My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  The Princess marched at the front, her hands dangling to the side, while Daryan formed up beside her. The Knight was armed, while Rosamund chose to wear only the mail of peace. A few scoffed at the idea, but Gavin had to give it some merit. There was no way the dwarves would be welcoming to what was about to happen, why instigate them more?

  He glanced down at the sheet draped over the wagon he and a few other squires were pulling. Snowy's nose prodded it upwards, sometimes the lights of a lengthening day giving the illusion that he'd twitched or breathed below. After years growing up in a hospice, Gavin knew the truth, though it spooked his fellow squires something awful.

  As one, the entire caravan paused right outside the great gate. There were no guards outside, no one wanting to greet them. The dwarves truly wished to be left alone. Rosamund's eyes darted around trying to get anyone to give her ideas.

  "Should I knock?" she asked, waffling on her feet.

  "We should have brought a battering ram," Daryan sighed, staggering onto her feet.

  "Do not even speak such things," Karelle whipped her head at her before turning to stare up at the great wall. "We could wait for someone to...?"

  Fire leapt up into the air dancing straight above the barren lands before erupting into a red and orange flower in the sky. Every head spun over to Myra who smiled and curled her magic fists up. "That should get their attention," she said smugly while bundling her arms behind her back.

  "Your father will hear of this," Karelle whispered towards the wayward daughter but Myra was unimpressed.

  "Course he will. You tell him blighted everything. It's a wonder..."

  "Shut up," Rosamund hissed, her eyes whipping up to the gate beginning to slide open. Every back and head snapped in place to watch as the great stone door began to roll inward. It was slow, the thing seeming to only be capable of moving a few inches a minute.

  Gavin's heart thundered harder in his chest, his fingers digging into the wood of the wagon while he kept glancing down at the body already rotting to bone without any runes around. It was probably horrifying to look under the sheet, the smell difficult even with burning herbs around to mask it.

  After some time, a dwarf slid out between the small gap in the door. He was fully armored, a beard trailing down to his knees. The dwarf twisted a halberd back and forth in his hands, his eyes sizing up the fifty or so people standing on his doorstep.

  "What do you want?"

  "Good sir," Rosie stepped forward, "I humbly request an audience with your queen."

  He glared at their Princess a moment before grunting, "No."

  "Wait! We have a reason to..."

  "I don't care. We're not talking to any of you. We don't want no treaties. No bargains. No trade agreements. Not even any of your Knight cookies. Now piss off!" the dwarf snarled fully, about to spin on his feet.

  "Please," Rosamund was not about to give up, "I beseech you. This is an important matter of life and death."

  The guard rolled his eyes wide, the whites evident under his helmet, "As if I ain't heard that a million times before. What'd I say...?"

  There seemed to be nothing the Princess could say. She turned to Karelle and Daryan, both who remained useless and trapped by protocol. "You will regret this," Rosie began, dipping into a threat.

  "I already do, gel," he muttered, reaching for the door to yank it back.

  Gavin barely thought, his eyes honed in on the body of his friend who would be left to rot unmourned in this heat. He didn't care if the dwarf wasn't Andrastian, if they didn't believe in the Maker or His Bride, Snowy deserved better. "Wait!" Gavin shouted in his booming voice. It carried above the Princess and guard bickering, causing both to whip back to find him.

  "Oh, what now?" the guard whined, about to insist he wasn't paid enough for this no doubt.

  Standing up, Gavin carried in his outstretched arms the body of his friend. The sheet dangled precariously close to his toes, so he stepped carefully lest he rip it off on accident -- or fall. Dropping the body, which would probably cause it to split apart in the tumble, would doom them all. Maybe start a war. Please don't be clumsy now.

  "I have come to return a lost son of Orzamaar," Gavin began, stepping through the people who all quickly turned away.

  The dwarf didn't release his grip to the door, but he was clearly interested now. "Don't know if you heard, but we're all lost sons now. And daughters."

  "This is..." Gavin swallowed hard, aware that every person in the caravan suddenly shifted away to leave him right in the line of sight of the guard, "We believe this to be Prince Vedrick."

