“No, never,” Aleks said with a laugh from somewhere above.
Christoffer also called down. “You know for a species that thrives on fire, dwarves sure do love their water.”
Zaria looked up and saw the two boys standing on a parapet at the top of a tower, which emerged from the cave wall like the stairs that wrapped around its outside. Christoffer was on Aleks’ shoulders, the two of them not even having the decency to stand on the roof. Instead they stood on the semi-carved and crumbling parapet.
“Get down from there before you fall,” she demanded, charging through the water after Geirr.
“Whoa, take it easy, Zaria,” Christoffer said, offering a supplicating hand. “Relax. We’re not up here for nothing.”
“Just look,” said Aleks, tilting his head back. “We’ve been trying to undo this latch, but it’s stuck.”
Zaria glanced up higher and frowned. Above their heads, stuck in the ceiling, was a metal hatchway with a round wheel. She didn’t like the idea of them trying to open it.
“If you open that, will more water come flooding through?” she asked. “This whole palace is a disaster zone.”
A sharp, high-pitched bugling noise interrupted them. They all turned to look, and saw, to their amazement, a wet, bedraggled elk come shooting out of the pipe. Hart tried to regain some of his dignity, but then poor Madam Brown, who looked about as happy as Vingar did, hurtled from the pipe and landed on him, flattening him to the ground, and sending out a wave of water.
Just as the duo staggered to their feet, Hector came sliding, managing to look regal and nonchalant. Hart snorted in disgust, which was echoed by Vingar. The Stag Lord looked around the small chamber and made his way to the boys, who had gone back to trying to open the hatch.
Zaria wrung out her hair. “If they open it, will we be drowned by the quarry lake?”
“I don’t think so,” Hector said, climbing the stairs, with Geirr and Filip following.
Geirr looked back at her and said, “Why would a dwarf king want to escape to the bottom of a lake?”
“He wouldn’t,” Christoffer replied. “That’s why Aleks and I think it’s safe to open.”
“Let me help with that,” Hector said, climbing onto the parapet.
With his bulk and longer arm reach, the Stag Lord quickly broke the seal on the hatch and opened it for them. Hart and Vingar ducked, expecting an influx of water, but nothing came. Zaria leaned against the steps and peered up from her spot beside Hart.
A metal ladder hung inside the hatchway. It led up another metal pipe and disappeared into darkness. There was no way for Hart or Vingar to go up it – and as far as Zaria could see – no other way out.
“What now?” she asked. “Do we use magic and shrink Hart and Vingar?”
Vingar screeched and dove away from her, hiding, petrified by the very thought. Zaria ignored his histrionics.
Madam Brown rubbed her nose and ears, drying herself. “I might be able to shrink, Hart, but we shouldn’t. He needs time to heal. We could fashion something to carry them with instead, and pull them up once we reach the top.”
“In that case,” Aleks said, dumping Christoffer off his shoulder, “we best get moving, because we know Olaf is right behind us.”
He jumped from his spot on the parapet and grabbed the bottom ladder rung. He hauled himself up and soon pulled his feet up and out of sight.
“Yes, go. All of you. Quickly,” Hector said, helping Christoffer climb up next.
“I’m right behind you,” said Filip, waiting for him to climb several feet. “We’ll need all of us to pull up Hart. He’s not exactly a lightweight, you know.”
“I guess I’m next,” Geirr said after Filip left. “I really don’t like heights.”
“At least it’s kind of dark, right?” Zaria said. “Just don’t look down.”
Geirr threw her a look and then clambered up the ladder. As the boys climbed, Zaria joined Madam Brown in trying to put together a sling for Hart, who would be the most challenging to outfit, because of his size. She emptied her backpack and tossed out what was ruined – which was everything except her clothes. Thank goodness she had only brought with her copies of the maps and not the real deals.
When she was done, she held it aloft and said, “Will this work if I make it bigger?”
“Almost,” said Hector, leaning over the short wall. “Here. Use this.”
He handed her a knife, hilt first, from his bag. She took it between two fingers and frowned up at him. “What do I do with this?”
