by Lori Devoti
The garm tilted his head and studied her for a second. “I can send you, but the place is empty. The witch that lived there disappeared, and her hellhounds are roaming free. Where have you been that you didn’t hear of it?”
Amma clamped her teeth together, hiding her shock.
“Really?” Joarr glanced at her. “Does this witch have any dwarf companions?”
Amma’s fingers tangled in her skirt. Her sister Lusse was missing, her hellhounds released. Something horrible had to have happened. Lusse would never have abandoned her kennel.
She stared at Joarr, keeping her gaze blank, although her mind was scrambling. Her other sister, the third in their triad, didn’t have a settled home like Lusse. Amma had no idea how to contact her, not one hundred years since their last meeting. Besides, while Lusse had never been exactly warm and loving, Huld was the definition of cold and calculating. She would, Amma had no doubt, sell Amma’s every secret for the smallest of profit.
If Lusse was missing, Amma truly had no one—except her secret. Her hand drifted back to her abdomen.
Joarr continued to watch her, his gaze hard.
To divert attention, she stiffened her shoulders and forced a scowl onto her face. “We were attacked outside, then again in here. You always run your portal like this?” She raised a brow.
The garm seemed unimpressed. “I thought I made it clear—I serve drinks and operate the portal. You’re worried about your safety, you should stay tucked in your little bed.” He turned back to Joarr. “You have another destination?”
After one last thoughtful glance at Amma, Joarr replied, “I thought perhaps you might have one for me. Is someone, somewhere, looking for a dragon?”
The garm cocked his head. “Dragons haven’t frequented the portals lately.”
Joarr sighed. “Not my older and wiser betters perhaps…but me? How could I resist all this charm?” He motioned to the room behind him and the disheveled patrons nursing their drinks.
The garm pulled a mug out from under the counter and filled it with beer. Without looking, he slid it down the length of the bar to the dwarf whom Amma had noticed earlier. If Joarr noticed the small being, he made no sign.
Looking back at Joarr, he said, “I don’t believe you’ve paid for your water yet, and a tip for the service. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to forget that.”
Joarr pulled a small sack from his pants pocket and slid it onto the bar.
The garm eyed the bag for a second, distrust clear on his face. After a sideways glance at the dragon, he pulled the tie loose and poured out the contents. Gold powder spilled across the wood. Surprise rounded his eyes. “This looks like—”
Joarr sighed. “Treasure. Yes, I’m sure it does. And being a dragon and all, I really shouldn’t part with it. Greed. Our fatal flaw, etcetera, etcetera.” He placed both hands flat on the bar top and leaned forward, pulling Amma forward, too, and revealing the manacles that attached them.
The garm glanced at the cuffs, but his expression gave away none of his thoughts.
Joarr tapped one finger on the wood. “So, are there any destinations I might be interested in visiting?”
The portal guardian turned his body to the side, blocking the dwarf’s view. “As it happens, something came across yesterday. Free passage for any dragon. You think you’d like to visit?”
Joarr smiled and reached for Amma’s hand.
The garm held up one hand. “This offer, it was for a dragon traveling alone—no other dragons, no…companions.”
The dragon’s eyes glittered. The scent of warm spice, a mix of cinnamon and clove, rolled off him, but he smiled and pulled out a second bag of gold.
The garm glanced at the bribe, but made no move to take it. “Being a portal guardian is an important role. I take it seriously—if I don’t there are a hundred other garm ready to step into my place.”
Joarr’s eyes flickered.
The garm crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course, this destination, it isn’t off-limits to anyone. Someone could come along and ask to go there, pay and I’d have to send him—” he glanced at Amma “—or her.”
Joarr made a growling noise deep in his throat. “And where would this destination be?”
The garm walked a few feet to his right and grabbed a dirty beer mug. “Now, that would fall under ‘restricted information.’”
“Then how—?” Joarr’s hand tightened around Amma’s; heat flowed from his palm. But his face remained calm and his posture relaxed. Still, she could feel an eruption coming.
“Perhaps,” she jumped in, “someone might say, send me where he went. Don’t change that dial, follow that horse, whatever verbiage she chose?”
The garm smiled. “Yes, I think that would work.”
He reached for the gold and dropped it into a drawer.
Joarr wrapped his fingers around Amma’s hand but made no move to walk around the bar to the portal.