  Snapping to attention, the dwarf's entire stance changed in a blink. "You," he glared at the tall human and moved to lift up the sheet, "you think that's our Queen's son in your hands?"

  "Yes."

  "And you brought his dead corpse to our doorstep?" the dwarf was staring hard at him, trying to find the madness lurking inside.

  Gavin nodded, unable to speak out of fear of his lips trembling. No doubt a dozen archers were standing along the battlements ready to perforate him in arrows at a moment's notice.

  The guard rubbed his hand over the helmet as if he was trying to scratch the head below. "Why?"

  "He was my friend," the emotion struck him hard, tears of frustration, exhaustion, anger, and sorrow all building into one.

  No arrows flew from the sky, the guard didn't attack with his weapon at Gavin's response. He hopped back, quickly whispering with someone else inside. Gavin tried to keep his arms steady even as the muscles began to ping from Snowy's weight. The smell was worse, and breathing through the mouth caused the stench of decay to wring down his throat. It was best to hold his breath as long as possible.

  "Alright," the guard turned to the caravan, "you come on," he pointed at Gavin, "with the...body. Rest of you remain outside."

  Everyone dashed forward a step, voices insisting that was not going to happen. Myra's was the most vehement of them all, "Like Andraste shitting in a hamper he will." But this may be the only chance they had.

  Gavin glanced back at her first, before he let his eyes wander over to the woman in charge. "Let me do this."

  "Squire," Rosamund folded her hands tight to her stomach in wariness. Suddenly, she honed in on the guard, "I should accompany him. I am the Princess of..."

  The guard waved her concerns away with a shake of his halberd. "I don't care if you're a paragon. Only him. No one else until we're certain."

  Gavin could hear the threat hanging in his words. If they weren't certain, whatever that meant, there was no chance of him making out of this alive. Still, he had to try. He moved to take a step forward, when Myra made a bleat. It was a near perfect replica of a goat crying and enough to cause him to whip his head back.

  Her cheeks were bright red as if she hadn't meant to make the sound, but she shrugged, "I didn't know what else to, just...Gavin, please..."

  He could read every concern in her eyes and it oddly soothed his own fluttering heart to see them. Tipping his head down, he said, "I will be fine."

  The dwarf snorted at the thought and moved to open the gate for him. "Ah shit, he's a big one. Crack her open wider," he commanded, his head tipped up to the sky. Gavin looked heavenward as well to find a massive gear that led to whatever straps were operating the gate.

  It opened more smoothly than before, giving just enough space for him to walk through with Snowy in his arms. The dwarven compound was not at all what he expected. People knew the roads collapsed and that dwarves set up residence, but he always assumed they lived in tents hiding away behind their walls. There was one building on the surface, its doors closed to whatever hid its workings. A few of the armored dwarves so covered in metal as to barely appear alive walked around on the surface, but there was no one else. No houses, no tents, not even a single fire cooking food for them.

  Was there no one left of the dwarven kingdom but a few crazed dwarves who ran around in their armor pretending it wasn't gone?

  With
a great bang, the gate slammed behind him. Gavin leapt at the sound, his head spinning back as he realized he was fully cut off from his people. Possibly trapped with a few mind addled dwarves who, rather than face the truth, would rather pretend their society remained in tact. What did he get himself into?

  "This way," the guard dwarf jerked his head and Gavin began to walk. He felt every eye peering at him from under the helmets at first taking in the tall human, but eventually they turned to whatever was hiding under his sheet. He could hear a few voices whispering to each other, but none of it was coherent. His blood was pounding too hard for him to have any hope of translating the dwarvish. And your mother never thought it'd be that useful.

  What were the chances a squire or knight would wind up in a dwarven kingdom? Let's focus on elvhen instead, a far more fascinating language. Too bad practically everyone in the New Dales happily spoke common on the trip, and the few who didn't really had nothing interesting to say.

  His guard guide paused before the great doors of the only building. It was well sized, perhaps a small house, but could have no hope of housing more than a dozen dwarves assuming they slept in shifts. Even the guards on display would have troubles fitting in.