“Cut some holes in the backpack for his legs before you make it bigger. That way there’s less to cut.”
Zaria took a few moments to butcher her bag and stared down at her handiwork when she was done. Her parents would kill her without a second thought, if they had seen her destroy things they had bought her. She could only hope that when school started again, they’d be willing to buy her a new bag, as there was no saving this one.
“I tis ready for Vingar,” Madam Brown said, holding up a sling she had made for the water-wyvern out of her apron. “I not carry him though, wretched beast. I still remember those teeth.”
Hector laughed and took the sling. He put it around his shoulder and got out his gloves so he could pick up the water-wyvern without getting scratched. He came down the stairs and slogged through the water after Vingar. The wily creature evaded him at every turn.
While Hector cornered Vingar, Zaria concentrated on enlarging the butchered backpack. In her mind’s eye, she tried to picture Hart sitting in it, but that seemed too far-fetched. Instead, she thought about doubling it. That she could readily see, and when she waved her hand at the bag it instantly doubled.
She pictured it larger in size again, and again, bringing the backpack closer to Hart’s size with each successful spell. Hart helped her out by stepping into the front leg holes. When she could see how much longer it needed to be to fit around his hind legs, she could visualize the difference. A little wave and a soft murmur later, the bag fit Hart like a glove.
He looked very silly and extremely uncomfortable. She guided him up the stairs to the landing, meeting Hector who was carrying Vingar like a baby across his chest. Zaria could just see Madam Brown’s shoes disappearing out of sight, as she looked up the ladder.
Loud bangs, clunks, and snarls issued from the pipe. Zaria looked over in alarm. “They’re coming!”
“Quick, up the ladder,” shouted Hector, giving Zaria a boost. “When you get to the top, give the boys this rope. I’ll stay here with Hart.”
Zaria slung the rope over her shoulder and hurried up the rungs. She raced, hand over hand, climbing faster and faster, higher and higher in the muted gloom. Soon the light from below faded and a light from above grew brighter.
“Come on, Zaria,” Christoffer called. “You’re almost there. Is Hector coming up next?”
“No,” she yelled. “He’s staying behind to protect Hart. Olaf and Floki are coming through the pipe now.”
“I can’t imagine Floki doing that,” Filip said, leaning his head over the opening. “He seems too narcissistic to jump into a slimy old pipe.”
“If you’re going to block the light, at least take the rope,” Zaria said, taking the heavy coils and tossing them upwards.
Filip caught it and began to unravel it. He handed one end to Aleks and dropped the other end down the pipe. It slithered past Zaria as she scrambled up the last dozen rungs. Geirr gave her a hand and hauled her up and out.
When she stood on the ground, Zaria could see they were in the middle of a dense woods. Muted sunshine trickled in from overhead. Madam Brown scurried to and fro in the woods around them, picking at the vegetation, looking for something.
The hatchway they’d just come through, Zaria noted, had an identical seal on this end as the one they’d opened in the ceiling far below them. She found that odd, because hadn’t Hector said the only way into Malmdor from the outside was the quarry lake? She didn’t have time to dwell
on it now.
They had to get Hector and Hart up to safety. Then they could slam the hatchway shut and lock it into place, trapping Olaf and Floki on the other side. With Olaf and Floki unable to follow them anymore, they could run off safely to Gloomwood Forest and shore up the Golden Kings’ defenses.
As she turned back to them, Zaria saw that all the boys held the rope, feet braced. The anticipation among them was palpable. She joined them and waited. The wait wasn’t long, and soon the rope drew taut twice.
“That’s the signal,” cried Aleks. “Pull!”
Christoffer cheered and leaned back on the rope. Zaria threw her weight into it and felt the rope give just a little. Hand over hand, they tugged the rope back. It was slow going in the beginning, pulling Hart off the floor.
“Man, is he ever heavy,” Geirr grunted, sweat beading on his brow.
“Just keep pulling, mate,” Filip said. “Not too much longer. The climb up wasn’t that long, right?”
Geirr grimaced as the rope burned his hands. “Don’t get my hopes up. What’s this guy eat anyway? Plants did this? He’s got to be supplementing.”
