The Half Dwarf Prince

by J. M. Fosberg

  Isaac took the bags. He loosened the string on one and looked inside. “No, that’s fine. I only have twelve of these type of work horses here right now anyway. I’ll have to bring the rest in from the farm. I will make sure all twenty-two horses are here in the morning, and they will be ready whenever you are.”

  The fact that this wasn’t all of the horses was curious to Grundel. The man must have realized he was confused because he went on to explain. “We rotate the horses out every week. It’s not good for them to be cramped up like this. Even in the pasture here, that’s not much room, and we can only let so many of them out at a time. We try to keep ten to fifteen horses of each type here in the city. The farm is just outside the wall; it won’t be any trouble getting your horses in here, and I will bring an extra ten so that I will still have some when you leave. You can take your pick. They’re all at least this good in quality, guaranteed.”

  Isaac had obviously misunderstood his confusion. He wasn’t concerned about the quality of horses that he had just bought. He just hadn’t realized the difference between all the horses he saw. There were twice as many horses as he needed in the stables, but he just didn’t know the difference. He wasn’t going to tell that to this man, though. “That sounds good. We will probably come by for a couple of them tomorrow so that we can take our carts to get them loaded, but we will bring them back when we’re done. We are planning to leave in the next three or four days.”

  “That won’t be a problem at all. I will see you tomorrow, then,” the man said, holding out his hand. Grundel reached out and took it.

  As they walked out of the stable and into the street, a man stumbled into Grundel. Grundel caught him and stopped him from falling until he realized the man was holding a knife. He had already thrown him to the ground by the time Grundel noticed the knife in his back. Another man was coming down at them from the roof of the shop next to the stable, and another was running out from between the two buildings straight at Grundel with his sword out.

  Grundel pulled his axe off his back, but there was no need. Each of Rundo’s daggers came out of his hands and slammed into the chest of the man coming down at them before his feet touched the ground. Before the charging man even made it to Grundel there was a flash as light reflected off metal. The blade had come from across the street and slammed into the neck of the swordsman. Grundel looked in the direction the knife had come and saw Jerrie walking across the street. This street wasn’t nearly as busy as most of the others they had been on this morning, and the few people who had been nearby had scattered when they saw the man leaping from the roof.

  “First rule of the city: don’t be a witness,” Jerrie said as he walked over and pulled his knife out of the first body. He searched the body of the dead man, and pulled out a small purse of coins. “Nothing magical,” he said, leaving the man’s weapons. He went to the other man with the knife in his neck. The man was still choking on blood. He pulled his knife out and looked the man in the eyes. When the man nodded he slid his blade into his chest, puncturing his heart. He wiped his blade off on the man’s shirt before returning it to his boot. When he searched this man he found two small purses of gold and a rough drawing of a person who could only be Grundel. He held it up for Grundel to see.

  Rundo dug a large leather pouch out of the shirt of the man who had leapt from the roof. Inside was a drawing of him and Grundel. There were also four small coin purses, each with ten to twelve pieces of gold.

  “Black Dragons,” Jerrie said, pointing to the tattoo on the wrist of the man Rundo had just taken the pouch from. “Apparently, you killing two of their best assassins has made your death more important then whatever information they had hoped to get out of you. What’re you going to do with all that gold?” he asked Rundo.

  Rundo looked back down the street, and Grundel actually laughed out loud. They left the bodies there. An hour later Rundo owned the stable they had passed and all the horses in it. He had fired everyone. He had talked to Isaac, and Isaac had recommended his own son to manage the place. Rundo had agreed, and now they were on their way back to the inn.

  The next three days were spent gathering the supplies and loading the wagons. The dwarves took shifts watching them. They didn’t have any more incidents with the Black Dragons, and on the morning of their fifth day in Ambar, Isaac and his son helped them lead the horses to the wagons and hook them all up. They also brought four of the horses from Rundo’s stables that were determined to be healthy and capable enough. Now they would be able to rotate the horses out and have extras if anything unexpected happened to one of them. One of each of the extra horses was tethered to the back of the four rear wagons. With the help of Isaac and his son they were able to get everything hooked up within an hour.