  While the dwarf rapped upon the door, Gavin tried to shift his arms which were already crying in pain. He could do this, he had to. Be respectful and...and hope they don't kill you.

  Another sound of gears grinding against metal broke the air, and the doors to the house parted. It wasn't a house inside, nor even a straight floor. The walls and ceiling protected the very center of the cave in, torches lighting the way down into the deep roads themselves.

  The dwarves weren't living on the surface, they remained down below even if it was exposed to the world above.

  "Let's go," the guide commanded first to Gavin, before turning to one of the doormen, "Fetch Queen Nerazda, immediately."

  The doorman bowed and scuttled away while Gavin had to duck to make it inside. For a moment the dwarf noticed how tight a fit it was, but didn't say anything. Picking up the lead once again, the dwarf walked Gavin down the incline and into the deep roads.

  It wasn't easy, Gavin unable to provide any ballast against his sliding heels, the weight of Snowy dragging him downward, but he managed to make it down the shattered ceilings of the roads without falling on his ass. At the bottom, the dwarf jabbed a finger to the right and he began to follow.

  With only the light of the lanterns to guide him, Gavin could feel dwarven eyes poking out from behind every crevice and break in the rock. The gate on the surface was impressive, this looked as if a bunch of squirrels built their homes inside an old ruin. Doors were thrown in front of what looked like alcoves, statues were toppled over to create barriers where... He glanced deep into the darkness and thought he heard scrabbling. Darkspawn?

  Maker, his parents would both kill him if they knew.

  At least the dwarves weren't crazy, but now he was realizing he was carrying the dead body of their prince into a lair swarming with their people. Gavin wished he'd said some sort of goodbyes before following. Written a letter to his parents, at least.

  There was little time to concern himself as the dwarves kept leading him onward. More appeared, these dressed in crimson armor and without helmets. They looked a lot grumpier than the guard, as if that were even possible. And all were very evidently armed.

  Lava erupted suddenly, sparks of red and white hot light blinding Gavin as it sputtered off the side of the road but the dwarves didn't even blink. He reared back instinctively, causing his body to slide a bit. But armored hands gripped into him, holding him up. He wished he could have as much help with Snowy. The dwarf was growing heavier with each step, Gavin uncertain if he could go on any further.

  He was about to ask how long it would take, when the guide dwarf turned and pointed into a room. It looked no different than the others, dark walls coated in black soot, a few lanterns attempting to put out light, tall blocky statues standing towards the back. The biggest difference was an altar sitting smack dab in the middle of the room.

  That was what the guard guide pointed to, "Place the body there."

  Gavin nodded, grateful to have Snowy out of his arms. He tried to be slow, to keep his movements respectful and also to not startle the guards swooping in around him, but he was fighting a losing battle. An inch off of the stone, Snowy finally slipped, the body bouncing a bit as it struck its final resting place. Gavin winced at the foolish move, but none of the crimson guards swarming him drew their weapons tighter.

  They were aimed upon him, a ring of swords that would end his short existence in a moment, but they gave him a bit of breathing room. Digging a hand into his eyes, Gavin muttered, "I'm sorry." He tried to adjust the sheet to cover his friend properly, but it bunched in the drop. One of Snowy's hands emerged from below, the skin a mottled grey-green and swollen so thick it looked like a pillow with nubs for fingers.

  He moved to tuck it back in safe, when every guard suddenly snapped to attention. "Well," a voice oozed confidence, deep as bedrock and more stable than the bones of thedas. Gavin turned around slowly to find a dwarven woman dressed not in a long gown decorated in pearls and jewels, but armor. This was; however, fancy armor -- a house crest set in rubies and diamonds sparkled upon the breastplate. She bore no weapon, but she didn't need it. With a single look, every single guard lifted their swords up and pointed them directly at Gavin.

  "This is a surprise," Queen Nerazda tipped her shaved head to him. "We asked that no humans tread upon our sovereignty, yet here you are."

  "Your Majesty," Gavin bowed down his head, before realizing there was no way he could get anywhere close to lower than her without sitting on the ground.