Aleks’ laugh was more like a pant. He yanked on the rope. “Everybody, together now. Heave. Ho! Heave. Ho!”
“Only you would think of nautical terms right now,” Zaria said, from the back.
“But is it working?” Aleks countered with a grin, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose. He was in his element. “Heave. Ho!”
She laughed, and they all joined him in his chanting, working together to bring their ellefolken friend steadily up the pipe. The rope coiled around their feet as they pulled Hart up and up. Zaria ignored the calluses forming on her hands.
As Hart’s antlers cleared the hatchway a pained grunt echoed out. Sounds of fighting could be heard coming from below. How far down the fighting was, Zaria didn’t know, but she knew they had to hurry. With a mighty effort, the kids threw themselves backwards, and Hart scrambled out of the pipe, kicking his hooves, searching for purchase. He collapsed on the ground with a grunt.
Madam Brown reached him first, and began to hand feed him some of the leafy things she’d gathered. Hart was grateful for the food. He chewed on everything offered with gusto. Zaria reached him next and crouched down, running a hand along his flanks.
“Hello, friend,” she said. “How was the trip up? Bumpy?”
He snorted and seeing there was no more food, closed his eyes, resting his head on his legs. A loud clanging jerked their attention to the hatchway. A new set of antlers appeared over the top, followed by a familiar face covered on one side with blood.
“Hector,” Zaria shouted, jumping to her feet and racing to him.
She and Geirr reached him and hauled him through the hatchway. He was a bloody mess – sticky, matted hair, his white cloak stained red, and a gash on his leg. Even the sling he wore around his body was soaked in blood.
“Shut the door,” Hector growled, clutching at Geirr and pushing Zaria toward the hatch. “Do it now.”
Geirr collapsed under Hector’s weight as Zaria hurried to the door. Trembling, she grabbed it and started to swing it closed. A scaly hand gripped the edge of the opening, blocking the door’s path. Zaria shrieked in surprise.
“Hello, Princess,” snarled Olaf. “You not be escaping me this time. Hart be mine. The sword be mine. You be mine.”
Zaria narrowed her eyes. “Never,” she hissed, and slammed the door on his hand.
Olaf howled in anger. The fearsome noise of it reverberated through the woods. He heaved himself upwards and pushed against the door. She yelped and threw her weight on the metal door, struggling to keep Olaf in the tunnel.
“Help!” Zaria begged, knowing she couldn’t stop him.
If he wasn’t blocked, Olaf would escape, and it’d be all over. Suddenly, Christoffer and Filip were there, helping her. They leaned on the door, and together the three of them managed to push Olaf down.
The river-troll fought them with every bit of strength he had. He resisted their efforts to close the door, and guffawed when they tried to peel his hand off the edge. Frustrated, Christoffer kicked at Olaf’s hand, still clutching the opening.
“That be not nice, boy,” Olaf growled, grabbing Christoffer’s leg and pulling it out from under him.
Christoffer fell like a sack of bricks with a yelp of surprise.
“Are you okay?” Zaria shouted.
“I’ll let you know when I can breathe again,” he wheezed.
“What are we going to do?” Zaria said to Filip, as Olaf heaved against them again, gaining more ground. His whole arm was through the opening now.
“Don’t give up,” Filip panted, planting his feet in the dirt to keep from sliding away.
Aleks appeared with an arrow notched in his bow. He let it loose, and it lodged in Olaf’s hand. The river-troll snarled and let go to pull it out. Zaria and Filip used all their combined strength and slammed the door down.
Aleks tossed the bow aside and hurried to seal the latch, spinning the wheel shut. The hatch lurched as Olaf tried to force it open. The river-troll roared in rage, frightening them. Zaria nearly jumped out of her skin.
“This be not over yet, Princess,” Olaf said, his words dulled by the door. “I be seeing you on the bridge soon enough.”
“Oh, yeah,” Zaria huffed. “Well, good luck crossing it without the proper footwear.”
Geirr swore. “You know, I almost forgot that this boils down to some girl’s shoes.”
“Don’t worry,” said Hector, sitting beside Hart as Madam Brown tended to his injuries, some of which had reopened in the struggle.