  They rode out of Ambar that morning with a dwarf riding in the seat at the front of each of the eleven wagons. Grundel drove the one in the front. Jerrie was riding his own horse, a big, black stallion. Rundo, of course, was on the back of Bumbo. They had barely made it through the gate when Messah came down and perched on the wagon next to Grundel. They had a day’s ride to the place they were supposed to meet the dwarves. They would camp tonight, and they should make it there early in the afternoon tomorrow with a day or two to spare.

  Chapter Nine

  Another Path

  Grundel had them up ahead of the sun hooking up the horses. It took the unfamiliar dwarves a little longer to get all of the horses hooked up. After about two hours of struggling with straps and buckles the horses were ready. The sun was already above the horizon. They weren’t really in a hurry, so they kept a slow pace. There was no need to overwork the horses with the lead they had.

  After about an hour on the road they came to a river. They followed the river south until they came to the bridge. The river was about sixty paces wide here. The bridge was about twelve feet above the water, and it was a heavy, sturdy bridge. Jerrie and Rundo rode out ahead. When they were about halfway across the bridge Grundel rode drove his wagon out onto it. He had barely made it onto the bridge when there was a flash of light followed by a loud bang. The light was gone in time for him to watch Jerrie, Rundo, and their horses fall into the water as the bridge broke apart under them.

  A second ball of fire was flying at him, taking his attention away from his friends. He spotted the wizard across the river who was throwing the fire. He grabbed his axe off the bench next to him and threw it as hard as he could. He had barely released his axe when the huge ball of fire came at him, but at the last second it was sucked into his belt buckle in a rope of flame. He didn’t take the time to process it. He saw his axe had almost reached the wizard, who was diving to the side. The dive would have saved him, but Grundel had been anticipating it; he had reached back over his shoulder, touching the head of the axe slung there. That contact was enough to control the other blade, and he led it after the wizard. When he saw the axe find its target he leapt over the side of the bridge after Rundo.

  It wasn’t until he was flailing around in the water just trying to get his head above the surface that he realized he didn’t know how to swim. In his panic he put his hand on his axe and pictured it flying toward the other axe. He hadn’t ever done anything like that before, he realized, as found himself standing alone on the opposite shore, next to the dead wizard. He had always used the axe he was touching to control the other. He had never even thought of the possibility of trying to use the other one to control the one he was touching. His near-death reaction had just created so many new possibilities with his weapons.

  He couldn’t think about that now, though. He saw Jerrie coming out of the water back on the other side of the river. He was about a hundred paces downriver, and still on the back of his stallion. Then he saw Bumbo making his way out a little farther down, but Rundo wasn’t on her back. He threw his axe in that direction. Holding the other axe in his hand, he guided the axe into a tree between Jerrie and Bumbo. Then he held on tight to his axe and for the second time he used it to travel. H
e swung under his axe as he pictured it carrying him over the river to the other magically enchanted weapon. When his feet dragged in the water he made the axe in his hand fly higher, and it did. Then he was on the ground next to the tree. He pulled the axe out of the tree and slid it onto his back. Then he ran downriver toward Bumbo, searching the bank for his friend.

  Rundo saw a flash of light; he heard the explosion underneath him. The explosion had forced the air out of his lungs, and now he was underwater. He had fallen off Bumbo’s back. He could sense the pony. He swam hard for the surface, but smacked his head on a rock. He had gone down. He couldn’t gather his thoughts. The last one he had before darkness took him completely was that he didn’t know if he was passing out because he banged his head or because he had banged his head so hard. simply forgotten to breathe.

  When he opened his eyes he was coughing up water. A huge fish was on the bank pressing on his chest. He blinked a couple times and realized that is wasn’t a fish but a person with a fish head. Even as that realization came, the fish head transformed into a human one. It wasn’t a fish at all. It was a woman. A beautiful woman was staring down at him. She had dark brown hair and brown eyes. As he stared at her he realized she was naked. He was staring at her breasts when he made the realization and he instantly looked away.

