-colored eyes, as Hector and the boys began to unwind the chain from around his flanks.

  They didn’t get very far before they heard footsteps approaching. Hart reacted strongly to the noise, so much so that Madam Brown had to quiet him by putting her hand over his mouth. Zaria patted him gently on the flanks trying to help. Aleks glanced up and around looking for the source.

  “There,” he said, indicating a hallway that led off from the upper floor.

  “Everyone, get back to the water,” Hector commanded. “Hide. Son, we’ll be right back.”

  Hart snuffled softly and laid his head back onto his hooves, closing his eyes. Zaria rubbed his nose and left, following Christoffer and Filip down the steps, running as fast as they could. Aleks and Geirr were already in the water. When they almost reached the end of the stairwell, the boys leapt into the air and sliced through the water, feet-first.

  Madam Brown used her magic to dry the spots on the floor where they’d all been standing. Hector waited for her to be done, then gave her a push. The two raced down and dove into the water. Zaria went in head-first, almost landing on Vingar; he was not happy about it. Aleks and Zaria shushed him repeatedly, trying to quiet him.

  “Oh, please, please, be quiet,” Zaria hissed at the water-wyvern.

  Vingar lapsed into sullen silence after one last, angry, hiss. The footsteps got louder and more frequent, as whoever it was drew closer. Hector hovered near the steps, his nose barely peeping over the water. Hart bugled softly and struggled to stand up.

  “Don’t get up, lad,” Hector warned, careful to keep his voice to a loud whisper.

  “Stay down,” Zaria added, seeing the danger in it.

  If Hart stood, his captors would notice immediately that he wasn’t chained to the wall. She was already afraid that they would notice the scattered row of gemstones on the floor by where she cut the magical chain. Hart looked at them and lay back down – just in time, too – as a familiar brogue called out.

  “Where be you on the dragon keeper’s golden shoes? Olaf be beyond patient with you, Princeling, but now things be changed. Our time be run out.”

  “I know things have changed,” said another voice. “That stupid girl has ruined everything. Do you know how difficult it was to get the damn mirror in place?”

  Christoffer nudged Zaria. “Who is that?” he whispered. “He sounds familiar.”

  Chapter Six: A King’s Weasel

  She craned her neck to look, but could only make out their feet. Olaf’s were scaly and dirty with yellowed toenails. The mystery speaker wore shiny, black, leather boots. He wasn’t close enough to the balustrade for her to see anything else. Hector pushed her head down and motioned for them to be quiet.

  “Koll be free now, and he be wanting to get topside as soon as possible. If you not be doing your part with the golden shoes, then we be needing to move the Hart tonight to keep him out of the Stag Lord’s grasp. He be our Plan B.”

  “We just moved him here last night!” the speaker complained. “Why do we need to move him again so soon? This place is more secure and forgotten than any other place in Norway.”

  Olaf huffed, annoyed. “Well, in the triumph of the moment, you know I be forgetful and not be grabbing the necklace from the little princess.”

  “You should move him alone since it’s your fault. I need my beauty rest. These handsome good looks do not happen by magic.”

  Zaria could not tell if the person speaking was serious or not. She had to kick Christoffer’s ankles to keep him from sniggering, though.

  “The witch in the woods could be helping you with that,” Olaf said slyly. “She be tricky, though; might turn you into a toad, instead. Olaf think you would be better looking as a toad.”

  “Watch it, troll,” sneered the voice. “If you don’t mind your tongue, I’ll get the witch to turn you into a toad.”

  By now they’d almost rounded the grotto. Zaria could make out Olaf’s ragged clothes and scaly hands. The owner of the voice was behind him, closer to the wall and hidden because of it. As Olaf and his companion came around the curve, Zaria gasped.

  The voice belonged to Prince Floki of Jerndor. She stared at the pair in shock. Why that greasy, slimy, no-good dwarf! And to think, that awful, unpleasant prince had had the nerve to blame her for Koll’s release, when it was he who was the one working with Olaf to free the dragons. She could kick him and claw out his eyes she was so angry.

  “I say we leave the Hart here,” Floki drawled, waving a bejeweled hand at the drooping elk. “It is simply too much bother to move him again. He’s practically a deadweight at this point. Nearly dead I reckon.”

  “He not be dead yet,” said Olaf, nudging Hart with his foot. He moaned softly at the contact.

  “Close enough,” Floki said, wrinkling his nose. “He certainly smells like it.”

>   “You smell like it,” Olaf countered, chuckling at Floki’s annoyed look.

  The dwarf prince pulled out a handkerchief to cover his nose. “We’ll move him tomorrow; if I’m gone for too much longer tonight my father will be suspicious.”

  “He not be expecting the traitor be you, Princeling?” asked Olaf, turning away from Hart.

  Floki turned around, put away his handkerchief, and grinned nastily. “Not yet. He thinks it’s one of his power-hungry lords.”

  Olaf laughed. “When it be a power-hungry son.”

  “He brought it upon himself,” Floki said as he rounded back the way they’d come; already, Zaria couldn’t see his face, but she could picture it, all smug and contemptuous.

  “You be saying that before,” Olaf said, bored.

  “He’s becoming soft in his middle-age. Can you believe he is talking about freeing the slaves? How on earth would we get the ore we need then? Or melt it down without them manning the forges? He’s lost his wits. For us dwarves to live in the comfort we’re used to, we need the slaves.”

  The duo paused in the hallway above, completely hidden from view.

  “You be sure we should not be moving him tonight?” pressed Olaf. “Without the golden shoes, the Hart be our best chance to free Koll from the Under Realm. We be needing only a little more time and then the rotting be complete.”

  “I told you. No,” Floki said, sharply. “My father is looking for the traitor in his territories. He needs his right-hand man – his son – to help him ferret out the weasel.”

  “He’s the real weasel,” hissed Aleks. Vingar echoed the sentiment.

  “It be on your head then,” Olaf said, with a disdainful sneer, “if the Hart be stolen from under our noses.”

  As the duo’s conversation and footsteps disappeared down the hall and out of earshot, the group waited quietly, treading water. When it was silent, Hector lifted Madam Brown out of the water and onto the stairs. Filip got out next and reached a hand for Zaria, hauling her and the sword up and out of the water as Aleks and Geirr scrambled onto the steps.