Amma could sense tension thrumming through Joarr’s body. She knew the garm’s game had pushed him. She placed her hand on the dragon’s arm, then immediately, surprised at her own actions, pulled it away.
Her touch, however, seemed to calm him. He pulled another bag from his pocket.
He stepped forward, until he was staring directly into the garm’s eyes. “Are you sure this is the only option?”
The garm picked up his towel and tossed it on the bar top. “Completely.”
Joarr turned to Amma, his gaze sharp.
She held up her wrist, the one with the manacle. “You realize this wasn’t keeping me with you, don’t you? I am a witch. I know enough about magic to know that its spell was broken out there.” She nodded toward the door, to where they had fought off the dwarves. “You don’t fix that by bending a little metal.”
He frowned, and she smiled in return. He hadn’t repaired the magic in the shackles. In other words he’d underestimated her—always a good thing, for her.
Joarr turned back to the garm. “If you know dragons at all, you know I won’t need the portal to get back to you.”
The garm’s lips lifted on one side. “Are you insinuating I might cheat you? That there might be some reason you’d want to find me later?”
Joarr’s fingers tightened around Amma’s hand. “I’ve found it pays to be untrusting.” He tossed the bag of gold onto the bar. “Make sure she follows.”
The cold band of metal still around her wrist, Amma waited. She was afraid if she offered her hand to Joarr, acted too interested in having the manacle removed, he would change his mind and come up with some other way to get to wherever it was they were going.
Finally, when the garm was positioned next to the portal and Joarr was ready to step through, he grabbed her hand. “Will you run?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” she whispered. She didn’t know what made the truth fall from her lips. She hadn’t decided. She wanted the chalice, wanted anything that could insure her child’s safety, but Joarr scared her. The fact that she had passed up two opportunities to attack him and leave scared her.
He brushed her hair from her face and bent to whisper in her ear. “If you don’t, if you follow me and help me, we can work out a deal.” He blew hot then cool breath against her neck, sending shivers down her body. “I can make your time worth your while,” he finished.
He grabbed the chain in both hands and jerked it into two pieces.
Amma was free. She wrapped her fingers around the length of chain that hung from her wrist and watched Joarr walk through the portal, his head high and his shoulders square. She waited, expecting him to look back, but he just moved forward in total confidence.
When he was gone, when the portal had converted back to nothing but a mundane doorway, the garm looked at her. “Your passage is paid. Where would you like to go?”
She gripped the chain until her fingers ached, and stared at the doorway.
Where would she like to go?
* * *
Joarr stepped through the portal al
one. It opened onto a dark street lined with blinking neon signs that advertised cheap rooms and all-nude dancers. The temperature was cool but not cold, and the pavement beneath his feet was wet.
Could be any number of worlds or in-between places. But something fairly well populated.
He sniffed the air. The distinct scent of human came back to him.
Interesting. He had been to the human world only a few months earlier, but aside from that it wasn’t a place he’d visited much. There really wasn’t much here for a dragon. Actually, the place made him uncomfortable. It was the only one of the nine worlds where he was expected to hide his powers. It was a bit of an unspoken law—hiding from humans the existence of the other eight worlds and the beings that populated them.
He found it tiresome.
With a resolved sigh, he stepped onto the sidewalk and leaned against a deserted brick building. If Amma was going to follow, she would be along soon.
If she wasn’t… He twisted his lips to the side. Where would she go? And did it matter? As he’d admitted to himself earlier, he didn’t need her, not with someone offering to hand over the chalice. But he’d gone to so much trouble to catch her, letting her go had seemed wrong.
Something gouged into his back—a rock that had been embedded in the concrete to add decoration to the building. He adjusted his stance and resisted the urge to calculate how long he had been waiting.
If she came through the portal, would that mean he should trust her, or question her motives all the more?
Something flickered, a flash in the darkness and a faint whirring noise. The portal, surely.
Joarr tensed but didn’t move. He didn’t want the witch to think he was eager to see her—but he was. With that disturbing realization weighing on him, he waited for Amma to appear.
Someone short and dressed in black stepped into the street. Glancing from side to side, scanning the area for something or someone, the being stepped forward. A neon sign that had previously seemed dead flashed to life, catching the all-too-clear profile of a dwarf in its glow.
A trap. The witch had tricked him.