  “You can turn around now,” he heard her say.

  When he turned his head there was a little red fox with a big puffy tail next to her. It had apparently brought her clothes. Messah landed on his shoulder then, and everything snapped into focus. She had saved him. She had been a fish when he opened his eyes, or at least part of her had been. She was a druid. He knew some druids were able to shift into animal forms. “You’re a druid!” he shouted.

  The woman smiled. “You are, too,” she shouted back.

  Then it dawned on him how foolish he must have sounded shouting. “Sorry. I’m still trying to figure out what happened. I’m not actually a druid; I haven’t been trained. I am figuring everything out on my own.”

  She looked up the river. She must have heard something. He still had water in his ears so he hadn’t heard whatever it was. “Your friends are coming. If you want help, come into the woods and I will try to help you. Don’t bring them with you.”

  Rundo turned back to the river to see who she was talking about. Far up the bank he saw Grundel running after Bumbo. When he turned back she was gone.

  Grundel saw Rundo standing on the bank and began shouting his name. When he got close he threw the axe and used it to travel again. A couple of seconds later he was on the other side of the river, a dozen paces away from his friend.

  “Rundo, are you okay?” He didn’t even think about what he was doing as he grabbed his friend’s head and started checking how serious the cut was. It wasn’t deep—just a gash on his forehead. It looked worse than it was.

  Rundo pulled away. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

  Grundel looked at him for a minute and then shrugged his shoulders. He threw his axe across the river near where Jerrie and Bumbo were waiting. He reached out his hand to Rundo. “Come on. I can get us across, don’t worry.”

  Rundo stepped back. “Grundel, I have to stay here.”

  Grundel dropped his hand. “What? You said you were okay. What’s wrong?”

  Rundo shook his head. “Nothing is wrong. There is a druid here. She is the one who saved me. She said she would help me figure out how to be a druid. I need to stay for at least a couple of days. I will catch up with you before you make it to Shinestone. It will take you twice as long to get there with all of the others with you. I just need a couple of days.”

  Grundel thought about it. He didn’t want to leave his friend here alone, but Rundo was twice his age and he had been given a chance to figure out how to use his abilities. “What about Bumbo?”

  Rundo looked across the river. “He will go with you. It’s too thick in these trees for him, plus I will be able to sense him. It will make it easier for me to find you.”

  Grundel wrapped Rundo in a hug. “Be safe, Rundo. I’ll see you at Shinestone.”

  Rundo just nodded. It was an uncomfortable situation for both of them. Neither knew what to say, so they didn’t say anything. Grundel looked back one more time before calling on the link between his axes to carry one to the other.

  “What is he doing” Jerrie asked, nodding across the river to Rundo, who was already walking into the tree line.

  Grundel looked back across the river. “He found someone who can answer some questions for him. He will catch up with us later.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for him?” Jerrie asked.

  Grundel looked across the river. “Rundo is safer out here than the rest of us. He is a druid, remember. Bumbo is coming with us. Don’t worry, Rundo will catch up.” Without waiting for a response he took Bumbo’s reins and walked the pony back to the bridge.

  A couple hours later they made it down the road and out of the woods, to the field where they were supposed to meet up with the rest of the dwarves in two days’ time. Grundel took first watch. He was standing just at the edge of the firelight, staring back into the forest, when Jerrie walked up next to him.

  “You worried about him?”

  Grundel looked at Jerrie and then over to Bumbo. “He’s not, so I’m not. When that pony starts acting different, that is when I will worry.”

  “You mean that is when you go charging blindly into the woods?” Jerrie said, only half joking.

  Then they heard it. It was that distinct half roar, half squeal that only an orc could make.

  “Wake up!” Grundel shouted. “Orcs are coming!”

  The other dwarves were on their feet with weapons in hand. A couple grabbed the non-burning ends of logs sticking out of the fire, and spread out. They had expected to run into orcs on the way to Ambar from Evermount, since after the battle orcs had scattered into the countryside. After talking to Jerrie and finding out that the orcs were establishing their own kingdom in the dwarven mountain, they had no doubt that they would run into orcs as they got closer to Shinestone. All they could do was hope that this wasn’t a whole clan. The twelve of them wouldn’t stand a chance against an entire clan.