“What happened to you?” Christoffer asked. “You’re an ugly sight.”
“I had to fight off Olaf,” Hector said, grimacing under a touch from the brownie to his temple.
“Did you lose?” Filip asked dryly.
“It’s my own fault. I should have carried Vingar differently. His skin is sharp enough to slice through two layers of clothes when he thrashes about in a panic. Horrible beastie,” he said affectionately, rubbing his gloved hand lightly on Vingar’s head.
“How is he?” asked Zaria, looking at the softly snoring water-wyvern. “Don’t we need to get him to water?”
“Uh, hello,” Geirr said, waving his hands at them to get their attention. “Forget about Vingar for a moment. How are we going to get these blasted magical girly shoes?”
Hector chuckled and closed his eyes. “Don’t worry. I know where to go for that. You all did well. Rest. You’ve earned it. Olaf will have to go the long way now.”
“Yeah, he’ll have to figure out how to climb back up that water slide,” Aleks said, sniggering. “I bet that’s going to be tough.”
“Not as tough as wearing girly shoes,” Geirr muttered.
“I can’t see them doing much for your figure, mate,” Filip said, yawning. “The things we do for you, Zar-Zar, I hope you appreciate them.”
She gave him a funny look. “What makes you all think the shoes are going to be heels?”
“Because they’re magical shoes,” he said with a shrug. “Cinderella, Dorothy, you name it… magical shoes are for girls, created by girls, so of course they have heels.”
“The seven-league boots are magic shoes. They’re not heels,” Zaria defended.
“Yeah, well,” Aleks started. “Your mama’s –”
“Are we telling ‘your mama’ jokes now?” Christoffer cut in. “I got a good one. Your mama’s so –”
“Don’t you dare,” Zaria warned, shaking a finger at him. “Finish that joke at your own peril.”
The four boys all looked at each other and laughed.
Chapter Nine: The Elf Queen’s Army
In the afternoon, Hector led the group in a southerly direction toward a large lake. When they reached it, everybody threw themselves to the ground to rest, as he knelt down by the water and undid the sling that carried Vingar. The water-wyvern made a joyful noise and dove straight in, makin
g a splash. He played along the shore and disappeared, only to return a few moments later.
He screeched at Zaria and did a flip as if to say, “Make me big. Do it now. I’m ready.”
Zaria stood in front of him and remembered the terrifying experience of trying to shrink such a large creature. She could almost see him in her mind’s eye, but just as the picture formed, it popped, and disappeared.
Vingar wasn’t the terror he used to be. Not anymore. He was now like a beloved, mischievous pet who got into trouble and then wanted you to play with him as a reward for his bad behavior. She wasn’t sure she could return him to his humongous size.
He cackled at her trying to hurry her along. She screwed her eyes shut and concentrated. With effort she pictured him twice as big as he was now, and waved her hands, saying, “Grow!”
The little water-wyvern shot up instantly as the magic left her. His head swiveled every which way to check out his new size. He turned back to her and glared.
“I know,” she hissed at him. “You’re just not scary anymore, so I have to work up to it, okay? Be patient.”
He chattered at her and held his whole body out of the water. He looked ridiculously cute, even double his previous size, with his long, seahorse snout and wavy crest. Zaria thought about how he used to be, bigger, like a bus; how he swam in the water like a dark, gray, streak. She remembered the wind of his eel-like tail slashing through the air.
The magic left her easily then, and she hardly had to wave her hands or whisper, “Grow.” Vingar grew, doubling and redoubling in size until he was once again a majestic beast, with teeth as sharp and as deadly as a great white shark. He waved his small arms in the air in glee.
Hector looked him in the eye. “You’re free now. Try not to eat the humans, all right? They don’t take kindly to that sort of thing. You’d be hunted down.”
Vingar bared his teeth and snapped his jaws.
“Fine. Don’t believe me. But ask yourself this, why do we all – dwarves, fairies, elves, ellefolken, giants, and brownies – take the trouble to hide from them?”
Zaria Fierce and the Dragon Keeper's Golden Shoes Page 9