* * *
Amma stepped through the portal. She hoped she’d made the right decision. She had waited until it was almost too late, until two elves had approached and asked for passage. The garm had given her a now-or-never look, forcing her to stop thinking and just move.
As her foot landed on wet pavement, something hit her from the side, knocking her to her knees. She cursed and pulled the tiny reserve of power she’d gathered into her hands. Arms wrapped around her, shoving her to the ground. A hand covered her mouth. She cursed again, then unwilling to let go of her magic until absolutely necessary, she found bare skin and bit down.
Joarr hissed against her ear. “Surely you can do better than that. Call off your partners or I’ll blow an arctic wind through your skull.”
She twisted her head to the side, pulling her face free from the dragon’s now-bleeding palm. His blood clung, thick and warm, to her lips. She rubbed her mouth across her shoulder. “What is wrong with you? I thought you wanted me to follow you. Is this how you make it worth my while?”
“Don’t play games. You fooled me once—you won’t again.”
Something whizzed overhead.
His hand on the back of her neck now, he shoved her lower. “I don’t know what deal you’ve made, who you are working with or why, but you might want to rethink your partnership. They seem as willing to take you out as me.”
“Maybe because I have no partners.” She flung back an elbow, hitting Joarr in the gut. “I’m here of my own free will, to work with you…for pay.”
He raised his head. Cold air flowed from his mouth and with it, balls of ice that smacked into a metal trash can a few feet away.
Three bodies rushed forward. They were short and dressed in black and in their hands were axes and swords.
“Dwarves,” she muttered.
“Yes, dwarves. What else?” His hand moved to her back and with a hard thrust pushed her flat on the ground. Above her she heard a roar, then crackles. The temperature soared. A few feet away there were screams. Then the unmistakable stench of burning flesh. The dwarves were toast.
She pressed her palms onto the pavement and pushed herself up. Joarr didn’t stop her.
But once she was on her feet he watched her. Suspicion shone from his eyes.
“Why should I trust you?” he asked.
Her shirt and skirt were wet. The thin cotton of her blouse clung to her breasts and tiny bits of gravel had embedded themselves into her skin. She brushed her hands over her body, knocking as many free as she could and then stared at him. “I can leave.”
“Yes, you can. So, why are you here? What do you hope to gain?”
She gritted her teeth. He said he wanted her to follow him, then when she did… She turned on her heel and started to walk away.
He grabbed her by the arm and twirled her back around. “Talk to me.”
His voice was at least low now, encouraging rather than demanding.
She swallowed. She wouldn’t tell him the truth, that she wasn’t sure why she had followed him, or even a partial truth, that she wanted the chalice for herself. Instead she’d stick with the lie she’d concocted at the bar.
“You said you’d make it worth my while. I’ve been locked out of my body for one hundred years. Anything I had is long gone. I have nothing.”
“What about your home?” He’d moved to the side. His face was lost in shadows, but his tone sounded concerned. It stopped her for a moment, made her wonder again if she should have run.
“I don’t have a home. I never did. I just stayed with one sister or the other, and only one of them had a real home. The other roamed, and not to nice places.”
“The witch with the hellhounds, the one that is missing.”
She nodded. “With her gone…” She let her words drift away. Her position was evident and what she had said was horribly true. She had nowhere to go. Wherever she went from here, wherever she wound up calling home now, would have to be of her own creation. She dropped her gaze. She hadn’t considered her situation before, not really.
She had no one and nowhere to go.
Joarr sniffed the air. “Humans,” he announced. “Have you been here before?” He moved out of the shadows; the fingers of one hand twisted the manacle that still hung from his other wrist.
Amma let out a breath. “When you—” She motioned with her hand. Joarr and his hellhound friend had captured her in the human world.
“Before that.”
“Do you mean, is this where I sold the chalice?” She shook her head. “No, I went to Nidavellir.” The underground world of the dwarves. She had expected to hate the land, but to her surprise, the small, twisting tunnels had made her feel safe, perhaps even bold. “A cave, far underground. It wasn’t exactly on the main path. Wasn’t a place I could find again.”
“You went by portal?” he asked.
She ran her hands up her arms and nodded. “But like our trip here, it was prepaid and I wasn’t given a location. I could just tell it was somewhere in Nidavellir.” The land of the dwarves was hard to mistake for any other place.