  Her blue eyes, as sharp as Snowy's, cut through Gavin who could feel them without looking up. "Why have you come to me? Requested an audience no less."

  "Because," he glanced back at the body and his voice caught.

  "I see," Nerazda folded her arms, the gauntlets clanging together as she did so. "You gain entry by claiming to have one of our sons under your sheet. And if you are lying...?"

  "In truth, my Lady," Gavin dug a hand into the side of his trousers, "I wish I were."

  She didn't back down, her shoulders poised, her head high, but her eyes softened. No doubt they told her why he was here, she probably allowed him entrance. But she must have hoped the same, that there was a mistake and the dwarf he carried all the way into the deep roads was not her son. Nerazda took a deep breath, her lips parting, but she remained stoic in face.

  "Lift the sheet," she commanded.

  "It's been quite a few days, your Highness," Gavin began, his fingers trembling at his side.

  "I am well aware of what death looks like," she spat. As Nerazda stepped closer, each of the guards lifted their swords away to allow her entrance before honing them right back upon Gavin. Because he had any chance of escaping this.

  "Pick up the sheet," she ordered again, stopping right above Snowy's bloated face. "Slowly."

  Gavin nodded his head, he had no other choice. Thumbing the top of the ivory linen, he tugged it down to the dead man's neck. Every dwarf in the room gasped. Despite the road and the heat, death hadn't fully rotted Snowy's visage. Gavin had struggled to get the lids closed, having to rely upon stitching them down. The lips were sucking back towards the skull, making it appear as if the dwarf was hissing in the afterlife. And his skin, even by the low light, had taken on the unearthly green and yellow pallor of rot and decay.

  He glanced away, unable to take the sight, while the Queen drew closer. Her eyes brimmed in tears, her voice softening to a whisper, "My Vedrick." Despite the smell, the bloat, the decay, she dipped her forehead against Snowy's and spoke to him. "Blessed Ancestors, protect my boy. Stone accept him."

  A single tear dripped off her cheek to land upon Snowy's forehead, but when the woman pulled back all sorrow was wiped from her face. "Tell the people that our Prince Vedrick is lost to us forever," she order
ed, her voice barely warbling.

  "Yes, my Queen," one of the guards at the entrance bowed and scuttled off to do as commanded.

  For a beat, only candlelight moved inside this tomb. It danced over the glint of the blades all trained upon Gavin, shifted the shadow of a mother mourning her son across his corpse. Time stilled to nothing, each thump of his heart slowing to match a held breath.

  "You come to my home, bearing the body of my dead son," Nerazda's voice rose in a hiss, every guard tightening at the sound. Gavin swallowed, wishing to latch onto a hilt at his side, but he was unarmed and defenseless. They'd cut him to ribbons in a second.

  "This seems a very foolish move on your part, human," her head whipped over at him and all the guards stepped forward. Metal glinted in every direction, ready to slice him to pieces in an instant. "Why? Why risk your life in such a manner?"

  "Because," Gavin bit down on his lip and turned from the burning hatred in a vengeful mother's eyes to Snowy's body, "he was my friend and...he deserved proper rites. Even if..."

  Nerazda lifted up a hand, the fire dimming in her eyes, "Even if it cost you your life?"

  "I," Gavin shrugged and choked out a laugh, "I hadn't thought of it that way, but...I guess?"

  The mother and Queen tipped her head and stared up higher at him. "You're not very old, are you?"

  "No, well, I'm seventeen," he said, uncertain what counted as old for a dwarf.

  Nerazda smiled painfully a moment, her eyes darting to the body, "The age when Vedrick... He seemed so young then. He still was." Her armored fingers caressed Snowy's cheek. "What is your name?"

  "Gavin," he answered, tipping his head lower.

  "That's the whole name?"

  "Ah, no. Gavin Rutherford," he finished before glancing around at the dwarves. They knew nothing of the surface politics, of what occurred years before his birth, of why his mother had to hide. And something in this woman's shared pain made him not want to lie even by omission.

  "Amell, Gavin Rutherford Amell."