  When the orcs came rushing out of the woods, the dwarves got in line. They were outnumbered two to one, but it wasn’t a whole clan. Jerrie was standing behind Grundel, who stood at the center of the line. The orcs rushed in.

  Grundel threw one of his axes. It flew over a hundred feet farther than any normal axe could. It smashed into the face of the closest orc. The one behind him was able to get out of the way as the axe flew by, but he hadn’t expected it to come flying back and dig into the back of his skull on the return path. Grundel released the axe again when it made it back to his hand. He killed two more of the orcs before they even got to them. When the axe made it back this time, the orcs were almost to them, so he readied himself for a melee.

  At the last second, the dwarves surprised Jerrie and the orcs by abandoning their defensive line. They leapt forward to their knees and hacked at the legs of the charging orcs. That put nine or ten of them on the ground—not dead, but most of them were too wounded to get back to their feet. Then the dwarves broke off into individual fights with orcs. Jerrie burst into action. The dwarves already had the upper hand. With the four Grundel had killed, and then with half of the remaining orcs on the ground and out of the fight, it was now twelve against seven. Actually eight. One of the orcs had made it to his feet and was limping up behind one of the dwarves who was fighting one-on-one with an orc. Jerrie buried his knife in the back of his skull. He had another knife in his hand and was running toward the end of the line where another dwarf was fighting an orc. His arm shot out as he passed, his blade cutting into the orc’s side. The orc dropped his arm on that side and the dwarf’s hammer smashed him in the face.

  Jerrie hadn’t stopped, though. He ran past two dwarves who were striking the killing blows on an orc who couldn’t keep up a defense against the attacks of
both dwarves. The next dwarf was one-on-one against the orc he was fighting but already had the orc backpedaling. Jerrie’s knife ran across the back of the orc’s right knee. Jerrie was already moving on as the orc fell to the ground behind him. He passed Grundel, who had already killed the orc he had paired up with, and apparently helped the dwarf next to him with his. They were all charging down the line now, but the dwarves at that end were already finishing off the last of the orcs. From start to finish it couldn’t have taken more than a minute or two. They returned to the wounded orcs closer to the camp and finished them off. One of them had a longsword and was swinging it wildly at anyone who got close. Jerrie threw one of his daggers, and it buried to the hilt in the orc’s chest. In a few seconds, the orc was still. They dragged all of the bodies over to the edge of the tree line. Whatever the animals didn’t get they would burn the next day. They didn’t want to start a huge fire in the middle of the night and attract more attention.

  Jerrie realized that the dwarves who had more or less ignored him since he had met Grundel were now all including him. They gave him friendly, celebratory punches like they did each other. They even teased the dwarves he had helped in the fight about only being able to take down their orcs because of the “long-leg with the short blades.” They obviously hadn’t appreciated his lack of what they considered a “real” weapon until they had seen how capable he was with his knives.

  Chapter Ten

  The Path of a Druid

  Rundo looked across the river and settled Bumbo, telepathically urging him to stay with Grundel. He could not verbalize anything for Bumbo, but he felt Bumbo understood through their link. With Bumbo at ease, Rundo turned back toward the woods and began walking into the trees.

  He could sense the animals around him. His connection with the world was strong enough that even if he closed his eyes he could feel where living things were around him. He knew that he was nearing her and her fox before he actually saw them. He could only describe the way he sensed life and the different way he sensed others as auras. The aura that each species put off was unique, and the more familiar with an aura he was, the easier it was for him to recognize it. Horses, for instance, he could sense from very far away. Dwarves and humans he could also identify readily without even thinking about it. The woman’s aura ahead of him he sensed easily, especially out here, where she was the only druid. The fox’s aura he wasn’t very familiar with, but he sensed the connection between the two and so he surmised that was the aura of the animal close to her. He walked another thirty paces and then stopped. She was standing next to a tree about ten paces away. He couldn’t actually see her, the tree was too big, but he sensed her there.